How to Find Love in a Book Shop (12 page)

‘It’s your fucking fault,’ said Hugh. ‘You were following us. I saw you pull out right behind me. You were harassing us.’

‘Don’t talk crap.’

‘I’m going to make sure they have you for dangerous driving.’

‘They’ll think you’re having a laugh. My car doesn’t do over sixty.’ Dillon pointed a thumb over to his ancient car in the nearby gate. ‘And they’ll see the tyre tracks.’

Hugh looked at the road in the moonlight. Dillon was right. There was a pair of black lines imprinted on the road where he’d lost it on the corner. They’d be able to work out his speed.

‘Fuck’s sake. I’ll lose my licence. I’ll lose my job. I won’t be able to support her.’ He grabbed Dillon’s shoulder. ‘You do realise that’s all they want me for, the Basildons? My money? They think it’s going to save Peasebrook. They need me.’

Dillon looked at him. What a bloody state. But now he thought about it, it explained a lot. Hugh was loaded. It would take the pressure off if Alice married him. A source of ready cash.

That was how these families worked, wasn’t it? It wasn’t so far from an arranged marriage. He felt ill at the thought. Was Alice having to pretend to love Hugh, in order to save Peasebrook?

‘If she dies,’ Dillon told Hugh, ‘I’ll kill you.’

‘She’s not going to die,’ said Hugh, but he looked as pale as the moonlight as lights appeared around the bend accompanied by wailing sirens.

Next to him, Alice stirred and moaned. She reached out a hand. Dillon took it.

‘It’s all right,’ said Dillon, squeezing her hand as hard as he could. ‘It’s all right, Alice. The ambulance is here. You’re going to be all right.’

In no time, there were people swarming everywhere, shouting instructions, the elaborate choreography of an emergency procedure taking shape.

Dillon and Hugh were taken to one side, removed from the scene of the accident.

‘I lost it on the bend,’ Hugh was telling a policeman. ‘I’m not used to this car, and there was some black ice. I was taking Alice home to Peasebrook. We’re due to get married in three months …’

He was trying his best to look the modicum of respectability.

‘Come and sit in the car with me a moment, sir,’ said the copper to Hugh.

‘No problem,’ said Hugh, but he looked daggers at Dillon.

Dillon didn’t know what to think as he watched Hugh follow the policeman. He didn’t want trouble for Alice, but the man was an idiot. He’d got what was coming to him. Dillon hoped they locked him up and threw away the key.

It seemed to take forever for the ambulance men to get Alice out of the car. The minutes seemed like hours. Eventually they lifted her gently onto a stretcher. She looked so small, so still, as they carried her over to the ambulance.

‘Who’s coming with her? Is anyone coming with her?’ One of the paramedics asked.

‘Yeah. I’ll come.’ He didn’t want Alice turning up to the hospital on her own. He climbed into the back.

‘Are you her husband? Boyfriend?’

‘No – I work for the family. Is she going to be all right?’

No one answered. Someone was taking her blood pressure. Someone else was wiping away the blood.

Then suddenly Hugh was banging on the door. Someone opened it to let him in.

‘Is she all right? I’m coming with her.’

‘There’s only room for one.’

Hugh looked at Dillon. ‘Out.’

Dillon was astonished. It looked as if Hugh was in the clear. How on earth could he be? Dillon had seen him with his mates. They were all roaring drunk. What had he done? Had he bribed the policeman? Or was he genuinely not over the limit? Dillon couldn’t understand it.

‘Can you blokes sort yourself out?’ asked a paramedic. ‘We need to get going.’

Hugh’s eyes met his. There was a message in them to say his card was marked. Dillon didn’t care. Hugh couldn’t touch him. All he cared about was Alice.

Without another word, Dillon climbed out of the ambulance.

Another policeman walked past.

‘Somebody get on to Peasebrook Manor,’ Dillon heard him say into a radio. ‘Best for them to meet us at the hospital.’

Dillon felt sick at the thought of Sarah being given the news. She would be distraught. He couldn’t imagine there was anything worse than being told your child had been in a car accident. He wished he could be with her, to reassure and comfort her, but it wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t his place. Even though Dillon spent hours with her every day, it was Ralph who would and should be with her. He didn’t even feel entitled to go to the hospital. This was a family matter. He was staff. It was his duty to step away, and wait until he was needed.

The ambulance doors slammed shut and the driver turned on the siren. Dillon wondered if Hugh would hold Alice’s hand and tell her it was all going to be all right. He thought probably not. All Hugh would be worried about was saving his own arse. How was he going to explain the accident to the Basildons? He looked up into the night sky. He couldn’t believe the stars were there, twinkling happily. How was it possible, when Alice lay there so still and small?

