by Anna Jacobs
Emily groaned as she heard the junction numbers involved. That was the route she’d intended to take. The traffic was always slow there, so the hold-up must be bad to warrant an announcement like that. She stopped at the first lay-by to program her satnav to cut across country by the most direct route.
Bad mistake. She soon realized it wasn’t a night to be driving such an elderly vehicle along narrow country roads, but there was nowhere convenient to stop to reprogram the satnav. She should have specified major roads to get her round the problem area. What if she broke down out here in the middle of nowhere?
A loud clap of thunder made her jump, and was it her imagination or was there a roughness to the engine’s sound? Perhaps she should try to find a hotel or a bed and breakfast?
Headlights suddenly dazzled her. She looked in the rear view mirror, annoyed to find a car following her closely. Far too closely, especially in this weather! She pressed lightly on the brakes to warn it to stay back, but it drew even closer.
It was raining so hard, she couldn’t see clearly what the idiot was doing and cried out in shock as the much bigger car suddenly pulled closer and deliberately nudged her vehicle, sending it dangerously close to the verge. She thumped her horn several times, yelling, ‘Get back, you lunatic!’
It came close and nudged her car again.
She braked to let the idiot go past, which was presumably what the driver wanted, but he slowed down to match her speed, horn blaring. Now she was puzzled, as well as angry. What was the driver trying to do? She’d read in the papers of hooligans getting their kicks from nudging other cars, but had never expected to be the target of such an assault.
She braked harder, but not in time to stop the bigger vehicle thumping into hers again. As she struggled to keep control, it bumped into her hard enough to send her car careering right off the road.
She let out an involuntary shriek and braked hard, only just managing to avoid ramming a signpost. Her car came to an abrupt halt at an upwards angle on a muddy slope. For a moment she could only sit there, too shocked to think straight.
When she looked round, she saw the big car slow down ahead, sounding its horn and flashing its headlights on and off.
It was as if it was celebrating running her off the road.
Then it speeded up and vanished.
Her car radio was still playing, so she switched it off, but left the engine running, worried it might not start again. She tried to reverse slowly back on to the road, but her wheels spun in the mud and she couldn’t gain any traction.
She pulled out her mobile phone to dial for assistance. Just then another vehicle came into view, slowing down as its headlights caught her car in their beam. It drew up where she’d gone off the road.
A man jumped out of the passenger side, coming to peer through her side window. He was about her own age, but not until a grey-haired woman got out of the driver’s side and came to join them did Emily feel it was safe to let down her window. Well, she let it down a few inches, then it stuck.
‘You all right, love?’
‘Yes. Just a bit shocked.’
‘Accidents do that to you.’
‘Accidents!’ She told him about the lunatic who’d done this to her.
He gaped at her. ‘Someone did this on purpose?’
‘Yes. Definitely.’
‘I’ve read about it in the papers,’ his companion said. She looked at Emily with sympathy. ‘Joy riders daring each other to shove people off the road. The police are looking for them, but they steal cars to do it in then vanish.’
‘Did you get their number?’ he asked.
‘What good would that do if the car was stolen? Anyway, I couldn’t see the number plate or even tell the make, except that it was a big four-wheel drive.’
‘Still, you’re not hurt, that’s the main thing. Let’s see if we can get you back on the road.’
‘I think the car’s stuck.’ She tried again to reverse with the same result.
‘Good thing I carry a tow rope.’ He turned and saw his companion already holding it out. ‘Thanks, love.’
He was very efficient and soon had Emily’s car back on the road, by which time they were both soaked.
‘There are some bad dents, so you’re going to need major work on the body, but the engine sounds all right.’
‘I doubt it’s worth bothering to repair the car. I was going to get a new one anyway.’
‘Have you far to go?’
She sighed. ‘Further than I care to drive on a night like this. I’m still shaky. I think I’ll look for a hotel. I can’t thank you enough for your help.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a poor person who passes by when someone’s in trouble. I’ll follow you for a while to make sure you’re all right and that no other lunatics waylay you on these quiet roads.’
Emily drove slowly away and the couple followed her. When they reached a wider road with other traffic, they gave a toot of the horn and passed her.
This was definitely the last time she took a short cut along minor roads in the dark. Last time ever! What was the world coming to when hooligans deliberately tried to cause accidents?
Soon afterwards, she saw a lighted sign indicating a hotel and turned off the road into its car park. There were only a few other vehicles there. She looked round carefully before she unlocked her car door, but they were smaller than the one which had rammed her.
She grabbed her suitcase and ran across to the hotel, getting soaked over even that short distance. The place was small and looked rather run down, but it seemed clean and it’d do for one night. She didn’t want to drive on through the storm, which seemed to be getting worse by the minute.
A bored receptionist signed her in and pointed out the lift, then picked up a mobile phone and continued to chat to a friend.
If I was the manager here, Emily thought angrily, I’d soon improve customer service!
She found her room easily enough. It was on the second floor, very basic: bed, TV, chair and the tiniest possible en suite bathroom. Wind gusts shook the window frame and the door rattled in sympathy. It sounded as if someone was trying to get in and she went across to double check that she’d locked the door.
