Our eyes lock as I begin to panic. He sees my discomfort and looks away again. I root through my bag. ‘We need to call the police so you can go over your statement with them,’ I tell him. ‘Are you okay with that?’
When he nods I dial the number I was given last night, and once the female constable picks up I relay our conversation. ‘Can I talk to Danny in your office at three?’ she asks, and after a short conference between us all, the meeting is settled.
‘I’ll leave my office unlocked,’ I tell him, ‘so you can wait here.’
‘I’ll come back after sport.’ He stands up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Turner,’ he says as he leaves. ‘I hope I’m wrong.’
‘Me too, Danny,’ I tell him.
Once he is gone, I wonder whether I should find Georgia right away. I check the timetable on my pin board – she’s in Geography, room 406, it’s not far away. I stand up and grab my bag, but as I move to the door I see the expression on her face this morning as she spoke to me. ‘Stop interfering, Mum.’ She won’t thank me for hauling her out of class in front of everybody. And for what? What will I say to her? I don’t want to terrify her when this might all be speculation, and yet I need to keep a close eye on her. I check the timetable again. She will be in sport after lunch, and then she has a history class. By then the police will have talked to Danny. If they are concerned I will wait outside her classroom door, and if necessary I’ll beg her to come home with me.
I go across to the window. Even though it is chilly outside I open it, needing to breathe in the fresh air. I focus on the smooth waters of the distant lake, and try to calm myself. Without meaning to, I begin to pick at the peeling white paint on the windowsill, until a tiny spike of wood pierces the sensitive skin beneath my fingernail and leaves a dull ache that won’t go away.
I take big, deep lungfuls of fresh country air, but it does nothing to settle me. For a while I had imagined that the danger to Georgia had passed as that unknown car disappeared into the night. Now I am not so sure.
11
CALLUM
Sophia’s room is a forest of electronic activity, wires hanging down from beeping and hissing equipment, a few slender ones branching off to take root beneath her blanched skin.
Peering through the small window in the door, Callum hardly recognises his niece. Without make-up or styled hair, Sophia looks like the child that, technically, she still is for just a few more months. Her skull is encased in bandages, and her leg is in plaster, and raised on pillows. At least her slender face shows no trace of the grey pallor that Callum dreads seeing in the casualties on the mountains. Still, she looks so vulnerable that he finds he has to choke down the emotion that threatens to overwhelm him.
Liam is seated at the side of the bed, his hands clasped together, watching over his eldest daughter, while his youngest, Maddie, sits against the wall with her legs folded under her, playing on her phone. It is not the first time Liam and Callum have been together like this – they had spent six long weeks in a small room eerily similar to this one, just two floors away from where he stood now, praying for a miracle as their father’s organs failed one by one. This scene is bringing back unbearable memories. No one has noticed him yet – Helene is dozing in an armchair in the corner – and Callum thinks about turning around. He rallies himself and pushes the door open. They all glance up, and Helene jumps awake. When she sees it’s her brother-in-law the disappointment on her face makes him quick to apologise.
‘I didn’t meant to disturb you, Helene.’
She waves away his concern. ‘I can’t really sleep, just trying to rest so I can be strong for Sophia when she wakes up.’ She gives him a defiant smile as she struggles up from her seat and comes to embrace him. ‘She’s still sedated. Our sleeping beauty, hey. She’s keeping us all waiting, no matter how much we shower her with kisses.’ She looks across to the bed. ‘Your uncle is here, Sophia,’ she calls out to the prone figure. There’s no response and Helene looks back at Callum and shrugs. Then she turns to Liam.
‘Take Callum to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I’ll call you if she starts to come round. You need to keep your strength up.’
Liam gets to his feet, moving across to put a hand against Helene’s cheek. ‘I’ll bring something back for you,’ he says, and kisses her forehead as she leans against him briefly with her eyes closed, as though he is transmitting strength to her.
Callum tries to imagine his own family in the same position. He sees himself walking straight past Anya, not even stopping to kiss her. He sees his wife turning away from him without a thought and sitting down next to their daughter. When had those barriers gone up? When had they stopped considering each other’s feelings?