Trauma (21 page)

Main walked all the way home. There were a number of reasons, some connected with embarrassment about the way he must look after the fight in the pub, some connected with giving himself time to think on his own but mainly because the cold night air felt good on his eyes. It was making them water which interfered with his vision but not unpleasantly so. There were halos round all the street lights.

As he walked along he kept feeling his ribs, trying to decide whether or not any had been broken. He concluded not. He had already decided that the injury to his cheek was superficial although it was quite badly swollen. He thought about the pub landlord and cursed under his breath but all in all it had probably worked out for the best. Police involvement might have meant press interest and having one of their English teachers involved in a pub brawl might have proved less than popular with the governors of Merchiston School, extenuating circumstances or not.

Main made himself some coffee and sat down on the couch to drink it. He wanted to call the police and give them a description of the four men but common sense prevailed. He decided that it would be best to wait until morning. The police were becoming used to his harassing them for action and he didn't want them dismissing what he had to say as the ravings of a dishevelled drunk in the early hours of the morning.

Main actually felt stone cold sober despite having had a lot to drink earlier on - and that seemed like a year ago - but it would be better if he were to go to the police when he appeared calm and rational. At the moment, the bathroom mirror said that he’d fought a war single handed and lost. The whites of his eyes were so bloodshot that he looked like a vampire. He found some eye lotion in the bathroom cabinet. It had been there since last summer. Mary and Simon had both suffered from hay fever. He paused for a moment with the bottle in his hand but then opened it quickly to avoid maudlin reflection. He wet two swabs of cotton wool with the cool fluid and sat back down on the couch to apply one to each eye.

As he sat there in silence, the pain, discomfort and humiliation the evening had brought all took second place to the knowledge that he had found the men who had disinterred his son. It was true they had got away but only for the moment. The fact that he had found them at all proved his hypothesis. They must live locally. The police would find them and discover what had happened to Simon. The sense of hopelessness had gone.

Main started to go over everything he had heard the men say. He found one little thing kept niggling away at him. They had kept insisting that he 'had got it all wrong' What had he got all wrong? It wasn't just the words, it was the expression on their faces when they said it and they had both said it. They had looked aggrieved, even innocent but they hadn't tried to deny that they were there that night. So what did it mean?

They had referred to McKirrop as a 'lying old bastard' and he assumed that they had been referring to McKirrop's tale of bravery in the cemetery but now it worried him. Was there something else McKirrop could have been lying about? Surely McKirrop couldn't have been the one who had disinterred Simon?

Tiredness started to overwhelm Main but before giving in he forced himself to write down everything that had been said and as detailed a description as he could remember of the four men. He found no trouble with that. The faces of two of them would be with him until his dying day. He wished he could draw but he couldn't. It would have to be a verbal description that he gave the police.

* * * * *

Ryan Lafferty turned over in his sleep for the umpteenth time and finally conceded that he was not going to get a good night's rest. He had not really been sleeping at all but had been caught in the uneasy no man's land between sleep and wakefulness where troubles lie in wait like beasts in the forest. His earlier reading had compounded the problem. He had been going through a chapter in his witchcraft book about Aleister Crowley, perhaps the most infamous witch of the twentieth century.

Crowley, once labelled the wickedest man in the world, had been included in the book on Scottish witchcraft by virtue of his connection with Boleskin House on the shores of Loch Ness. It was written that, on one occasion, Crowley and his disciples had set out to raise Pan. He and one other man had been locked away in a room to perform the satanic ceremony while the others had to wait until morning before opening the door. When they did, they found Crowley a 'jibbering lunatic' and his colleague dead.

Lafferty opened his eyes and looked up at the patterns on the ceiling of his room. The shadow of the bare branches of the beech tree outside wove an intricate moving pattern when the wind moved them. They looked like a spider's web about to ensnare him. The telephone rang: he reached out his hand, trying to think which of his parishioners it could be. He couldn’t think of any who were seriously ill.

Jean O'Donnell's voice brought him to full wakefulness with the urgency of her tone.

'Father? It's Mary!'

Lafferty propped himself up on one elbow. He said, 'What about her? What's happened?'

'Oh Father . . .' Jean O'Donnell broke down into sobbing.

'Take your time and tell me, what's happened?'

'An accident Father. There's been an accident.'

'On the bike?'

'Yes. She's bad Father. She's really bad.'

'Where is she now?'

'In the Infirmary. The police have just told me.'

'What exactly did they say Jean?'

Jean O'Donnell sobbed again before answering, 'That she's been involved in a serious road accident. She has bad head injuries. She's in something called the Head ...tr ...'

'The Head Trauma Unit?'

'That sounds like it.'

'That's the best place for her Jean. They're experts on head injuries up there.'

'Oh Father . . .'

'I know Jean. Are you going to the hospital just now?'

'Joe's just getting dressed.'

'I'm on my way. I'll see you there.'

When Lafferty arrived at the hospital he found Jean O'Donnell and her husband already there. They were huddled together in the otherwise empty waiting room.

'No, don't get up,' urged Lafferty as he approached. He drew one of the plastic chairs out of the line and sat down facing the couple, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. 'Any news?' he asked.

'We're just waiting for the doctor to come down.’

Lafferty held out his hands and took a hand each from Joe and Jean in his own. He said a prayer and Jean said 'Amen' at the end but Joe just stared at the floor as if in a world of his own. The sound of footsteps made Lafferty turn his head. A young woman in a white coat was coming towards them. He stood up.

The woman looked at Lafferty and then at the couple. She said, 'Mr and Mrs O'Donnell? I'm Doctor Lasseter.'

