by M A Comley
“That’s all right, shit happens. Did they say how she is?”
“Alive, only just, apparently. Come on, let’s go and judge for ourselves.” He took her hand and led her out of the room and into the lift which took them up four floors.
They emerged and searched the signs for the direction in which they needed to proceed next. The nurse on duty appeared at the door and ran through the procedures with them. They used the hand sanitiser and entered the unit. All the beds were full, and Trisha was lying in the one closest to the window on the right.
“Shit! I’m not sure about this,” Lucy said, taking a hesitant step onto the ward.
“I’m here. She’s alive, keep telling yourself that.” Matthew gripped her hand tighter and smiled. “Come on.”
They approached the bed and stopped at the bottom. Silence rippled between them while they stared at Trisha. The blood had been cleaned up, but there was no mistaking the pain she was in, judging by the impact on her face.
“I didn’t think she’d be this bad,” Matthew muttered.
“I hope she pulls through. You can see why I was so distraught over the phone, can’t you?”
“I can, love. We need to remain positive about her condition. She’s in the best place possible.”
“I know. I wonder how the operation went.”
“Want me to ask the nurse to come over and fill you in?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
He left her side.
She inched forward and moved around the side of the bed. She rested her hand on top of Trisha’s and squeezed it gently. “Come back to me, sweetheart. You can’t leave me, I’d never forgive you.”
Matthew and the nurse returned.
“The operation went as well as could be expected. The internal bleeding was detected and stopped. I’m afraid now we’re in for a waiting game. At present, your friend is fighting tooth and nail to stay with us.”
“She’s a fighter, there’s no doubt about that. How long will it be before she regains consciousness?”
“We don’t know. We’ll continue to monitor her closely. Look, why don’t you go home and get some rest? We can contact you if there’s any change.”
“If you’re sure. I’ve been here for hours. I’d feel bad deserting her now, though.”
“That’s only natural. Honestly, family members and friends need to realise that it’s better for them to take advantage and to get the maximum rest at this early stage. That would be my advice. You can always ring us if you want to check on her progress. You won’t be letting her down, I assure you.”
“Okay, if that’s what you think would be for the best. I’ll leave you my number. Please, ring me day or night, and I can be here within half an hour. She means everything to me.”
“Don’t worry, I understand.”
Lucy gave the nurse her mobile number, and she and Matthew said goodbye to the unconscious Trisha and left the hospital. Once outside, Lucy suffered a mini panic attack. She doubled over and struggled to grasp her breath.
Matthew pulled her upright and encouraged her to suck in a few deep breaths which she let out slowly.
“Thank you. Bloody hell, it suddenly dawned on me that she might pass away during the night and I won’t be here.”
“She won’t. I promise you she’s going to get through this, love. There’s no point in you getting yourself worked up over this.”
She glanced across the lawned area to the left and nodded. Something caught her eye. A man staring at her. She frowned, recognising him from somewhere. It wasn’t until he started walking away that she noticed he had a limp. What the hell is he doing here? Is it a coincidence?
“Better now?” Matthew asked.
“I’ll be better once I’m in the car.” She shook her head to clear it from the dangerous thoughts running through it and allowed him to lead her to the car. She peered over her shoulder a few times, only to see the man had disappeared from view.
Her mind was a whirlwind of dangerous scenarios, most of them centred around the strange bearded man with the limp. He shows up at the agency, and within days Shirley is murdered. Trisha is in an accident in her usually reliable car, and now I see him lingering outside the hospital. What’s that all about? Should I report this to the police? They’d probably think I’m an idiot. What proof do I have that he’s done anything wrong? Who is he? And what does he want?
Matthew dropped her back to Trisha’s house. He boiled the kettle and made Lucy a strong, sweet cup of tea. “Are you hungry?”
“Peckish, I couldn’t eat a lot. I think I’d bring it back up again. Sorry, was that too much information?” She smiled weakly.
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “No, love. I bet your insides are tied up in knots, aren’t they?”
“They are. My mind is thinking up all sorts as well. Oh God, what if she doesn’t pull through this? What will I do without her? She’s my rock.”
He squeezed her tightly. “Don’t think that way. You have to think positively, otherwise you might as well ring the funeral parlour now. She’s in the best place possible. The doctors and nurses will see her back on the right road. I’m sure.”
“You think? Her face…it was all mashed up. What if her brain has been affected? What then?”
“We’ll deal with that if or when it arises. Come on, how about an omelette?”
“I couldn’t eat a whole one.”
He smiled at her. “Then we’ll share one. I know you probably think I’m talking out of my arse, but please, try and remain positive. It’s not worth going down the negativity route, it won’t do you any good. You need to keep your spirits up at all times, you hear me?”
“Yes, Doctor Wallender.”
He grinned and kissed her temple. “Let’s get the ingredients out.”
They worked well together, after which Matthew instructed her to sit at the table while he prepared the meal.
“Does she have any family? Should you ring them?”
