Even Stranger Page 13

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I went back to the Royal Free, first thing in the morning, counting on the fact that things were so dire with Devlin, normal visiting hour restrictions wouldn’t apply. The same sister I’d seen yesterday was there and she nodded me through. When asked if there was any change, she shook her head briskly and I saw how certain she was, that there wouldn’t be.

  “‘Mum,” she told me, nodding at the curtained bay, “Is there, been there all night. Dad and the kids have popped home to wash and change. Said they wouldn’t be long.” When I went in, Susan was awkwardly sleeping, sprawled half in her chair, half on the side of the bed. The machines and screens were untiringly doing their stuff, but other than the slight rise and fall of his chest, the boy in the bed looked lifeless.

  I quietly pulled up a chair, opposite his sleeping mother, I didn’t want to disturb her. In the cold light of day, my thought of the night before didn’t seem to make anywhere near as much sense as it had, newly minted. What if I did more harm than good? I took Devlin’s hand. It felt even more inanimate than yesterday, sad and dry, as if life had already leaked away. I moved into the echoing, empty stillness of his head and concentrated. And there, so faint, so far away, I almost didn’t hear it, a tiny, fading whisper of Devlin. I knew what I was going to try was risky, but it didn’t feel as if he had a great deal left to lose.

  I could feel Devlin’s regular heartbeat reverberating through me, or maybe it was just mine, syncing with his. I hauled into the forefront of my mind, the memory I’d taken from him when we first met. Back garden; football bouncing on hot, sun-singed grass; lip-puckering tang of cheek-stored Rowntree’s fruit gum; insect-buzz; hum of traffic from the road outside. Then… suddenly close, shockingly deep-throated and heart-stoppingly alarming, next door’s Boxer, barking long and loud, unsuspected inches away, on the other side of the fence.

  Powerful, fear-fuelled adrenaline shocked and shot through us, our hearts pounded painfully, panic swept upwards, icy cold from the base of our skulls, blood rushing to where it was needed, so we could save ourselves. And then electronic alarms were going off, all around us. Shrill, differently toned, designed for urgency and immediate response. Susan woke terrified, as staff surged in. I couldn’t let go though. Not now.

  Somewhere, deep, deep inside his head, Devlin had shrieked in fright and fear. Way down and far away, but there. They were trying to haul me away from him, ungentle hands on my shoulders, but it was too important to let go, too soon. I had both my hands tight round his upper arms now, leaning right over and into him and I re-ran the memory of the shock, pounding it into his head, frightening him all over again, and then I wrapped my own panic round his, and pulled.

  Alarms were klaxoning, discordant, demanding and Devlin was suddenly arching on the bed, thrashing wildly. They thought he was convulsing, he wasn’t, he was trying to run away. They were going to sedate him, but that was the last thing they should do. We were choking, both of us, because we wanted to shriek out shock, but had no voice to do it, there was a tube down our throat and our mouth was trapped with tape. And then, swift instruction and action, someone gently withdrawing the tube, all the way up from our throat, we both retched deeply. And then I could let go.

  I was yanked to my feet and hustled unceremoniously away. I found myself outside the curtained area, by the nurses’ station, with my arms tight round Susan McCrae. We were both shaking a lot.

  “What’s happening? Oh dear God, what’s happening? I thought… but he’s not, he’s not is he?” Her anguished fingers were digging into me. A nurse hurried from behind the curtain, Susan grabbed her.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Doctor will be out in a moment.” Then, empathy overcoming protocol, she patted Susan’s arm. “He seems to have woken up, my love.” Susan sagged heavily against me, luckily we were near a couple of chairs, because I felt none too steady myself. I put her on one and me on the other. I could still feel the tube sliding up out of my throat, so couldn’t say anything, in case I was sick. Susan had gone completely silent now, inside and out – an overload of emotion, blanketing all coherent thought. And then the rest of the family were there, and suddenly I was in the midst of everyone holding on to everyone else, with a lot of sobbing going on. Honestly, I was all in favour of client contact, but this was rather more than I’d ever had in mind. I was thankful, when Mr Naylish emerged from behind the curtain, looking ruffled but pleased, and we all had to break apart to listen.

