The Birthday Girl

by Sue Fortin

  I sit with him for another ten or fifteen minutes, but he’s lapsed into sleep. I can’t help feeling hurt and rejected. Even in his hour of need, when he’s at his most vulnerable, he still doesn’t want me. He’s never going to forgive me for what I’ve done.

  Seb pokes his head around the door. ‘You OK?’ he asks in a whisper.

  ‘Can we leave?’ I shuffle into the wheelchair and Seb wheels me from the room.

  ‘Give him time,’ says Seb as we leave ICU.

  ‘I’ve been giving him time for the past two years,’ I say. ‘I thought that was bad enough, but I think I’ve just extended it further.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go to the café and get a cup of tea.’

  ‘No. Wait. I want to go and see Andrea,’ I say, looking up at Seb.

  ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I need to see her. If Zoe’s been to see Alfie, she’s bound to have gone and seen Andrea. I want to know what Andrea thinks of it all.’

  ‘OK, if you’re sure.’

  ‘Positive. Andrea’s my best friend. I want to see how she is anyway.’

  We make our way to the general ward Andrea is on and locate her bed in the far corner. She’s in a sitting position on the bed with a blue blanket draped over her bottom half, covering her plastered right leg. Colin, her husband, is sitting beside her.

  ‘Carys! I wasn’t expecting you,’ she says. ‘Hello, Seb.’

  ‘I wanted to see how you are. Hi, Colin,’ I say as Seb wheels me closer to the side of the bed. I stand up and lean over to hug her. It’s an awkward manoeuvre, one which lacks any grace. ‘I’m so glad you’re OK. I wanted to come back for you, but I couldn’t. I had to get help.’ I blurt out the unintended words.

  ‘It’s OK. They found me quickly,’ she says.

  This time there’s no perching stool, so I sit down in the wheelchair.

  ‘I need to make a call,’ says Seb, taking his mobile from his pocket. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Andrea and I exchange a look. ‘Subtly done,’ she says. ‘Anyway, how are you?’

  ‘Not so bad.’

  ‘I heard about Alfie – Zoe told me. I’m so sorry, Carys. I hope to God he’ll be OK.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I look down at my bandaged hand and think of Alfie’s bandaged head. Not for the first time, I wonder how it all came to this.

  ‘Have the police spoken to you?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes. This morning. A DCI Chilton.’

  ‘Same one who spoke to me,’ says Andrea. ‘He asked me about the weekend. When was the last time I saw Joanne? Had I seen you and her talking outside?’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The truth. I last saw Joanne when we got back from kayaking down the sodding river. That as far as I knew, she was in her room until Zoe found her outside.’ Andrea pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘Bloody hell, Carys. What the hell happened this weekend? Is it me, or is this some sort of bizarre alternative reality? I still can’t believe she’s dead. I’m half expecting Joanne to walk through the door any minute now and tell us it was one of her fucking jokes.’

  ‘If only,’ I say. ‘What I don’t understand is what Alfie was doing up there.’

  Colin coughs and fidgets on his seat. ‘Carys, about that. I’m sorry. The boys wanted to go to some party on Saturday night, over the other side of town. Said they’d get the bus there, meet their mates, stay the night and come home again Sunday.’

  ‘A party? I didn’t know anything about this,’ I say, and then wonder why I’m so surprised. It’s not like Alfie volunteers any information about what he’s doing. ‘Where was the party?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’ Colin glances at Andrea. I’m not sure if this is for moral support or some sort of apology. ‘They headed off into town Saturday morning. I went down the pub to watch some football. When I got home, about half-five, they’d already gone. Bradley texted to say they’d see me Sunday.’

  ‘Weren’t you concerned that you didn’t know where they were going?’ I ask.

  Another pause. ‘Not exactly. They’re young men. I thought it would be good to give them some freedom.’ There’s a defensive tone in Colin’s voice. ‘I know what Andrea’s like. Fussing over Bradley the whole time, wanting to know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with, all that carry-on. Young lads need to cut the apron strings, so I let them set their own agenda for a change. My mum had no idea where I was when I was their age.’