“No, I believe that’s why we’re so close. We’re all alone in this world.” Sadness draped itself around her aching shoulders, and her head dipped.
Matthew darted across the room, placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. He kissed her and said, “Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart, you’re not alone, you have me and my family.” Then he darted back to check the omelette wasn’t burning. He placed the frying pan under the grill to fluff it up and grinned at her.
“Thanks, I needed to hear that. I don’t mean to sound so down all the time. It’s not been the best of times lately, what with Shirley getting murdered.”
“All since I came into your life. Do you think I’m a bad omen for you?”
He was smiling when he said the words, but it didn’t stop her mind working overtime.
What if he’s right? Is a member of his family behind this? Are they trying to drive a wedge between us? Am I next? What? Who? Why? So many questions which need to be answered. I really don’t have a clue where to begin.
“Hello, Lucy? Where did you go? I was only joking, you know?”
“I know. It just made me think, that’s all. I’m concerned right now.”
He dished up the omelette, set the two plates on the table and sat next to her. “Understandable. Why don’t you stop beating yourself up about things until you receive the full facts from the police?”
She sighed heavily. “I know you’re right, but my brain has a mind of its own. Ouch, that was terrible, did I really say that?”
He laughed and tipped back his head. “Yep, I’m afraid you did. Eat. We’ll try and figure out what to do after we’ve filled our bellies.”
She stared at her plate. “Hardly enough to fill my belly, but I’ll give it my best shot.” She stood and wandered over to the high cupboard and removed a couple of glasses. Then she took a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Should we? What if the hospital rings and asks me to go back there to be with Trisha?”
“They won’t, and yes, yo
u should, if only one glass, it’ll help settle your nerves.”
They ate in silence and cleared away the dishes after they’d eaten, then they retired to the lounge.
“Do you want to talk things through? Will it make you feel better?”
“I’m not so sure now. Maybe we’ll snuggle up instead.”
“That’s my girl. Do you want to take your mind off Trisha by discussing the wedding?”
That’s the last thing I want to talk about.
“If you really want to.”
“I don’t, I just thought you might want to.”
“Not really. I think your mother has it all in hand, don’t you?”
He angled her head upwards, and their eyes met. “Are you all right with that?”
She shrugged. “It’s too late to prevent it now, isn’t it?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, that all I want is you and me there really. It’s our day. Why does it have to be attended by people we don’t know—sorry, I’ll correct that—people I don’t know?”
“We can call a halt to things, it’s not too late, if that’s what you truly want.”
“Bloody hell, if we even suggested that at this late stage, I’m sure your mother would have a goddamn fit.”
He sniggered. “I think you’re right.”
They fell into silence again. Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and she drifted off in the comfort and security of his arms.
16
Five years ago
“You bitch! If you screw this up for me…” Patrick’s threat lingered in the air.
“What did I do?” she bit back, regretting it the instant the words left her lips.
Whack! Whack! Whack! The blows came thick and fast. One minute she was standing in front of him, and the next the force of his hits sent her hurtling face-first across the room. He pounced on her and continued the beating for nearly five minutes, although the time elapsed seemed an eternity to her as she scrunched up into a ball against the wall, trying to protect herself.
“No, Patrick, please, stop this…”
An arm surrounded her, and a distant voice filled her fogged brain. “Lucy, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”
Lucy sat upright, tears running down her cheeks, and stared at Matthew. “Oh shit! I’m sorry.”
“You cried out the name Patrick. Who’s he?”
Averting her gaze, she shook her head. “Did I? I don’t know anyone by that name.”
He pulled her close and held her tight. “I’m not surprised you had a nightmare after what you’ve encountered recently.”
She shuddered. What the hell is wrong with me? Why does Patrick’s name keep resurfacing when things go wrong? Guilt. It’s my subconscious sticking the boot in, that’s what it is.
17
Matthew held her tightly throughout the night, sensing her need to feel the security of being in his arms. The next morning, her appetite had returned, and she got up early to surprise him with breakfast.
He came downstairs, dressed, ready to start his day. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. She almost dropped the frying pan she was serving up from.
“Down boy, we need sustenance.”
“I know. How are you today? Any more nightmares during the night?”
“No,” she lied. There had been a few, nothing as tense as the one that had surfaced on the couch the evening before, but they were prominent, nonetheless.
“Good. Shit, is that the time? I need to shovel this down my neck and get back home to get changed.”
“Sorry, maybe I should’ve woken you earlier.”
He waved away her concerns. “It’s not your fault. I have a board meeting this morning that I need to prepare for. I’ll ring ahead and get my PA on the case. It’ll be fine.”
Over their hearty breakfast of a full English, she asked, “Will I see you tonight?”
“I don’t know, it depends how the day goes.”
“Shall we give each other a miss tonight? That way I can go visit Trisha at the hospital.”
“I’d love to be there to support you but…”
“I know. Please, you don’t have to do that. I’ll give you an update when I get home, how’s that?”
