I’m so sorry.’
I sigh deeply. ‘Don’t apologise, you were being kind and thoughtful. It’s just the way I am. Have you paid a deposit?’ I ask.
‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter.’
Now I feel even worse. ‘Let’s sleep on it and talk in the morning, eh?’ I need time to get my head around everything that’s happened tonight. Right now, I’m feeling bombarded and unable to make a decision about anything.
‘Yes okay. I’m a bit rubbish, aren’t I?’ he says, his brow furrowed, the earlier exhilaration and hope now crushed.
‘No, you’re not, you’re not rubbish at all,’ I say, but deep down I’m beginning to think I don’t know who Alex even is.
Later, in bed, we hold each other and Alex talks about all the things we can do in Devon.
‘Fish and chips, romantic walks along blustery beaches, the cottage, warm and welcoming. Oh, Hannah, all this trouble with Helen, and me doing that stupid thing tonight, I feel like we’ve become disconnected. A long weekend, just the two of us – it’s just what we need right now, please say yes.’
And in my almost sleep, I can see us hand in hand, skimming stones, wrapped up warm, a bottle of Merlot drunk by a roaring fire. And I know I’m beaten.
‘Sounds perfect,’ I whisper, before falling into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Five
This morning, everything felt back to normal with Alex. He was loving and funny and bright. I didn’t want to ruin the mood, but I was keen to know if he still planned to contact the police about what happened last night.
‘Of course,’ he said, a coffee in one hand, toast in the other. ‘I’m going to go in there today, see my friend at the station, tell him everything, and see what we can do.’
‘You don’t mean try to get out of it?’ I’m still uneasy about what happened last night.
‘No, but there might be a way I can come clean, come to some private arrangement with the guy – compensation or something?’
‘Okay, fair enough.’
‘After all, I can’t be unemployed now, I have a future wife and kids to think about.’ He beams. ‘Not to mention keeping Kevin in dog food!’
I don’t answer him. He’s talking about a wife, but I don’t recall a marriage proposal – or me saying yes. Alex gets so carried away with his plans, and he’s so meticulous he’s basically made it impossible for me not to go on the trip to Devon. On the other hand, what harm can a couple of days away do? Perhaps spending time together, with no distractions, will give me a chance to decide what I really want. If I start to feel okay with him again, then perhaps we can work things out? If not, then I have to find my way out of this.
I call the hospital to ask about Chloe. They’ve moved her from ICU so I should be able to see her, so I leave the house and head straight there. So much has happened since yesterday I feel like it’s been weeks since I saw her, and a little part of me is desperately hoping to arrive and find her sitting up in bed. I take her a box of brownies and a fashion magazine, but the nurse on the desk tells me there’s been no change. As her social worker, I’m granted access, and the nurse shows me into her room.
‘Has her mum been in?’ I ask the nurse, knowing that for someone in a coma, friends and family are encouraged to sit with them, talk to them.
‘Yeah, she’s only just gone home to change her clothes, she’s been here since yesterday,’ the nurse says.
Looks like Carol has finally started to step up, which is something, even if it is too little too late.
I’m shocked when I get into the room to see Chloe covered in tubes and monitors. A machine is breathing for her and her skin is white, like porcelain. Only the monitor above her bed gives any sign of life, and I know the chances are slim for Chloe right now.
Being in here reminds me of the first time I came into a room like this, years before, when I was much younger. My mum lay in a tangle of tubes just like this. I touched her white, papery flesh, the dark skin around the eyes – the track marks – before I said goodbye. I can’t bear to say goodbye to Chloe though – I can’t let her