Scarborough Fair (Scarborough Fair series Book 1)

by Margarita Morris

  Rose fed the money into the vending machine and punched in the number for water. An ice-cold plastic bottle thudded into the dispensing tray at the bottom of the machine. Rose bent down to pick it up and heard a familiar voice calling her name.

  She spun around.

  “Dan? What are you doing here?” He was standing behind her, hands thrust into his jeans pockets. She hadn’t told him she’d be at the hospital so how did he know where to find her?

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he said. It was then that she saw how awful he looked. His hair was unbrushed and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, going up to him and tentatively placing a hand on his arm.

  “Let’s go and sit down,” he said. Rose followed him to a nearby seating area where more of the ubiquitous plastic chairs were arranged around a low table covered in leaflets on how to quit smoking and the dangers of obesity. Dan sat with his shoulders hunched, biting his lower lip. She wanted to tell him about her grandmother but she could see he had something on his mind. She waited for him to speak first.

  “It’s Dad,” he said, at last. “He crashed the car.”

  “Oh my God, is he OK?”

  “Well he’s alive,” said Dan, trying to smile, “but he’s in a coma. The car’s a write-off.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Although Rose had firsthand experience of his dad’s terrible driving, still she wouldn’t wish something like this on her worst enemy. No wonder Dan looked so dreadful. “Do they…do they think he’s going to be all right?”

  Dan shrugged. “The doctor says we have to wait for him to come round. It hasn’t been long yet, apparently. I found out about it when I got home the other night after…after…” The words stuck in his throat. After we visited the asylum, thought Rose. After we kissed. She had a vague memory then of hearing an ambulance siren, carried on the wind.

  “So what about you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  It was such a relief to have someone to talk to that her words came tumbling out as she related what had happened at the park yesterday. “So it was a heart attack,” she finished by saying, “and I’m just so scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I know,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I’m scared too.”

  They sat hand in hand for a few moments, not saying anything. Rose wanted to reassure him, but she didn’t want to come out with a stream of platitudes like Dr Patel had yesterday. She knew nothing about coma victims and their chances of pulling through, let alone elderly heart attack patients. If they were lucky then both Dan’s dad and her grandmother would be fine. But was that asking too much, for both of them to make a full recovery? It seemed like tempting fate.

  After a couple of minutes Dan said, “I was just on my way to see Dad now.”

  “Of course,” said Rose, standing up. “And I’d better be getting back or Mum’ll send out a search party.”

  They walked back down the corridor together. The hospital was already starting to feel eerily familiar and Rose hardly noticed the disinfectant smell any more. They came to a T-junction with Intensive Care one way and High Dependency the other.

  “Call me if there’s any news,” said Rose, squeezing Dan’s hand.

  “Sure. You too.”

