by Linda Huber
‘Here. One each,’ she said, taking one tissue for herself and handing the other to the woman.
‘Thanks. It’s a real bugger, isn’t it,’ said the woman. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and Julie nodded.
‘Are you all right?’ Julie asked, indicating the woman’s bump. The baby must be due any time.
The woman caressed her swollen stomach, and for half a second her expression relaxed.‘Oh, we’re fine,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s my poor sister that’s not. She’s in theatre because her madman of a husband practically slashed her foot off, as well as breaking her arm and braining her with something. And he’s taken a baby – God knows what’s going on there.’ She scrubbed her face with the tissue.
Julie’s throat had gone dry. She opened her mouth but no sound came, and she sipped the orange to give her chance to gather her senses. ‘You’re Jeff Horne’s wife’s sister,’ she whispered.
The woman nodded, mopping up more tears. ‘Rosie Glenn. Who are you – do you know anything about all this?’
‘Julie Mayhew,’ said Julie, moving to sit beside Rosie on the sofa. ‘Jeff Horne stabbed my – Max. He’s a policeman. I’m waiting in case he wakes up and needs a friendly face before his folks arrive.’ Two tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over on to her cheeks.‘And it’s my friend Sharon’s baby Jeff’s taken, but I don’t know what’s going on right now either. I left when they brought Max here.’
Rosie held out a hand. Julie took it and they sat in silence for a moment before the other woman spoke again. ‘Is your friend hurt bad?’
Julie nodded. ‘I don’t even know if he’s alive. He’s up in theatre now.’
‘Christ.’ Rosie leaned back and massaged her bump. ‘Well, love, no news is good news. Just hold on to that for the moment.’
Julie sipped her drink again. It was true, if Max died they would come and tell her. The longer no-one came, the more she could hope. She could be strong, couldn’t she? But what, oh what was happening to Jael? Could Sharon still hope too?
‘It’s such a cruel thing to do, taking a baby,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Why did he do it?’
Rosie shrugged. ‘He found out he couldn’t have kids of his own,’ she said, sniffing. ‘But that’s no excuse to take other people’s babies or half-kill your wife. Or stab anyone. He must have gone nuts, and nobody noticed.’
She started to cry helplessly. Julie patted Rosie’s shoulder, suddenly feeling angry. How many lives had Jeff Horne wrecked this week?
Rosie looked up, her face drawn. ‘Is there any way to find out what’s happening with the baby?’ She clutched her own unborn child protectively.
Julie thought. She wanted to know more too, especially if it was good news. But then, if anything at all had happened, Sharon would have got in touch.
‘I could text,’ she said slowly. ‘That wouldn’t be so – so intrusive.’ She pulled out her phone and typed in a quick message. ‘Max in theatre, critical, any news yet?’
She sent the message and replaced her phone in her bag. They sat in silence for a while, then a nurse appeared at the door. Julie’s heart leapt into her throat, but it was Rosie the girl was looking at.
‘Your sister’s settled on a ward now. The surgery appears to have gone well; she should be fine eventually. You can come and see her, but no excitement.’
She patted Julie’s shoulder on the way out. ‘They’re still in theatre,’ she said in a low voice.
Julie nodded. ‘Good luck,’ she said to Rosie.
The other woman smiled grimly. ‘Same to you.’
Silence fell deep and thick when the two women left the room, and Julie rocked back and forwards on the sofa. Max was still in theatre, so he was still alive. And again, there was nothing to do except wait.
Jeff 4.10 p.m.
The pellet gun was heavy in his hand. Funny, how much it weighed. Was it the metal? His hand was shaking too much to shoot at anyone, though, he’d have to rest first. He stumbled over and sank down beside the baby, leaning back in the sofa as an unaccustomed feeling of peace seeped into his head. A short rest and he’d be ready, and it was the right thing for them both. All their worries would be over, and whatever came afterwards couldn’t possibly be as painful or confusing as what was happening now. A release, that’s what it would be; a merciful release.
