Losing You (23 page)

‘But drinking and driving, son. You could have rung anyone ...’

‘I know. I wish I had. Oh God, Dad, what’s going to happen? Is she all right? Have you heard yet if she’s still alive?’

Russ turned to Jolyon.

‘All I’ve managed to find out so far,’ Jolyon answered, ‘is that they’ve transferred her to the neuro centre at Frenchay.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Russ muttered, the cold clammy hand of fear closing around his gut.

Oliver’s face was grey. He looked about to pass out. ‘I swear I didn’t see her,’ he said hoarsely. ‘One minute the road was empty, the next ...’ His breath caught, and Russ took hold of his shoulders.

‘He’s still in shock,’ Jolyon murmured. ‘Come on, let’s get him somewhere warm,’ and taking Oliver by the arm he started to steer him across the road. ‘Where’s your car?’ he asked Russ.

‘I came by taxi,’ Russ replied. ‘Can you fit us all in yours?’

‘Sure. It’s right over there,’ and using the remote to unlock a large BMW, Jolyon went to open the rear door for Oliver to get in.

‘I take it he’s on police bail,’ Russ said, as Jolyon started the engine.

Jolyon nodded. ‘Once they’ve had the results of the blood test we’ll get a date for the magistrates’ hearing.’

‘What happens in the meantime?’

Jolyon glanced in the mirror as he steered the car away from the kerb. Catching a glimpse of Oliver’s frightened eyes, he tempered his response by saying, ‘To all intents and purposes life goes on as normal.’

Already aware it could probably never be that again, Russ said, ‘Presumably there’ll be some kind of investigation ...’

‘It’s already under way,’ Jolyon confirmed.

Turning to look at his son, Russ decided not to press any more questions on him for now. The boy was drooping with exhaustion and clearly terrified enough without having to deal with the full horror of what he could be facing in the weeks, months to come.

Twenty minutes later they were at Jolyon’s office in the centre of town, and since Oliver had gone to one of the bathrooms to freshen up Russ braced himself for the bottom line. ‘What’s the worst we could be looking at?’ he asked, taking the piping hot coffee Jolyon was passing him.

Going to pour another for himself, Jolyon said, ‘I think we need to take this one step at a time. So far he’s been charged with driving under the influence ...’

‘That’s a given, but whatever happens to the girl, it’s going to impact in a big way.’

Unable to deny it, Jolyon went to sit at his desk.

‘I know you’re hedging,’ Russ said, ‘but I need you to give this to me straight.’

Jolyon’s shrewd eyes came to his. ‘If she doesn’t pull through,’ he replied, ‘they’ll charge him with causing death by dangerous driving.’

Though not surprised, Russ felt the horror of it starting to crush him. ‘And the maximum penalty for that?’

As Jolyon was about to answer Oliver appeared in the doorway, so he merely took a sip of his coffee.

‘I heard the question,’ Oliver said raggedly.

Jolyon’s eyes went to Russ, seeking guidance, while Russ regarded his son, trying to weigh up just how much more he could take. In the end he said, ‘He needs to hear it too.’

‘It would be a custodial sentence of up to five, maybe more years,’ Jolyon said, looking at Oliver, ‘but I ...’

‘Oh God,’ Oliver gasped, dropping his head in his hands.

Going to him, Russ held him up as Jolyon went on, ‘There’s a long way to go before we have to start facing anything like that, and we’re going to do everything we can to make sure we don’t. So now, why don’t you go home and at least try to get some sleep. It’s been a rough night all round. As soon as there’s any news the police will know, and if it changes anything we can be sure they’ll be in touch.’

Chapter Twelve

EMMA WAS PACING
, wringing her hands and wanting to scream in frustration. ‘Can we go and ask someone what’s happening?’ she pleaded. ‘They must have some news by now?’

‘I’ll go,’ Andrews said, getting to his feet.

As the door closed behind him, Emma sank back into her chair and bent over her knees. ‘She’s going to be all right,’ she said determinedly. ‘I can feel it. She’ll get through this, I know she will.’ Her eyes went desperately to Polly. ‘She’s young and strong and has so much to live for. It just wouldn’t be right for her to go now.’

Sitting down beside her, Polly said, ‘Of course it wouldn’t, and she won’t.’

They both looked up as the door opened, and Emma’s heart contracted to see that Andrews wasn’t alone. Then, recognising the man behind him, tall, fair-haired and haggard with shock, she felt so overwhelmed by the reason he’d driven full speed from London to be here that she could say nothing to greet him.

