rubbed her eyes as she thought. ‘You know, Lauren, the one thing I admire in all this is that you haven’t even mentioned the possibility of giving in to his blackmail.’
‘I’d never do that,’ Lauren said.
‘But our options are limited,’ Meryl said. ‘You don’t officially exist so you can hardly report the threat to the police, and if you make an official complaint here on campus, it’ll just boil down to your word against Large’s. The only sensible thing to do is speak to Ewart or Zara and suggest that Meatball be moved into safe-keeping here on campus. No red-shirt will dare to harm the chairwoman’s dog.’
‘But Joshua—’ Lauren interrupted.
‘He’s a three-year-old boy,’ Meryl shrugged. ‘He’ll get over it.’
‘Bloody Large,’ Lauren spluttered.
‘Right now Zara’s stressed out with all that’s going on around Gabrielle,’ Meryl said. ‘But I’ll speak to Ewart straight away and suggest that we move Meatball on to campus before next week’s hearing so that Mr Large can’t get hold of him.’
Neither Kyle nor Lauren were completely satisfied, but at least Lauren would be able to give her evidence and Meatball would be safe.
12. REVIVAL
Dr Shah was a slender Indian with a bald head. He stepped out of Gabrielle’s room and pulled down his surgical mask as Chloe, Zara and Michael crowded around him.
‘How’s it going?’ Michael asked. ‘Can we still go in to see her?’
The doctor nodded. ‘Fortunately she’s young and in excellent health. She’s responding well. We’ve reduced the level of sedation and she’s steadily regaining consciousness.’
‘Can she speak?’ Chloe asked.
‘A little,’ the doctor nodded. ‘She has eighty stitches in her stomach and thirty in her back. Those are very large wounds and if they become infected the complications will be serious.’
‘Is her condition still life-threatening?’ Michael asked.
‘The surgeon worked for more than five hours, repairing damage to her stomach and cauterising areas where the bleeding was most severe. Because Gabrielle is young and seems to have escaped serious organ damage, I’d say that her situation is now stable rather than critical. She’s maintaining blood pressure without transfusions, which indicates that the operation has stemmed most of the internal bleeding. Having said that, her injuries are grave and it’s too early to rule out complications.’
Dr Shah pointed Chloe, Michael and Zara towards a dressing room where a nurse made them wash their hands with alcohol gel and put on gowns and disposable gloves.
‘I know that you need to ask her about the attack,’ the nurse said, ‘but she’s just come around and you absolutely mustn’t excite her. If something upsets her, leave her be.’
‘We understand,’ Zara nodded, as they walked back into the corridor. The nurse entered a security code to open Gabrielle’s room.
Michael led the way and recoiled at what he saw. With stab wounds front and back and a badly swollen face, Gabrielle lay awkwardly on her side. Blood had seeped into the dressings and an oxygen tube ran under her nose. Electrodes stuck to her skin monitored blood pressure and heart rate.
Gabrielle found it hard to express emotion with pillows piled around her head, but she managed to smile and brought her arm forward for Michael to hold her hand.
‘We can’t touch,’ Michael said, shaking his head as a tear streaked down behind his mask. ‘But the doc says you’re doing great.’
Gabrielle rocked her head. ‘Doesn’t feel great,’ she said. Her voice was weak and slightly nasal because of the oxygen tube. ‘What’s the time?’
‘Just after three.’
Chloe spoke next. ‘Gabrielle, it’s me. I don’t know if you feel like talking, or even how much you can remember, but I’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘Are you recording?’
‘Yes,’ Chloe said. ‘If that’s OK?’
‘Who else?’ Gabrielle asked, as she struggled to recognise masked people with blurry eyes.
‘It’s me, Zara.’
‘The boys who killed Owen, we’re …’ Gabrielle’s throat was raw and she gagged every time she attempted more than half a sentence.
‘Take your time,’ Zara said.
‘We know you were chased from the football pitches,’ Michael said. ‘The police got witness statements from people in the street. They’ve identified some of the Runts and made arrests in connection with the murder of Owen Campbell-Moore.’
‘Listen,’ Gabrielle croaked impatiently, sensing that she might pass out at any second. ‘I was in the shed with Owen’s body. They didn’t know I was there.’
Gab seemed helpless as she paused to catch her breath. Michael badly wanted to hug her.
‘All talking, the Runts – and one goes: Sasha’s boy said … there’d be a lot more than f … than four kilos.’
‘What