Bet Your Life (9 page)

“He definitely does.” I put my arm around Petra and let her lean against me. One of the best things about moving to Port Sentinel had been taking over the role of Petra’s big sister. I was supposed to know what to do in every situation, and what to wear, and how to apply liquid eyeliner (which I could do—though privately I felt life was far too short for liquid eyeliner). I really liked that she depended on me. I’d made a promise to myself—and to Freya if she was still interested—that I’d never let her down. And that included not backing out of a promise to find out what had happened to Seb Dawson, if that was really what she wanted me to do.

If I was feeling good about myself, it was short-lived. The doors to intensive care opened and Beth bounded out, followed by a tall, heavy-set man in a crumpled checked shirt. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was untidy. He still had the Port Sentinel sheen of wealth, though: a chunky signet ring on his left little finger, and a watch that had about as much metal in it as Hugo’s car.

“Here they are.”

“Girls.” He shook hands with me first, then Petra. “It’s good of you to come.”

“I’m so sorry about Sebastian, Mr. Dawson. How’s he doing?” I asked.

“The same.” He rubbed his eyes. “They say they have to wait to see what happens over the next few hours and days. They can’t tell yet about his brain. Whether it will be affected, I mean.”

Petra’s cold little hand found its way into mine.

“I’m sure he’s getting very good care here,” I said, using my talking-to-parents voice.

“The best. The absolute best.” Mr. Dawson’s eyes welled up. “You’re so good to come,” he said again. “Beth’s told me how much Seb means to you, Jess.”

“She has?” I switched on a smile. “Of course. But he means a lot to so many people.”

“Yes, but I feel you should be allowed to see him. They said it was family only, but I think you would count as family if we were able to ask Seb.”

Sorry,
WHAT?

Beth was pulling frantic faces at me behind her father’s back.

“Oh. I mean, absolutely,” I said, kicking for touch. “I didn’t want to make a big fuss about getting in to see him. It’s all about what’s best for him, isn’t it?”

“Well, I think seeing his girlfriend would count as a good thing. Even if he’s not responding, we don’t know how much he can understand. If you can talk to him, it might really help his recovery.” Mr. Dawson shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Jess. We had no idea Sebastian had a girlfriend at the moment or we’d have made sure you were here yesterday. It must have been horrible for you.”

“Oh, no. Not really. I mean, I was upset, obviously, but I understood.”

Girlfriend
.

I was going to KILL Beth.

“We just didn’t know about you,” Mr. Dawson said again.

“Well, it’s a relatively recent thing. I don’t know if he would even describe me as his girlfriend, officially.”

“He totally would,” Beth chipped in.

“I’m not so sure,” I said, glaring at her.

She ignored me. “He’s always going on about Jess.”

“Not to us.” Mr. Dawson smiled at me. “Don’t let that upset you, though, Jess. He’s not always the best at letting us know what’s going on in his private life. I mean, I suppose that’s not unusual for a teenage boy. I wish he’d confide in me more, but…” He trailed off as his bottom lip began to quiver.

Oh, please don’t cry
. I jumped up. “Do you think there’s any way I could see him?”

“Come with me.” Mr. Dawson put his arm around me and guided me to the double doors. Beth sat down next to Petra with the air of one who has done what she came to do. While Mr. Dawson spoke into the intercom, I glowered at her. She smiled back.

“How could you?” I mouthed, following her dad through the double doors. She shrugged and waved, and the doors locked behind me.

“He’s just down here.” Mr. Dawson’s arm was still around me. “Now, don’t be alarmed when you see him. He looks pretty rough around the edges compared to the way he is normally, but a lot of that is just bruising so he should look more like himself in a few days.”

“OK,” I said faintly. “I understand.”

“We’re just so upset. The idea of someone hitting him and then driving off without even waiting to see if he was all right…” Mr. Dawson shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone could be so callous.”

A nurse stood to one side and I saw the bed, and Seb. His head was bandaged, as were his wrists. I wouldn’t have recognized him now that the bruises had made his face swell. His skin was red and shiny, his eyes almost invisible. Dark stitches tracked across his chin and up to the corner of his mouth. I didn’t have to fake the gasp I gave, because he looked dreadful. He looked as if he was more than half dead. They had left him bare-chested, with sensors attached to his skin, feeding information to the various machines that beeped and hummed around the head of the bed. I could see that the skin on his body was scratched and bruised too. Three long parallel scrapes ran down his chest, and his arms looked as if he’d rolled through brambles.

