by Lucy Diamond
‘Can I help you?’ His voice was just how she remembered: brisk and dry, with only the faintest trace of the Norwegian fjords beneath, hinting at snow and ice and wolves. That voice had once whispered the dirtiest of things into her ear, had been low and witty and suggestive. She felt a stirring in her knickers at hearing it again. But he hadn’t recognized her.
She gulped, as if she’d been caught stealing. ‘I … I was looking for … for Dr Khan,’ she lied with atrocious fluency. ‘I … Hey. Wait. Have we met before?’
God, this was awful. She was fake and wooden and completely unconvincing. This was not at all the scene she’d envisaged.
He paused and frowned, and she was just about to gabble an apology and sprint away, when his face cleared.
‘Good Lord,’ he said. ‘It’s you. It’s you, isn’t it, ah …’ He struggled to remember her name, gaping helplessly.
‘Emma,’ she said. ‘Oh, my goodness. Nicholas. I mean … Mr Larsson.’
‘Dr Larsson now,’ he said, the pride unmistakable. His eyes were steady on hers, blue slivers of ice. Amused blue slivers, she noted, as if he too was now recalling their rumpled encounters upstairs in his office with a certain fondness. ‘Well, well, well. And you’re here to see Dr Khan, are you?’
‘Uh … Yes. He wanted to talk to me about … some business,’ she blustered haltingly.
The ice chips narrowed, his mouth twisted. ‘Ah. Unfortunately she’s abroad for a week, I believe. It’s the Easter vacation here now.’
She. V. Khan was a she. Own-goal to Emma. ‘We haven’t actually met, just been in contact via email,’ she lied, feeling a blush creep through her skin. ‘Not to worry, though, it can wait. I’ll …’ She shrugged, not wanting the conversation to end so soon. She hadn’t managed to steer things round to reminiscing and good times yet.
‘Listen,’ he interrupted, not seeming to hear her ramblings. He touched her arm and her breath caught in her throat. ‘Why don’t we get a coffee?’
History seemed to be peeling back as, minutes later, Emma trotted across campus beside him. Well, well, well. Haven’t we been here before?
A chill went through her, even though it was a bright, clear spring day. Flowers were blooming, the trees were in leaf. It was the season of fertility, after all.
‘How funny to be here with you again, after so long,’ she found herself saying demurely as she slipped off her jacket in the coffee bar. She knew all about men like Larsson. He had never been able to say no.
Chapter Twenty
Izzy was in the darkest place she’d ever been. Despite the numbing bliss of the morphine and whatever other drugs they were sticking in her, despite the kind attentiveness of the nursing staff and the novelty of being looked after by somebody (a whole team of somebodys), she ached all over, inside and out. Gary was dead. She would never see him again. He had scared her and hurt her, but there was a part of her, just the tiniest shard, that still loved him for the Gary he’d once been, the one person who’d really understood her, the father of her children. She couldn’t believe he was gone, just like that, in a single, final heartbeat.
‘Can you give us a contact number for his family, love?’ the police officer asked when he came in to question her.
She had to shake her head. ‘He doesn’t have any family,’ she replied dully. ‘Only me and the girls.’ A funeral would need to be organized, she realized, friends told, official paperwork dealt with, only she didn’t have the energy to think about any of that right now.
Telling the girls was the worst ordeal of her life. Their little faces as they appeared in the ward – cowed and anxious, holding tightly to Alicia’s hands … that alone was enough to rip her heart in two. They deserved better than this. Better parents, a better life full stop. She’d messed everything up, just like she always knew she would.
‘Hey!’ she said softly as Willow burst free from Alicia and ran over to her, burying her dark head in Izzy’s chest. ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Oh, I missed you. Are you okay?’
‘Mummy, what happened?’ Willow asked. ‘When will you be better?’
Hazel was there too in the next second, looking uncharacteristically worried. ‘Mummy, are you very, very poorly?’ she asked, shifting from foot to foot, eyes huge and round.
Alicia pulled the curtains around Izzy’s bed for some privacy, then mouthed that she’d leave them to it and made a discreet exit.
