The Story of Us (5 page)

Like a well-oiled machine, the medical staff had sprung into action, wheeling, assessing and processing us with practised speed, separating Caroline and me almost instantly. I'm not entirely sure where they took her, but I was wheeled into a triage area for further assessment and then, after that burst of initial activity, was left for what seemed like for ever, for the arrival of the duty doctor.

As the minutes ticked by, my agitation, a small thing at first, grew into a hard angry knot lodged somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I appreciated that they were busy, that much was obvious from the flurry of activity I could hear beyond the cubicle curtains. But surely someone could spare just a minute to tell me what was happening with Amy? It was the question I'd asked every member of staff who'd come within a few feet of me, one of whom I was pretty sure was actually a cleaner, who didn't even speak English.

I was also aware of an ever-pressing need to phone both home and Richard and let them know I was all right. It was really late, and my dad had started worrying about me like a teenager out past curfew since I moved back home. It was irritating, infuriating and completely understandable, so I lived with it. There were bigger issues to concern him and I'd moved back to lessen not
add
to them.

Richard too would surely be worried by now. We'd said we'd phone each other at the end of our respective hen and stag nights, and I wasn't entirely sure what happened when you dialled a mobile that had been reduced to molten plastic in a fiery inferno.

When a shadowed silhouette paused just beyond the curtain, I called out in a tone even I
could recognise as annoyingly demanding. ‘Excuse me, could you please come in here and see me?'

There was a grating sound of old metal rings scraping on the pole, as the curtain was drawn back and Jack's large form stepped into the cubicle, making it suddenly feel matchbox-small.

‘There you are,' he announced, as though he'd been on some sort of quest to find me.
Had he?
‘I thought I recognised that imperious tone.' I flushed at his rather damning but, let's be honest here, entirely accurate comment.

‘Sorry, I thought you were a nurse or someone.' His look quickly changed to one of concern. ‘Is something wrong? Are you in pain?' I shook my head, and he seemed to relax a little. ‘What is it you need? If it's anything other than a bedpan, I'll see what I can do.'

He had a curious knack of being able to make me smile in situations where no humour should exist. ‘A phone would be good, better still would be some information about Amy. I've no idea what's happening with her.'

He nodded understandingly and drew his mobile out of his pocket.

‘I don't think you're meant—' I broke off as the screen lit up, and as he passed me the phone I noticed the large red stain on the temporary bandage swathed around his forearm. ‘Has no one seen that yet?' I asked, nodding at the wound which was clearly still bleeding.

‘I told you, it's nothing. And the ER has been kind of crazy over the last half-hour, with ambulances arriving every five minutes. I overheard someone saying there's been a fire in an old folks' home.' That explained the activity and the lack of attention. ‘But
you
should've have been looked at by now, you have a head injury. It could be affecting you in all sorts of ways.'

‘Nah. I'm pretty much like this all the time.'

He smiled. ‘Then he's one courageous guy, your fiancé.'

God. Richard. I was meant to be calling him and not exchanging pleasantries with my new-found rescuer friend. Jack was on my wavelength instantly. ‘Give me the number and I'll dial it for you.' I recited my home number first, willingly letting him key it in; I didn't think I was up to handling an unfamiliar mobile. It actually took three attempts before I got the number right, which was the first real indication that I was still far more shaken up than I'd realised. How could I not know my own home number? Jack was calmly reassuring, saying it was just another symptom of delayed shock. I nodded back weakly – he wasn't to know how forgetting something,
anything
,
freaked me out these days.

The phone was answered on the second ring. I took a deep breath and smiled broadly before speaking, hoping that might take the tremor out of my voice.

‘Hi, Dad.'

‘Emma?' Not a bad guess, since I was an only child.

‘Yeah, Dad, it's me. Did I wake you up?' I heard grappling about, and knew he'd be reaching for the alarm clock on his nightstand.

‘Emma, it's half past three in the morning. Where are you?'

Pause. Think of the best way to say this without causing panic, I told myself.

