Chapter 2

When they returned to the hospital a different doctor was on duty; tall, with a flat, round face and receding hair. This threw Erin a little, but Ollie hardly seemed to notice. She had checked the legalities of the situation, but they were not clear. A decision regarding the patient’s treatment was taken in consensus with their family. If the patient was not married, the biological father plays a major role. This was bad news. On the other hand, one of the determining factors was whether the mother had expressed a wish to be an organ donor and Erin remembered how Claudia had registered her wish online, as well as carrying a card in her purse. The website said that could be interpreted to mean the unborn baby had a right to benefit from what it described as “the mother’s organic function”.

She had discussed none of this with Ollie.

The cubicle was hot. The whole hospital felt too hot. Claudia lay on her back, with her hair spread out on the pillow. Someone had brushed it with care – it was long and blonde, unlike Erin’s which was light brown and curled in the rain – and it made her look like Sleeping Beauty, except Sleeping Beauty was not attached to an array of monitors. And no prince was going to wake Claudia with a kiss. Their mother had always told Erin how pretty she was, with her small features and hazel eyes, but Claudia was the beauty, taller, more curvaceous, sexier.

One small blessing was that their parents would never know what had happened. They had died on holiday in India when their bus fell down a crevasse – she and Claudia had never discovered the exact details – and later Erin had traced their journey on a map and allowed herself to grieve while at the same time, being thankful they had both gone together. Neither of them would have been happy on their own.

The doctor cleared his throat and Erin opened her mouth to ask how Claudia was – she meant the baby, of course – then decided she ought to let Ollie speak first, although when the doctor started talking he addressed his remarks to her.

‘We estimate the weight of the foetus as around nine hundred grams.’

Was that all? A quick calculation told her it was roughly two pounds. A baby that small might survive but, from everything she had read, the chances of it being handicapped in some way were quite high.

‘Should gestation be allowed to progress,’ the doctor continued, ‘your sister would be fed intravenously and given drugs and hormones and antibiotics for infections, if necessary.’

‘How long would it be?’ Erin asked, ‘I mean before it could be born.’

‘Hard to say. It would depend on several factors.’

‘But it stands a chance?’

‘Yes.’

And after it was born, she thought, the life support system would be disconnected and Claudia’s part in the survival of her child would come to an end. She turned to Ollie – so did the doctor – but his shoulders were hunched and his gaze fixed on the window, with its frosted glass. He had washed his hair – a good sign, Erin told herself – and smelled faintly of lemon shampoo. His hands were clenched into fists.

‘Ollie?’

He turned to look at them, his eyelids drooping from lack of sleep.

‘I think you should tell the doctor how you feel.’

‘It makes no d-difference.’

‘On the contrary,’ the doctor began, but Ollie interrupted angrily.

‘If I don’t agree I’ll be accused of killing my own child.’

‘No, Ollie, it won’t be like that.’ What a liar she was. What a hypocrite. ‘We need to discuss it, talk about what Claudia would have wanted.’

‘Claudia’s dead.’

‘But we still have to think about the baby. Your baby.’ Emotional blackmail – but what else was left?

The doctor was looking unperturbed, as though it was a situation he dealt with daily. ‘She carried a donor card,’ Erin said.

‘I see.’

Did he see? Had he taken the trouble to look up the legalities?

‘Ollie? If she wanted to donate her organs that means . . .’ But he was not prepared to hear the rest. Pushing past her, he stumbled out of the cubicle, and a moment later the swing doors of the unit creaked open and shut. She considered running after him, catching up with him in the corridor and trying to persuade him to return to Claudia’s bedside. But what good would it do? They were never going to agree.

And the following day it became clear he had made the only decision he believed left to him. He had disappeared.

* * *

In the night her mind created the scene over and over again. Since she had been walking on ahead, with Claudia lagging behind, she had not actually seen the scaffolding pole fall, so much of what she pictured was in her imagination, but no less real. She was tormented by thoughts of what might have been. If only they had reached the shops earlier, or later. If only they had stayed longer in the baby goods shop. If only Claudia had not insisted on buying a jam doughnut to eat on the way home.

