Losing You (64 page)

Charlie’s reply to that:
She has to hit rock bottom first and don’t know if she’s done that yet. How are things with Lauren? Will call tomorrow
.

Reading how dismissive they were of their mother’s words was almost as tragic as sensing the desperation in hers, yet they’d obviously discussed her further when Charlie had rung, for Oliver to have made the comment about it being ‘good news about Mum’.

‘Have you texted her back?’ Russ asked, finding no sign of a message.

‘No, we thought you’d probably done it.’

‘She didn’t text me,’ Russ told him, picking up the phone to call Olivia, ‘so please reply to her text and wish her well. And tell Charlie to do the same.’

‘’She’ll probably have forgotten she even sent it by now,’ Oliver protested.

‘Oliver, just do it,’ Russ barked. ‘I know things have been difficult between you, and there’s still a lot to be resolved, but she’s your mother and right now, if she is back in the clinic intending to do her best, she needs to know she has your support.’

Ten minutes later Olivia rang back, sounding overwhelmingly relieved as she confirmed that Sylvie was indeed back in rehab. ‘I can’t believe that none of us even thought to try there,’ she laughed uneasily. ‘Oh Russ, I really hope she means it this time.’

‘So do I,’ he murmured, but he knew he wasn’t holding out any more hope than she was.

‘Thanks for meeting me at such short notice,’ Emma said, as Russ joined her on the riverside terrace at the Severnshed cafe the next morning. Spread out in front of them the harbour was glistening merrily, while the flowers in their hanging baskets seemed almost ready to bust into bloom. Summer really was on its way. ‘It’s not actually that urgent,’ she confessed, ‘but I wanted to talk to you before next week’s farewell tea.’

‘Of course,’ he said, raising a hand to summon a waiter as he sat down, ‘and by the way, it looks as though I can make it, so thanks for the invite.’

Emma grimaced as she smiled. ‘I hope you’re still going to feel the same once I’ve told you why we’re here.’

He looked surprised and curious, and noticing how the lines round his eyes had deepened even since the last time they’d met, she came close to backing away from burdening him with any more problems. ‘How’s your wife?’ she asked, wanting to get as clear a picture as she could of what he might be going through.

Though his expression turned ironic, she wasn’t fooled. He was as concerned about her as ever. ‘I’m happy to tell you,’ he replied, ‘that she’s back in the clinic after going missing for almost a week. As it turned out she was actually at the clinic the whole time, but had neglected to inform any of us of the sudden epiphany that had transported her there. Since then, she’s texted the boys to tell them she’s determined to get well this time, which can only be good news, but, to quote Oliver, we’ve heard it all before, so we wait to see.’ He sighed as he rubbed his temples between thumb and forefinger. ‘Frankly, even if she does manage to get it under control, there’ll still be the shambles of our marriage to sort out, and I’m afraid trying to get her to accept that it’s over for me will just set her back on the slippery slope.’

Feeling for his helplessness and getting a sense of how in limbo he felt, Emma tried, while they ordered their coffees, to come up with another, happier, reason for why
she’d asked to see him. Nothing was springing to mind, however, and the real issue had to be addressed.

‘Speaking of troublesome spouses,’ he said as the waiter left, ‘has Lauren’s father been in touch again?’

Emma shook her head. ‘Not with her, thank goodness,’ she replied, ‘but unfortunately I’ve had several emails from him myself, which more or less brings us to what I want to talk to you about. He thinks Lauren should have compensation for her injuries, and while the last thing I want is to cause a rift between our two families, particularly between Lauren and Oliver, I’m afraid in this instance I can’t disagree with him.’

Russ’s eyes were intently on hers, as he said, ‘And no more should you. Lauren deserves every penny she can get, especially when you have no idea what the long-term effects of her injuries might be.’

Not wanting to think about seizures, or personality disorders, or a limp that might permanently alter her daughter’s lightness of step, Emma said, ‘He’s talking about suing you personally, but of course that would be insane unless ...’ She regarded him uneasily. ‘Please tell me Oliver was insured.’

With a comforting smile he said, ‘Yes, he was, and is, so you must seek a full and proper settlement. It’s why we have insurance, and why we pay such high premiums, especially at Oliver’s age.’

