The London Project (Portal Book 1)

by Mark J Maxwell

  Jess is in hospital.

  It hit her like a body blow. All thoughts of Claire’s case dissolved in a rush of worry and grief that suffused every particle of her being. Louisa abruptly got up and left, terrified she’d descend into a sobbing wreck if she uttered another word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  By the time the taxi capsule arrived at King’s College Hospital Louisa was beside herself with worry. Her profile had been flooded by missed call notifications and personal messages the moment she activated her spare terminal. The hospital wanted her to contact them urgently. John had left her a voice message. Jess had been admitted, but he didn’t say what was wrong. When her return call went unanswered Louisa sent him a message saying she was on her way.

  The receptionist looked up cheerfully as Louisa approached the desk. She flicked across her Portal ID. ‘I’m here to see Jessica Bennett.’ Louisa’s voice croaked and she cleared her throat. ‘I’m her mother.’

  ‘Just a sec.’ The woman checked the screen in front of her. ‘She’s in Daisy Ward.’

  ‘Daisy Ward?’

  ‘It’s the name of our juvenile ward. Someone will meet you in the ward’s waiting room and bring you through. I’ve added the route to your profile. The guide light will take you there.’

  Louisa frowned in confusion. For some reason she was finding it hard to concentrate on what the receptionist was saying. ‘Guide light?’

  The woman leaned over the desk and pointed at the ground. A circle of light a few feet in diameter had appeared beside her. She stepped towards it and the circle moved off around the desk and down a corridor. Louisa hurried after it.

  After a few twists and turns she entered a section of the hospital decorated in bright colourful hues. One wall had a collage of cartoon animals stencilled along its length. In a jungle scene a hippo frolicked in a river while a monkey swung from a vine. They smiled down gleefully at Louisa as she passed by. The happy scene did little to alleviate the stress tearing at her insides. Maybe the younger children appreciated the cartoon, but to Louisa it seemed out of place, even wrong, somehow.

  The light terminated outside a door marked ‘Parents’ Waiting Room 1’. She opened the door and stopped at the threshold. It was cramped inside, with barely enough space for three chairs and a small coffee table. There was a box of tissues on the table.

  Louisa didn’t want to go in. It was the ‘bad news room’—where they told you how sick your child was. It was well out of the way so you didn’t upset any of the other parents or children when you lost it and started shouting and crying. She had a horrible feeling a doctor was going to come in and tell her Jess was dead.

  She took out her terminal, wanting to call John again, but filled with dread as to what he might say. Part of her didn’t want to know what had happened. Until she knew all the details she could pretend to herself it wasn’t as serious as it surely must be.

  Her hip was complaining again. Louisa had managed to forget about it for a while but now the thrum-thrum was back with a vengeance, beating in time with her pulse. The discomfort cut through her trepidation and drove her into the room. She sat, closing her eyes in relief. She tried to keep her mind clear, knowing if she thought about Jess her imagination would fill in the gaps. She succeeded up to a point, and then she was left with the sound of her own breathing. In and out, in, out, louder and louder, every breath increasing the tension, more and more, until she felt she felt as though her head might implode with the pressure of not thinking about Jess.

  The click of the door opening startled her. A man had entered the room. He was in his mid-forties and wearing a white doctor’s coat. A cartoon tie peeked out from underneath. On it a dog was chasing a cat around a tree. A bright green stethoscope hung around his neck completed the child-friendly ensemble. He has a kind face. Too kind to be giving out bad news, surely.

  ‘Mrs Bennett, I’m Doctor Lane.’ He sat opposite her. ‘I’ve been looking after Jess since she was admitted this morning.’

  ‘Is she all right?’ Louisa’s voice sounded frail inside her head.

  ‘Jess was admitted with severe blood loss due to a number of deep lacerations to her wrists. We were successful in preventing any further blood loss and commenced a sequence of transfusions. As a result she is now out of immediate danger and her condition has stabilised. Our main concern at this stage is the potential injury to her brain due to oxygen deprivation. We’re keeping her in an induced coma to allow her cerebral tissue a better chance to recover.’

