Losing You (54 page)

‘For heaven’s sake! She only came round half an hour ago. Nobody can tell us anything for certain yet.’

‘Well you call me back when they can. Until then, I’m afraid you’re on your own with this, Emma, because I don’t want to look into her eyes and know she’s asking me why I allowed you to keep her alive. You never had my support for that, and you’re definitely not getting it if she’s any less than the girl she was before.’

Stunned, Emma could only stare at the phone as the line went dead. How could he have responded in such a brutal way? He didn’t seem at all pleased that Lauren had woken up – if anything he’d sounded angry, even outraged by it, as if it was a foregone conclusion that she was never going to make a full recovery. Even if she didn’t, surely all that mattered was that she was alive and with them and able to communicate, if only in a limited way for now.

Enraged by his reaction, and deeply hurt for Lauren, she decided she must banish him from her mind. She simply couldn’t allow him to spoil this major breakthrough by trying to make her see it as a failure, or even worse, as a cruel life sentence for Lauren. Only time could tell them whether her life was going to be worth living, but at least
she, Emma, was giving her a chance. If Will couldn’t do that, then as far as she was concerned he didn’t deserve to be a part of their lives anyway. From now on, if he wanted any news of his daughter he could damned well call up and ask for it, because no way in the world was she going to call him again.

Instead, as a way of erasing the last few minutes, she might just call Oliver Lomax to tell him the good news. He’d want to know, Emma felt sure of it, and he certainly wouldn’t respond the way Will just had. He’d probably be almost as thrilled as she was, and relieved, of course, given the kind of charge he could have been facing if Lauren hadn’t pulled through.

However, she couldn’t call Oliver, because she didn’t have his number, and besides, he might want to come straight away and that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. She’d talk to Clive Andrews tomorrow and get the Lomaxes’ number from him, and meanwhile she’d go and sit with Lauren and pray to a god she was starting to believe in, that her darling daughter really would wake up in the morning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‘OLIVER, WILL YOU
please get a move on, or we’re going to be late,’ Russ shouted up the stairs while grabbing the phone before it rang off the hook. ‘Russ Lomax,’ he barked into the receiver.

The voice at the other end sounded slightly hesitant. ‘Uh, I hope I’m not bothering you, but I wonder if I could speak to Oliver. It’s Emma Scott here, Lauren’s mother.’

Thrown, in fact shocked to his core, Russ rapidly tried to think what to say. Uppermost in his mind was that the girl had died. But would her mother call to tell Oliver that? She might, out of consideration – or vengeance.

‘Are you still there?’ she asked.

‘Uh yes, of course, I’m sorry. If you hold on, I’ll get him.’

Looking up as Oliver came thundering down the stairs, he watched him saunter into the kitchen, all dishevelled dark hair and freshly shaved chin with a couple of nicks. ‘It’s for you,’ he told him, holding out the phone. ‘Lauren’s mother.’

Oliver’s face instantly turned white. Clearly his first thoughts had followed the same route as his father’s. His dark eyes were fixed on Russ as he took the receiver. ‘Hello?’ he said anxiously.

‘Oliver? It’s Emma,’ she told him. ‘I have some good news for you. Lauren’s awake.’

It was a moment before Oliver’s jaw dropped. Then he was reeling, laughing and starting to cry. ‘No way, that’s fantastic. Oh my God, is she OK? Dad, did you hear? Lauren’s awake.’

Russ’s eyes closed as he uttered a silent, fervent thank you to whoever was listening.

‘What happened?’ Oliver was asking Emma. ‘When did she come round?’

‘Last night. All those movements we’ve been feeling, the reflexes, muscle contractions, it seems they were all signs, it was just there was no way of telling for certain, but then last night she actually opened her eyes.’

Oliver was grinning so hard it hurt. ‘That is so amazing,’ he cried. ‘Has she said anything yet?’

‘No, not yet, but she’s definitely communicating. The doctor and physio are both with her at the moment carrying out all sorts of tests, but they have to take their time over them so’s not to wear her out. She’s actually sitting up this morning, well almost, more than she was before.’

Oliver was scruffing his hair in a burst of excitement. Then, suddenly remembering the darker side of it all, his eyes shadowed as he said, ‘Does she ... does she remember anything that happened?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Emma replied. ‘All we’ve asked her so far is if she knows where she is. She told us no with two squeezes of her hand, but the doctor’s explained it to her now. I can’t tell you how much she understood – I think it might take a while before we can get to that level.’

