Breakneck point, p.17
Breakneck Point, page 17
‘It’s er – it’s nothing, just that Simon had to go and pick her up before they could respond to the call. She’d stayed with a patient while he went for lunch.’
‘I see. Look, tell Trisha from me those few extra minutes honestly wouldn’t have made any difference. She and Simon couldn’t have done more for Megan and I’m indebted to them both.’
‘Thanks, Ally. She’ll appreciate that. I’ll see you around.’
He turns to leave when another thought occurs to me.
‘Actually. There’s one other thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Did Megan say anything to Trisha before she lost consciousness?’
He frowns.
‘I thought they found her unconscious. Why?’
‘Oh, it’s just that Simon mentioned that Megan spoke, and I wondered if she said something to Trisha too.’
He shrugs.
‘Trisha didn’t say anything to me about it, but she really doesn’t like to talk about it. I think she just wants to put it behind her. Sorry.’ He looks at me, guilty that his girlfriend has moved on.
I place my hand on his arm.
‘It’s OK and it’s not important. Trisha saved Megan’s life. I’ll always be grateful to her for that.’
Poor Trisha. She has nothing to reproach herself over.
I walk into the hospital. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to be with Megan. Too impatient to wait for the lift, I take the back stairs two at a time up to her room on the third floor of the hospital. A nurse buzzes me into ICU.
‘Good news about Megan. We’re all cheering her on.’
‘Thank you.’
I quicken my pace, excited to be back with her and for the next sign that she’s coming back to me. Christ, I’ll sing the Beatles’ entire back catalogue myself if that’s what it takes.
But as I open the door to her room, there’s a man standing by Megan’s bedside, leaning over her.
* * *
He turns the key in the front door and laughter rushes into the gap. It’s coming from the living room. It’s Jackie and her carer, Arjun. His chest sags. He doesn’t need this. He has work to do.
Things have moved quickly – much more quickly than he could have anticipated – and he needs to come up with a plan.
He puts his head around the living-room door. Arjun is kneeling before Jackie massaging her feet. The earthy smell of juniper oil permeates the air. Jackie is just loving all the attention, giggling like a lovestruck teenager. She’s even made some attempt to brush her few remaining strands of hair.
‘Hello, my love. Arjun is giving me a foot massage.’
‘Is he now? I’ve bought you some sweets.’
He produces the packet from his hoodie pocket, but, eyes fixed on Arjun, she waves it away.
‘Just put it on the side. I’ll have them later. We’ve had a wonderful morning, haven’t we, Arjun?’
Arjun, in his grey carer’s uniform, looks up at him. His face breaks into a broad grin and he flashes a perfect set of white teeth that he’d dearly like to put his foot through.
‘Yes, we’ve had a great time.’
Jackie is red in the face, almost giddy with excitement. It’s pathetic.
‘We’ve been to Morte Sands.’
This throws him.
‘You go to Morte Sands every day.’
Arjun frowns at her. Jackie laughs that slightly-too-loud fake laugh.
‘He means I watch it on the live cam. No, we went there for real, didn’t we, Arjun? Arjun bought me a chococino from the nice man that runs the Coffee Shack.’
What is it with this ‘didn’t we, Arjun?’ nonsense? She’s talking as if they’re lifelong friends.
‘What do you mean, you went there for real?’
Arjun replaces the top on his massage oil.
‘The company I work for has bought a minibus and hired a driver, Stan, so he took a few of us out for the morning. I thought the fresh air would do Jackie some good. Put some colour in her cheeks.’
How dare he? Who does he think he is, taking his wife out without his permission?
‘Oh, I see. Well, it’s all right for some, I suppose.’
‘Simon, it was so lovely to be outside, feeling the sun on my face, watching all the children running up and down the beach. We even had ice cream.’
‘You did really well. I’m really proud of you. I didn’t think you’d get out of the van, but you did. I think the live cams have made Morte Sands feel familiar and safe for you,’ says Arjun.
‘Is that so?’ He sounds calm, but his insides are churning with anger, anger that will keep. ‘Well, thank you, Arjun. It was a very kind thing to do for Jackie.’
‘No problem. Maybe, in time, we might hire one of the dune buggies. They’re specially adapted for the disabled.’
‘That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Simon?’
‘If you like that sort of thing.’
Arjun fixes Jackie’s slippers back onto her feet and stands up. ‘Right, that’s me done. See you tomorrow, Jackie. Simon, can I have a quick word?’
The two men step out in the hallway.
‘Jackie complains a lot about stomach pains and she’s definitely lost weight these last few months. I think she should see a doctor. It’s probably nothing serious, but she should get it looked at.’
He doesn’t need to take Jackie to the doctor. He already knows what she’s got. It’s called Rapunzel Syndrome and it’s where people compulsively pull their hair out and eat it. Jackie has been doing it for years, before he met her, but hair isn’t biodegradable which means it’s just sitting in her stomach, a huge black tangled mass of a million hair strands slowly damming up her intestine. It’s why she lives on sweets; it’s the only thing she can consume that doesn’t give her severe stomach ache. It’s also why her breath stinks, but an ulcer can’t be far away now and, untreated, that’ll be enough to shut down her vital organs.