  Louisa found it hard to concentrate again. The doctor’s words had washed over her with little of what he said sinking in. A coma, Jess was in a coma. ‘You’re saying she might have brain damage?’

  ‘It’s too early to say at this stage.’ The doctor leaned forward. ‘She’s currently in a stable condition—that’s the good news. We have her on a ventilator to help with her breathing. We’re monitoring her closely and tomorrow we’ll have a much clearer picture. Right now she needs rest and time to heal.’

  ‘The cuts on her wrists…are you saying she did this to herself?’

  ‘My sole concern is with Jess’ welfare, Mrs Bennett. We have a counsellor on staff who is available to talk through any concerns you might have in that regard.’

  He doesn’t want to go down that road. And neither should you. Not yet, anyway.

  ‘Let me take you through to her now, Mrs Bennett.’ The doctor stood up. ‘Your husband is there already.’

  ‘Ex-husband,’ Louisa said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘He’s my ex-husband.’

  *

  Louisa followed the doctor through a set of sliding doors. The ward was roughly circular in shape with the nurses’ station in the center and the rooms arrayed around it like spokes in a wheel.

  Each room was private, containing a bed and some comfortable looking chairs. They were divided off from the corridor by a glass wall. Louisa trailed after the doctor, peering into each of the rooms at the children bundled up in the beds. Grim faced parents hovered by their bedsides.

  The doctor had stopped beside the door to one of the rooms. Louisa paused to steel herself, then looked through the glass.

  Louisa clasped a hand over her mouth. She’s so pale. So pale and so small. Her eyes darted from the ventilator taped to Jess’ mouth, to the IV in her arm, to the bandages wrapping her wrists. It was all too much. Louisa turned away. She felt a sudden urge to run, to get out of the hospital, anywhere she could escape the image of her baby girl lying in the bed with all the tubes and needles stuck into her.

  But she couldn’t, of course. She couldn’t abandon Jess.

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs Bennett,’ the doctor said, ‘it’s always a shock seeing them like this at first.’

  Louisa nodded and rubbed her eyes. She opened the door and entered the room.

  John and Abigail were sitting on a sofa to the left of the door. Louisa tensed. She knew John would be here, of course, but Abigail? The woman had no right, sitting there pretending to look concerned. She felt a sudden urge to grab her by her perfectly styled hair and trail her out of the room.

  John stood up. ‘Lou, thank God, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.’ He stared at the cut above her eye. ‘What happened to you? You look awful.’

  Just like old times, he still knows how to make me feel like crap. ‘It’s nothing.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Do they know she’s diabetic?’

  ‘Yeah, I checked already. They picked it up from her profile.’

  Louisa walked over to the bed. Jess’ chest was rising and falling steadily. Her face was relaxed and free from strain. ‘How did this happen, John?’

  ‘I got a call from her school. They found her in one of the bathrooms. She,’ his voice cracked, ‘she cut herself, Lou.’

  Louisa looked down at the bandages covering Jess’ wrists. Her fingers clenched into fists. She thought of what must be underneath—clotted blood filling deep gouts, rows of stitches tugging at the skin. Her limbs
felt suddenly heavy, weighted down like they were made of lead. She sat on a chair beside the bed. She opened her mouth to ask another question, then decided it wasn’t a good idea, then asked anyway. ‘Did they tell you why she did it?’

  ‘There was a…feed,’ John spat out the word, like it tasted vile. ‘It spread amongst her class-mates.’ He paused, looking uncomfortable. ‘It was…personal in nature, according to her teacher. She shared it with one of the boys in her class. I don’t know the specifics.’ John’s face twisted. ‘No, I don’t want to know the specifics.’

  A boy. Why hadn’t she known Jess was interested in someone at her school? Oh, Jess, when did you start keeping secrets from me? Maybe if she’d spent a bit more time with her daughter. Maybe then Jess would have confided in her. ‘Did he share it with his friends?’

  ‘No, apparently it was discovered by someone in her school after the Portal breach.’