Mrs. Dawson was sitting nearby. She was reading a fashion magazine with all the emotion of someone waiting to see the dentist. She glanced up. “Jess, you were naughty not to say anything about Seb. All that way with me chatting about everything that came into my head and we could have been talking about how the two of you got together.”

The absolute horror of that thought made me feel faint. “Oh, please, Mrs. Dawson, it’s not a big story. We just got to know each other in school. And then, you know…” Let them think I was super-inarticulate if they liked. That was as far as I was prepared to go. With Seb lying there, unconscious, I felt worse and worse about lying to his parents. I wasn’t going to draft him into a romantic scene that hadn’t happened at all.

“Don’t be afraid, dear. Take his hand.” Mr. Dawson pushed me forward and I sank into the chair closest to Seb.

“I’m not sure … I mean, I don’t know…”

“Talk to him. Tell him you’re here.” Mr. Dawson was leaning on the end of the bed, watching his son for signs of life.

“I’m sorry,” I said desperately. “I just can’t think what to say.”

“We should leave the two of you alone,” Mrs. Dawson said. “You don’t want Seb’s daddy listening in, do you?”

Oh, vomit. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s normal.” Mr. Dawson looked disappointed, though. Seb was as still as a carved effigy on a tomb. “Normal is what we want for Sebastian.”

“Come on.” Mrs. Dawson stood up. “Leave them alone. I want to get a coffee and you need a shave.”

She bustled him away, leaving me feeling like the absolute worst person who ever drew breath. Taking advantage of the Dawsons hadn’t been my idea, but I felt just as guilty about it as Beth should have.

Still, I was there. And unattended. The nurses’ station was close by so I didn’t have total privacy, but I could have a look around for the phone. There was a small locker in the corner but it was empty. Maybe Mrs. Dawson had already taken the phone home with Seb’s other things. Not that he’d had much to take home—no clothes, I remembered.

Mr. Dawson’s jacket hung on the back of my chair. I patted the pockets quickly, finding a fat wallet and some keys and—I allowed myself a little crow of triumph—a phone. I pulled it out and checked the screen.

Not Seb’s phone. Not unless he was in the habit of using a picture of his stepmother as his wallpaper. It didn’t seem likely, knowing what I did about their relationship. I put it back where I’d found it and sat, disconsolate, watching Seb’s chest rise and fall. The three scrapes looked more and more like gouges left by long nails. He had a bruise on his chest—a round one that looked as if someone had punched him.

“What happened to you?” I said softly. “Where did you go? Why doesn’t anyone want to admit the official story is a lie?”

No answer. I hadn’t really expected one.

The Dawsons came back eventually. I got my hand on top of Seb’s in time for Mr. Dawson to see me patting it, and he beamed at me.

“It does me so much good to see the love my son’s inspired.”

I cringed. “Well. He is very special.”

“He is. He really is.” Mr. Dawson looked down at him. “I want you to come back, Jess. Come and see us again when Seb’s mother is here. She’s flying in tonight.”

“Showing her usual sense of urgency,” Mrs. Dawson said.

“It took Séverine a while to arrange things in France. She couldn’t just leave straight away. She has a lot of pets.”

Mrs. Dawson licked her finger and flicked to the next page of her magazine with a snap.

“I should go,” I said, standing up. “Petra’s been waiting for ages.”

“I’ll drive you back.” Mrs. Dawson stood up too.

“We can get the train.”

“It’s no trouble.” She was almost as desperate to leave as I was, I thought.

“You might as well go.” Mr. Dawson put his arms around his wife. “I don’t mind staying on my own.”

“I wish you’d come home with me. Have a proper rest.” For the first time, Mrs. Dawson looked genuinely upset. She might not have cared much about her stepson but it was obvious that she adored her husband, and worried about him.

“I can’t leave him here on his own. When Séverine gets here I’ll have a break. I might check into a hotel.”

“Not the same one as her,” Mrs. Dawson said, her voice tight with tension.

