by Melissa Hill
Mercifully, her friend answered on the second ring. “Lucy, I just spoke to Carol McDaid, who said something about little Rosie taking a bad turn at the hospital. What’s going on?”
Her friend sounded shaken. “That’s right, I’m afraid. I was there when it happened. The poor thing started going into convulsions and got so serious she nearly had to be resuscitated. Poor Kate had gone home for a rest at the time...”
Oh, my God. Poor, poor Kate. “So how is she now? What’s happening? Carol said she was in a coma... Is there anything I can do, does Kate need—”
Her friend exhaled hard. “Well, the poor thing is in a state, understandably, and worried sick about what’s going to happen next. They’ve diagnosed Rosie with viral encephalitis. She still hasn’t fully recovered from the pneumonia, so, at the moment, she’s on a ventilator and some drugs to try to bring down the swelling on her brain and stop the convulsions, but it’s very touch and go...” She paused, sounding shaken. “It was horrific, Madeleine; I really thought she was going to die and poor Kate did, too. The doctors had to induce the coma to try to prevent serious damage to her brain, apparently... I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken properly to Kate since Friday. But it’s a horrible situation and naturally she’s all over the place.”
“I don’t believe it. All this from measles? A coma?”
“Well, from the encephalitis, really. The doctor said it’s an extension of the virus, which attacks brain tissue. But it seems everything stemmed from the original infection, yes...”
Her words trailed off and there followed a prolonged silence, during which Madeleine was sure she could feel reprobation coming down the line.
“What can I do? How can I help? I tried to phone Kate but she’s not picking up and—”
“Madeleine, there’s nothing you can do, nothing any of us can do—not now anyway. But I’m sorry to say this and really hate doing so, but you really, really shouldn’t have sent Clara to school that day.”
Madeleine wanted to cry with guilt. While she already felt bad enough and had since being on the receiving end of a few different forms of recrimination, now hearing it from her best friend, her closest ally...was like a shot to the heart.
But how could she even think about defending herself when a little girl was fighting for her life?
“I know, but...but I couldn’t have known, Luce. I had no idea that something like this would happen, and Clara got through it fine...”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m upset, too, for Rosie—and for Kate. Honestly, my heart was breaking to see her being dragged out of the ICU while they tried to stabilize Rosie. It’s horrific...such a nightmare for any parent. And of course I know that you never meant any harm. But, Maddie, you must also know people aren’t happy and already they’re starting to point the finger.”
Madeleine knew that much; she’d experienced it just now with Carol McDaid. Tom’s mother had also mentioned similar murmurings the other night, but at the time Madeleine had brushed Harriet’s concerns away.
And thinking back on her correspondence with Julie Wells the other day about the book club: Probably best to leave it...
She’d been too stupid at the time to realize the other woman was giving her the brush-off.
Oh, God, what have I done...?
She could fix this, Madeleine decided. She would talk to Kate, do whatever it took, ensure that Rosie got the best possible care. She didn’t know if the O’Haras had health insurance but it didn’t matter, Tom would know who to talk to at the hospital, or if not, he’d get in touch with someone who would.
“Where is Kate now?” she asked Lucy.
“At the hospital, I’d imagine. Although no, she did say something about getting her car back this morning. It broke down the other day—that’s why she wasn’t back at the hospital when Rosie’s convulsions started. To be honest, I’m kind of glad she wasn’t. Truly, Maddie, I’m not quite right myself after it. After staying in the ICU all night with her, I went straight home and hugged the life out of my own two. That kind of terror, no parent should ever have to go through it.”
Madeleine bit her lip. “The poor thing. So you think she might be at home now? Or in town at least?”
“I think so. But, sweetheart, I really don’t think—”
For the second time that day and possibly in her entire life, Madeleine hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
She jumped straight into the Audi and was on the other side of Knockroe within minutes, speeding on the windy country roads the whole way. Screw it, this wasn’t the time for stupid rules and regulations, not if she wanted to catch Rosie’s mum before she traveled back to the hospital.
She was only a few yards from the entrance to Kate’s driveway, when she spied a yellow Beetle pass by on the other side—Christine Campbell’s unmistakable Volkswagen. And she couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn Kate O’Hara was sitting in the passenger side.
Did Christine know Kate, and if so, how?
Madeleine wasn’t sure why, but all at once she felt a heavy, leaden knot form in the pit of her stomach.
17
Christine chattered away while I was only half listening.
She kept saying, “You’re doing the right thing, seriously. And Declan is brilliant. He’ll be perfect for this, believe me.”
In the wake of my nightmarish weekend, Christine had jumped all over my split-second concession to her idea of seeking redress from the Coopers. But my initial urge for revenge on Friday morning in the wake of Rosie’s trauma was by now already fading, and doubt was creeping in.
Which was why Christine was determined to have me pay a visit to her cousin at his office first thing this morning, before dropping me off at Nolan’s garage to pick up my car. She wasn’t going to give me any time to talk myself out of this.
