Читать книгу Willow Cottage – Part Four: Summer Delights - Bella Osborne, Bella Osborne - Страница 7

The hospital corridors were busy again with visitors trooping in and out. Rosemary and Carly were waiting in the queue in the canteen. Neither of them wanted to eat anything but both knew they had to. Cormac had decided to skip lunch because he’d had a large muffin with a coffee not long ago so had sent the women off to eat together. Carly didn’t know Rosemary that well. Fergus’s parents flew over to London a few times every year but visits were fleeting and Carly often found she was there mainly as an interpreter. She didn’t mind, it was Fergus they came to see, she knew that, but it did encroach on any conversation she might have had with his parents. They hadn’t said much to each other since they had been sharing the bedside vigil – the music conversation had been the most they had interacted.

Rosemary looked at Carly’s bowl of soup, which was rapidly going cold on the tray. ‘You still a vegetarian?’ she asked. Rosemary must have been struggling for things to talk about too.

‘Yep, still a veggie.’

‘Not much choice, is there?’ said Rosemary, poking her packet of unappealing sandwiches.

They paid for their food and found a recently wiped-down table to unload their trays onto.

‘How long are you staying?’ asked Carly. ‘I’m thinking that Cormac will need to be back at work tomorrow, won’t he?’

‘He will. But I can’t leave Fergus.’ Rosemary shook her head as she wrestled with the sandwich carton. Carly held out her hand and Rosemary passed it over. Carly opened the carton and handed it back. ‘Thank you.’

They ate in silence. The soup was still warm and surprisingly tasty. Carly realized that she hadn’t eaten anything substantial since she and Beth had walked through Chinatown, which now seemed such a long time ago. An incident like this put all your usual structures out of kilter; drinks and food were grabbed randomly through necessity at any time of the day or night, hours passed and time lost any meaning. Carly had a very real fear that something might happen, good or bad, when she was away from the bedside, which had become an overwhelming power that made her not want to leave. She had gone hours between toilet breaks in case something happened while she was away.

Rosemary pushed the remains of her sandwich back into the carton. ‘Would you mind if I stayed with you when Cormac goes home?’ she asked, and Carly’s eyes shot up from her soup, a spoonful suspended en route to her mouth. ‘It’s just that I’m none too keen on staying in a hotel on my own, you see.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Carly, recovering herself. ‘It’ll be company for me too.’ What else could she say?

‘Now, you’re sure you don’t mind?’

Carly’s mind flashed back to the flat. She had barely noticed anything when she had gone back to change but she knew the sofa was still a made-up sofa bed that Beth had slept on. Their bedroom was chaos; she had flung her clothes on the bed on top of the numerous outfits she had previously left there when she had been deciding what to wear to her engagement party and there was definitely no milk in the fridge. Rosemary was waiting for a response.

‘I don’t mind, but you might. It’s a bit of a tip because …’ She suddenly wanted to tell her about the engagement because if she didn’t tell her now when would there ever be a right opportunity? Her hand instinctively went to her pocket to check the ring was still there and it was; the shape of it under the fabric of her jeans reassured her.

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. I quite like to tidy up, that’ll be something I can do to help you,’ said Rosemary, leaning across and laying her hand on Carly’s. ‘Perhaps we could have a rota so there’s always someone with Fergus.’

Carly wrestled with her conscience. Fergus wanted to tell his parents about the engagement face to face, she knew that, but when would that be? Beth came into her mind. She knew what Beth would say. She would tell her to stop and think. And she was right, now was not the time. Any pleasure at sharing the engagement news would be short-lived because Fergus wasn’t able to celebrate with them. She’d have to wait. She turned the ring over in her pocket and left it there as she put her hand back on the table.

When they returned to ICU Cormac pretended that he hadn’t recently woken up. Carly noticed the curtains were drawn around a nearby bed where a teenage motorcyclist had been since last night. She could hear muffled sobs from his family and feared the worst. The thought that at any moment that could be them struck her like a falling tree.

Rosemary retook her place next to Fergus and Carly stood totally still, staring at the drawn curtains. ‘Are you all right?’ Cormac asked, looking concerned.

