‘It’s okay. You were here to see Tish.’
‘How’s Jess doing?’
Fran felt torn between the truth and protecting his feelings. She chose the truth. ‘There’s no change – which isn’t a good sign.’ Jake looked uncomfortable, but she ploughed on. ‘Jake. I want you to tell me what happened? We can’t get a clear answer from the police, and obviously neither Tish nor Jess is able to tell us anything – at the moment.’ That was harsh, but she had to know – something, anything, that might help to explain why her daughter was lying in a bed, a few metres away, being monitored for signs of brain activity, instead at college living a normal, happy life.
Jake grimaced. ‘I would. If I could.’
‘Meaning?’ Fran’s slender hope thinned.
‘The crash. I really can’t…’ He tried to shift position in his wheelchair, but found that he couldn’t, because of his leg. ‘Mrs Beaumont, I’m sorry, but I really haven’t got much to tell you. I remember being at the party; we were all having a laugh – Jess and Tish as much as everyone else. It was a good party. I remember us leaving, then stopping at McDonald’s, and after that we got back into the car. But that’s it. The next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital. I don’t remember anything else. I’m sorry. I really am.’
Fran stared at him. ‘You must remember more than that. Anything at all.’
Jake looked genuinely distraught. ‘It was just a normal night out. We were all having a good time.’
‘So you’ve said. Were you drinking?’
‘Well, yes, I was. I don’t know what the others did or didn’t drink.’
‘But Harry…was he drinking?’
‘Look. Like I said to the police, I don’t know. We’re weren’t together at the party much. People were spread out in different rooms. I’m really sorry. I’m not covering anything up, I promise. I’m really not. I understand that it must be awful for you and Jess’s dad and Sal, but I don’t know what Harry drank at the party, and I honestly don’t know what caused the crash. I don’t know whose fault it was. What I mean is…whether it was anyone’s fault.’ His eyes kept flicking past her. He was looking at the ward doors, hoping that a porter would appear and take him away. But he was out of luck.
The next few minutes were painful for both of them, but no matter what Fran asked about that night, Jake was of little use. All he kept saying was that it had been such a good night, until it had all gone wrong – as if that made any difference.
Chapter 23
THE FOLLOWING day Adam, the ward manager, came to tell Fran and Marcus that there was policewoman waiting for them in the family suite. It was nice description for a nasty, faded box of a room down the corridor from the ICA unit, with a stained tea tray and two sofas that were just too short to sleep on. God only knew how many desperate conversations had been held inside it.
The police officer said nothing until they were seated. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I’m sorry to have to take you away from your daughter at this difficult time. I’ll keep this as brief as possible.’
Marcus and Fran simply sat and looked at her, waiting for information. They hadn’t the energy or the inclination for social niceties any more.
‘As you know, investigations are proceeding and a considerable number of interviews have been conducted about the events of the night of the accident.’
Fran wondered what they had got out of Harry, but wasn’t naïve enough to ask directly. Both she and Marcus were by now very aware of their irrelevance to the process. Their own repeated attempts to get any response from Harry or Dom had been consistently blocked.
The policewoman opened her notebook – such an old fashioned, low-tech approach. ‘I just have a few questions for you, if that’s okay?’
More questions, but no answers. Fran wanted to stand up and walk out, but the thought they might learn something about the results of the investigation stopped her.
‘Could Jess drive?’
It wasn’t what they were expecting. Can! a voice in Fran’s head screamed.
‘Well, yes she can, but she hasn’t passed her test yet,’ Marcus said. ‘She’s been learning for about six months.’
The officer blinked, point taken, but not fully grasped. ‘Whose car did she drive? I mean, before the accident.’
Marcus answered. ‘Mainly her instructor’s, but I’ve taken her out a few times.’
‘Might she have driven anyone else’s car ever?’
They both shook their heads, but they sensed there was something behind the question, because she kept pushing.
‘But among her friends, a number of them had access to cars, didn’t they?’
‘Only Harry and Jake have passed their tests, I think.’ Marcus looked at Fran, seeking confirmation. ‘But Jake doesn’t have a car. Well, not that we’re aware of.’
The police officer wrote something down. Fran watched, thinking how neat her handwriting was, how laborious. ‘Why do you need to know whether Jess can drive?’ she asked.
‘Oh, nothing, really. It’s just routine. Establishing the facts.’
‘Relating to what?’
She smiled. ‘It’s clarification really. Discounting alternative scenarios.’ They waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Her smile faded as she geared up for her next question. ‘Now, I wonder if you could help me by telling us a little bit more about Jess’s friendship group – specifically the people she was with on the night of the crash?’
Marcus cleared his throat as if searching for a start point, but Fran cut in. ‘Why are you asking this again? We’ve been through all this. You know who they are, and that they’ve been friends for years. You know who was in the car. You know who was driving. I can’t see what else you need to know.’
The officer answered her. ‘It helps to build up an accurate picture of the events leading up to the incident. I appreciate that it can seem tedious, but such information can be very useful, in terms of understanding the behaviour and motivations of everyone involved. For example,’ she glanced at her notes, ‘Mohir Akhtar. Was he a close friend?’
‘Why are you asking about Mo? You said he wasn’t even in the car.’ Fran could feel a small, tight kernel of anger forming inside her. This was all irrelevant. What they should be doing was establishing why the car crashed. ‘He’s just a friend. They’re at college together. In the same biology class. They got on.’ As she said it, she remembered the confusion on the night. The mistake that had landed Shazia and Nihal in that bloody awful holding room. The fact that Mo had been missing then had suddenly reappeared.
‘Was Mohir friends with everyone in the group?’ the officer asked.
‘Yes. Why is any of this relevant? Was Mo involved in the crash somehow, after all?’
The officer shook her head ever so slightly, dismissing the question, and moved on, working down her list. ‘We’re trying to work out the dynamic on the night. Were you aware of the actual relationships in the group? Boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, past or present? Any jealousies? Anything that could cause any tension?’