She winced as lightning flashed outside, followed by a clap of thunder so loud it hurt her ears. Thank goodness she hadn’t continued driving in such a bad storm. She checked the information folder. First things first. She’d better go downstairs and get something to eat before the café closed.
The lights flickered, then flickered again. She grimaced, praying there wouldn’t be a power cut, because her torch was in the car. So was her computer and she wasn’t going out to get it now.
She opened the door to check where the stairs were, finding them round the corner from the lift. The stairs were broad and elegant, Edwardian probably, but this corridor had only one light and the carpet was badly frayed in several places. In fact, the whole hotel felt like a set for filming a ghost movie.
She went back into the room, stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. No use trying to do more than tidy her hair. It’d been thoroughly soaked and was a flattened mess. Wrapping a pashmina over her cardigan, she set off for the café.
As she walked out into the corridor, the lights flickered again. She was definitely not taking the lift, didn’t want to risk being trapped in it if the power failed.
Just as she got to the top of the stairs, the lights went out completely and she stopped moving. ‘Damn!’ she muttered under her breath. She stood still, hoping the electricity would come on again. But the seconds ticked slowly past and the lights stayed off.
She could see a faint glow coming from below, so decided to make her way downstairs by feel. After five steps, she turned the corner of the stairs, but caught her shoe heel in a frayed patch of carpet. She fell forward and reached out in the darkness for something to catch hold of.
She lost her balance, scrabbled desperately for the hand rail but her shoe wouldn’t come free of the carpet,
so she missed it. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She continued to fall, her body twisting in the air and thumping into a wall so violently it knocked the breath out of her.
As she tumbled helplessly on, she hit her head on something, crying out involuntarily from the sharp pain. Then darkness swallowed her . . .
Two
George picked up the phone, listened intently then said, ‘I’m Emily Mattison’s nephew. I’d be the closest relative in that sense. My mother is her sister, but she’s too frail to deal with this.’
His wife and mother turned to stare at him in shock.
‘Oh, dear!’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Yes, of course I’ll come and see you. Tomorrow. Yes, I’ll bring some clothes. Thank you.’
He put the phone down. ‘Aunt Emily has been in an accident. She’s in hospital in a coma. I think it’ll be better if I go to see her first and deal with the formalities, Mother. You can go later, when we’re sure she’s going to survive.’
His mother gasped for air, then her eyes rolled up and she fell sideways on the couch.
Marcia quickly felt for a pulse. ‘Just one of her faints, I think.’
‘It’s a good thing she has us to look after her. And now Emily is going to need our help, too.’ He smiled at his wife. ‘It’s a good thing I didn’t worry her with this property offer and inheritance stuff, isn’t it? I’ll take care of all that for her . . . if she recovers, she’ll be very grateful.’
‘If? Is she that badly hurt?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ He smiled again as he said it.
When Emily woke, she had trouble opening her eyes. A machine began beeping and she turned her head slightly to look towards it. She was hooked up to a monitor. Lights were flashing and the beeping hurt her head.
She must be in hospital. What had happened? She couldn’t remember.
A face appeared beside her and with a struggle, she focused on it. A woman. A nurse.
‘Emily?’
There was something in her throat and she could only manage a faint noise in response.
‘Don’t try to speak. Blink if you can understand me.’
She did that.
‘Blink three times.’
By concentrating hard, she succeeded in doing this.
‘Well done. You’re in hospital because you had an accident. You fell down some stairs. Blink twice if you understand.’
She managed that.
‘Excellent.’ The nurse turned to look at the monitor again and spoke to someone nearby. ‘Her vitals are improving.’
More discussion which Emily didn’t manage to follow, then, ‘I reckon she’ll be able to breathe on her own soon.’
The words made little sense. The last thing she remembered was saying goodbye to her sister Liz.
She gave up trying to work it out. She was too tired.
The beeping was a comfort now. It proved she was still alive.
The next time she regained consciousness, Emily felt much more comfortable. The tube had gone from her throat, thank goodness.
‘Emily? Are you awake?’
She turned her head and saw a young woman in nurse’s uniform. ‘What . . . happened?’ Her voice sounded strange, a monotone, not at all like hers.
‘You fell down some stairs and ended up in hospital. You’ve not broken anything, but you were knocked unconscious. Could you tell me your first name, please?’
‘Em’ly.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Kings . . . Langl’y.’
She couldn’t manage to ask the questions she wanted to. Tears of frustration formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t even raise her hand to wipe them away.
The nurse did it for her. ‘You’re going to be all right, Emily. Try to keep calm. Just give it a little time.’
She frowned, trying to remember falling. But she couldn’t. She had no memory of it, none whatsoever.
The soothing voice said quietly, ‘Try to rest now, Emily. You’ve done really well today. We’re very pleased with your progress.’
Jane watched her patient for a moment or two, feeling hopeful now of at least a partial recovery. You could never be sure with coma patients, though. Making a quick note on Emily’s records of what had just happened, she went back to the nurses’ station.
