Rubbernecker (22 page)

‘How have you been?’ Jackie asked.

‘I’ve been poor,’ said Lexi.

Jackie’s lips went tight and Lexi pointed the stag at Patrick. ‘He thinks my dad was murdered.’

‘
What?
’ said Jackie.

‘He said he needs to insult the living.’

‘
Con
sult,’ said Patrick. ‘To find out why somebody died, you have to consult the living.’

Jackie stared at them both, apparently lost.

‘You’re the living,’ he explained to her. ‘I’m consulting
you
.’

‘What’s this all about murder?’ she said. ‘Your father died because of a car crash, Alex. His car skidded on ice. You know that. You came to the hospital.’

‘But they said he was getting better. Then he just died.’

‘He got pneumonia and that led to heart failure. You’d know that, too, if you’d been there, like I was, twice a day, every day for months. He was so
vulnerable
.’

‘That’s not what Patrick says.’

‘I don’t give a
shit
what Patrick says! He wasn’t there. Who the hell is Patrick, anyway? Why is he here?’ Jackie turned to him now; her voice got louder and her throat was going red.

Patrick guessed she was definitely upset about something.

‘Tell her, Patrick.’

‘Yes,
tell
me, Patrick!’

Patrick said, ‘Can you stop shouting? I can’t think while you’re both shouting.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ snapped Lexi. ‘Patrick found a peanut in Dad’s throat.’

‘
What?
’

‘There was a peanut in his throat. We’re allergic to peanuts.’

‘I know that.’

‘I
know
you do.’

‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’

Lexi shrugged balefully.

Jackie looked at Patrick. ‘How did he—’

‘He’s a medical student—’

‘Anatomy,’ Patrick corrected her.

‘Whatever. He found a peanut during the … thing.’

‘Dissection.’

‘Yeah, during that. Patrick says that’s what killed him, not
pneumonia
.’

‘
Could
have killed him,’ said Patrick, but she ignored him and stood over Jackie.

‘I didn’t even know he’d left his body to science or whatever the fuck it is they do. Is that even
true
?’

Jackie nodded silently.

‘How could you let them just … cut Daddy up?’ Lexi’s voice broke.

‘Why are you shaking?’ Patrick said. She didn’t answer.

Jackie stood up, but didn’t go anywhere. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again. She bit her lip and Patrick saw her eyes go shiny.

‘It was
his
choice, Alex. He made it years before we met. I could only respect it.’

‘Did you give him the peanut too?’

‘Of course not! Don’t be disgusting! Nobody did; he was being fed through a tube.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Lexi. ‘Maybe you got sick of visiting him
twice a day, every day
.’

‘Yes, I got sick of it! I won’t lie. It was horrific. Someone you love gurgling and crying and wearing a
nappy
. The
smell
in that place! I held his hand and stroked his hair and chose his favourite music and he never even knew who I was! I spent two hours a night with him and another two crying in the car park. I cared about Sam every second he was alive, which is more than
you
can say!’

‘You fucking
cow
!’ Lexi hurled the deer against the pink wall. It burst into white shards that rained down on the dog, which leaped to its feet and started to bark.

‘Get out!’ said Jackie.

‘
You
’re the one who should be getting out! This is my dad’s house!
You
’re the fucking gold-digger keeping everything for yourself!’

Patrick felt they were getting off the point. ‘What about the peanut?’ he said, but nobody seemed to hear him.

‘Is that what this is really about?’ said Jackie. ‘The money? Because you’re wrong. We bought this house with
our
money.’

‘And what about
my
money? I would have had it by now if it wasn’t for you!’

‘And you would have drunk it, too!’ yelled Jackie. ‘Sam knew that! We both did!’

‘That’s none of your business!’ Lexi screamed at her.

‘You’re hurting my ears,’ said Patrick, which was true. He covered them with his elbows.

Jackie ignored him. ‘How is it none of my business? You did nothing but make him miserable. Running about God knows where, drinking God knows what, sleeping with God knows who.’

‘It’s
my
life,’ yelled Lexi.

‘You were fourteen! That made it his life, too.’

‘Bollocks. He never cared.’

‘He
always
cared.’

‘He cared before
you
came along.
That
’s when everything went to shit.’

‘I’m sorry your mother died, Alex, but don’t you dare blame me for something that happened before we even met! Our door was
always
open for you. It’s not my fault if you were too blind drunk to find it.’

Patrick stood up. ‘You’re too noisy,’ he said. ‘I’m going.’

Nobody noticed. He left the room and Willow followed him gratefully to the door.

He heard them yelling at each other all the way down the driveway.

When Patrick got home, Jackson and Kim were sitting together on the couch, watching
Grand Designs
.

‘Where’s Lexi?’ asked Kim.

‘With her stepmother.’ He couldn’t be bothered to go into details.

‘Hey,’ said Jackson, ‘have you been wearing my shoes?’

‘Yes,’ said Patrick. ‘But they’re too small.’

‘Not for
me
, they’re not!’

Kim said, ‘Did you find out who murdered Lexi’s dad?’

‘Not yet,’ he said, and went upstairs.

He sat at the window with
Netter’s Concise Neuroanatomy
open in front of him and watched the Valleys Line trains pass through the darkness in short, illuminated worms. He wondered whether Lexi and Jackie were still shouting at each other over the dog’s cowed head. Shouting about love and money, when death was all that really mattered.

Finally, at around midnight, Patrick curled up on his bed. Tomorrow he would have to come up with another way to find out what happened to Number 19.

Consulting the living was a big fat waste of time.

37

IT HAD BEEN
almost a week, but everyone was still talking about Patrick punching the porter.

‘Remember that time he punched me?’ said Scott, with the point of his scalpel in Bill’s cerebellum.

‘He didn’t
punch
you,’ said Rob.

