It takes some time for me to reassure the nurse that I’m fine. I let her perform her checks and drink the cup of tea that has been brought round.
‘Have you had panic attacks before?’ asks the nurse.
‘I wasn’t having a panic attack,’ I reply. ‘I just didn’t want to speak to Tris Aldridge any more.’
The nurse doesn’t appear to be listening. ‘We can put you in touch with trained counsellors who can help you develop strategies to deal with panic attacks. I could ask the doctor to refer you to one of the mental health team. Perhaps some CBT—’
‘Cognitive behavioural therapy,’ I cut in, rather ungraciously. ‘Yes. I know. Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.’
‘It was only a suggestion. It’s up to you.’
I smile at the nurse, acknowledging to myself that she’s only doing her job. ‘Actually, I’d like to go up and see my son now. Do I need to keep this drip in?’
‘I can take that out for you, but I don’t want you wandering about the hospital on your own. You need to be in the wheelchair if you go anywhere. Perhaps when your boyfriend comes, he could take you to see your son.’
‘But I need to see him as soon as possible. I want to know how he is.’
‘I’ll phone through for an update. You wait there.’
Before I can argue any further, the nurse has left the room. I thump the arm of the chair in frustration. I feel perfectly able to take myself up to ICU. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll be allowed to go home today. I hate all this fussing.
A few minutes later, the nurse returns. Alfie has had his CT scan and is on the ward. ‘He’s regained consciousness, in so much as he’s opened his eyes for a few short periods of time.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ I say. ‘Has he said anything? Is he OK?’
‘Nothing yet, but it’s early days. It sounds promising though. As soon as someone is here, or one of us is free, you can go and see him.’
‘What about my friend, Andrea? How is she today?’
‘If I have any news, I’ll let you know.’
I have to temper my frustration again. All I want is to know that the people I love and care about are OK. After the nurse has gone, my thoughts turn to Zoe. I wonder why I haven’t seen her yet. I’m surprised she hasn’t been to visit me or even called to see how I am.
The next two hours drag by, only broken up by the lunchtime interlude. The nurse doesn’t reappear and I assume the staff have been too busy to take me up to see Alfie.
When Seb finally arrives, I’m so relieved to see him that I sob inconsolably in his arms for a good five minutes. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head, his strong arms wrapped around my body, making me feel safe. The pent-up emotions run riot until they eventually exhaust themselves.
‘Oh, Seb, I’m so glad you’re here,’ I finally manage to say, my good arm firmly around his neck, the nurse having removed the drip earlier.
‘I came as quickly as I could,’ he says, hugging me tighter. He then pulls away and studies my face. His eyes take in the dressing on my head, the grazing to my face and bruising to my arms. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Much better now you’re here.’ It’s my turn to cast the cautionary eye. ‘You look tired, you must be shattered from all that driving.’
‘I’m OK,’ he says, brushing away my concern. ‘Any news on Alfie?’
‘Apparently he’s regained consciousness but he’s not said anything. I haven’t been able to see him yet.’
‘I’ll take you.’ He looks over at the wheelchair. ‘Is that your mode of transport?’
Seb wheels me along the corridors and up to ICU without even waiting to have a coffee or a rest. I’m touched by his selflessness.
‘It’s through there,’ I say, pointing to the double doors ahead. ‘We have to press the buzzer to be let in.’
Before we reach the doors, they open and I’m taken by surprise when the blonde-haired figure of Zoe walks out. I notice almost straight away, she’s not limping. She stops in her tracks, her shocked look reflecting my own.
‘Zoe? What … I didn’t know you were here!’
‘Hello, Carys,’ she says and immediately I detect a wary tone to her voice. Her gaze shifts to the ground, her whole body language broadcasting the awkwardness she is experiencing. She looks up and gives Seb a nod. ‘Seb.’
Seb returns the greeting.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, unable to understand why she’s coming out of ICU.
‘I … erm … popped in to see Alfie.’ Her eyes dart between me and Seb.
‘I don’t understand, how did you manage to persuade them to let you in? It’s supposed to be family only.’
‘Sorry, I kind of said I was related.’
I want to ask Zoe about Hammerton, but I quell the questions which are bubbling up. I need to check a few things first. I have to be sure of my facts. If I put a foot wrong here, the consequences could be disastrous. Instead, I force myself to focus on what is happening now. ‘Why did you want to see him? Why haven’t you been to see me?’ I feel Seb’s hand rest on my shoulder and give a gentle squeeze which I interpret as a pacifying gesture, telling me to cool it.