Izzy patted the side of the bed and they both scrambled up to sit beside her. ‘Well, I had an operation on my leg this morning, but it’s going to take a while to heal up. Maybe a few months.’
‘You’re going to be in hospital for a few months?’ Willow wailed instantly.
‘No! Hopefully I’ll be out tomorrow but they want to keep me in today because I bumped my head in the accident. They need to make sure nothing’s wrong. Check I’ve still got a brain in there, you know. Then I’ll be out, only I’ll have to walk with crutches, while my leg’s mending.’
‘And will we go home then?’ Hazel asked.
Izzy took a deep breath. ‘Not straight away, no,’ she admitted. ‘Not back to our flat. I don’t think I’d be able to go up and down the stairs very fast with crutches, do you?’ She was doing her best to sound upbeat, as if this was merely the latest episode in a marvellous adventure they were all having, but both girls looked anxious. ‘We’ll find somewhere different,’ she went on quickly. ‘Alicia’s said we can stay with them first of all, then we’ll go somewhere else, just us three.’
She felt tired having to think about such practicalities. The nurses had been unanimous in saying she needed looking after for a while, that she couldn’t be expected to manage single-handedly straight away. Going home was not an option. However wonderful Alicia was being, for the first time in ages Izzy had found herself wishing that she had a mum to lean on.
‘Does that sound okay?’ she asked when neither girl reacted. ‘Has it been all right staying there with Matilda?’
Willow nodded. ‘Alicia’s really nice.’
‘The house is massive,’ Hazel whispered, then perked up a fraction. ‘And they’ve got a Wii. I’m really good at Mario Kart now, you know.’
‘Good,’ said Izzy, stroking her hair fondly. ‘That’s great news.’
‘Matilda was pleased too,’ Willow said. ‘She didn’t want her mummy to go to Paris anyway, she told me.’
Izzy did a double-take, the words spiking into her like darts. ‘She didn’t – oh no. Was Alicia meant to go to Paris? This weekend?’
‘Yes,’ Hazel replied, shrugging. ‘But she said we were more important.’
‘Oh God,’ Izzy croaked. Not only had she called in the most enormous favour from this woman she barely knew, but in doing so she’d wrecked her special birthday treat. Izzy had never seen Alicia so bright-eyed and excited as when she’d told her about the trip, the other week in the pub. How could she have forgotten?
Hazel leaned against Izzy’s legs, her long hair fanning across the sheet. ‘Has Daddy been to see you again?’ she asked.
Izzy stiffened. Here we go. ‘Er …’ she began. She was still spacey from the anaesthetic and hadn’t slept at all well the night before. Could she seriously do this conversation now? She paused, her mind churning through the pros and cons. It was tempting, frankly, to take the coward’s way out and palm Hazel off with a simple ‘no’, or even lie, make up some story about how he’d gone away and wouldn’t be coming back … It wasn’t all that far from the truth, really, was it?
But no. She couldn’t lie to them.
‘Actually, there’s something I need to tell you about Daddy,’ she said. She took Willow’s hand and held it tightly. ‘When I was in the car crash, it was Daddy who was driving. And I’m really sorry to say that … he was badly hurt too.’
‘Is he in the hospital as well?’ Willow asked, sitting very still.
‘No, love.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m afraid to say that Daddy … Daddy died in the car crash. He’s …’ Oh God. H
ow should she do this in a way that wouldn’t completely crush their little worlds? ‘He’s … up in heaven with the angels now.’
There was a moment of shocked silence before Hazel erupted into an absolute frenzy of weeping, clutching at Izzy’s legs. ‘I want Daddy back!’ she screamed. ‘I want him BACK!’
Tears spilled down Willow’s face. She had gone completely white. ‘Is it true, Mummy? He’s really dead?’
Izzy nodded, trying to enfold them both to her. ‘I’m so sorry, chicken. I know how much you loved him. It’s really, really sad.’
‘I never got to say goodbye,’ Hazel railed, rearing up, eyes glittering. ‘And you never even let him into our house, Mummy. Why didn’t you let him in?’
The guilt was unbearable. ‘I was cross with him,’ Izzy managed to say. ‘I thought he might hurt us.’
