Maisie barks, thinking the sound of the glass smashing against the kitchen island is another firework. Cassie shakes the shards to the floor like tears before she carefully plucks the photo away from the smashed frame. She looks at April’s face, in her bright-blue head scarf. She looks like she’s smiling encouragement at Cassie, urging her on, and as she shoves the photo into her pocket, she knows that tonight her mum would be proud of her.
She opens the front door and feels the darkness again pull her forward as she walks quickly down the drive and onto the lane, deep into the thick night. The air electrocutes her lungs with each icy inhale, and her legs feel slick, sure of their new direction. The stream bubbles jollily along by her side, while the branches from the silver birch trees creak above her. She doesn’t use her phone torch after all. The clouds have passed while she was inside, and the moon itself is extra shiny tonight, like it’s been polished, ready for the New Year. Surprising herself, she starts to hum, something made up, childlike; it’s a nonsense but she doesn’t care and she doesn’t feel ashamed.
Maisie’s scampered off, and her humming turns into a call for the little dog.
‘Maisie!’ She listens before she calls again, listens again. She keeps walking; Maisie will be scampering around in a field somewhere, lost to everything except the smell of rabbits. The bag’s digging into her shoulder. She lifts it, rolls her neck a couple of times.
The flash from the car lights behind her is a surprise at first, like they’re intruding on her private moment. As she turns, they blind her. The shape of the car looks familiar; it’s the car she sees every day, parked outside their cottage. It’s the car that drives Jack to work and home again. Shit, shit, shit. She has no choice; she waves at him, casting shadows on the tarmac, her arms preposterously long. He must be pissed, driving after her like this. Maybe Charlotte called him, told him about their row, that Cassie told her about Jack and Nicky. She decides to run to the passing point, but Jack must be livid, he must want to scare her, because instead of slowing, he starts driving faster. The car lights bounce up and down on the uneven surface. She waves again, screams his name, her bag falling from her shoulder. The car bites into her side, the impact making her spin, an insane pirouette to the edge of the stream. Her feet can’t keep up and she falls back, thorns shred her useless hands as she clutches the hedgerows for support. She hears herself scream, distant, as if it’s coming from someone else far away, her head sounds like a piece of meat as it hits something hard. The water, like a million freezing needles pierces her, but the stream fits her well. She opens her eyes, watches the white clouds of her breath disappear into the inky sky. She puts her hand between her thighs and raises it, but she can’t see any blood there. It’s still raining. Maisie barks and her leaden lips try and whisper her name to calm the little dog, but she doesn’t make a sound. Instead she hears the car door click open, and clipped footsteps above her. They pause for a moment. Relief crests over Cassie as she hears the click, click as the footsteps walk away again. The car roars into life above her once more and Cassie’s heart at last eases because now, finally she is on her own. She can rest. She is free.
25
Alice
Bob wakes up as I pull into our drive at last. I open the boot and, even though it’s started raining, I let him run around the garden for a while. He never did get the walk I promised. David still isn’t home, which is a relief; he’d know something was up as soon as he saw me. He’d be full of questions I wouldn’t be able to answer.
It’s just before 5 p.m. I go upstairs to find the business card Brooks gave me in the office and walk back downstairs, pour myself a glass of water and keep my eyes fixed on Bob as he gallops around the garden, delighted to be out of the car, as I dial her direct line. She answers on the second ring.
‘Brooks,’ she says her name like a reflex, as though she’s distracted by something else.
‘Hello?’ I say, unsure again how to address her.
‘Who is this?’ She doesn’t have time for civilities.
‘It’s Alice Marlowe, the nurse from Kate’s, looking after Cassie Jensen.’
‘Ah, yes. How are you?’ I have her full attention; it makes me feel more confident.
‘I know Jonny Parker’s charges are going to be dropped.’
‘Did Mr Jensen tell you that?’
I don’t answer her; where I heard it isn’t important now.
‘I have some information I need to share with you.’
‘OK,’ she says, ‘can you tell me over the phone?’
‘No, no, I want to see you in person, if that’s OK? Can I come to the station now?’
She pauses, weighing up perhaps if I’m worth postponing whatever else she had planned before she leaves for the day. I add, ‘I can be with you in an hour.’
‘OK, Nurse Marlowe, that’s fine. I’ll meet you at the station at six o’clock.’
‘Thanks,’ I say into the receiver, but she’s already hung up.
I bribe Bob inside with some leftovers from our curry last night, and ignore the pull on my heart as he whines from inside as he hears me locking the door. I’m just about to get back in my car when a strange buzzing from my bag makes me stop. It’s like someone has slipped their phone into my bag; the beep is persistent, unfamiliar, demanding attention. I dig around inside my bag and pull out my emergency work pager, flashing red and wailing. It’s never gone off before, reserved for critical use only, and I know immediately what it means; it means something has happened to Cassie.
‘Oh, god,’ I say to no one, staring at the pager, dumb for a second before I open the passenger door and, dropping my bag on the seat, start fumbling again in my bag, this time for my phone.
I start calling 9B as I sit in the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition. My heart floats up into my throat, and my mind starts to flip through images of what could have happened. Cassie in cardiac arrest, the baby’s heart rate dropping or speeding, a too-early emergency C-section.
No one answers the phone on 9B reception. I reverse to turn around, skidding the back wheels on the lawn and as I pull out of our drive I try 9B again. I don’t look properly before I pull out and another car screeches to an emergency stop to my left. ‘Dopey cow,’ the driver calls out of his window before he drives away shaking his head at me on my phone, but I don’t care; I hardly see him. Neither Mary or Carol answer their mobiles so I call the main hospital number, but they just put me through to 9B reception again.
‘Shit!’ I shout and throw my phone onto the passenger’s seat. All I can think about is Cassie, that she needs me – she needs me right now and I’m not there – so I keep my foot on the accelerator and ignore the beeps from other drivers as I barge my way through the rush-hour traffic.
I’m just a couple of minutes from Kate’s when my phone starts ringing. I grab it, hoping it’s Mary or Carol or at least someone from the hospital. But it’s David. I pause, think about not answering but I know he’ll be home now, wondering where I am. I know he’ll just keep calling until I answer.
‘David?’
‘Ali? Where are you? I thought you said you’d be—’
‘David, there’s been an emergency,’ I interrupt.