Читать книгу The Fallout - Rebecca Thornton - Страница 12

Just as Ella and Sarah start up a new conversation, there’s a piercing scream. It’s not Jack. But somehow, call it maternal instinct, I have a feeling it might be to do with him. I half get up, then sit down. Silly. Don’t pander to anxiety. Of course it’s fine. But by then, people have begun to rush through the café, and my heart is slamming around my chest, the blood rushing to my head. The waiter is coming with our coffee. He’s stopped too and is looking over towards the noise.

Everything has me on edge at the moment. The slightest sound. Someone banging into me. When Cecilia Williams had given me a ‘look’ earlier when I’d bribed Jack to shut up with some crisps, I’d even used the ‘F’ word. I know, I know – I’m not proud of it. It was a shitty thing to do. But not that shitty. And the only reason she doesn’t do such a thing is because she has ten hundred nannies. And, well, Jack just wouldn’t freaking stop. And then I’d given him another whole fistful of crisps in front of her, out of spite.

And anyway, Jack was fine only a few minutes ago. Sarah had said so. And Ella had too.

I start to feel calmer, waiting for things to revert back to normal. But then the entire place goes silent. Sarah keeps flicking her eyes over to the window and Ella – well, Ella keeps clearing her throat and looking down at the menu and I’m thinking, really? What’s the point? You know you aren’t really going to order anything other than that sodding green juice, so why bother? Or is she just calculating how many calories she’s managing to restrain herself from? But then the silence continues and that’s when I can’t hold out any more.

‘Jack,’ I cry. And I swear to God, I swear it, I catch a look between Sarah and Ella. I can’t read it. I would dissect it later but, right now, it’s a look that says: Oh my God. Look at her. Look at the crazy bitch overreacting.

And I think – maybe I am? Maybe I am crazy? All this shit going on in my life, maybe it’s sent me over the edge. I think about how much Sarah knows. If she knew the whole truth, she’d be doing more than just giving Ella a look. Honestly – what had she been thinking bringing her over here? I’d outright told her that I wasn’t interested in being in touch with her again. When I’d seen her earlier in the soft-play, that bad feeling came over me. Why had I pointed her out and put Ella back onto Sarah’s radar again? I wonder what part my subconscious had to play in it all. I’d told myself not to be so silly. That maybe I was projecting. I’m full of bad feelings at the moment, but now she’s here, giving Sarah those looks; maybe I wasn’t so wrong after all. Not only has she brought back associations of everything that happened, but it seems the minute she walked back into our lives, mine and Sarah’s friendship has been immediately thrown slightly off balance – I’d been trying hard enough to keep it steady for a while now, what with Sarah’s moods and the way she takes everything to heart, but now everything feels uncertain.

‘I’m going to see what’s going on.’ I stand up. ‘Sounds like something bad.’ I’m trying to be casual. Acting like I’m just a lame old nosey parker but my voice gives me away. I gesture for Sarah to watch Thea but just as I’m about to walk off, I hear the Tannoy.

‘Mr Blue arriving soon, please keep access clear.’ Now it’s Sarah’s turn to exchange looks with me. She brings a hand up to her mouth.

We know that the club has code announcements for different emergencies. Silly ones like, ‘Can Mr Harry Potter please come to the front desk’ (a child has gone missing) or ‘Can Mr Snape call into reception’ (I’ve got a really difficult customer, please send back-up). But I hadn’t heard this one yet and the speaker doesn’t draw breath before she announces it again. I hear something whisper as it falls to the floor, and I realise I’ve dropped my parka. Before I know it I’m running towards the café but there’s no one there. And then I see a commotion by the playground.

I look around, my head twisting across the space. Then I see him. On the grass. The cricket pitch. How on earth did he get there? The only way to reach the pitch from the playground is if he had climbed over the high fence that was obscured by a tree. But – he wouldn’t have done that. Surely. He wouldn’t be capable? Or maybe he had walked back into the building and out again, via a different exit. But … but … I start to hyperventilate.

‘Get out of the way,’ I scream. ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong with him? I’m his mother.’

Someone’s opened the gate to the cricket pitch. I run through. No one budges at first. Of course, people always look twice, given how dissimilar we are. But then I push someone, hard.

‘Move,’ I hiss. ‘That’s my son.’ And that seems to do the trick. Everyone moves to one side and there I see his little body, his black hair flattened across his head.

I lean down over him, but I’m breathing and shaking so hard I’m worried I’ll hurt him even more. At first, I can’t discern what’s wrong. His large brown eyes look at me and then to the fence.

‘I saw him. Falling,’ screams a lady. Her hands are by her mouth and she’s trying to swallow but she keeps making this weird, gasping noise.

‘Where’s the ambulance?’ I’m hysterical now. ‘Are there any doctors here? Put a message out.’ I’m trying so hard to be calm but it’s like the breath is being squeezed right out of me.

There are no obvious injuries on him, but something tells me it’s serious. His small chest flutters up and down. He’s still breathing OK. But his eyes look desperate. A small whimper escapes from his mouth.

‘Oh God. My darling. My boy. It’s OK.’ I stroke his head, careful not to press too hard. ‘I love you. I love you so much. You’re going to be OK.’ Another whimper.

I think about picking him up. I shift myself back but then I feel force on my shoulder.

‘Ma’am. Don’t move him.’ I turn my face to see that the paramedics have arrived. I hear the sound of their stiff uniform as they bend down. The quickness of their breath. There’s two of them. A man and a woman. I hold Jack’s small hand for a bit but then the man asks me to step aside.

And then I remember. Thea. But when I turn around, she’s already there. Oh God. Sarah’s at the side of the crowd, holding her in one arm, clutching Ella’s elbow with the other. Both of them white.

‘I’ve got her,’ Sarah mouths, nodding down at Thea, who looks so tiny in her arms. I shut my eyes briefly. I think I’m about to be sick. Everything’s falling apart. And then a voice inside my head. No, that happened already long ago.

One of the paramedics is talking to the woman who said she saw Jack fall. I can’t hear exactly what she’s saying. Part of me doesn’t want to know. Part of me just wants him in safety. But then I hear something about three-point protection. I think about where I’ve heard that phrase before. In an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Bile swills around in my stomach.

‘Darling,’ I say. ‘You’re going to be OK. I promise you. OK?’ I think about Sarah and how she’d checked on him only moments before.

Yes, she had told me. Yes. He’s absolutely fine. Sarah. Poor Sarah. I know how bad she’ll be feeling. Thinking that she should have brought him in with her. That she should have stayed with him.

I’ll tell her. After this whole horrendous nightmare is over, I’ll tell her. No one could have done anything different. It was just one of those things, I’ll say. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine.

And then it crosses my mind that I should have been watching him more closely and that I shouldn’t have left it to Sarah. But she’d seen him. It was OK. And then the thought swiftly disappears. I have more urgent things to worry about.

‘Please, God,’ I mutter. ‘I know I’ve failed you many times. But if you are there, please, please help my little boy.’