Dr Spicer said, ‘Watch what you’re doing there, Dilip; you’re going to sever the artery.’

Scott shrugged. ‘All I’m saying is he’s the violent type.’

‘He’s not,’ said Meg. ‘The porter grabbed him first, apparently, so that’s why he couldn’t press charges. It was self-defence.’

‘It wasn’t self-defence that time he punched me.’

Rob sighed. ‘He didn’t
punch
you, he
deflected
you. Stop making such a bloody meal out of it.’

Scott sulkily wiggled the scalpel back and forth in the grey matter. ‘He should be in prison, not here with normal people.’

‘Very compassionate,’ said Rob. ‘Remind me never to get the flu around
you
.’

‘Or a boob job,’ said Spicer.

‘Has anyone seen him?’ asked Meg.

‘Patrick?’ said Dilip. ‘No.’

‘I hope he’s OK,’ said Meg.

‘Whatever,’ said Dilip, then sighed. ‘I’m glad we’re almost finished with the dissection; I have never seen such a boring brain.’

Meg wondered idly what Patrick’s brain would look like. She
imagined
thousands of convoluted little boxes with locks and labels on them, and smiled to herself.

‘What’s so funny?’ said Rob.

‘Nothing. Just thinking.’

‘How’s the reading going?’

‘OK, I suppose. I think she likes it.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘I can’t really. Sometimes her hand twitches, but …’ She ended the sentence on a shrug.

‘What’s this?’ asked Spicer, so Meg explained about Mrs Deal.

‘If she’s aware of anything at all,’ Spicer said, ‘it must be the highlight of her week.’

‘Do you think they
are
aware of what’s going on around them?’

‘I’m sure some are,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure that’s always a good thing.’

Meg nodded. She knew what he meant. They’d all done rounds in the neurological ward, shocked into silence by the horror of both the endless inertia of those who might never emerge, and the rage, pain and frustration of some who already had.

‘What are you reading to her?’ asked Dilip, bringing her back to the present.

Meg reddened slightly. ‘Well, I did start
Ulysses
, but neither of us liked that, so now we’re on some rubbish that I found on her bedside table.’ She didn’t tell them that it was
The Da Vinci Code
, or that she could hardly bear to put the book down between sessions, even if it did make her feel intellectually dirty.

She also didn’t tell them that when the book was finished she hoped never to go back to the coma ward.

‘I’m sure it’s not easy,’ said Dr Spicer, as if reading her mind. ‘Good for you.’

‘Shit,’ said Dilip, ‘I’ve gone through the artery.’

Talk of the devil
, thought Meg. At the foot of the long ramp down to Park Place was Patrick.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

‘I got expelled,’ he said.

‘I heard. For hitting the porter?’

‘No, before that.’ He then cut her off before she could ask a follow-up question. ‘You have to do something for me.’

Meg arched a sarcastic eyebrow. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘You have to take photos of Number 19’s mouth and oesophagus.’

Too late she realized her sarcasm had been wasted. ‘I can’t do that, Patrick. We’re not allowed to take phones or cameras into the DR. You know that.’

‘Then give me your code and I’ll do it.’

‘I can’t do that either.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because then I’d be expelled too.’

‘It’s an emergency.’

‘How can it be an emergency? Bill’s already dead. You’ll be asking me to do CPR next.’

‘That would be stupid,’ said Patrick. ‘This is not.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I think he was murdered.’

‘Who? Bill?’

‘Yes.’

‘
Murdered?
’

‘Maybe.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘OK.’ He shrugged.

‘No, I mean, explain to me why you think that.’

‘OK,’ he said again. ‘He was allergic to peanuts and was being fed
through
a tube, but he had a peanut in his throat when he died.’

‘OK,’ said Meg, nodding agreement.

‘That makes no sense unless someone gave it to him,’ said Patrick. ‘Anaphylactic shock could have led to a heart attack, which is what’s been listed as the cause of death, but that’s just
how
he died, not
why
.’

Meg frowned at him. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘I found out his name and spoke to his daughter. She’s inherited the nut allergy; that’s what made me think of it. But when I went to look at the peanut, it had gone. Someone took it and
that
means they’re hiding something. There’s only one dissection class left – then the bodies will be taken away and then I’ll never know what happened. That’s why it’s an emergency. That’s why you have to help me.’

Meg stared at Patrick in amazement. ‘You found out his
name
?’

‘Yes. Samuel Galen.’

‘And you spoke to his
daughter
?’

‘Yes.’ Patrick wondered if she was hard of hearing.

‘How?’

‘It’s not important. I can’t get in to do it. You have to help me.’

Meg was astonished into silence.
How
had he found out the cadaver’s name?
How
had he spoken to the dead man’s daughter? She shuddered at the thought of
that
social interaction. It all sounded crazy and, from anyone else, she would never have believed it. But Patrick was compelling. Not his words, but
him
. His usually blank expression was gone. He was flushed and alive. Even his eye contact was better as he begged her – in his own way – for help.

Looking at him, Meg felt her defences slipping. Still she stalled. ‘What is it you’re looking for?’

‘There were cuts in the mucous membranes of the throat, remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘At the time I thought Dilip had made them because he’s so poor with incisions. But now I think perhaps they were made ante-mortem.’

‘So you think the person who took the peanut could be the same person who put it there in the first place?’

Patrick stared at her so intently that Meg mentally kicked herself for sounding keen and involved when she was loath to be either. She looked into his eyes and felt a little shiver – before she realized that he wasn’t even seeing her. He was looking right
through
her to the solution on the other side.

‘Maybe,’ he said. His face split into the first smile she’d ever seen from him, and Meg knew with a sinking heart that she was about to do exactly what he asked. She made a last-ditch effort to get something out of it for herself.