Who Are You? (27 page)

There’s a creak of rusty hinges and the slam of metal outside and then she sees Mark passing the window. She goes to the door and opens it. ‘Everything OK?’ he asks.

‘Perfect, thanks.’

‘Did you manage to get a good night’s sleep? Hope you were warm enough. It was bloody cold last night.’

‘Your house is really cosy. I think we’ll be just fine here. Thanks for everything. I …’ Her throat catches, ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t … if Claire hadn’t been so kind. Where are you staying?’

‘I’ve got a mate down the road who’s away at the moment.’ Mark smiles. ‘It’s a bit like musical houses.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Sure, if I’m not disturbing you.’

‘You can show me how the machine works. I notice that you haven’t got much in the way of kitchen equipment, but you’ve got a state-of-the-art coffee machine. Got your priorities straight.’

‘Yeah. And a corkscrew, and a freezer for the vodka and ice. There’s a woman, Denise Long, who comes in to clean every so often. She had a good go through yesterday, so if you wanted her to come in for you, I’m sure she would like the money.’

‘Maybe. Though I might have so much time on my hands I can do it myself. There seems to be a lot to get sorted, like school for Ben. Any young kids in the village?’

‘Yeah. A few. I’ll introduce you. I’ll be around for a few weeks so anything you want just shout.’

‘Thanks. You’re really kind.’

‘Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but my sister … Claire … she went through hell so I kind of understand how frightening it is, and how difficult. And your husband, he doesn’t know where you are?’

‘No. Definitely not. Nobody knows. Not even friends. You and Claire are the only people. If he found us … oh, sorry, it’s not the sort of conversation we should be having on first meeting. Otherwise you’ll end up wondering what kind of nutcase you’ve got living here. I promise I’m quite normal. More normal now I’ve got out. Though I expect my husband will do his best to persuade everyone otherwise.’

Mark hands her a cup of coffee. ‘Sugar?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Wi-fi working OK?’

‘Yes.’ She laughs. ‘My lifeline, as you can imagine.’

‘You’ve found my office. Feel free to use it. It’s a good signal in there. These walls are so thick that it doesn’t work so well downstairs.’

‘You travel?’

‘Yeah. When I can. But I’m around for a while.’

‘I just … kind of thought … that you’d be away, which is why the house would be free.’

‘I was going, and then it was cancelled. I often have to go at short notice …’ Mark looks as though he’s feeling a bit uncomfortable.

‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy.’

‘You’re not. It’s just the weird kind of life I lead.’

‘No time for a girlfriend then? Oh there I go again, being nosy. Sorry.’

‘I can’t afford ties at the moment. I was married, but it didn’t work out.’

‘Ah.’ Juliet doesn’t feel she should ask any more personal questions.

‘Listen, I’d better get going. But you’ve got my mobile number, so whatever you need just call. I’m around.’

‘Thanks. I mean, really. Thanks.’

After she’s closed the door behind him, Juliet can’t help wondering why someone would move out of their house in order to shack up with a mate down the road for such a minimal amount of rent. But maybe, as he said, he likes the house to be occupied and he could hardly find a tenant for three months at short notice. She washes up the coffee cups and starts to reorganize the kitchen. If Mark doesn’t like it, he can always rearrange it back when she’s gone. Whenever that might be. She has no plans for the future. Up until yesterday her future started and ended right here. She’s got a strange mixture of feelings. On the one hand there’s the amazing sense of achievement, of having actually done it, and of being somewhere safe and free from fear; yet on the other there’s a scary sense of detachment. She doesn’t know anyone. She has no idea what she will do from hour to hour, let alone what she will do tomorrow. But she’s trained to set up in new places. Being a stranger in a new place is almost her modus operandi. And like on the internet, she can reinvent herself once again and be whoever she wants to be. ‘Ben?’ she calls up the stairs. ‘Come on, sweetie. Let’s make pizza.’

‘Mummy, I’m bored. When can we go home? I want to play with Cordelia.’

‘There’s no such thing as bored. Have you finished sorting out your toys?’

‘That’s boring.’

‘Honestly, Ben, you’re beginning to get on my nerves.’

‘You always say that. I want Daddy.’

‘Ben! You can’t have Daddy. Daddy wasn’t nice to us and so we’ve had to come here, OK? Aw, Ben. That’s a long face. Come on. Do you want to help me make that pizza?’

