Postcards at Christmas Read online

  ‘It’s too early to say. He is stable at the moment, which is a good thing, but we’ll have a much better idea this time tomorrow. Until then we have to wait and watch. But please be assured that we are doing everything we can to identify and treat all his injuries. We also need his body to process the alcohol in his system.’

  I’m horrified.

  ‘Alcohol?’

  The doctor looks at me in a way that tells me that this is not surprising, as if alcohol has touched every broken body she sees in Accident and Emergency.

  ‘Mr Blake had been drinking when the car hit him,’ she clarifies. ‘The driver said that he was in the middle of the road when she came round the corner. There was no way that she could have stopped in time.’

  My natural instincts are to challenge her. This can’t be my Simeon that she’s talking about. He is not so stupid as to get on a bike and attempt to ride it when he’d had a drink. I know him. He would never do that. But what would be the point of contradicting her. She is obviously telling me the truth.

  ‘He’ll have the CT scan and then we can talk again. In fact’ – she checks her watch – ‘he may have already gone down.’

  ‘Can I see him?’ I ask.

  She shakes her head. ‘Just at the moment we are working hard on getting him stable and doing tests. You probably won’t be able to see him until tomorrow. You can wait in here or outside with Mr Blake’s friend.’

  At first, I have no idea who she’s talking about and then I remember Mark and everything falls into place like the tumblers on a giant lock.

  That’s why Simeon had been drinking. Mark had put him up to it.

  Things start to make more sense to me. Simeon would never have had a drink unless he’d been egged on by his so-called friend. I’d already seen Mark’s modus operandi. The pub had been the first thing he’d wanted to do when he arrived yesterday. Of course it would have been him that made them stop for a drink today. Simeon knows how dangerous it is but Mark would have shamed him into it, making crass jokes about Sim being under the thumb.

  And now Simeon is in a coma and might have brain damage, or worse. And it’s all Mark’s fault.

  9

  I don’t know how long I sit there in that room. I don’t go out into the corridor. I can’t bear to see Mark and I don’t trust how I will react if I do. My phone buzzes a couple of times. It’s Beth wanting an update. I quickly type a jagged résumé of where we are but when she messages back wanting more details, I let it go unanswered. I can’t waste energy typing. I need it all to focus on sending it to Simeon.

  I should contact his parents but they are away on a cruise to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They don’t have a mobile phone so someone will need to get a message through to the ship. It will ruin their holiday but what if I don’t tell them and . . . I can’t even bear to form the thought in my head. I text Beth. It’s a big ask but I know she’ll sort it out for me.

  I am desperate to see him but they continue to say that I have to wait. I check my watch constantly but the hands never seem to move round the dial. Each minute feels like an eternity. Every time I hear footsteps in the corridor outside, I sit up, expecting them to come in and give me some news and then fall back into despair when the door doesn’t open and the footsteps fade and then disappear. The not knowing how he is and the feeling of utter helplessness that this brings is unbearable.

  Eventually, the doctor comes to find me and gives me the initial results of the scan. She says that as far as they can tell there are no additional injuries but that the continued swelling of his brain means that they can’t yet get a good idea of what is going on there. They will keep scanning until they get a clearer picture and until then we just have to wait. He is still in a medically induced coma.

  ‘You should go home,’ says the nurse that comes to check on me a little later. ‘There’s nothing you can do here just now,’ she says, her voice gentle and laced with kindness. ‘You’d be better getting some rest so that you’re ready to support him when he wakes up.’

  ‘But what if he wakes up while I’m gone,’ I ask desperately but she just shakes her head.

  ‘The doctor will keep him sedated to give the swelling a chance to go down. He won’t wake up. You really should get some sleep.’

  Defeated, I nod my head. There is Lily to think about too. It’s almost dawn and Beth can’t stay looking after her forever. She’ll need to get back to her place to see to Samson for one thing.

  And so, I set off down the corridor towards the door to the outside world. I’m not quite in touch with myself. It’s as if this is all happening to someone else, like it’s a film. And then I hear someone calling my name. I turn around and see Mark jogging down the corridor towards me, his cycling shoes clicking on the hard floor.

