* * *
By the time Sophie returned to her pitch in Costa, Katie had managed to locate a highchair and was coaxing Laura into eating baby-grade macaroni cheese.
‘Hi. Any news?’
‘Not really. It’s likely to be hours yet. You ought to go home.’
‘Sophie, don’t talk rubbish. Anyway, I’m getting really good at this feeding thing. Quite a lot of it’s gone in her mouth. I hope the highchair isn’t covered in antibiotic-resistant germs. There’re messages everywhere about disinfecting your hands with that squirty stuff.’
‘And have you? Used the squirty stuff?’
‘No.’
‘No, neither have I. Do you want me to take over?’
‘No, just sit. And tell me what happened.’
Sophie sat down, looked at Katie and sighed. ‘He was leaving us. No explanation. Just that he’d found someone else and that was that: case, clothes, washbag, library book. He didn’t even take a look at Laura before he dragged his case outside.’ She described the sequence of events from the moment she ran out after him. Katie continued to manoeuvre stodge into Laura’s reluctant cheeks. Sophie frowned. ‘You don’t look that surprised.’
‘I’m not. Well, I’m surprised about the accident and his ear but, well, he’s a shit.’
Sophie gaped at her. ‘I didn’t realise you thought that.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. It’s just stuff Paul told me. Last time we – air quotes – spoke. He said Jonah told him he should never have let himself be coerced into marriage. Because marriage and kids are a liability when you want to move on. And that’s why he refused to, you know, marry you.’
‘But men always say things like that.’
‘I saw him.’
‘What?’
‘Right after Easter. When he was supposed to be in Africa. I didn’t tell you because Laura was so little. And…’
‘Where did you see him?’
Katie held the macaroni spoon still. ‘You remember I attended that seminar? In Exeter? Hoping to find my new man. Well, I went to this restaurant for a supper-cum-shag with this jerk I’d just met and Jonah was in there. With this flaunty woman.’
‘Exeter? No, he was in Mauritania. It probably just looked like Jonah. They say everybody has a doppelgänger.’
‘That’s what I thought. Anyway, I suggested to the jerk that we have a quick cocktail and then go straight to the hotel for the shag. Jonah’s BMW was parked outside.’
‘Are you sure?’
Katie handed her the spoon and reached for her mobile, scrolled down her photos then held the screen towards Sophie. And there, unmistakably, was an image of the back of Jonah’s car: the Royston Computer Solutions bumper sticker; the offending boot that earlier that day had played its part in Jonah’s miserable fate. Katie swiped back to the previous photo and held it steady. ‘I took this through the window.’
Sophie frowned. It was definitely Jonah. She wasn’t sure she recognised what he was wearing but it was definitely his thick, black hair. His dark eyebrows. The woman opposite him was laughing. They were holding up their glasses, ready to clink. And then she noticed, pulled Katie’s hand closer to be sure, narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
‘Katie, he’s wearing a wedding ring.’
4
The hours passed slowly, punctuated by an expedition to the ladies’ to put Laura into her sleeping bag, a trip to the restaurant on Level B and several returns to those two incriminating Exeter images. As the evening plodded by, Laura slept in her pram and Katie and Sophie lounged uncomfortably on a couple of hard chairs. Sophie ventured over to the Neurological Unit twice and was given very little information. On both occasions, she managed to find her way back to the lift without the need for a ball of thread and, along the way, she did a lot of thinking about Jonah clinking glasses in Exeter when he should have been in Mauritania. Perhaps they were jumping to conclusions. Perhaps he’d come home via Exeter to visit some company or other. A company that woman worked for. And she’d taken him to dinner. Perhaps wearing a wedding ring was Jonah’s way of not getting involved. He wouldn’t have bothered to mention it. He never discussed his business affairs with her. It was almost midnight when Sophie nudged Katie and insisted she go home because she had to go to work within hours and this was really her dilemma and hers alone.
‘I’ll phone in sick.’
‘No, Katie! People who phone in sick never get promoted. And I can’t see me getting away from here for hours. I’ll ring you as soon as there’s any news.’
‘Will you be all right on your own?’
‘Yeh.’
Katie rubbed her eyes. ‘Sophie, what are you actually doing here? I mean, surely you’re not going to let him move back in with you?’
‘Well he didn’t actually manage to move out, did he? And he is Laura’s father.’
Katie shrugged. ‘OK, Soph. Phone me the minute you need me.’
‘I will. And drive carefully. I don’t want you finishing up in a ditch because you’re exhausted. That would be something else to hold against Jonah.’
‘Perhaps it would help tip the balance.’
‘Yes, well, don’t do it.’
Sophie watched Katie disappear towards Reception then settled back into her uncomfortable chair, determined to stay awake, just in case someone attempted to steal Laura. Babies had been stolen from hospitals in the past, albeit usually newborns. She was surprised, therefore, to be jolted awake by a woman in scrubs and informed that Mr Royston was now in Intensive Care and a surgeon was available to discuss the situation if she came straight away. She jumped up and checked Laura was still in her pram, checked her watch: one twenty. Laura hadn’t stirred since falling asleep at around eight. At least Jonah had presented her with this situation when Laura was still young enough to be contained in a pram.
Back on Level B, Sophie left Laura with the woman in scrubs and was escorted into a side room, empty apart from a bed, a person whose head was swathed in bandages – presumably Jonah – and a mass of equipment to which he was attached. Even his eyes were bandaged over and the place where his mouth ought to be was blocked by a fat tube, which fed into the machine that was breathing on his behalf. No chair. She waited. After a few minutes, a doctor walked in, shook her hand and introduced himself as Ben Donovan: grey haired, weary, green scrubs, a red splodge just below his knee. Nice manner. He explained that Jonah’s skull fracture had caused some damage to the surface of his left dorsal cerebral hemisphere. The protective layers had been ruptured causing leakage of cerebrospinal fluid and, obviously, some moderate bleeding into the intracranial space. They were not able to anticipate the extent to which neurological function might be compromised by this. It had been necessary to remove fragments of bone and a small amount of superficial brain tissue and he was being held in an induced coma for the moment. Did she have any questions?
Questions? Yes, she did have questions. For a start, what did removing bone and brain tissue mean? If you remove fragments of skull bone, does the person’s skull grow back or does it always have a hole in it? Was the small bit of brain they removed the bit that contained all Jonah’s intelligence? Would Jonah still be able to do his puzzles with a piece of his brain missing? He loved his puzzle books. What was she thinking? She’d been a biologist once. Those higher things, like intelligence and memory, they all functioned deep inside the brain, not just immediately under a skull fracture. Didn’t they? She needed to ask. But all she heard herself say was: ‘What about his ear?’