The new calmness was enticing, and for several moments he sat still, enjoying the sensation. Everything was going to be all right. He was in control again. Maybe he should leave Caro a note for when she came back from the doctor’s? Then the appalled expression on her face the other day slid into his head; he’d opened the door of his and Miriam’s room and there was Caro in the corridor, looking at him as if he was the devil himself. How bloody dare she look at him like that. No, no note for Caro, she would see for herself what had happened. Maybe it wouldn’t even be Caro who found him. The police would be after him now, watching and waiting, thinking they were in control – but they wouldn’t beat him.
Jeff sat up straight, laid the gun on the coffee table and went to the window. The street was deserted, but he could feel the eyes staring at him, taunting him from every direction. Their wait would soon be over.
The baby was grizzling on the sofa and Jeff grimaced. He wouldn’t be sorry to get away from those sleepless nights. He circled his aching shoulders, then stretched his arms and legs before moving across to the kitchen doorway where the eyes wouldn’t see him, collecting the gun on the way and looking around helplessly. It was time. Where should he sit – or should he stand? Did it matter? The baby was yowling in a thin, little voice now; he should do this quickly and put them both out of their misery.
Eyes fixed on the baby, he gripped the gun.
‘Jeff! Can you hear me, Jeff?’
The voice came from outside, but it was speaking to him. Jeff froze, not daring to go back to the window, but after a moment he turned his head and noticed the blue van with the loudspeaker on the roof, parked a few yards down the road.
‘Jeff, my name’s Will and I want to help you. Don’t worry – everything’s going to be all right. I’ll come a little nearer now, so you’ll be able to see me, and then we’ll be able to talk better.’
A figure wearing a bulky black jacket emerged from the blue van and walked slowly towards the house. Jolted into action, Jeff ran to check the front door was locked. It was, and he breathed a sigh of relief. No way was he going to let this Will interfere with his plans, because what he’d said was all lies. Nothing would ever be all right in this world, not for him or Miriam. Which was why they were going to depart for the next world. Together forever.
Moving to the side of the room, Jeff could see out to the street. Will was standing in the middle of the road, opposite the living room window. Jeff screwed his face up, trying to remember how much of the inside Will would be able to see. About four metres of grass separated the house and the pavement, so not everything in here would be visible from outside, surely. An idea struck, and he chuckled, then dropped to his front and commando-crawled across the floor to the front wall, where he gripped the hem of the dark brown curtain and pulled it across the window. And the other side. . . There! Now Mr Smarty-Pants-Will couldn’t see a thing.
It was time. Gun in hand, Jeff stood sideways in the doorway – from here he could see the living room and the kitchen and the hallway and the stairs up to his bedroom. Home. He’d been happy here, once upon a time.
The baby was still on the sofa and for a long moment Jeff stood gazing down on her. She hadn’t been long on this earth. Should he… him or the baby? Or both? If only his hand would stop shaking.
Sharon 4.10 pm
The car was full of thick, sticky silence. Sharon shifted in her seat, feeling the dampness of her cotton top against the backrest. The windows were all open, but there was still no air in here. A hot summer afternoon spent sitting in a police car, in fear of her baby’s life – it couldn’t get much worse. She leaned forward to see the dashboard
clock. It was after four o’clock, hell, how much longer was this going to take? They’d been here for ages.
Anita turned and looked at her and Craig. ‘Okay?’ Her face was neutral in a grim way, and Sharon’s heart began to beat faster again. Anita didn’t know if they would get Jael back safe or not. Sharon could see it in her eyes. She and the DCI were being supportive, but neither was saying, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be all right,’ or any of the other platitudes Sharon was so desperate to hear.
‘They’ll be making a move any time now,’ said the DCI steadily, and Sharon nodded, grateful at least for his honesty.
Craig was motionless in the seat beside Sharon, forearms resting on his thighs and his head drooping low. The set of his shoulders and jaw revealed the tension in his body, and his shirt was sticking to him too. But all they could do was let the experts get on with their job.
A loudspeaker crackled somewhere round the corner and Sharon held her breath. This was it. The start of the negotiations. She listened to Will’s speech, and then silence.
