For the second morning running, Jo woke to find herself hammering at the bedroom window, screaming for Ciaran and Liam. Her sweat-sodden nightshirt clung to her like a second skin and every frantic breath was like inhaling broken glass.
The same ringtone that had first alerted her to the boys being rushed to hospital mocked her from the bedside table. She grabbed at the phone but it fell to the floor and under the bed. She retrieved it, knocking her burnt arm on the way back up. ‘FUCK.’ She rubbed the bandage and looked at the screen, to see Bob’s name displayed there.
‘Yes?’
‘We’re outside, can you let us in?’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now. Don’t leave us standing.’
Jo ended the call, checked herself in the mirror, sighed and threw on a robe. She stomped to the front door and flung it open. ‘Why not ring the bell?’ Then she had to double take. 340
‘Darren?’
‘Glad you recognise me,’ Darren said.
‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing him home,’ she said to Bob, who was wearing a grin more suited to Santa than a world-weary DI.
Darren grinned at Bob. ‘Do you think she’ll let us in or what?’
Jo stepped to one side as Darren and Bob passed. She knew she should be pleased to see her husband but she couldn’t summon up any feelings.
Bob glanced down at the doorbell receiver plugged into the wall, and switched it on.
‘You’re shaking,’ Darren said as she walked into the lounge.
‘I’m just a little shocked, that’s all. You know the boys are still in hospital?’
‘Yes. Bob’s brought me up to speed. I’ll get myself cleaned up and we’ll go and see them.’
Jo could see the sadness in Darren’s eyes, but her emotions were all over the place. ‘Have you got bail or something?’ She dropped herself onto the settee and reached for a third-full bottle of Pinot Grigio. Bob slid it away. Jo looked at him, daggers.
Darren sat next to her.
‘No, the CPS have discontinued. Finally they realised it was a massive stitch-up. I understand the Met are looking for Sam Parkin as we speak.’
‘You know the boys are still in hospital?’
‘You just said that, Jo,’ said Bob.
‘Yes, as I said, we’ll see them,’ said Darren.
Jo fidgeted with her fingers, then stood. ‘I suppose I better tidy up.’
‘Why change the habit of a lifetime? Sit down a mo.’ Darren stood and guided her by the arm, lowering her back onto the settee.
‘I’m so scared.’ Jo started to tremble, then burst into tears.
Darren took her in his arms. ‘It’s OK. It’s all going to be all right,’ he said.
‘I don’t know if it is, though. I’m having these terrible nightmares.’
‘Would it help to talk about it?’ said Darren. 341
‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
‘Try.’
‘I keep seeing the boys’ room on fire and I need to get in and save them, but I trip over Saira Bannerjee’s body, then you’re there pointing a gun at Ciaran and you shoot it and Liam tries to get it off you, but you kick him away. Then I cough until I can’t breathe. I wake up trying to escape from the window.’
Darren squeezed her. ‘It’s OK, it’s just a dream. It’ll pass.’
Jo sobbed, then a racking cough took her over. Once she’d recovered, she said, ‘What happened? In prison. They said you had drugs. And a phone.’
‘Later, but none of that’s true.’
‘I’m so sorry. I did all this to you. You must hate me.’ She coughed again, this time from the seat of her lungs.
‘Of course I don’t, but you can’t carry on like this. You’re not well.’
‘This will clear up soon enough.’
Bob chipped in. ‘He’s not talking about the cough, Jo. You’ve really been through it – emotionally, I mean. We’ve all seen it. Don’t you think it might be good to see someone, talk it through? You know, with a counsellor maybe.’
‘I’m not mad,’ she said, looking at Darren for back-up.
‘No, you’re not. But you really do need some proper looking after,’ he said.
Jo stood up and picked up the bottle of wine, sloshing a hefty measure into the glass. ‘I don’t deserve help. Not when my boys are being kept alive on fuck knows what machinery.’
‘You do and it’s out there for you. They’re going to need you well.’
Jo gulped her drink. ‘I’m such a selfish bitch.’
Bob walked over and gently took the glass from her hand, putting it back on the table. ‘You saved them in that house. Even the bad guys. You’ve put your life on the line for others, yet again.’
‘That’s what I mean. I’m always putting others first. I never think about 342Darren and the boys. And now because of me … well look at them.’
‘You didn’t do those things. Parsons and Evans did and they’ll get their just deserts.’
‘They better.’
Bob nodded. ‘They’re already charged. And Claire Jackson is rounding up their cronies as we speak.’ Bob opened the BBC News app on his phone. ‘Look.’ Jo wiped her eyes and took it from him.
Policing Minister Edward Baker arrested in dawn raid.
She handed it back. ‘Nothing about the fire then.’
Bob raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes, plenty, but don’t you see? This went to the highest level. Seems Baker’s son’s been nicked too.’
‘Really?’ said Darren.
Bob nodded. ‘Sounds like he and his Cambridge mates took the posh-boy antics to sickening new depths.’
Jo turned away. ‘I don’t care any more. Nothing matters except my boys.’
‘Let me get you a coffee,’ Darren said, standing up.
‘I don’t drink that muck. Anyway, I’ve got a drink,’ she said, reaching again for the glass.
‘I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,’ said Darren, taking the wine before she could. ‘We’re both going to make ourselves presentable, then I’m phoning your GP. After which we’ll see the boys. And that’s final.’
Jo was about to argue when her phone rang. She recognised the number immediately. ‘The hospital,’ she said. Fumbling, she pressed ‘accept’.
‘Jo Howe.’ She listened intently, barely able to comprehend what the caller was saying. She could just about mumble that she understood, then dropped the phone, her wails erupting like a devil from within.