‘Hello, Will,’ Polly said softly.

His eyes seemed angry and dazed. ‘Why are they still operating?’ he demanded, as though Emma should know. ‘They told me she’s still under.’

‘They’re doing everything they can,’ Emma replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

‘But why is it taking so long?’

‘I don’t know. It just is.’

‘Neurosurgery is extremely complex,’ Andrews said quietly.

Will turned to glare at him. ‘We need some answers,’ he barked.

‘We’ll get them,’ Emma broke in angrily. Then, forcing herself to be calm, ‘Will, please don’t make this any worse ...’

‘
Me
, don’t make it any worse,’ he cried heatedly. ‘It was
you
she was staying with.
You
who should have been taking care of her. What the hell was she doing out at that time of night?’

‘She’s eighteen ...’

‘Will, this is pointless,’ Polly interrupted, ‘and you’re really not ...’

‘This has nothing to do with you,’ he snapped. ‘I want to know why she was out at that hour, and ...’

‘What difference does it make now,
why
she was out,’ Emma shouted. ‘She’s fighting for her life, and us fighting in here isn’t helping one bit.’

Seeming to realise the sense of that, he put his face in his hands and tried to calm down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in the end. ‘I just ... Christ, I can’t even think straight.’

‘None of us can,’ Emma told him, ‘but we have to try to for Lauren’s sake, if not for our own.’

Nodding acceptance of that, he dragged a hand through his hair and turned to Andrews. ‘Sorry,’ he said roughly.

Andrews merely nodded.

‘Can I get you some tea?’ Polly offered.

He looked as though he had no idea what tea was. Then, shaking his head, he insisted, ‘I want to know how it happened. Where she was, who hit her, what’s being done about it ...’

Andrews said, ‘Instead of putting Lauren’s mother through it all again, why don’t you come with me and I’ll tell you what I know.’

Will’s eyes went to Emma, accusingly, desperately, then saying no more he turned to follow Andrews out of the room.

Only minutes after they’d gone Emma heard voices outside, and a terrible pounding started in her chest as she waited for a doctor to come into the room, but it was a nurse who opened the door to show Berry in.

‘Oh my dear,’ Berry murmured, wrapping Emma in a crushing embrace. She was neither tall, nor fat, simply ample and in her own ageing way quite enchanting. This morning, however, with not a scrap of make-up to cover the lines on her face, nor the hint of a hairbrush having gone through her bright silvery mop, she looked tired and lacklustre. ‘The nurse told me they’re still operating,’ she said. ‘That’s good, it means she’s fighting.’

Emma nodded as she fought back more tears. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said, resting her head on her grandmother’s shoulder.

‘Oh Emma, of course I would come. Our girl means more to me than my own life, you know that.’ She glanced at Polly and managed a smile. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. At least Emma hasn’t been alone.’

‘Will’s arrived,’ Emma told her.

‘Yes, I saw him with the policeman. They said I could go and join them ... Oh my goodness,’ she slurred, putting a hand to her head.

‘Oh Berry, sit down,’ Emma cried, taking her to a chair. ‘The shock, the drive ... Will should have brought you.’

‘He offered,’ Berry said breathlessly, ‘but I thought I might need my car. I’m sorry, I’ll be fine in a minute, just a little dizzy spell.’

‘I’ll get you some water,’ Polly said.

Taking Emma’s hands, Berry said, ‘I stopped on the way to call your mother. I realised you might not have and she’d want to know.’

Emma’s face was more strained than ever.

‘She’s on her way,’ Berry told her gently.

Emma seemed surprised.

‘You didn’t imagine she wouldn’t come?’ Berry sounded genuinely amazed.

Before Emma could respond the door opened and a tall, lean man with sunken cheeks and birdlike eyes came into the room. His scrubs left no doubt about who he was. ‘Mrs Scott?’ he said, looking at Emma.

Emma was no longer breathing.

‘I’m Nigel Farraday,’ he told her, shaking her hand, ‘the
surgeon in charge of your daughter’s case. I’m sorry I haven’t been in to speak to you before, but I’m afraid there hasn’t been an opportunity until now. The nurse has gone to fetch your husband – Lauren’s father. Shall we sit down?’

Moving as though not in touch with her limbs, or even her mind, Lauren perched on the edge of a chair and didn’t take her eyes off the surgeon, even when Will came in with Clive Andrews.

