Fraser's Line (20 page)

‘The thing is,’ he sobbed, ‘unable to control his feelings any more, ‘it’s all my fault. I didn’t take good enough care of him. I had charge of him and I failed him and the family. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.’

‘Fraser, you did all you could. Children can run off, despite our best efforts. But the ultimate responsibility is Sarah’s – she wanted to pass the children on to someone else. When did she ask you?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘My guess is you were a last resort. She wouldn’t have left it to the last moment. Perhaps someone else pulled out. Look Fraser, Sarah and Michael were the parents, and neither of them would assume responsibility for their children. They passed it on, and if they chose someone who could not run to keep up with the children, then there are logical consequences to that.’

Fraser found he was breathing just a little more easily. ‘I’m so sorry to have troubled you with this. I know I shouldn’t have, when you have so much going on. How is everything?’

‘It’s drawing to a close now. Probably only another day, or perhaps two. I think there’ll be a conviction. Anyhow, I’m so glad you rang, and just at this moment, too, when I could speak. I shall think of you, and young George. Stay brave, Fraser. We must believe. I’ll believe if you will.’

‘I’ll try,’ he promised. ‘And thank you so much, Angela. Once again you’ve been my guardian angel! I don’t think I could have managed without speaking to you.’

He went back inside, the seeds of a little more courage planted in his heart, and sat down to wait for news.

At last the doctor stood before him. Fraser waited apprehensively.

‘He’s had a bit of a bump on the head,’ said the doctor, sounding as if all that was needed was a piece of sticking plaster and George would be fine.

Fraser said, ‘He’s alive, thank God.’

‘He’s alive,’ replied the doctor. Now we come to the serious bit, thought Fraser. ‘But he’s badly concussed. He hasn’t come round yet, so we can’t tell the extent of the damage. He’s got some broken bones – ribs, femur – but those will heal, given time.’

What he’s implying, thought Fraser, is that his brain may not. And there may not even be time for his bones to heal.

‘So what now?’ he asked. He wished doctors would say the things you really wanted to hear.

‘We’ve dealt with the broken bones, and we’re moving him to the intensive care unit, where he’ll have 24-hour monitoring. It’s a question of when he regains consciousness.’

Or if, thought Fraser. Oh, please God, when, rather than if.

‘Can I see him?’ he asked.

‘Shortly, when the move has been completed.’ The doctor hesitated. ‘Just be aware that he’s in a critical state, and you won’t see much of him for tubes and other support mechanisms.’

Fraser nodded. ‘I’d like to see him all the same, if I may. Thank you for everything you’ve done.’

He was instructed to go on waiting, and they would call him when they were ready.

A nurse brought him a sandwich. How kind everyone was. The last thing he felt like was eating, but the thoughtfulness touched him. The receptionist came to tell him that there had been a call from the police station, and they would like him to speak to Kate. The receptionist showed him where he could take the call.

‘Grandpa!’ said Kate. ‘Is it my fault?’

‘How can it be?’ asked Fraser. ‘I was the one who was supposed to be looking after the two of you, and I let him run off.’

‘But all I did was call out to him!’ Kate was very agitated. ‘I tried to make him stop by shouting at him! I should have run after him and made him stop. It’s all my fault! And now George is going to die, and it’s my fault!’

He did his best reassure the little girl. He said she did the right thing by staying with him – it would only have made things worse if she had run off too. He tried to absolve her from the responsibility which she had assumed, and to reassure her about George. He told her George was not going to die, and was being given excellent treatment, and they must wait patiently. She wanted to come and see her brother but Fraser said it wasn’t possible yet, because they were still attending to him. The WPC came on the line and said Kate was being very good, and very brave, but she was worrying that somehow she had been to blame, and they were all trying to keep her calm. She also reported that there had been calls from the mother to say when she would arrive – and it would probably be another half an hour, and she would go the hospital first. Apparently Sarah had not been able to get hold of Michael at the time, but she had since done so, and he was on his way down also.