‘No. There must be more we can do. We can’t just sit here waiting for him to …’ She knew there were two ways she could end that sentence. ‘You said there was always something!’ She jabbed a finger at Cormac although she knew he wasn’t the source of her frustration. They shouldn’t have to be working out where Rosemary was going to stay or how she was going to speed-tidy-up the flat so that his mother didn’t think she was the slovenly sort. They should be planning a wedding and arguing over guest lists and seating plans, not working out a rota of who was going to sit with Fergus in case he woke up or … She felt crosser than she ever had before, with the possible exception of the time when Fergus was juggling with the flat keys and managed to drop them down a drain. She wanted Fergus back and she wanted him back now.

‘Is there something you want to do?’ asked Cormac gently.

‘Yes, I want to do something! Argh!’ Carly was tired and beyond frustrated. She marched round to her side of Fergus’s bed thinking that she and Rosemary must look like a pair of statues or, worse still, gargoyles.

She picked up the iPhone and scrolled back to the teenage Fergus playlist they had put together earlier, selected ‘The Ketchup Song’ and pressed Play. She took Fergus’s limp fingers in hers and spelled out the track for him. She squeezed his hand but he didn’t respond. She clutched it tightly and tried her best not to cry.

Cormac was watching her closely. He walked round to her and crouched down. ‘You’re a lovely girl, Carly,’ said Cormac, his face sincere. ‘You’ve brought back the old Fergus.’ He spoke slowly and melodically while Carly stared unblinking at Fergus. ‘After the illness he wasn’t himself, he took the hearing loss hard. In shock he was, to tell the truth. Lost his job and his self-confidence. Terrible thing to watch something like that happen to your child.’ Cormac shook his head as if remembering. ‘And then you came along with your kick-up-the-bum attitude and he was determined to learn sign language so that he could talk to you.’

Carly turned to Cormac, still crouched at her side. ‘Did he say that?’ she asked, engrossed in the alternative side of the story she knew so well.

‘He did. You put the fire back in his belly, so you did. We couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend for our boy.’ Cormac opened his arms and Carly leaned in for a hug. She didn’t mean to cry but she didn’t seem entirely in control of the tears; at the moment they came and went at will as the emotions ebbed and surged.

A strained voice from the bed made them spring apart. ‘Fiancée. She’s my fiancée.’

Jack was sitting on the back step of the ambulance when Rhonda pushed past the police and ran to him.

‘A customer came in and said there was an ambulance, a fire engine and police.’ She waved her arms about, just missing Jack’s head. ‘What the hell has happened here?’ continued Rhonda, scanning the front garden and taking in Jack’s naked torso. Jack went to lift up his mask and Clark wagged a finger at him so he left it in place.

‘It was the boiler. It must be faulty and it’s poisoned Beth,’ he said. Rhonda’s hand shot to her mouth and she looked back at the cottage. ‘They’ve taken her to hospital. Petra went with her. They tell me she’ll be fine.’ Jack gave a sideways glance at Clark, who saw his cue to join in the conversation.

‘Proper hero he is. Saved her life, risked his own. Mind you, that wasn’t so smart.’ He handed Jack a clipboard and paper. ‘There you go, you need to sign that if you really won’t let me take you to hospital.’ Jack scrawled something similar to his signature on the bottom of the form.

‘If he says you need to go to hospital, you should go!’ said Rhonda, putting her hands on her hips.

‘Leo is missing,’ said Jack, his voice anxious.

Rhonda looked like someone had slapped her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘He was with me at the pub but he wanted to put his big Easter egg somewhere safe at home. I should have walked him to the door instead of watching him because once he was past the willow tree I couldn’t see him and I assumed—’

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Rhonda, cutting him off. Her eyes alternated from his face to his ripped torso.

‘It is my fault,’ said Jack, standing up. He held on to the ambulance until he was sure of his steadiness.

‘Go to your GP tomorrow, ask for a blood test to check your carboxyhaemoglobin level,’ said Clark. ‘Take this with you.’ He tore off a carbon copy of the form and handed it to Jack.

Jack saluted him, took off the oxygen mask and swapped it for the form.

‘What shall I do?’ asked Rhonda.

