Watch Over Me (26 page)

‘She’ll be ok, she’s being looked after, you’ll see, she’s strong.’

‘Ach I know, Shona, it’ll be fine. I’ll put the kettle on.’

And I sat, marginally comforted by their strength, like a small flickering light in this terrible darkness.

We stayed with Peggy until Margaret arrived, then walked home in silence.

Later on, at home, Shona was scrubbing an already immaculate kitchen – when she’s anxious, she cleans – and I was pacing the room when my mobile rang. I jumped and answered quickly, my heart in my throat.

‘Jamie? It’s Silke. I heard about Eilidh. God, it’s terrible. Any news, how is she?’

‘She hasn’t woken up …’

A moment of silence, followed by, ‘Do you want me to come over?’

‘I’m going to drive to the hospital later on, as soon as her parents take a break. Just so she’s not on her own …’ I choked for a second ‘… maybe you could come with me … Shona will stay here to look after Maisie and it’d be good to have you with me …’

‘Of course. Just come and get me. Is she in Kinnear or Aberdeen?’

‘Kinnear for now, I’m not sure what’ll happen next.’

‘Come any time, I’m ready.’

As soon as I put my mobile down, the house phone went.

‘Hi Jamie, it’s Simon. We’re going to Peggy’s to rest for a bit, Rhona is in a bad way, they had to give her medication … Peggy said you’d go … She said you’ve been a good friend to Eilidh since she moved up here … Thank you for that …’ He sounded terrible.

‘Don’t thank me. Please say to Rhona I’ll do all I can. I’ll be at the hospital in half an hour.’

‘You see, her sister can’t come up, she’s got no one to leave her kids with. And Tom … well, I’m not sure Eilidh wants Tom around. I know he’s still her husband but … I’m not sure if you know …’

‘I know. What about Harry? Eilidh’s best friend?’

‘I’m going to phone him as soon as we know what’s what. No point in just worrying him now. I mean, she’s in a coma, nothing’s changing … when she wakes up, I’ll phone him.’

‘Yes. Of course. When she wakes up.’

Silke and I drove in silence, the snowy winter landscape so beautiful it was heartbreaking.

No change.

We spent a few hours sitting in the waiting room. We were not allowed to see her.

We drove home in time to put Maisie to bed. I had to be there for that; she needed things to be as normal as possible. Shona was going to stay with me until Saturday – Fraser had taken a few days off to look after the girls. I was moved by their kindness.

The next few days were a blur, with Eilidh’s parents and me taking turns to be there. She was lying on the hospital bed, perfectly still. She was breathing herself, though, and we clung to that – that she didn’t need machines to help her, her chest rose and fell steadily. She reminded me of seaweed on the shore, ebbing and flowing with the waves. Her skin was creamy and there was no colour on her face, no colour anywhere on her, just a purple bruise on one side of her forehead.

I don’t know how many hours I spent in that waiting room, thinking of her – the way she walked into my workshop, a few days ago, a million years ago, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes shining, so full of life, so vibrant. I still didn’t know what could have happened that made her run out like that, into the road, without looking.

The doctors said there was no point in sitting on those awful chairs for hours, if there was any change they’d phone us, but we did anyway. We needed to make sure that, when she woke up, there’d be someone there.

‘Were you there? Did you see?’ asked Simon, his face grey.

‘I was in my workshop. Maisie was showing me her work, Eilidh was looking at mine. Then she gasped and ran out. Just like that.’

‘Did something scare her? What happened?’

‘I don’t know. It was all so sudden. I heard a thump and …’

‘Did you say something that upset her?’ He sounded exasperated. He needed a reason.

‘Absolutely
not
. All I’d said to her was “hello”, then Maisie was showing me her jotter and that was it. If you think it’s my fault, you’re very, very wrong.’

‘No, of course not. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … It’s just that she was so much better. In the last few phone calls. Like the old Eilidh, before all that happened. I just can’t believe …’

‘What are you saying? That she
threw
herself under that bloody car? You’re wrong again.’ My voice was a whisper but had we not been in a hospital, I would have shouted. ‘Eilidh is strong. You don’t know her. She was rebuilding her life. She
is
rebuilding her life!’

‘I don’t know her? I’m her father! Of course I know her!’

‘Eilidh is strong,’ I repeated.

Later on, I went to my workshop. Everything looked untidy, unfinished. There was no way I could go back to work yet, not while she was lying in that hospital bed.

I retraced her steps, trying to look at things with her eyes, from my drawing table, to the right-hand side where the jewellery is displayed, then further on, right at the back where I keep the finished pieces ready to be collected.

And then I noticed it: the cradle, the wrought-iron cradle … I always have one on display, it’s a popular piece and I’ve been getting orders for bespoke cradles from all over the country. Maybe that’s what she found so upsetting. She’d told me that just before losing her baby, her husband had bought a cradle and that it felt like a bad omen to her, to put it in the nursery like that, empty and waiting, so long before the birth. She said they had got it from her husband’s best friend.

I went home and checked the books. There’d be no record of it had they bought it ready-made but I kept a note of all orders and deliveries. It was a long shot but worth a try.

I’d made a couple dozen of them in the last three years or so and, sure enough, one was delivered to Southport, to a Dr Ian Pearce. Maybe …

Maybe.

There was no way of knowing, except asking her, and I couldn’t do that, not in a million years. But I couldn’t bear to have that cradle in my shop anymore, so I drove it at once to Kinnear, to the Oxfam shop.

Days and nights blurred until, finally, after what seemed like weeks but was only four days, Eilidh opened her eyes.

I rose up, up to the surface. The black, silent, cold depths of the ocean became warm waters, shallow sea. I started having dreams, one of which I’d had before but not in such detail.

