Summer at Tiffany's (5 page)

Henry glanced down at her with ashen skin and bloodshot eyes, and she swallowed at the sight of him so cut up. She'd never seen him like this before. Henry was always the fixer, the calm eye at the centre of every storm, the beating heart of every party. He knew everyone and everything (the temperature of the sun? The velocity of a speeding bullet shot in a vacuum? The speed of sound when measured at sea level? Cassie had flung all these questions at him and he'd known the answers off the top of his head), and his happy-go-lucky smile and energy for life saw him make friends, contacts and alliances wherever he went.

She
was the weak link in the relationship – the flapper, the panicker, the worrier, the hider, the one who couldn't change a wheel, mix a Martini or cope in a crisis. But he needed her now. Archie wasn't just a brother-in-law; he wasn't just a friend. He was the guy who had hopped into his beaten-up Golf and driven 800 miles when seventeen-year-old Henry got lost on the wilds of Rannoch Moor and had only enough phone battery to make one ten-second call; he was the guy who not only dug the grave for Henry's beloved childhood Labrador, Rover, but bought and planted a rosebush above it too; he was the guy who still held the world record for Pac-Man (but was pitiful at
FIFA
), who laughed like a goose, had never knowingly worn matching socks and had married his wife on account of her rich lasagne and even richer eyes. He was Henry's blood, his brother. There was simply no question of him dying.

The doors opened and Henry was off again, arms swinging like a soldier's as he marched directly to the CCU, from which he'd come – at the nurse's insistence – only six hours before. Cassie and Velvet caught him up just as a nurse in blue trousers and tunic buzzed open the door. She must have been on the night shift, as she obviously recognized Henry, letting them all in with a nod and a bright smile.

Inside the unit, everything felt different – the air was solid and thick like a slow-moving cloud, the light blue-tinted, and behind drawn floral curtains twenty different cardiac monitors beeped out of time with one another. Cassie closed her eyes, trying to brace herself for the sight of Archie on one of the beds, clad in a gown with tubes coming out of him; but all she could conjure was him this time yesterday, puckering up for a kiss from Velvet as Suzy adjusted his braces so that they didn't rub his nipples when he ran – something Henry had been teasing him about ever since they'd bled on last year's run and stained his shirt.

Velvet dropped her favourite toy – a ragamuffin pig – on the floor and Cassie bent down to scoop him up.

‘How's he been?' she heard Henry ask the nurse in a low voice.

‘Quieter.'

Quieter? It was hardly the answer they'd been hoping for, and as she stood again, Cassie saw a muscle clench in the ball of Henry's jaw. Henry crossed the room in four strides, but Cassie saw how he paused before he stepped round the curtain; she clocked the slight rise in his shoulders as he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the horrific sight of his best mate flattened and barely alive on the bed.

She turned back to Velvet and handed the child her beloved toy. ‘Here you go, darling.'

‘Can I help you?'

She turned to find the nurse now looking at her, although her smile was brisk and considerably less warm than the one she'd given to Henry.

‘Uh, yes . . . I'm here to see Archie too.'

‘Archie . . . ?'

How many Archies did they have in here? ‘Archie McLintlock.'

‘Are you family?'

‘Well, sort of . . .' Cassie hesitated. ‘I mean, not strictly, not in a blood sense. But in a legal sense – well, one day, anyway.'

The nurse stared back at her, baffled and cool.

‘He's married to my fiancé's sister,' she said by way of explanation, jerking her head in the direction of where Henry had disappeared. ‘He's my fiancé.'

‘Who is?'

Cassie blinked. Was this woman being deliberately obtuse? Was she the nurse who'd got the date wrong yesterday and was out for revenge on Suzy's nearest and dearest?

‘Henry. The man you were just talking to.'

‘I'm afraid only family is allowed in the CCU. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

‘But . . .' Cassie protested as the nurse shepherded her towards the door again, ‘I just explained.'

‘Your status does not qualify as family. I'm afraid you cannot stay in here.'

‘But surely I can at least say hello?'

It was precisely the wrong thing to have said.

‘This is the Cardiac Care Unit. Mr McLintlock is in no state to “say hello”.'