  They kissed, briefly and awkwardly, a light peck on the cheek, nothing more. Then he was gone, pushing open the doors to the Intensive Care Unit. Rose sighed and turned in the direction of the HDU, feeling as if all the world was crashing down around her.

  ~~~

  Dan pushed open the door to the private room where his dad lay in bed and stepped inside. Ryan was wired up to machines that beeped and hummed in the background, monitoring every sign of life, no matter how fragile.

  It had seemed like a stroke of luck, bumping into Rose like that in the hospital foyer, and for a moment he had thought she must be there because she’d heard about his dad’s accident. But it had quickly become apparent that she had reasons of her own for being in the hospital, and not good ones either. Christ, what a shitty mess. Life had served them both a couple of backhanders, and just when everything had been going so well.

  Dan’s mum was already in the room, sitting next to the bed, holding her husband’s hand which lay limp on the blanket. The doctor in charge of Ryan’s care, Dr Wilson, had told them they should talk to Ryan as much as possible because it might help him to wake up. Fiona was babbling away about everything from the sauna at the health spa to the flowers in the garden to whether or not they ought to repaint the hallway a brighter shade of green. Her words just tumbled out in a never-ending stream of consciousness. Dan had never heard her talk so much, particularly not to his dad, and he wondered if she was just in a state of shock and this was her way of dealing with it. She paused for a moment at the sound of Dan’s footsteps and smiled wanly at him. She looked deadbeat.

  “Hello love,” she said. “Would you mind if I just popped out for a minute to get myself a cup of tea? All this talking is making me thirsty.”

  “No, of course not.”

  She stood up and offered the chair to Dan. “You should talk to him,” she said. “He might be more interested in what you have to tell him.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I…”

  Fiona was already at the door. “I won’t be long.” Then she was gone.

  Dan sat down awkwardly on the plastic chair and cleared his throat. The idea of talking out loud to someone who was in a coma felt like a really weird thing to do. What was he supposed to talk about for goodness’ sake? It wasn’t like he and his dad were in the habit of having great man-to-man conversations when Ryan was awake, never mind when he was unconscious.

  Dan glanced around the room. There were so many machines in here, it was like something out of a sci-fi movie. A clear plastic bag hung on a hook above the bed and was connected to his dad’s arm by a thin plastic tube. A monitor with what Dan guessed to be his dad’s heartbeat showed a red line with a little peak of activity every other second or so. That was good. He knew from hospital dramas on the TV that when the peaks stopped and the line went straight that the patient was dead. Watching that red line with the little peaks was mesmerising, as if it was measuring out his dad’s life. Dan worried that if he looked away the peaks would cease. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Nothing you do or don’t do will make any difference. Except talking, apparently.

  He turned his attention back to his dad who was lying there so still. It wasn’t like Ryan to be still. He was always on the go, always rushing around from one appointment to the next. Always driving too fast.

  He really ought to start talking. But what was there to talk about? Well, apart from his dad’s accident, there was only one thing on his mind at the moment so he might as well talk about that. He cleared his throat and began.

  “Hey, Dad, remember that girl you nearly ran over the other day? Well you’re not going to believe this, but…”

  ~~~

  Rose and her mother shared the bottle of water between them whilst the nurses bustled around the room, monitoring the machines, checking the drips and making notes on the clipboards which hung at the end of each bed. Roxanne carried out the check on her grandmother and Rose was astonished at how quickly she worked, and always with a smile on her face.

  “She’s a tough old bird,” said Roxanne, adjusting the sheet and tucking it in where it had come loose.

  “Will she get better?” asked Rose, trusting Roxanne to give her an honest answer.

  Roxanne tilted her head sympathetically to one side and said, “The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical.” Then one of the other nurses called her over to another bed, leaving Rose wondering what exactly Roxanne had meant by that. Roxanne hadn’t said yes or no. She’d said they’d have to wait and see. Rose didn’t know if she could wait that long to find out. Already time seemed to be crawling slower than a snail on crutches.

  Rose looked at her gran’s fa
ce. The skin had an unhealthy greyish tinge to it and looked paper thin over the hollowed out cheekbones. Her lips were dry and cracked, her wispy white hair like a halo around her head. If it wasn’t for the machines indicating that life was still present, Rose wouldn’t have believed it. And what about Dan’s dad? You heard about people staying in comas for years, as good as dead and yet clinging to life by the slenderest of threads. But what did that do to the relatives waiting by the bedside?

  Andrea laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder, rousing her from her morbid reverie. “I’m just popping to the ladies. Will you be all right here?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, Mum.”

  Rose watched her mother walk from the ward. Her shoulders drooped and there was a heaviness to her step that Rose had not seen before. This must be really hard on her.

  Rose leaned forward, resting her forearms on the crisp white sheets and bringing her head close to her grandmother’s face. She had no idea if her grandmother was aware of anything at the moment, but she so much wanted to talk to her. Keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the other patients and visitors, Rose said, “Hey, Gran, remember that boy I went to the fair with? Well you’re not going to believe this but I bumped into him just now, in the hospital foyer, by the vending machine.”

