Again and again the ruler came down, hitting her on the legs, arms, back. She screamed and screamed but she knew that nobody could help. She was all alone and had to endure the pain until it was over. Just like always.
She heard the jolly jingle coming from a distance. Confusion mingled with the fear as she tried to figure out what the noise was, where it was coming from. And then, suddenly, realisation hit and her eyes sprang open, her head shot up from the cushions and swivelled round as she tried to locate her phone. ‘Crap!’ she exclaimed as she spotted the clock on the mantelpiece and then saw the number of Julia’s nursery flashing on her phone screen. She was standing and rushing towards the door before she had answered the call, balancing on one leg while putting her shoes on, then running to the car and speeding towards the school.
32
Once inside the cubicle, Bea took stock of everything. There was a tray against the wall with hospital supplies. There was a blood-pressure cuff, some bandages, plasters, a roll of what Bea was sure was gauze.
And there, lying on the tray, was a pair of scissors, its pointed ends sheathed in plastic. Bea could not tear her eyes from the sharp instrument.
Without even knowing what she was doing, she found herself walking further into the room, towards the tray. Her right hand reached out and touched the smooth handles of the scissors. The metal felt cold and Bea pulled her hand away.
But then she looked back at him. His chest was going up and down, his breathing rhythmic. He looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Bile rose in her throat and she felt as if she was going to be sick. He disgusted her. Images of Sophia lying in bed, helpless, flashed in front of her eyes. Gemma’s distraught voice on the phone. Martin’s face, grey with worry, his eyes wide open in panic. She remembered the ultrasound images of the baby, how happy Sophia was, the pink shower invitations. Everyone’s excitement.
He had ruined everything. Just as Ronnie Moss had. The sharp pain in her leg reminded her of exactly how much she had lost, how much she had suffered. Her right eye twitched with anger.
In an instant, without even thinking, she snatched the scissors from the tray and took them out of their plastic cover. Closing her fingers tightly round them, she took a step towards the bed. Then another. And another. Until she was standing right next to the man. She could smell the sweat mixed with the antiseptic cream that was covering his scratches. He was still fast asleep, evidently unperturbed by the hospital noises, the bright lights, his injuries.
Looking down, Bea examined the scissors. The blades were long, probably ten centimetres or so. These could do some real damage, she thought. Dark thoughts crossed her mind. She could kill him, end his useless life, just as he had almost done with Sophia and her baby.
But she didn’t want to get caught. No, she needed to leave this room without anyone suspecting that she had anything to do with the man. As she stared at him, she caught a glimpse of the IV she had noticed earlier. She had read somewhere of a woman dying after an air bubble in her IV ended up in her bloodstream, then into her lungs. Or was it her heart? She couldn’t remember the details.
Looking at the IV tube, she saw the fluid going through, drop by drop. Moving closer, she raised the scissors, then looked behind her. The door was still open and she could see people walking through the corridor. Closing the curtain might cause suspicion. No, she needed to be careful, make sure that nobody guessed what she had done. She just needed to make a tiny, invisible nick in the tubing. It would take a while for anyone to realise that was the cause of his problem.
Opening the scissors and holding one of the blades tightly in her hand, she took hold of the tube, careful to keep her back to the door, covering what she was doing from anyone walking by.
‘This is him.’ The voice coming from behind her startled Bea. She let go of the tube and quickly covered the scissors inside her coat sleeve. Slowly she turned round.
Two policemen were standing in the doorway and she saw a nurse turning her back and walking away. Her breathing quickened. How much had they seen? Did they know what she was about to do? Had they caught a glimpse of the blade? Were they going to arrest her?
One of the officers, a tall and extremely skinny man who looked to be in his forties, cleared his throat. ‘Uhm, sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘Are you family?’
Bea shook her head. She had to answer the question but was afraid that her voice would reveal her guilt. ‘No,’ she finally said. ‘I just thought he was someone else. A friend. He isn’t though. I was about to leave.’
And with that she turned round and squeezed by the officers, going down the corridor towards the lift, pressing the button impatiently. Only when she was inside and the doors had closed behind her did Bea take her hand out of the sleeve and put the scissors in her pocket.
*
Martin was waving excitedly, talking quickly on the phone as he walked towards Bea. She took big steps down the corridor, her heart beating fast. ‘What happened?’ she said when he was within hearing distance.
‘She woke up, she woke up,’ he said, his eyes open wide, still waving his free hand. Then, to the person on the other end: ‘It’s Bea, she’s back. Let me go.’
‘Is she OK?’ Bea asked. ‘And the baby?’
Still holding the phone in his hand, Martin shook his head, his face suddenly solemn. ‘I don’t know. The doctors are checking her out. Gemma’s with her. One of the nurses lent me her phone and I walked out to call Alex and give her some privacy.’
They walked together in silence towards Sophia’s door. It was closed. ‘They’re still in there,’ Martin said. ‘Guess we should wait. Unless you want to go in.’
‘No, no, I’ll wait with you.’ She spotted two chairs against the wall. ‘Shall we sit?’