Cassie stared at her, a hot blush of indignation washing over her otherwise peaches complexion. ‘This child here is his daughter,' she said, planting her feet firmly and hoisting Velvet higher onto her hip.

‘Children are not allowed on the ward.'

‘I understand that, but perhaps her mother would appreciate a few moments with her child, after what has undoubtedly been the roughest twenty-four hours of her life?'

The nurse, who was standing by the door, hand poised over the entrance buzzer, looked back at her and Cassie tried to arrange her expression into something less combative. This was about Suzy and Arch and Velvet, not her having a battle with the nurse who was furtively flirting with her fiancé.

The nurse relented. ‘Bay three. But only for a moment. If Mrs McLintlock wants to spend time with her daughter, she will have to do it off the ward. I can't have any of the other patients being disturbed.'

‘Of course,' Cassie nodded, before adding magnanimously, ‘Thank you.'

She walked slowly across the room, already oblivious to the nurse's eyes on her back, trying to brace herself for the image she already knew would be waiting for her behind the brown floral curtain. She peered round cautiously; she didn't want to risk frightening Velvet and needed to see how bad things looked first.

Suzy was asleep on a small camp bed that had been set up against the wall, with only a thin blanket over her, although she didn't need it – it was so warm in here. And Archie . . . Archie looked like a dystopian warrior, his pale body covered in tubes and wires so that he looked more machine than man.

She recoiled. It was every bit as brutal and mechanical-looking as she'd feared – her own father had died from a heart attack six years earlier, and although he had been in Hong Kong and she in Scotland at the time, this was the very image that had haunted her dreams. She stepped away from the curtain, shaking her head and trying to smile as Velvet frowned.

‘Kiss-Kiss,' the child squawked, reacting to her unfamiliar expression.

Cassie clasped her head and kissed her firm, chubby cheek again at the sound of the pet name her god-daughter had bestowed upon her. Velvet was too young to be able to say Cassie yet, and besides, Cassie never, ever stopped kissing her.

‘Velvet?' The sound made them look up, as Suzy – wide-eyed but still shrouded in sleep – suddenly appeared round the curtain with a gasp of joy to see her daughter. ‘Oh, Velvy,' Suzy whispered, taking her child from Cassie's arms and covering her face in kisses. ‘Mummy's missed you so much.'

‘Mum-my. Dad-dy.'

‘He's sleeping, my sweet thing. But you can see him very soon, I promise. Did you have fun with Auntie Kiss-Kiss?' Suzy looked across at Cassie and squeezed her arm hard. ‘Thank you,' she mouthed.

‘I didn't know whether you wanted her to see Arch or not,' Cassie said in a quiet voice.

‘No. No. He looks . . . He looks . . .' Suzy bit her lip as huge, swollen tears raced down her cheeks.

Cassie threw her arms around her, around both mother and daughter, as Suzy's shoulders began to heave. ‘Come on. Why don't we go downstairs for a coffee? It'll do you good to have a break from this place, and you can play with Velvet more easily. We've not had breakfast yet, anyway, so she's probably starving.'

‘But—'

‘No buts. Henry's here and we'll only be a short while. I promise you'll feel so much better for having a break.'

Suzy nodded, frankly too exhausted to argue further. Her skin was almost bone-white, and even her famously chocolatey dark brown eyes had lost their richness. Cassie peered round the curtain – taking care not to look at Archie this time – but Henry had overheard and nodded in reply, without either one of them opening their mouths. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, staring down at his closest friend and feeling – Cassie knew – helpless. And if there was one thing he wasn't, it was that. He could cope with anything but that.

Cassie ordered briskly – and too much – at the Starbucks counter as Suzy and Velvet bagged the leather sofas in the far corner, the two of them engrossed in a clapping game. She set down the tray of lattes, foamy milk for Velvet, croissants, pain au chocolat, pain au raisin, two muffins (double-chocolate and a ‘breakfast' blueberry one), fruit salad and a muesli-yoghurt pot.

Suzy arched her eyebrows.

‘You need to keep your strength up,' Cassie said weakly, before Suzy could get a word out.