‘I was worried about him. I heard what had happened. I don’t know, I felt compelled to see him,’ she offers as an explanation. ‘I didn’t think it would be a good idea to see you. Not with what’s happened. I’ve had to give a statement.’
‘Yes, we all have, but I don’t follow.’ As the words leave my lips, realisation dawns on me. ‘Your statement, does it implicate me? Do you think I’m responsible for what happened to Joanne?’
‘I really shouldn’t talk to you about it,’ says Zoe. She looks to Seb for support.
‘It depends what you’ve said,’ he replies.
‘What have you said, Zoe?’
‘Please, Carys,’ says Zoe, her rigid body language and inability to make eye-contact growing more pronounced by the minute.
‘You think I killed Joanne! For God’s sake, why would you think that, let alone say it in a police statement? I thought you were my friend.’
‘I am. I am your friend, but I also had to tell the truth,’ says Zoe. ‘I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Alfie too. I hope he gets better soon.’
‘Your ankle’s healed, then,’ I comment.
‘It was only a sprain.’ She steps to the side and almost hugs the wall to keep as far away from me as possible. ‘I have to go. Bye, Carys. Seb.’
I twist round in my seat. Despite my calls for Zoe to come back, she doesn’t break stride once as she disappears around the corner and out of sight. I look up at Seb. ‘I didn’t do it. Why is she saying that?’ I can feel myself on the verge of tears but anger is welling up quicker. ‘For fuck’s sake, Seb, I can’t believe this is happening.’
Seb moves the wheelchair to the side of the corridor and crouches in front of me, taking hold of my hand. ‘Carys, it’s OK. Keep calm. Listen to me. It doesn’t matter what Zoe says, it’s only her opinion. Without any evidence, you can’t be charged. I totally believe you. I don’t doubt you for one minute.’
‘What if they say there’s reasonable doubt?’
‘The police haven’t received the coroner’s report yet. If it shows that she died from simply falling, by accident, then there won’t even be a case to answer.’
‘But how will they be able to prove that?’
‘Different types of injuries will have different character-istics. Forensics will look at the scene – you know, blood patterns, things she could have hit her head on. The police can’t charge you simply because you happened to be the last person to see her.’
‘But you said I was under suspicion. Everyone thinks I have a motive.’
‘Did you?’
I bite down on my lip. I haven’t told Seb about Ruby and Darren and what happened between our two families. ‘Look, I should have told you before, but Joanne’s daughter had a crush on Darren once upon a time. He was her tutor at the college. Joanne and Tris confronted us about it and it was all sorted out – a misunderstanding on the Aldridges’ part. The whole thing was long-forgotten. Or so I thought.’ As I finish, I’m aware I have taken a conscious decision not to tell Seb the whole truth. How can I? It’s best for both of us if he doesn’t know.
‘Right,’ says Seb, drawing the word out and raising his eyebrows a fraction.
‘Turns out, Joanne wasn’t ready to let the matter go. She was planning to confront me about it this weekend. Honestly, Seb, it’s crazy. She concocted this whole stupid game to get back at each of us. Me for standing by Darren over the whole Ruby thing, Andrea for conning her out of buying the gym and Zoe, get this, for having an affair with Tris.’
Seb’s eyebrows shoot a little higher this time. ‘Wow. Is that true?’
‘There’s a degree of truth to all three allegations.’
‘So, you all have a potential motive.’
‘Yes. So why am I being singled out as the prime suspect?’
‘I take it you’ve explained all this to the police?’
I wince. ‘No. I didn’t want it all dragged up.’
‘What! For Christ’s sake, Carys, you should have told Chilton. It’s bound to come out, and your failure to disclose it makes you look like you’re trying to hide something.’
‘I know. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t want the whole Darren and Ruby thing dragged up. It doesn’t look good on my part.’
‘You must tell Chilton. It gives the others a motive, so the focus won’t be entirely on you.’
‘OK. I’ll call him. He left his card in case I thought of anything else.’
‘I’m not suggesting you lie, but maybe the knock to your head made you forgetful?’
Seb gives me a meaningful look and I silently translate the subtext. ‘Yeah, that’s what it was. A little bit of amnesia.’
Seb pats my leg. ‘I’ll make some enquiries and see if I can find anything out, off the record. I’m sure the police are being very thorough and considering all the possible motives,’ says Seb. ‘What about Tris? The spouse is always a prime suspect. If he was having an affair with Zoe, then that gives him a motive too.’
‘I don’t know. He came to visit me this morning. He was pleading his innocence.’
‘For fuck’s sake. He needs to stay away,’ says Seb, rising from his squatting position. ‘I can have a word with him if you like.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve made it clear to him that he’s not welcome.’ I let out a long breath of air. ‘Let’s go and see Alfie.’