“Whatever.” He sounded exhausted. He slid a hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a phone, then frowned. “That’s not mine. I keep forgetting I’ve got Seb’s.”

He started to put it away but Mrs. Dawson held out her hand. “Give it to me. I’ll take it home.”

“He’ll want it when he wakes up.”

Mrs. Dawson looked down at the still figure in the bed. Her voice was gentle when she replied. “So we should look after it for him. It might get lost, or stolen. Let me take it home and mind it.”

“All right.” He gave it to her and I watched it disappear into Mrs. Dawson’s bag, out of sight and well out of my reach. Beth would have to try to get hold of it. It was the least she could do.
Girlfriend
, indeed …

Mr. Dawson was patting his pockets. “I wonder what I did with mine.”

“Your jacket,” I said without thinking. Then, quickly, “I mean, try your jacket. That’s where I usually keep mine.”

“Good idea.” He came over and lifted his jacket, searching through it until he found the phone.

“Thank you for coming, Jess.”

“No problem whatsoever.” I looked at Seb one last time, in the role of the dutiful girlfriend. He looked so vulnerable, lying there. So damaged. I’d been in two minds about getting involved—reluctant, to say the least, to take on the role of detective again. But it was beyond wrong that he was lying there in a coma and no one was even trying to find the person who’d hurt him.

I left the Dawsons to say goodbye to one another and walked out. I didn’t have to pretend to be upset. Mr. Dawson’s misery made me feel immensely sad. It was another reason to dislike Dan Henderson, I thought. The Dawsons deserved justice.

Outside the double doors, Petra and Beth were giggling. It was the kind of laughter that involves a lot of snorting. I was glad to see it, but I still frowned at Beth.

“You are in a lot of trouble.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Beth,” I said, a warning note in my voice, “don’t even think about elaborating on whatever story you told your parents. When Seb wakes up, he’s going to be very surprised to hear about his girlfriend. Let’s just keep it simple and vague and hope that he’s too confused to work out what you did.”

“Actually, you would make a really lovely girlfriend for him. I’ve always wanted him to have a nice girlfriend,” she said wistfully. “We could go shopping together.”

I tried and failed to hold onto my anger. “Oh, Beth, what are you like?”

She blinked, all innocence behind the glasses. “Just think about it.”

I only had time to shake my head before Mrs. Dawson came out of the intensive-care unit and put an end to the conversation. She shuddered. “Come on, girls. Let’s get out of here.”

On the way home, I chose the lesser of two evils and kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep so I didn’t have to talk about Seb, and our fake relationship. It had the added advantage that I couldn’t see the countless accidents we almost had on the way. I could hear Mrs. Dawson swearing under her breath, though, and it was both entertaining and an education.

I walked into Sandhayes, Petra following, the two of us weak with relief to have survived two journeys in Mrs. Dawson’s car.

“How did it go?” Hugo was running down the stairs, Ella not far behind him. She was blushing. Hugo looked the same as ever. I tried to work out what that meant and came up blank.

“It was fine.”

“Did you get what you wanted?” Ella asked.

“Sort of. I didn’t get Seb’s phone, but I did get a new boyfriend.”

The two of them looked baffled as Petra snorted beside me. I grinned too. It was so unusual to see Hugo look totally nonplussed, I felt it had almost been worth it.

7

“So this is where you work?”

“Now and then.”

Ella peered through the window, her hands cupped around her eyes to try to make out the dim interior. “It looks interesting.”

“It looks like the worst charity shop in the world. And that might actually be true.”

“Oh, come on. The stuff in the window looks great.”

“From what you can see through the filthy glass,” I said, rubbing at a smudge with my finger. “This is the last busy week for tourists before Christmas, so of course the shop is shut. Sylvia decided to go on a Mediterranean cruise and I can’t be trusted to open the shop on my own.”

“You sound really fed up. At least you don’t have to work.”

“Yes, but I like it. And it would give me something to do.”

Ella shivered as the wind picked up. “I’m sorry if I’m not entertaining enough.”

“Not what I meant,” I protested. “It’s not exactly hard work. Just a couple of hours a day, and only weekends during term time. But it gives me something to do with my brain. I like making the shop better. I’m proud of it.”

“So you should be.” She had another look. “How much is that bag?”