Sarah turned to look at Lafferty and Jean O'Donnell said, 'This is Father Lafferty Doctor, our parish priest.'

The name registered with Sarah and Lafferty smiled at the recognition in her eyes. He said, 'I think we've spoken on the telephone Doctor.'

'How is she?' asked Jean.

'Not very well at all I'm afraid,' replied Sarah. 'She's on a life support machine at the moment. It's too early to say how severe her head injuries are but I think it would be foolish to give you false hope. She's very badly hurt.'

Jean started to sob into her handkerchief and Joe wrapped his arm more tightly around her.

'Do you know exactly what happened Doctor?' asked Lafferty gently.

Sarah said, 'I understand from my colleagues in A&E that she was the pillion passenger on a motor-cycle. There was an accident involving another vehicle. Mary was catapulted off the machine." Sarah's voice fell to a whisper. 'I believe she collided with a tree.'

Joe O'Donnell who had stared resolutely at the floor throughout the conversation suddenly looked up and said, 'I'll kill the bastard! I'll take his bloody life!'

Jean restrained him and Lafferty put a hand on his shoulder too. Sarah said softly, 'If it's the young man who was riding the motor cycle you're talking about, I'm afraid he's dead. He was killed outright.'

Joe O'Donnell put his hands over his face and shook his head as anger, grief and frustration threatened to overwhelm him. 'I'm sorry,' he sobbed through his fingers. I just . . .'

'Easy, Joe,' said Lafferty gently.

'Can we see her?' asked Jean.

'Of course,' replied Sarah. 'But she is on a life support machine.'

'What does that mean exactly?' asked Jean.

'Quite simply it means that a machine is breathing for her. We place an airway tube into her throat and she is ventilated artificially by a respirator. We also have tubes going down into her stomach and another tube going into a vein so that we can feed and medicate her. So be prepared.'

Sarah led the way upstairs to HTU, Joe and Jean followed, still with their arms around each other and Lafferty brought up the rear.

In the early hours of the morning the stair well seemed cold but Lafferty's momentary urge to shiver faded as they passed through swing doors into HTU and felt the warmth hit them. As if needing to break the silence, Jean said, 'It's very warm in here.'

'We have to keep it that way for the patients,' said Sarah. 'In a unit like this clothes and blankets get in the way.'

Lafferty saw what she meant. Mary O'Donnell was clad in a simple white hospital shift which left her throat and arms bare for ease of access. An unsightly plastic airway protruded from her mouth and her chest rose and fell in response to the ventilator that hissed and clicked beside her bed. Electrode wires snaked out from the bandaging on her head and she had suffered some superficial grazing to her face which had left an angry red weal. Her eyes were closed and there was no response from her when her mother, unable to restrain herself, knelt down by the bed and laid her face against her shoulder sobbing her concern.

Joe placed a hand awkwardly on his wife's shoulder and helped her to her feet.

'Can we stay?' asked Jean when she had recovered.

'I really don't think there's much point,' responded Sarah gently. 'Nothing will happen tonight. We'll know more when we run tests on her tomorrow.'

'But if she should ... get worse and ...'

'Mary will not die,' said Sarah. 'The machine is breathing for her.'

Jean looked puzzled. She asked, 'Are you saying that she can't die?'

'More or less,' said Sarah. 'As long as she's on the ventilator we can keep her blood oxygenated so technically Mary cannot die.'

Jean O'Donnell looked as if a great weight had been removed from her shoulders. 'It's wonderful what they can do,' said her husband.

'But,' cautioned Sarah, 'it may be that Mary's brain is damaged beyond recovery and that she will not be able to recover ...'

'You mean she could be a vegetable, don't you?' said Jean.

'It's possible,' said Sarah. 'We'll have to hope for the best.'

'And pray,' said Jean, looking down at her daughter. You will pray for her Father won't you?' she asked Lafferty without turning round.

'You know I will,' said Lafferty.

'Go home now,' said Sarah kindly. 'Try to sleep. We'll call you in the morning when we know more.'

Jean looked up at Joe who nodded. Joe wrapped his arm round her again and nodded his thanks to Sarah before setting off for the door. Lafferty was left standing there.

Sarah looked at him and said, 'I'm glad to get the opportunity to apologise to you in person, Father Lafferty. I really am most sorry that I didn't inform you of John McKirrop's death.'

'That's over and done with, Doctor. Don't give it another thought.'

'That's gracious of you Father. Can I offer you some coffee?'

'That would be nice,' said Lafferty. He followed Sarah to the duty room where she switched on an electric kettle.

'It'll be instant I'm afraid.'

'That's fine but are you sure you don't want to get back to bed? I assume you were called out for Mary?'

Sarah nodded and said, 'That's OK. I could do with some coffee. You don't think I was too direct . . . too frank with the O'Donnells do you?' Sarah had turned to face Lafferty and he was surprised at the vulnerability in her eyes. His heart went out to her. 'Not at all. I take it there's not much hope for Mary?'

Sarah shook her head and said, 'I don't honestly think so. The crash helmet she was wearing didn't fit properly and had actually been damaged in a previous accident. Her injuries are very bad. That's why I felt I had to try to prepare the O'Donnells for the worst.'

Lafferty nodded and said, 'You did it kindly.'

Sarah let out her breath and said, 'You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that. You know, it's an awful thing but when you see broken bodies day in day out and weeping relatives it's so hard to find . . .'

'New compassion?' asked Lafferty.

'Exactly,' nodded Sarah. 'I can feel it happening to me and I feel so guilty but I can't seem to stop the hardening process. There are times when I hate myself for it but I can't fight it.'