  ‘Cara, wait. How is he?’

  I don’t stop walking.

  ‘There’s no news,’ I say flatly. ‘They’re sending me home to get some rest.’

  ‘That must be good, though,’ he says anxiously. ‘I mean, if he’s stable.’

  ‘I’m not sure how being in a coma can be good,’ I snap.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Sorry. Listen, could I get a lift back to your place with you? The police took my bike and I don’t really know where I am.’

  He smiles at me but when I don’t respond his smile slips and then fades entirely. I would rather saw my own leg off with a penknife than spend time with this man. Suddenly, I can no longer keep all the fear and anger of the last few hours inside me.

  ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ I scream at him, totally ignoring where we both are. ‘I know you made him go to the pub. Are you a total idiot? He could have been killed. He might still die. And it’s all your fault.’

  He looks devastated as I scream at him. His face goes the colour of the creamy hospital walls and tears spring to his eyes.

  ‘We only had a pint,’ he said. ‘It was nothing. The drinking had nothing to do with the accident.’

  ‘And yet here we are,’ I spit. ‘Simeon is back there fighting for his life. Are you seriously telling me that spending the afternoon in the pub had nothing to do with it? Do you think I’m stupid?’

  ‘Honestly, Cara. He was sober. It was just an accident. There were these—’

  ‘That’s not what the doctor said,’ I snap back, not letting him finish his sentence. ‘And he would never have been in the middle of the road if he hadn’t been drinking. He’s careful. He knows how dangerous those bends are. This is your fault,’ I repeat but the venom has drained from my voice now. I’m too exhausted to shout at him anymore. And anyway, I don’t really have a choice. I can’t just abandon him. He is Simeon’s best man. He’s in a hospital in a city that he doesn’t know dressed in entirely inappropriate clothing and without proper footwear. He has nowhere to stay and no money. I have to take him home with me.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘But we’ll have to have get a taxi. The police brought me here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says quietly.

  We find a taxi and it drives us home. We don’t speak, each lost in our own thoughts. Once or twice I start to cry but he doesn’t try to comfort me which is probably wise. I just sit and sob until it passes and then wipe my nose and wait for the next onslaught of emotion. The taxi driver doesn’t even attempt to enquire.

  It’s six thirty by the time we get back to the house and the sky is just starting to glow with a hazy pink light. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning. The expression is so ingrained in my mind that it just pops up even though I’m so exhausted that I can barely remember my own name.

  Beth is sitting at my kitchen table. Lily is in her high chair happily drinking her milk. Life here appears to be unchanged. Except for the fact that Simeon may die.

  She leaps up as we come into the room and throws her arms around me. I dissolve into her and she holds me tight whilst I cry. I know that I shouldn’t fall apart in front of Lily but I can’t help it and I stay there, safe in Beth’s arms, until my
tears finally subside. When I pull away from her, my face hot and my eyes stinging, I realise that Mark has made himself scarce upstairs. I’m grateful for that, at least.

  Beth asks where things have got to and I explain to her as the doctor explained to me.

  ‘Well, it’s good that there are no internal injuries,’ she says, always searching for the positive in any situation.

  ‘But they don’t know about his brain,’ I counter. ‘He might never regain consciousness.’

  ‘You can’t say that,’ she says. She pulls a strand of my hair off my cheek where it has been stuck by a mixture of tears and snot. ‘They often put the patient in a coma in cases like this whilst they assess the injury. The chances are that the swelling will go down of its own accord. There might not be any permanent damage.’

  I hear what she’s telling me and I know that she’s a nurse and so has a better idea about the way these things work than I do but I am not ready to be told this yet. My head is still catastrophising.

  ‘But he might die!’ I say, not accepting her comforting words.

  ‘Yes,’ she agrees calmly. ‘He might. But he might make a full recovery so why don’t we try to focus on that.’

