Megan. Hang in there. I’m coming.
Flying into her room, three faces twist towards me: Penny, Bernadette and the consultant. Megan is lying peacefully in her bed, just as she has done for the past five days. I can’t read their expression, so I look to the machines for answers. The heart monitor registers a steady beat. The ventilator is still pushing air into her lungs. She’s alive.
Penny, tearful and angry, speaks first.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’
I ignore her and address the consultant.
‘Wh-what happened?’ The dash from the car park has stolen my breath and I can barely get the words out.
‘She’s had a mild seizure.’
I look at Penny and Bernadette and sense I’m playing catch-up here.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Megan had a sudden onset of what we can only describe as erratic electrical activity in the brain.’
I don’t understand and his answer leaves me frustrated.
‘Why has she had one now when she was doing so well?’
‘It can happen with traumatic brain injuries. In the first week we call them early post-traumatic seizures.’
‘Has it caused any permanent damage?’
‘We don’t know. As I said, it was a mild seizure. We also won’t know for some time if this is a one-off or if Megan will be permanently affected. About a quarter of people who have a seizure will have another later on in life, but there are anti-epileptic drugs that can be taken to control them.’
‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘She’s comfortable now. We’ll keep an eye on her. Like I said, it was a mild seizure and we’re hopeful there’s no lasting damage.’
He leaves and I take Megan’s hand.
‘It’s OK, Megan, I’m here now.’
‘What good is that now?’ Bernadette says and I throw Penny an accusing ‘what’s she doing here’ glare. She shrugs defensively.
‘I had to call her. I didn’t know where you were. And she is Megan’s gran.’
‘I told you I wouldn’t be long.’
‘Don’t blame Penny. You should have been here and you weren’t,’ Bernadette says, latching onto her favourite subject: Ally, the terrible mother. ‘So typical of you. When will you learn?’
I have no intention of answering this. It only encourages her and she’s consumed enough by her self-righteousness. I turn to Penny.
‘What happened exactly?’
‘I was reading to her and suddenly the machines went haywire and she started making these weird jerking movements so I called the nurses. They were here in seconds.’
‘Thank you, Penny.’
I move to hug her, but she steps away. Her face is hard, unyielding and judgemental.
‘Don’t thank me. Bernadette is right. You should have been here.’
‘I know, I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Where were you?’
I can’t lie to her.
‘I went to look at the crime scene.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘No.’
She shakes her head.
‘You’ve got to stop this, Ally. You’ve got to let the police get on with their jobs. For Megan’s sake.’
* * *
Billy Strudwick opens the door with more cheerfulness than is normal considering he’s spent the last four years caring for a cripple. His dad, Ken, was paralyzed from the waist down in an industrial accident. Just after it happened, Billy’s mum left them to it. He’d have done the same. Who wants to spend their life wiping a grown man’s backside twice a day?
‘Hi, Mr Pascoe. How’s it going?’
‘Hello, Billy. I was just passing and I thought I’d drop by. How’s your dad?’
‘He’s OK, thanks.’
He holds up a white plastic bag.
‘I bought him a DVD. I remember him saying how much he liked old war movies and this one’s a classic.’
‘Thanks. Do you want to come in and say hello? I know he’d like to see you.’
‘Sure.’
He follows Billy into the front room. Ken is in his wheelchair and he’s as cheerful as his son. He can’t for the life of him work out why. It isn’t natural. If he ended up in a wheelchair, he’d kill himself.
The living room is small and he struggles to manoeuvre his chair to face him, knocking into the coffee table so often it makes him want to laugh out loud, but Ken perseveres and shakes his hand like an old friend.
‘Simon, good to see you. Have a seat.’
‘I bought you this.’ He takes the DVD out of the plastic bag and passes it to Ken who studies the blurb on the back.
‘Where Eagles Dare. I don’t think I’ve seen this one.’
‘I think you’ll like it. It’s got Clint Eastwood in it.’
‘I’ll look forward to watching it.’ He smiles up at him. ‘I’m really touched that you should think of me. Thank you.’
It’s not that big a deal. It was £2.99 from the bargain bin, but he’s come to understand that people like Ken don’t get shown much attention so the smallest things overwhelm them. So much so, they’ll do anything for you – which brings him to the real reason he’s there.
‘How’s things generally, Ken?’
‘Great. Did Billy tell you he’s passed his driving test?’
That’s not what he meant.
‘No, that’s great news. Congratulations, Billy.’
Billy grins at him.
‘Yeah, I’ve already taken Dad out. We went down to the quay and had an ice cream, didn’t we, Dad?’
‘We did, son. I bought Billy a car with some of the money left over from my payout. Been saving it.’
He’s not interested, but he has to pretend he is. Sometimes, it feels like he spends his whole life pretending.
‘Great.’
‘It’s just a little runaround, but it’ll do for now.’
‘Absolutely. So, everything else OK with you? You look a bit pale.’
The news takes Ken by surprise.
‘Can’t complain, but the wheelchair’s a bit knackered. It’s getting harder to move around.’
Bingo.
‘Oh? Can I help? Who is it you’re dealing with at the hospital?’
‘The wheelchair service department.’
‘I know the chap who runs it. He never answers his phone, but I’ll drop him an email now for you, if you like.’
‘No, it’s OK. It just needs a service. There’s no rush.’
‘It’s no bother. It’ll take two minutes. He’s off on holiday in a few days’ time so if you don’t do something now, it’ll be weeks.’
‘Oh, OK, then.’
He gets out his special phone and holds it up in the air. ‘I’m not getting much signal here, though.’
‘That’s odd,’ says Billy. ‘We usually get 4G here.’
‘It’s my phone. It’s a bit dodgy. You don’t happen to know your Wi-Fi code, do you?’
‘Sure.’
Ken laughs.
‘Kids these days. They don’t know what day of the week it is, but they all know their Wi-Fi codes.’
He smiles and taps the code in. Then he writes an email and pretends to send it.
‘There, all done. Let me know if you don’t hear anything from him and I’ll get on to it for you.’
‘Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate it. I know you’re busy.’
‘Think nothing of it. And enjoy the film.’
They say their goodbyes and he strolls back to the paramedics’ car parked around the back of the Strudwicks’ house on a small industrial estate. He pulls his phone out and immediately he drops into the Strudwicks’ Wi-Fi. Perfect.
Now it begins.