Losing You (66 page)

Just then Oliver shouted, ‘That is such bollocks and I’m not going to listen ...’

Russ cut him off with words Emma couldn’t hear. Oliver snatched his arm away and started back inside.

‘Emma, we can’t let her do this,’ he cried, his face stripped of colour, his eyes glittering with anger.

‘She’ll come round, I’m sure of it,’ Emma told him soothingly, ‘but for now we need to let her do things her way.’

‘Let me talk to her,’ he implored. ‘I’ll be able to make her see sense.’

‘That’s what I ...’

Stepping in, Maria said, ‘If anyone can, I’m sure you can, Oliver, but she’s feeling exceptionally vulnerable at the moment, so I don’t think we should try talking her into anything she doesn’t feel up to. Apart from going home, of course, but she understands she has to do that.’

Oliver turned to his father as Russ joined them, his whole body seeming ready to burst with frustration.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Russ told him. ‘We just need to be patient.’

‘But Dad, I can’t ...’ He turned sharply away as his voice caught with emotion.

Russ put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Let’s go and get the montage, unless you’d like to take it?’ he said to Emma.

‘No, I think you should hang on to it for now,’ she told Oliver. ‘It’s your surprise, so you’re the one who should give it to her.’

Reaching for Oliver’s hand, Melissa said, ‘I know she really cares for you ...’

‘Sure,’ Oliver said shortly. ‘Come on, Dad, let’s go.’

Understanding his abruptness was to hide his hurt, Emma watched him walk into the dining room and lift the montage roughly from the wall.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Russ said quietly. ‘Or you know where we are if you need to call us.’

Worried and feeling unable to cope with all this, Emma smiled her thanks, and as he went to help Oliver, she turned to Polly and her mother.

‘Shall I go to her?’ Phyllis offered.

‘No, it’s OK, I will. The best thing you can do now is get home before us to take down all the balloons.’

‘We’ll come and help you,’ Polly said to Phyllis. Then to Emma, ‘What shall we do about the neighbours? They’re planning a welcome home of their own.’

‘Really?’ Emma said, surprised. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Nothing big,’ Phyllis told her. ‘Just a bit of a cheer as we come into the street.’

Touched by the kindness and torn as to whether or not she should let it happen, Emma turned to Maria. ‘She might feel differently by the time we get home,’ she said.

‘She might,’ Maria agreed, ‘but if I were you I’d just keep it nice and low-key for today. She’s going to be tired, anyway, after all this emotion, and I’m afraid to say, there’s probably going to be plenty more to come.’

There was no sign of anyone when Emma drove Lauren into the street an hour and a half later, which seemed odd, given how sunny it was. Normally children would be playing cricket on the green, or hopscotch on the pavements, but there was only a glimpse of someone’s pony in
the far field, and the tinny sound of a radio in someone’s back garden. Emma wondered how Lauren was feeling, seeing the street that was her home for the first time in almost six months. If it wasn’t panicking her, and it didn’t seem to be, then it probably felt a bit like a dream. Emma didn’t ask because Lauren had told her when they’d got into the car that she didn’t want to talk. Emma suspected she was already feeling guilty and disappointed with herself for not having said proper thank yous and goodbyes, but she’d left her letters with Maria, and she knew she would always be welcome back for a visit.

Would she ever want to go, or was it soon to become a place, an experience she’d be eager to put behind her?

Heaven only knew how she was feeling about Oliver, but Emma could easily imagine the clenching tightness of loss gripping her heart, while the breathless fear that she might never see him again would be making it hard even to move. Neither of them had mentioned him since Emma had gone back into the room to help her dress, and Emma wondered how he must be feeling now. Angry and upset, of course, perhaps used, certainly rejected, and most likely afraid that Lauren might not change her mind. After all he’d done to prove how he felt, a part of Emma would have liked to shake Lauren for the way she was behaving, yet how could she not understand her daughter’s fears as this next crucial stage of her recovery began?

Phyllis must have been looking out for them, because by the time Emma pulled up her mother was at the kerb ready to help them out of the car. She’d brought most of Lauren’s belongings home in her car earlier, so there was only the wheelchair to get out of the boot, and the crutches from the back seat.

‘Doo yoo-ou think everryone’s watching?’ Lauren whispered hoarsely.

Feeling certain that at least a dozen pairs of friendly but curious eyes were peering from behind blinds and net curtains, Emma lied. ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she said lightly. ‘They’re probably all at work, or in their gardens enjoying the sun. Can you manage?’ she asked, as Lauren swung her feet to the pavement.