I was kneeling on the floor, a wooden floor. I could see my knees. I was wearing a brown skirt and beige tights, those that were in fashion years ago. I could see the sun streaming through the window and dust dancing in it. From the window, I could see the rolling, pine-covered hills of Glen Avich beyond fields of green grass. In front of me, I could see the legs of two people sitting on the sofa. My arms were stretched out, open like in an embrace, and a blond toddler wearing brown dungarees was wobbling towards me with a look of intense concentration on his face. He’s learning to walk, I thought. The boy made it into my arms and I held him – he felt soft and tender as he squealed with delight. I smiled and raised my head to look at the people on the sofa: Lord and Lady Ramsay, smiling back at me, praising the wee boy’s feat. In a split second, I knew I was Elizabeth and the wee boy was Jamie. I kept holding him tight and wishing the dream wouldn’t finish. But the whole scene blurred and everything melted away, leaving in its place a white ceiling and aqua walls. I was awake.

She was beautiful – pale, nearly translucent, like mother-of-pearl. She was beautiful and she was alive.

They had to cut her hair very short and it framed her bruised face, soft and silky on the white pillow. She had a line in her hand but no more tubes in her nostrils, no more oxygen mask. She lay in her hospital bed, the pillows raised a bit, her head leaning on one side. Rhona was sitting beside her.

I walked in and she smiled, a little smile that was weak but very joyful, all at the same time. I sat down, unable to speak. I didn’t dare to touch her – I felt I might break her.

‘Jamie.’ Her voice was thin and soft. She was still smiling.

‘Eilidh …’ I wanted to say, ‘my love,’ but I couldn’t because Rhona was there and because I didn’t know how she’d react, I didn’t want to upset her.

‘I’m awake now.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘I thought I was dead.’

‘No, no, thank God, no …’ I went to hold her hand and then I stopped in mid-air and just touched her wrist lightly, awkwardly, for a moment. She raised her hand and clasped mine. I couldn’t stop myself, I stroked her cheek and she closed her eyes.

‘I can feel that. It’s amazing, to be awake,’ she said.

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ I whispered.

She looked at me with those clear, honest eyes.

‘Has Shona had the baby?’

Oh my God, I thought. She’s confused. Maybe it’s a lot worse than it looks, maybe she can’t remember …

‘No, that’s a few months away still.’

‘I thought so. She’s due in May, this is February …’ she said this slowly and deliberately, as if making sure she was getting it right. Thank God, I thought, for the millionth time that day. She’s ok. ‘But when she was here,’ she went on, ‘her bump was gone.’

‘She was never here. She stayed in Glen Avich to look after Maisie. She never came to the hospital.’

‘Yes, she did. She sat with you. She was there when I was hit.’

‘No, she came down the day after. She was in Aberdeen when the accident happened.’

‘But, Jamie, I saw her. She had her brown skirt, she was kneeling beside me and she touched my face when I was lying on the ground.’

I thought it was better not to upset her, so I changed the subject. ‘She’ll come and see you as soon as you’re stronger.’

‘She was there, Jamie. I saw her.’

‘She can’t wait to see you—’

‘You better go now, the doctor will be here soon,’ intervened Rhona, sensing that Eilidh was getting agitated.

‘No, Jamie, stay. Don’t go, stay for a wee bit longer.’

‘Of course. I’ll stay as long as you like.’

How strange, she’d seen Shona, minus bump. She must have been delirious. Believe me, Shona’s bump is hard to miss now, she’s six months gone.

‘Don’t go,’ Eilidh said again and she looked a wee bit frailer, a bit more tired than she did a minute ago. She closed her eyes.

No, I won’t go. Of course I won’t. What could ever keep me from you?

‘You’re leaving soon … You’re going to Australia,’ she said all of a sudden, as if she’d just remembered.

‘Don’t think about that now.’

‘It’s ok, your dad and I are here, we’ll look after you,’ said Rhona, leaning over her, but Eilidh didn’t lose that frightened look.

‘When are you going?’

‘Well, we’re due to leave next month, but …’

‘Don’t go. Stay with me.’

‘Eilidh, be reasonable …’ said Rhona.

‘I didn’t want to ask you … I didn’t want to stop you … but I am asking you now … stay with me.’

I was speechless. Rhona looked at me with strange hostility. That took me by surprise, too.

‘Eilidh, for heaven’s sake, he can’t just cancel everything at the last minute, the world doesn’t revolve around you.’

I looked at Rhona incredulously. Even with her daughter in a hospital bed, she couldn’t help having a little dig. But Eilidh ignored her; her eyes didn’t leave mine. She had that look on her face, a vulnerable look, like a little girl, and yet, there was a strength in her that didn’t seem to waver.

I thought, I’m not going anywhere.

‘I won’t go. I’ll phone Emily tonight. I won’t go. I’ll look after you,’ I said.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hand still in mine.

‘I think you’ll find that
we’ll
look after her, Jamie. I don’t understand who gave
you
the right …’

We were walking out of the hospital, Rhona having only just managed to keep her spitefulness from brimming over in Eilidh’s room.

‘Rhona, I don’t intend to take over. I just want to help.’

‘Some help. She got all agitated—’

‘She thought I was going to Australia, she didn’t want me to.’

‘You always have an answer, don’t you? Just like that sister of yours, like she knows everything. You might not be going but we are. Eilidh is coming with us. We’re going back to Southport and we’ll see she gets the best care money can buy.’

‘Have you asked her? Have you asked where
she
wants to be?’

‘Don’t you raise your voice with me, Jamie McAnena. She’ll go with us because she has no choice. Who’ll take care of her? Peggy?’

‘I will.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ I flinched. ‘I spoke to the nurse. Even when she can leave here, she needs specialized care. She won’t be able to do much for herself for a few weeks, do you realise that?’