‘You’re absolutely right, Arjun. I’ve noticed it myself. I’ll get her an appointment.’
Arjun leaves and he returns to Jackie, but the smiles have all gone. They were just for Arjun but he’s the one that cares for her around the clock. He’s the one that buys her Gold Bears and puts up with her ridiculous obsession with the miniature furry variety.
‘You’re annoyed with me for going out, aren’t you?’
He takes her hand.
‘No, I’m not annoyed, my love. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought of all those people staring and laughing at you. I can’t bear it.’
Jackie looks down at her hands.
‘No one was staring. Everyone was just having a good time. Arjun wouldn’t let anyone say anything mean to me or about me.’
He crouches beside her chair and is rewarded with waves of her pungent breath escaping from the huge hairy knot in her stomach.
‘I just worry about you, that’s all. Remember the comments you used to get when I took you out. “There’s goes Gollum.”’
‘Yes,’ she nods.
‘I couldn’t stand it if that happened again.’
No one called Jackie Gollum or anything else for that matter, but he needed a reason to stop taking her out. It was tedious and embarrassing to be seen out with her, so he began to tell her all the terrible things people said behind her back. She was devastated, but he told her that she couldn’t let these people get to her. He, for one, was proud to be seen in her company. It wasn’t long before she told him she didn’t want to go out any more, until now. Arjun was apparently her new safe person, and he couldn’t have that.
‘But I’m sure Arjun would protect me. He’s my friend.’
‘Oh, Jackie. Arjun is paid to be nice to you.’
She looks horrified. The thought has never occurred to her.
‘What – what do you mean?’
‘He doesn’t really care about you. I bet you anything he’s in the pub laughing with his mates about you right now.’
‘I thought he really liked me.’
Unable to tolerate her breath any longer, he stands up.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you, but it’s better you know the truth. Look, I don’t mind if you want to go out. Go out every day, all day, if you want to, I’m only trying to protect you, that’s all.’
Jackie nods.
‘Why don’t you see what’s happening at Morte Sands?’
He presses the button on the remote and the screens light up with images from the live cams on Morte Sands.
‘Look, the tide’s coming in. There’s lots of sandcastles on the beach today. And, look, someone’s drawn a massive heart in the sand.’
She’s not interested. Her mind is elsewhere, and she picks up Florence Nightingale and strokes her furry head, but he has no intention of letting her sulks ruin his day. He isn’t going to make her a doctor’s appointment either. He picks up the packet of Haribo and goes upstairs.
30
Sean is standing by Megan’s bedside, holding a bunch of wilting petrol station flowers in one hand, the other on her forehead. It’s a tableau from one of my more disturbing dreams where Sean is back in our lives as if nothing happened and I am mute and immobile, but this isn’t a dream.
‘Get away from her!’
This explodes from me with enough force to startle Sean into taking a step back from the bed, giving me time to plant myself between him and Megan, arms outstretched, guarding her against him.
‘I’m still her dad.’
His entitled ‘I’ll do what I want’ tone sickens me. You’re my wife. If I want to hit you, I will.
‘No, you’re not. You never were. Now get out.’
He shakes his head at what he sees as my unreasonableness.
‘For God’s sake, Ally, calm down. I’ve only come to see how she is.’
‘We don’t want you here. Megan is terrified of you. Just go.’
His eyes invite me to make him leave and he stands his ground. No one pushes Sean around, especially not a woman. Then he moves closer to me. He has a foot on me and uses this to the full, leaning over me, reminding me of his strength and what he’s capable of.
‘She was pleased to see me at school the other day.’
I let out a dismissive laugh that I didn’t know I was capable of, which again disorientates Sean because he’s never heard it before, nor seen the sneer on my face, but it feels good. I’m not frightened of him, not any more.
‘She was pretending, you prick. It’s called fear – fear that unless she behaves the way you want her to, you’ll hurt her.’
‘What? I would never hurt her. It’s you. You’ve turned her against me.’
He might be up for a row, but I’m not.
‘Just leave us alone, Sean.’
‘No, I’ve every right to see my stepdaughter.’
He’s enjoying the drama of it all. Christ, he’s probably been telling his mates down the pub that the girl that was attacked is his and that he’ll be the one to bring her out of her coma because her mother is useless.
‘I said, get out.’ This time my voice is loud enough to bring two nurses running into the room. One look at the size of Sean brings them to an abrupt halt and they huddle in the doorway.
‘This man isn’t a relative. He shouldn’t be here and I want him to leave.’
‘She’s lying. I’m Sean Parker. This is my stepdaughter, Megan Parker.’
‘I want him out. Now.’
One of the braver nurses steps into the room and takes Sean’s arm.
‘Sir, you’ll have to leave, otherwise we’ll call security.’
He snatches his arm back. His eyes never leave mine.
‘This is your fault. If I’d have been around, this would never have happened. This isn’t the end of it.’
The nurses accompany him out. He glares at me through the window, his face hard with fury. He’s not used to losing and certainly not to me.
