She barely felt the shooting pains in her leg as she walked faster and faster, wanting to catch up, not keep them waiting for her. It seemed as if they had been walking for hours, the corridor endless. She had seen enough hospital rooms for a lifetime.
The nurse stopped in front of a door and waited for the Stones and Bea to catch up. Martin got there first. Bea saw him clap a hand to his mouth as he looked inside the room, his body crumple in agony. Gemma sprinted the last two steps and stood next to her husband. A strangled cry came out of her and she turned to Martin, burying her face in his chest as if to shut out what she had just seen.
For a moment Bea didn’t want to look. But then she peeked inside and saw the person that she had grown up with. She looked tiny in the narrow bed, a thick tube coming out of her mouth, multiple wires going to her chest, others strapped to her rounded belly. Machines whirred and beeped. As she looked more closely, Bea saw Sophia’s chest rise up and down rhythmically.
A surge of emotion rushed through her and she longed to hug Sophia, tell her how much she loved her, apologise for not spending more time together. When the Stones had taken Bea in, she had been worried. They already had two children – how was she ever going to fit in? Were their children going to make her life miserable? Make her feel like the outsider that she was? But instead of a nightmare, Bea had been faced with absolute bliss. A proper family who welcomed her. She remembered Sophia coming to her room when she had first moved in and sitting with her, talking, telling her all about her new school, the neighbourhood, the people that she was going to introduce her to. As Bea got stronger it was Sophia who insisted on helping her down the steps leading outside, helping her balance on her crutches and walk across the road to the park. Sophia would find a bench, even if it meant having to ask someone to leave. ‘See that girl,’ she said once to a man who would not budge. ‘She’s had a horrible accident and has to sit down. She needs this bench much more than you. Please be considerate.’ The man looked embarrassed as he left, totally shocked with the talking-to from a child.
‘Baby, can you hear me?’ Gemma was at Sophia’s side, leaning over the bed. Bea could see the tears streaming down, the absolute terror in her face.
A doctor walked in, a clipboard in his hand. ‘Are you her family?’ He was looking at Martin and Gemma but neither of them responded.
‘These are Martin and Gemma Stone.’ Bea took a step towards the doctor. ‘They’re Sophia’s parents.’
The doctor cleared his throat. ‘We’re running some tests on her husband but he said I can talk to you in the meantime.’
‘Is she going to be OK?’ Gemma’s voice sounded strangled, as if she was having to make a massive effort just to get the words out.
‘It’s still really early, but we’re hopeful.’
‘What about the baby?’ Martin was looking at the doctor eagerly, his eyes imploring, waiting and hoping for good news.
The doctor moved closer to Sophia and pointed to a monitor. ‘That’s the baby’s heartbeat.’ For a moment everyone stopped and stared at the screen. The doctor pressed a few buttons and the room was filled with the thumping sound of a heart beating fast. Thump, thump, thump. ‘It’s strong, good,’ the doctor continued. ‘But it’s still too early to know if there’s damage. The impact sent Sophia flying forward and the seat belt caused trauma to her chest and lower stomach. We’re not sure how that affected the baby.’
‘Are you saying that the seat belt did more harm than good?’ Gemma’s hands were covering her mouth, muffling her voice, making it hard for the others to understand her.
Bea put her arm around Gemma. ‘She’s asking whether the seat belt made matters worse,’ she told the doctor when he hadn’t answered the older woman’s question.
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying,’ he said, shaking his head vehemently from one side to the other. ‘Had she not been wearing her seat belt, we wouldn’t be here.’ The doctor paused, the enormity of what he had just said left hanging over them.
‘You mean she’d be dead.’ Martin wasn’t asking. He knew what the doctor meant. He just needed confirmation.
‘Most likely. Of course, you never know, but that was a very bad accident. The seat belt saved your daughter’s life.’ He pressed a couple of buttons on the screen of the monitor that was hooked to Sophia and nodded. ‘She had her seat belt low on her stomach, so it didn’t do as much harm to the baby as it could have done. She saved his or her life.’