When he had finished the call the receptionist asked him how he was. Fraser, who was still feeling numb, tried to think about it, and suddenly had the overwhelming conviction that he must not lose this physical closeness to George until the child did regain consciousness. He explained this to the receptionist and asked her if she knew of somewhere he could stay, near the hospital, for a night or two – or however long it took. She proved most helpful, and finding the name of a small hotel nearby, telephoned and spoke to the proprietor, who confirmed that a room was available. Fraser then spoke to this Mrs Stanbury explaining what the situation was, and she said Fraser could come at whatever time was convenient for him, and she offered her best wishes for his grandson’s recovery. She said she might even be able to find him a spare pair of pyjamas and a toothbrush.

The next ordeal would be seeing Sarah, and Michael. He went back to the room that was becoming all too familiar. About half an hour later Sarah arrived.

‘Oh, Sarah!’ He held out his arms and she went to him. He clasped her close, and thought what a pity it was that it took this crisis for such an embrace to be possible. Normally a peremptory peck on the cheek was all he got.

‘I’m so sorry, Sarah,’ he said through tears. ‘I’m so desperately sorry. I’ve let you down in the worst possible way. I feel so dreadful.’

She pulled away from him. He was shocked by her white, tear-stained face, and the anguished emotions that he saw there.

‘Don’t say that, Dad. Don’t say that. It’s my fault. I should never have pushed you into doing it. I got let down by Maria, and Joanna refused to help, and I didn’t know where else to turn. I’ve let my business life get so important I can’t even take a day off for my children! Well, whatever happens, I’m going to make some changes. I seem to have lost sight of my priorities and I’m going to have a rethink – but you must not blame yourself. Is there any more news?’

At that moment a nurse came to tell them they could come with her and see George. Clutching Fraser’s arm, Sarah struggled to control her emotions and together they followed the nurse, until they were standing by George’s bedside. On the way the nurse had told them not to be alarmed by the array of machines and wires and tubes that were involved – these were all part of the monitoring process. It was a good thing she had warned them, because the sight of the apparatus was daunting, and George’s head was so swathed in bandages that there was very little of him to be seen. His eyes were closed, he looked deathly pale, and the swelling under the blankets told of his plastered leg.

In a small voice Sarah whispered, ‘I love you, George.’

They were allowed to stay for a short while, and then they went back downstairs. Fraser told Sarah of his plan to stay nearby, and she thought that was a wonderful idea.

‘I must take Kate home. I’ve got to try and make life proceed as normally as possible for her. It would be so good to know that you were on the spot.’

A few minutes later Michael arrived. Fraser was pleased to see how the parents clung together, and felt that such solidarity would at least give them both some strength. Sarah went off to collect Kate – Lydia, her colleague, had been patiently sitting in the car all this time – and Michael went to see George. Fraser decided to wait until he returned before going off to find his accommodation.

When Michael came back he looked shaken. He sat down with Fraser, and for a while couldn’t speak. Then he said,

‘I want you to know that neither Sarah nor I blame you for what has happened. We blame ourselves, both of us. It was my fault as much as it was Sarah’s. We should never have given you the responsibility. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all this. You’ve recently lost your wife, and your mother – and now there’s this crisis for you to bear. I know how fond you are of the little lad.’

‘Thank you, Michael, for saying that. Of course, I do feel dreadfully responsible, I can’t help it. We must just go on believing. That’s what we have to do.’

Michael nodded. He seemed to want to say more, but didn’t do so.

‘Sarah and I will probably take turns to come down – I think it’s important we don’t leave Kate.’

‘About Kate,’ said Fraser. ‘I think you should know that she feels responsible, too. She shouted to George to stop, but she thinks she should have run after him. You and Sarah will have to try and make sure she doesn’t go on carrying that burden on her tiny shoulders.’