  “Don’t know, don’t know yet.” He said, holding up a hand, to the barrage of questions. “Too soon to tell. We’ve given him more pain relief for his leg and his throat’s a wee bit raw, from the intubation. He’s confused, but that’s only to be expected. As far as we can tell, just now, he’s reacting normally, reflexes doing what we’d want.” He looked at me briefly, “Whatever this young lady was saying to him, seems to have done the trick, but, as I say, early days yet, early days. But progress, good progress and far quicker than we might have expected with this sort of injury. Yes, yes, by all means, you can go in now if you want.”

  I didn’t want and made vague noises about not intruding, but got swept in despite that. Hanging back, as the family gathered round the bed, I was unspeakably relieved to see, that in truth, Devlin didn’t seem to be in the least bit confused. He was, in fact, already insisting, in a hoarse little voice, getting stronger by the minute, that he wanted some ice-cream, with chocolate sprinkles and he wanted that immediately, if not sooner. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? I breathed out a sigh that came out as a small sob.

  It wasn’t yet 10.30 in the morning, but what with one thing and another, it had been an active couple of days, and I couldn’t wait to take my thumping head out of the hospital. I’d thought, if hearts were shocked to re-start them, it might work the same way with brains. It had been a gamble, with stakes higher than I wanted to think about. Heart said I’d done the right thing, head reiterated the risks, instinct insisted there hadn’t been a lot of choice.

  In the car, I leant back and closed my eyes, I wasn’t feeling too good. I thought it probably best to give the nausea a few minutes to subside, before I attempted to leave, extraction from the Royal Free car park, not being an exercise for the faint-hearted. Someone knocked on my window – that seemed to be happening a lot lately. I jumped, but thought maybe if I ignored them, they’d think I was sleeping or dead and go away. But they knocked again. I reluctantly opened one eye. An anxious looking chap was peering in.

  “You OK?” he mouthed. I smiled and nodded. He made wind down your window motions. God save me from do-gooders. I smiled again, gave him a perky thumbs-up, to show how really fine and dandy I was and put the key in the ignition. He still didn’t go away, so I reluctantly opened the window.

  “You look awful.” He said.

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean, you shouldn’t drive.”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  “Look, we were going to get a taxi, but let me drive you wherever you need to go, we can get a cab home from there.” I looked at him blankly.

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” He moved aside slightly and I saw a familiar figure behind him, small and elegant in a tan, cinched at the waist, leather coat. Laura Gold inclined her head a fraction. I could see she was in one of her remote moods, also that her right wrist was in a plaster cast. I instantly understood. My Good Samaritan was acting, not so much out of kindness of the heart, but because I’d proved so useful when it came to his mother, in the recent past. He wasn’t too thrilled at the thought of me now driving into a brick wall and upsetting the status quo. He was one of those people I could hardly read, but I got the overall picture.

  “Donald?” I said. He shook his head,

  “David.”

  “Right.” I said. Laura stepped forward,

  “Darling, we really should be going, I’m in qu
ite a lot of pain and if Stella’s happy to drive, well…” She shrugged.

  “Ma, we can’t let her drive off on her own. Look at her.” I was starting to get a little ratty, I know I’d had a bit of tense morning, but nobody likes being told they look that bad and I like to think I can take a fair amount of drama, in my stride.

  “Get in the car, Ma.” God he was bossy. He’d already opened the back door for Laura, shutting it sharply, as she whipped in a length of tan leather and he was now holding my door open, waiting for me to get out and move round to the passenger side. I really didn’t have strength or time for an argument, I slid out.