‘Her, it’s a girl,’ Bea said, wanting the baby to have an identity, for everyone to know it was a little girl. She stepped towards Sophia’s bed, looking right at her, willing her to wake up, to open her eyes and smile, say that everything was going to be OK. Taking Sophia’s hand in hers, Bea looked towards the doctor, challenging him to stop her, tell her not to touch the patient. But he just smiled weakly. ‘What’s the most likely outcome? From your experience?’
‘Are you also family?’ he asked.
‘That’s our other daughter.’ Gemma was quick, didn’t need to think.
‘The next few hours are going to be decisive,’ the doctor said. ‘If Sophia recovers, as long as there is no major damage, the baby should be fine. They tend to be very resilient, extremely capable of withstanding injury. And as you know, babies are surrounded by fluid, and that should have protected it… her from the impact. Its own airbag, so to speak.’
‘And when will you know if the baby will be OK?’
‘We cannot be sure. Right now we are monitoring the baby but focusing on Sophia, making sure that we give her all the help that she needs. We need to constantly evaluate our treatment plan and when necessary make changes. But we have her and the baby’s health as the priorities.’
‘And what if it comes to a point where you have to choose between saving her or the baby? What happens then?’ The question was out of Bea’s mouth before she even realised what she was asking, or how inappropriate it might sound.
‘I’m afraid that’s a decision that her husband would need to make. But we’re not there yet. Not even close.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to continue my rounds. But I will be back to check on Sophia shortly.’
‘Can we stay?’ Gemma sounded like a little girl begging for a treat.
‘Yes, for a short time.’
Martin pulled a chair closer to the bed. ‘Here, sit down,’ he told his wife. Gemma obediently sat on the chair, her eyes not leaving her daughter. Martin took a couple of steps to the corner of the room and picked up another chair, bringing it next to Gemma’s. ‘Bea, sit down, honey,’ he said. ‘How’s your leg?’
The shooting pain in her calf startled Bea. She had been so focused on Sophia that she had completely forgotten about her own pain. She longed to sit down, rest, but wanted to give Martin and Gemma some time alone with Sophia. ‘No, you take it. I’m going for a short walk, maybe get some coffee. Can I get you some?’
‘I’m OK,’ Martin said before turning to his wife. ‘What about you, love?’
Gemma shook her head, still looking right at Sophia. She leaned forward and took her daughter’s hand and Bea remembered the nights when she was sick and Gemma would spend hours sitting next to her bed, stroking her face, making sure that she was comfortable.
Outside the room, Bea looked left and right, totally lost, unsure which direction they had come from. Still confused, she started walking down the long corridor. She needed a coffee, or three, immediately. Her brain was fuzzy. She hadn’t been sleeping well, too worried about her future.
She spotted the lift and decided to go downstairs. The cafeteria had to be on the ground floor. She smiled at the two nurses who joined her to wait for the lift, letting them go ahead of her when it arrived.
‘Have you seen the guy in 410? His whole body reeked of alcohol. Inserting the IV was like poking a vodka watermelon.’ The nurse who was speaking was petite, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, exposing a disproportionately long neck.
The ot
her nurse, a tall redhead, her make-up-free face covered in freckles, nodded. ‘Yes, I was at A & E with another patient when they brought him in. They said he rammed into another car on Westminster Bridge. The other car flipped over on impact and almost broke through the balustrade and fell into the river. Thankfully not, though, but it was extremely close.’
The conversation was all too familiar. Bea remembered the nurses talking in hushed tones about the accident and Ronnie Moss’ escape. She remembered them listing the injuries of those on board, and talking about Sebastian.
‘The poor woman.’ It was the blonde again. Bea snatched a quick glance at her name tag. Karen Wilde. ‘They had to cut the roof off the car to get her out. She’s very pregnant.’
The lift pinged as it arrived on the ground floor. The doors opened and the two nurses got out, chatting about something else, the drunk driver and the injured pregnant woman forgotten. But not to Bea. Without even thinking she pressed the button to go back up.