  She nods at Lily, who is now babbling cheerfully to herself, totally unaware that her daddy is lying in hospital on life support fighting for his life. I pluck her from her high chair and hold her tight to my chest. At first, she struggles against me but then she lets me squeeze her chubby form. The warm, sleepy scent of her downy head makes me want to cry all over again. What if she never gets to know her daddy? What if . . .

  ‘You should go to bed,’ Beth says. ‘You need all the sleep you can get right now. You’re in shock and your body needs to process that before you can be any use to Simeon. I’ll stay here and look after Lily. I’ll have to take her round to my place so that I can walk Samson but that’s no problem. After that we can have a little wander into town, can’t we, Lily?’

  I nod weakly, suddenly totally drained.

  ‘You go and get into bed and try not to worry.’

  ‘But the hospital . . .’ I say.

  ‘If they ring, you’ll wake up,’ she says. ‘I promise.’

  And so I go upstairs. I don’t get undressed. I just fall on our bed as I am and crawl underneath the duvet. And then I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  10

  BETH

  I hear Cara’s bedroom door close and suck in a huge breath which I then blow out slowly between my teeth. I wasn’t going to say so to Cara but this doesn’t sound good. It doesn’t sound good at all. Serious head injuries are dangerous things and there’s no telling what damage has been done by the impact and might still be being done by the swelling or any bleeds.

  Whilst the friend in me wants to reassure Cara, my professional training tells me that we are very far from out of the woods. Even assuming Simeon comes round, even assuming minimal actual damage to his brain, he is facing a very long and difficult road to recovery. It’s going to be challenging for both of them.

  Shit. Last night we were chatting and laughing and deriding the men gently for being late home for tea and now this. Cara and Simeon’s lives as they have known them might be over forever.

  ‘Beth?’

  The voice makes me jump. I had forgotten that there was anyone else here but there stands Mark. He looks dreadful. He’s still wearing his Lycra jersey and shorts. He must be freezing, poor man. And starving too as he can’t have eaten since lunchtime yesterday.

  ‘Oh, Mark,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry. You must be in bits. Can I get you some breakfast?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘I think I should just get off,’ he says. ‘I’m obviously in the way here.’ His eyes track upwards. ‘She thinks it’s all my fault.’

  ‘I’m sure she doesn’t,’ I reply. ‘She’s just upset. And when Simeon wakes up he’ll want you here.’

  He gives me a look that tells me that he’s being as realistic as I am about Simeon’s situation. Who knows how long that might take if it even happens at all?

  ‘But you shouldn’t just rush off,’ I continue. ‘Stay until the end of the weekend at least, like you planned.’

  He shakes his head again. ‘Believe me. Cara doesn’t want me here.’

  His shoulders slump and he rubs at his helmet-head hair with a dirty hand. There’s none of the cockiness, perceived or genuine, of the other night. He too is in shock, I realise. He was witness to a close friend being hit by a car. He had to wait with him for the ambulance, not knowing whether Sim would live or die and powerless to do anything about it. Then he’s been awake all night in the hospital and probably feels that he must take the lion’s share of the blame. The last thing he needs is to get on a train back to London.

  ‘Come back to mine,’ I say. ‘I can look after Lily as well there as here and I have to go and feed my dog anyway. You can have a shower and some breakfast and then we’ll decide what to do.’

  He nods at me gratefully.

  ‘Get your bag and we’ll go.’

  I scribble Cara a note and gather nappies, formula and a change of clothes for Lily. When Mark reappears, his bag slung over his shoulders and his cycle shoes replaced, rather comically, by loafers, I feel almost positive. I am doing something. I am helping.

  We let ourselves out quietly. Easter Saturday is just getting started and the street is buzzing with people and cars but no one takes a second glance at the woman with the pushchair and the man dressed for cycling, except for his shoes.

  We head up the hill towards the moor, although this morning it is shrouded in a heavy grey mist. It occurs to me that Mark might not even know that it’s there, hidden beneath the weather.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ I ask but he shakes his head.

  ‘Never been north of Watford,’ he says.