A few minutes later we have been buzzed through into ICU. On the wall beside the nurses’ station is a noticeboard. Staff pictures of the nurses and their names are displayed and I seek out Alfie’s nurse, Dawn. She looks to be in her late thirties and has a motherly air to her, something which makes me wonder: have I been the best mother to Alfie I could have been? Or am I lacking some unidentifiable and elusive maternal instinct? Is that why Alfie is lying here in intensive care?
We use the alcohol gel to cleanse our hands before entering Alfie’s room. Dawn is in there with him.
‘Oh, look, Alfie, you have a visitor,’ she says brightly as she smooths down his sheet. ‘He’s had a wash and I’m hoping I’ve done his hair OK.’ She looks at Alfie. ‘Don’t hate me.’
Seb wheels me over to the side of the bed and helps me stand so I can make eye contact with my son. I’m aware of both Seb and Dawn melting away and leaving me alone with Alfie.
I hold his hand with my good one. ‘Hello, Alfie. How are you?’ The pause for a response is automatic and I remind myself what the doctor told me about Alfie’s apparent lack of speech. I study his eyes. They look right at me, boring deep behind my pupils. His stare has the intensity to cause me to make a tiny and involuntary movement of my head away. He blinks but he carries on looking at me.
I break the gaze first and allow my eyes to travel to the bandage around his head. His injury appears superficial, giving no indication of the damage done on the inside. Nausea washes over me and I check the room to locate the en-suite bathroom in case I need to get there in a hurry.
Dawn re-enters the room carrying a stool-like chair with ratchet legs. ‘I thought you might be more comfortable on this perching stool,’ she says, beginning to adjust the legs. ‘I don’t want you fainting on me.’
‘How he is doing?’ I ask.
‘You’re doing OK, aren’t you, Alfie?’ says Dawn, guiding me to the stool. ‘We’re pretty sure you can hear us. You’re just not ready to speak yet, are you, Alfie?’ All the time she’s making eye contact, using his name and smiling at him. Then she turns to me. ‘Talk to him as you normally would.’ She checks the screen on the cardiac monitor and looks at the printout. ‘See here,’ she points at the chart of the screen. ‘This was five minutes ago, when you came in. His heart rate increased. That would indicate that he knows you’re here. It’s a good sign, it means he’s responding to his surroundings.’
Dawn leaves us alone again and my eyes are drawn to Alfie’s. ‘I wish I knew what you’re trying to tell me,’ I say, and then wonder if that’s true. I look at the cardiac monitor and the line graph Dawn pointed out with the heart rate shown in red numerals at the end of the line. The numbers are increasing, dropping now and again but the general trend is on the up. ‘Please try to rest,’ I say, trying frantically to think of something to say that isn’t going to alarm him further. ‘Nan is flying home from her holiday. She’ll come and see you as soon as she can.’
Alfie moves his eyes away from mine and in what seems a purposeful act, he closes them. If he could verbalise the action, he’d be telling me to leave, that I’ve been dismissed. He no longer wants to talk to me. This is the equivalent of walking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
I sit with him for another ten or fifteen minutes, but he’s lapsed into sleep. I can’t help feeling hurt and rejected. Even in his hour of need, when he’s at his most vulnerable, he still doesn’t want me. He’s never going to forgive me for what I’ve done.
Seb pokes his head around the door. ‘You OK?’ he asks in a whisper.
‘Can we leave?’ I shuffle into the wheelchair and Seb wheels me from the room.
‘Give him time,’ says Seb as we leave ICU.
‘I’ve been giving him time for the past two years,’ I say. ‘I thought that was bad enough, but I think I’ve just extended it further.’
‘Come on, let’s go to the café and get a cup of tea.’
‘No. Wait. I want to go and see Andrea,’ I say, looking up at Seb.
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
‘I don’t know, but I need to see her. If Zoe’s been to see Alfie, she’s bound to have gone and seen Andrea. I want to know what Andrea thinks of it all.’
‘OK, if you’re sure.’
‘Positive. Andrea’s my best friend. I want to see how she is anyway.’
We make our way to the general ward Andrea is on and locate her bed in the far corner. She’s in a sitting position on the bed with a blue blanket draped over her bottom half, covering her plastered right leg. Colin, her husband, is sitting beside her.
‘Carys! I wasn’t expecting you,’ she says. ‘Hello, Seb.’