‘Yes, sure.’ They took a few steps towards the chairs and sat down. Bea rubbed her calf and grimaced, smiling when she caught Martin looking. ‘How’s your leg, love?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s fine,’ she said, giving him a watery smile. ‘The usual.’
For a while, they sat in silence, both wrapped up in their thoughts. Bea looked at the nurses, their rubber soles making a squeaking sound on the floor. ‘He’s at the hospital,’ she finally said.
‘Who?’ Martin was looking at her with anticipation.
‘The driver who caused the accident.’
Martin took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth. His nostrils flared and anger shot out of his eyes. ‘The bastard!’ Bea had never heard him speak like that. ‘Hope he’s horribly injured.’ He looked at her, an inquisitive look on his face.
Bea shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but I heard the nurses say that he only had a few grazes and a broken leg.’ She decided not to tell him that she’d seen him, gone to his room.
‘Oh, if I got my hands on that bastard…’
‘Martin, Bea, come on in!’ Gemma’s high-pitched voice pierced through the sombre atmosphere. Bea looked up to see the woman who raised her smiling and Bea hoped that they were finally going to get some good news.
‘What’s happening?’ Martin was next to his wife in seconds. ‘Is she OK?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Gemma said. She ushered him inside the room and looked back down the corridor. ‘Come on, Bea.’
Inside, Sophia was sitting up, propped against multiple pillows. Bea recognised the way they were placed; it was exactly how Gemma used to fluff her pillows, making sure that she had soft but firm support, allowing her to be comfortable during the many hours she’d had to spend in bed.
‘How are you feeling, love?’ Martin was next to his daughter, leaning over, holding her hands. Tears sprang to Bea’s eyes at the love shining in Martin’s face as he looked at Sophia.
‘OK. Groggy,’ she responded.
‘The baby’s OK.’ Gemma’s voice filled the room and Martin cheered loudly. ‘They ran a lot of tests and everything looks good. That little girl is strong.’
‘Just like her mother,’ Martin said.
The door opened suddenly. Bea looked around to see Sean being wheeled into the room, his face crumpled with worry, his eyes seeking his wife’s.
‘She’s OK,’ Sophia said, suddenly starting to cry, hiding her face in her hands as sobs racked her body. Bea moved back, allowing the nurse to wheel Sean closer to his wife’s bed.
‘I’ll be outside,’ she mouthed to Gemma and Martin. But neither noticed her, they were too busy looking at their daughter.
Back in the corridor, Bea sat down on the chair she had vacated a short time earlier. For what seemed like a long time she sat there, wondering whether she should go back to the fourth floor, finish what she didn’t get a chance to do earlier.
33
The cell was small, smaller than the bathroom at Reginald’s home. The bed so narrow that there was no room to roll over.
His back hurt. The years carrying heavy boxes of drinks had wreaked havoc on his muscles and lying on the hard mattress wasn’t helping. He shifted his body slightly, attempting to alleviate the pain, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was impossible. No matter where he moved, his body hurt.
Standing up, Reginald took three steps across the cell, turned and took another three steps to the other side of the room. He continued pacing up and down the short length. There was a stench coming from the open toilet. It came wafting whenever Reginald approached it. Not that he was ever far – there was nowhere to go.
The last two weeks had been a nightmare. Only one that he knew he would not wake up from. As he did multiple times a day, he went over what had happened, how the police interrupted his dinner and dragged him to the station, interrogated him until he was forced to ask for a lawyer. The lawyer came and talked to him for a few minutes, then left again. When he came back he told Reginald that the British police were asking for his extradition and it was very likely that they would get it.
‘How long will that take?’
The lawyer wasn’t sure. ‘But it looks like the police here agree you’re the one they’re looking for so it won’t take long. A couple of weeks, a month at most. They’ll probably want to get it sorted quickly, before Christmas.’
‘And what do I do in the meantime?’ Reginald started to panic. While he was in this cell, he wasn’t able to go to work and there would be no money coming in for Tanya and the boys. The meagre savings that he had managed to put aside would not last long. They wouldn’t be able to afford their rent, would end up on the streets. He couldn’t bear to think what lay in store for his family.
‘You just have to wait,’ the lawyer said. ‘We’ll appeal to the judge to let you go, but I’m inclined to think they’ll want to send you to England and not be responsible for you.’
‘So, there’s no way I can be granted bail while we wait? Go back to work?’
The lawyer wrinkled his upper lip and slowly shook his head from one side to the other. ‘I can’t see that happening. They won’t want to risk you running away, embarrassing the country. The man they’re accusing you of being, killed a child and injured several more. This is going to attract a lot of publicity.’
‘Damn! I need to tell my wife.’
‘You’ll have to wait until they allow you to make a phone call. That might be a while. They’re saying you’re not cooperating so they don’t have any incentive to help.’
‘Shit, I don’t want her to hear it from anyone else.’
It was not until the following day that Reginald was allowed a phone call. He cradled the phone as he punched in the familiar number.
‘Hello!’ She sounded out of breath, scared, panicked.
‘Hey, baby.’ He tried to keep his voice even, calm, not wanting to alarm her further.
‘Reg, where are you? I’ve been worried sick.’ Her voice was so high-pitched that she sounded hysterical and he knew that she had been crying. ‘I called the police station but they wouldn’t give me any details.’
