Breakneck point, p.16
Breakneck Point, page 16
‘Penny runs Seven Hills Lodges where we live. You know Penny. The lady who wears the brightly coloured skirts and feathers in her hair.’ I exchange smiles with Pen. ‘She put feathers in your hair once for your tenth birthday party, bright pink ones, but they made you sneeze. She’s looked after you a lot, especially when I’ve had to go to work. She taught you all the Beatles songs, although I’ve just about forgiven her for doing that.’
‘Unfortunately, your mother has no musical appreciation. Lucky you and I do, eh, Megan?’ Penny chips in, her Scouse accent broadening in defence of anything remotely connected to her home city. I laugh and look to Megan to join in. Nothing.
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her cool skin warm. ‘Megan, please, come back to me.’
Nothing.
I don’t know what to say any more. I’ve run out of words. My brain has stalled. Even the inane is beyond me. Staring down at my hand clasped around Megan’s, I search for inspiration. But there is only one thought suspended, midway in my mind like a neon light on the darkest of streets. Who did this to you, Megan?
I throw Penny a pleading look. She stares at me and then opens her mouth, but not to speak. Instead, she starts to sing. Quietly, at first, just under her breath, almost as an act of self-comfort, but my smile wills her to sing louder and she responds. Each note is clear and confident. She’s singing ‘Yellow Submarine’.
The song is so familiar to me. Penny taught it to Megan when she was about nine. She loved it, singing it in supermarkets, the back of the car, the beach, our bench, everywhere until it drove me mad.
Penny gets up from the chair and joins me by Megan’s bedside, placing her hand on my shoulder, connecting herself to Megan, through me. Then as suddenly as she started, she stops singing.
‘What is it?’
‘Her eyelids flickered.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
I stare down at Megan, but I’m sure she hasn’t moved.
‘Keep singing.’
Penny starts from the beginning again. She gets as far as the third line when Megan’s eyelids twitch. Just for a second.
‘Oh my God. Megan. You’re back.’
27
The consultant tells us it’s too soon to hang out the bunting, but everything is moving in the right direction and, for that, we must be grateful.
‘She’s doing really well. Well done, Megan.’ He turns to me. ‘And well done to you too.’
‘It was Penny’s singing that did it.’
‘It all helps. Look, now might be a good time to give yourself a bit of a break. Can I suggest that you go home, get changed, get some fresh air even? Your friend Penny is here and we’ll take good care of Megan while you’re gone.’
Penny is beaming, and almost giddy after the effect her singing has had on Megan.
‘He’s right, Ally. Go and get some proper rest. I’ll read to Megan. Or if she’s really unlucky, I’ll sing to her again.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Honestly, Megan and I will be just fine, won’t we, Megan?’
She smiles at my daughter and I feel the mildest of pangs that I’m ashamed to admit is envy. Why did Megan respond to Penny? I dismiss it before it morphs into something uglier. The important thing is Megan reacted and, anyway, didn’t the consultant say it was our combined efforts that had made the difference?
I don’t want to leave for fear of missing the next step of Megan’s recovery, but, put simply, I feel gross. I haven’t left the hospital since Megan was brought in two days ago. I risked a glance in the toilet mirror and instantly regretted it. Lack of sleep has darkened and sagged the skin around my eyes. My hair has taken on a greasy gloss and my teeth are tacky to my tongue’s touch. I suspect my breath stinks and there’s every likelihood that I smell. I am the epitome of someone letting themselves go, but I need me back for when Megan returns. I don’t want her to see the toll her attack has had on me.
I smile back at Penny.
‘Thanks, Pen.’
The high green hedges and outlying villages that line the route of the Barnston to Bidecombe road flash by until I reach Heale Cross, a desolate peak where the road splits, left to Morte Sands, right towards the moor or straight on to Bidecombe.
The road curves down towards the town, passing the cast-iron railings that surround the old rec. I’m half expecting to see Megan monopolizing one of the benches with her friends, tiredness and my need for normality still scorching all reason. It’s empty, of course. At this time, the kids are still in school and Megan is lying in a hospital bed. The new normality.
Just as I’m about to take a left turning towards Seven Hills Lodges, movement catches my eye and I spy a figure in jeans and a hoodie shuffling across the wide expanse of grass on his way to cause misery.
Before I’ve thought it through, I’ve pulled over, jumped out of the car and am running towards him.
‘Jay! Stop!’
He turns at the sound of his name and, when he sees it’s me, considers doing a runner but even he knows his skunk-nourished limbs and lungs are unlikely to get him far so he just stands and waits for me to reach him.
‘I had nothing to do with it.’ Denial is his default setting although, in this case, he’s telling the truth. ‘And thanks for grassing me up to the pigs.’
I’m not apologizing for that. He might not be guilty of hurting Megan, but he’s guilty of plenty of other things.
‘I know you had nothing to do with it. I just want to talk to you, that’s all.’
‘I told you. I already spoke to your lot. Not that I had any choice. The detective with the stupid hair was a total dick.’
Holt obviously leaned on him a little too hard. For once, I’m with Holt.