  ‘It’s at this point I feel I must apologise for my fuckwit of a husband,’ says Andrea. She’s clearly had this conversation with Colin before. He dips his head in remorse. ‘Rest assured, Carys, I’ve explained in no uncertain terms to him why we have mobile phones and check up on our kids when they’re out and about.’

  I give a roll of my eyes to Andrea as a gesture of consolation. ‘So, fast-forward to Sunday and Alfie is a no-show. What did you do?’ I ask Colin.

  ‘Nothing. He sent a text message to say he would be back Monday, that he was staying at another mate’s house.’

  ‘And you didn’t check up on him? Ask the parents if it was all OK with them?’ I ask.

  Colin grimaces. ‘I trusted him. Sorry.’

  ‘Have you told the police this?’ I ask.

  ‘I take it he never said anything to you either?’

  I shake my head. ‘Alfie is like an Enigma machine, and sadly I don’t have the code.’

  An awkward silence fills the space around us, until Andrea speaks first, re-routing the conversation.

  ‘The detective asked me about what happened on the track, when I fell.’ I detect an air of caution in her voice.

  ‘And?’ I prompt, as my stomach muscles flex to take a blow.

  ‘He wanted to make sure that my fall was an accident.’ She says the words with care.

  I sit up straighter in my chair. ‘It was. You know that, don’t you?’

  She hesitates for a fraction. ‘That’s what I told him.’

  ‘But it was. I tried to stop you from falling but I couldn’t catch you.’ I watch Andrea and Colin look at each other. ‘Andrea, I’m telling you it was an accident.’

  ‘Hey, don’t start raising your voice,’ says Colin, suddenly becoming all alpha male in what I suspect is an attempt to restore some respect in his wife’s eyes. He rises from his seat. ‘Andrea needs her rest.’

  ‘Andrea?’ I look at my friend.

  ‘I’m tired, Carys. You look tired too. You’ve got a lot of shit to deal with right now. Get some rest.’

  She closes her eyes and for the second time that afternoon, I’m dismissed with one simple action.

  WEDNESDAY

  Chapter 35

  The following morning, I am discharged from hospital, much to my relief, although it has been on the condition that I am not left alone. Seb has been great and has been able to arrange an extra day off work so he can drive me home and stay until Mum arrives.

  ‘Have you heard when they’re moving Alfie?’ asks Seb, as he helps me change into some clothes he bought from the local supermarket. I’m touched that he’s got the right size and although we are only talking about a pair of loose trousers and a T-shirt, these are absolutely my style. He knows me well and this small act of kindness helps soothe my battered heart.

  ‘They’re waiting for confirmation there’s a bed in the neurological ward in Southampton,’ I reply, slipping my feet into a pair of soft canvas shoes, which are again the perfect size and style. ‘They’re better equipped there and it’s less than an hour’s drive from my place.’

  ‘Did you want to see him before you go?’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ve already been. I went early.’

  ‘How was he?’

  ‘Awake for a while. Still hasn’t spoken.’ I fiddle unnecessarily with my shoe, as I can’t bring myself to look at Seb.

  ‘He’ll be better at Southampton, they’re specialists, right?’ He sits beside me on the bed and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder.
I deny myself the self-indulgent luxury of sinking into his arms. I must stay strong. I give a smile which is intended to be optimistic and thankful, but only manages resigned.

  ‘I hope so,’ I reply eventually.

  As I stand to leave and Seb picks up my bag, there’s a knock at the door and I’m taken aback to see DCI Chilton enter the room.

  ‘Ah, great, you’re still here,’ he says, nodding an acknowledgement to Seb. ‘I was hoping to catch you before you left.’

  ‘Everything OK?’ asks Seb, placing the bag down on the floor.

  ‘Aye, there’s been a couple of developments and I needed to check a few things.’ Chilton looks at me. ‘That OK with you, Carys?’

  ‘Of course.’ I sit down on the bed, and Seb sits next to me in what I take to be an act of solidarity. Chilton takes the lower ground on the bedside chair.

  ‘Good to see you up and about,’ he says. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Not too bad,’ I reply, wishing he would dispense with the niceties and get to the point.

  ‘The nurses have brought me up to date with Alfie. I was hoping to be able to interview him but as I understand it, that may be some way off yet.’