The ambulance drove off and Dillon was left there, watching Hugh’s car being hoisted onto the tow truck. There was the sound of hydraulics and clanking chains, the mechanics shouting instructions to each other. A remaining policeman removed the accident sign.

And suddenly, everyone was gone and it was deathly quiet. It was as if the accident had never happened, except for the scar on the old oak tree. Dillon stared at it and wondered how fast Hugh had been going. He felt sick thinking about it. He felt totally helpless. What could he do? Pray, he supposed, but he’d never been a praying man. As far as he was concerned, nature took its course, man interfered from time to time, and what happened, happened. No greater force had any influence.

He went back to his car, still parked in the gateway. He drove slowly home, seeing ghosts in the shadows as the light turned from granite to gun-smoke. If he phoned the hospital, they wouldn’t give him any information: he wasn’t family. Was Alice a cadaver, under a white sheet, eyes shut? Was she on an operating table, waiting for a surgeon to perform his magic? Was she sitting up in bed, pale and shaken but laughing, drinking tea and chatting to the nurses? How was he going to find out?

At Peasebrook Manor, when Sarah Basildon heard the sound of a bell drill through the house, she sat up in bed and thought, Oh God, no. Please. Not so soon after Julius. Not someone else. I can’t take it.

Nine

Sarah sat upright, her hands pressed between her knees, staring at an awful painting of a wood in autumn hung on the pale green wall of the hospital waiting room. Waiting, she thought. Waiting for news. A diagnosis. A prognosis. Suddenly nothing else in life held any import or urgency. Eating, sleeping, drinking – all were irrelevant. They’d been here since two o’clock in the morning. Alice was having a brain scan, or an X-ray, or was in theatre, or something – she couldn’t remember which, or in what order. The information was a jumble and Alice was the staff priority, not giving out information. And they couldn’t give information until they had answers. Sarah kept telling herself everyone was doing their best, but it was agony.

Ralph came in with a mug of tea in each hand and held one out to her. He’d gone off to find the friendly Scottish nurse with the bleached blonde hair and the smiling eyes, to see if she had any idea what was going on.

Ralph, for all the blundering blustering hopelessness he usually used to dissemble, had come into his own. His mantle of fecklessness slipped away, and out came a man of integrity and grit. It must have been his army training. He’d only had a couple of years in the Blues and Royals, but it must have been lying dormant in him. Maybe that was what had been lacking in his life over the past years? A proper crisis.

Sarah stared down at her tea.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Drink up, darling. We’re going to need all our strength.’ He fished in his pocket and brought out a brace of digestives. ‘Not much of a breakfast, but they’ll see you through. An army marches on its stomach.’

Sarah took the mug and one of the biscuits. A tentative sip told her the tea was too hot, so she dunked the biscuit in.

‘The consultant should be here in a few minutes,’ Ralph added, and their eyes met. It was the moment they had been longing for and dreading, the consultant’s verdict. Ralph put a hand on her shoulder. ‘We’ll get through this, darling. She’s a fighter, Alice. That spirit of hers …’

He trailed off and his voice caught on his words. Sarah put up her hand and squeezed his arm. He needed reassurance too. He looked down at her, surprised and grateful, and she realised with a start of guilt that they barely had any physical contact any more. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but a gradual withdrawal. Sarah wondered for a moment if he had noticed, or, indeed, if he minded. She felt a rush of regret, tinged with guilt.

The door opened and they both stood to attention, Sarah sliding her arm into Ralph’s. Now she had touched him, she felt the need to be close. They both stood there, clutching their mugs of tea, staring at the young doctor in the maroon jersey.

He smiled. ‘Mr and Mrs Basildon?’

They nodded, mute with dread. They couldn’t read into his smile. Was it just a greeting, or a barometer? If it was bad news, would he bother smiling?

‘Well, she’s in a bit of a pickle, I’m afraid.’ He grimaced. ‘But the good news is we’ve done a brain scan and there doesn’t seem to be any great injury. Obviously we need to keep her monitored. There’s never any guarantee. Bleeds can occur unexpectedly after trauma. But so far, so good.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ Sarah leaned against Ralph, limp with relief.

‘It’s not all good news. Her left leg is in very bad shape. There are multiple fractures, and we’re going to have to operate and pin it all back together. It’s a bit of a mess. It’s going to be a while before she can walk. There’ll be a lot of rehab work. A lot of physio.’

‘We want the best people,’ said Sarah. ‘We can pay, if necessary.’ God knows how, but they’d find the money. Sell a painting. She’d sell her soul if necessary.

‘You don’t need to worry about that just yet. She’s in the best hands at the moment. Although there is more.’ He cleared his throat and Sarah looked at him. Somehow she knew this was going to be the bad bit. ‘Her face is badly lacerated. There’s a very nasty cut on her left cheek. She may well have to have some cosmetic surgery.’