‘He’ll walk to the house now and stand outside where Jeff can see him,’ said Brian. ‘Then he’ll try to get him to talk.’ He lifted his radio and spoke into it. ‘Status?’
The radio crackled. ‘Will’s taking up position in front of the house,’ said a voice. ‘Nothing yet. Shit, Horne is pulling the curtains shut. I don’t like this, Boss.’
Sharon held her breath, and silence resumed in the car, broken only by a vague hiss from Brian’s radio. A wave of faintness broke over her. Jael, baby…
Will’s voice came again. ‘I’m here to help you, Jeff. Let’s talk. We can work this out.’
Brian clicked his radio. ‘Anything?’
Sharon held her breath. Her heart was thumping wildly and her fingers and lips were tingling. You can do this, you’re strong, you’re in charge. Except she had never felt so vulnerable.
‘They’re going in from the back, Boss.’
Sharon’s gut cramped in terror but she pushed the pain away and wrenched the car door open. She had to go to her daughter; she couldn’t–
‘Stay in the car!’ Anita spun round in her seat and grabbed Sharon’s arm.
‘Let them do their job, Sharon,’ said Brian, not looking at her.
Craig pulled her back into the middle of the car and Sharon collapsed against him. This was the worst day, the worst time. Nothing would ever hurt her more than this.
Will was still speaking through his loudspeaker, but there was no way to know if Jeff was listening. Would they hear a shot from here?
More static. ‘They’re in the house, Boss.’
Sharon pushed Craig away and sat straight. An odd kind of stillness came over her, and she felt cold sweat on her back. Any second now…
But minutes passed with nothing but static. Minutes of her baby’s life. Please God her baby still had a life. Will’s loudspeaker voice spoke comforting sentences, and Sharon raged inside. Jeff Horne deserved no comfort.
More crackling. ‘Boss. Horne’s gone–’
Sharon’s breath caught. Gone? What did ‘gone’ mean? Gone where? She was out of the car before she had time to think this time, staggering towards the corner, towards her child.
‘Sharon! Wait!’ Anita’s voice was just behind her.
Brian McKenna grabbed her before she turned the corner. ‘Stop!’ He barked into his radio. ‘Report?’
Sharon stood panting, straining to free her arm, but he wouldn’t let go. Sobs were tearing from her chest, but the urgency in her head wasn’t transmitting itself to her legs now.
‘All secure, Boss.’
Still grasping her arm, Brian strode round the corner, and Sharon forced her legs to move. The two ambulances drove past and stopped in the middle of the road, and the paramedics vanished into a house. Jeff Horne’s house.
Sharon twisted round to see if Craig was following. He was standing beside the car, leaning on the roof, his head low. Sharon turned to look where she was going; he would have to deal with his faintness alone. Her daughter was the important one now. Brian kept her arm in a tight grasp as they stopped beside a wooden garden gate, preventing her from running hell-for-leather into the house.
The front door was open wide, and moan rose in Sharon’s throat as she looked into the hallway and saw the body of a man on the floor, his head covered with a green cloth. And dear God in heaven, was that blood spattered on the wall? Whose blood?
‘My baby,’ said Sharon, but her voice came out so weakly she could scarcely hear it herself.
And then they came. A green-clad paramedic carrying a bundle wrapped in silver foil. A tiny bundle.
‘The baby’s here. Come on, Mum, we have to go.’
It took a moment for his words to sink into the part of her brain that understood speech. The second paramedic took Sharon’s free arm, and Brian let her go. She climbed into the back of the ambulance as the paramedics bent over the bundle, now on the trolley. There was an incubator behind them, too.
And now she could see her child. Sharon gave a cry, her hands hovering over her daughter but not daring to touch. There was dried blood on Jael’s front, and her eyes were closed. She was breathing, but she looked as if she might break.
The paramedic was cutting the pink clothes away. ‘It’s okay – she hasn’t been shot. He only shot himself. This blood isn’t hers, but she’s very shocked and dehydrated. We need to get to hospital quickly.’
‘Will she be all right?’ Sharon was crying now. Her baby was here, at last, at last, but so pale, and she didn’t dare take her child in her arms and comfort her.
