Читать книгу Blindsided - D. White E. - Страница 13

‘She’s dead!’

‘Listen to me. Put both hands on the centre of her chest, one on top of the other. Are you doing that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now push down hard and fast. Don’t be afraid to push too hard. You can help her …’

‘I’m doing it! I’m fucking doing it, okay?’

‘Great. Well done. Keep going. One, two, three, four … I’ll stay with you until the ambulance arrives. Is the door unlocked?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Keep going. One, two, three, four …’

‘I can’t …’

‘It’s okay. Keep going, sweetheart, you are doing so well. The ambulance is nearly with you.’

‘I can hear sirens.’

‘Keep going.’

‘Oh, the police are here!’

‘It’s okay, just keep going until the ambulance crew take over.’

‘They’re here!’

‘Okay, you can hang up on me now. Well done, Holly.’

Holly drifted back to consciousness, fighting her way through the ragged remains of nightmares. Her own brother’s girlfriend and she hadn’t saved her … It was like a knife, jabbing quickly, mercilessly under her ribs.

Her eyes darted around the room as she took deep breaths, feeling her pulse slowing down to normal. At least they were home now, and she was in her own bed, in her own house. She hadn’t had that dream for ages, and the memories were unwelcome, dripping through into real life, into her perfect real life that she had so carefully constructed. Except it wasn’t so perfect anymore. Tom had turned into a cheating bastard, and she was left struggling to pay the bills on her own. Not to mention his charming text messages. Since the accident she’d had only one more, but she was now seriously considering telling DC Marriot about them.

She struggled out of bed, feeling the twinge in her leg, adjusting her weight to compensate. But she was okay. If she kept telling herself that, she might even start to believe it. After all, the hospital had given them the all clear and discharged them both; medically they must be all right. Milo was calling from his room now, something about a dragon egg hatching into a wolf. She could do this. ‘Coming! Can you reach your crutches okay?’

‘Yeah, I just want to show you this really cool evolving dragon egg!’

Holly pulled a thick fleece on over her pyjamas and staggered towards his room, pushing away the dregs of the nightmare, focusing on what was important. But she couldn’t help thinking about the other boy. The silent, pale child still lying in his hospital bed, who had nobody to shout for, nobody to claim him. The rush of protective emotion she had experienced after she found him in her car was still there.

Her aunt was already busy crashing around the kitchen downstairs, making one of her famous fry-ups. Holly, who preferred to get at least two cups of coffee down before she even thought about food, felt her stomach heave slightly at the smell of bacon.

But Milo was soon sliding down the stairs on his bum, dragging his crutches behind him, apparently desperate for food. ‘Lydia, can you leave my eggs all runny please and can I have a sausage too?’

***

‘Lydia, I’m fine. I can do it.’ They were sitting in the living room, which after Lydia’s assault with the Hoover and dusters was unusually clean and tidy. Milo was drawing at the kitchen table.

‘Holly, you most certainly are not fine. You told the police someone almost ran you off the road, and now they seem to think all kinds of things about how this other boy got in the car. Before you say a word, you know I believe you. As if you wouldn’t say if you knew who he was! That DI Harper sticking his beak in around here again isn’t going to help anyone, is it? Now what’s all this about you thinking you’re going back to work on Monday? You’re barely back on your feet!’

Holly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Don’t be so dramatic. I have to go back to work because I need the money. You know I always work overtime shifts to cover the extra on the mortgage, now Tom’s gone.’

‘You should move house, get somewhere smaller instead of killing yourself working all hours. Come back to the Seaview, love,’ her aunt told her. Then her expression softened. ‘Of course, I’ll have Milo when you’re working as usual, but give yourself a break, love. The two of you have only been out of hospital for a few days.’

‘Thanks, Lydia.’ Holly smiled at her, silently adding that whilst she was still sane and breathing there was no way on earth she was going back to live on the Seaview. The mirror opposite the sofa reflected them, so similar both physically and mentally. With the pale winter sunlight shining through the window, casting a gentle glow across her face, Lydia looked so much like Holly’s mum.

Lydia was the older sister, pushing sixty-eight now, but the black curls were glossy and as usual she was heavily made up, with red lipstick and lashings of dark eyeliner. Lydia’s husband had died four years ago, and she had dealt with the grief as only she could – by joining a swanky health club and spending lots of money on clothes.

Lydia had no kids so she had always had a lot of time for Holly and her brother. She could have moved off the estate years ago, but she said she was happy in her flat. Her husband, Mick, had invested in property and a bar in Spain, and Lydia said as soon as Holly was settled she’d go and live in the sunshine.

