His words freed a part of me, lifting a suffocating weight from my chest. Who knew that what I’d needed the most was his reassurance that he’d help? I guess I’d been carrying too much on my own to breathe.
Outside the car, the air was full of drizzle with a strong breeze rustling the auburn leaves. Though it was a small hospital in an affluent area, St Michael’s still had that faded hospital look, with a dirty-beige painted exterior and steps grimy with moss leading to the entrance. I pulled my woollen cardigan closer to my throat to stem the chill.
We walked the familiar steps towards the ward and exchanged pleasantries with Dr Schaffer. The family liaison officers from the police were already there. PC Denise Ellis was a short but sturdy woman of Afro-Caribbean descent. PC Marcus Hawthorne was tall, lanky and pasty-faced, with limp red hair. Though I preferred DCI Stevenson to keep us updated, the two of them seemed mild-mannered and professional, never raising their voices and always offering us cups of tea and coffee.
We walked into Aiden’s room to find him standing at the window staring out. He was dressed in jeans and a striped jumper that I’d dropped off at the hospital. He hadn’t had his hair cut, so it was still straggly and touched the tops of his shoulders. His eyes were slightly red-rimmed, though I doubted it was from crying. More likely he’d had a bad night’s sleep. I hoped he didn’t have any nightmares, but I was almost sure he did.
“Are you all set?” I asked, again with the bright, cheery voice that sounded forced. I kept reminding myself of annoying TV presenters on the kids’ channel, bright-eyed and blonde with a permanent grin fixed to their faces.
Aiden moved away from the window and towards me, but again he didn’t say a word. He didn’t really look at me either, but at least he was walking towards me. That was a start. It was an acknowledgement of my presence. It was better than nothing.
“Right then, pal,” Rob said. “You’d better say your goodbyes to Dr Schaffer and the others. We’re taking you home, mate. Mum’s got Walnut the Dragon all ready for you.”
I’d almost forgotten that bit. Aiden insisted on calling his dragon Walnut because my mum loved her Walnut Whips, and I was always teasing her about the walnut addiction. Somehow, Aiden latched onto the association between his Nana and the walnuts. Hearing the familiar name hit me in the gut with a bomb of emotion. It erupted through me, fireworks extending to my fingers and toes. That was what I used to have. That was my perfect, happy time.
Aiden followed us silently as we made our way back through the hospital to the carpark. His footsteps were quiet, though he still moved with a stiff gait. The jeans and jumper I’d bought for him were for a much younger child, yet they still hung loosely on his hips. Dr Schaffer had told me to cook plenty of protein-rich foods, like chicken and fish, to help build up his muscles.
I longed to take his hand but I refrained, aware of how much he disliked being touched. Instead, I matched his stride, stepping along with him, and facing the rest of the hospital with him as we walked him out of the building together. All eyes were on him. Every nurse stopped what they were doing to stare at the boy who had come back from the dead. Every room we passed, the patients and visitors peeked out through the doors. And the closer we got to the front of the hospital, the more a seeping sense of dread worked its way through my system. I glanced at Denise, and saw the tension running along her jaw. She felt it too.
Word had got out.
If the hospital staff and patients knew who Aiden was, that meant gossip of Aiden’s strange arrival had started to spread. But how far had it gone?
We were only two or three paces out of the glass doors when a wiry man with a hooked nose stepped into our path.
“Matthew Grey from the Yorkshire Post. Is this Aiden Price?”
Marcus stepped forward, shielding Aiden from the intrusive man, while Denise whispered to me, “Don’t say anything.”
Rob and I put our heads down and walked on, guiding Aiden gently away, but the man sidestepped Marcus and approached Aiden directly.
“Are you Aiden Price?”
“Get away from him,” I said between my teeth. This time I did take Aiden’s hand. I pulled him away from the reporter and hurried to the car with my heart beating hard and my chest tight.
This time it was only one. Next time, we wouldn’t be so lucky.
12
PC Denise Ellis put the kettle on as soon as we made it into the house.