Why can’t one of you just offer me a lift, she thinks. She stands scanning the roads for her Uber, when she realises she doesn’t even know what she’s looking for. She puts the brake on Thea’s pram, checking it’s on with her foot, three or four times. Something about the conversation she’s just overheard has made her even more nervous.
‘Casper. Away from the road.’
‘I’m not near the road,’ he says, but she yanks him back so he’s standing right close to the hedge. He looks shocked.
She pulls out her phone and brings up the Uber app. Tom’s words play back in her mind. Anything at all I can do, just let me know. And that’s when she knows. That she’ll do anything to make it up to Liza. To Jack. Liza won’t know why, but that’s fine. Somehow, even if it means putting her own life on the line, she’s going to sort out this awful, sorry mess. Maybe she should do some googling – falls from a great height, or paralysis – but then she knows her fear will take over.
She puts her phone firmly in her pocket, and then she sees Priti, leaping into her car. She plays back the conversation she’s just overheard; the self-righteous tremble of Priti’s voice. Investigation. Someone could have been killed. And that’s when she jolts. Investigation? Surely not. It was an accident. That’s all. Surely they wouldn’t go that far? And anyway, she couldn’t come clean now. She thinks of Liza’s face. The relief when Sarah had told her that her son was OK. I saw him. He’s fine. This is the way I paid you back for your friendship and love, Liza.
Her stomach tilts. She watches Priti’s car swing out of the space and into the road, the flash of her diamond ring winking in the weak sunlight. It’s far too late. She’s sure the investigation won’t happen. And if it does? Well, she has a story. She is going to stick to it and that, she tells herself with a lurch, is that.
I’m taken into a waiting room, whilst Jack is rushed into the operating theatre. Gav arrives soon after, motorbike helmet clamped under his arm. I stand up, and we hug. Something we haven’t done for months now. It doesn’t last long. I extricate myself from him, terrified about what’s coming next.
‘What happened?’ he demands as he crosses his arms and takes a step forward, encroaching into my space.
‘He fell.’ I take a step back from him.
‘How?’
I’d worked out the explanation already, yet now that Gav is here I’m finding it hard to speak.
‘He was climbing.’
‘Climbing what? A tree?’
‘No.’ I lower my head. ‘He was outside The Vale Club. In the playground.’ My vision tunnels.
‘And?’
‘Look, please,’ I tell him. ‘I was with Thea. She was screaming.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking you.’ I look into his eyes. Ever since we’d separated and he’d moved into a different area of the house, he’s been distant, unreadable.
‘He was outside. In the sandpit.’
‘And you were doing what, exactly?’ His voice takes on a menacing tone. ‘Can you please explain? That’s my son in there.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Again.’ Cold rises up in my blood and I take another step back. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
‘I was … I told you. I was with Thea. He was fine.’ I think back to just before it had happened. How Thea had just fallen asleep. How finally, that day, I thought I’d have three minutes to myself. Until Sarah had turned up with Ella Bradby.
‘He was fine. Sarah checked on him seconds before. He obviously …’ I trail off, unable to think of his small body impacting the ground. I swallow. ‘The doctors are, well, they’ve been good.’
‘What have they said?’
‘Nothing much. Just rushed him into theatre. They think he might have damaged his neck.’
‘Damaged? What the fuck do you mean, damaged? Broken?’
‘Gav. Please.’ I cover my mouth with my hand. ‘Please. Keep your voice down.’ I’m used to Gav’s emotions going from zero to a hundred miles per hour within the space of a few seconds.
‘You weren’t watching him, were you? Busy in that café with Sarah? Please, just tell me you were doing your job as a mother.’
‘I was,’ I try, but the words sound hollow. ‘I was. He was fine.’
‘And you trusted Sarah? What did she say? That he was OK?’
‘She said,’ I look up, trying to recall what she had said. ‘She said that she had waved and that he was fine.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have left it up to Sarah. She’s so dopey sometimes she wouldn’t notice if her arse was on fire.’
‘That’s not fair. And nor is it relevant.’
‘What about the club then? How could they have something so dangerous? In the kids’ playground. I’m going to fucking have them. I’m going to …’
‘Listen.’ Now he’s turned his attention to The Vale Club, at least it’s off me and Sarah. ‘We have to focus on Jack.’
‘Well, it’s all relevant. He was under your watch, after all.’ He stares me down. I know what he’s thinking.
‘Look.’ My voice comes out in barely a whisper. ‘He was in the sandpit. I had seen him minutes before. Sarah checked on him. There’s nothing else that we should have done. I know that … I know you’re thinking of …’ I can’t bring myself to talk any further, but I don’t have to because he takes a big breath. The room feels dry.
‘If anything happens,’ he points a finger at me but then tempers himself, rubbing his face with both hands.
If anything happens, then what, I want to say but I sit down, defeated.
‘And I’m going to make sure they damn well do an investigation into all this. The club. Someone’s going to have some answers. I want answers. I’m going to sue.’
This is the thing about Gav – he always needs answers. Even when there aren’t any. I’m torn between pushing the spotlight off me – and the fact that I hadn’t been outside with Jack – and getting Gav onto the fact that it might have been The Vale Club who was at fault. Eventually, however, he runs out of steam and we sit in silence, Gav fidgeting in his seat. He picks up his motorbike helmet, clicks and unclicks the clasp over and over. I give him a warning look but he carries on.
I’m scared. So scared. I’ve been through every single outcome of the fall. From the best to the worst options. Jack is alive, but what about his quality of life? What if he never walks again? One of my greatest fears come true. And then all these other fears start careering through my mind. If he is paralysed will we be able to afford it? How will I cope? I don’t want to be thinking of money at a time like this, but we’d have to make arrangements. Change the house. Maybe Gav’s right? Maybe we should sue? Maybe that’s the only way we’d get enough to pay for his care. I try and be sensible and give myself the advice I’d give Sarah. Wait and see what the doctors say. Stop making things up before they’ve happened. But I feel sick at the thought of my son going through all of this.
‘Please can you stop making that noise with your helmet,’ I finally snap. ‘I’m finding it distracting.’ He stands up. ‘I mean, not you,’ I add quickly, in case it makes him flare up again. I’ve just got more important things on my mind right now than stepping on eggshells around Gav. ‘Just the noise.’
‘I’m going,’ he says. I feel the familiar stone drop in my