The Birthday Girl

by Sue Fortin

  I had been embarrassed about having to take them. It made me feel weak and ashamed; and then there were side effects, which left all my senses dulled, until lethargy and general tiredness became my new norm. Decision-making was hard work. All these factors had convinced me I was better off without the medication. Coming off had been difficult, but I had stumbled across a site on the internet where I could buy beta-blockers. It was anonymous. I didn’t feel judged and there was no need for regular GP appointments where they asked too many questions. My online source had allowed me to battle on alone. The same way I have battled on alone with Alfie. And the same way I battle on with my life every day.

  ‘Seeing Joanne dead was hard, but don’t think for one moment it’s broken me,’ I tell Tris. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. It will be my word against yours.’

  ‘Well, not quite,’ he says. ‘Haven’t you forgotten someone? Zoe?’

  I look warily at him. ‘She’s my friend. She’ll stick up for me.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Carys. Don’t play dumb. Zoe has already told the police how upset and irrational you were all weekend.’

  ‘But I wasn’t,’ I counter. ‘In fact, I was the one making all the decisions.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘Fuck off! Get the hell out of here. I don’t have to put up with this crap from you.’

  Tris stands and walks over to the window, his hands clasped behind his head. ‘This whole thing sucks,’ he says. ‘If only Zoe had stayed in Hammerton and never bloody moved to Chichester, none of us would be in this mess.’

  I watch him pick up the call buttons and press the blue circle with the silhouette of a nurse in the centre but my mind is reeling from what he has just said. ‘Hammerton? Zoe lived in Hammerton?’ I ask.

  Tris looks up at me. ‘Yeah, Hammerton. Why?’

  I don’t answer, I’m too busy joining up dots, making connections I hadn’t been aware of before. Small, seemingly innocent and independent details start slotting into place. How did this happen? How did I miss this?

  The door to the room whooshes open and a nurse swiftly enters. ‘Everything all right?’

  The ability to speak abandons me as my brain is overloaded with a maelstrom of thoughts and images of a place I believed I no longer had any connection with.

  ‘Carys is getting upset,’ Tris says, turning to face the nurse.

  She looks over at me. ‘Oh, you do look very pale, Carys. Let me check your blood pressure. When did you start feeling unwell?’

  Tris puts the call buttons down on the chair. ‘I was just going. Carys was with my wife when she died,’ he explains, bowing his head. ‘I think my being here has unsettled her. I merely wanted to make sure she was OK. It’s very difficult for all of us.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ says the nurse; she rests a hand on Tris’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, you head off. If you need a cup of tea before you go, the kitchen is down the corridor. I’ll stay with Carys.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’

  ‘Get out of here!’ I shout, suddenly finding my voice.

  ‘Carys, please,’ says the nurse, coming around to the other side of the chair, the blood-pressure sleeve and pump in her hand. ‘Now, roll your sleeve up. That’s it. Do you want some water?’

  As the nurse fusses over me, Tris turns to leave the room. Pausing at the door, he gives me one final look. One that I can’t read. I look away first.

  I lean back in the chair and let the nurse carry out her observations as I once again go over everything in my mind.

  First of all, there’s the little nugget of information that Zoe used to live in Hammerton. Why has this never come up in conversation before? I try to remember if I’ve ever mentioned where Darren used to work. Quite possibly I have, so it seems very strange that Zoe hasn’t said anything.

  To be fair, I have bigger things on my mind. Like Tris and the impression of me he’s trying to give to everyone. That I’m unstable and my problems with Joanne were too much for me to cope with. He’s so sincere, I’m almost beginning to buy into it and start doubting myself.

  Chapter 34

  It takes some time for me to reassure the nurse that I’m fine. I let her perform her checks and drink the cup of tea that has been brought round.

  ‘Have you had panic attacks before?’ asks the nurse.

  ‘I wasn’t having a panic attack,’ I reply. ‘I just didn’t want to speak to Tris Aldridge any more.’

