Swimming Pool Sunday (13 page)

And then there had been the matter of Hugh and Ursula. They had helped to organize the service; if she’d gone to it, she would have seen them; she would have had to talk to them. Louise closed her eyes briefly. She didn’t know what to think about Hugh and Ursula; she couldn’t think about them rationally; couldn’t dissociate them from the accident; from the malevolent nightmares still looming in her mind. Sometimes, as she sat, endlessly replaying the accident in her mind, she would begin to shake with a black nauseous hatred for them; a hatred for their stupid swimming-pool and evil dangerous diving-board. And she would feel a desperate need for them – someone – to be punished for what had happened to Katie. But then something would click in her mind and she would suddenly have an image of a benign smiling Ursula; a kindly Hugh. Old friends of the family, who loved Katie; who would never want to harm her. Tears would well up in her eyes, and suddenly the idea of taking them to court would seem ridiculous, unthinkable.

To Cassian, however, it didn’t seem unthinkable at all. As Louise walked along the corridor to the Ladies, swaying slightly with tiredness, she thought about Cassian’s proposal. He really seemed to think they had a case. He’d explained it all carefully to her, the night after Barnaby’s outburst, and then had sat back, and in a smooth voice, said, ‘It’s your decision. I won’t say another word about it if you don’t want me to.’

‘No,’ Louise faltered. ‘It’s all very interesting. I’ll speak to Barnaby, I don’t think he understands properly.’

‘You’re right,’ Cassian had replied. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t understand.’ He looked at her hard. ‘I won’t say this again,’ he said, ‘but I think that you and Barnaby should see it as your duty to Katie to take the Delaneys to court.’ Then he looked away. ‘You owe it to your little girl,’ he said in a softer voice. And Louise, strung up and weary, had felt tears trickling down her face, and a sudden conviction that Cassian was right; that he was Katie’s saviour; that he was prepared to go into battle on her behalf.

Barnaby arrived at the hospital a few minutes early for the meeting, and went straight to Katie’s ward. Louise wasn’t sitting beside her bed, and Barnaby felt an immediate, unreasonable wave of anger, and a faint sense of relief. He would have a few moments alone with Katie; would be able to talk to her naturally without Louise standing by and watching, making him feel stupid. He had hardly spoken to Louise since the row in the cafeteria. On the few occasions that they had met beside Katie’s bed, they had exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries, just in case she could hear them; otherwise Louise seemed almost to be avoiding him.

‘Katie,’ he said in a low voice, taking her pale little hand carefully, without dislodging the plastic tube taped to it. ‘Katie, it’s Daddy. Katie, you’re going to be
fine. Soon you’ll wake up and you’ll be able to come home …’He broke off. She would be going home to Louise, of course, to Larch Tree Cottage; not home to him.

‘Barnaby!’ A voice from behind made him jump. He turned to see Louise standing by Katie’s curtain rail. She looked pale and exhausted.

‘Hello, Louise,’ said Barnaby. He suddenly felt stilted and unnatural. ‘Has anything …’ He glanced at Katie. ‘Have there been any developments?’

‘No,’ said Louise shortly. ‘Nothing.’ She looked at her watch. ‘We’d better go.’

The meeting was with the same consultant with round spectacles who had spoken to them in the waiting-room, plus Janine, the nurse who had special responsibility for Katie. Barnaby watched as Louise greeted the consultant with a tremulous smile, then sat down next to Janine and began to talk to her in a familiar undertone, as though they were old friends; as though they were keeping some sort of secret together. Without meaning to, he suddenly said, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Louise.

‘Was it about Katie? Is there something I should know?’ persisted Barnaby. He tried to smile pleasantly at Janine, but he could feel his face turning red, his breath coming more quickly.

‘I was asking Janine for some painkillers, actually,’ said Louise curtly. ‘I’ve got a splitting headache.’

‘Oh,’ said Barnaby. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he added, but Louise had looked away.

The consultant cleared his throat, shuffled the papers in front of him and then looked up.

‘I’m glad you could both come in today,’ he said. ‘We feel it’s very useful to have regular meetings with the parents of children in our wards, to update you on any progress, explain what’s happening and give you a
chance to ask any questions.’ He looked down at his notes. ‘In Katie’s case, it’s still very early days, and as I’m sure you’re both aware, there’s little we can do other than monitor her very carefully and wait until she begins to regain consciousness. We are keeping a very close eye on her, and if there’s any change in her condition, we’ll let you know immediately.’

‘When do you think …’ began Barnaby. Everyone looked at him and he gave an awkward cough. ‘When do you think she’ll wake up?’

