Читать книгу The Fallout - Rebecca Thornton - Страница 14

I’m taken into a waiting room, whilst Jack is rushed into the operating theatre. Gav arrives soon after, motorbike helmet clamped under his arm. I stand up, and we hug. Something we haven’t done for months now. It doesn’t last long. I extricate myself from him, terrified about what’s coming next.

‘What happened?’ he demands as he crosses his arms and takes a step forward, encroaching into my space.

‘He fell.’ I take a step back from him.

‘How?’

I’d worked out the explanation already, yet now that Gav is here I’m finding it hard to speak.

‘He was climbing.’

‘Climbing what? A tree?’

‘No.’ I lower my head. ‘He was outside The Vale Club. In the playground.’ My vision tunnels.

‘And?’

‘Look, please,’ I tell him. ‘I was with Thea. She was screaming.’

‘That’s not what I’m asking you.’ I look into his eyes. Ever since we’d separated and he’d moved into a different area of the house, he’s been distant, unreadable.

‘He was outside. In the sandpit.’

‘And you were doing what, exactly?’ His voice takes on a menacing tone. ‘Can you please explain? That’s my son in there.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Again.’ Cold rises up in my blood and I take another step back. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.

‘I was … I told you. I was with Thea. He was fine.’ I think back to just before it had happened. How Thea had just fallen asleep. How finally, that day, I thought I’d have three minutes to myself. Until Sarah had turned up with Ella Bradby.

‘He was fine. Sarah checked on him seconds before. He obviously …’ I trail off, unable to think of his small body impacting the ground. I swallow. ‘The doctors are, well, they’ve been good.’

‘What have they said?’

‘Nothing much. Just rushed him into theatre. They think he might have damaged his neck.’

‘Damaged? What the fuck do you mean, damaged? Broken?’

‘Gav. Please.’ I cover my mouth with my hand. ‘Please. Keep your voice down.’ I’m used to Gav’s emotions going from zero to a hundred miles per hour within the space of a few seconds.

‘You weren’t watching him, were you? Busy in that café with Sarah? Please, just tell me you were doing your job as a mother.’

‘I was,’ I try, but the words sound hollow. ‘I was. He was fine.’

‘And you trusted Sarah? What did she say? That he was OK?’

‘She said,’ I look up, trying to recall what she had said. ‘She said that she had waved and that he was fine.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have left it up to Sarah. She’s so dopey sometimes she wouldn’t notice if her arse was on fire.’

‘That’s not fair. And nor is it relevant.’

‘What about the club then? How could they have something so dangerous? In the kids’ playground. I’m going to fucking have them. I’m going to …’

‘Listen.’ Now he’s turned his attention to The Vale Club, at least it’s off me and Sarah. ‘We have to focus on Jack.’

‘Well, it’s all relevant. He was under your watch, after all.’ He stares me down. I know what he’s thinking.

‘Look.’ My voice comes out in barely a whisper. ‘He was in the sandpit. I had seen him minutes before. Sarah checked on him. There’s nothing else that we should have done. I know that … I know you’re thinking of …’ I can’t bring myself to talk any further, but I don’t have to because he takes a big breath. The room feels dry.

‘If anything happens,’ he points a finger at me but then tempers himself, rubbing his face with both hands.

If anything happens, then what, I want to say but I sit down, defeated.

‘And I’m going to make sure they damn well do an investigation into all this. The club. Someone’s going to have some answers. I want answers. I’m going to sue.’

This is the thing about Gav – he always needs answers. Even when there aren’t any. I’m torn between pushing the spotlight off me – and the fact that I hadn’t been outside with Jack – and getting Gav onto the fact that it might have been The Vale Club who was at fault. Eventually, however, he runs out of steam and we sit in silence, Gav fidgeting in his seat. He picks up his motorbike helmet, clicks and unclicks the clasp over and over. I give him a warning look but he carries on.

I’m scared. So scared. I’ve been through every single outcome of the fall. From the best to the worst options. Jack is alive, but what about his quality of life? What if he never walks again? One of my greatest fears come true. And then all these other fears start careering through my mind. If he is paralysed will we be able to afford it? How will I cope? I don’t want to be thinking of money at a time like this, but we’d have to make arrangements. Change the house. Maybe Gav’s right? Maybe we should sue? Maybe that’s the only way we’d get enough to pay for his care. I try and be sensible and give myself the advice I’d give Sarah. Wait and see what the doctors say. Stop making things up before they’ve happened. But I feel sick at the thought of my son going through all of this.

‘Please can you stop making that noise with your helmet,’ I finally snap. ‘I’m finding it distracting.’ He stands up. ‘I mean, not you,’ I add quickly, in case it makes him flare up again. I’ve just got more important things on my mind right now than stepping on eggshells around Gav. ‘Just the noise.’

‘I’m going,’ he says. I feel the familiar stone drop in my stomach. Where to, I want to ask, but I keep my mouth shut. ‘I need to know what’s going on.’

He walks out of the room and I start to sob. I pick up my phone, mainly as a distraction from the sensation of dread hanging over me. There’s a text from Sarah. About Thea. My God. Thea. All this time I haven’t even thought of Thea. I feel the tingle, the swelling of my milk ducts. Oh God. She needs feeding. I am a shit mum.

All ok with Thea. We’ve given her formula. She’s fast asleep. We’re thinking of you. We’re here for you if you need anything at all.

Thanks, I text back. Still waiting. Jack in surgery. Can Thea stay the night in case we aren’t back? Not sure what’s happening.