  Was that a flicker of movement in her grandmother’s face? Had she heard Rose speak? It was impossible to know for sure, but for the first time since her grandmother’s collapse in the park, Rose felt a glimmer of hope. Encouraged, she quickly told her grandmother about his dad’s car accident and how worried she was for him.

  “I really like him, Gran,” she said. “Part of me wishes I didn’t have to go back to London. I’m going to miss him.”

  Rose was so sure that her grandmother was going to speak some words of comfort and support that she felt the ensuing silence as a desperate blow. Her grandmother’s eyes remained closed and there was no sign that she’d heard what Rose had said.

  ~~~

  “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. She’s not just pretty. Rose is really smart and fun to be with.”

  Once Dan started talking he found that it wasn’t so hard after all. In fact, once he got going, the words just wouldn’t stop. And talking about Rose had made him realise how much he cared about her. He told his dad all about their meeting in the café and how he’d asked her to go to the fair with him. He talked about the Kamikaze ride and how dizzy she’d been afterwards. He didn’t mention Max and the guys with the guns, obviously. It didn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances.

  “The only problem,” said Dan, “is that she’s just here on holiday and she’ll be going back to London in a couple of weeks and then I probably won’t see her again. I bet she has loads of friends back in London, maybe even a boyfriend, I don’t know, but I’m really going to miss her when she’s gone.”

  Dan stopped. There was nothing more to say. It was just his luck to fall for someone who wasn’t going to be sticking around. He wondered if she felt the same way. He’d probably never know.

  The beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence. Then something unexpected happened. His dad’s eyelids started to flicker.

  “Dad?” called Dan, leaning closer to his father. “Dad, can you hear me?”

  Was it just an involuntary twitch of the muscles, or was his dad actually waking up? Dan took hold of his father’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Dad? It’s me, Dan.”

  His dad’s eyelids flickered once more, and this time the lashes parted and Ryan slowly opened his eyes.

  Dan leapt to his feet. “Dad, it’s me. Can you see me Dad?”

  Ryan blinked as if the light in the room was unbearably bright for him, then he turned his head a fraction and looked straight at Dan.

  “Dan,” he croaked.

  “You’re awake,” cried Dan, grasping his father’s hand.

  The door opened and Fiona walked back in carrying a styrofoam cup. “Have I missed anything?”

  “He’s awake,” said Dan. “He’s awake.” It was only then that he realised his cheeks were wet. Tears of relief were streaming down his face.

  ~~~

  Rose and her mother took it in turns to go down to the cafeteria for a tasteless hospital sandwich and an insipid cup of tea. Walking through the corridors, Rose kept a lookout for Dan but didn’t see him again. Maybe he’d gone home, or was working at the amusement arcade. She thought about his dad and hoped for Dan’s sake that he would pull through.

  Back at her grandmother’s side, Rose tried to remember happier times she’d spent in Scarborough as a child. Donkey rides on the beach, sandcastles, ice cream. Those memories seemed so far away now, like they’d happened to someone else. Oh Gran, she thought, please come back to us. Beside her Andrea was flicking through one of the magazines she’d brought along. Rose didn’t know how she could read anything at a time like this, but then maybe she was just staring at the pictures?

  Did her grandmother’s eyelids flicker just then? Rose looked more closely, hardly daring to hope. Yes, there it was again. A twitching around the eye muscles. “Gran?” she called in a soft voice. Her grandmother blinked once, then opened her eyes.

  “Mum,” said Rose urgently, “Gran’s awake.”

  Andrea dropped the magazine onto the floor and hurried to the other side of the bed.

  Her grandmother tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up, and flopped back down onto the pile of pillows. “Where am I?” Her voice was barely audible, a thin rasping sound.

  Rose was overjoyed to see her open her eyes. There was hope after all. “Gran, you’re in hospital. But it’s OK. We’re here.” She grasped her grandmother’s hand and the old lady turned her head to look at her.