  The nurse doesn’t appear to be listening. ‘We can put you in touch with trained counsellors who can help you develop strategies to deal with panic attacks. I could ask the doctor to refer you to one of the mental health team. Perhaps some CBT—’

  ‘Cognitive behavioural therapy,’ I cut in, rather ungraciously. ‘Yes. I know. Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘It was only a suggestion. It’s up to you.’

  I smile at the nurse, acknowledging to myself that she’s only doing her job. ‘Actually, I’d like to go up and see my son now. Do I need to keep this drip in?’

  ‘I can take that out for you, but I don’t want you wandering about the hospital on your own. You need to be in the wheelchair if you go anywhere. Perhaps when your boyfriend comes, he could take you to see your son.’

  ‘But I need to see him as soon as possible. I want to know how he is.’

  ‘I’ll phone through for an update. You wait there.’

  Before I can argue any further, the nurse has left the room. I thump the arm of the chair in frustration. I feel perfectly able to take myself up to ICU. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll be allowed to go home today. I hate all this fussing.

  A few minutes later, the nurse returns. Alfie has had his CT scan and is on the ward. ‘He’s regained consciousness, in so much as he’s opened his eyes for a few short periods of time.’

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I say. ‘Has he said anything? Is he OK?’

  ‘Nothing yet, but it’s early days. It sounds promising though. As soon as someone is here, or one of us is free, you can go and see him.’

  ‘What about my friend, Andrea? How is she today?’

  ‘If I have any news, I’ll let you know.’

  I have to temper my frustration again. All I want is to know that the people I love and care about are OK. After the nurse has gone, my thoughts turn to Zoe. I wonder why I haven’t seen her yet. I’m surprised she hasn’t been to visit me or even called to see how I am.

  The next two hours drag by, only broken up by the lunchtime interlude. The nurse doesn’t reappear and I assume the staff have been too busy to take me up to see Alfie.

  When Seb finally arrives, I’m so relieved to see him that I sob inconsolably in his arms for a good five minutes. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head, his strong arms wrapped around my body, making me feel safe. The pent-up emotions run riot until they eventually exhaust themselves.

  ‘Oh, Seb, I’m so glad you’re here,’ I finally manage to say, my good arm firmly around his neck, the nurse having removed the drip earlier.

  ‘I came as quickly as I could,’ he says, hugging me tighter. He then pulls away and studies my face. His eyes take in the dressing on my head, the grazing to my face and bruising to my arms. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Much better now you’re here.’ It’s my turn to cast the cautionary eye. ‘You look tired, you must be shattered from all that driving.’

  ‘I’m OK,’ he says, brushing away my concern. ‘Any news on Alfie?’

  ‘Apparently he’s regained consciousness but he’s not said anything. I haven’t been able to see him yet.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’ He looks over at the wheelchair. ‘Is that your mode of transport?’

  Seb wheels me along the corridors and up to ICU without even waiting to have a coffee or a rest. I’m touched by his selflessness.

  ‘It’s through there,’ I say, pointing to the double doors ahead. ‘We have to press the buzzer to be let in.’

 
Before we reach the doors, they open and I’m taken by surprise when the blonde-haired figure of Zoe walks out. I notice almost straight away, she’s not limping. She stops in her tracks, her shocked look reflecting my own.

  ‘Zoe? What … I didn’t know you were here!’

  ‘Hello, Carys,’ she says and immediately I detect a wary tone to her voice. Her gaze shifts to the ground, her whole body language broadcasting the awkwardness she is experiencing. She looks up and gives Seb a nod. ‘Seb.’

  Seb returns the greeting.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, unable to understand why she’s coming out of ICU.

  ‘I … erm … popped in to see Alfie.’ Her eyes dart between me and Seb.

  ‘I don’t understand, how did you manage to persuade them to let you in? It’s supposed to be family only.’

  ‘Sorry, I kind of said I was related.’

  I want to ask Zoe about Hammerton, but I quell the questions which are bubbling up. I need to check a few things first. I have to be sure of my facts. If I put a foot wrong here, the consequences could be disastrous. Instead, I force myself to focus on what is happening now. ‘Why did you want to see him? Why haven’t you been to see me?’ I feel Seb’s hand rest on my shoulder and give a gentle squeeze which I interpret as a pacifying gesture, telling me to cool it.