  ‘Interview him? Why do you need to do that?’ Alarm bashes at my heart.

  ‘I have to speak to everyone involved at some point,’ says Chilton. ‘Just so I have all bases covered.’ He throws Seb a look and continues. ‘I want to ask about the kayaks and the river.’

  ‘Is this necessary?’ asks Seb. ‘It’s distressing enough as it is.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is,’ says Chilton. ‘You know how these things work.’

  I can sense Seb is about to protest further, but I save him the trouble. ‘It’s OK. Please, Inspector, carry on.’

  Chilton clears his throat before speaking. ‘When you and Alfie went through those rapids, whose idea was it? What made you choose that route?’

  ‘Erm, I’m not sure,’ I say, trying to bide time to second-guess what Chilton’s angle is. ‘I think we got caught up in the current. It looked easier than it was. Everything happened so quickly, there wasn’t time to think or to discuss it.’

  ‘We’ve recovered the kayaks. They were further downriver. Amazingly, they survived the rapids,’ says Chilton. He takes out his pocketbook and flicks through a couple of pages. ‘Remind me again, which kayak you and Alfie were in.’

  ‘The red one.’

  ‘And you were in the front?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Can you remember the colour of the paddles you used?’

  ‘Erm … The red ones. I think.’

  ‘Can you be sure about that?’

  ‘As far as I can remember.’

  ‘And prior to the rapids, was everything OK? Did you have any accidents or mishaps along the way?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  I glance at Seb for reassurance. Somehow, I feel I’m being led into a trap, one where I don’t have the expertise to spot the hidden tripwire.

  ‘Why’s that?’ intervenes Seb.

  ‘We found some blood in the boat.’ Chilton keeps his gaze fixed on me. ‘Do you know how it got there, Carys?’

  ‘Blood?’ I repeat. I can feel the beginnings of a twitch in the corner of my eye. I think back to the kayak. ‘Oh, yes, sorry. I did have an accident. I forgot. That must have been how I hurt my head. I caught it with the paddle when I was swapping from one side to the other.’

  ‘Must have been quite a blow.’

  ‘Yes. It did hurt.’

  Seb squeezes my hand. ‘I expect the panic and adrenalin that was rushing through you blocked out the pain,’ he says. ‘Amazing how the pain receptors can do that when your life is in danger.’

  Chilton purses his lips and nods, although I suspect it’s in response to some thought running through his mind rather than agreement with Seb. ‘The thing is, the blood was on the yellow paddle. Not the red one you said you were using.’

  I stumble over the question as I attempt to process what Chilton is saying and the possible implications, wondering if I’ve caught the tripwire already. ‘Sorry, it’s difficult to talk about. To remember everything clearly. I must have been using the yellow paddle. I can’t remember now. I feel very confused.’

  ‘Could we leave the questioning there?’ asks Seb. ‘It’s very upsetting for Carys.’

  ‘I do apologise but I have to ask all these questions to get a clear picture of what happened. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.’

  ‘I think Carys has had enough for one day, though,’ says Seb. I’ve never seen him this adamant. ‘She’s still in shock.’

  ‘One more question,’ concedes Chilton, getting to his feet. ‘Did you know that Alfie had been seeing Tris Aldridge for counselling?’

  I hear myself gasp as my head jolts up to meet Chilton’s gaze. ‘What? Tris was counselling Alfie?’

  ‘Yes. I take it you didn’t know?’

  ‘No. Not at all. Neither of them told me.’ I am stunned by this revelation and yet, simultaneously, not surprised by Alfie’s deception. ‘How long has Tris been Alfie’s counsellor? Surely that’s a conflict of interest?’

  ‘According to the medical records, Tris Aldridge took over several months ago. I spoke to the secretary there and apparently Tris told her specifically not to advise you, in accordance with Alfie’s instructions.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ I say. ‘No idea at all.’

  ‘Alfie’s previous counsellor, Doctor Graeme Huntingdon, felt increasingly uncomfortable about this and said he wrote to you saying as much. Did you receive a letter from him? He had his concerns and felt you should know.’

  ‘What concerns? Did he say?’ asks Seb.