‘We’ll do everything we can. We’ll be off as soon as we get this drip up.’
He worked quickly, and Sharon moved to his other side. She stretched out a finger to touch her baby, but oh, how cold the little hand felt.
Craig appeared beside the ambulance. ‘Christ. Is she–?’
‘Shocked and dehydrated,’ said the paramedic briefly. He lifted Jael into the incubator and covered her with the foil.
The second paramedic jumped down beside Craig. ‘You can come in the front, sir.’
Two minutes later they were off, Sharon strapped in a seat where she couldn’t touch her daughter.
‘She’s breathing just fine,’ said the paramedic as the siren started wailing and the ambulance picked up speed.
Sharon nodded. Her baby was alive, but no one was saying she was going to stay that way.
Julie 5.15 p.m.
‘Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, coffee?’
Julie shook her head. All she wanted was for someone to come and tell her that Max was out of danger. It was after five now, surely news would come soon? He’d been here for ages; they must know something.
Dee gave her shoulder a shake. ‘I think you should, lovey. You didn’t have any lunch, and you don’t want to turn all weak and faint, do you? I’ll get you something hot and you can try a few sips.’
Julie shrugged, then nodded. Dee was doing a fantastic job taking care of her, the least she could do was be cooperative about a cup of tea. ‘Why didn’t I just go out with him like a normal person, Dee? Why didn’t I see how much he could mean to me before it was too late?’
Dee sat down again and put an arm round her. ‘It was too much, too soon for you, wasn’t it? I’m sure Max understood that. Please God you’ll get another chance.’
Julie closed her eyes, picturing Max’s face as he was wheeled away from her. ‘He’s really bad, Dee,’ she said, her voice breaking.
Dee hugged her again. ‘Just – hold on. Don’t imagine the worst before it happens. Now let me get that tea.’
She went out into the main A&E area and Julie stood up rubbing her back. If Max made it, she would grab that second chance with both hands. There was nothing like a real horror scenario to show you what was important in your life and–
‘Julie! Sharon and Craig Morrison are here and they’ve got the baby. I don’t know if she’s hurt.’ Dee was standi
ng in the doorway, her eyes bright with tears.
Julie leapt to her feet, but her legs gave way beneath her and she crouched on the floor. Dee rushed to her side and held her shaking body. For a moment, all Julie could do was sob on Dee’s shoulder. The older woman patted her back, making no effort to stop the tears.
The A&E sister came in the open door, a mug of tea in each hand. She set the drinks on the table and put a firm hand under Julie’s elbow.
‘Come on, Mrs Mayhew – Julie. Sit down and drink this. They’re examining the baby now, and then Mrs Morrison wants to see you. Drink your tea and calm down; you can’t go anywhere like this. I’ll go and find out for you how they’re getting on up in theatre.’
Julie allowed herself to be settled back on her chair. She sipped the tea, which was stewed and sweet and disgusting, but it helped.
Ten minutes later the door opened again. Julie’s heart began to race as the A&E sister sat down beside her. Was this the bad news? The sister took her hand and held it tightly.
‘Julie, Max is out of theatre now. He’s heavily sedated in ITU and I’m afraid you can’t visit him tonight, but you can go up and see him through the window. He’s critical but stable and the operation went well. He’ll be in ITU until he can breathe himself again. Finish your tea, and someone will take you to see the Morrisons, and then on upstairs.’ She patted Julie’s shoulder and left.
Julie sat motionless, quite unable to speak. Max was alive. ‘Critical but stable’. A piece of real hope.
A young nurse appeared a few minutes later to take them to where Jael was being treated.
Julie, her arm tucked firmly through Dee’s, followed the nurse through the waiting area to a doorway with ‘Paediatric Trauma’ above it, the sign supported by Micky Mouse on one side and Donald Duck on the other.
The nurse held the door open. ‘In you go, Julie. I’ll come back in ten minutes and take you upstairs.’
‘I’ll wait for you here,’ said Dee, sitting down on a wide window ledge in the corridor.