I turn to Megan and pray none of this permeated her consciousness. I sit on her bed and lean over her, navigating the tubes and wires, to enclose her in my arms in an awkward one-sided embrace.
‘I’m so sorry, Meggy. I didn’t know he was going to be here.’
But it’s too late. I’ve let her down again. That’s what she said to me when she overheard my conversation with Sean at her school. You always let me down. And she’s right.
I know what a monster Sean is. I should have known he would do something like this. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. I stood by and let it happen just like I did all those years ago. I didn’t protect Megan from Sean and I didn’t protect her from whoever did this to her.
I stroke Megan’s hair releasing an almond aroma, her favourite shampoo.
‘No more excuses, Megan. I promise.’
Holt appears in the doorway. I intercept him before he gets any further and we step into the corridor outside Megan’s room.
‘You OK? I heard there was a problem with your ex. He told the PC he was her dad, so he let him in. The idiot. He could have been anyone. Anyway, I’ve bollocked him for it. Your ex won’t be allowed anywhere near her again.’
‘Thanks.’
‘How’s Megan?’
My smile relaxes him slightly.
‘Actually, she’s starting to respond so the signs are positive. We’ve just got to wait.’
‘Ally, that’s great news.’
He’s genuinely pleased. He’s already lived this a hundred times in a hundred different cases, but when it’s one of the police family it crosses some invisible threshold, and it’s felt more keenly.
‘What about you? How’s the investigation going?’
Who did this to you, Megan?
‘Good. So the blood on the steel pole found near the scene is Megan’s. Jake also appears to have got a partial fingerprint from it.’
‘That’s good. Anything on the system?’
‘No. Nothing. It’s a good print, so whoever did this hasn’t got a criminal record.’
I don’t know why, but the news doesn’t surprise me.
‘OK.’ My mind is still trying to wrap itself around the idea Megan’s attacker dropped the weapon – complete with blood and fingerprints on it – but remembered to get rid of Megan’s phone and not leave any other forensics at the scene. Did Jake miss something? He’s very inexperienced. It’s entirely possible. Holt told me he’d done the scene alone because they couldn’t get hold of any CSIs from the south of the county to help and the weather was closing in. I don’t blame Jake. I should have been there. ‘Anything else? What about her laptop?’
‘Digital forensics has turned her laptop inside out.’
‘Did you get into her social media accounts?’
‘We did.’
‘And?’
His expression tells me it’s not good news.
‘Nada.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘Nope. She didn’t use social media that much. She’s got a few pictures of Morte Sands on her Facebook and Instagram. A couple with her friends at the park. That’s it.’
‘What about her private messages?’
‘The usual. Lots of conversations about the teachers she hates, the boys she fancies at school, how unreasonable you are etc., etc. Like I said, the usual.’
‘Nothing else? No conversations about going to Barnston to see someone?’ I ask.
‘No. If she arranged to meet someone, she didn’t do it through her social media.’
We both look at Megan like she’s let us down.
‘I don’t understand it. I was sure you’d find something. Jay said he thought she was interested in someone.’
‘You spoke to Jay Cox?’
‘By accident. I happened to see him on my way back to Bidecombe this morning.’
Holt isn’t happy about this but keeps it to himself.
‘Well, if she was, she wasn’t talking to him on Instagram. Everyone on her messaging system has been accounted for. Unless she has another account. Is that possible?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t know why she’d bother.’
‘What about other devices? Although you can have more than one account on the same phone.’
‘No, she only has one phone. If you let me have her social media passwords, I could take a look at those messages for you.’
‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘Please, Bob. I’ll have a far better chance than you guys of spotting something suspicious, something that doesn’t sit right.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Look, we can just keep it between ourselves. If I see something, I’ll tell you. If I don’t, no harm done.’
He stares at me, weighing the options. Then he takes a pen and an old receipt from his pocket and jots down a jumble of letters and numbers and hands it to me.
‘You didn’t get this from me.’
‘Thank you. I’ll have a look later. So, what are your thoughts at the moment?’
‘That she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
My insides cave. It’s the theory detectives trot out when they don’t have much of a clue. The victim was unlucky. It could have been anyone. The problem is it’s rarely true. Most attackers know their victims, but I’m not going to argue. Holt doesn’t have to tell me any of this. He’s doing it because I’m in the job, but if I contradict him, he’ll more than likely withdraw this privilege, so I go with it. For now.
‘OK. Are there any witnesses?’
‘None that have come forward.’
‘Really? A young girl is attacked in broad daylight and no one saw anything?’ Holt shrugs. It happens. ‘So, what now?’
‘We’re running a reconstruction on tonight’s news while it’s still fresh in people’s minds.’ Kudos to Holt. He hasn’t wasted any time.
‘Great.’
‘And we want you to go into the studio, make a direct appeal for people to come forward.’
He doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t have to. The mother of a brutally attacked girl appearing live on TV? It’s a ratings winner. We both know it.
‘Of course.’
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at 5 p.m. and take you to the studio and bring you back to the hospital afterwards. Have you got someone who can sit with Megan?’
‘My friend Penny will be here.’