‘Daddy would never hurt me,’ Hazel cried hotly, wrenching herself out of Izzy’s arms. ‘He wanted to take us for pizza!’
‘Darling—’ Izzy tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.
‘You’re wrong. Daddy’s not dead. You’re WRONG!’
‘Hazel …’ But she’d already scrambled off the bed, fighting through the curtains with a choking cry, before vanishing from sight.
‘I’ll go after her,’ Willow said, and disappeared.
Izzy could hardly breathe with anguish, just gripped the bed sheet helplessly, wishing she could run after Hazel too, catch her in a huge hug, hold her and hold her, assure her that everything would be okay, that Mummy was here and would never leave …
But instead, she was stuck in this stupid bed, with her stupid leg, and couldn’t do anything other than wait. She wanted to scream with frustration. She wished she’d lied now, wished she hadn’t bludgeoned them with the terrible truth. As if they didn’t have enough to cope with right now, what with her being trapped in hospital and them uprooted from home. What had she been thinking?
The longest minute in the history of all time ticked slowly around and neither girl returned. Izzy was becoming deranged with agitation. Where were they? Her mind raced with frightening images: Hazel bursting through the hospital and outside, into the road. Hazel falling over, hurting herself, becoming lost. Willow searching for her, tears pouring down her little face …
‘Nurse?’ she called out wildly, her heart thundering. ‘Is anybody there?’
Nobody came. It was no good, she couldn’t wait a second longer. She had to go looking for them, broken leg or not.
Gritting her teeth and ignoring all the doctor’s instructions about keeping immobile, she gingerly tried to lever her foot off the bed … then yelped with the sudden roaring agony of her injury.
‘What are you doing?’ exclaimed a nurse, rushing in and just preventing Izzy from toppling onto the floor.
‘I’m sorry, I …’ gabbled Izzy, then heard the sound of voices: Alicia and the girls, thank God. She leaned back against the pillows, limp with relief, no longer caring about the throbbing, angry pains shooting through her leg. ‘Oh, girls,’ she cried, as they returned through the curtains, Hazel red-faced and wild-eyed, Willow looking wobbly with shock. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry I had to tell you, I wish it wasn’t true.’
‘I think that’s perhaps enough excitement for today,’ the nurse said briskly, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced from Izzy’s tear-streaked face to her daughters. ‘For everyone.’
‘They’ll be fine with me,’ Alicia assured Izzy. ‘Girls, let’s go back and have some tea, shall we? We’ll come and see Mummy again tomorrow.’
Izzy reached out for a cuddle, but only Willow came and let herself be hugged. She wept into Izzy’s shoulder and her body shook with emotion. ‘It’ll be all right,’ Izzy murmured, stroking her hair. ‘You won’t feel like this forever.’
‘I don’t want him to be dead,’ Willow sobbed.
‘I know, love. I don’t either. We’ll do something extra-special to remember him when I’m out of here,’ she said desperately. ‘Something lovely, like – we’ll plant a tree, or we’ll make a beautiful memory book or …’
Willow nodded. ‘But, Mum, part of me is really sad, but part of me is—’ She broke off into fresh sobs, not able to finish her sentence.
Izzy held her close, completely understanding her confusion. ‘Me too,’ she said, choking on the words. ‘Me too. But we’ll just remember the good bits, yeah? We’ll remember all the happy times.’
Hazel would not be hugged. She held herself defiantly, not even looking at Izzy. It was obvious who she blamed for Gary’s death.
Alicia leaned over and gave Izzy a kiss. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll look after her.’
‘Thanks,’ Izzy replied dully, but oh, how it hurt to see her girls walk away, so distressed, with her unable to follow. It went against every maternal instinct, staying put when all she wanted was to comfort them, to make everything better.
It was only after they’d gone that she remembered what Willow had said about Alicia’s aborted trip to Paris. She hadn’t even apologized for ruining her plans.
I’ll make it up to her, she vowed fiercely. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to her, and the girls. I’ll put everything straight once I’m out of here.