  ‘I was worried about him. I heard what had happened. I don’t know, I felt compelled to see him,’ she offers as an explanation. ‘I didn’t think it would be a good idea to see you. Not with what’s happened. I’ve had to give a statement.’

  ‘Yes, we all have, but I don’t follow.’ As the words leave my lips, realisation dawns on me. ‘Your statement, does it implicate me? Do you think I’m responsible for what happened to Joanne?’

  ‘I really shouldn’t talk to you about it,’ says Zoe. She looks to Seb for support.

  ‘It depends what you’ve said,’ he replies.

  ‘What have you said, Zoe?’

  ‘Please, Carys,’ says Zoe, her rigid body language and inability to make eye-contact growing more pronounced by the minute.

  ‘You think I killed Joanne! For God’s sake, why would you think that, let alone say it in a police statement? I thought you were my friend.’

  ‘I am. I am your friend, but I also had to tell the truth,’ says Zoe. ‘I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Alfie too. I hope he gets better soon.’

  ‘Your ankle’s healed, then,’ I comment.

  ‘It was only a sprain.’ She steps to the side and almost hugs the wall to keep as far away from me as possible. ‘I have to go. Bye, Carys. Seb.’

  I twist round in my seat. Despite my calls for Zoe to come back, she doesn’t break stride once as she disappears around the corner and out of sight. I look up at Seb. ‘I didn’t do it. Why is she saying that?’ I can feel myself on the verge of tears but anger is welling up quicker. ‘For fuck’s sake, Seb, I can’t believe this is happening.’

  Seb moves the wheelchair to the side of the corridor and crouches in front of me, taking hold of my hand. ‘Carys, it’s OK. Keep calm. Listen to me. It doesn’t matter what Zoe says, it’s only her opinion. Without any evidence, you can’t be charged. I totally believe you. I don’t doubt you for one minute.’

  ‘What if they say there’s reasonable doubt?’

  ‘The police haven’t received the coroner’s report yet. If it shows that she died from simply falling, by accident, then there won’t even be a case to answer.’

  ‘But how will they be able to prove that?’

  ‘Different types of injuries will have different character-istics. Forensics will look at the scene – you know, blood patterns, things she could have hit her head on. The police can’t charge you simply because you happened to be the last person to see her.’

  ‘But you said I was under suspicion. Everyone thinks I have a motive.’

  ‘Did you?’

  I bite down on my lip. I haven’t told Seb about Ruby and Darren and what happened between our two families. ‘Look, I should have told you before, but Joanne’s daughter had a crush on Darren once upon a time. He was her tutor at the college. Joanne and Tris confronted us about it and it was all sorted out – a misunderstanding on the Aldridges’ part. The whole thing was long-forgotten. Or so I thought.’ As I finish, I’m aware I have taken a conscious decision not to tell Seb the whole truth. How can I? It’s best for both of us if he doesn’t know.

  ‘Right,’ says Seb, drawing the word out and raising his eyebrows a fraction.

  ‘Turns out, Joanne wasn’t ready to let the matter go. She was planning to confront me about it this weekend. Honestly, Seb, it’s crazy. She concocted this whole stupid game to get back at each of us. Me for standing by Darren over the whole Ruby thing, Andrea for conning her out of buying the gym and Zoe, get this, for having an affair with Tris.’

  Seb’s eyebrows shoot a little higher this time. ‘Wow. Is that true?’

  ‘There’s a degree of truth to all three allegations.’

  ‘So, you all have a potential motive.’

  ‘Yes. So why am I being singled out as the prime suspect?’

  ‘I take it you’ve explained all this to the police?’

  I wince. ‘No. I didn’t want it all dragged up.’

  ‘What! For Christ’s sake, Carys, you should have told Chilton. It’s bound to come out, and your failure to disclose it makes you look like you’re trying to hide something.’

  ‘I know. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t want the whole Darren and Ruby thing dragged up. It doesn’t look good on my part.’

