waiting room and call Julia. Where is Julia? Did the hospital just not know to call Julia? There is no response; her phone rings and rings before going to voicemail. I leave a message. “Julia, this is Cat. It’s very important that you call me. Please. As soon as you get this. It’s about the girls.”
I try texting.
No response.
I have to try to reach Ellie. However furious she may be at having to speak to me, she has to know. I call Abigail, who says she will get hold of Ellie’s cell for me, and rings me back two minutes later with her number.
I phone, my blood running cold as the phone switches to the machine and I listen to Ellie’s voice. I don’t leave a message, knowing she will never call back, knowing she probably wouldn’t even listen if she knew it was me.
I try again ten minutes later, and again ten minutes after that. And on my fourth time, Ellie picks up, and I know, before she even says hello, that she is out somewhere drinking, and I suddenly realize that however perfect her image, however much she relays a cool, imperious, impervious persona, there are cracks, and weaknesses, and vulnerabilities, and maybe going to a bar and having a few drinks is her way to ease her pain.
God knows if that is the case, I understand it.
I am not judging. I feel compassion. As terrifying as I have found her, this is a woman who has discovered her husband is not who she thought, who has lost the life that was so important to her, who was humiliated in public. Drinking isn’t going to solve anything, but I understand why she might think it will.
But of all the nights to choose to leave the island, to be in the bar, to possibly be drinking, could it not have been any night other than this?
“Ellie, it’s Cat. I’m really sorry to be phoning you, but Trudy has been in an accident. I’m with her at the hospital. She’s going to be okay, but you need to get back as soon as you can.”
“What? I can’t hear you. Who is this?” I can hear the slurring in her voice. Perfect Ellie, not so perfect after all, and instead of feeling smug, I just feel sad.
“Ellie!” Now I am shouting. “Take the phone outside.”
“Okay, okay. Hang on.” I hear her shout to people, then the quiet as she walks out the door. “Who’s this?”
“This is Cat.”
“What the fuck do you want?” The hostility in her voice, in her real feelings coming out when drunk, is almost enough to send me reeling, but I keep going, willing myself to ignore it.
“The girls were in an accident. They borrowed a scooter and got hit by a car. They’re going to be okay, but you need to get back on the island as soon as possible. I’m at the hospital with them.”
There is a silence, and I know she is trying to digest it, know what a shock this is.
“What girls?” she says eventually, slurring.
“Our daughters. They were together. At Julia’s house. Trudy. Trudy has had an operation on her eye.”
And now she starts to shriek. “What? What? Oh my fucking God! My baby!” She starts to wail, and there is absolutely no point in continuing talking to her because I can hear the alcohol in her voice. Her wailing is getting louder, so I click off the phone, praying not only that she gets here, but that she is sober by the time that she does.
I go back in to see Trudy, and as I stroke her good cheek, she opens her eyes and stares at me, not quite registering who I am.
“It’s Annie’s mother,” I say. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital. They did some surgery on your eye, but you’re going to be fine.”
“Where’s my mom?” she croaks, her one unbandaged eye darting round the room.
“She’s making her way back,” I say. “Remember she was off island tonight? I just spoke to her, and she’s coming back. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll look after you until she gets here.” Trudy nods and closes her eyes, and I stay until she falls asleep again, when I go back to see Annie.
Sam goes home to get me a toothbrush. The hospital sets up a cot in the room for me, and I go out to the corridor, still feeling dazed, grateful the girls are basically okay when it could have been so