‘I’m afraid it’s very difficult to tell,’ said the consultant.

‘You must have some idea,’ said Barnaby. ‘In a week? In a month? In a year?’ The consultant sighed.

‘I don’t want to appear difficult,’ he said, ‘but we really don’t think it’s a good idea to try and get into predictions.’ He smiled kindly at Barnaby. ‘Katie will wake up when she’s ready.’

‘But you must at least …’ began Barnaby. Louise interrupted him.

‘Barnaby, leave it!’ she said. ‘They don’t know, OK? We just have to wait.’

‘It may seem to you as though we’re hiding something,’ said the consultant earnestly, ‘but I can assure you, we’re not. When it comes to a head injury, very little is certain.’ He looked at Barnaby. ‘It really is best to try to keep an open mind. Don’t build up any kind of expectations at the moment, just take each day as it comes. And when Katie does regain consciousness, a lot of things should become clearer.’

There was a short silence, during which an unarticulated panic began to grow inside Barnaby. What was going to become clearer? What weren’t they telling him?

‘She will be OK, though,’ he said suddenly, in a voice made belligerent through alarm. ‘I mean, you said she wasn’t paralysed. She will be able to walk and everything? And talk properly? She won’t be a vegetable?’

‘Barnaby!’ exclaimed Louise.

‘Well, what’s going to become clearer? What are you talking about?’

‘Mr Kember,’ said the consultant soothingly, ‘obviously you’re very concerned for your daughter.’

‘Yes,’ said Barnaby roughly, ‘I am. And I want to know what she’s going to be like when she wakes up.’

‘Of course you do,’ said the consultant. ‘We all do. However, at the moment, there’s very little we can tell you.’

‘But you’ve done tests, haven’t you?’ cried Barnaby. ‘You’ve done scans and things.’

‘Yes, we have,’ said the consultant patiently, ‘but a scan can’t tell us everything.’

‘What can’t it tell you? What might be wrong with her?’

‘Barnaby,’ cried Louise suddenly, in a taut voice, ‘why can’t you just leave it alone? Why can’t you just wait and see, like everyone else?’

‘I just want to know!’ said Barnaby. ‘I want to know what might be wrong with Katie! You must have some idea,’ he insisted to the consultant. ‘I mean, other people must have had injuries like Katie’s. Can’t you tell us what happened to them?’ The consultant sighed. He picked up his silver ball-point pen and began to trace inkless circles on the top of his folder.

‘Damage to the brain can have many different consequences,’ he said. ‘Many victims will, for example, suffer a certain confusion when they wake up; what we call post-traumatic amnesia.’

‘Is that all?’ said Barnaby. ‘A bit of confusion?’

‘Well, no, not always,’ said the consultant. ‘There may perhaps be problems with … well, with speech, for instance. Or there may be some form of post-traumatic epilepsy, or changes in personality. But until Katie wakes up …’

‘What about walking?’ said Barnaby. There was a
pause. The consultant began to examine the cap of his pen.

‘There may initially be problems with balance and co-ordination, yes,’ he said eventually. ‘Some patients have to learn how to walk again. But only some,’ he added firmly. ‘And in most cases rehabilitation is a tremendous help.’

‘I see,’ said Barnaby, trying to stay calm. He felt as though all his worst fears had been confirmed, as though he was finally being let into a secret which everyone else had known about for days.

‘If Katie did need rehabilitation,’ said Louise in a shaky voice, ‘would that happen here?’

‘No, probably at Forest Lodge. It’s a rehab centre near here.’

‘Does it …’ began Louise.

‘Forest Lodge?’ interrupted Barnaby. He felt a cold trickle run down his spine. ‘That place on the hill? With all the children in wheelchairs?’

‘I don’t think they’re all in wheelchairs,’ said the consultant gently. He looked at Louise. ‘It’s quite a famous centre, you know. You’re lucky to be living so close to it.’

‘Lucky,’ echoed Barnaby bleakly.

‘But it’s very early days to be thinking of anything like that,’ said the consultant briskly. ‘At the moment we must concentrate on bringing Katie round.’ He smiled at Louise. ‘I gather her classmates made a tape for her; that kind of thing always helps.’

‘Oh, good.’ Louise flushed slightly. ‘There was just one other thing,’ she said, not looking at Barnaby. ‘If we needed medical reports for a … for a court case, would you be able to give them to us?’

‘Absolutely,’ said the consultant. ‘We’re quite used to that, aren’t we, Janine?’ He looked at the nurse, who nodded.