‘Sure,’ he murmured. Then, ‘Can I see her? I mean, I know ... I guess you’d prefer ...’

‘If you want to come I think you should. Maybe not this morning, there’s quite a lot going on, and she’ll probably be tired after, but later ... Why don’t you ring me around three, say? I should be able to tell you then when would be a good time.’

Oliver couldn’t have looked more amazed or thrilled. ‘That’s fantastic,’ he declared, turning to his father. ‘Thank you so much. This is really ... It’s just like ... I swear I won’t get in the way, and if you change your mind ...’ He was lost for words.

‘I should go now,’ she told him. ‘I just wanted to let you know and ... well, thank you.’

Colour rushed to Oliver’s cheeks. ‘What for? I haven’t done anything.’

‘You care, that means a lot.’

‘I really do, Mrs Scott,’ he assured her.

‘Oh Oliver,’ she murmured, ‘thank you for that, thank you so much, and I know you mean it, but we could have a very long journey ahead of us, so I won’t expect you ...’

‘I don’t care,’ he cut in forcefully. ‘However long it takes, I’m going to be there for her, OK? I mean, if you’ll let me, obviously.’

With a catch in her voice she said, ‘We can talk about it. For now, all you have to do is call me later and hopefully it’ll be all right for you to come and see her. But remember, she won’t know who you are, so please don’t be upset about that, and for the time being we won’t talk about the accident, OK?’

‘So who shall we say I am?’

‘Let me think about that.’

‘Cool. You just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. And, Mrs Scott, thanks again for calling, and for letting me ... or saying I can come. If it doesn’t work out today because she’s tired or ...’

‘Don’t worry, if it doesn’t, we’ll make it for another time.’

As he rang off Oliver’s elation was brimming over.

Going to him, Russ wrapped him in a crushing embrace. ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ he said huskily. ‘There aren’t many people in your position who’d even have had the courage to go to see the girl ... To be on terms with her mother now, and to have said the things you just did ... I’m so damned proud of you.’

Though thrilled by his father’s words, Oliver broke away from the embrace, saying, ‘We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.’

Russ had to smile at the new confidence that already seemed to be asserting itself. ‘We already are,’ he told him, ‘but I think once Jolyon knows what kept us he’ll understand.’

Oliver made an attempt at wryness as he replied, ‘It’s not Jolyon we have to worry about though, is it? It’s the person who’s hell-bent on putting me away.’

Senior District Crown Prosecutor Stella Finlay was a large woman in her mid-forties with such a formidable air about her that even Russ, who wasn’t easily thrown by authority,
had to instruct himself not to feel intimidated. As it was, he’d been around the block a few too many times to crumple at the first warning glare, and though this leading lawyer with her untidy mass of crinkled red hair, acute grey eyes and thin lips might want to see him – or more particularly Oliver – starting to cower the instant they walked in the door, she was going to get no satisfaction from Russ. From Oliver she’d probably get it in spades, not only because she was holding his future in her hands (and had made no secret of the fact that she wanted the next few years of it to be blighted by a driving ban at the very least, a stretch inside being preferable), but because Jolyon had warned him on their way in that throughout the proceedings he must show nothing but humility, remorse and a full understanding of the gravity of his situation.

‘Only speak when you’re spoken to,’ Jolyon had instructed. ‘Keep your eyes down when she’s addressing me, but don’t be afraid to look at her when she’s speaking to you. Be clear, honest and above all respectful. As for you, Russ, make sure she doesn’t get up your back, because she has a nasty habit of it, especially when she’s been cornered into something like this by someone like me.’

‘But she’s got to see the sense of dropping the charges,’ Russ had protested. ‘The case has hardly got any traction now with the lost blood, marginal speeding offence and all the special reasons.’

As someone had appeared at that point to show them through to a meeting room, Jolyon had merely slanted Russ a look that seemed to be saying, ‘There are never any guarantees.’

After making the introductions, during which Ms Finlay hadn’t offered the merest glimmer of a smile, Jolyon waited until everyone was seated – himself, Russ and Oliver one side of the table, Ms Finlay on the other – to begin with a thank you for agreeing to meet with them prior to next week’s preliminary hearing.