More relieved than she could put into words, Emma said, ‘I’m so glad you’re seeing it this way, but I’m worried about it causing a problem between Oliver and Lauren. He might not be able to get insurance again after ...’

‘Emma, listen,’ he interrupted softly, ‘he’s lucky to have a licence, and indeed his freedom, never mind insurance, and anyway, there’ll always be someone out there who’ll give him cover, so please don’t worry about him. Just do what you have to do, safe in the knowledge that anyone in your shoes, including me, would do the same.’

Wanting to squeeze his hand in gratitude, but afraid it might convey more than either of them was comfortable with, she said, ‘Thank you for being so understanding. I assure you I’ll do everything I can to keep it out of court,
because we really don’t need your insurance company’s lawyers throwing Lauren’s past up as a way of minimising the payout. Whatever they offer, provided it’s reasonable, will be acceptable, because in the end it’s only money, and their relationship is far more important.’

‘Our friendship too, I hope,’ he replied, gazing into her eyes again.

Feeling herself starting to blush, she said, ‘Yes, of course, our friendship too.’

Chapter Thirty-Three

THE DAY HAD
finally dawned for Lauren to come home. Emma had hardly slept all night, fraught with worry and carried away by excitement. By the look of her, as she emerged from the bedroom just after six, Phyllis hadn’t fared much better.

By seven they’d given up on breakfast, remade Lauren’s bed, and packed all of Phyllis’s belongings ready to transport them along to Mrs Dempster’s, where she was going to be staying until her rented house was ready next week.

‘I think I’ll just have another quick clean round,’ Phyllis declared, getting out the dusters, ‘we want to make sure everything’s spick and span ready for when our girl comes in.’

Leaving her to it, Emma opened her laptop to plough through her outstanding emails, all linked to the festival. Though she was more or less on top of it all, there was still plenty of time for things to go wrong, and, albeit in a small way, something did virtually every day. It was to be expected, though, and since there was nothing in her inbox to raise her blood pressure, she abandoned the computer after an hour and went to find her mother.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Phyllis said, looking up from the seat of the stairlift she was polishing. ‘Have you had a go on this yet?’

Emma gave a laugh of surprise. ‘No. Why, have you?’

‘Of course. I was here when they installed it, remember, they had to show me how it works. It’s very impressive.’

‘You only have to press a button, don’t you?’

‘More or less. It’s going to be very handy for getting heavy stuff upstairs.’

‘You mean like you?’

Phyllis laughed. ‘Yes, I guess like me,’ she admitted. ‘Or Berry when she’s had one too many. Do you think Lauren will use it?’

Emma’s head went to one side as her insides did a flip. ‘Let’s put it this way,’ she said, ‘it’s providing her with a big incentive to manage the stairs on her own, because she says she doesn’t want Oliver seeing her in it. He, typically, can’t wait to have a go.’

Chuckling fondly, Phyllis went to put away her dusters, and after making two much-needed cups of tea she carried them through to the sitting room, where Emma was starting to pump up the dozens of welcome-home balloons she’d bought the day before.

Gratefully picking up her tea, she glanced at her mother as she said, ‘Are you feeling nervous about today?’

Phyllis’s eyebrows rose as she nodded.

‘Me too,’ Emma confessed. ‘I’m not entirely sure why ... Well, I suppose it’s because I want everything to go perfectly, and her to be happy, and I’m sure she will be. But I have to remember that Sam, her psychologist, warned me that it could take her a while to adapt to being at home again.’

‘She’s looking forward to it, though,’ Phyllis reminded her. ‘She’s already got everything packed and told us what she wants for tea tonight.’

Emma smiled. ‘It’s a pity in a way that Oliver’s not joining us, but I understand her not wanting him to see her struggling with things at first.’

‘As if he hasn’t seen her struggling already.’

‘Yes, but that was there, and this will be here, where she wants everything to be the way it was before.’

‘It will be soon enough.’