When she thought about Claudia – her lively, go-getting sister – the memories she allowed herself were always good ones. Games in the garden when they were small. Dolls’ tea parties under the walnut tree, riding their bikes up and down the lane, dressing up and acting in improvised plays. But there had been fights too, savage ones that had escalated alarmingly. They were too close in age, their mother claimed, and Claudia’s birth had been “a shock for poor Erin”. Was it her fault if she was jealous of her baby sister? In any case, by the time she was five, Claudia had been bigger than she was, taller and broader, and with an expression on her face that challenged the world to thwart her in any way.

Later, after the two of them left home, they had tried to establish a different kind of relationship, where the tensions were skated over with plenty of laughter and plenty of alcohol. The premature death of their parents should have strengthened the bond between them, but seemed to have the opposite effect. True to character, Claudia had concentrated on their wills, which left everything to each other or, in the event of them both dying together, advised that their estate should be divided equally between their two daughters.

When the family home was sold and the money finally came through, Erin had stayed in London to complete her course at Art college, but Claudia had chosen a different route, giving up her job as a trainee buyer in a department store and moving to Bristol, where she could take out a relatively small mortgage on a house where prices were not quite so high.

Thinking about it, reminded Erin how she ought to contact Claudia’s bank. To tell them what? That her sister was going to die, but not until her baby had been born. That the baby’s father had disappeared. They would advise a solicitor and they would be right. Did Ollie know the name of Claudia’s solicitor? It might be better to find one of her own, but not yet, not when everything was in limbo, although perhaps it was precisely because of the present situation that she needed professional help. Where was Claudia’s phone? Had Ollie got it, and if so why?

A weak sun crept in through the dormer window. She needed to finish her sketches – she had a deadline to meet – but drawing felt impossible, so today she would concentrate on research. During the time she had worked as an illustrator, it was young children’s picture books she enjoyed the most. In the story she was currently illustrating called The Littlest Guinea Pig, several chipmunks lived together in a cage and made chirping noises that got on the guinea pigs’ nerves. Ignorant of what chipmunks looked like, she checked online and discovered their coats were brown and grey, with contrasting stripes on the sides of their faces and across their backs and tails. And their eyes were set on the sides of their heads. They ate peanuts and sunflower seeds and the bugs that crawled in their cage, and they hid food under the sawdust. She wanted one, or two or three come to that, but imagine how delighted the cat would be.

There was a mynah bird in the story too but she would find a picture of that later. Carrying on with her work, even though she was only researching online, felt wrong, disloyal to Claudia, but what was the alternative? Sitting staring into space, or going for endless, exhausting walks round the city.

Downstairs, the letterbox clicked and, pushing aside her drawings, she hurried to check the mail. Most of it was junk, addressed to the occupier, and two envelopes looked like bills she would check later. Pushing open the living room door brought back memories of the first time she had visited the house and been struck by the odd collection of furniture Claudia had acquired. A battered sofa, upholstered in brown velvet and strewn with brightly coloured cushions, two creaky cane chairs and a glass-topped coffee table with one of its wobbly legs propped up with a book about interior décor. The floor had been stripped and sealed and was partly covered by a large Persian rug with several holes in it, and the venetian blinds that had once looked so smart now made the room feel faintly sinister.

Three of the walls had been painted orange and the fourth was dark blue, half-completed. Had the paint run out or had Claudia changed her mind? She should have asked her, but could imagine how she would have reacted. Honestly, Erin, you’re so organised. I like to experiment, live for the day.

A face appeared at the window. Claudia’s friend, Jennie, from four doors down. Not now, not today, but it was no good shutting herself away like a hermit. Erin took a couple of deep breaths and went to let her in.

‘How are you?’ Jennie hesitated, wondering perhaps if she should give her a hug. Claudia had done a lot of hugging, but Jennie was giving the impression that calling round was something she had been putting off, a duty that had to be carried out, preferably as quickly as possible.

‘Come in. I was trying to find Claudia’s phone.’ Absurdly, Erin felt the need to explain what she had been doing in Claudia’s living room. ‘I think Ollie must have it.’