  Having got us out from the close confines of the car park, with far less fuss, not to mention damage than I’d have probably managed, we drove for few minutes in silence, which suited me fine. I wasn’t in a chit chatty mood. Mercifully, neither was my temporary driver, nor our passenger, who contented herself with the occasional theatrical moan, whenever we hit a bump and jerked the injured limb. After a while, I felt common courtesy, called for a polite query.

  “What happened to your wrist, Mrs Gold?”

  “She fell. It’s broken.” David answered briskly for her. Laura didn’t add detail, although I clearly saw a chain of events, involving migraine pills, an ill-conceived surge of sentimentality and a sudden urge to get all the family photo albums, down from the loft.

  “I’m sorry.” I murmured.

  “Don’t be.” He said, “It’s hardly your fault. Anyway, anybody daft enough to climb a loft-ladder in stilettos, is asking for trouble. Lucky she didn’t break her neck.” He was pretty fed up. I could feel the amalgam of irritation, frustration, apprehension and love he had for the woman. Fleetingly, I hoped, if I ever had a son, he’d have as much patience. We went over another road bump and there was a yelp from the back, but he assumed and I knew, it was more pathos than pain, so neither of us paid too much attention. He glanced over at me, critically.

  “Looking a bit more human now.” He said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, you were a very peculiar colour. Were you visiting or… ?” He paused delicately.

  “Visiting.” I said briefly and then because, under the circumstances, that sounded rather ungracious, I added. “A little boy, we do quite a bit of work for his family, he got knocked down by a car.”

  “I’m sorry. Will he be OK?”

  “I hope so.” I said. Rightly or wrongly, this morning’s little exercise had been a now or never sort of thing. I’d just have to live with whichever way the results panned out. I briefly felt again, the tube sliding up out of my throat and swallowed hard. David looked apprehensive,

  “Not going to throw up are you?”

  “No.” I said, hoping I could keep my word. Laura Gold from the back, muttered if I did, she’d pass out, she had a phobia! I leaned back in the seat and concentrated on not making things any more complicated than they already were that day. I should have known better. Back at the office, Hilary waylaid me before I even reached the stairs.

  “What’ve you been up to now?” she said.

  “Nothing.” I said, which wasn’t strictly true, but I didn’t know what she was talking about, so thought it best to not commit at this stage. “Why?”

  “Police,” she jerked her head in an upstairs direction. “Waiting for you, in your office.” My heart sank, I’d only ever had one brush with the law in the past – and that hadn’t gone well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kitty and Brenda were at their desks and both nodded towards my office, when I raised my eyebrows.

  “Thought it best, to put him in there.” said Brenda, “You know, in case anyone else came in. Police here, doesn’t look good does it?”

  “D’you want me in there with you, funny fellow, don’t like the look of him at all?” Kitty, drew herself to her full 4ft 11 inches and looked belligerent.

  “Don’t be daft. I’ll be fine. What did he say?” They both shrugged,

  “Nothing much really,” said Brenda, and I was pleased to see Kitty getting busy with the kettle, I felt a coffee might be the only thing, right now, that might keep me going. “Just flashed one of those badgy things at us, said he needed to talk to you. We told him, we didn’t know when you’d be in. He said he’d wait, because you were on your way.” Brenda paused, “Don’t know how he knew.” I shook my head, but as I hung my coat up, was sorely tempted to put it back on and turn tail.

  He unfolded himself from the chair in front of my desk, as I came in, and just seemed to keep on unfolding. He was at least six foot five or six, with a thin, bony frame that seemed totally inadequate to support his height. Receding hair, emphasised the shape and boniness of his skull. He looked as if he was on day release from a medical school lecture room, a jointed example of what the students could expect to be working on in future. He was late fifties or early sixties. From behind round, wire-framed glasses, sharp eyes assessed me and he smiled briefly – I hoped he hadn’t caught the skeleton thought. He was totally and unnaturally unreadable. He held out a hand I didn’t take.

  “I’m Boris.” He said.