‘I wanted to see how you are. Hi, Colin,’ I say as Seb wheels me closer to the side of the bed. I stand up and lean over to hug her. It’s an awkward manoeuvre, one which lacks any grace. ‘I’m so glad you’re OK. I wanted to come back for you, but I couldn’t. I had to get help.’ I blurt out the unintended words.
‘It’s OK. They found me quickly,’ she says.
This time there’s no perching stool, so I sit down in the wheelchair.
‘I need to make a call,’ says Seb, taking his mobile from his pocket. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Andrea and I exchange a look. ‘Subtly done,’ she says. ‘Anyway, how are you?’
‘Not so bad.’
‘I heard about Alfie – Zoe told me. I’m so sorry, Carys. I hope to God he’ll be OK.’
‘Thanks.’ I look down at my bandaged hand and think of Alfie’s bandaged head. Not for the first time, I wonder how it all came to this.
‘Have the police spoken to you?’ she asks.
‘Yes. This morning. A DCI Chilton.’
‘Same one who spoke to me,’ says Andrea. ‘He asked me about the weekend. When was the last time I saw Joanne? Had I seen you and her talking outside?’
‘What did you say?’
‘The truth. I last saw Joanne when we got back from kayaking down the sodding river. That as far as I knew, she was in her room until Zoe found her outside.’ Andrea pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘Bloody hell, Carys. What the hell happened this weekend? Is it me, or is this some sort of bizarre alternative reality? I still can’t believe she’s dead. I’m half expecting Joanne to walk through the door any minute now and tell us it was one of her fucking jokes.’
‘If only,’ I say. ‘What I don’t understand is what Alfie was doing up there.’
Colin coughs and fidgets on his seat. ‘Carys, about that. I’m sorry. The boys wanted to go to some party on Saturday night, over the other side of town. Said they’d get the bus there, meet their mates, stay the night and come home again Sunday.’
‘A party? I didn’t know anything about this,’ I say, and then wonder why I’m so surprised. It’s not like Alfie volunteers any information about what he’s doing. ‘Where was the party?’
‘I don’t know exactly.’ Colin glances at Andrea. I’m not sure if this is for moral support or some sort of apology. ‘They headed off into town Saturday morning. I went down the pub to watch some football. When I got home, about half-five, they’d already gone. Bradley texted to say they’d see me Sunday.’
‘Weren’t you concerned that you didn’t know where they were going?’ I ask.
Another pause. ‘Not exactly. They’re young men. I thought it would be good to give them some freedom.’ There’s a defensive tone in Colin’s voice. ‘I know what Andrea’s like. Fussing over Bradley the whole time, wanting to know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with, all that carry-on. Young lads need to cut the apron strings, so I let them set their own agenda for a change. My mum had no idea where I was when I was their age.’
‘It’s at this point I feel I must apologise for my fuckwit of a husband,’ says Andrea. She’s clearly had this conversation with Colin before. He dips his head in remorse. ‘Rest assured, Carys, I’ve explained in no uncertain terms to him why we have mobile phones and check up on our kids when they’re out and about.’
I give a roll of my eyes to Andrea as a gesture of consolation. ‘So, fast-forward to Sunday and Alfie is a no-show. What did you do?’ I ask Colin.
‘Nothing. He sent a text message to say he would be back Monday, that he was staying at another mate’s house.’
‘And you didn’t check up on him? Ask the parents if it was all OK with them?’ I ask.
Colin grimaces. ‘I trusted him. Sorry.’
‘Have you told the police this?’ I ask.
‘I take it he never said anything to you either?’
I shake my head. ‘Alfie is like an Enigma machine, and sadly I don’t have the code.’
An awkward silence fills the space around us, until Andrea speaks first, re-routing the conversation.
‘The detective asked me about what happened on the track, when I fell.’ I detect an air of caution in her voice.
‘And?’ I prompt, as my stomach muscles flex to take a blow.
‘He wanted to make sure that my fall was an accident.’ She says the words with care.
I sit up straighter in my chair. ‘It was. You know that, don’t you?’
She hesitates for a fraction. ‘That’s what I told him.’
‘But it was. I tried to stop you from falling but I couldn’t catch you.’ I watch Andrea and Colin look at each other. ‘Andrea, I’m telling you it was an accident.’
‘Hey, don’t start raising your voice,’ says Colin, suddenly becoming all alpha male in what I suspect is an attempt to restore some respect in his wife’s eyes. He rises from his seat. ‘Andrea needs her rest.’
‘Andrea?’ I look at my friend.
‘I’m tired, Carys. You look tired too. You’ve got a lot of shit to deal with right now. Get some rest.’
She closes her eyes and for the second time that afternoon, I’m dismissed with one simple action.