‘Clearly.' Suzy reached forward and handed the fruit salad to Velvet, who instantly started sucking on a slice of mango and within seconds set off a bright yellow river of juice running down her chin.

Cassie handed over a napkin, before grabbing the double-chocolate muffin and peeling back the case, slicing it in half and handing it over to Suzy on a plate. Suzy was famous for her sweet tooth, but she just looked down at it like it was made of chipboard.

‘Suze, you have to eat,' Cassie scolded, bringing her chair closer.

‘I know. And I will.' She set the plate back down on the table. ‘I just need to . . .' She inhaled deeply. ‘Take a minute. Everything happened so quickly yesterday – the train pulling away as Arch fell, being trapped until the next stop . . . It was like being in one of those dreams where you can't run, can't throw a punch . . . you know?' Her head dropped down, her legs shaking.

Cassie squeezed her knee, remembering it all too clearly: Suzy's screams, the way she'd pounded at the windows so hard Cassie had thought they would shatter, how Henry had had to hold her back from pulling the emergency stop as she wrestled with him, reaching for the red handle.

‘I keep thinking I'm dreaming. Last night, when I was lying in that bed and all I could hear were these
machines
, keeping everyone alive, keeping Arch alive . . . ! I mean, how is it even possible that this is happening? Yesterday I had to kick him out of bed for snoring like a train, and now he's in here.'

‘You're in shock yourself, Suze.'

Suzy's eyes lifted to hers and a long moment passed between them. ‘What will I do if he doesn't . . . ?' She couldn't articulate the thought, as though to give it voice were to give it life, as though the words would be comprehensible to Velvet even if she weren't involved in a suck-to-the-death on an orange segment. ‘No one else would put up with me the way he does, as you're always telling me,' she muttered with a wry, hollow laugh.

‘Well, it's true. You're a nightmare – far too bossy and always right. Which is why Arch
is
going to survive this.' Cassie smiled kindly. ‘There's no way he'll leave you and Velvet. There's not a man on this planet who has got more to fight for than him. You two are his world.'

Tears began to fall from Suzy's eyes again, her lips drawn thin as she struggled for self-control. ‘God, the irony. Just when you think things can't get any worse, they go and do.' She shook her head. ‘I thought the past few months had been so hard on us – Archie's barely been around, and I've been a snappy cow, knowing I should have been doing more than I was but not wanting to burst my bubble with Veevs. I thought
that
was our hard-luck story, you know? A piffling little bonus was our karmic retribution for . . . whatever. But what does any of it matter now he's lying in a bed up there on a ventilator? Who gives a stuffed cow about some job? He always hated it anyway. Said the blokes on his desk were losers who—'

Cassie interrupted her with another squeeze of her knee. ‘You will get past this, Suze. Archie isn't going to die. He wouldn't bloody dare, not till you give him the OK at a hundred and six, once his arthritis means he's stopped being able to open bottles of cava for you.'

Suzy sniffed. ‘You think?'

‘I know. But I also know that it's going to be a while before he's back on his feet, so you're going to be spending a lot of time around here for the foreseeable. What can I do to pick up the slack? Didn't you say your last bride's getting married next Saturday?'

Suzy nodded. ‘Texted me at eleven thirty last night wanting to know if the scented candle wax had been poured into the garden urns yet because she'd changed her mind on the patchouli.'

Cassie grimaced. ‘What did you do?'

‘I didn't reply. I didn't trust myself not to tell her where to go. Who gives a fig about—'

‘She doesn't know what you're going through. It's not her fault. Listen, I'll speak to Marie, OK? She can take the reins, and anything she can't deal with, she can come to me and I'll deal with it, yes?'

‘Are you sure?' Suzy asked, without protest for once, as she handed over the phone.

‘You need to put your time and energy into helping Arch get better. Nothing else matters for the moment.' Cassie had become well versed in the dramas of Suzy's business after she'd worked for her during her first summer in London while the divorce was going through. She knew the contacts, protocols and drills for dealing with stressed brides and their mothers, and Suzy passed as many catering jobs over to Eat 'n' Mess as she could, so they often still worked together. ‘And what about Velvet? Do you want me to carry on staying at yours with her till Arch is discharged?'