Grabbing hold of her mother’s and grandmother’s arms, Lauren hauled herself up and took only one crutch from the pair Phyllis was holding to slot under her left arm. Her face was pale and her eyes seemed larger and darker than usual as they absorbed the strange familiarity of her surroundings.

‘The kettle’s on,’ Phyllis told her as she led the way in through the gate. ‘We’ll have a nice cup of tea, shall we?’

‘What’s that?’ Lauren demanded, stopping dead and glaring at the ramp that had been fitted over the step leading up to the door.

‘It’s for the wheelchair,’ Emma explained. ‘Remember, I told you they were putting it in.’

Her face tighter than ever, Lauren waved away the arm Phyllis was offering, and in a few short, hobbled steps she was inside the house.

After exchanging uneasy glances with her mother, Emma went to get the wheelchair from the boot. Bringing it into the hall, she was dismayed to see Lauren in floods of tears, with Phyllis trying to comfort her.

‘I’mm not getting on that,’ Lauren cried. ‘I’mm not an in ... invalid or an ollld person.’

Since she clearly meant the stairlift, Emma said, ‘OK, let’s just go and sit down for a while, shall we? We don’t have to deal with it now.’

‘I want to go to my room,’ Lauren told her.

Emma looked at her mother again.

Moving forward, Phyllis plonked herself down on the stairlift, fastened the belt and pressed green for go. As she started to rise Lauren turned and buried her face in Emma’s shoulder.

‘You have to watch her,’ Emma whispered. ‘She looks hilarious.’

Reluctantly, Lauren turned back again, and parting her hair she watched her grandmother’s painfully slow ascent to the landing. As a sob of laughter escaped her Emma thought her mother’s little performance had worked, but then she dropped her head and started to cry again. ‘Don wan tooo do it,’ she choked.

‘Well I’m afraid I can’t carry you,’ Emma told her.

‘Going up on my bummm.’

‘Hang on then,’ Phyllis said, ‘I’ll come back down and give you a race.’

To Emma’s relief Lauren seemed up for that, and as they prepared to go, Emma instructed, ‘No stopping and starting, Mum. It’s got to be a proper race and whoever wins ... What shall we have as a prize?’

‘A new brain?’ Lauren suggested.

Emma slanted her a look. ‘Not funny,’ she commented. ‘I know! Whoever wins gets tea at the hotel tomorrow.’

‘You’re suppose to beee taking usss anyway.’

‘Well, then you might get double scones and Earl Grey,’ Emma suggested. ‘Are you ready? Get set. Go!’

To her amazement Lauren was at the top in not much more time than it would have taken her to walk up, while Phyllis was still motoring along like a snail on her special silvery tracks.

‘Well, looks like you’ve got two modes of transport,’ Emma informed Lauren, going to join her. ‘The pensioner’s buggy here, or your bum.’

‘Thanks,’ Lauren said as Emma handed her the crutch. ‘If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down now,’ and taking two clumsy paces to her room she closed the door behind her.

Sighing, Emma turned to her mother who was still only halfway up the stairs. ‘Bring it to the top,’ she said, ‘just in case she decides she wants to come down on it, and then please let’s get that cup of tea.’

Ten minutes later they were in the sitting room discussing everything that was due to happen over the coming days – visits from the community physio, speech therapist and psychologist; an appointment with the local GP, with whom Emma had only registered a fortnight ago; a potential full house at the weekend with Berry, Harry and Jane due to arrive – when an almighty thump from upstairs silenced them. It was followed by another, and another, and afraid of what was happening, Emma raced upstairs, reaching the landing as Lauren yelled, ‘Muuuum! Muuum!’

‘I’m here,’ Emma told her, throwing open the door. She stopped dead in shock. ‘Dear God, Lauren, what have you
done?’ she gasped. The room was in chaos, with drawers upended, the contents of the wardrobe strewn about all over the place, and the sheets torn from the bed.

‘Where is it?’ Lauren demanded savagely. ‘What have ... have you donnne with it?’

‘With what?’ Emma cried.

‘You know what. Mmy journal.’

Emma froze. She really hadn’t expected Lauren to be looking for it as soon as she came in the door; in truth, she’d been hoping Lauren would have no memory of it at all.

‘Where is it?’ Lauren repeated furiously. ‘I wannnt it.’

