Elaine Dacre had had a bad night. The hospice nurses were coming in regularly now and one was there as Cat arrived. Now that there were no beds in Imogen House, they tried to give the same care to patients in their own homes, though it wasn’t always possible and the physical comforts of special beds and equipment were lacking. The GPs did not come out after hours either – some would not make home visits at all, even to the dying. That left a gap which no one else could fill, Cat thought.
The room was suffused with early-morning sunlight and the window was open onto the garden. A neighbour was cutting grass nearby and the smell came drifting up, making Elaine smile. ‘Summers of childhood,’ she said. ‘Smell of grass … sound of the sea.’
Cat sat beside her and took her hand. All the flesh seemed to have melted away now, leaving skin stretched over bones, and bright, bright eyes.
‘It’s so good of you to come. You know I like to see you. Tell me what’s happening in the world.’
Cat laughed. ‘Not sure you want to know.’
They chatted for a while. Elaine’s voice was weak now but she was still ready to laugh. Once or twice she closed her eyes and dozed. Angie brought in coffee for Cat, but after looking quickly at her mother-in-law, was struck by the need to rush off on some urgent mission.
Cat wondered, as ever, why people were afraid of death and the dying, and decided that the usual explanation certainly held true, that it was because death was now pushed away to the far edge of everyday life instead of being put in the centre of it. She remembered one rare patient, a young woman in her early thirties, who had insisted on having her three children in and out of her room, on her bed, even going to sleep with her, through her last weeks, and talked to them about what was happening, never failing to answer their questions, never allowing them to be sent away if they wanted to stay. How rare that was.
She drank her coffee as Elaine drifted off. She would die within the next few days and how would the family cope, if they were alone with her when it happened? Leave her by herself? No, but until the last second they would be in denial, and if Elaine wanted to talk, they would stop her, kindly, firmly. Cat felt helpless but knew that what she could do, she was doing now. There was nothing else.
It was warm and quiet and the sun was on her face. Her sleep was deeper, but for now she was comfortable. When Cat’s mobile rang she did not stir.
‘This is Kieron Bright.’
An hour and a half later, she was there. ‘My father and stepmother are coming back from France now.’
She looked at the Chief, trying to read his face.
‘I want to see him,’ she said.
‘The trauma team are working on him – they won’t let anyone else in for now. You know the form. Come to the canteen, I’ll tell you everything.’
‘I want him to know I’m here, Kieron.’
He hesitated.
‘Listen, I’m a doctor. It’s important they know that, and that someone tells him I’m here, in case he comes round. Even if I’m not allowed in I want him to be told.’
He found them a table, bought coffees, and went to get someone to relay her message. Whether they would, and how much point there was, he did not know.
‘Thanks,’ Cat said. Her hand was shaking as she lifted her coffee but she steadied it with the other.
‘Different,’ she said, ‘when it’s your own. Being a doctor isn’t relevant.’
‘No.’
‘It’s the same with the police, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right.’ She drained her cup and set it down. ‘I’m focused now. What happened?’
She listened without speaking, head bent, thinking, imagining everything, going over the probable injuries. Judith rang in the middle of it, and she answered, said she would call back when she knew more.
‘It’s not good,’ she said. They had to be prepared, as she was now.
‘You can’t stay here with me, you’ve got a force to run. Go back, Kieron.’
‘Simon’s my officer and my responsibility, I’m staying until there’s some definite news.’
The CEOP team from London would take over and he would be kept up to speed. They would collect what they needed not only against Morson but against the whole paedophile ring, though it would take time and Morson almost certainly would have been able to warn some of the others. The local area would deal with Jason Smith and however many other thugs it had taken to put Serrailler between life and death.
They went to walk in the corridors, and outside where ambulances came in and out, and the lobbies which were crowded with outpatients. They drank more coffee. Several times, he tried to get news of Simon and failed. He took endless calls, one about Richard Serrailler, which he did not mention to Cat. Kieron ordered everyone to hold off. Another day or two before they took Richard in for questioning would not matter once he was back in the country.
They were standing in the sun by the entrance doors. Conversation had petered out. He had to stay to support her until there was news, however long it took, but there was nothing he could say and Cat clearly did not want pointless small talk. He took his cue from her.
‘Excuse me …’
The doctor was young, calm, and his focus was still in the trauma unit.
