The following morning, I am discharged from hospital, much to my relief, although it has been on the condition that I am not left alone. Seb has been great and has been able to arrange an extra day off work so he can drive me home and stay until Mum arrives.
‘Have you heard when they’re moving Alfie?’ asks Seb, as he helps me change into some clothes he bought from the local supermarket. I’m touched that he’s got the right size and although we are only talking about a pair of loose trousers and a T-shirt, these are absolutely my style. He knows me well and this small act of kindness helps soothe my battered heart.
‘They’re waiting for confirmation there’s a bed in the neurological ward in Southampton,’ I reply, slipping my feet into a pair of soft canvas shoes, which are again the perfect size and style. ‘They’re better equipped there and it’s less than an hour’s drive from my place.’
‘Did you want to see him before you go?’
‘It’s OK, I’ve already been. I went early.’
‘How was he?’
‘Awake for a while. Still hasn’t spoken.’ I fiddle unnecessarily with my shoe, as I can’t bring myself to look at Seb.
‘He’ll be better at Southampton, they’re specialists, right?’ He sits beside me on the bed and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. I deny myself the self-indulgent luxury of sinking into his arms. I must stay strong. I give a smile which is intended to be optimistic and thankful, but only manages resigned.
‘I hope so,’ I reply eventually.
As I stand to leave and Seb picks up my bag, there’s a knock at the door and I’m taken aback to see DCI Chilton enter the room.
‘Ah, great, you’re still here,’ he says, nodding an acknowledgement to Seb. ‘I was hoping to catch you before you left.’
‘Everything OK?’ asks Seb, placing the bag down on the floor.
‘Aye, there’s been a couple of developments and I needed to check a few things.’ Chilton looks at me. ‘That OK with you, Carys?’
‘Of course.’ I sit down on the bed, and Seb sits next to me in what I take to be an act of solidarity. Chilton takes the lower ground on the bedside chair.
‘Good to see you up and about,’ he says. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not too bad,’ I reply, wishing he would dispense with the niceties and get to the point.
‘The nurses have brought me up to date with Alfie. I was hoping to be able to interview him but as I understand it, that may be some way off yet.’
‘Interview him? Why do you need to do that?’ Alarm bashes at my heart.
‘I have to speak to everyone involved at some point,’ says Chilton. ‘Just so I have all bases covered.’ He throws Seb a look and continues. ‘I want to ask about the kayaks and the river.’
‘Is this necessary?’ asks Seb. ‘It’s distressing enough as it is.’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ says Chilton. ‘You know how these things work.’
I can sense Seb is about to protest further, but I save him the trouble. ‘It’s OK. Please, Inspector, carry on.’
Chilton clears his throat before speaking. ‘When you and Alfie went through those rapids, whose idea was it? What made you choose that route?’
‘Erm, I’m not sure,’ I say, trying to bide time to second-guess what Chilton’s angle is. ‘I think we got caught up in the current. It looked easier than it was. Everything happened so quickly, there wasn’t time to think or to discuss it.’
‘We’ve recovered the kayaks. They were further downriver. Amazingly, they survived the rapids,’ says Chilton. He takes out his pocketbook and flicks through a couple of pages. ‘Remind me again, which kayak you and Alfie were in.’
‘The red one.’
‘And you were in the front?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can you remember the colour of the paddles you used?’
‘Erm … The red ones. I think.’
‘Can you be sure about that?’
‘As far as I can remember.’
‘And prior to the rapids, was everything OK? Did you have any accidents or mishaps along the way?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
I glance at Seb for reassurance. Somehow, I feel I’m being led into a trap, one where I don’t have the expertise to spot the hidden tripwire.
‘Why’s that?’ intervenes Seb.
‘We found some blood in the boat.’ Chilton keeps his gaze fixed on me. ‘Do you know how it got there, Carys?’
‘Blood?’ I repeat. I can feel the beginnings of a twitch in the corner of my eye. I think back to the kayak. ‘Oh, yes, sorry. I did have an accident. I forgot. That must have been how I hurt my head. I caught it with the paddle when I was swapping from one side to the other.’
‘Must have been quite a blow.’
‘Yes. It did hurt.’
Seb squeezes my hand. ‘I expect the panic and adrenalin that was rushing through you blocked out the pain,’ he says. ‘Amazing how the pain receptors can do that when your life is in danger.’
Chilton purses his lips and nods, although I suspect it’s in response to some thought running through his mind rather than agreement with Seb. ‘The thing is, the blood was on the yellow paddle. Not the red one you said you were using.’
I stumble over the question as I attempt to process what Chilton is saying and the possible implications, wondering if I’ve caught the tripwire already. ‘Sorry, it’s difficult to talk about. To remember everything clearly. I must have been using the yellow paddle. I can’t remember now. I feel very confused.’
‘Could we leave the questioning there?’ asks Seb. ‘It’s very upsetting for Carys.’
‘I do apologise but I have to ask all these questions to get a clear picture of what happened. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.’
‘I think Carys has had enough for one day, though,’ says Seb. I’ve never seen him this adamant. ‘She’s still in shock.’
‘One more question,’ concedes Chilton, getting to his feet. ‘Did you know that Alfie had been seeing Tris Aldridge for counselling?’
I hear myself gasp as my head jolts up to meet Chilton’s gaze. ‘What? Tris was counselling Alfie?’
‘Yes. I take it you didn’t know?’
‘No. Not at all. Neither of them told me.’ I am stunned by this revelation and yet, simultaneously, not surprised by Alfie’s deception. ‘How long has Tris been Alfie’s counsellor? Surely that’s a conflict of interest?’
‘According to the medical records, Tris Aldridge took over several months ago. I spoke to the secretary there and apparently Tris told her specifically not to advise you, in accordance with Alfie’s instructions.’
‘I had no idea,’ I say. ‘No idea at all.’
‘Alfie’s previous counsellor, Doctor Graeme Huntingdon, felt increasingly uncomfortable about this and said he wrote to you saying as much. Did you receive a letter from him? He had his concerns and felt you should know.’
‘What concerns? Did he say?’ asks Seb.
‘Only that he felt there was a conflict of interest and that Tris Aldridge and Alfie seemed too close. He’d had an argument with Aldridge about it and as a result was spurred into writing to you. Says, he wishes he’d written sooner,’ explains Chilton. ‘Did you receive a letter?’
I shake my head. I’m certain I would have remembered a letter like that. ‘I don’t think so. Oh, wait! I did get a letter, the day before I left.’
‘Was it from Doctor Huntingdon?’ presses Chilton.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t open it. I put it to one side and got distracted with the invitation from Joanne and all the details about the weekend.’ I put my hand to my mouth to quell the tremble of my lip.
Chilton pulls out a folded sheet of A4 paper from his inside pocket. ‘I have a copy of it here. Huntingdon’s secretary emailed it over.’
I take the paper from him and unfold it.
Dear Mrs Montgomery
As you know, your son, Alfie, has been under my care for some time now, regularly meeting for counselling sessions. However, three months ago Alfie took the decision that he did not wish to meet with me any longer and asked that he could see Dr Tristan Aldridge instead.
As I understand it, Dr Aldridge is a close family friend and while this is not wholly unethical, I feel it is my duty to raise this matter with you. It is, of course, Alfie’s prerogative to see whoever he wishes, but I feel obliged to make you aware of this recent change.
Yours sincerely
Dr Graeme Huntingdon, BSc(Hons) PhD
Seb takes the letter from my hand and reads it. ‘Is this significant to the investigation?’ he asks. ‘You think there’s some connection?’
‘It’s a line of enquiry we’re pursuing,’ replies Chilton.