  I’m about to have a fit but then I see him smirking at me. I tut and roll my eyes.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says sheepishly. ‘Couldn’t resist. I’ve not been to Ilkley before but my mum comes from Preston, so I’ve spent a fair bit of time up north.’

  ‘In Lancashire!’ I object. ‘That doesn’t count. You do realise that this is Yorkshire. I’m not sure I should even let you over my threshold!’

  He laughs at this and for a second or two a little bit of the tension lifts from his features.

  ‘Seriously, though,’ he adds, his grin slipping. ‘Thank you for this, Beth. I’m really grateful.’

  I just smile and shrug. Then the reason why I’m playing knight in shining armour to him suddenly comes back to me and I can’t quite trust myself not to cry.

  ‘God,’ I say angrily. ‘This is all so shit. Why did it have to happen now, just when everything was going so well for Cara? It’s crap.’

  ‘Simeon told me about all that family stuff she had to deal with,’ he says. ‘It must have been tough.’

  ‘It was awful,’ I agree. ‘But she’s a fighter and she pulled herself through. And she can do it again. I just wish she didn’t have to.’

  We reach my cottage. I can hear Samson scrabbling inside as soon as I put my key in the door and the moment it opens he’s there, bouncing up and down and trying to lick our faces. My dog-training skills leave a lot to be desired. Mark doesn’t seem bothered though. He kneels down and fusses Samson’s ears and face affectionately.

  ‘He’s a beauty,’ he says as Samson relishes the attention, his tail wagging ten to the dozen.

  ‘He is,’ I agree. ‘My ex hated him. In the end, it was him or the dog and the dog won!’

  I send Mark upstairs to use the bathroom whilst I feed Samson, give him a comfort break in the garden and warm a bottle for Lily. By the time Mark comes back down, I’ve made coffee and put some breakfast things out. He homes in on them straight away.

  ‘I’m starving,’ he says as he pours himself a large bowl of cereal. ‘We missed dinner.’

  I think of the casserole that Cara and I had shared before any of this had happened. In
fact, we were probably just tucking in as the car hit Simeon. This thought brings tears close to the surface but I don’t want to cry in front of Mark. He has enough to deal with as it is. He doesn’t need an emotional stranger to add to his list. But he sees my eyes welling up and he comes over and just wraps his arms around me. It doesn’t feel awkward – the comfort of strangers, I suppose. We stand there for a few moments absorbing each other’s body heat. He smells of my shower gel.

  When we break apart we both slip back into practical mode.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ he asks me. ‘I don’t want to get in anybody’s way but I don’t want Sim thinking that I just abandoned him and ran back to London.’

  I see his dilemma. Cara isn’t going to want him around her. She needs her space. My cottage is tiny, especially with Lily in it too. Then I see a solution.

  ‘Why don’t you stay here?’ I say, ‘and look after Samson. He’s clearly taken to you. I’ll take Lily back to Cara’s and I can sleep in their spare room and look after her there. How does that sound? It’s a bank holiday weekend so I assume you’re not due back in London until Tuesday.’

  He nods. ‘My train is on Monday afternoon,’ he says.

  ‘Well, that’s perfect then.’

  We swap mobile numbers and I give him Cara’s too, just in case. I tell him where the supermarket is and give him a spare key and then I have a quick shower and change and head back to Cara’s, leaving Mark, a virtual stranger, with the run of my home.

  11

  CARA

  I jerk awake in a cold sweat. I sense that something is wrong but I can’t quite get a grip on what it is. The house is quiet. Too quiet.

  Lily!

  I sit bolt upright but as I do so I see the empty bed next to where I’ve been lying, the pillow smooth, the sheets cold, and I then remember. Simeon.

  In a panic I fumble for my mobile phone to check for missed calls. There are none.

  I look at the time. It’s ten thirty in the morning. I must only have slept for a few hours but now I’m wide awake. In the street outside I can hear cars coming and going. For most people it’s a perfectly normal Saturday morning. I want to lean out of the window and tell them to stop what they’re doing. Don’t they know that Simeon is fighting for his life in hospital?