  Louisa bowed her head. God, Jess, how often did I warn you about being careful with what you shared? ‘Hold on, the Portal breach? That means she shared it on Saturday night.’ Louisa’s voice was flat. ‘While she was staying with you.’

  ‘Now hold on Lou, it could easily have happened while she was with you. I can’t keep an eye on them every minute of the day.’

  ‘It wasn’t John’s fault,’ Abigail piped up.

  Louisa turned to glare at Abigail. ‘This isn’t—’ Louisa hesitated, seeing a flicker of light in Abigail’s eyes. A red flicker. She stared at them. A second later they flashed red.

  ‘Abigail,’ Louisa said, ‘are you sharing this?’

  She didn’t answer, but the guilt was written plain on her face.

  ‘Jesus, Abigail,’ John said.

  ‘Hey, this is my life too, you know,’ Abigail said. ‘I can do whatever I want with my own personal experiences.’

  Louisa stood up. She didn’t feel angry. She simply knew that if Abigail didn’t leave right this minute she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from throttling the woman. ‘Get her out of here, John.’

  He looked from her to Abigail.

  ‘Now, John.’

  ‘Come on, Abigail,’ John said. ‘Let’s give Lou some time alone with Jess.’

  Abigail looked as if she might protest. Louisa took a step towards her.

  ‘All right!’ Abigail said, ‘but I’ve got rights too, you know. I’ve an obligation to my subscribers.’

  John led Abigail out and Louisa watched through the glass wall as they left the ward. Abigail was giving him grief—it was clear from her body language. John looked like he was trying to calm her down. Taking her side, of course. So much for him standing up for Jess.

  She sat back down and gently took Jess’ hand. It was ice cold. She lay her head down on the bed, still holding her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m here, Jess.’

  Almost immediately she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Louisa blinked against the brightness of the medical diagnostics screen beside Jess’ bed. The rest of the room was dark, the blinds on the corridor window closed.

  Her neck had cramped up something awful while she slept. She leant back in the chair and her hip started throbbing again—a relentless, resonant drum.

  ‘I thought it best to let you sleep.’

  Louisa twisted, instantly regretting the sharp motion as shards of agony shot across her shoulders. She massaged her neck with one hand but it was of little help.

  John was sitting on the sofa. She could just make out his legs. The rest of him was lost in shadow.

  ‘Where’s Abigail got to?’ Louisa asked, barely managing to keep the mocking tone from her voice. ‘Did you send her to the shop for sweets?’

  John leaned forward. The light from the screen bathed his face in a sickly fluorescence. ‘She doesn’t mean any harm, Louisa. She just looks at life a little differently.’

  That’s what you get for shacking up with someone not much older than your daughter. She almost said it out loud, but bit her tongue. She didn’t want to argue. They’d done enough back when they were married. It was as exhausting now as it was then.

  ‘I sent her to pick up Charlie from school,’ John said. ‘She’s taking him back to my place.’

  Charlie. Louisa had forgotten about him—actually forgotten. Guilt flooded her. ‘Have you told him about Jess yet?’

  ‘No, I don’t think we should tell him all the details. Maybe we can say she’s sick?’

  Louisa shook her head. ‘He needs to know. Better it comes from us than someone in his class. That’s if he hasn’t found out about it already.’

  ‘All right. I’ll tell him when I get back.’

  Louisa wanted to see Charlie, to give him a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay. Or maybe it was her who needed the hug. She couldn’t, though. Not while Korehkov and his thugs were still a threat. He needed to be somewhere safe, away from her until it all blew over.

  ‘What’s going on, Louisa? With you, I mean. Why did the kids get dropped off earlier by a detective? Was it something to do with the trouble at your apartment block? You can tell me if something’s wrong.’

  Louisa almost did. Almost told him about Claire Harris and the SCD7 operation and the Latvian hit man and Rick. She wouldn’t have hesitated back when they were married. Louisa missed that most of all. The closeness they’d shared. But it was gone—ripped out violently from their relationship, leaving behind scars of mistrust and bitterness.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Louisa said. ‘Work stuff. I’ll need you to look after Charlie for a few days, though. Can you?’