‘Oh, sure,’ she said. ‘Will you be going to court, then?’

‘No,’ said Barnaby, scowling at Louise. ‘We won’t.’ Louise ignored him.

‘We might,’ she said.

The consultant looked from one to another.

‘It’s none of my business,’ he said, ‘but I’ve seen quite a lot of parents in your situation, and I’d say that if you do decide to go to court, you should really try to agree to do it together.’ He frowned. ‘The whole thing can get pretty stressful, as it is, not to mention expensive.’

‘Well, that wouldn’t actually be a problem,’ said Louise, flushing slightly. ‘My … my father’s very generously agreed to help us out with the legal fees. And, of course, if we win costs, it won’t actually …’ She was interrupted by Barnaby.

‘Are you telling me that your father thinks we should sue?’ His voice was outraged. ‘I don’t believe it! I just don’t believe it!’

Louise’s eyes flashed angrily at him.

‘You don’t believe he would put his granddaughter before anything else,’ she hissed. ‘His own flesh and blood. Is that so strange to you? Because if it is, Barnaby, it says more about you …’

‘Ahem.’ The consultant politely cleared his throat, and Louise stopped abruptly, mid-flow.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Do carry on.’

‘Perhaps we should agree’, said the consultant, ‘to bring this meeting to an end. Just remember, whatever you decide to do, we’ll try and help.’ He smiled at Louise and got up. ‘We’ll have another meeting soon. Meanwhile, do ask Janine if there’s anything you’d like to know.’

‘Wait!’ said Barnaby hurriedly. ‘Just one more thing. Do people ever … do they ever just wake up out of a coma and they’re fine? Back to normal straight away?’

There was a pause. Louise muttered something under her breath.

‘To be honest, not very often,’ said the consultant kindly. ‘Not very often at all.’

‘But it’s possible,’ persisted Barnaby. The consultant sighed.

‘Yes, it’s just about possible,’ he began. ‘But …’

‘Don’t worry,’ interrupted Barnaby. ‘It’s possible. That’s all I wanted to know.’

Cassian was waiting for Louise when they came out of the meeting.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Do they know any more?’

‘No,’ said Louise, rubbing her eyes wearily. ‘They don’t know anything. They don’t know when she’s going to wake up, or whether she’ll be epileptic, or whether she’ll be able to walk, or whether she’ll have the same personality as she did before …’

‘They said all that? They said she might not be able to walk?’

‘Barnaby wouldn’t stop badgering them,’ said Louise curtly. ‘They had to shut him up somehow.’ Barnaby scowled.

‘They also said she might just wake up and be fine,’ he said roughly.

‘Oh, Barnaby!’ exclaimed Louise. ‘Get real! That’s not going to happen and you know it.’ Cassian nodded seriously.

‘That sounds most unlikely to me,’ he said in a grave professional voice. ‘Head injuries can have all sorts of consequences. Katie’s life will probably never be the same again. Even if she recovers, rehabilitation might take months. Years.’ He paused. ‘She’s going to have to be your main priority. You’re going to have to put her above everything else.’

‘Of course,’ snapped Barnaby. Cassian raised his eyebrows.

‘You say that,’ he said coolly, examining his fingernails.
‘But if you’re not even willing to go to court on her behalf …’

‘That’s different,’ said Barnaby fiercely.

‘I can’t see how,’ said Cassian smoothly. ‘You have the opportunity to set her up financially, to relieve the burden on your family, to recompense Katie and yourselves for all this trouble and suffering. The chances are, any award would be made by the Delaneys’ insurance company, but you’re refusing to go ahead simply because the Delaneys are your … friends.’ His voice was suddenly scathing. There was a pause.

‘It’s not just that,’ said Barnaby eventually, in an uncertain voice. He looked at Louise. ‘How can we go into court and say it’s Hugh’s and Ursula’s fault that Katie’s in hospital? How can we blame them? It was an accident. An
accident
,’ he repeated, with emphasis.

‘An accident which could have been avoided,’ said Cassian swiftly. ‘I went to inspect that diving-board, and, frankly, I was shocked. The surface is all slippery; the tread has worn down …’

‘It’s not that bad,’ said Louise uncomfortably.

‘Bad enough,’ said Cassian. ‘Especially where excitable children are involved. By law, a householder has a special duty of care towards visiting children. Hugh and Ursula should have prevented children from using the board, or else issued a warning, or at least hired a supervisor.’ His voice was suddenly hard and censorious. ‘Who in their right mind allows children to play on a slippery, unsafe diving-board? It’s outrageously negligent!’