After introducing himself again, Farraday gestured for Will to join Emma, then sitting down too, he waited for a nurse to usher the others from the room before he said,

‘I’m sure the first thing you’ll want to know is that your daughter has survived the operation ...’

Relief came so fast at Emma that she started to sob and couldn’t make herself stop. Will was rocking back and forth, seeming to want to shake the surgeon’s hand, put an arm round Emma, get up, do something, anything to demonstrate his own relief.

‘Thank you,’ he said jaggedly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you, thank you,’ Emma echoed.

Farraday’s expression remained grave. ‘That’s the good news,’ he said. ‘The rest is, well, I’m afraid the procedure she’s just been through has been extremely tough on her. It was necessary in order to remove a large clot which was applying pressure to the brain stem. There’s still a lot of bruising and swelling, and she remains in a very critical condition.’

Emma was barely taking it all in, she couldn’t yet, because she didn’t know how to deal with it. ‘Where is she?’ she faltered. ‘Can we see her?’

‘They’ll be bringing her up soon,’ he answered, ‘and once the lines have been set you’ll ...’

‘Lines?’ Will interrupted.

‘The nurses will explain what they’re for, but basically it’s the intubation she’s going to need to make up her life-support system.’

Emma’s eyes widened.
Life support?
‘She’s going to make it though, isn’t she?’ she insisted.

Farraday’s eyes softened as they met hers. ‘We certainly
hope so,’ he told her, ‘but I’m afraid these next few days will be critical.’

Russ was too tired and far too stressed to be able to deal with Sylvie rationally for the moment – if there was indeed anything rational about what had happened, and frankly if there was, he couldn’t see it.

After leaving Jolyon he’d brought Oliver home, prepared them both some food which neither of them had had the stomach to eat, and had then sent Oliver off to take a bath and try to get some sleep. Meanwhile, he, Russ, decided to ignore all the messages on his machine and call Fiona to thank her for having his car delivered back.

‘I wish there was something I could do,’ she said, after he’d brought her up to speed with what had happened so far.

‘Thanks,’ he responded, ‘but seems like we’re pretty much in the lap of the gods now, and a damned good surgeon.’

‘At least you have Jolyon on the case. You can’t get any better.’

‘True, but he’s not a magician. Oliver was over the limit, the girl is critically injured, might even die, so what defence does he have? Worst-case scenario, Oliver’s on his way to prison.’

‘You really think it’ll come to that?’

‘Right now I’m failing to see how it can be avoided, and though he won’t admit it, I don’t think Jolyon can either.’

With a tightness in her voice, she said, ‘I’m sorry, but it’s your wife who should be taking the rap for this, not your son.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he replied, ‘but sadly we can’t change the way it is. I suppose I ought to check up on her as I still haven’t heard from her since she drove off last night.’

‘The police went round there though, so you know she didn’t carry out the threat she made to Oliver.’

‘Not then, but who knows what she might have done since.’

With a groan of sympathy she said, ‘This is so hard on you ...’

‘If you’re going to feel sorry for anyone, make it Oliver, or better still the girl and her family.’

‘Don’t worry, they’re all in my thoughts. Do you know her name yet?’

‘You obviously didn’t hear the eleven o’clock news. Lauren Scott. Apparently she’s out of surgery, but still fighting for her life.’

After ringing off, he stood staring down at the answering machine knowing already who all the messages were from, because they’d come through to his mobile too while he and Oliver were on their way home. The only surprise was that it had taken this long for the press to start clamouring for statements. Any time now a gaggle of them would be gathering outside his gates, possibly even attempting to climb walls to try and get a shot of him, or Oliver. This was the real downside of a fame that had expired a dozen years ago, but was now being resurrected for the purposes of sensationalism, another dimension to the story.

Since Charlie clearly hadn’t heard the news, or he’d have been in touch by now, he pressed his elder son’s number into his mobile and went to pour himself a coffee while waiting for the connection. Finding himself diverted to voicemail, he swore under his breath, and left a message for Charlie to call the instant he could.

He wondered if anyone from the press had contacted Sylvie yet. If they had she’d surely have rung him, probably in a panic, so it seemed likely that she wasn’t answering the phone to them either. It would only be a matter of time though, and if she didn’t already know about the accident he probably shouldn’t let her learn about it from a reporter. Not that he felt he owed her any favours, but if she was drunk when she found out there was no telling how she might react.