He just had to be patient for a few more days. He felt the anger when he closed his eyes. He could feel the prickle of it under his eyelids. He would hunt for what was missing.
It was his burden, his alone.
Chapter Six
Ashleigh tapped her fingers impatiently on the countertop at the nurse’s station. The smell of the grapes that she’d bought from the gift shop made her want to puke.
Where had that stupid nurse disappeared to? One minute she was talking to Ashleigh the next minute she was responding to some alarm, rushing off down the hallway as if her hair was on fire. Did they have any idea how inconvenient the visiting hours were in this place?
The journey into the city had taken almost forty-five minutes. That was forty-five minutes of her life she would never get back again. Ashleigh scanned the countertop, looking for a buzzer or a call button, something to hit to lessen the frustration that was building inside her.
She had put this visit off as long as possible, but the questions about Kara were getting more persistent. Everyone wanted an update. The school counsellor had stopped her in the corridor yesterday.
‘Ashleigh,’ she began, her turquoise jumper bobbled around the cuffs. ‘Any news of Kara?’
‘No, Miss Sutton. Still the same.’ Ashleigh sniffed, pretending to tear up.
‘The principal got a phone call from Mrs Bailey. I thought there’d been some improvement.’ The counsellor was looking at her intently. Ashleigh closed her eyes for a moment, her brain wheeling for inspiration. She began to cry. Crying on demand was a skill she had perfected at an early age.
‘Oh, miss,’ she said. ‘It’s so terrible. Kara’s putting on such a brave face for them all, for the doctors, for her stepmother, but she’s in so much pain. And there’s nothing I can do for her. Every time I visit I feel so . . . so useless. My best friend . . .’ She took out a tissue and blotted her eyes, blowing her nose loudly. ‘I can’t do anything to help her.’
She let her shoulders shake a little, her eyes downcast, just the right amount of vulnerability, sprinkled with a touch of guilt.
Miss Sutton stepped towards her, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sure Kara appreciates the time you spend with her. I’m sure your presence is a support as she strives to recover.’ The counsellor gave Ashleigh a sympathetic look. ‘Come and see me at any time if you want to talk. You know my door is always open.’
Ashleigh had nodded her head, sniffling fresh tears.
The stupid cow.
All that crying, her eye make-up ruined, for what? So that she could keep the nosy counsellor on side.
The whole thing was stressful. On the upside, she had secured three days absence from school and an extension on two pieces of coursework.
And now here she was, Ward B, third floor. All around her, rooms were filled with sick people; some of them might even be dying. She shuddered at the thought.
Where had that stupid nurse gone? Why was everyone so incompetent? If her father had been in charge, this place would be whipped into shape. If you give people too much leeway, they will take advantage of you; that was one of his many sayings. She banged on the countertop in frustration, the grapes in her hand flopping their complaint. They looked a bit worse for wear, some of them about to turn, their skin wrinkling. Still, she mused, they were reduced to clear, so what did she expect?
Ashleigh thought about Ben. He’d been really shocked when she’d turned up on his doorstep the night of the accident. His face had turned white when he’d seen her. She thought at first that he had heard the news and the sight of her had triggered some kind of delayed reaction. But that wasn’t it. He’d come out on to the porch and closed the door behind him. She waited for an invitation inside, but none came. He was hiding something and she was determined to find out what.
It was almost lunchtime; visiting hours would be over soon. She had timed this trip precisely so that she would have an excuse to leave after only a few minutes.
It looked like the nurse wasn’t coming back. Ashleigh peered over the countertop. She reached for a pen and a scrap of paper. Quickly she scribbled a note for the nursing staff. She left the grapes on the counter. Someone would give them to Kara, eventually.
Day Thirteen:
It was hot, so hot. Her skin was on fire. Kara’s throat was dry, as if she’d been chewing sand. Everything hurt; her entire body vibrated with pain.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. The air travelling up them stung the same way lemon stings a paper cut. She should open her eyes. It was time to face the horror. Her eyeballs burned as she blinked.
Someone was snoring. The sound was muffled, then clear, then muffled again, like the volume control in her head was messed up. Black dots danced in front of her vision.
The snoring continued. Gingerly, Kara moved her head, testing its rotation. She cautiously swivelled her chin round to the right-hand side, towards the origins of the noise. Rosemary was slumped in a chair, her mouth half open. Kara could see a sliver of spit dangling from the corner of her lip.
‘Ugh,’ she muttered.
Rosemary’s head flew up, her gaze skidding around the room before finally focusing on Kara. ‘You’re awake.’
‘Ya, obviously. How could I be talking to you if I were asleep?’
Rosemary didn’t respond. She tugged the end of her shirt, brushing some of the creases from her clothes.
‘Why are you here?’ Kara asked unkindly.
‘I was waiting till you woke up. See how you felt.’
‘I feel like I’ve been run over by a fucking bus. That’s how I feel.’
‘OK,’ answered Rosemary. ‘Now that you’re awake, I think I’ll get a cup of tea.’ She stood up stiffly and left the room, ignoring Kara’s hostility.
Kara frowned. She wanted to punch something, really, really badly.
Day Fifteen:
Why are these here? I told the stupid nurse to get rid of them.
The smell from the grapes was overpowering, sickly sweet. They sat in a plastic bowl next to Kara’s bed. One of the nurses had put them there with a folded note. Kara had read it several times.
Dear K. I called but you were sleeping. Get better soon. Ash
That was it. That was all the note said. Two weeks had passed and her best friend had called to see her once, leaving a brusque note behind.
Kara wanted to go home. She could feel the press of unshed tears at the back of her eyeballs.
Where the hell is Rosemary?
Kara had to go to the toilet and she wasn’t going to ring the bell for assistance. The last student nurse knocked against the stitches on her upper arm and it hurt, badly.
‘Ugh!’ Kara flung back the bed covers. ‘I have to do every-bloody-thing myself.’
She moved her legs, one limb at a time. There was a pair of crutches resting against the far wall. She slid to the edge of the bed, the rub of the sheet against her skin an unpleasant sensation.
With her lip tucked in between her teeth she eased forward. Her toes were inches from the ground. Slowly she stood up, her plastered leg clumsy. She hopped towards the crutches, stumbling once. Slipping the grey arm cuffs on over her arms she smiled tightly in triumph. Manoeuvring around was a little problematic with her broken leg. She wasn’t very steady. Her elbow knocked into the bowl and it toppled over, bouncing with a plastic clunk on the linoleum.