‘I just wanted to say first that I'm fine, absolutely fine, but that I won't be back for a little while, we've had a bit of an accident.'

I saw Jack's eyebrows rise several centimetres at this gross understatement.

‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?'

Damn. Even lying through my teeth hadn't stopped the panic from threading its way into his question. I heard a second voice then, and felt my concern ratchet up another notch.

‘Is that Emma? Is something wrong? Where is she?'

‘I'm good. Tell Mum I'm just running late, then I'll tell you properly.'

I waited patiently while he repeated the lie to my mother, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on the weave of the hospital blanket covering me, rather than meet Jack's eyes. It might be his phone, but that didn't mean I had to explain myself to him.

‘Okay.' My dad's voice returned on to the line.

‘Don't say anything at your end, or you'll start her worrying again. Just listen, okay?' He gave a deep sigh, but he understood why I was being this way.

‘Okay, love.' There was a false cheeriness to his tone.

I related it as succinctly as I could. ‘We had a car accident. I'm okay, just a little scratch on my forehead.' I
did
look up then, and saw Jack's eyes widen and the eyebrows rose, if possible, even higher than before. ‘Caro is fine, but Amy was hurt quite…' there was a quavering in my voice, that no lie could wallpaper over, ‘… quite badly. I'm not sure what's going on with her. No one will tell me.'

‘Where are you? I'll be right there.'

There was some more muted questioning in the background, and I realised that we were doing a pretty poor job of keeping the tone of our conversation calm enough not to panic my mum.

‘No, Dad. That's not necessary. I'm going to phone Richard, and he can come up and be with me. If you left now, who would you get to sit with Mum at this hour?'

He was silent for a long moment, realising I was right.

‘I don't like the idea of you being there on your own.'

I looked up at Jack and gave a small smile.

‘I'll be fine, Dad. I'm not alone. I have a friend with me.'

There was a long moment of silence after I pressed the disconnect button on his phone. Jack broke it first. ‘So, compulsive lying? How long have you had that little problem?' I shrugged. This was one conversation that I just wasn't getting into with him. Annoyingly he wouldn't let it go. ‘“Bit of an accident”? “Little scratch”?'

‘Yeah, then I went for a major whopper and called you my friend.'

His face softened then, as though he suddenly recognised not to push me on this matter. ‘No. That one was true.' His hand reached across the blanket, and gently laced his fingers through mine. I felt the pressure of my diamond solitaire press into the skin of his palm, and wondered if that was why he released my hand almost as quickly as he had taken it.

‘Okay, let's ring that fiancé of yours,' he commanded, and there was a distance in his voice that I swear hadn't been there a moment before. ‘And this time, tell the
truth.
'

The phone rang for five minutes in Richard's flat before I hung up. Surely he had to be home by now? And the phone was right there in the bedroom. He couldn't have slept through its constant ringing, could he? I glanced at my watch. Almost four o'clock. He'd told me it was going to be a low-key stag do, just a couple of teachers from the school where he worked, and a few guys from the rugby club. Nothing wild. I thought of the look Simon, his best man, had given him, when he'd overheard Richard describing the plan for the night.

I sighed and punched Richard's mobile number into Jack's phone. The blare of loud music was the first thing I heard, that and a loud background buzz of a noisy bar or club.

‘Richard?' More noise, a raucous shriek of laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The stag party was obviously still in full swing. ‘Richard, can you hear me?'

‘Who is this?' Not a good start.

‘Richard, it's Emma.' There was a long pause, which sounded like it needed filling. ‘
Your fiancée
.'

‘Emma,' he repeated, as though the name might just be a little familiar to him. I heard another voice I recognised then, speaking in what he must have thought was a whisper. I couldn't make out all the words, but I definitely caught the phrases ‘checking up on you, mate' and ‘ball and chain'.

‘Richard, something terrible has happened. We've been in an accident and we're all at the hospital.' My words were more effective than throwing a cold bucket of water over him would have been, just not as satisfying.

‘Emma, are you okay? Are you hurt?'