The lift seemed to be taking forever. Bea chewed on her lip; her hands were clenched into tight fists, her shoulders felt tight, her back stiff. It was all coming back. The smells of the hospital, the white lights, the nurses rushing along. She remembered exactly how desperate she had felt back then and knew that Sophia would feel just the same when she woke up. This shouldn’t be happening to Sophia. She was a good person, would never harm anyone. Her life was fairy-tale perfect.
Another drunk driver. Anger filled her until she felt as if she wanted to throw up, get rid of all the horrible feelings inside her.
Finally, the doors pinged open. For a moment Bea didn’t move, standing still until the doors started to close again. It was only then that she jumped out and stood looking at the busy hospital hallway. Somewhere close by was the man who had nearly killed Sophia. Bile rose in Bea’s throat and all the anger that she had bottled up for years felt as if it wanted to explode out of her chest. She could not allow this man to get away as Ronnie Moss had done. The police had proven themselves useless to stop him; how could she trust them to do the right thing now? This man could leave the hospital and skip town, disappear, just as Ronnie Moss had done, leaving Sophia in that hospital bed, trying to heal, both physically and emotionally.
And what about Gemma and Martin? This couldn’t be good for them. They weren’t young and the shock of seeing their daughter lying in bed, the uncertainty about her life and that of her child – their first grandchild – could be catastrophic. This time should be full of joy. Gemma should be running to the shops, stocking up on baby items, preparing for the shower that she had been so excited about. The next time they should have come to hospital was to see the baby. They shouldn’t be waiting in Sophia’s room, waiting to hear how badly injured their daughter was, whether she would make a full recovery, if her child was going to survive.
One step after the other, Bea walked down the corridor, scanning the bed numbers printed outside the doors of each ward. 401, 402, 403, 404... And then, the one she was looking for. 410. She stopped right next to the open door, and for a moment didn’t know whether she should go in. Whether she should look at his face, the man who was causing so much pain to the people she loved.
Clenching her jaw, Bea looked up and down the corridor. Nurses were busy going in and out of rooms but nobody looked at her, seemed to notice her standing there. Nobody could know what she was thinking.
With two steps Bea was inside the otherwise empty ward, staring at the man on the bed. His brown hair was coming out of his ponytail from the sides. His face was lined with scratches. No stitches though, Bea noticed. There was a bandage around his bare chest, a black and blue mark peeking from the top. His right leg was in a cast, elevated by pillows. There was an IV going into his arm. But otherwise he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, unaware of the havoc he caused, the lives he was turning upside down.
Anger and desperation mingled together. Bea felt the blood rush to her head, her face getting warmer and warmer until her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. How dared he be OK?
Bea knew that she had to do something to change that. Get revenge for Sophia. Get revenge for herself.
31
The drive back to London seemed interminable. Sandra’s foot was heavy on the accelerator pedal. She didn’t even look at the speedometer. She didn’t need to look to know that she was way over the speed limit. Instead she pressed her foot even further down.
She could not wait to get home. To shut the door behind her. Be able to close her eyes and try to forget the look on Miriam’s face. Sandra shook her head, trying to focus on the road ahead. If she hurried, she’d have an hour to collect herself before having to pick up Julia.
She shuddered, her whole body shaking, her grip on the wheel becoming less secure. What the hell had she been thinking? She should have listened to her gut telling her to turn around, not to make this trip in the first place. She was usually rational, thought ahead, made sure that she understood the consequences of her actions.
A car came from behind, going even faster than she was. Looking in the rear-view mirror, she saw it careening towards her. Tightening her hands around the steering wheel, Sandra focused on keeping the car steady, not wanting to slow down lest the other car slammed into her.
The horn beeped and it looked as if the car was taunting her to go even faster. She shook her head and kept her pace. The car veered into the other lane and overtook her, swerving again to come right in front of her. Slowly she eased her foot off the pedal to reduce the speed, slowing down to a safe velocity.
