To her relief, a line of taxis waited outside the blackened stone entrance. On the way to the big Midland Hospital she gazed at the numbingly familiar streets without seeing a yard of them, only willing the traffic to move faster. She was afraid of what she would find, but longed for the slow journey to be over. The Asian driver tried to chat to her, then gave up after a glance in the mirror revealed that there were glassy tears on his fare’s cheeks.
At the doors of the IT unit, a nurse intercepted Beth and led her into the waiting room. Beth saw her mother sitting with Lizzie. Jess’s body was rigid and her face was transparently pale except for black shadows under her eyes. With a wash of sympathy that was still tainted by resentment Beth thought, This is the worst for her. If it was me lying in there instead of Danny she would be unhappy, but she wouldn’t look like this. Always, Danny was the one.
She felt sometimes that she had made her escape to London just to avoid this simple truth.
As they jumped up Lizzie saw the pleading, hungry, uncertain look that Beth darted at her mother. The two women went to her and held her between them.
‘Mum, what’s going to happen?’
Jess hugged her close. ‘We don’t know yet. They’re doing everything. Everyone keeps saying so. We’re waiting to see the neurosurgery consultant after his round.’
‘I got here as quickly as I could. It took for ever.’
‘It’s all right. There’s no change. I’m so glad you’re here,’ Jess said, as she had to Lizzie. She stood with her daughter at arm’s length, studying her face, then touched her cheeks with her fingertips. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘I’m okay now I’m here. I want to see him.’
‘We have to wait until after the surgeon’s round.’
The scope of the waiting was only just becoming plain to them. Every minute that painfully stretched into an hour had to be waited through.
‘Is Dad coming?’
Jess nodded. Ian’s response had been immediate. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can get a flight.’ He loved Danny, of course.
At last Beth stood beside the bed. Dispassionately the machines did their work. Then she leaned close so her cheek almost touched his and whispered, ‘Dan. It’s me. It’s Beth, can you hear me?’ When the only response was the sound of the respirator and flickering traces of the monitors she straightened up again.
Looking across at her mother and aunt she thought for the millionth time how alike they remained, even though they had evolved so differently. They were close in a way that excluded everyone else; in the whole world only Danny was more important to Jess than her sister was. Almost all her life, Beth had understood that with her mother she came a poor third.
Now she said coolly, ‘Can I talk to him on my own for ten minutes?’
Jess was going to protest but Lizzie restrained her with a touch on the arm.
‘Come with me, Jess. We’ll get a coffee or something.’
After they had gone Beth sat down on a stool at the bedside. She held Danny’s hand.
To begin with ‘I’m sorry’ was all she could think of to say.
It was only recently she had begun to think of her brother as an ally instead of a rival. When they were children Danny had always been quick and handsome and strong. She had been shy and serious, lacking the self-confidence that Danny revelled in. In everything except schoolwork she had been slower and weaker. She had longed fiercely to be his equal, but in Jess’s eyes she never could be. Her mother had shielded her from his mockery and bullying, and defended her against the world, but Beth knew she was never admired the way her brother was.
‘Mummy’s girl,’ Danny used to jeer at her.
But it was the opposite of the truth. Beth was closer to her father, and Jess was eternally seduced by Danny’s bright, careless energy. She forgave her son everything, even though he was often in trouble.
Beth thought of these things as she held Danny’s hand and tried to convey to him that none of them mattered now.
After Beth had left home, Danny and she had begun to grow close in a way they had never approached before. It was as if, once their parents’ uncomfortable marriage had ended, the two of them had been set free to like each other without competing. Danny had lately even been down to stay with her in her flat in London. She had taken him to the theatre, and he had taken her clubbing.
‘We had a good time, didn’t we?’ she asked him aloud. ‘We can do it again. I won’t complain about techno music if you don’t complain about boring theatrical crap.’
‘Can he hear me?’ she asked the nurse.
‘We believe all our patients can hear.’
Beth fixed her eyes on his waxy face. He seemed almost hidden by the tubes and bandages.
She whispered urgently to him, ‘Come on, Dan. Come back. Don’t leave me alone now, after all, after everything.’
After examining Danny the consultant took the three women aside.
‘I’m afraid he isn’t responding very well,’ he said gravely.
‘What does that mean?’ Jess asked.
‘His reactions to stimuli are less marked than they were last night. The outlook may not be very bright. I wish I could tell you more, or something different, but for the moment we can only watch him and wait.’
Jess looked straight into the man’s eyes.
‘You are doing everything you can?’
‘Everything.’
Unable to bear the familiar confines of his room any longer, Rob went out into the rain. Exhaustion and hunger, as well as shock, began to make him feel disorientated; he knew that last night he had been under arrest, that today he must go to the police station with a solicitor. There was a duty solicitor available; the police had informed him of that. But some independent instinct made him want to appoint his own legal representative.
He stood on the corner of the street, measuring in his mind the distance he would have to walk into the centre of town. It was quite a long way. In his head there were repeating images of his van smashed into the bridge, of Danny lying on the verge. All Rob’s tools for work were in the back of the van; what would happen to them? Even as he thought of this he was ashamed that he should consider it worth worrying about.
He began to walk, pushing himself into a rapid clockwork stride although his body felt disjointed, almost dismembered. An hour later he was waiting in a legal aid solicitor’s reception area. The solicitor’s girl receptionist took one look at him and hurried into a back office.
A man came out to see Rob. He was young, dressed in a tie and a clean shirt, Hugh Grant hair. A public schoolboy, Rob thought, as the solicitor held out his hand for Rob to shake awkwardly with his left one. He introduced himself as Michael Blake.
‘You’d better come and tell me what’s happened,’ he said, showing Rob into an office.