Knowing how unlikely that was, and becoming increasingly worried about how this new stage of Lauren’s recovery was going to go, Emma finished her tea and left her mother pumping balloons while she took herself back upstairs to shower in the newly adapted bathroom. Here handles had been attached to the walls in strategic places, a special non-slip floor had been laid and the step into the cubicle had been lowered. It created a kind of wet-room
effect, which Emma suspected Lauren would like once they were able to remove all aids to her disabilities, and she must keep reminding herself that that time wasn’t too far away. Physically Lauren was doing very well indeed: she was moving around on crutches far more often than in a wheelchair, and her overall muscle tone was almost as good as new. Recently she had complained of headaches, which was worrying, but the doctors were putting it down to anxiety about going home, and Emma was doing her best to accept that. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering what the anxiety might trigger.

It was going to be like this for a long time, her mother had gently reminded her last night; there was even a chance that the day would never dawn when they didn’t fear that any little ache or pain, tantrum or excessive tiredness was the first sign of a new, delayed reaction to her injuries. They couldn’t even be sure that her normal life expectancy hadn’t been reduced because of them, though not one doctor had warned that it might be. On the contrary, their optimism for her future was growing all the time: the speech and language therapist was confident that she’d be speaking more or less normally by the end of the summer, and her physio anticipated a couple of crutches flying over Bristol in more or less the same time. What the consultant neurologist had advised both Emma and Lauren to prepare themselves for, however, was the possibility that some of Lauren’s learning skills had become impaired. This was already manifesting itself in the way she was able to read and, albeit haltingly for now, play the music she knew, while finding herself unable to take in, or perform anything new.

So far the frustration of this hadn’t seemed to hit Lauren as hard as Emma might have expected, though it had certainly raised her temper at times, such as the instance when she’d thrown her flute across the room, and another occasion when she’d strummed her guitar so violently that Oliver had been forced to wrest it away before she injured her fingers. Most of the time, however, she seemed utterly and unshakably determined to prove the doctors wrong by focusing her whole attention on a few bars of an
unfamiliar piece, in an effort to understand them and play them from memory. Her success to date had been minimal, but what seemed to be helping were the lessons she’d started to give Oliver on keyboard and guitar.

It simply wasn’t possible to know what they might be facing in the coming months or years, but, Emma knew, that didn’t make them any different from anyone else. Nobody, rich or poor, healthy or sick, young or old, had been handed a list of guarantees about their futures, and though not everyone had a brain injury to contend with, there were plenty who had far worse handicaps or challenges to overcome. The only way forward was to take each day as it came, confident that whatever problems cropped up she’d find a way to deal with them.

‘Are you OK?’ Phyllis asked, as Emma finally emerged from the bathroom.

Seeing her mother gliding up the stairs on the Stannah lift with a pile of fresh towels, Emma couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she assured her. ‘I was just thinking I ought to pop over to the hotel before we go to collect her. Hamish knows what’s happening today, so I shouldn’t be gone for long. What time did Polly say she was getting here?’

‘She’s not coming here. She and Melissa are meeting us at the centre at two.’

Remembering that was the arrangement, Emma said, ‘And we’re sure the wheelchair folds up small enough to get it into my car?’

Phyllis frowned. ‘Well, it has the last dozen times we tried it, so unless it’s found a way to grow ...’

Emma playfully rolled her eyes. She was receiving her mother’s message loud and clear: she had to lighten up, or she’d be in danger of passing her nerves on to Lauren and that could easily turn into a disaster. The best thing she could do now was try to tap into her excitement and forget about everything that could go wrong. It was a waste of energy trying to deal with imaginary catastrophes.

She wanted to thank her mother again for being here, but she’d said it so many times now that the words seemed to be wearing themselves out. Her gratitude, however, was still immense, because she knew she really wouldn’t have
got through any of this without her. The odd thing was, she seemed more at ease with her mother now than she did with Lauren; however, there were still moments when memories of how they’d got things wrong about one another created a certain awkwardness. She’d wondered, several times, if she should be feeling guilty about her father’s tragic accident, but though a part of her was desperately sad and even angry with the three-year-old who’d made him go out into the storm, she knew it was nonsense to blame a child so young. Her mother had found that out the hard way, and it had taken what had happened to Lauren to start straightening things out again.