Trying desperately to come up with the best way to handle this, Emma said crisply, ‘It isn’t here.’

‘What do ... do you mean? Why isnn’t it here? It’s mine. It’s pri ... private.’

‘Indeed it is, but I’m afraid it’s gone.’

‘I don unnnderstand. Who took it? Was it yooo-ou? You don have annny right ...’

Going to her, Emma took her firmly by the shoulders and forced her to sit down on the bed. Unprepared as she was to have this showdown now, she said, since there was clearly no escaping it, ‘After the accident, the police found it in your car. Do you remember that you had it with you?’

As Lauren’s face turned white, her eyes reflected the horror she was feeling. If she had forgotten, it seemed to be coming back to her now.

Emma said, ‘Lauren, I want you to tell me how much you remember about that night. And I don’t mean the accident, I mean where you were before and ... Actually, I think you know what I mean.’

Lauren turned her head away, but not before Emma saw the awful rush of colour to her cheeks. ‘It’s my journal,’ she retorted through her teeth. ‘No one hasss any right to reeead it.’

‘Well, they did.’

Lauren sat stiffly where she was, staring at nothing.

‘That includes me,’ Emma added.

Lauren drew breath to speak, but then her head dropped forward and she started to cry.

Unwilling to show any compassion yet, Emma said, ‘You
remember what’s in that journal, don’t you? You recall everything you did leading up to the accident, and now ... What now? What are you trying to do? Why is it so important that you find it?’

‘It’s not ... not important,’ Lauren wept. ‘I don want to doo anything.’

Dear God, please don’t let her still have a crush on that man. If he turns out to be the reason she doesn’t want to see Oliver again I’ll never forgive her
. ‘I don’t want any more lies,’ Emma said sharply. ‘Nothing you say or do is ever going to make me stop loving you, but I need to trust you and so I need to know if you still have feelings for that man.’

Lauren was crying so hard she could barely speak.

‘Tell me, is that why you wouldn’t see Oliver today ...’

‘Shut up! Shut up!’ Lauren cried, banging her fists on her knees. ‘I would nevvver do that. I hate you for saying it. I love Oliver more thannn anything ...’

‘Then why are you so keen to find the journal?’

‘Because I don want it any more. I don want Oll-ver ever to find it, or annnyone else, like you. But now you’re saying yooo-ou read it, and the police ... Whooo else knooows?’

‘Not Oliver,’ Emma assured her. Now was definitely not the time to admit she’d confided in Russ, in fact there probably never would be a time for that. As for her mother, Emma felt sure Phyllis had already erased what she knew from her memory banks, and should any residue be left, she’d find the appropriate scouring pad to finish off the job. Polly would never let on that she’d seen some of the journal, nor would Mr Gibbs, and thank God she’d never shown anything to Will, though of course he knew of its existence.

‘What about Daddy?’

‘He hasn’t read any of it, but he knows what happened. I think I should tell you now that the man in question,’ she didn’t want to poison the air with his name, ‘has already left the school.’

Lauren drooped even lower as she registered the news. ‘So everybody knowws,’ she wailed, covering her head with her hands.

‘That’s not true. Mr Gibbs and Mrs Barker do, because
they had to be told. And Donna ... You remember Donna, don’t you?’

Lauren nodded wretchedly.

‘Donna’s been grounded since it came to light, and hopefully she’s had no more to do with him. I can’t imagine she has, but I haven’t been in touch with her mother for a while so I’m not sure what’s going on with her.’

‘She’s been mmy friend forevver,’ Lauren sobbed.

‘I know, and there’s no reason why she can’t be again, but you understand, don’t you, that you won’t be living in London any more? You’ll be based here from now on, with me and Granny, and when it comes time to resume your studies we’ll send you to a local college.’

‘Tooo stupid for A levels,’ Lauren growled in frustration.

‘That’s ridiculous and you know it.’

‘Cann’t learn anything new.’

‘Maybe not at the moment, but I’m sure that’ll change.’

‘Don’t wan to dooo music.’

Stifling a sigh, Emma said, ‘We can discuss that when the time comes. Our focus now is to get you well enough to study anything at all.’

Lauren’s head remained down as she registered everything that had been said, and placing a comforting hand on her back Emma started to rub. The best part of the last few minutes was what she’d said about Oliver, but Emma wasn’t going to push that any further for now – heaven knew she’d already dealt with enough for one day.