And I started to wonder, as I sat quietly in the car, if this was Christine’s cross to bear or mine.
Thankfully (I think), I didn’t have too much time to ponder that line of inquiry because before I knew it we were pulling into a small row of offices in Glencree.
Christine’s cousin worked in the same town as I did? The way she’d talked about him, I’d assumed he was with some big-shot Dublin solicitor’s practice.
And I wasn’t sure if this made me feel more worried or at ease.
“OK, Kate. Here we are,” she cooed, as if she was trying to wake a baby out of a peaceful slumber. I looked at her with cautious eyes and realized my stomach felt tied in knots. Was I really going to do this?
“I thought you said you didn’t make an appointment. What if your cousin isn’t here this morning? Or busy or something?” I secretly hoped that maybe the guy had decided to go off on holiday. To the moon, even.
Christine waved this objection away as she climbed out of the car. “He’ll have time for us. Don’t worry about that.”
I grimaced. I wasn’t worried—it was actually just a secret hope. I had a feeling that I already had taken this too far.
Getting out of the car, I glanced around, feeling as if I was doing something wrong or dirty, even. What if someone from Knockroe, or work, saw me going into a solicitor’s office? It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together and come up with a conclusion.
Somebody’s getting sued.
And word traveled fast in these parts, where everyone seemed to know everyone, even in neighboring towns.
I pulled my jacket up around my neck as if trying to fold into myself. My hand fished around in my bag for a pair of sunglasses and, when I found them, I pushed them onto my face without hesitation.
“Are you coming?” Christine called to me. It was then that I realized that I had been glued to one spot—my feet felt like they were encased in lead. I wondered if my expression was giving away my hesitation. Did I loo
k like a deer caught in the headlights?
“Right. Yes. Coming,” I mumbled in response as I willed myself forward, one foot at a time. My heart was racing.
Calm down. You haven’t committed to anything. You are just here to talk. Explore options. That’s all. Just an introduction and a quick chat with Christine’s cousin and then she’ll take you back to the hospital to Rosie.
Thinking of my daughter and picturing her little face swallowed up by the ventilator mask finally gave me the same sense of resolution I’d felt after that horrific night in ICU, and I felt my breathing begin to even itself out as I followed Christine along the row of businesses dotting the small cul-de-sac in which we were parked.
Rosie. You’re here because of Rosie. This is all for Rosie.
Ahead of me, I saw Christine throw open the door of one of the offices and disappear inside. She didn’t even wait for me to follow her.
A beat later, I pulled the same door open and made my way through the entrance. But I heard Christine already engaged in conversation with a man, who was answering her with contemplative muttering. I noticed right away he had a nice voice. It was the same steady type of timbre that George Clooney had, comforting—a voice you could trust.
I wondered how successful this guy was in a courtroom with a voice like that. Pretty good, I’d be willing to bet. But then I remembered that it was barristers, not solicitors, who argued in the court system in Ireland, so the point was moot.
“Kate. I’d like you to meet my cousin Declan.” Christine smiled.
Declan turned and offered his hand and I immediately felt blindsided. For some reason, I’d assumed her solicitor cousin would be older—a gray or balding fiftysomething in dusty old tweeds.
“Hello, Kate, lovely to meet you. I’m Declan Roe.”
But this guy looked to be a couple of years younger than both of us. He had nice teeth, a dimpled chin, chiseled cheekbones, luscious dark hair and uncomfortably arresting blue eyes.
In fact, he was a dead ringer for the guy who played Superman in the movie Rosie and I had watched over Easter and, as I went to shake his hand, I wondered if a small part of my mind was stupidly projecting.
Declan’s polite smile faded just a little bit then. Probably because I was staring at him the same way people stared at monkeys in a zoo. Or maybe I was the monkey in this situation. All I know is that I needed to start talking, or else the guy was going to think that his sister had suggested a complete basket case for a client.
Which of course I was, but in a different way.
“Hello.” Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and made a conscious effort to compose myself and act like a normal human being.
“So,” he said, without further preamble. “I believe there’s a legal matter you wanted to have a chat about?” He glanced between the two of us as if to confirm, and I was surprised to notice some hesitation in his tone and body language.
I thought Christine said her cousin was chomping at the bit to talk to me about a potential action against the Coopers? So why did he look uncomfortable?
All at once, I realized that she’d used her powers of persuasion on us both and Declan was as unsure about this as I was.
It was a relief, to be honest. If Christine’s cousin had agreed to talk to me out of mere courtesy, hopefully, he would be quick to explain the folly of even attempting to mount any action on Rosie’s behalf and outline the various reasons from a legal point of view as to why such a case would not hold.
At least that might get Christine off my back.
18
I was right. The moment I sat down across from Declan’s desk, Christine started talking.