Cat jumped up. ‘You’ve got some news?’
‘You are?’
She told him.
‘Right … you’re his next of kin?’
‘No, my – our father is but he’s on his way back from France.’
‘Right …’
‘I’m a doctor.’
‘Ah. Right.’ He went over to sit on a low wall. Cat followed. ‘Right.’ He seemed to gather himself together and work out where to start. ‘OK, he’s still alive. God knows how he survived – we don’t know how long it was after the attack that he was found but … well, it’s amazing that he’s alive. He has multiple fractures, including his skull and his pelvis … the thing we’re concerned about most is the internal bleeding, but we’ve had him in surgery and they’ve found the tear that was causing most of it and been able to repair that. He’s had seven pints of blood …’
Cat closed her eyes.
‘He’ll probably lose one kidney, and his spleen … He’s had a CAT scan and although he does have a skull fracture, as I said, there doesn’t appear to be any brain damage. One of his eyes may have been blinded but we have to wait till the tissue swelling goes down and ophthalmology can assess. He had his left arm badly crushed – we don’t know if we can save that yet. But he’s more or less stable for now. As you’ll know, the next hours are critical … if he gets through twelve hours, he’s a small chance. If he gets through twenty-four –’
‘Do you think he will?’
He held out his hands.
‘Come on … chances? Percentage? In your opinion?’
‘I’m not the consultant.’
‘Your opinion?’
He shook his head.
‘Please. Fifty–fifty? Less. More?’
In the end he said, ‘Less.’ But would not be pushed further.
‘I’d say no, only you’re a medic, you’ve seen all this.’
She had. Except that this was not a ‘case’, this wasn’t some stranger being brought in by ambulance from a road accident, while she waited, as a junior doctor doing her A & E stint, to help assess the injuries and be given her job. This was Simon.
‘Yes. Let’s go.’
The young doctor got up. Kieron said, ‘I’ll wait for you. I’ve got some calls.’ But she did not hear him.
Simon was barely visible. There were more machines than she had ever known together beside one bed, more tubes, lines, clips. More flashing lights. More beeping. He was lying flat on the bed, intubated, bandaged, his chest and arms bare and covered with monitor pads. His hair was shaved at the front. He looked bloodless. No longer human.
She managed to find a bare patch on the back of his hand and stroked it.
‘Simon … oh, sweetheart, what have they done to you?’ She choked on her own tears. ‘I’m here. I’m not going away. Si …’
The nurse touched her shoulder. The monitors were beeping and flashing, the trauma team swarmed round again. She had to go and she could not explain anything to him. He would not know she had been there. Somehow, that was the worst of all.
It took another hour and a half of waiting, outside, in the canteen, in the visitors’ room, the corridors, before anyone came back, a different doctor this time, then the consultant. Still too young, Cat thought. How could they possibly know?
How ridiculous.
‘We want to put him into an induced coma. You’re familiar with that?’
Cat nodded.
‘It’s the best chance of helping him while the brain swelling goes down a bit. His body is fighting on all fronts and he’s a fit man, but he’s sustained some major traumas.’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything you want to know? I can’t give you much of a prognosis yet, you’ll understand that.’
‘Yes, but … just give me a percentage … just … come on. Chances?’
He thought for a moment. ‘It’s guesswork, pretty much. You know what’s happened to him – you could probably guess as well as I can.’
‘No. You.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘The worry is spinal injury, his arm and possible brain damage, though I’m less concerned about that. The scans didn’t look bad but while there is such a lot of swelling we can’t get the full picture. He’ll almost certainly lose his spleen and one of his kidneys but we don’t want to risk any more surgery for now … we can stabilise all that. I don’t know if the orthopods will hold out any hope for his arm. They’re all attending to RTA victims at the moment but as soon as one can be spared from those they’ll give his arm a proper assessment.’ He put his hand on hers for a second. ‘Listen … he’s not going to be awake for some days … maybe longer. There isn’t any point in your staying – we wouldn’t try and wake him without letting you know in good time so that you or someone else in the family can be here. Go home. Get some rest. And go easy on yourself.’
She watched him go. Back to Simon. Back to the twilight world where he was poised between life and death. Back.
Kieron came towards her.
‘Will you take me home, please?’ she said.