Swimming Pool Sunday (11 page)

‘I was wondering whether you would allow me to have a look at the swimming-pool where Katie was hurt yesterday,’ he said, in grave tones. ‘Since I wasn’t actually there, I’d just like to see it for myself …’ Ursula’s face crumpled slightly.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘Poor Katie. Do you know how …?’

‘She’s still unconscious, I’m afraid,’ said Cassian. He began to lead the way round the house, and Ursula followed him timidly, feeling that this seemed a little wrong, but not quite sure why.

When they got to the pool, Cassian made his way straight to the diving-board. He looked at Ursula.

‘This is where she slipped?’

‘Yes,’ said Ursula, in a distressed voice. ‘I can hardly bear to look.’ There was a pause. ‘Actually,’ she amended, ‘I’m not sure whether she actually slipped …’ But Cassian didn’t seem to be listening. He was bending down and running a finger along the surface of the board.

‘How old is the pool?’ he said.

‘Well, I don’t really know,’ said Ursula. She looked around vaguely. ‘It was here when we moved in, and that was over twenty years ago.’

‘The diving-board too?’

‘Well, yes,’ said Ursula. She looked at the diving-board and shivered. ‘I’d like to get rid of the horrid dangerous thing.’ Cassian looked up sharply.

‘Why dangerous?’ Ursula looked at him in puzzlement.

‘Well, dear,’ she said gently. ‘Katie had her accident trying to dive off it, you know, and I believe professional divers quite often have accidents too.’

‘Yes, but you said
this
board was dangerous,’ persisted Cassian. ‘Why would this particular board be dangerous?’ Ursula looked at him confusedly.

‘Is it?’ she said. ‘I don’t think it is, really.’ Cassian gave up. He stood up and looked around.

‘Do you remember how many people were here yesterday?’ he asked conversationally. Ursula screwed up her face.

‘I suppose … about a hundred,’ she said. ‘I could tell you if we’d counted the donations, but we haven’t yet. It didn’t seem, somehow …’ She broke off and clasped her hand to her mouth, her eyes shining slightly. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘The money must go to Katie. And we must start an appeal. We can begin at the church tonight.’ She looked at Cassian expectantly, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

‘And who was supervising the children?’ he said.

‘Well,’ said Ursula slowly, ‘no-one was actually
supervising
them. But they were all here with their parents, you know, and there was always someone watching them. Louise was watching Amelia and Katie for quite a long time, I remember, and then I watched them for a bit …’ She broke off and looked at him, tears bright in her eyes.

‘You know, I find this rather distressing,’ she said. ‘Would you mind if we went inside?’ She paused. ‘Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee. The others should be back soon and you can chat to them.’ She regarded him sympathetically. ‘You must be terribly upset.’

Meredith and Alexis arrived back at the house to find the kitchen empty and the back door open.

‘I wonder where …’ began Meredith.

Then they heard Ursula’s voice from outside, saying, ‘Ah, that sounds like them!’

She appeared at the back door, looking a little flustered. Meredith opened her mouth to speak, then stopped in surprise as she saw, hovering behind Ursula, the unlikely figure of Cassian Brown, wearing an immaculate suit and carrying a dark heavy-looking briefcase. Her initial temptation was to ask what the fuck he was doing there, but instead she took a step forward and smiled at Cassian. He beamed charmingly back, and nodded his head politely towards Alexis with a smooth deferential courtesy which Meredith, in her mind, labelled creepy.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘We have met before. I’m Meredith.’

‘I remember very well,’ said Cassian. ‘The artist.’ His eyes briefly met Meredith’s, and to her astonishment she felt herself staring back at him, unwillingly mesmerized by his deep dark gaze. Briskly, she tore her attention away. ‘And this is our friend Alexis Faraday …’ Suddenly she interrupted herself. ‘Is there some news about Katie? Is that why you came?’ Cassian shook his head gravely.

‘Cassian wanted to have a look at the swimming-pool,’ put in Ursula.

‘But I’m afraid I’ve got to go now,’ said Cassian smoothly. ‘Thank you very much for your kindness.’

He held out one hand to Ursula. She hesitated, then took it, smiling falteringly back at him with the foolish gaze of a fascinated rabbit. Meredith watched Cassian distrustfully, and felt a sudden obscure need to protect Ursula. But against what? A young man with mesmerizing eyes?

They all watched as Cassian made his exit out of the kitchen door, and listened in silence as his feet crunched away on the gravel of the drive. When the sound had faded to nothing, Ursula looked at Meredith with an animated expression on her face.