‘Did you call work? Tell them I couldn't go in?’
‘Yes, I did. I spoke to Anton. But he didn’t seem surprised. Like he knew what I was going to say even before I told him anything.’
Of course, Reginald thought. They must have gone to the hotel’s general manager to get his home address.
‘What did Anton say?’
‘Nothing,’ Tanya said.
‘Did he say if he was getting someone to replace me? Whether he’s giving my job to someone else?’
‘No.’
‘Did you ask him?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Her voice was harsher, angry. ‘I had bigger things to worry about than your stupid job. When are you going to tell me what’s happening?’
Reginald wanted to snap back at her. Tell her that his ‘stupid’ job put food on the table, paid the rent, kept her and the boys dressed, bought them books, but he didn’t want to fight with her. ‘Looks like they’re mixing me up with someone else,’ he said. He didn’t want to lie but there was no reason to worry her. And anyway, he would never dare tell her the truth on the phone. ‘Some other British guy who was involved in a traffic accident.’
‘So, tell them it’s not you!’
If the situation had not been so dire, Reginald might have laughed. Tanya’s view was so simplistic. He wished it were that easy, that the police would take his word for it, drop the investigation, stop harassing him.
‘I did, love, but these things take time. It’s a process. You just need to be patient.’
A voice behind him boomed, ‘You got thirty seconds.’
‘I’m sorry, baby, I have to go. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Kiss the boys for me, tell them not to get into trouble and not give you any grief.’ He didn’t wait for her to say goodbye, hanging up before the lump in his throat made it impossible for him to say another word, the stinging in his eyes became full-on tears.
That same day Reginald was taken to court and the judge decided to remand him in custody. He had been driven in a police van to the prison and shown to this cell. He’d been here for days and they hadn’t let him see Tanya, not even call her. His lawyer said he was keeping her informed, but Reginald knew she must be beside herself with worry.
And the boys. He wondered what Tanya had said to them, what they thought about all this. The lawyer had told him that there had been some newspaper articles, but he hadn’t shown them to him and newspapers were not exactly available in prison. Hopefully Tanya was being cautious, making sure that the boys didn’t read anything, but he knew that she could not protect them forever.
He stopped pacing and sat down on the bed. It creaked under his weight. Feelings of desperation welled inside him and he started feeling short of breath. A numb pain started in his chest, spreading outward towards the left side of his body, going down his arm. He held his breath, hoping that it would go away, that he would feel better soon. But it came again. And again.
Reginald used all the force that he could muster to get up from the bed and walk to the door. He banged on the lead door and called for help. Before he could be sure whether anyone had heard him, he slumped to the ground.
34
The house was quiet when Sandra woke up the next morning. Louis had taken the children out, as he often did on Saturday mornings. He’d treat them to breakfast, then go to the bookshop, allow them to browse the shelves, pick a book or two. Then, on nice days, they’d go to the park. Every now and then she’d join them but more often than not she welcomed the opportunity to sleep in, be able to stretch in the big bed, drink her coffee in peace without having to put her mug down every few sips to fetch something, stop a quarrel or wipe Julia’s face.
But today she didn’t have the time to luxuriate in bed. She’d barely slept all night, tossing and turning for hours. She needed to tell the others about Miriam. The minute she’d put Julia to bed last night, she’d sat at her computer and fired a quick email to the other three. It was just a couple of sentences:
Fancy coffee tomorrow morning? 11 a.m. at Covent Garden.
; It was a message they’d agreed on, a way of communicating that they had information to share.
The coffee machine made a beeping noise. She poured herself a cup, stirred in some milk, and sat down at the breakfast table, staring through the window into the garden. It was a gorgeous day, the sun shining weakly, barely a cloud to blemish the blue sky. The roses still glistened with the dew that had not yet evaporated. She smiled as her eyes rested on the swing set in the back, remembering how Julia screamed with joy, shouting, ‘Higher, higher,’ over and over. A book rested on the wrought-iron bench. It was Amanda’s favourite perch. Whenever it wasn’t raining, she’d be sitting on that bench, reading. Even when it was freezing cold, she’d bundle herself up, take a blanket to wrap around her, and sit there, struggling to flip the pages with her glove-clad hands. Sometimes Alistair would creep up from behind her, give her a fright, laugh so loudly when she’d jump up, screaming, and then run fast out of her reach.
This could all be gone. Slip through her fingers. Before long she could wake up without the family that she loved so much.
She shook her head, trying to shrug off the thought, wanting more than ever to relegate it to the back of her mind. They had some time to act. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she said aloud, wanting to reassure herself.
Downing the rest of her coffee, she headed upstairs. She popped her head into each of the children’s rooms, inhaling deeply at the mess they’d left behind. Louis never made them tidy up after themselves. The sitter would be coming soon to take care of the children while she and Louis went out to lunch. The children could clean up then.
In the bathroom, she stepped into the shower and turned the tap, cringing slightly as the hot water first hit her skin. She adjusted the temperature and stood under the cascading water, not moving, simply savouring the feeling.
We All Fall Down Page 19