‘What is going on with you?’ she asked herself. This was so unlike her. She, of all people, should know better than to drive like a maniac. She could have hurt herself. Or someone else. One accident was enough for a lifetime. She needed to get a grip.
As soon as she entered the house, she took off her shoes. They were new, a recent splurge, and the backs had dug into the soft flesh at the back of her heels, leaving two large blisters. ‘Super!’ she exclaimed. That was the last thing she needed, to have to hobble around with painful blisters.
Exhausted, she sat down on the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions, allowing her body to relax. She exhaled, one breath after the other, allowing the tension to escape her body. In here she was safe. Still, the fast thrumming of her heart wouldn’t stop. The safe haven that she had worked so hard to create was getting threatened.
Miriam’s face flashed in front of her eyes. The way she’d looked this morning, her body ravaged by illness, connected to machines, but her eyes were still the same as they’d been, the coldness that Sandra remembered. Completely devoid of emotion. She hadn’t appeared surprised, almost as if she’d been expecting one of them to turn up. That they would try to seek revenge for the past.
Sandra’s stomach knotted and for a moment she felt as if she was about to throw up. Of course, she hated Miriam. She hated that she had pushed them to do the unthinkable. She hated how she could never share the true story of her years in that house. And more than anything else, she hated how, even now, Miriam still brought out the worst in her, pushed her to the edge, almost forced her to do something that she would never have thought she would do. For a moment, standing in that room, Sandra had completely forgotten about her children, her husband, her life. She’d been willing to throw it all away to deprive Miriam of oxygen, to see the life being sucked out of her, just as Miriam had robbed them of any joy, any feeling of security that children craved.
Tears stung her eyes. She thought about the loneliness of those years, the constant fear, the perpetual paranoia. Life with her uncle had not been ideal, but at least she’d known that she was safe. Things had got incrementally better until she’d married Louis and her life had become as close to perfect as anyone could hope.
She looked around her pristine living room. The board games were stacked neatly on the shelves next to the television. A few books were scattered on the oversized coffee table. The leg of a purple soft toy was sticking out of the wooden toy box. S
he imagined Louis sitting in his favourite armchair right across from her. She’d hated that green monstrosity when they’d got married. Louis had given her carte blanche to decorate the house any way she wanted, but he’d insisted on keeping the armchair.
‘It doesn’t go with any of our other furniture,’ she’d complained.
‘It stays, and that’s final,’ Louis had said.
‘But it’s horrid,’ she’d insisted.
Finally, after a lot of persuasion, he’d allowed her to reupholster it to blend in better.
And then she imagined Alistair and Amanda sitting on the floor, doing their homework on the circular coffee table, while Julia took every single toy out of the wooden box and scattered them around the room.
She closed her eyes and a lone tear slid down her cheek.
*
She was standing in the middle of the large room, all alone. It was cold, almost to the point of freezing. She could see her breath. She felt her body quiver, just a little bit at first and then, as the cold seemed to penetrate through her clothes and into her body, she started shaking even more.
Her stomach grumbled. She was hungry, starving. She could not remember the last time she’d eaten. It wasn’t today. No, she was sure of that. Was it yesterday? Perhaps, but she could not recall. It was almost as if her brain had blocked all memories of food because they were too painful.
The pain took her by surprise. The back of her leg burned. She felt the thick metal ruler being pried away, leaving the skin raw. Her hands flew to her aching thigh but she immediately regretted it. She heard the swish of the ruler and before she could move her hands away, it hit her right on the knuckles.
The scream escaped before she could stop it. She knew it was a mistake, she knew she was going to pay for this, but she couldn’t help it. The pain was too much. She took her aching hands off her leg and pressed them against her chest.
Before she’d had time to recover, the ruler came swishing down again, hitting her exactly where it had before, the pain even more intense. The breath was knocked out of her and she stumbled forward, losing her footing and falling to the ground.
We All Fall Down Page 18