The older woman got up and moved over to the window. ‘At least you haven’t had any reporters hanging around in the last few days. Whilst you were in hospital they were parked out front for a bit, even knocking on the door when I was over stocking the fridge, and I told you I went over and had a word … I get that it’s a good story but they’ve got no right to turn up on your doorstep. That poor boy … I just keep thinking why the hell haven’t his parents reported him missing? It really gets me to think maybe he doesn’t have anyone, any family to worry about him …’

The phantom child in Holly’s car was a great story, but so far both police and journalists had drawn a blank. A police appeal had been on the national news, giving sparse details and focusing on the fact that somewhere, someone must know a child was missing. Her name hadn’t been mentioned but from her previous experience she knew journalists had ways and means of tracking people down. Although DC Marriot had told her the boy seemed to be improving and the most recent scans were encouraging, nobody could really be certain he was okay, until he regained consciousness.

She would go back and visit him this week. Perhaps subconsciously he would know that somebody was looking out for him. In a weird way he had been given to her, and she felt responsible until another superseded her claim.

‘Do they know who the other boy is yet?’ Milo asked suddenly, abandoning his drawing and hopping into the living room. ‘I mean, what if they already know who he is but they aren’t telling us?’ He was fiddling with the TV remote, half his attention on the task in hand, half focused on this intriguing subject. He’d brought it up numerous times every day since they’d been out of hospital. After a couple of days of being pale and withdrawn, he had gradually recovered his bounce and confidence. But the questions were the same: Was the boy conscious yet? Why was he in the car? Who put him there? Lately he had started on this conspiracy theory, and become convinced the police knew the boy’s identity.

DC Marriot’s colleague, DS Steph Harlow had carefully questioned Milo, but he said he remembered nothing after the deer leaping across the road, until he woke up in hospital. When Holly reminded him what he had said about the man leaving the other boy in the car, his chin set stubbornly and he shook his head. The nurse told her later that the memories could come back, but it was also possible that now Milo was fully awake, he was simply blocking out the whole traumatic event, and even if he did remember, he didn’t want to share it.

The doorbell rang and Holly made a move to get up, even as her aunt went to the door, her high-heeled fluffy mules tapping on the wooden floor. She could hear the initial stilted conversation, and frowned. Great, Tom was the last person she wanted to see. It was a shame he couldn’t have stayed abroad. He had returned from his overseas lecture tour two days after the accident, but had made sure his visits to Milo in hospital didn’t coincide with Holly’s. Then, reassured by the medical staff that Milo was on the mend, he had resumed his tour, and departed for a further three days in Berlin.

‘Dad!’ Recognising the voice, Milo scrambled for his crutches and hopped proficiently out of the room.

‘Hallo, mate, how are you doing?’

‘Yeah, I’m okay. Mum’s doing well too, says her leg is nearly better but mine is actually broken.’

‘I know. I wanted to come back sooner, but I needed stay for this work conference … Still, it’s all done now. Want to see what I bought you?’

‘Yes! Am I coming to stay with you when Mum goes back to work?’

‘Come inside properly then, and I’ll show you your present.’ Tom had been walking down the hall as he greeted his son but now they both appeared in the doorway. Tom was carrying a large square box, wrapped in shiny green paper.

Holly nodded politely at her ex-husband, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. The sight of yet another expensive present for Milo made her wince. She supposed he was doing it to make up for the divorce, but it made things awkward, and highlighted the fact she couldn’t afford to buy her son expensive presents. Her aunt scowled at Tom, muttered something about a cup of tea and vanished into the kitchen.

‘So, Holly, how are you feeling?’ He was clearly forcing himself to be civil, and without waiting for an answer he carefully pulled Milo close to his side, dropping a kiss on his blonde head. ‘Thank God Milo is okay.’

She managed to respond to this. ‘Yes, he’s fine now. He’s going back to school on Monday. Milo, can you go and help Lydia while I chat to your dad? He can come and play football with you in the garden in a minute, okay? And then you can open your present too.’ Holly smiled. ‘I did say he shouldn’t be playing football, but he’s determined to be goalie at the very least.’

For a split second they shared a look over Milo’s head. A tiny golden moment that reminded Holly of when Milo was first born, and they used to stand next to his crib, watching him sleep, totally in awe of this tiny human being they had created. But then it was over, Tom’s expression changing to one of disdain as he spotted her roster on the coffee table.

