‘Hannah, where’s Hannah? Where’s my daughter?’ I become more and more agitated with every word and every second that passes. I try to move, but I can’t. The paramedic tells me to stay calm. Calm! How the hell can I stay calm when I don’t know what has happened to my daughter? I scream her name as I’m swamped by dark thoughts and images of her lying motionless on the gravel driveway. And then the blackness comes and takes me away.
Chapter 24
I think the medical staff must have given me a sedative. When I wake, it’s dark outside and the room is lit by a small amber glow of a night light. There is the stillness of night in the air. The atmosphere you only get in the dead of the night, when most people are asleep. This time there are no footsteps making their way up and down the corridor, no doors swishing open, no muted bump as the doors close against the architrave and no indistinct conversations.
I sense I’m not alone, though, and turn my head to the right. Luke is sitting in the high-backed hospital chair. He has a blanket pulled up around his shoulders, tucked under his chin, and his head has lolled forwards onto his chest.
Such conflicting emotions rush over me. I want to reach out and have him hold me, but at the same time I want to slap his stubbly face and ask him why he doesn’t believe me.
Luke stirs and his eyes open. He sits upright when our gazes meet. ‘Clare, hiya, Babe.’ He frees his arm from the constraints of the blanket and reaches out to me, squeezing my hand. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Try to go back to sleep. You need to rest.’
‘Hannah. How is Hannah?’ I don’t care about myself and what my body needs. My mind needs to know if my daughter is okay.
‘She’s fine. She’s on the paediatric ward,’ he says.
‘The ward?’ He definitely said ward and not ICU.
‘She has a few cuts and bruises and she banged her head. They’re just keeping her in overnight for observation,’ he continues. ‘She’s absolutely fine besides that.’
‘Nothing broken? No life-threatening injuries?’
‘No. None of those. As I say, a few bumps and bruises.’
‘Oh, thank God for that.’ A sob of relief fills my throat. I swallow, but can’t contain it. I let it out and allow myself the indulgence of tears. ‘I thought I’d killed her. No one would tell me anything. And then the police wanting to speak to me …’ The snot and tears have merged into one and Luke takes a wad of tissues from the battered box on the bedside cabinet, pushing some into my hand and wiping my face with the others.
‘Routine questions,’ he says. And then he looks at me as if he’s deciding whether to tell me something. I recognise that look.
‘What?’
‘Alice isn’t so good,’ he says, he dips his gaze for a moment. ‘She’s in ICU. Punctured lung. Several broken bones and a serious head injury. Your mum is with her.’
‘Shit.’ I’m ashamed by my first thought, that I might not be able to question her about what happened in America, but then I remind myself of what I found out and the shame lifts.
‘She’s not Alice,’ I say. Luke frowns and looks confused. ‘That’s not my sister in ICU.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That woman who’s been pretending to be Alice is actually Alice’s friend, Martha Munroe.’
‘Honestly, Clare, you must have taken a bigger bang to the head than I thought.’
‘I know it sounds bizarre, but I’m nearly one hundred per cent certain.’ He gives me an old-fashioned look that clearly says he doubts it very much. ‘Where’s my bag?’
Luke shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Still in the car, I expect.’
‘Bring it. I need my bag. When you go home later, bring the bag back. It’s important. Really important. I can show you what I’ve found. Then you’ll have to believe me.’
‘Listen, Leonard said to tell you not to answer any police questions,’ says Luke, clearly trying to change the subject. ‘I think he wants to speak to you first. What happened? Why were you driving like a lunatic? Didn’t you see them?’
I let out an incredulous huff. ‘Of course I didn’t see them. Not at first. What a stupid question.’
‘Why so fast?’
‘I was scared.’
‘Of?’
‘Martha. Alice. Whatever the fuck you want to call her. I was scared what she would do.’
The door opening brings a halt to our conversation and the nurse comes in. ‘I thought I heard voices,’ she says. ‘How are you?’ She comes over and unhooks the blood-pressure sleeve from somewhere behind the head of my bed. ‘I’ll do some checks while I’m here.’
‘I’ll go down to Hannah,’ says Luke, getting up. ‘I don’t want her to wake up and find herself all alone. I stayed with her until she went to sleep last night.’
‘Okay.’ I can’t begrudge him that. Hannah’s needs are greater than mine. ‘Tell her I love her,’ I say. ‘Maybe they’ll let me come and see her.’
‘Not the state you’re in,’ says Luke, harshly, and then his face softens. ‘We’ll see what the doctors say once they’ve done their rounds in the morning. They’re talking about letting her go home, if everything’s okay. I’m not sure about you, though.’ He looks up at the nurse.
‘It’s up to the doctor,’ she says. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll come and see you once I know what’s going on,’ says Luke. He pauses and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he changes his mind and squeezes my hand instead. ‘See you later.’
‘Don’t forget my bag,’ I call after him. He acknowledges with a raise of his hand as he walks out the door. I can’t help wondering if he’s going to call in to see Martha on the way. Does she mean something to him? Do I mean less? I don’t know, but there’s a void between us, one that neither of us knows how to fill. I’m not sure what’s gone missing, but something has.
I spend the next few hours drifting in and out of sleep until the breakfast tray is brought round. I’m not particularly hungry and poke at the cornflakes in the bowl and eat half a banana. I’m more grateful for the cup of tea that follows. I put the TV on and wonder when Luke will come to see me. I’m anxious for news on Hannah and really want to see her, although I’m also aware that seeing me all bandaged up in a hospital bed could be frightening for her. If only I had my phone with me I could at least then make some calls. Pippa would be first on my list, just to check how Chloe is, and secondly, to see if she’ll believe me when I say it wasn’t me who has vandalised her car.
No doubt the police will be back at some time today to question me about both Pippa’s car and the accident. I don’t know how I’m going to account for the speed at which I went through the gates to the house. If only I’d slowed down, none of this would have happened.
I think back to events and wonder what Leonard was doing there at that time in the morning. And what were Martha and Hannah doing down by the gates anyway? Then I remember the text messages warning me off. Jesus, did Martha take Hannah down there on purpose to carry out the threat? But then, why would she jump out in front of the car herself and, from what I can remember, she was trying to get Hannah out of the way? I then remember the phone call with Martha. It’s not me you need to be frightened of.