  ‘Sure, of course.’ He knew he was getting fobbed off, but he didn’t pursue it further. ‘When’s the last time you ate something, Lou? You’re as pale as Jess.’

  Louisa thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know, maybe yesterday.’

  ‘Nothing much changed there, then. Too busy to eat as usual. You’ll be no use to Jess if you end up in hospital alongside her. Why don’t you go and get some rest? Abigail will look after Charlie. I’m going to stay here tonight. ’

  ‘No, it’s okay—’

  ‘I’m not taking no for an answer, Lou. Seriously, go home. I’ll look after things here.’

  John could be considerate when he wanted to be. It was one of the things about him that had kept her in the marriage for so long. She’d be pissed off with him about something he’d said or done, then all of a sudden he’d do something nice for her and the edge would be taken off her anger. ‘All right, but you’ll call if anything happens?’

  ‘I’ll call you straight away. You have my word on it.’

  Louisa nodded and levered herself off the chair.

  ‘Lou,’ John said softly.

  Louisa paused at the door. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? For what?’

  ‘For…you know,’ He reached out and took Louisa’s hand, ‘for everything.’

  Louisa felt her face flush. She was about to smile and laugh off John’s apology. Perhaps say something off hand to lighten the mood. But the look on his face stopped her. There was a longing there; a need. She knew because a part of her felt the same way. It was Jess, their baby, fighting for her life a few feet away. No-one else could possibly know what they were going through. A lump formed in her throat. Would it be so wrong? To give in to that need and allow each other some small comfort? Forget about the past, just for a moment?

  Instead she slowly but firmly withdrew her hand. The old Louisa might have fallen into John’s arms, cried and shared in his grief. But she was stronger now. Their divorce had given her that much, at least. ‘I know John.’ She bent down and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘For what it’s worth, I am too.’

  *

  Louisa felt lighter as she walked towards the nurses’ station. Unburdened. She didn’t know if they had finally buried the wounds of their past, but perhaps they had started on the path to healing. She could hope so, at any rate.

  ‘Ms Bennett?’
>
  Louisa turned to see Dr Lane walking towards her. ‘Before you leave would you like me to have a look at the cut above your eye?’

  ‘No, thank you, doctor,’ Louisa said. ‘It’s fine, really.’

  ‘Are you sure? It looks like it needs stitches. It will only take a moment for me to close up the wound properly. I did a stint in plastics before paediatrics. I’d hate for you to be left with a scar.’

  ‘Well, okay. Thank you, yes.’

  The doctor took her into an empty room and pulled a curtain round to block off the view from the corridor. She sat on the bed and the doctor pulled over a cabinet mounted on casters. He rifled through the drawers, retrieving several sealed packages. He ripped them open, removing an assortment of medical instruments before laying them out on a metal tray, then he pulled on some latex gloves. ‘What line of work are you in?’

  ‘I’m a police detective.’

  ‘How did you get the cut on your forehead, if you don’t mind me asking? Were you caught up in the rioting?’

  ‘No, I was in a…car accident.’

  The doctor leaned towards her and gently peeled off the temporary stitches. He moistened a cotton swab with antiseptic and cleaned the wound. Louisa gritted her teeth. It stung like hell.

  ‘I’m going to give you some local anaesthetic.’ He picked up a syringe. ‘You’ll feel a small pinch.’

  Louisa held her breath as the needle went in. She hated getting injections. It didn’t hurt, really. The thought of the metal spike boring through her flesh bothered her the most.

  The doctor picked up a curved needle with forceps and threaded through a length of suture. She didn’t feel the needle going in, but the sensation of the thread pulling at her flesh made her shiver. She thought then of Claire Harris. So many wounds, all over her body, each one stitched closed. How could anyone do that to such a young girl?

  ‘There’ll come a point when you start looking for someone to blame,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We see teenagers like Jess. Kids in her…situation, coming through our doors here fairly regularly, unfortunately. I witness firsthand what their parents go through. Grief, guilt, anger. Their emotions inevitably fluctuate between the three. It’s important you don’t blame yourself. Or your ex-husband.’