‘Nothing major.' I looked up at Jack who was waiting with poorly concealed interest to see how I was going to finish my sentence. ‘I have a nasty cut on my head, and my legs are badly bruised, but Caroline and I got off pretty lucky. But Amy…' I suddenly couldn't finish as my throat had constricted and the only thing coming past my lips were gulping sobs.

‘Amy? What about Amy?' Richard's voice sounded completely sober now. ‘Emma, calm down, tell me everything.' But I couldn't, the words were lost in the tangle of fear and panic that I thought I had managed to escape from, only to find it was just lying in wait to enmesh me all over again. I shook my head helplessly at the phone, knowing I could say no more.

The handset was gently prised from my grip by its rightful owner, and a calm and controlled voice spoke for me. ‘We're at Queen Victoria Hospital. Just get here as soon as you can.' Jack looked about to disconnect the call, without ever identifying himself, but stopped to add just one last comment. ‘Get a cab, man. Don't even think about driving.'

Jack held me while I sobbed, and it never once occurred to me how strange it was that I was leaning so heavily upon someone who I really didn't know. He could be anyone. He
was
anyone. Chance or fate had just put him on the right road at the right time. Had he not have been around, both Richard and my dad would have been getting an entirely different type of phone call by now. The thought made me sob even harder.

‘Better?' Jack asked eventually, when the tsunami had petered out to just a small flow. He passed me a box of sandpaper-rough tissues, and I tried to mop up as best I could. There was nothing ladylike or genteel about the nose-blowing, though. He waited patiently until I was once more able to converse sensibly.

‘Where's the buck's night? Has he got far to travel?'

‘You should come with subtitles. That's an Australian term. It's called a stag night over here.'

He gave a shrug and a smile, and surprisingly I found my lips still remembered how to return it. ‘I'm not from around these parts, ma'am,' he said, mimicking the words I'd heard in countless old western movies.

‘I kind of guessed that. What
are
you doing in the UK, if you don't mind me asking?'

‘I'm an author, with a publisher's deadline and a novel I have rather foolishly set in the English countryside, so I thought I should spend a couple of months here doing some hands-on research. I'm renting a cottage on the coast near Trentwell.'

In different circumstances I'm sure I'd have been intrigued enough to ask more, but there were other much more important issues on my mind right then. For someone who didn't know me, it was a little disconcerting to find Jack was able to read me like a crystal ball. ‘Why don't I go and round up one of those doctors and see if I can get you an update on Amy and Caroline?'

After he'd gone, the cubicle seemed much more spacious, but curiously bland and colourless. He was the kind of man whose presence filled all the available space around him. And it wasn't just a matter of his good looks or charm, which even on a night like tonight were undeniable. He was probably going to have to utilise both of those to full effect if he was going to get any information about Amy, because I was pretty certain they only gave out details like that to close relatives or immediate family. But damn it, we
were
Amy's family, Caroline and I. Well, not in an actual sibling sense, but in a deeper more enduring way that bound us closer than blood ever could. I imagined the police would have called Amy's parents by now, but as they'd moved out of the area several years ago and lived four hours' drive away, until they got here Caroline and I were all she had.

I decided to go out and find Jack for myself – I spotted him walking down the corridor in deep conversation with a nurse. She turned to me first. ‘What are you doing out of bed?'

‘That was going to be my line,' said Jack.

‘I've found out Caroline is about to be discharged and Amy's in surgery,' he informed me, as we walked back to the cubicle. He held out a hand to assist me back on to the hospital bed. I pulled the blankets back over my damaged legs and let Jack's worrying news sink in.

‘Surgery? For her face?'

He shook his head sadly. ‘No. I think she has some internal injuries, but I couldn't find out what specifically.' I felt a blast of cold fear run from the base of my neck right down the length of my spine, hitting every vertebra on the way. Internal injuries sounded like a hospital euphemism for
really, really badly hurt
. Nothing else Jack could say or offer in consolation could get me beyond that dreadful terrifying phrase.