  “Yes, I thought you might be. What do you want?”

  “I work with Rachael and Ruth. Rachael told me you wouldn’t want to talk.”

  “Rachael and I don’t often agree on things, but this time, she’s spot on.” He laughed, surprisingly warm and full-throated and his scent washed over me, deep and dark tobacco-scented.

  “And are you actually police?” I asked. He shook his head,

  “Technically, no. But makes life easier if you show people a badge, lowers so many time-wasting barriers.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I do work with them, so not totally.”

  “Right,” I said, “Look, let’s save ourselves some time here shall we? Whatever you want, the answer’s no.” I’d seated myself behind my desk, and pulled a pile of files towards me, indicating the time had come to get on with some work. I’d had it up to here with the lot of them, dropping in and disrupting. I just wanted to be left alone to get on with normal.

  “You made the right call, this morning,” he said, “With Devlin.” He’d re-folded and seated himself and wasn’t looking like a chap with plans to go anywhere else soon. “No choice really, you had to try and it worked – by the skin of your teeth – but it did work.” I glared at him. Now I really was angry. It was one thing Rachael and Glory swanning in and out of my head at will, at least we knew each other, he was a total stranger.

  “Sorry,” he said, “I wanted your attention.” I stood abruptly, knocking over a file which spitefully spat papers all over the floor.

  “OK, you’ve got it.” I snapped, “And now I want you to go.” If there was a muscle moved, it didn’t show. I rarely lost my cool, couldn’t afford to. Yes, I got cross and took action, but real anger was rare, it had to be. I could feel it stirring now.

  “Please, don’t do anything we’ll both regret.” He said lazily, and for just a moment, I could feel his strength, I also knew mine. I’m not sure whether or not, I’d have tested things, but Kitty, at that moment, opened the door and bustled in with a tray, her anxiety levels running high. They’d heard me shout and shouting at policemen, wasn’t at all the sort of thing they thought was a good idea. Kitty put the tray on the desk, tutted over the papers on the floor, caught my eye and swiftly kicked them into a slightly neater pile, before heading out. I sat down, the moment had passed.

  “Start again?” He said. I hitched an ungracious shoulder.

  “Quicker you say what you came to say, quicker you can go.”

  “You know about the work Ruth does?” he asked. I nodded,

  “With children and teens.”

  “Not that, the missing persons stuff.” He said, I shook my head. He reached out a ridiculously long arm for his cup and sipp
ed. “She makes a good cup of coffee, your aunt. You know she’s not too good at the moment?”

  “Who, Kitty?”

  “Ruth.”

  “Oh right. Yes, Rachael said.”

  “She’s exhausted, but there’s something else too, we’re not quite sure what, we’re sorting it out. The problem is, until she feels better, she’s a bit out of action.”

  “I’m sorry.” I said, and indeed I was, it was far easier to be fond of Ruth, than it was to get on with her more acerbic sister. “What’s it to do with me though?” The apprehension I’d felt on finding him there, wasn’t easing off one little bit.

  “I was there, you know, the other week.” He said, I didn’t like this habit he had, of going off at a conversational tangent, it was disconcerting.

  “Where?”

  “Martha Vevovsky. Wanted to see what you did.”

  “What do you mean? Was that some sort of test you were putting me through?”

  “More of a two birds with one stone sort of thing.” He said reflectively. “Inserting a spoke in her wheel was important – we’ve done that for a short while I think, though it won’t last – but I wanted to see if what the others felt about you, was right.” I could feel my irritation surge again.

  “And… ?”

  “They were.” He said. I shifted in my seat and looked pointedly at my watch.

  “Give me just five minutes more?” He extracted a white paper bag from his pocket, proffering it to me across the desk. I shook my head and he took out a round sweet and popped it in his mouth. I could smell aniseed – I hate that smell. “What are you hearing now?” He was doing the tangent thing again, I refused to be disconcerted.