‘I’m not asking you as a CSI, I’m asking you as Megan’s mother.’
He shrugs, but he doesn’t tell me to fuck off. That’s progress for Jay.
‘You hung out together a few days before she was attacked? How was she?’
He takes a deep drag on a roll-up so thin he’s in no danger of a nicotine rush, using the time to decide if he’ll answer me or not. To my amazement, he does.
‘She was upset. She’d seen her stepdad at school. She told me he’d been a right bastard to you and her when she was little. She was scared of him.’
My heart pinches on hearing this.
‘Are you and her in a relationship?’
A laugh turns into a hacking cough.
‘No,’ he says through watery eyes. ‘I asked her out. Of course I did. She’s a stunner, but I got the impression she was interested in someone else, know what I mean?’
I don’t. This is the first I’ve heard of this.
‘Have you told the police this?’
‘’Course not.’
‘But it might help them find her attacker.’
Jay gives me a ‘so what’ look. I picture his interview with the police. Monosyllabic, evasive, aggressive, he’s never going to be a leading light in his local Neighbourhood Watch. I hope Holt gave him both barrels.
‘It’s nothing to do with me, is it?’
‘So, who was this someone else she was interested in?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t ask.’
‘Was it someone she met online?’
He shrugs and I ignore the urge to slap him.
‘Jay, Megan was brutally assaulted. If you cared for her, you’d want to help catch the person who did it.’
‘I don’t know, right? We didn’t talk about stuff like that, know what I mean?’
‘So, what did you talk about?’
‘Stuff.’
‘Like?’
‘Just stuff.’
It’s pointless. This is all I’m going to get. This kid is genetically programmed to hate the police.
‘OK. Thanks.’
I’m about to leave when Jay starts talking again.
‘How is she? I sent you a text.’
‘I know. I read it out to her.’
‘Really? Thought you hated me. That’s what Megan said.’
‘Hate? No. Disapprove? Yes. Can you blame me?’
‘Fairs. Has she woken up?
‘Not yet. But she will.’
He nods and takes another drag before flicking the butt to one side.
‘She was nice to me, you know, but I never gave her nothing. She wasn’t into it. She was just really nice to talk to. She was really proud of you, of the job you did. Talked about you all the time. Said she wanted to join the police when she was older. Be like you.’
I didn’t know this. Why don’t I know this? How come he knows more about my daughter’s hopes and dreams than I do? Christ, where the hell have I been?
Bernadette’s condemnation, Megan responding to Penny’s voice and now a fucking drug dealer knowing more about my daughter than I do suddenly meet and merge into a dark swell of emotion that forces its way into my throat, and threatens to burst out of me. I press my lips together in a way that would make Bernadette proud. I have to hold on; I can’t let it out, not here.
Jay places a hand gently on my arm. The suspicion, the defiance, the easy hatred of authority has gone, and his eyes simply reflect my pain back to me. His father got locked up when he was eight and his mum died of a heroin overdose when he was twelve. This boy has known heartache. A tear breaks in the corner of my eye and I quickly wipe it away with my knuckle before it goes fully public.
‘She’s a great girl,’ he says.
‘I know.’ Christ, of all the people in all the world, I find comfort with Jay Cox. Another tear threatens to replace the first and I plug my nostrils with the back of my hand hoping it’ll do the job of stemming my emotions. It doesn’t and I just give into it.
‘I just want her back,’ I say through the blur.
‘Sorry,’ he says, and he means it.
‘Me too.’
I walk slowly back towards my car.
‘Ally!’
I turn back to Jay.
‘What? Have you remembered something?’
‘Just make sure your lot catch the fucker.’
28
He knocks on the door of cabin 27. This is a much better idea, after last night’s setback.
The cop insisted on escorting him back down to the main reception on the ground floor. Jim was on the front desk. Luckily, he remembered they’d brought in a man who’d had a heart attack during the week so he told Jim he wanted to check in on a patient, but had been given the wrong ward name. When the police officer realized he was a paramedic – a member of the bluelight family – he couldn’t do enough for him, falling over himself to apologize, he was. He accepted the idiot’s apology, of course, told him he understood he was only doing his job.
The CSI opens the door, towel-drying her hair. She’s so like Danielle, it takes all his resolve not to start at the sight of her.
‘Simon, hello, er, is everything all right?’
Through his uniform, his heart is pounding.
‘Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I said to the other paramedics I’d drop by and ask how Megan is. We’re all very worried about your daughter, but I didn’t like to disturb you on the ward. One of the nurses said you’d gone home.’
She relaxes.
‘Oh, I see. Yes, I just came back to shower and change. I’m heading back to the hospital now.’
‘We heard she was still in a coma. We’re all praying for her to recover.’
‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you and please pass my thanks on to your colleagues.’
‘We bought this for you. It’s not much, but we wanted you to know that we’re thinking of you.’ He holds out a card. She stares down at it. ‘It’s affected us all really badly, if I’m honest. I can’t get the image of Megan out of my head.’
She smiles and steps to one side.
‘Why don’t you come in for a moment?’