She takes out a pizza base from the fridge and a jar of passata, things that she brought with them in a cool box, and sets them on the kitchen surface. There’s a high stool which is rather fragile- looking, but perfect for Ben to watch over what she’s doing, so she picks him up and sits him on it. She turns away and there’s the sound of wood snapping, Ben squeals and then there is the sickening thud of his head hitting the hard flagstone floor. There’s a breath-long moment of silence and then a high-pitched scream.

‘Oh God! Ben …’

‘Ow, Mummy …’ he screams. ‘You pushed me …’

‘I didn’t push you. The stool broke.’ His screech is high- pitched, searing into her eardrums. ‘Ben … Ben … it’s OK. Stop screaming.’

Ben is trembling, so she scoops him up in her arms and takes him through to the sitting room. She sits down and cradles him on her lap. His tears wet her face and she can feel the sliminess of his snot on her cheek. She wipes it with her sleeve. ‘Come on, Ben. It’s OK. It’s just a bump.’ His screams have reduced to a whining squeak, like a puppy shut the wrong side of a door. ‘Shhh …’ she breathes into his hair. ‘It’s OK …’ she repeats. She feels the back of his head and finds a large bump. She looks at her fingers and the tips are covered in blood. She doesn’t want Ben to see, because she knows it will frighten him. She scrunches her fingers into a ball and wipes her fingers across the heel of her hand. Perhaps she should take him to casualty. ‘Ben, are you feeling dizzy? Or sick?’

‘My head hurts.’

‘I know. Look at me, darling. Can you see me properly?’

‘You’re a bit blurry.’

She holds up one hand in front of his face. ‘Can you see my fingers?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘How many, Ben?’

‘Two.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Three. Stop it Mummy, my head hurts.’

She slides him off her lap and onto the sofa, placing a cushion behind his neck to keep the blood off the covers. Then she fetches a towel from the downstairs loo and puts it to the back of his head.

‘Ben. We’re going to casualty, just to make sure that your head’s all right, OK?’

‘I don’t want to go.’

‘It’s for the best, darling. Just to make sure.’

‘I hate hospitals. The smell makes me sick.’

‘I know, sweetheart. And you’ve really only just come out of one. I’m sorry, but we do have to go. Perhaps it will have a nice smell, and some nice toys to play with.’

Ben sucks his thumb. He’s stopped crying now that he’s got something else to be upset about. She collects her phone, handbag, car keys, iPad, a book for Ben and their coats, and then locks the door behind them. This is not the way she had planned to spend their first day of freedom. She’s just clicked the key fob to unlock the car when she sees Mark across the road.

‘OK?’ he calls.

‘No. Ben’s hurt his head. Where’s the nearest casualty?’

‘Abergavenny.’

‘How do I get there?’

Mark crosses the road. ‘Turn around, back down this road for a mile, then turn left, another couple of miles and there’s a T- junction, turn right …’

Juliet’s eyes are glazing over. His directions are a jumble. Maybe she can just set the satnav. She gets her phone out. ‘What’s the hospital called?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, Christ. I need to type in the name, get the postcode. Shit.’ Ben’s whimpering but his face is white as a sheet.

‘Look, would it help if I came with you? I’m not doing anything and it’ll be much quicker if I show you.’

‘You’re an angel. Really? You don’t mind?’

‘No. Be glad to help. Shall I drive, then you can hold Ben?’

‘Please.’

All the way to the hospital Ben’s head just keeps on bleeding. Juliet knows about heads. It’s not really the bleeding that concerns her, but the fact that he’s so listless. When they arrive Mark drops them at the entrance. She finds a wheelchair and puts Ben into it. The familiar smell hits her as she walks along the wax-squeaky corridor. It’s painted spotless cream, with a dado rail made of purple rubber sliding along the walls; a bumper barrier for gurney beds. Juliet is reassured to see how modern and clean it appears to be. They push through the final pair of swing doors into A & E, and Juliet parks Ben by the row of chairs while she goes to the receptionist. She’s sitting behind a window, presumably to protect her from drunks and lunatics. Juliet explains that they’re new to the area, that no, they haven’t registered with a doctor yet. She gives an address for their doctor in London, but misses off a vital piece of the address, because she doesn’t want Alex to be able to track them through this. When she sees the doctor she will explain the situation, but there’s no point in spilling her personal tragedy to the receptionist. It’s all just a formality, anyway. The main thing is to get Ben seen by someone as soon as possible.

There’s a digital sign in the waiting room: approximate wait one hour and ten minutes. At least Ben seems to be more alert.