‘Is he here?’

‘No. He wanted the life support switched off.’

‘Oh.’ Jennie frowned, not certain how to respond.

‘When I told the doctor I wanted the baby to have a chance, he ran out of the hospital. He hasn’t been back here. I don’t know where he’s gone.’ Should she invite her up to the loft or take her into Claudia’s kitchen? ‘Would you like some coffee?’

‘They think they can save the baby?’

‘It’s what Claudia would have wanted.’

Jennie forced a smile, and Erin suspected she agreed with Ollie. Either that, or she thought it was not up to Erin to make the decision. If she had known Jennie better she might have been able to tell, but until now they had only exchanged a few words.

When she arrived at Claudia’s house, socialising had been the last thing on her mind, but one morning, several weeks back, Jennie had offered to help when her ancient Toyota Yaris had been blocked in by a van that had parked far too close. At the same time, subjecting her to a barrage of questions. Where had she moved from? What kind of work did she do? If she was Claudia’s sister, why did the two of them look so different?

‘Do the police know what happened?’ Jennie was pushing back her hair, which was a dark shade of blonde, with darker lowlights. ‘Who could have done such a thing?’

‘One of the protesters must have unscrewed a pole.’

‘So the police have decided it was an accident.’

What was she suggesting? That someone had deliberately dropped a heavy pole on the head of a passer-by?

‘Ben’s shattered.’ Ben was Jennie’s actor partner. ‘He and Claudia . . . He admired her determination, the way she forged ahead with new projects. And she liked his silly showbiz stories. ‘If there’s anything I can do.’ Jennie wanted to leave. ‘We must go for a coffee sometime. When you’re not so busy. Ava’s Place, do you know it?’

Erin nodded. ‘I went there once with Claudia. She and Ava seemed close.’

‘Yes.’ Jennie’s hand clutched at her throat, as though their conversation was making her feel queasy. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you again soon.’ She licked her finger and rubbed at a mark on the dark green top that matched the colour of her nails. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say?’

‘It’s all right. No one does.’ Erin showed her out. ‘Thank you for coming round.’

‘As I said, anything I can do . . . Claudia was quite a character. You’ll miss her such a lot. We all will.’

Erin was thinking about Jennie’s off the cuff remark. Who could have done such a thing? So the police have decided it was an accident. Had she heard something? Was that why she had come round? To warn her? To put doubts in her mind? Or had she felt the need to tell her that, while Ben might have found her sister an amusing character, not everyone did.

As soon as the front door closed, a loud mew heralded the cat’s entrance and Erin scooped it up, turned her back on Claudia’s part of the house, and carried it up to the loft where she hoped to persuade it to settle down on her bed for the rest of the morning. It opened its mouth to protest and its breath smelled of fish, the kind they put in tins of meaty cat food. If Claudia had liked cats so much, she should have had one of her own, instead of luring in someone else’s with bowls of food. Ollie had wanted to give her a kitten, but she had turned down the offer. It wouldn’t be house-trained. Can you imagine? Poo and pee all over the place and it’s impossible to get rid of the smell.

Wherever she went in the house, she heard Claudia’s voice in her head. Honestly, Erin, that Declan sounds like an arsehole. Why did you let yourself get caught up with him? Followed by an apology. Sorry, take no notice, I’m, just glad you had the guts to get away.

The loft felt safer than the rest of the house, but not that safe. In the afternoon, she would return to the hospital, and talk to the nurses, and perhaps to a doctor. The whole notion of brain dead was so difficult to take in. A ventilator was keeping Claudia’s heart beating and oxygen circulating through her blood, she was receiving nutrition through a tube and her body was kept at the correct temperature. And she was being given hormone replacement “to prolong gestation”.

Erin tried to picture the unborn baby – the doctors referred to it as the foetus – and wondered how it would feel when it learned how it had developed in its dead mother’s womb, and planned how she would tell it all about Claudia, plenty of stories that showed her in a good light. But as usual she was jumping ahead. There was no guarantee it would survive.