‘Oh God,’ said Sarah. ‘She’s getting married in November.’

‘We’ll do our very best for her.’ He paused. ‘Look, there’s a lot to take in, and we don’t know yet which order we are going to be doing things. But in some ways she’s been very lucky—’

‘Lucky?’ Sarah looked appalled. Beautiful Alice, who was the least vain person Sarah knew.

‘We should tell Hugh,’ said Ralph. Hugh had gone out for fresh air. He said he was feeling odd after the crash. But he’d probably gone for a cigarette.

Sarah stiffened slightly at the mention of Hugh’s name. ‘It’s all his bloody fault.’

‘Darling. It was an accident. Black ice …’

‘Yes.’ Sarah didn’t sound convinced.

‘It must be awful. Imagine how he feels.’

‘He drives too fast. I know he does.’

More than once Sarah had had to brake in her Polo, meeting Hugh coming the other way in the narrow lanes leading to Peasebrook.

‘Boys will be boys.’

‘How can you
say
that?’

‘Come on. We should be celebrating the fact that she’s not got a brain injury—’

‘As soon as she comes back from X-ray, you’ll be able to see her,’ said the consultant.

‘She’s going to be as right as rain. I know it,’ said Ralph. ‘She’s made of stern stuff, my daughter.’ He managed a smile. ‘Like her mother.’

Sarah looked up from her seat in the waiting room when Hugh walked back in, smelling of freshly smoked cigarette and Wrigley’s. He gave a tentative smile. He was, quite rightly, wary of Sarah.

‘The nurse just told me. She’s going to be all right—’

Sarah cut him off.

‘You were driving too fast,’ she said flatly.

‘Sarah!’ Ralph stood up.

Hugh looked down at the floor, then sighed.

‘I know I was,’ he said, quietly. ‘And I’ll never forgive myself. But there’d been a bit of an incident in the pub. I was trying to get Alice home as quickly as I could.’

‘What do you mean – incident?’

There were fisticuffs in the White Horse sometimes. Not often, but it was inevitable sometimes after a few too many beers.

‘It was your gardener chap. He was being a bit … aggressive.’

‘Dillon?’ Sarah was incredulous.

‘Yes,’ said Hugh. ‘I should have taken him outside, but I didn’t want trouble.’

‘What do you mean – aggressive? That doesn’t sound like him.’

‘Everyone’s different after a few.’ Hugh put on a pained expression. ‘I think he’s got a bit of a thing about Alice. It was pretty embarrassing. He was following us. In his car. I put my foot down to get away from him. It was just instinct.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. Dillon wouldn’t put Alice in danger.’

‘Well, I can assure you it happened.’

‘Following you and then what, exactly? What was he going to do then?’

Sarah was staring at Hugh, her eyes hard. He shrugged.

‘I don’t know. Beat me up? I think he’d had a few too many. Maybe I should have reported him. Stopped him from driving. In retrospect, that would have been the responsible thing to do—’

‘I don’t think any of this is true.’

Ralph stepped forward. ‘Darling, I don’t think this is the time.’

Hugh looked distressed. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to protect Alice. And yes, I put my foot down on the gas—’

‘So it
was
your fault.’

‘Sarah – this isn’t an inquisition.’

‘I want to get to the bottom of what happened. And I’m not convinced Dillon had anything to do with it. It sounds completely out of character.’

Ralph and Hugh shared a complicit look.

‘Oh, Sarah,’ said Ralph. ‘You always see the best in everyone.’

‘Not everyone.’ She looked at Hugh. ‘I don’t always see the best in everyone.’

Hugh attempted a disarming smile. ‘Look, we’re all a bit upset. We’re bound to be. The great thing is Alice is going to be all right. Let’s not lose sight of that.’

‘All right?’ said Sarah. ‘She’s going to be scarred for life.’

‘Sarah.’ Ralph’s tone was sharp. ‘This isn’t helping.’

The door swung open and the three of them looked towards the nurse. She was smiling.

‘If you want to come and see Alice, just for five minutes …’

‘Just me,’ said Sarah. ‘I want to see her. Three will be too much for her.’

Neither Hugh nor Ralph dared to remonstrate.

Alice was a tiny bundle in a bed in the middle of intensive care, a mass of bandages and wires and bruised flesh. There was barely a bit of her Sarah recognised. Even her voice was just a croak.

Sarah didn’t want to say much. She didn’t want drama. She didn’t really do drama. The confrontation in the waiting room was as high as her voice had been raised for years. She was the epitome of calm, brought up to be serene and gracious.

She held Alice’s little paw, the one without the cannula, and stroked it gently.

‘Poor sweetheart,’ she whispered.

‘How bad is it?’ asked Alice. ‘I can’t move anything and my head hurts. I can’t
think
.’

