I rolled myself out of the room and into the empty hall, my heart cantering, hoping I’d find a lift close by. When I found one around the first corner, I pushed the right button, rested my head against the wall and cried all the way down to A & E.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, two doctors were standing there, presumably waiting for the lift.
‘Oh,’ the male one said, looking stunned. I saw his eyes move to the space behind me, as if expecting someone to materialize there and explain my presence.
‘I’m looking for Dr Oliver,’ I tried to say, but my throat was tight with pain and fear and the result was barely comprehensible.
‘Dr Oliver?’ the other doctor said slowly, her eyes moving from my leg to my arm to my face. ‘Are you on the right floor?’
The doors started to close, and I shot my hand out to keep them open. I stumbled slightly out of the wheelchair, put too much weight on my bad leg and let out an involuntary howl of pain. The eyes of the two doctors went wide, and they both reached out automatically to grab my arms.
‘He’s my dad,’ I started to say, just as the unmistakable broad figure of my father appeared at the other end of the corridor. He wasn’t looking at us, and was talking animatedly with the nurse beside him, gesturing to the chart he was holding. ‘Dad!’ I yelled.
His head jolted up, and he looked around with the confused expression of someone hearing a familiar noise completely out of context. Then he saw me, and a look of shock overwhelmed his features. Shoving the chart at the nurse, he almost ran towards me, covering the corridor’s length in seconds. ‘Cadnam,’ he half shouted, half gasped.
When he got closer, I realized his expression was almost panicked. He reached for me, his fingers gripping into my shoulders. ‘What is she doing here?’ His voice was raised almost to a yell, and it was full of an anger I’d never heard before. He was directing the question at the poor doctors who’d been holding on to me.
‘We were just waiting for the lift and she appeared,’ the woman said, her voice steady and calm.
Dad looked down at me and gave my shoulders a shake. ‘What are you doing out of bed, Cadnam?’
‘I need to talk to you,’ I said. His panic was catching, and my voice sounded pitched and breathless. ‘It’s really important.’ The words were so inadequate. I sounded like a schoolchild out of her depth.
‘Tell me – what’s wrong? What’s happened?’ His eyes were darting all over my face. He still looked half terrified. ‘Did something happen?’
‘No, it’s not me.’ I could feel tears at the back of my throat again. My desperation was building because I knew what would happen as soon as I mentioned Suzanne’s name. I had to make him listen to me, and when had that ever worked? ‘It’s . . . it’s Suzanne.’
The effect was immediate. His panicky expression vanished, his grip loosened. He let out a frustrated sigh and actually rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake.’ Another loud exhalation. ‘Jesus, Cadnam, I thought something had happened. You frightened the life out of me.’
‘No.’ I tried to make my voice firm. ‘No, Dad. It’s not like that. You have to listen to me. I think she’s—’
‘Whatever it is, we can talk about it in the morning,’ Dad said briskly. ‘Right now it’s important that you get your rest. Claudia, would you please take my daughter back to her room?’
‘No,’ I said again. ‘No, you have to listen. I think –’ My voice caught. ‘I think she might hurt herself.’
Dad set his jaw, closing his eyes briefly. ‘Cadnam. You need to calm down and go to bed.’ Had he even heard me?
The female doctor was watching me closely. ‘Who’s Suzanne?’ she asked.
‘She’s a troublemaker,’ Dad said, before I could even open my mouth. ‘She’s the reason Caddy is here at all.’
‘And why do you think she might hurt herself?’ The woman directed the question at me. Her voice was gentle.
‘She came to visit me tonight, said she wanted to say sorry. And she said she was being taken into care, but she said once before, ages ago, that she’d rather die than go into care.’ I said all of this in a torrent, trying to get it all out before Dad could interrupt me again. ‘And she said stuff like she’s beyond help, and – and! – that she’d come to say goodbye. And she gave me her necklace, which is like her favourite thing – she never takes it off.’ At some point during my rambling I’d reached out and grabbed hold of the woman’s sleeve. I only realized when I’d finally stopped speaking, and I let go, embarrassed even in my panic.
There was a silence. Had I been convincing enough? ‘Daddy,’ I heard myself say. ‘Please.’ Tears were coursing down my face. The image of Suzanne handing me the necklace was looping in my head. ‘It doesn’t matter what you think of her.’
He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Do you have a telephone number for Sarah?’ he asked me finally.
‘No,’ I said. My voice was starting to shake. ‘I don’t have my mobile, remember?’
‘When did Suzanne leave here?’