Izzy fell into an uneasy doze, drifting from one troubled dream to another. The nurses were monitoring her hourly, shining lights into her eyes and checking her temperature and blood pressure in case of any complications arising from the bump on her head. She woke with a jerk to find Charlie Jones sitting next to her bed, and blinked groggily, wondering if this was still part of the dream. Then he spoke.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
She struggled to a sitting position. ‘Well, I’ve been better.’
‘What a fucking nightmare,’ he said, his eyes soft. ‘I can’t imagine—’ He broke off, shaking his head.
I can’t imagine what it’s like being such a screw-up. Tears welled in her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and she dashed them away defensively. ‘It’s okay,’ she said.
This was patently untrue, but he was kind enough not to argue. ‘So, do I get to write rude messages on your plaster then?’ he asked, indicating her enormous white cast. He winked. ‘I could really embarrass you, couldn’t I? Shock the doctors and nurses with some choice language, get them all talking about you behind your back. Have you SEEN what’s written on her cast? Seemed such a nice girl, as well.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d better just point out that I could probably kick really hard, now I’ve got this thing on,’ she replied. ‘And a dancer’s kick …’ She took a sharp intake of breath and shook her head. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to experience one of those.’
He grinned, the dimple flashing in his cheek. ‘Ah, then I’ll just have to find a spot where you won’t actually be able to read what I put, where only the doctors will be able to see it.’ He fished in a battered rucksack and withdrew a pen, then pretended to write with it in mid-air. ‘Izzy smells …’
She laughed, a proper gurgling laugh. It was the first real laugh she’d had in days. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned, grabbing one of the satsumas that Alicia had brought in for her. ‘I have missiles and I’m not afraid to use them.’
He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Whoa!’ he yelped, feigning alarm. ‘Now you’re frightening me.’ He leaned back in the plastic chair and put his arms behind his head, as if sunning himself on a beach. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Do you come here often?’
‘Oh, shut up, Charlie.’
‘Because, I’ve got to say, you are looking hot in that nightie.’
‘Really.’ She struggled to suppress a smile. Alicia’s nightie was not exactly her style, it had to be said. It was on the voluminous side, and rather tired, with loose threads hanging from the sleeves and bobbly fabric where it had been washed so many times. Still, it was way better than the hospital gown they’d first put her in at least.
‘You know it, girlfriend. Winceyette is so this
season. And—’
‘Winceyette? Where did you get that from?’
‘Alicia, at a guess.’
She pulled a face. ‘I’ll winceyette you in a minute,’ she warned. ‘And don’t you dare be mean about Alicia.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Or her nightwear.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of that, either. Seriously. It’d be a scary dream. More like a nightmare.’
‘Shut up, Charlie.’
‘Although she does make a bloody good pie, Alicia, I’ll give her that,’ he said, as if pie-making was the most important criterion when judging a person’s worth. ‘Her pastry’s better than her choice of nightwear, that’s for sure.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten that spaghetti bolognese you made me the other week. No need for jealousy, all right?’
Izzy shut her eyes briefly. Charlie was exhausting. ‘Well, she’s a total goddess as far as I’m concerned,’ she replied after a moment. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what I’d have done without her the last few days. I’ve got no one else.’
‘You’ve got me,’ he offered.
‘Thanks,’ she replied after a moment, trying not to sound too doubtful.
He laughed. ‘Really. I know you might think I’m a flake or, I don’t know, a loser.’
‘I don’t,’ she said, even though this wasn’t strictly accurate.
‘And you’ve probably heard all sorts of stories about me being a failure or an idiot, or someone who’s never been able to commit to anyone else.’
‘Yeah, loads. It’s all anyone can talk about.’
‘Well, I’m afraid it’s all true,’ he said, wrinkling his nose. ‘I’ve been a bit of a twat, if I’m honest, lost the plot a few times, been skint, been in trouble, been called all the names under the sun by various women.’
‘You’re really selling yourself to me.’
‘But I’m not a bad person,’ he went on earnestly. ‘I’m a good friend. I’m loyal, and if I say I’m going to help, I won’t let you down.’
‘Really.’ She couldn’t even be bothered to make it a question.
