“Heather…” I asked. “Can I have your phone?”
“Yeah. Sure, what’s up?” She looked at me, giving me her unlocked iPhone.
“I was thinking… Did you call my father?”
“Not personally, but I assume that the police have surely already done it. He was waiting for her at the train station.”
“I need to call him.”
“Do you remember his phone number?”
“I am not quite sure.”
We lingered in the car park, as the ambulance sped towards the hospital. Clad in sleeves and hands stained with now-dry blood, I grabbed Heather’s phone and opened the Phone app. Straining to remember his number, I only recalled its ending: 20 76. I began typing +33, and a list of contacts, including mine, filled the screen. My number was prominently displayed, in fact, one of the first. At this moment, more than any other, it was imperative to call him. Adam Kominsky. My father, with whom I’ve not exchanged a word for four long years since my grandmother’s passing.
The events of the night unfolded with bewildering rapidity: first Claire, my mother, and now my sister. This sequence of events seemed too bizarre to be mere chance. My mother was assaulted, and then my sister suffered an unexpected heart attack. Heather mentioned that, by some stroke of luck, a doctor was travelling in the same train, promptly administering first aid amidst the carriage’s confines. She mentioned it was a high-speed train bound for Montpellier, stopping only at Nîmes. Thus, it seemed probable my sister would be taken to a hospital in Nîmes, not continuing to Montpellier. The odds of all these events being coincidental were slim, particularly tonight, given my sister’s otherwise robust health. As I began dialling my father’s number, I noticed Claire’s anxious presence beside me. Then, I made the call.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Adam speaking,” my voice started in a strange, very nervous voice.
“Hi, dad. It’s Charlotte,” I replied with a stern voice.
There was an instant of silence. Four years ago, the last time we spoke over the phone, it was for insulting each other, after my grandmother’s funeral. He took a piss when I compared the legs of his girlfriend, now his wife, to fast food because it’s open days and night, and cheap; you can always eat there when you’re wasted. Yeah, come on, I’m an heiress, I discovered the pleasures of alcohol quite young. But his nervous voice was the indication that, now, we are beyond our feud. Dad and I are only speaking in English, even though he is French and we both speak French, this is a habit we always had, to make it easier for me. The war, at least in this theatre, is put on hold. We have a more pressing crisis to deal with now.
“Hi, my love,” he recognised my voice and replied to me in English.
“Erm…” I was looking for what words I would pronounce. “I take it that you know what happened to Clarisse.”
“Yeah. They just called me. I, erm… We’re heading to Nimes now with Oceane, they’re gonna take her to the nearest hospital. We will see if we can have her transferred to Montpellier, as one of my friends manages the Nimes hospital.”
I forgot how harsh his French accent was. But that was… a detail, at this hour.
“Okay.”
“Are you okay? Is Amelia okay?”
“Well, things are kind of… fucked up right now. All you need to know is that everything’s under control.”
“What? What happened up there?”
“Nothing, just, erm… mum’s been assaulted at home. It’s kind of complicated to explain, but, all I can tell you now is that she’s on her way to the hospital. She’ll probably call you once they take care of her.”
“So that’s why Amelia didn’t call me.”
“Yeah, she’s unavailable. But I came home on time, and she’s safe for now.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have any update about Clarisse?”
“They said they’re taking care of her. So… I don’t know. I’m just nervous, that’s why. We’re gonna try to go there, I mean, it’s gonna take her an hour to drive there, but… We’re gonna stay there. Is it your new phone number? How can I contact you? Because your phone call says ‘confidential’ and I don’t know if your phone number is on…”
“I had a problem with my phone.”
I looked at Claire. And at Heather.
His retaliations probably end here, I reckon. I couldn’t fathom what he might do next. When he suggested that someone would meet their end tonight, I hadn’t envisaged this extraordinary outcome. He baited me by targeting my mother, and Heather has assured me that we’ll have protection through the night, given the tumultuous storm we’re amidst. But I sensed that he completely played his hand. What his next manoeuvre could be is beyond my guess. Now, the situation is starkly clear: I must head to Montpellier. We need to unravel the mystery behind Clarisse’s inexplicable heart attack, such an event, especially on this particular night, can’t possibly be a mere coincidence. And I must be there for my sister. My mother is out of harm’s way now… and after all her actions, the idea of lingering near her doesn’t appeal to me. I saved her life out of obligation.
Discovering the truth is imperative. The challenge is the journey; driving there will consume the entire night, likely arriving at dawn. It’s close to nine now, and securing a flight seems improbable. The last train bound for Montpellier, the one Clarisse was on, has departed, and it’s too late now to reach the station. Plus, both Claire and I are in dire need of a shower and must gather some belongings. The first-morning train to Montpellier departs around six, I believe. I plan to catch that. While still on the phone, absorbing the gravity of the situation, I responded to my father, having pondered deeply, glancing between my girlfriend and now my employer. “Listen, just, keep me posted over the night, I believe my boss, Heather Reed will contact you, as she’s investigating this complete mess.”
“What do you mean, your boss?”
“Yeah, like I said, it’s a long story, but I’m on the cops’ payroll now. Just, erm… Keep me posted. I’m coming to Montpellier tomorrow as soon as I can.”