‘Thank you for telling me,’ said Michael. ‘There’s been too much emphasis on fault and who’s to blame in our house. I’ll make sure we talk to her about it.’

There’s was nothing more he could do. Fraser decided it was time to leave the hospital, and try and get some sleep. He would return early, and await any developments the next day.

To Fraser’s surprise the first person on the scene the next morning was Joanna. After a pleasant breakfast at The Poplars – which he had not been able to do justice to – Fraser had made his way straight to the hospital, where he reported to Reception. The girl contacted the Intensive Care unit for an update, and he learned there was no change in George’s condition. He still lay in a coma. Fraser went to say ‘Good morning’ to George, and then sat in the small waiting room, where he had spent so much time the previous day. It was little more than 9.30 am when Joanna had arrived.

Not only was Fraser taken aback to see her there so early, but he was also astonished at her appearance. He face was white and strained, and her eyes puffy. She looked as it she had been awake all night.

‘Joanna! What are you doing here so early?’ Although the twins were fond of their Aunt, and she, for her part, took a mild interest in them, Fraser wouldn’t have said there was a special relationship between them. Of course what had happened was dreadful, but he couldn’t understand why she looked quite so shaken.

‘I had to come,’ she said. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Is there any news?’

‘No change,’ said Fraser. ‘That’s what they told me this morning – I’ve been to see him.’

‘Are you going to stay here all the time?’

‘Yes,’ he said – for as long as it takes.’

‘Why on earth are you doing that? Surely it’s for Sarah and Michael to arrange to be here all the time. Why should you do it?’

‘Because I want to,’ replied Fraser, ‘and because I love the child. And also because I feel very much to blame.’

‘You are not to blame!’ Joanna’s voice was rising. ‘How can it be your fault when George is not your responsibility? You should never have been asked to look after the twins. It wasn’t fair to ask you. Sarah should have been looking after them. They’re her children!’

Her vehemence was disturbing. Fraser couldn’t understand why her feelings were so strong.

‘I gather Sarah had an important business appointment, and so did Michael. I believe Sarah asked you, as well, but you couldn’t help either. I thought perhaps I could manage, if I took them out for the day, but it all went horribly wrong.’

‘How can Sarah be too busy to look after her own children? Why on earth did she have them if she doesn’t want to look after them?’

Joanna was trembling and her words were coming out in bursts. She looked thoroughly wretched.

‘Steady on,’ said Fraser. ‘Lots of mothers work, and cope with bringing up children. Sarah’s not alone. I suppose they feel they’re doing the best they can for their families, by bringing in a good income. Anyway, if the wife is working the father must play a full role as well. Apparently Sarah couldn’t get hold of Michael for some time, until … well, after it happened. I don’t know where he was.’

‘He was with me.’

‘What? What on earth was he doing with you?’

‘Having mad, bad, wonderful sex!’ Joanna glared defiantly at her father. Startled, and uncomprehending, Fraser started to say, ‘Whatever do you mean? Surely he …’ but Joanna interrupted, and it all came out in a rush, like wine pouring from an uncorked bottle.

‘Michael and I were having an affair. Only it didn’t feel like an affair. It felt like healing for both body and soul, like finding an outlet for the frustrations of unfulfilled lives, like revenge – yes revenge – against a self-righteous, smug sister who thinks she’s so marvellous at everything she does, and who hasn’t the slightest idea what all her controlling schemes are doing to her family. That was my motivation – and Michael – poor love, he just wanted to be wanted, wanted because he is a man, wanted because he is who he is, wanted for everything he could bring to the marriage, and not feel side-lined into becoming a small cog in Sarah’s constantly spinning wheel.’

Fraser was flabbergasted. The intensity of the emotions caught him by surprise, and coming, as they did, at a time when he was feeling raw with the pain of worry and fear for his grandson’s life, he felt himself reeling under it, unable to grasp what he was hearing, unable to respond.