‘We should go back to bed, try to get some sleep,’ Clare said at last. We all nodded.
‘Want to pull your mattress in with us?’ Nina said unexpectedly to Tom. ‘I wouldn’t want to be by myself.’
‘Thanks,’ Tom said. ‘That— that’s very kind. But I’ll be fine. I’ll lock my door, just in case anyone’s after my virtue. Not that I’ve got much left.’
‘That was nice,’ I said to Nina after we had said goodnight to Tom and Clare and were huddled up in our own beds. ‘What you said to Tom, I mean.’
‘Nice, schmice. I felt sorry for the poor guy. Plus he looks like he’d have a mean right hook if anyone did break in.’ She sighed, and then rolled over. ‘Want me to leave the light on?’
‘No, it’s OK. That door’s locked now – that’s the main thing.’
‘Fair enough.’ She clicked off the light and I saw the glow of her phone. ‘Gone two. Bloody hell. And still not a single bar of reception. How about you? Got anything?’
I reached for my phone.
It wasn’t there.
‘Hang on, I need to put the light on. I can’t find it.’
I flicked the switch and looked around, beneath the bed, beneath the bedside table, then inside my bag. No phone. No phone anywhere, in fact – just the unhooked charger trailing across the floor. I tried to remember when I’d last had it. In the car maybe? I remembered using it at lunchtime. But after that, I couldn’t be sure. I’d got out of the habit of checking it here – with no reception it seemed pointless. I thought I remembered taking it up here to charge it before supper, but maybe that was Friday. Most likely it had slipped out of my pocket in the car.
‘It’s not here,’ I said. ‘I think I must have left it in the car.’
‘Never mind,’ Nina said. She yawned. ‘Just remember to find it tomorrow before we leave, yeah?’
‘All right. Night.’
‘Goodnight.’
There was a rustle of duvet, as she huddled down. I closed my eyes. I tried to sleep.
What happened next …?
Oh God. What happened next. I’m not sure I can …
I am still sitting there, trying to put my confused tumble of thoughts in order when the door swings wide and the nurse comes back in pushing a trolley.
‘The doctor wants to have a wee look at your scans but he says very likely you can have a bath after that. And I’ve got some breakfast for you here.’
‘Listen,’ I try to sit up against the sliding shifting pillows. ‘Listen, the police outside the door – are they here for me?’
She looks uncomfortable and her gaze slides off to the small square of glass as she sets out Rice Crispies in a little carton, a jug of milk and a single clementine. ‘They’re investigating the accident,’ she says at last. ‘I’m sure they’ll want tae speak to you, but the doctor has to sign you off. I’ve told them, they’re not barging into a hospital ward at this hour. They’ll have tae wait.’
‘I heard …’ I swallow, hard, my throat hurting as if something is trying to escape – a sob or a scream. ‘I heard them say something about a d-death …’
‘Och!’ She looks annoyed, banging the locker drawer shut with unnecessary force. ‘They shouldna be worriting you, with your poor head.’
‘But it’s true? Someone died?’
‘I can’t say about that. I cannae discuss other patients.’
‘Is it true?’
‘I’ll have tae ask you tae calm down,’ she says, and spreads out her hands in a professionally soothing gesture that makes me want to scream. ‘It’s not good for your head to be getting upset like this.’
‘Upset? One of my friends is probably dead, and you’re telling me I shouldn’t be upset? Who? For God’s sake, who? And why can’t I remember? Why can’t I remember what happened before the accident?’
‘It’s quite common,’ she says, her voice still in that strange soothing cadence, as if she’s speaking to a small child, or someone hard of understanding. ‘Following a head injury. It’s tae do with the way the brain transfers short-term to long-term memory. If something interrupts the process you can lose a bit of time.’
Oh God, I must remember. I must remember what happened because someone is dead, and the police are outside, they are going to come and ask me, and how can I know, how can I know what I’m saying, what I’m revealing, if I don’t know what happened?
I see myself, running, running through the forest with the blood on my hands and on my face and on my clothes …
‘Please,’ I say, and my voice is close to cracking, close to pleading, and I hate myself for being so weak and needy. ‘Please tell me, please help me, what’s happened? What’s happened to my friends? Why was I covered in such a lot of blood? My head wound wasn’t that bad. Where did all the blood come from?’