When the phone rang, she sighed, hoping it wasn’t another admission.
‘Intensive Care Unit.’
‘Reception. We have someone here who says he’s Emily Mattison’s nephew. He’s insisting on seeing her straight away. Can I send him up?’
‘I suppose so. She’s asleep, though.’
A couple of minutes later Jane heard the lift ping as it stopped. A burly man with close-shaven receding hair and what looked like expensive clothes stopped for a moment to look round, then strode towards the desk as if he owned the place.
‘May I help you?’
‘George Pilby. I gather you have my aunt here – Emily Mattison. I’m her closest relative. I was told she’s regained consciousness.’
‘I thought her closest relative was her sister?’
‘That’s my mother, who’s rather frail, so I came to see my aunt instead.’
Not can I see her? Jane noted. ‘You can only see her for a moment. She’s not fully conscious yet.’
‘Is she in her right mind?’
What a way to put it! ‘Your aunt answered to her name and asked what happened, so we’re very hopeful.’
‘Did she remember the accident?’
‘No. But that means nothing. It’s quite common with head injuries and comas.’
‘At her age, the memory loss can’t be good. And anyway, she was showing signs of becoming forgetful before it happened. Growing old is so sad.’
Old! The woman was fifty-eight, according to her driving licence. Jane didn’t consider that to be old and anyway, Miss Mattison didn’t look anything like her age. Her face was quite pretty, even with the bruises, and her dark brown hair was only lightly greying at the temples.
She accompanied Mr Pilby to the cubicle where Emily was being cared for, her vital signs still monitored night and day.
He stood looking down at his aunt, showing no signs of being upset, merely studying her carefully. ‘Will she regain her senses?’
Jane hurried him away from the bed. Who knew what coma patients could and could not hear? ‘We can’t tell yet, but it’s likely she’ll recover completely.’
‘Hmm.’ He stared round. ‘How long will she be here?’
‘A few more days perhaps, then she’ll be taken to a rehab unit for a week or two.’
‘It might be kinder if she died than if she recovered to face Alzheimer’s.’
‘We try to help all our patients to recover. And I’ve already told you that means nothing at this stage.’
‘But you’ll put on her records about my poor aunt Emily already having some problems. I don’t want anyone nagging her and upsetting her with questions she doesn’t understand.’
‘Yes, I’ll put it on her records.’
‘I’ll phone every day. It’s not worth coming again until she’s properly conscious.’
Jane watched him leave, glad she wasn’t dependent on help from such an unfeeling person.
When George got back to his mother’s house, he took her into the living room and sat next to her, taking her hand and patting it.
She looked at him apprehensively. ‘Emily’s not . . . dead?’
‘No. She may even recover, though in what condition they’re not sure. The accident is quite likely to trigger dementia, I’m afraid.’
Liz gasped and put one hand across her mouth. ‘Oh, no! Not Emily! She’s always been so clever. I must go and see her for myself.’
‘Not yet. She isn’t fully conscious. I don’t want you exhausting yourself unnecessarily. I think I’d better go and check her house, see that everything is all right there. Oh, and I need to get her car back. It’s apparently still in the hotel car park, so the key must be
there. It wasn’t in her handbag with her house keys. Marcia and I will pick the car up on the way to Kings Langley.’
‘That’s very kind of you, George dear. Don’t forget to tell her neighbour who you are. She’s called Rachel Fenwick and she has a key to the house as well.’
‘I’ll do that.’
The following day George and Marcia set off after breakfast for Kings Langley.
‘We should be house hunting on our own behalf today,’ she grumbled. ‘I’ve had to cancel today’s appointments.’
‘We might not need to go house hunting. Someone has to keep an eye on my aunt’s place, so if it’s at all decent, we can move in. It’ll save paying rent for a few weeks, if nothing else. It’s quite easy to get to London from there. I looked it up on line. About twenty miles, with a station nearby.’
‘But how can we? Your aunt’s in no condition to give permission.’
‘Exactly. So she can’t refuse us. Besides, we’ll be doing her a favour, taking care of her house. You’re a wonderful manager. I’m sure you’ll be able to bring it up to scratch. Old people never keep their houses nice.’
‘I don’t regard your aunt as old. She’s very young for her age.’
‘You didn’t see her in hospital. She looks dreadful, as if she’s aged ten years. We’ll make a detour to pick up her car. Which do you want to drive? This one or hers?’
‘This one.’
Later, when they both drew up outside Emily’s house, he got out of his aunt’s car and studied the place.
Marcia joined him. ‘It’s quite pretty.’
‘Bigger than I’d expected, too,’ George said. ‘Much bigger than Mother’s house. My aunt probably has some decent retirement money. She’s never been a big spender. Let’s hope it’s not old-fashioned inside. We’d better go and get the key from this neighbour.’
‘I thought you had a key.’
‘I do. But I don’t want the neighbour coming in to poke around our things while we’re out, so I’ll pretend I haven’t got a key.’ He strode down the path of the house next door, ignoring his wife’s sigh.