‘You’ve bashed your poor leg up a bit,’ said Sarah. ‘They’ll need to pin it back together.’

She swallowed. She couldn’t look at Alice’s face. She couldn’t say anything about her face. Not yet.

‘We’ll have to cancel, won’t we? The wedding?’ Alice’s voice was a quaver.

Sarah looked at the floor. Something inside her said yes. That would be the answer to everything. Cancel the wedding. She had a bad feeling about it. About Hugh. But she didn’t want to upset Alice by agreeing, because it would imply that things were terribly serious. Which indeed they may well be, but Alice had been through enough already. She needed soothing.

‘We don’t have to worry about that at the moment. It’s a long way off.’

She suddenly felt drained, and incredibly emotional. She didn’t want to cry in front of Alice.

‘What happened, darling?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. There were loads of us. In the pub …’

‘Was Dillon there?’

‘Dillon?’ Alice was trying hard to recollect the events. ‘Maybe.’

‘Did he and Hugh have a row?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Only Hugh seems to think they did.’

Alice shook her head. ‘I can remember the Jäger train …’

Sarah wasn’t going to push it. She didn’t want Alice distressed.

‘Would you like to see Daddy?’

‘Yes, please. I’m sorry, Mummy.’

‘Sorry? What on earth are you sorry for?’

She could see Alice struggling with a thought, a memory.

‘I don’t know,’ answered Alice, and her eyes filled up with tears.

It was eight o’clock before Sarah and Ralph got back to Peasebrook Manor from the hospital. The nurse had insisted they go in the end; had assured them repeatedly that Alice would be comfortable, and that they would end up being a nuisance if they stayed any longer.

Hugh had gone to stay with a friend. He had sensed, quite rightly, that he was best out of Sarah’s line of fire for the time being.

Sarah sank down into her chair at the kitchen table. Yesterday morning seemed a lifetime away, when she had sat here preparing for Julius’s memorial. You never knew what lay ahead.

‘Shall I make scramblers?’ asked Ralph. She shook her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of food. ‘You’ve got to eat.’

‘Not now. Honestly. I’m beyond it.’

‘Tea.’ He grabbed the kettle and put it on the Aga. ‘That hospital tea was definitely made from scrapings off the factory floor.’

How could he be so jovial?

She stared at the dresser on the wall opposite. She could see Alice’s Noddy egg cup. It had been hers when she was small: a Noddy cup with a little blue felt hat with a bell on, to keep the egg warm. She thought about all the boiled eggs she’d made her daughter.

She could feel it coming. The grief. It was gathering speed, and was going to smash into her any moment. And this time, she didn’t have to brace herself to withstand it. This time, she could let it engulf her. She’d been through every emotion today. Shock. Fear. Anger. Fury. Worry. Relief. Then more worry, doubt, fear, anxiety … There was only so much you could take.

And being at the hospital had reminded her. Of the day she had said goodbye to Julius at the cottage hospital. It was two weeks before he had finally slipped away. She’d been in to see him; brought him the new Ian Rankin, which she was going to read to him because his eyes kept going blurry and he couldn’t concentrate.

She hadn’t been prepared for him telling her he didn’t want her to come in to see him again.

‘I feel OK today. But I know it’s just a temporary respite. Tomorrow I might be out of it. Or gone altogether. I want us to quit while we are ahead. I don’t want you here when I don’t know you are there. I don’t want you to watch me die. I want to say goodbye to you while I am still me. A pretty ropey version of me.’ He managed a self-deprecating smile. He was thin; his skin had an awful pallor; his hair was wispy. ‘But me.’

‘You can’t ask me to do that,’ she had whispered, appalled. She stroked his cheek. She loved every bone in his poor failing body.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to argue about it. It’s for the best.’

Their fingers had been entwined while they spoke. And she knew him well enough to know that he had thought this through, that what he was saying was right. Emilia was on her way home to be with her father. Sarah couldn’t be seen with him any more.

She held his hands in hers and kissed them. She kissed his forehead. She leant her cheek on his and held it there for as long as she could bear. She looked deep into his eyes, those eyes she had looked into so many times and seen herself.

She couldn’t see herself any more. He had shut her out. It was time for her to go, and he was preparing himself.

‘You’re the love of my life,’ she told him.

‘I’ll save you a place. Wherever I’m going,’ he said back. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’

He gave a smile, and then he shut his eyes. It was his signal for her to go. She recognised that he couldn’t take any more. If she loved him, she had to leave him.

She drove home, staring at the road ahead. She felt nothing. She had shut down. It was the only way to cope. There was nothing in her that was able to deal with the horror of that final goodbye. She had wanted to climb into his bed and hold him forever. To die with him, if that were possible. Drift off into that final never-ending sleep with him in her arms.