‘I’ve had an idea,’ she said. ‘We should give all the donations from yesterday to Katie, and we should start an appeal.’

‘Good idea, Ursula,’ said Meredith vaguely, but her face was still wary. ‘What exactly did that guy Cassian want?’ she asked.

‘To look at where poor Katie had her accident,’ said Ursula. She frowned. ‘Something like that.’

‘Who is he?’ said Alexis. He screwed up his face in thought. ‘I’m sure I know him from somewhere.’

‘Louise Kember’s lover,’ said Meredith succinctly.

‘Now, Meredith,’ chided Ursula, ‘we don’t know that.’

‘But why do I recognize him?’ said Alexis. ‘Have I met him?’

‘Well,’ said Meredith, ‘he’s a lawyer. Maybe he hangs out in the same joints you do.’

‘A lawyer?’ said Alexis. He looked at Ursula’s innocent expression and his face darkened slightly. ‘Did he tell you why he wanted to look at the pool?’

‘Well,’ began Ursula, ‘no, not really. He just said that it was because he hadn’t been here yesterday. I thought he was probably very upset.’

‘He didn’t look very upset to me,’ observed Meredith. ‘He looked …’

‘You didn’t say anything to him,’ interrupted Alexis, ‘did you, Ursula? Anything about the accident?’

‘Well, no,’ said Ursula. ‘I mean, yes.’ She looked from Alexis to Meredith with puzzled eyes. ‘What do you mean? Is anything wrong?’

‘No, nothing,’ said Alexis, quickly. ‘I hope not.’

Later on, as Meredith came up the stairs, she heard a voice from Hugh’s study. It was a subdued voice, and it was saying, ‘Shit.’ She gently pushed the door open. There was Alexis, standing at Hugh’s open desk, holding some sort of brochure open in front of him.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Meredith lightly. ‘Hugh owe you
money?’ Alexis whipped round and gave Meredith a rather hesitant smile.

‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ he said, in a voice that wasn’t quite cheerful. He quickly put the brochure back in a drawer and shut it. Meredith stared at him sternly.

‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it? What? Is Hugh’s business in trouble?’

‘No, honestly, Meredith,’ said Alexis. ‘I was just … just checking something.’ He began to move towards the door. ‘Now,’ he said, giving her a charming crinkled smile, ‘how about some Meredith-strength coffee to set me up for the rest of the day?’

He took her arm, and as he did so, she felt a sudden foolish tingle of pleasure. But even as she allowed Alexis to lead her down the stairs; even as she glimpsed, with a pang of delight, the reflection of the two of them together in the landing mirror, she could feel a faint web of anxiety anchoring itself throughout her body, tugging gently at her thoughts and causing her face to wrinkle with an unspecified alarm.

Cassian arrived at the hospital at four o’clock. He had spent much of the day loitering in the village grocery store, the post office, outside the church and in The George. And by the time he arrived at the hospital, he had talked to over twenty people in the village about the accident, carefully taking notes and writing down names after each conversation.

As he entered the ward where Katie lay, he adopted a sober expression and looked around gingerly. It was a very small, very quiet ward, with only four beds, all shrouded, to some extent, by floral curtains. One bed was completely shrouded, and from it came the sound of murmurings, then a small cry of pain. A nurse in a blue uniform appeared from behind the curtains, carrying a bowl of something. Cassian averted his eyes.

‘Cassian!’ A faltering voice attracted his attention. It
was Louise, looking up from where she was seated beside Katie’s bed.

‘Louise,’ said Cassian, in smooth sympathetic tones. She looked, he thought, absolutely terrible; her face was pale and suddenly seemed much older than before; her eyes were bloodshot; her hands were wringing anxiously together.

Then he glanced down at Katie, and his stomach flipped over unpleasantly. Katie’s head had been partially shaved; her tiny white face was obscured by a tube; every bit of her seemed connected to one of several television monitors, along which green lines were merrily flickering. On the wall beside her high clanking metal bed was a laminated chart, labelled Glasgow Coma Scale.

‘How is she?’ he asked. Louise swallowed.

‘She’s still in a coma, but it isn’t as deep as it was, apparently.’ She ran a hand distractedly through her hair. ‘The blood clot’s gone, and they scanned her this afternoon and, so far, no more clots have formed. They were pleased about that.’ She looked at Cassian beseechingly. ‘It could be a lot worse,’ she said, as though to reassure herself.

Cassian stared at Katie, unconvinced, and gave a little shiver.

