“Well, I wanted to prepare you for the worst.”
They were both quiet after that. Because nothing had prepared his family for the worst.
At the hospital, Iqbal Bagchi was playing cards with his daughter, and Sadia and Katherine had gone for a walk in town. When they returned twenty minutes later they looked animated but exhausted, the sort of exhaustion that comes from living out of a suitcase. The friendship that had developed between them was on the surface surprising, but Bish figured the two had more in common than first appeared. Katherine’s husband may have had all the money in the world and Sadia’s very little, but both women were controlled by the roles they played as wives. Not that they allowed their husbands’ hostility towards each other to affect their budding friendship. Saffron had filled Bish in on a couple of arguments she had witnessed between the two fathers. One blamed everything on Islam, the other blamed the problems of the world on Western dominance.
Bish ended up in the cafeteria with Sadia and Katherine, drinking bad coffee and eating almond biscuits made by Iqbal’s aunt.
“Would it be possible to see Lola’s and Manoshi’s photos from the trip?” he asked.
Sadia told him that Manoshi wasn’t allowed on social media yet. It meant that all her photos had been stored on her phone, which was destroyed in the blast.
Katherine retrieved her iPad. “Most of Lola’s are very silly, so I don’t think they’ll be much help.” She logged into an Instagram account and showed Bish.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that the French haven’t asked for them? Or even British intelligence?” she asked.
“I’m presuming they don’t have to ask,” Bish replied. “Not if they’re investigating a terrorist attack.”
“We’ve been able to collect some photos of Astrid and Michael to send to their parents,” Katherine said. “Not much of a consolation, but those kids were very happy.”
Bish flicked through the screen while the women chatted. “Katherine and I have set up a blog,” Sadia told him. “It’s been such a big job keeping everyone up to date otherwise. Family, friends, the other children on the tour, their parents. We even get letters from people on the foreign buses who were at the campsite that day. Everyone is desperate to know how Manoshi and Lola and Fionn are coping.”
Looking at the photos, Bish was even more convinced that the kids on the Normandy tour had enjoyed it, regardless of what Lucy Gilies had implied. Lots of tongues in ears. Pouts. A few Blue Steel Zoolander poses. Perhaps there may have been a touch of antagonism, hostility, indifference, but these shots showed a connection among the kids before the bomb went off.
“Our readership has doubled in two days,” Katherine said. “We even get comments from people in Australia. They’re quite upset there about the treatment of Violette, apparently.”
“Well, their government should have taken a strong stance earlier,” Bish said.
“Astrid Copely’s sister wrote a beautiful piece in her honor,” Katherine said. “Of course we’d never ask her parents for anything, but teenagers are used to expressing their every thought on social media. She wrote about the fear she has that Astrid will be remembered as a tragedy, when she was such an annoying prankster.” Katherine burst into tears. It took the others by surprise, and seemed to surprise Katherine even more.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Sadia took Katherine’s hand, squeezing it.
“An aisle. That’s all it was,” Katherine said. “This side of the aisle said our girls lived and the other side said their children died.”
“There but for the grace of God. That’s what Fionn’s mother says.” Sadia was nodding.
“Then she’s visited him?” Saffron asked.
Sadia made a clicking sound that said no. “She rings every day and we speak often. But she’s a recluse.”
“They miss each other,” Katherine said. “The doctors are doing everything to get Fionn well enough to transfer him up to Newcastle.”
“If they miss each other, then she should be here with her son,” Bish said.
Sadia and Katherine exchanged a knowing look. “It’s about her size,” Sadia said with a confirming nod. “She’s a big woman.”
They returned to Manoshi’s room and Iqbal went to get some fresh air, which meant a cigarette. Saffron volunteered to go with him.
“Can I speak to the girls together?” Bish asked Katherine and Sadia. Moments later, Katherine guided Lola into Manoshi’s room, an arm hovering close to her daughter, who was trying to get accustomed to reduced vision. Lola had been walking unassisted for a day now and seemed pleased with herself.