And continued talking. About how adamant the Coopers had always been about not vaccinating their kids, how irresponsible they were for taking them out of school to go on holiday, how Madeleine had always looked down on the other mums in Knockroe, believing herself to be superior, and now with her newfound TV fame was lording it over everyone even more...
I don’t think I’d realized until then just how deep the negativity Christine seemed to harbor toward the Coopers—or Madeleine, at least—was, and I couldn’t help but wonder if all this truly was about helping me.
My discomfort must have started to become apparent, because Declan looked at me earnestly from across the table and then spoke to his cousin. “Christine, would you mind going out front for a bit so I can talk alone with Kate?”
At first, she looked put out to be excluded from something that she needed to be involved in. But, truth be told, she was making me feel really overwhelmed, and I needed some distance from her. Especially if I was ever going to make a logical, well-informed decision about this situation.
Declan obviously sensed this. “I’ll need to talk with her about some issues that are privileged,” he added simply.
I appreciated the angle, and Christine fell for it, though of course no contract or agreement had been signed or even mentioned. So there was nothing that fell under client privilege. However, I was happy to let him run with the ruse if it meant I got a few moments’ headspace.
“Oh, right, of course,” she mumbled. “I’ll just wait out in reception. Take your time, Kate.”
She got up from where she sat and exited the room, delicately closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with Declan.
“So,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “My cousin can be a bit...much.”
I smiled, relaxing a little. It felt good, and I hadn’t realized just how tense I’d been since all of this had happened. It felt like forever since smiling had come naturally to me.
“Christine explained a little about the situation with your daughter. How is she?”
I knew he was only being polite, but he sounded so unexpectedly concerned that I was a little taken aback. And became once again overcome with emotion as I thought of my little girl.
“We don’t really know yet, to be honest. I’m not sure what Christine has told you but...”
“Tell you what, Kate, why don’t you tell me everything how you see it. I’ll be honest with you; I don’t actually know any of the specifics, other than what’s been filtered through Christine. And I think we both know she’s not exactly impartial.” He smiled, once again putting me at ease. “And just in case she’s given you the impression that we’ve been discussing you at length behind your back, that isn’t the case, either. She suggested something ‘theoretically’ to me over lunch with the family one Sunday and I gave her a broad-stroke legal opinion without knowing any particulars. Then she phones me yesterday telling me she wants to bring you in today. To be truthful, I’m probably just as overwhelmed as you are.”
“Oh.” His honesty and candor disarmed me and I felt a little better about the fact that Christine had not been completely forthcoming with either of us.
Then Declan opened a legal pad and picked up a pen. As he did so, it struck me how huge his hands were, and how it seemed like he’d be more at ease outdoors on a farm than in a tiny one-windowed office. Then again, Christine had mentioned that this was a family firm, so perhaps he’d followed in his father’s footsteps?
“I have to be honest, too. I’m not entirely sure what I am doing here at all,” I admitted. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. And this...kind of thing isn’t really my style.”
Declan nodded as he considered what I had just said. “Have you discussed this with your husband?” I saw him glance briefly at my left hand to my wedding ring. Evidently the fact that I was a widow didn’t come up when Christine was giving her cousin the rundown on my situation over dinner.
I cleared my throat. “I’m a widow. My husband passed away almost two years ago.”
I felt suddenly and inexplicably guilty then and tried to figure out why. Was it because I was verbalizing my relationship status to another
man for the first time in ages? Or was it because I knew the very idea of legal action was something Greg would never have approved of if he were still here—in fact he would have been horrified.
My face must have shown my discomfort because Declan cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t have known if Christine didn’t mention it. I suppose that’s one of the reasons she wants me to consider this. I’m kind of up shit creek at the moment. I’m on unpaid leave, have a mountain of bills to pay and have no idea how bad my daughter’s condition will get.”
With that—the mere act of verbalizing the reality of the direction my life had taken—my voice broke and, much to my utter horror, I burst into tears.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I sniffed, feeling like an idiot for breaking down in front of a complete stranger. Talk about time and place...
But once more Declan seemed to know exactly the right thing to say.
“Tell you what,” he said, when I’d once again managed to compose myself, “why don’t you start from the very beginning, and tell me everything...”
* * *
When I’d finished, I watched as Declan tapped his pen on the pad of yellow paper in which he had been taking notes.
“I’m so sorry, Kate, it sounds like you’ve had a truly horrific time of it. How’s your little girl now? What’s the prognosis?”
I looked away. “That’s the issue. We don’t actually know—not until her brain activity has stabilized and they can assess any damage. In the early hours of Friday morning, they induced the coma to stop the convulsions, and she’s been under for three days now. They’re monitoring her in the meantime, but until they start weaning her off the coma drugs or she comes out of it herself, they don’t know whether the seizures will return. If they do, or she stays under too long, there might be...brain damage.” I put a hand over my mouth almost involuntarily, as if to stop those horrifically distressing words falling from my lips.