  ‘Only that he felt there was a conflict of interest and that Tris Aldridge and Alfie seemed too close. He’d had an argument with Aldridge about it and as a result was spurred into writing to you. Says, he wishes he’d written sooner,’ explains Chilton. ‘Did you receive a letter?’

  I shake my head. I’m certain I would have remembered a letter like that. ‘I don’t think so. Oh, wait! I did get a letter, the day before I left.’

  ‘Was it from Doctor Huntingdon?’ presses Chilton.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t open it. I put it to one side and got distracted with the invitation from Joanne and all the details about the weekend.’ I put my hand to my mouth to quell the tremble of my lip.

  Chilton pulls out a folded sheet of A4 paper from his inside pocket. ‘I have a copy of it here. Huntingdon’s secretary emailed it over.’

  I take the paper from him and unfold it.

  Dear Mrs Montgomery

  As you know, your son, Alfie, has been under my care for some time now, regularly meeting for counselling sessions. However, three months ago Alfie took the decision that he did not wish to meet with me any longer and asked that he could see Dr Tristan Aldridge instead.

  As I understand it, Dr Aldridge is a close family friend and while this is not wholly unethical, I feel it is my duty to raise this matter with you. It is, of course, Alfie’s prerogative to see whoever he wishes, but I feel obliged to make you aware of this recent change.

  Yours sincerely

  Dr Graeme Huntingdon, BSc(Hons) PhD

  Seb takes the letter from my hand and reads it. ‘Is this significant to the investigation?’ he asks. ‘You think there’s some connection?’

  ‘It’s a line of enquiry we’re pursuing,’ replies Chilton.

  Chapter 36

  The journey home was long and arduous. My wrist ached and my back was sore from where I’d hit several rocks in the rapids. The bumps in the road were jarring my spine against the seat, rubbing the grazes. I wish now I’d let the nurse dress some of them but I had been in such a hurry to get out of that place that I hadn’t let her.

  Originally, I had wanted to travel with Alfie, but he was being flown down to Southampton and there was limited space for passengers. In the end,
I’d watched as they took him out to the air ambulance and hoped he would remain sedated for the journey.

  Seb settles me in the living room and brings me in a cup of tea, while I listen to the message Mum has left on the answerphone.

  ‘She’s on her way,’ I say, taking the cup from Seb. ‘She’s going to come straight from the airport. She should be here by about six o’clock.’ Seb makes an effort to check his watch discreetly. I know he’s got to leave soon to get back to work. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to babysit me, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I could call in and try to arrange to start work later,’ he says.

  I can tell from the poorly disguised concern on his face that it’s not something he wants to do. Not because he doesn’t want to be with me, but because he’s under pressure from work to be there.

  ‘Honestly, Seb, I’ll be fine. It will only be a couple of hours at the most. It will give me time to have a little nap before Mum gets here. She’ll be fussing round me when she arrives, I need time to prepare for the onslaught.’ It’s a feeble attempt at making light of it. Mum does fuss and I’m not sure how much of it I’ll be able to cope with.

  Seb sits beside me and we watch the TV, although I’m sure neither of us is taking any of it in. It’s nice to sit quietly and feel safe with Seb by my side. Alfie is constantly on my mind and I wonder what must be going on inside his head. Although he’s not speaking, he’s conscious and I wonder if he can process his thoughts. Can he remember what happened on the river? How does that make him feel now? The hospital phoned to say he’d arrived safely and they were making him comfortable. I’m going to visit tomorrow with Mum.

  I doze and my half-dreams are filled with images of Alfie as a young child. When I awake, I can feel a physical pain in my chest as I recall those magical years. I have an urge to sift through all the baby photos and the pictures of him growing up. I need time to grieve for Alfie. I have lost the son I was given in life and been left with one I neither know nor understand. I still love him, but I feel broken when I think about what has happened. I need time alone with my thoughts and feelings, some of which I feel ashamed to even acknowledge. I won’t be able to do that with Mum here. She won’t understand. Sure, she’ll be fussing and clucking over me, she’ll be able to offer sympathetic words and comforting hugs when words are not enough, but she won’t truly understand. How could she? She’s never been through what I have gone through. I’m her only child and I have always loved and respected her. Mum won’t understand the level of emotional pain I’m feeling or the scarring it will undoubtedly leave behind.