Zachary was stretchered to hospital with one of the nurses from Ryland’s accompanying him.
Even though Jubilee Watkins had failed to turn up for her shift, Ned Sheringham had volunteered to lose his day off to sit through the night with his old friend. Zac was checked over by a doctor and by midnight was discharged and was tucked up in his old bed at the side of his mate, Alf Dean.
The pressure sore was duly noted. ‘We’ll soon get that to heal,’ Matilda Warrender assured the members of staff. Incredibly, Zac didn’t seem too damaged by his experiences.
As she tucked him up in bed, Matilda reflected. Maybe sometimes short-term memory loss can do you favours. The teddy bear was not quite forgotten, but now Zac managed to cuddle a Jelly Cat rabbit which had been dropped by a young visitor. He sucked it and stroked it and it began to feel familiar. She bent over him. ‘It’s yours now, Zac.’
His response was childlike. ‘For ever?’
‘For ever.’
‘And no one will take it away?’
‘No. I promise.’
He lay back against the pillow and smiled, sensing he was safe, back where he belonged.
Joanna wasn’t quite so fortunate. Matthew’s fury might be lessening, but now she’d left the maternity hospital, she had to be debriefed, as well as make a call to Chief Superintendent Rush, who listened to her stumbling phrases without comment until she’d finished.
‘So where are you now, Piercy?’
‘Back at the station, sir, writing up the account.’
Maybe he could hear the wobble in her voice or maybe her upset at Matthew’s anger was somehow transmitting itself down the phone.
‘Are you fit to go home or do you need a medical check-over?’
‘I’ve had a check-up, sir. I need to go home. Matthew will be there.’ She flicked her gaze up towards her husband who was standing on guard.
‘Then go home,’ Rush said, ‘and take a few days off.’
‘Yes, sir.’
It was Matthew who ended the call, at which point she leaned in against him, exhausted, frightened and guilty.
He was too angry or – she stole another look at him – worried? to speak, but fetched his car, drew up outside the front steps of the station and moved round to open the passenger door.
Then he looked at her long and hard. ‘God, Jo,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how you could have been so stupid. You walked right into a trap.’
Perhaps it was that one word, ‘trap’, that made her put everything into place. Korpanski’s injuries had been no accidental hit-and-run, no clumsy driving by so-called ‘joyriders’. Fran Korpanski was right. It was all her fault. It had been a deliberate attempt to remove him from the scene. Korpanski would have stuck to her side like glue.
Matthew started the engine and headed off.
It wasn’t until she was home, lying on the sofa, that she began to shake. And now Matthew’s voice softened and he was looking at her with that familiar warm green light in his eyes.
He took her in his arms, pressing the child between them. ‘Have you no idea?’ He spoke softly, gently into her ear. ‘No idea at all how much you mean to me? You’re everything. You and him. You are my family, Jo.’