‘Perhaps’, he said, ‘we could go and have a cup of coffee? Is there a canteen or something?’

The hospital corridors were warm and pastel-coloured, and reminded Cassian of the inside of a smart motorway service station. An impression which was borne out further when they reached the hospital’s Four-Grain Eaterie and were given, along with their cups of coffee, a questionnaire to fill in on aspects of the menu, service and decor.

Louise took a sip of coffee and winced.

‘I’ve drunk so much coffee today,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’ve done. Sit with Katie and drink coffee.’ She took
another sip. ‘I keep talking to her, and singing to her, and rubbing her feet, and none of it does any good.’ She looked at Cassian. ‘She could be in a coma for weeks!’ Her voice was trembling. ‘Or months! I mean, she could, couldn’t she? What if she never wakes up?’

Cassian looked at Louise silently for a moment. Then he reached out, put her coffee cup down, and took her hands in his.

‘You mustn’t think like that,’ he said. ‘You must think positively. She might wake up any moment.’

‘I know,’ faltered Louise, ‘but …’ Cassian interrupted her.

‘On the other hand,’ he said solemnly, ‘there’s no point in denying the facts. Katie has been badly hurt. We don’t know when or how well she’s going to recover.’ Cassian clasped Louise’s hands a little more tightly and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘And I believe’, he continued, in a low sincere voice, ‘that it’s up to you and Barnaby – and even me –’ he dropped his eyes modestly downwards, ‘it’s up to all of us to do as much for Katie as we can. Whatever that means.’

Louise gazed back at him with a worried, uncomprehending expression.

‘We’re … we’re doing everything we can,’ she faltered. ‘Barnaby’s coming along as soon as he’s finished work, and then we’re going to the special service they’re holding at the church. And the doctors have said all they can do now is wait. One of the nurses said …’ she swallowed ‘… that Katie’s body has put itself into a coma just because she needs a good rest, and that everything will be healing while she sleeps.’ A tear glistened at the corner of Louise’s eye.

‘Of course, of course,’ soothed Cassian. ‘I’m sure that’s right, but, you know, there’s more you could be doing than that.’ He pulled his briefcase onto the table and opened it discreetly. ‘I’ve been doing a bit of research into this accident,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to upset you,
but it seems that someone, somewhere, was negligent.’

At those words Louise froze, and her already white face became whiter. Into her tired mind, before she could stop them, flowed the memories that she’d been trying to stave off until now. The vision of Ursula, warning her that the children were overexcited. The picture of herself, ignoring Katie’s shrieks; of her and Barnaby, thoughtlessly arguing while their daughter hurled herself into injury; into what might have been death.

It was all her fault; her fault. A violent putrefying guilt exploded inside her, making her shudder with nausea. She clutched at her stomach and looked despairingly at Cassian.

‘It was an accident,’ she said weakly, pleadingly. She could feel her insides wrenching painfully, and feel a self-loathing rising swiftly through her body.

‘Of course it was an accident,’ said Cassian briskly, still head-down in his briefcase. ‘But even so, there may well have been negligence. In fact, I’m almost sure there was. And so …’ He broke off suddenly and looked up at Louise. ‘You’ll have to think about it,’ he said, ‘and, of course, talk to Barnaby.’ He paused, as though for effect. ‘But what I recommend, Louise, is that you go to court.’

Louise looked at him through a blur. ‘Go to court?’ Black shadows were dancing in front of her eyes. ‘Be pro-prosecuted?’ She took a deep gasp of air. ‘I didn’t mean … I didn’t think … I’m sorry, I’m sorry …’

‘Louise, what are you talking about?’ Cassian’s voice pierced her consciousness. ‘I’m not talking about prosecution. I’m talking about a civil case. From what I’ve discovered, I think you’ve got very good grounds for suing Hugh and Ursula Delaney.’

Barnaby arrived at the hospital at five o’clock and went straight to the ward, clutching the piles of cards
and toys which had arrived at Larch Tree Cottage that day. The chair by Katie’s bed was empty and he couldn’t see Louise anywhere on the ward. As he gazed around uncomprehendingly, a nurse whom he didn’t recognize saw him looking, and said, ‘I think Mrs Kember went to the cafeteria. With … her husband, is it?’

Barnaby stared, speechless for a moment. Only when he had recovered his composure could he ask where the cafeteria was. He bent down, stroked Katie’s hair and whispered, ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Katkin.’ Then he strode off down the corridor with a burning face and a thumping heart.