  ‘You must tell Chilton. It gives the others a motive, so the focus won’t be entirely on you.’

  ‘OK. I’ll call him. He left his card in case I thought of anything else.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you lie, but maybe the knock to your head made you forgetful?’

  Seb gives me a meaningful look and I silently translate the subtext. ‘Yeah, that’s what it was. A little bit of amnesia.’

  Seb pats my leg. ‘I’ll make some enquiries and see if I can find anything out, off the record. I’m sure the police are being very thorough and considering all the possible motives,’ says Seb. ‘What about Tris? The spouse is always a prime suspect. If he was having an affair with Zoe, then that gives him a motive too.’

  ‘I don’t know. He came to visit me this morning. He was pleading his innocence.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake. He needs to stay away,’ says Seb, rising from his squatting position. ‘I can have a word with him if you like.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve made it clear to him that he’s not welcome.’ I let out a long breath of air. ‘Let’s go and see Alfie.’

  A few minutes later we have been buzzed through into ICU. On the wall beside the nurses’ station is a noticeboard. Staff pictures of the nurses and their names are displayed and I seek out Alfie’s nurse, Dawn. She looks to be in her late thirties and has a motherly air to her, something which makes me wonder: have I been the best mother to Alfie I could have been? Or am I lacking some unidentifiable and elusive maternal instinct? Is that why Alfie is lying here in intensive care?

  We use the alcohol gel to cleanse our hands before entering Alfie’s room. Dawn is in there with him.

  ‘Oh, look, Alfie, you have a visitor,’ she says brightly as she smooths down his sheet. ‘He’s had a wash and I’m hoping I’ve done his hair OK.’ She looks at Alfie. ‘Don’t hate me.’

  Seb wheels me over to the side of the bed and helps me stand so I can make eye contact with my son. I’m aware of both Seb and Dawn melting away and leaving me alone with Alfie.

  I hold his hand with my good one. ‘Hello, Alfie. How are you?’ The pause for a response is automatic and I remind myself what the doctor told me about Alfie’s apparent lack of speech. I study his eyes. They look right at me, boring deep behind my pupils. His stare has the intensity to cause me to make a tiny and involuntary movement of my head away. He blinks but he carries on looking at me.

/>   I break the gaze first and allow my eyes to travel to the bandage around his head. His injury appears superficial, giving no indication of the damage done on the inside. Nausea washes over me and I check the room to locate the en-suite bathroom in case I need to get there in a hurry.

  Dawn re-enters the room carrying a stool-like chair with ratchet legs. ‘I thought you might be more comfortable on this perching stool,’ she says, beginning to adjust the legs. ‘I don’t want you fainting on me.’

  ‘How he is doing?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re doing OK, aren’t you, Alfie?’ says Dawn, guiding me to the stool. ‘We’re pretty sure you can hear us. You’re just not ready to speak yet, are you, Alfie?’ All the time she’s making eye contact, using his name and smiling at him. Then she turns to me. ‘Talk to him as you normally would.’ She checks the screen on the cardiac monitor and looks at the printout. ‘See here,’ she points at the chart of the screen. ‘This was five minutes ago, when you came in. His heart rate increased. That would indicate that he knows you’re here. It’s a good sign, it means he’s responding to his surroundings.’

  Dawn leaves us alone again and my eyes are drawn to Alfie’s. ‘I wish I knew what you’re trying to tell me,’ I say, and then wonder if that’s true. I look at the cardiac monitor and the line graph Dawn pointed out with the heart rate shown in red numerals at the end of the line. The numbers are increasing, dropping now and again but the general trend is on the up. ‘Please try to rest,’ I say, trying frantically to think of something to say that isn’t going to alarm him further. ‘Nan is flying home from her holiday. She’ll come and see you as soon as she can.’

  Alfie moves his eyes away from mine and in what seems a purposeful act, he closes them. If he could verbalise the action, he’d be telling me to leave, that I’ve been dismissed. He no longer wants to talk to me. This is the equivalent of walking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.