  “What happened?”

  “You had a heart attack in Peasholm Park,” said Andrea in a voice that was too loud. “You gave us all quite a turn, I can tell you.” She sounded as if she was scolding her mother for falling ill.

  Andrea then launched into a monologue about the paramedics and the ambulance and the A&E department, how she’d been in Intensive Care and was now in the High Dependency Unit. She described Dr Patel in glowing terms (Does she fancy him? Rose wondered) and how the nurses were all kind but busy. Couldn’t her mother shut up for a moment? Rose could see her grandmother’s eyes starting to glaze over.

  It was a relief when Roxanne arrived and Andrea was forced to be quiet. “Now then, Mrs Shawcross,” she said in her sing-song voice, “how are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” croaked her grandmother.

  “Well, that’s not surprising after all you’ve been through. Now, it’s time for your medication.” She looked pointedly at Andrea. “You’ve both been here all day. You must be dead beat. Why don’t you go home and get some rest yourselves?”

  “We’ll come back tomorrow, Gran,” said Rose, leaning over to kiss her grandmother on the cheek.

  Her grandmother smiled at her but there was a look in her eyes as if she was trying to tell Rose something that couldn’t be spoken out loud. Rose could barely bring herself to leave.

  They stopped to pick up fish and chips on the way home. But the chips were stodgy and greasy and the batter on the fish was overcooked. “I can’t eat this,” said Rose, rising from the table and throwing the unwanted food in the bin.

  “No, me neither,” said her mother. They washed up in silence, then Rose climbed the stairs to her room.

  Even though she’d done nothing all day except sit by her grandmother’s bedside, she felt exhausted and could feel the beginnings of a headache. She supposed it was the mental strain of not knowing if her grandmother was going to be all right. She flopped down on the bed and pulled her mobile from her pocket, wondering if Dan had got in touch, but there were no messages or missed calls. No news is good news, she tried to tell herself, but it sounded like a lie.

  She needed something to take her mind off images of hospital corridors and life support machines. The only thing she had were Mary’s letters. She picked up the
pile from her bedside table and flicked through until she found the next one, written on the 22nd of August 1899, a gap of four days since the previous letter. It wasn’t like Mary not to write daily and Rose wondered what had happened to cause such a delay.

  Fisherman’s Cottage,

  Scarborough,

  10am, 22nd August, 1899

  Dear Ma,

  Oh, Ma, I don’t know where to begin. Something terrible has happened! Now, make sure you’re sitting down before you read any more of this.

  There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come straight out with it. Alice has gone missing! We had this plan to get her away from Jackson, Henry Blackwood’s man, and it worked up to a point, but when Mr Hartright went to meet her at the church, she wasn’t there. He found her shawl (well it was my shawl, but Alice was wearing it) splattered with blood. But of Alice, there was absolutely no sign. We can’t think what has happened to her.

  We have reported her disappearance to the police and an Inspector from Scotland Yard has been assigned to the case, but so far they have found no clues. The blood on the shawl indicates that something bad happened in the church, but the police cannot say she has been murdered unless they find a body. It really is too dreadful to think about.

  I am going to stay in Scarborough and do everything I can to find her. I have moved out of the Grand Hotel and am being taken care of by a very kind fisherman, called Walter, and his sister, Ellie. They have been very good to me and I have offered to help Ellie keep house in return for their kindness and generosity. I’ll never forgive myself if Alice isn’t found alive, safe and well. Please don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.

  Love to all,

  Mary.

  What a terrible letter to have to write. Rose tried to imagine doing the same in similar circumstances - the confusion, the worry. The guilt. The next few letters were more of the same: the police were doing what they could, making enquiries, but there was no sign of Alice; no body had been found (a good sign, according to Mary); Walter kept an eye out every time he went fishing in case a body should wash up on the shore, but so far there had been nothing. Alice had vanished without trace.