My eyes filled again as the guilt suddenly overwhelmed me – the whole bloody mess of the hideous situation. I started to walk faster, cursing repeatedly under my breath. I reached the car, and climbed in. Would Simon call me and at least let me know what had been said? Surely, he would?
I was going to have to talk to Ben. That much was clear. But tell him everything? I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do that to him, or Beth. I should have just removed her from school while I had the chance. Of course Ben would have been confused, but I could have made it work somehow. It would have been better than this.
My hands shaking wildly, I started the car engine, looking behind me as I reversed, and was immediately reminded of the lady librarian on her bike. In comparison with what had just happened back in Simon’s office, her bizarre intervention didn’t seem so extraordinary now.
And why hadn’t I heeded it? Why hadn’t I just turned around and taken Beth home, after all? This whole thing could have been avoided. I wouldn’t have gone into Simon’s office, Louise wouldn’t have caught me crying… but then it wasn’t a message… Not from God – not from anyone.
Only at that, I suddenly burst into proper sobs, and had to slam to a stop because I actually couldn’t see. I put my head in my hands as I rested my elbows on the steering wheel and tried to force the image of Mum’s face from my mind, but it was too late… the stupid radio DJ with his bloody suicide pop trivia. There was a honk of a horn behind me, and I snatched up my head to see another car waiting for my space, indicator on. ‘You going?’ the man mouthed, then looked taken aback at the wild expression on my face.
I didn’t even bother to nod. Wiping my eyes furiously with the back of my hand, the gears grated as I tried to find first, and eventually managing it, I jerked out of the space and onto the road, clutching the cold steering wheel tightly. I took a few deep, calming breaths and visualised myself closing the lid on a box, turning a key in the lock, placing the key in my pocket, shutting the box away in a cupboard, leaving the room, walking out of the house… feeling marginally better I allowed my thoughts to return to Simon. Please God he wouldn’t tell Louise everything. Please. Let him have the strength to not offload his guilt and fear onto his capable wife.
* * *
Mercifully, I didn’t have long to wait to find out what had been said. It was ten twenty-five – not even two hours later – when the phone began to ring, and one of the other girls on reception of the advertising company I worked for leant round her pink iMac, her hand over the receiver and said: ‘It’s for you, Jess. Personal apparently.’
‘Thanks.’ I braced myself, and picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
It was the school – but it wasn’t Simon. I realised it was actually the headmistress I was speaking to, on what I thought was a badly crackling line, but in fact it was her struggling to speak.
I was to please go to the hospital, immediately.
There had been an accident.
Then she said Beth’s name and she started to cry. My heart began to thump as the delicate white wings of the librarian angel began to beat faster too – unfurling, growing dark and muscular, blocking out the light and turning the air cold.
God loves your little girl.
No! NO! I’d told Beth! This wasn’t right – this couldn’t be happening.
And yet it already had.
Beth had died, just twenty minutes earlier, at five minutes past ten in the morning… lying on the icy playground floor, staring up at the bright, blue sky.
Chapter Two
I wasn’t told that immediately, of course. The headmistress only said that Beth had fallen – from a climbing frame during morning play – and had been taken by ambulance to our local hospital. A member of staff had accompanied Beth, and would meet me there.
‘But Beth’s OK?’ I asked, trying not to panic because obviously it was serious if they’d called an ambulance. ‘Has she broken anything?’
‘I don’t know yet, Mrs Davies.’
‘It sounds as if you’re crying,’ I said. ‘Beth is alright, isn’t she?’
There was a pause. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Davies. I certainly don’t want to alarm you. I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all, but I really don’t have any more information at this stage.’
I hung up and got to my feet. ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said to the other girls. ‘My little girl has had an accident. Can you tell HR?’
‘Of course,’ one of them said immediately. ‘Hope she’s OK.’
Hope she’s OK.
The words echoed around me as, grabbing my bag, I hastened across the reception area, my heels clicking on the cold marble floor. I swung the heavy glass door open and rushed across to the staff car park, fumbling in my bag for the new mobile telephone that Ben had bought me only three days before. I struggled to open the address book, but thankfully he was the only contact I had in it, so selecting the right number was easy.
‘Hello!’ Ben said, picking up after five rings. ‘You’re using it! I told you it would—’
‘Ben, stop.’ I said. ‘Beth’s been in some kind of accident. The school have just rung. They want me to go to the hospital; they called an ambulance for her.’
‘Where are you now?’ he asked immediately.
‘Just leaving work. Can you come, please?’
‘I’ll meet you there.’ He didn’t ask questions; he didn’t say goodbye. He just hung up, and I knew he’d already be on his way.
Reaching the car, I climbed in, and as I reversed out of the tight space – fumbling with my staff pass to activate the barrier – I tried to calm down. They were with Beth, they would be looking after her, she would be safe, but despite my repeating it to myself over and over again, I put my foot to the floor and sped through a light that had already turned red. She would be calling for me.
* * *
When I arrived at the hospital, there was nowhere to park and, after driving around in an increasing state of panic, I eventually dumped it in a disabled space. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I shouted breathlessly, as an elderly man pulled up alongside the car, pointing crossly at the blue badge on his dashboard, ‘my daughter needs me.’
Once I was inside A&E, I ran up to the desk. ‘My name is Jessica Davies. I’m the mother of Beth Davies, who was admitted by ambulance.’
The nurse only briefly looked up. ‘Please take a seat. Someone will be with you in a moment.’
Oddly, her indifference was hugely reassuring. Starting to calm down a little, now I had arrived, I did as I was told, even noticing the sign asking for all mobile phones to be switched off. I was obediently reaching into my bag when someone said: ‘Mrs Davies?’
I looked up into the face of an older male doctor, who gave me the small, sad smile, at which my heart seized with panic. I knew that smile. It was the same one the nurses and doctors had given me the last time Mum was admitted.
‘Could you come with me?’
I stood up, starting to feel light-headed with fear, and followed him through a set of swinging doors. He stopped in front of what was clearly a relative’s room, and politely gestured for me to go in. There was a nurse sitting in there, and two other empty chairs.
No. He should be taking me straight to Beth.
‘Please, Mrs Davies.’ He motioned again, not unkindly, but as I slowly stepped over the threshold, I turned round wildly as he closed the door behind him.
‘What’s happened to my daughter? Why have you brought me in here?’
‘Please could you sit down, Mrs Davies?’
‘No.’ I shook my head; my heart was now thumping uncontrollably. ‘Where is Beth?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Davies, but I have to tell you that—’
Oh
my
God