was Maguire’s response, far from ecstatic to hear from me, though I was surprised he remembered my name.
‘I’ve been calling you for two weeks. I’ve left you messages.’
‘I got them all right, they clogged up my voicemail. There’s no need to panic. You’re not in any trouble.’
That knocked me off. It hadn’t crossed my mind that I would be in any trouble. ‘That’s not why I was calling.’
‘No?’ He feigned surprise. ‘Because you still haven’t explained to me what you were doing in a deserted apartment block on private property at eleven o’clock at night.’
I was silent as I mulled this over. Almost everybody I knew had asked me the same thing – those who hadn’t were clearly wondering about it – and I hadn’t given anybody an answer. I needed to change the subject quickly before he tried to pin me down on it again.
‘I had been calling to ask for further details on Simon Conway. I wanted to know the funeral arrangements. I couldn’t find anything in the papers. But that was two weeks ago, so I’ve missed it.’ I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. I was calling him for more information; Simon had left an enormous hole in my life and endless questions in my head. I couldn’t rest without knowing everything that had happened and had been said after that day. I wanted his family’s details so I could tell them all the beautiful things he’d said about them, how he loved them so much and how his actions had nothing to do with them. I wanted to look them in the eye and tell them I had done all that I could. To ease their pain or ease my guilt? What was wrong with wanting both? I didn’t want to sound so desperate as to ask Maguire those exact questions, and I knew he wouldn’t tell me anyway, but I couldn’t just draw a line under what I had experienced. I wanted, I needed more.
‘Two things. Firstly, you shouldn’t get so involved with any victim. I’ve been in this game a long time and—’
‘Game? I watched a man shoot himself in the head right before my very eyes. This is not a game to me.’ My voice cracked, which I took as a hint to stop.
There was silence. I cringed and covered my face. I’d blown it. I gathered myself and cleared my throat. ‘Hello?’
I waited for a smart response, something cynical and cold, but it didn’t come. Instead his voice was soft, the background wherever he was had gone quiet and I was worried everyone had stopped to listen to me.
‘You know we have people in here to talk to after an event like this,’ he said, gently for once. ‘I told you that night. I gave you a card. Do you still have it?’
‘I don’t need to talk to anyone,’ I said angrily.
‘Sure.’ He dropped the nice-guy act. ‘Look, as I was saying before you interrupted me, there are no funeral details. There was no funeral. I don’t know where you got your information but they’ve been telling you porkies.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Porky pies, lies.’
‘No, what do you mean, there was no funeral?’
He sounded exasperated at having to explain something that was glaringly obvious to him. ‘He didn’t die. Yet, anyway. He’s in hospital. I’ll find out where. I’ll put a call through to them to let them know you’re able to see him. He’s in a coma though, won’t be doing much talking.’
I froze, speechless.
There was a long silence.
‘Is there anything else?’ He was on the move again; I heard a door bang and then he was back in the room with the loud voices.
I struggled to formulate a single thought as I slowly sank into my armchair.
And sometimes when you witness a miracle it makes you believe that anything is possible.
How to Recognise a Miracle and What to Do When You Have
The room was still and quiet, the only sounds the steady beeping of Simon’s heart monitor and the whoosh of the ventilator as it assisted his breathing. Simon was the polar opposite of how I’d last seen him. Now he looked peaceful, the right side of his face and head bandaged, the left side serene and smooth as if nothing had happened. I chose to sit on his left side.
‘I saw him shoot himself,’ I whispered to Angela, the nurse on call. ‘He held a gun up right here,’ I gestured, ‘and pulled the trigger. I saw his – everything – go everywhere … How did he survive?’
Angela smiled, a sad smile, not really a smile at all, just muscles working around her lips. ‘A miracle?’
‘What kind of a miracle is that?’ I continued to whisper, not wanting Simon to hear me. ‘I keep going over it, over and over in my head.’ I’d been reading books about suicide and what I should have said, and they say that if you can get a person threatening suicide to think rationally, if they actually think about the realities of suicide and its aftermath, then they could, they might abort the decision. What they’re looking for is a quick fix to end the emotional pain, not to end their lives, so if you can help them see another way to ease the pain then maybe you could help. ‘I think, considering I had no experience, that I did okay, I think I really got through to him. I think he really responded to me. For a moment, anyway. I mean, he put the gun down. He let me call the guards. I just don’t know what it was that sent him back into that head space.’
Angela frowned as though hearing or seeing something she didn’t like. ‘You know this isn’t your fault, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I know.’ I shrugged it off.
She studied me, thoughtful, and I concentrated on the right wheel of the hospital bed, how it caused a black scuff mark when it was moved each time, lots of scuff marks back and forth, and I tried to count how many times it had been moved. Dozens, at least.
‘You know there are people you can talk to about this kind of thing. It would be a good idea to get your concerns out.’
‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’ I laughed, trying to sound carefree but deep down feeling the anger burning in my chest. I was tired of being analysed, tired of people treating me as though I was someone who needed to be handled. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’ll leave you with him for a while.’ Angela stepped away, her white shoes silent on the floor as if she was floating.
Now that I had come, I didn’t quite know what to do. I reached out for his hand but then stopped myself. If he was aware, perhaps he would not want me to touch him, maybe he blamed me for what had happened. It had been my job to stop him and I hadn’t. Perhaps he had wanted me to change his mind, he had been willing me to say the right words, but I’d failed him. I cleared my throat, looked around to make sure no one was listening and I leaned in closer to his left ear but not so close as to startle him.
‘Hi, Simon,’ I whispered.