‘We need to search the village.’

‘I can round a few people up to do that.’

‘Great. If Leo’s here we have to find him fast because when Beth comes round he’s the first person she’s going to want to see.’

‘If he’s here?’ questioned Rhonda, her forehead creased into a deep frown worthy of someone far older.

Jack didn’t want to share what was going through his head and as Rhonda’s expression changed to horror it appeared he didn’t need to. Dark thoughts were dominating his mind. He guessed it was down to the carbon monoxide but he could still picture Beth lying on the sofa and the awful sensation that had accompanied it when he had feared he was too late to save her. Question was, was it too late to save Leo?

Jack splashed his face with water. He was tired and dirty. His body ached and his head still throbbed. He’d left Rhonda checking for Leo at the last few houses and gardens on the village green while he got himself a T-shirt. It appeared that the sight of him topless had rendered a couple of women speechless and was definitely distracting Rhonda. Doris was very pleased to see him and was nudging her food bowl round the kitchen hopefully. Jack went upstairs to get a clean top and Doris followed him, then peeled off to the spare bedroom where he could hear her making odd little grunting noises. He pulled the top over his head and took a peek at what Doris was up to. She was rolling on the sleeping bag with her legs in the air.

Jack smiled at her. ‘Come on, Doris. Does it smell of Leo?’ Doris got up and trotted past him and down the stairs. Jack looked from her to the sleeping bag – he had an idea. After a full two minutes of waving the sleeping bag under Doris’s nose, feeding her a treat and repeating ‘Leo’ countless times he felt they were ready to give their experiment a go. He clipped on her lead and they set off in search of Leo.

The police were now stepping up their interest and another patrol car had parked by the green. Leo had been missing for nearly an hour and nobody had seen him since he left the pub. Jack was mentally berating himself for not having waited a few more minutes. If he had would he have seen that Leo couldn’t get inside? Would he have found Beth sooner? Whatever way he thought about it he knew Leo would be safe if he hadn’t taken his eyes off him and the guilt made him feel sick.

A picture of Beth laughing flashed through his mind but was instantly replaced by a picture of her lying motionless on the sofa. His heart clenched when he thought of her in hospital. The thought of losing her scared him more than he thought possible. He pushed it out of his mind; he couldn’t be in two places at once so he needed to deal with each problem in turn.

He headed for the tearoom; if anyone had a handle on the latest news it was Rhonda and Maureen. He opened the door and the bell announced his presence. ‘Any news?’ he asked.

Rhonda shook her head while she loaded a tea tray with cups and saucers and Maureen plonked down a full teapot. ‘Nothing,’ said Rhonda, her eyes surveying his clean T-shirt. ‘There’s two groups and they’ve searched all round the green and now they’re spreading the net wider.’ Rhonda sounded like she was giving a report on Crimewatch.

‘One lot have gone towards Henbourne,’ said Maureen, her usual gruffness somehow softer.

‘The others are doing a wider house-to-house,’ chipped in Rhonda. ‘We’ll do tea for them all when they’re back.’

Doris was pulling to get inside, drawn by the smell of cake that was wafting out. ‘Great, thanks, ladies.’ He pulled Doris back and set off towards the cottage. He stopped by the willow tree and parted the fronds to peer inside, but there was no sign of Ernie. Come to think of it, Jack hadn’t seen Ernie all day. He told Doris to sit and because he had a treat in his hand she obeyed instantly.

‘Leo. Doris, find Leo.’ He gave her a treat, she inhaled it and wagged her tail. He stood up straight. ‘Find Leo,’ he repeated. Feeling like a prize idiot he checked no one was watching over his shoulder. Doris certainly didn’t look like a sniffer dog but he had to try. Doris stared at him hopefully but remained sitting and lifted a paw. ‘This is useless. Come on.’ They set off past the pub and down to the ford. Two groups of parents were sitting on the grass nearby where a few children were running about in the water and some others further up were feeding bread to the ducks.

‘Have you seen a young boy here today? Six years old, dark hair?’ he called. They all shook their heads. He marched on over the small footbridge and out of the village. He’d walk his usual jogging circuit as he didn’t have the energy or lungpower to run right now.