‘Hate hospitals.’

‘I know, darling, it seems no time since your appendix. But your poor head needs checking and I don’t think we’ll be very long. Does it hurt?’

‘A bit. I’m hungry.’

‘That’s a good sign. Maybe we’ll make that pizza when we get home.’

He kicks his foot against the seat and wriggles.

‘Do we have to stay, Mummy? Can’t we go home? Can we telephone Daddy, now?’

‘Later. Shall we look at a book together? Or shall we find a game on the iPad?’

‘Please.’

Mark appears. ‘Sorry, took ages to find a space. What’s happening?’

‘Just waiting to see someone.’

‘I’ll go and find us a cup of coffee. Something for Ben?’

‘Better not, just in case.’

‘But I’m hungry, Mummy.’

‘I know darling, but you’ve got to wait and see the doctor first.’

Ben is getting sleepy and he’s climbed onto Juliet’s lap. She checks to make sure that he isn’t leaving blood on her cashmere sweater. Then a young woman with a small girl in a buggy comes and sits in the chairs near them. Juliet smiles at her, and she smiles back. The child’s nose is snotty, a band of cream slime glistening like Evo-Stik between her nose and upper lip. Why doesn’t her mother wipe it, Juliet wonders. Her mother has taken a phone out of her handbag and is busy texting while the girl stares expressionlessly at Ben. She has long dark eyelashes and purple bruises below her eyes.

‘Ben Miller,’ a nurse calls out. Juliet gently pushes Ben off her knee and stands up. She takes his hand and walks over to her.

‘That’s us,’ she says.

‘Hello. Follow me.’

They walk through another pair of swing doors behind which is a row of curtained cubicles. They are ushered into one. It looks the same as any other; narrow, high bed against the wall, oxygen tank, bin for sharps, roll of paper, selection of instruments. Juliet sits down on one of the small metal chairs and puts Ben on her lap once more. They go through the form-filling: name, date of birth, allergies, address, name of doctor.

‘We haven’t registered yet,’ Juliet explains. ‘We only moved here yesterday, from London. Ben fell off a stool and hit his head. I’m worried he might be concussed.’

‘Let’s have a look at you Ben …’

‘Isn’t the doctor coming?’

‘I’m going to have a little look first.’

She holds up three fingers and asks Ben how many.

‘Three,’ he answers.

She uses her torch to check his pupils, and then asks him to follow the light.

‘OK,’ she says. ‘Now tell me, Ben, are you feeling sick?’ Ben shakes his head.

‘He said he was feeling sick five minutes ago,’ Juliet says. Ben speaks. ‘But I wasn’t sick, Mummy.’

‘Yes, darling, but you were
feeling
sick.’

‘Are you feeling sleepy, Ben?’ the nurse asks. Ben nods. ‘And hungry.’

‘He just went all floppy afterwards. That’s why I was so worried. And he was bleeding, look here …’

‘Heads do bleed a lot. But it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s anything frightening going on. His pupil response is fine, I can’t see that there’s anything to worry about. ‘So, Ben. Bangs on the head are a bit scary, but I think you’re going to be fine. Just keep an eye on him, and if he gets any sleepier, or is sick, then bring him back, or see your doctor.’

‘We haven’t registered with a doctor yet. Shouldn’t you keep him under observation, at least?’ Juliet is petrified that if there’s anything seriously wrong with Ben, when the grand showdown with Alex finally happens, this little episode might seriously count against her. Ben
has
to be looked after properly. She has to be
seen
to be looking after him properly.

‘I think he’d be much better off at home than in some noisy ward.’

Juliet takes a big breath. ‘I’d like him to see a doctor.’

‘It really isn’t necessary. Believe me, I know what a serious head injury looks like, and Ben is going to be fine. Please don’t worry.’

Juliet squares her shoulders: ‘I would like to see a doctor.’ It is now the nurse’s turn to sigh. ‘They’re all tied up.’

Juliet stands up, and grabs Ben’s hand. ‘Honestly …’ she says as she pushes open the curtain. ‘Bye, Ben,’ the nurse says.

‘Bye-bye,’ Ben answers.

Mark is in the waiting room fiddling with his phone. He looks up, and Juliet is touched by the look of concern. He holds out a cup of coffee. ‘Bit cold by now, sorry.’

‘Thanks. It’ll be fine.’

‘How are you, Ben?’

‘My head hurts a bit. I hate hospitals. Mummy likes hospitals,’ Ben says.