‘I know you’ll have gone through the detail of this case by now,’ he continued, ‘so you’ll be aware of why we’re asking for all charges to be dropped.’

Her face remained stony as she raised her eyes from the
file in front of her to fix them first on Oliver, then on Jolyon. ‘This really is a bit rich, Mr Crane,’ she stated acidly. ‘Your client was breathalysed twice that evening and on both occasions was found to be over the limit. I don’t believe he’s even tried to deny it.’

‘That’s true,’ Jolyon conceded, ‘but as you know very few drink-drive prosecutions have gone ahead based only on a breath test, and even fewer have succeeded. In this instance, even if the blood sample should turn up at some point in the future, Oliver’s barrister will still mount a defence based on the special reasons and duress of circumstances you see outlined in front of you. You also have Mrs Lomax’s signed statement giving an account of how she called her son that night and ...’

‘Yes, yes, I’m aware of what happened, but we both know there are emergency services, friends, other family members, any of whom could have gone to the rescue, and I presume your client has a phone.’

‘He does indeed, but unfortunately after he received the call he panicked. His only thought was to get to his mother ...’

‘How old are you?’ Finlay barked at Oliver. ‘Twenty-one, I believe, with a university degree, a good upbringing and a presumably sound mind, so you know very well that whatever the circumstances, it is illegal to drive a car when under the influence of alcohol.’

Oliver swallowed loudly. ‘Yes, miss, ma’am,’ he answered croakily.

‘As you pointed out a moment ago,’ Jolyon came in, ‘Oliver has never denied that he was over the limit. However, his only thought at the time was for his mother, who I’m afraid is an alcoholic and therefore, shall we say, unpredictable, to put it mildly.’

Stella Finlay sat back in her chair, regarding Oliver with an uncompromising stare. Unlike many females she was clearly not going to be swayed by his looks, or by his father’s erstwhile fame. Under any other circumstances Russ might have respected her for that – under these, he’d be happy to use whatever influence he and Oliver could muster to bring down her hostility.

Speaking in an accusatory voice, she began, ‘You, young man, drove your
car
into Lauren Scott ...’

‘But not on purpose,’ Jolyon jumped in quickly. ‘It was an accident. No one’s trying to say otherwise.’

‘But if he had
not
committed the crime of driving under the influence then Lauren Scott would not be lying in a hospital bed now, barely holding on to her life.’

‘Actually, she came round last night,’ Jolyon told her hurriedly. ‘Perhaps you didn’t get my latest email. I sent it while we were on our way here. Mrs Scott, Lauren’s mother, rang Oliver herself this morning to break the good news.’

Finlay looked astounded. ‘Mrs Scott rang your client?’ she repeated incredulously.

Jolyon couldn’t help looking pleased. ‘Oliver has been visiting Lauren over the last few weeks,’ he explained. ‘He’s developed a kind of friendship, or perhaps you’d call it understanding, with Lauren’s mother.’

Finlay was glaring at Oliver again, clearly not thrilled at having this extraordinary development land on her without warning. ‘Are you saying you have the family’s permission to visit the girl you struck with your car?’

Wincing at the brutality, Oliver said, ‘Uh, yes, I do now. At first I didn’t, but then I met her mother and Mrs Scott said it was OK to carry on seeing her.’

‘And what exactly do you do when you go to see her?’ Finlay demanded, seeming more perplexed and annoyed by the second.

‘I play her the music I’ve downloaded for her,’ he replied. ‘She’s like really keen on music. She plays the flute and the guitar, piano too actually, and she’s into all kinds of stuff ... Jazz, rap, classical, some country ...’

‘You seem to be remarkably well informed about someone you practically killed,’ Finlay stated cruelly.

As Oliver’s cheeks reddened it was all Russ could do to stop himself slapping the woman down with an attack of his own. However, Jolyon’s advice not to get rattled was holding firm, at least for the moment.

‘I went online to find out about her,’ Oliver explained. ‘I mean, I know that might sound weird, but like we spent
all this time ... Well, it wasn’t that long really, except it felt like hours, waiting on the side of the road for an ambulance to come, and there was like just the two of us, and I was so scared she was already dead, and then when I found out she wasn’t, I felt as though ...’ He broke off and shrugged self-consciously.