Of course, comes the swift reply. Don’t think about anything other than Jack. Let us know any updates if you can Sx.

I start typing a reply. Telling Sarah that she needn’t berate herself about what happened, but I put down my phone. I’ve got to concentrate on the matter in hand.

The doctor comes in with Gav. She’s still in scrubs, her dark hair pushed up under her cap. She’s very pretty, with kind features and a reassuring expression, which makes me want to start crying all over again. I stand up and go to Gav’s side. Without realising it, we are gripping each other’s hands.

‘I’m your surgeon, Mahim Qureshi,’ she says. ‘Nice to meet you. Sorry I didn’t catch you both earlier.’

Please, tell me he’s going to be all right, I plead in my mind. I’ll die if he’s not. I’ll die.

‘Jack is going to be OK,’ she says. ‘He’s going to survive.’

Gav snaps his head up, ripping his hand out of mine. ‘Survive? What do you mean, survive? I had no idea …’ I will the doctor to start talking, to put us out of our misery.

‘He had a very lucky escape,’ says Dr Qureshi, looking at me. ‘He’s broken a wrist. And he’s had a greenstick fracture on the seventh cervical vertebra. That’s to say that in adults, it would have resulted in a clean break. But children’s bones are a lot more supple. We’ve operated on his wrist but you’ll have to keep him lying down for the next few months whilst his vertebra repairs and he’ll have to be in a neck brace. He’ll be able to move a tiny bit. But it’ll be painful for him and we can’t be a hundred percent certain that it won’t have a future impact on things.’

For a second, I think about asking what things but I’m unable to process everything she’s saying to us. The only words that are flashing through my mind right now are survive and lucky escape.

‘So he’ll be OK? He’ll be able to walk again properly and everything?’ I ask, desperate to hear one more time that he’s going to be all right.

‘With the right care and support. But at the moment, I cannot stress to you how important it is that you keep him still. No knocks. The bone needs to heal right.’

I think of how the hell I’m going to do this but then I don’t care. I don’t care. He’s alive. He’s going to be OK. I feel like collapsing with relief. My boy. My beautiful boy. It’s all going to be OK. I start to cry.

‘You might want to arrange things at home so that …’ her gaze flicks from me to Gav, ‘it’s comfortable and easy for you to reach him.’

‘We’re …’ I can’t bring myself to use the words, even though it has been weeks now.

‘We’re not together any more,’ Gav finishes for me. I look over at him. His presence fills the entire room. ‘But I still live there and am watching Liza and the kids all the time.’

He glances over at me. I imagine him ending the separation. How we might be able to make things work if I can show him that we’re meant to be together. That we are a family unit of four. That I’m a good person. A good mother, who has just made some mistakes in her life.

‘It’s OK,’ says Dr Qureshi. ‘I’m sure you’ll work it out and we’ll send support for you, of course.’

I think about our house. My room in the loft. Jack’s on the floor below and the living area two more floors beneath that with a spare room attached to the end, where Gav sleeps.

I’ll move downstairs, or move Jack to the bottom room, and then we can be together. Thea can be in the … fuck. My mind feels like it’s spinning with all the options. Gav would never, ever agree to moving back upstairs to the room we used to share. And I can’t move downstairs to be nearer Jack – I wouldn’t be able to cope with being on the same floor as Gav, breathing down my neck all the time. And besides, Jack would pick up on the bad atmosphere if we’re forced to spend long periods of time together.

I’d begged Gav, after all, to move out. To end things in a better, cleaner way than him still living in the house. But of course, he’d refused over and over.

‘I’m staying. To watch you,’ he’d warned me.

What am I going to do?

And then, a flash of an idea. And I think about Sarah’s earlier text.

If you need anything at all.

Sarah and Tom. Their lower-ground-floor flat. It would be perfect. They aren’t getting it developed for another year. Maybe, just maybe, I could ask if we might stay for a bit. We’d all be on one floor. Me, Jack and Thea. I’d have to get Gav onside, and no doubt he’d be over every five minutes. But I’d know that Sarah and Tom would be right upstairs if I needed them. It would work perfectly. If I could get them to agree. Do I dare ask?

‘I’d best get back but I’ll come and see you later to answer any questions you have,’ says Dr Qureshi, leaving the room.

We both sit and my phone pings. Sarah.

What’s going on? I can’t stop thinking of you all.

He’s ok. Fractured his neck.

Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Liza, I’m so sorry.

Why are you sorry? I’m just grateful you were there to take Thea.

What does that mean? He’ll be able to walk again, won’t he? Will he be ok?

Doc says he’ll be ok. But very difficult. We won’t be able to move him at all for a bit otherwise it’ll disrupt his healing, so he has to lie flat on his back. It’s going to be tough. For him mostly. And I think she said there might be knock-on effects. But was too overwhelmed to ask what they were. I feel so upset for him. He should be running around in the park with his friends. Not lying like this in a bed for the foreseeable future.

I think about asking her there and then. Just come out with it. She wouldn’t say no now. But then I tell myself to slow down. Wait, at least, to find out if Jack is going to be OK. Focus on his recovery. And then, only then, will I think about how to move on from this.

To: J.Roper@westlondongazette.com

From: 54321@freeserve.com

Hi

I saw you’ve been covering quite a lot of The Vale Club’s new opening of late. I’m not sure if you’ve got some form of tie-in with them but I thought you might like to know that there was an accident there earlier today. A small boy fell off from high up a post in the playground. I believe he is ok but I thought you should have a look at what went on – us residents and members would be keen to know the truth behind it all.

Yours,

Derry