‘Are you really going back to work?’

‘Of course.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I need to earn money somehow, remember?’ She turned back to Milo. ‘Go on, sweetie, go outside for a bit while I speak to your dad.’

He frowned, looked from one to the other and then reluctantly hopped towards the kitchen.

Holly looked at Tom. His brown hair was just slightly too long, his navy tweed jacket worn over a crisp blue-striped shirt that emphasised his dark blue eyes. He had picked up a faint tan, despite the fact that he always complained he never saw the outside world when he was on a lecture tour. He smelt of his usual expensive aftershave. Once, the combination had turned her on, but now she wanted to throw up. It was such a cliché to have fallen for her university lecturer. Even more of a cliché to have imagined she could ride off into the sunset with him.

She had a sudden flash of memory – Jayden sitting on her bed, seizing her book, chucking it out the open window, and telling her fairy tales were total bollocks. As an elder brother he had clearly felt it was up to him to lay down the law. He must have been about eight when he said that, but she had already grown taller than him. Little git.

‘Are you really managing with the mortgage repayments? I would have thought you should be thinking about downsizing,’ he said, sitting casually on the sofa. Tom’s upper-class voice was light, almost disinterested, but she was sure there was a bit of sarcasm in there.

Memories stung. She had been in love with him, she was sure of it. Now he had moved on. Another young woman, another home, soon probably another kid on the way. Lydia was one of only two people who had ever expressed doubt over Holly’s choice of husband. He had fooled most of them with his charm and good looks. ‘We’re fine, thank you for asking. I’ve been doing overtime.’

‘Still working in the call centre? You should have finished your degree, Holly.’ His smug, self-satisfied face was highlighted by the crisp winter light as he stood, poised in front of the big bay windows like an actor on stage.

The unfairness of this statement made her catch her breath. ‘Whatever you want to think. I’m sure we don’t need to meet up to go over the childcare arrangements for the next month, so why don’t we just do this by email in future. It’ll save us both the hassle,’ Holly told him. She hated herself for still searching his face some kind of affection, anything but this cold, amused sarcasm. Why did he hate her so much? She should mention the texts, she really should.

‘I’m sure that will be fine. Beth is so good at working out my diary, and now we have the spare room organised Milo can come and stay for the weekends.’ His eyes were challenging her to comment.

‘I’m sure he’d like that. While he isn’t in the room, Tom, I would like to speak to you about something.’

His expression was wary, and he leaned back a little, away from her.

‘I can’t pretend that everything is okay, and that I’m not still unbelievably hurt by what you did, but you made your choice.’

‘You threw me out remember, Holly. It wasn’t my choice at all. You’ve changed since you’ve been working. Why you couldn’t just get a job that fitted around school hours instead of shift work, I don’t know.’

It was an old argument, and she wasn’t going to get sucked in. ‘You tell yourself whatever you want, Tom. We can be civil for Milo’s sake, and we can make sure he is still loved and cared for.’ She took a deep breath, and met his eyes. ‘But you need to stop asking for him to come and live with you. He is getting so confused. You also need to stop sending me shitty text messages. Why are you so mad at me, when it’s you who cheated on us?’

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay civil for long … Thank you, Lydia.’ He smiled at her as she dumped two mugs of tea on the table.

Lydia scowled back at him, deliberately ignoring his words. ‘I’ll go into the garden with Milo for bit,’ she said, addressing her words exclusively to Holly. Her dark eyes, almost hidden by the weight of her false lashes, were flashing with indignation, but she silently swapped her mules for shiny red stilettos and tottered out of the room.

‘Thanks.’ Holly waited until the back door banged, and then she turned back to Tom. ‘It isn’t me who isn’t being civilised about this.’

‘I don’t know what text messages you are referring too, but I don’t think any of mine can be classed as shitty,’ he told her.

Holly reached over to the table and pulled her phone towards her, her injured ribs tweaking as she did so. She scrolled down and pushed the device towards Tom.

He picked her phone up delicately, as though it was something insanitary. His expression was blank, as he read down the list of vitriol, but when he came to the end his brows drew sharply together, slightly thin mouth pursed. ‘I don’t know what game you are playing, Holly, but I didn’t send these.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘They’ve come from your phone.’

‘I can see that, but I didn’t send them. This one … last week – you don’t surely imagine I would say that about you?’ Tom’s eyes were dead, blank, and his mouth was set in a thin line, daring her to contradict him. ‘Are you going completely mad?’