They enter the living room with a small kitchenette to one side. There’s a pile of unopened cards on the kitchen bar so he tucks his in among them. He’s rather proud of it. It wasn’t cheap either.
She directs him to a large, lumpy sofa facing a huge mural of a Caribbean beach that has been spoiled with childish drawings of boats and people swimming.
Those full lips of hers are still smiling.
‘I never thanked you and Trisha properly for what you did. Megan wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for your actions.’
‘I’m just glad we got there in time. How is she?’
‘Actually, she’s beginning to respond.’
No. That can’t be.
‘That’s fantastic news. Did she say anything?’
‘No, it’s much too soon for that. When I say respond, her eyelids flickered to the sound of my friend singing.’
‘So she’s not awake?’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘But you’re still expecting her to wake up?’
She frowns at him.
‘Yes, of course.’
He pulls back.
‘We know so little about the brain, don’t we? You hear of people waking up after months of being in a coma as if nothing has happened to them.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’
‘Although I guess she won’t remember anything of the attack.’
‘No, the doctor says she’s very unlikely to have any memory of that day, but maybe that’s a good thing. I’m not sure I want her to remember any of this.’
‘I can understand that.’ Of course, she won’t remember! He knows that. He’s a paramedic.
The CSI stands up, signalling their conversation is over.
‘Anyway, it was very thoughtful of you to drop by and thank you for the card, but I ought to get back to the hospital.’
She moves towards the door, but he hangs back. He doesn’t want their conversation to end.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks.
‘I’m fine. Just a bit upset about everything, that’s all.’
‘I know. I understand.’
‘I can’t imagine how you felt when you found out.’
‘Yes, it was terrible.’
‘You’re a CSI. You’ve seen lots of terrible things, but it’s different when it’s your own flesh and blood. The paramedics with kids always say their worst nightmare would be to attend an incident and discover it’s their own child.’
‘Yes. I can understand that.’
‘How do you even begin to come to terms with that?’
‘We’re just taking things day by day. Look, I’m sorry to rush you, but I really need to go.’
She walks towards the front door and holds it open for him, signalling for him to leave, but he isn’t finished.
‘Your daughter spoke before she lost consciousness.’
It isn’t true, of course, but she closes the door. The hospital and her daughter can wait, after all. Satisfaction fires his insides.
‘Megan spoke?’
‘As I held her in my arms.’
Her body stiffens as if she’s trying to absorb an electric shock that’s passed through her.
‘What did she say?’ Her dark brown eyes trawl his for the answer. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted. She’s bewitched him. She moves so close to him he could almost reach out and touch her. ‘Simon, what did she say?’
‘I think she thought I was you. She just said, “Mum, I’m sorry.”’
Her lips part to take a tiny breath and her face pinches like the oxygen in her lungs has been replaced with poisonous gas.
‘I see.’ She exhales the words.
‘I thought it might help to know she was thinking of you before she lost consciousness.’
She smiles.
‘It has. Thank you, Simon.’
29
Apologize? For what? Oh, Megan, you’ve nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault.
The idea that her last thought before she slipped into unconsciousness was to say sorry to me is almost unbearable. A man beat her senseless and all she could think of was how she was to blame, how I would be angry with her for what this monster did to her. Part of me wishes Simon had kept this to himself. He thought he was doing the right thing but it has just dredged fresh agony to the surface. My daughter called out to me in the moment of her greatest need. Convinced herself I was there, cradling her. I wasn’t.
As I turn into the hospital grounds, I try to ignore this hard mass of guilt wedged inside my chest, hoping it will fade if I focus on the good. Megan’s eyelids twitched at the sound of Penny singing her favourite song. I don’t dwell on it being Penny’s voice that she reacted to. Why wouldn’t it be? Penny is like a second mum to Megan. The important thing is she responded. She’s on the road to recovery and when she’s better things will be different. I will be around more. I’ll be there for her.
Strolling across the hospital car park, someone calls my name. It’s Gary, the mortician’s assistant.
‘Ally, hi, how are you? Alex and I heard about your daughter.’
I haven’t seen him since he and Alex Blandford, the pathologist, did the postmortem on Janie Warren, but I’m touched that he has gone out of his way to talk to me when it would have been easier to avoid me.
‘OK, thanks.’ We both know it’s a lie. I may have had a shower and brushed my hair, but I look exactly like someone who hasn’t had more than a couple of hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours. Shit, in other words.
‘How’s she doing?’
‘Better, thank you. Still a long way to go.’
‘It’s a terrible thing to happen to a young girl. Trisha is just so pleased that she’s going to be OK.’
‘Trisha?’
‘My girlfriend. She’s one of the paramedics that saved Megan. Trisha Wilkins.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ve just seen Simon. He dropped a get well soon card off at my cabin. Please pass on my thanks.’
‘I will. It’ll mean a lot to her. It’s been rough. She’s still feeling a bit guilty.’
‘She has nothing to feel guilty about.’
‘That’s what I said, but she reckons the delay in getting to Megan cost them a good few minutes.’
‘What delay?’
Gary opens then closes his mouth. He glances around the car park.