“I’ll miss you,” he said, dipping a piece of toast into his runny fried egg.
“Me, too.”
He shot out the front door after Lucy insisted she had enough time to spare to clear up the breakfast things. Once he’d left the house, she sensed the loneliness of her confines. She shook off the feeling and jumped in the shower. The warm water did little to prevent her from shuddering.
She dressed and left the house. Kathy was waiting for her on the doorstep.
“Gosh, am I late?”
“No, don’t fret, I’m early. You look dreadful, by the way. Probably not what you wanted to hear first thing, I know.”
“Gee, thanks. Rough evening. I’ll tell you about it once we’re set up for the day. I’m going to need my coffee on tap today, just warning you.”
“Bugger, now you’ve got me intrigued. Spill.”
“All in good time.”
That time came around once the door was open to the public. They had a small flurry of customers filter into the shop first thing, and once they’d left, Kathy turned her chair to face Lucy’s and motioned for her to spill the beans.
Lucy told her about the call she’d received from Trisha on the way home and what the consequences were.
“Shitting hell! Seriously? I’m so bloody sorry, Lucy. Should you be here today? I’m not surprised you look terrible. I wouldn’t have slept a wink if that had happened to my friend.”
“Was that supposed to reassure me or make me feel guiltier than I already feel?”
“Sorry, ignore me. Have you rung the hospital this morning?”
“Not yet, I haven’t had time. I’ll do it now.” She picked up the phone and dialled the ICU and was told that Trisha had had a comfortable night and appeared to be responding well. When she asked if Trisha was out of danger, the nurse told her that wouldn’t be assessed until later that day.
She hung up and exhaled a huge sigh. “I think it sounded good. I’m going to continue to be cautious, though.”
“I don’t blame you.”
The rest of the day appeared to be full-on with enquiries which kept the pair of them busy right up until they closed that evening. She secured the front door and then set off for the hospital. Once she left the car, she searched around her, keeping an eye out for the limping man from the previous day. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen. She made her way up to the ICU and sat close to Trisha, holding her hand and talking to her for the next couple of hours until she dozed off in the chair. A nurse woke her and urged her to go home for the night.
Over the next couple of weeks, that was how her life panned out. Going to work and then straight up to the hospital. Matthew was away most of the time on urgent business, so she hadn’t been accused of neglecting him at all. His mother called her several times, insisting they should meet up to discuss a number of niggles in the wedding plan. Lucy had to be firm and tell her that she couldn’t spare the time, which went down like a bloody lead balloon.
Things remained tense between Cynthia and herself, but she had other things to worry about, like Trisha and her possible road back to recovery. Trisha was transferred to another ward after two weeks; she hadn’t come out of her coma yet, but her vital signs had improved significantly in the past few days to warrant the move. The nurses on the new ward welcomed Lucy’s visits. They had placed Trisha in one of the side wards. She was the only patient, so she wasn’t disturbed.
After work on the Wednesday evening, Lucy arrived and spoke to Trisha. She left her bag beside the bed and nipped out to use the toilet. When she returned, there was a commotion inside the room. She glanced through the slats in the blind at the window and watched the doctor and nurses working on Trisha until one of the nurses closed the blinds.
She of
fered up a silent prayer. “Please, please let her be okay.”
The nurses filed out of the room around fifteen minutes later. The last one to leave gestured for Lucy to enter. The doctor was still checking Trisha over.
“What happened? Did she have a relapse?” Lucy asked breathlessly.
“We’re not sure. She was doing fine. I’m a little perplexed, if I’m honest with you.”
“Is she likely to have another episode? Shouldn’t she be transferred back to ICU?” Lucy went around the other side of the bed, and that was when she spotted the piece of paper sitting on the side table. She chose not to mention it to the doctor. Her gaze was drawn to it every time the doctor looked away from her. She was eager for him to leave.
“I’ll pop in before my shift ends. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Will you be staying long?”
“A few hours, the same as usual.”
“If anything out of the ordinary happens with her breathing, just call the nurse. She can page me, and I’ll come back straight away.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
He left the room.
She reached for the slip of paper and opened it. What she read almost brought her heart crashing to a halt.
SHE’S NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS THE TRUTH
What the fuck? Who left this here? What the hell are they talking about? My past? What I did to Patrick? How would anyone know that? Her legs gave way on her, and she sank into the nearby chair. She reread the note over and over, her hands shaking uncontrollably until she dropped it into her lap, her heart rate erratic and beating fiercely. What could she do? Nothing. She couldn’t confide in Matthew. How could she do that and not expect him to hate her after she’d confessed to him that she’d killed her husband? No one would understand if the truth ever came out. Only Trisha understood the trauma she’d been forced to endure as Jill Maxwell. The thought of someone knowing her real name and the crime she’d committed sent shivers constantly rippling down her spine. A cold sweat developed and broke out on her forehead.
What can I do about this? I should tell the police. Shit! Was she deliberately targeted because of her connection to me?
