At first, she’d been so utterly gobsmacked it hadn’t sunk in. She was convinced they’d made a mistake, some silly yet appalling hospital error, and for a brief moment wondered if she could sue them and what the compensation might be for psychological damage. Then she’d started to think about the possibility it was true. It was too big to ignore and so she’d gone to the hospital and waited outside the ward for one of the cleaners to come out, one she recognized from her vigil during all those early weeks and with whom she’d regularly struck up conversation on her lonely afternoons. She’d initially refused to be drawn, but Cherry’s five crisp ten-pound notes had helped and she’d told her Daniel had been transferred to a private hospital, the Wellington, in northwest London, sometime in late February. She wouldn’t say anything else, but Cherry had enough. On calling the Wellington, she’d been told they couldn’t give out any information other than that he’d been discharged on 26 May. If you were dead, you weren’t discharged.
A cold realization had started to form. She remembered the sudden funeral, the fact it was family only. It was all very convenient to tidy him away before she got back. At first, the idea popping into her head was so incredibly callous, so unbelievable that she thought she must have made a mistake. No one hated her that much, she thought tentatively, but couldn’t quite bury the wounded feeling that maybe, just maybe they did. Amid the hurt, she forced herself to face up to the possible fictitious scenario that had duped her. The only way to find out for certain was to confront Laura, and so she’d gone to her office. The final confirmation came from watching Laura’s face that morning.
Just think, if she’d been a little kinder, a little more human, she’d have got away with it.
She’d taken away everything that Cherry had worked hard for, cherished, aspired to, her whole raison d’être. In one cruel, megalomaniacal swipe. Had Laura been laughing at her all this time? Talking about the poor little Croydon girl who’d got ideas above her station? To think she’d tried so hard to be friends! How dare she? she thought. How dare she think that because she had money she was better, that she could control the lives of other people? She would not be humiliated again. It had taken all her strength when she’d seen Laura that morning not to fly at her, but that would’ve been a waste. Cherry wanted her to feel exactly as she felt, that sense of injustice and helplessness when someone just comes up and snatches away what you cared about and grinds you into the dust with their heel while they’re at it. No, Laura needed to be taught a lesson.
Cherry also wanted Daniel back. She’d been given another chance and this time she wasn’t going to mess it up. No stupid white-water-rafting trips. She had to tread carefully – after all, he’d probably been told she’d given up on him, dumped him when he was in a coma. Her heart suddenly stopped. What if he’d met someone else? Oh, please don’t let that be true, she thought, and knew she had to get a move on. So between her two goals and the pressing urgency she had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of planning. Her mind switched on and it was a joyous feeling. Energy flooded through her for the first time in months. Her mum, home mid-afternoon after an early shift, was the first to notice the change.
‘Have you got a job, love?’
‘Yes, Mum, I have. A very important one.’
She was pulled into a bear hug. ‘Congratulations! What is it?’
‘Putting right a wrong.’
Wendy looked puzzled. ‘Are you working for a charity?’
Cherry considered. She might as well think that as anything. ‘That’s right.’
‘Good for you, love. It’s about time more people out there did something for others. I’m thinking of doing the Midnight Walk – you know, for breast cancer. Do you fancy coming with?’
‘Think I might be a bit busy with the new job, Mum.’
Cherry felt alive. This was the project, the focus she’d been looking for. She escaped to her bedroom and started by writing a list of everything Daniel had ever said about Laura, his parents, anything that might be of some value. She had an excellent memory, something she was particularly proud of and had used to full advantage throughout her life. Once, she’d been off school for a few days with flu and the dreaded French verb test was on the day of her return. All she’d had to do was scan the workbook while they were lining up to go in and she’d known the conjugations of souhaiter perfectly.
When she was done with her list, there was quite a bit on there, some of it really useful. She was going to have a lot of fun. But the first thing she was going to do was see Daniel. Laura wouldn’t tell him about her coming to the office, not immediately, because then she’d have to explain why. And that she couldn’t do without admitting she’d lied about his death. No, she’d likely build herself up to it. But Cherry knew she wouldn’t leave it too long, wouldn’t dare to. She’d be too afraid Cherry would get to him first. So Cherry decided to make sure she would do just that. She threw on her jacket and told her mum she was going out for some air.
She walked the ten minutes to Wandle Park and found a quiet bench. The park was quite busy with dog walkers, mums pushing prams and some of the kids out of school, but was still big enough for people to have space, and no one came near her. Making sure she dialled a prefix that would hide her own number, Cherry dialled Laura’s office.
‘Hello. Can I speak to Willow, please?’
A click and she was put through.
‘Hello, Cavendish Pictures.’
‘Oh, hi, Willow. This is Rachel Thornton, PA to Alison Forest at ITV drama.’ Such a good idea of hers to chat to Willow earlier when she’d gone to the office. She’d found out she’d only been there a few days and it was her first TV job. It was unlikely that she’d be familiar with people’s voices and she was usefully green. ‘I’m calling about The New Life of Heather Brown.’
‘Oh, I so love this project.’
‘Me too. It’s one of my favourites on our slate.’
‘Really?’ Willow was delighted.
‘Absolutely. Such a good script.’
‘I can’t wait to see it made,’ gushed Willow.
‘You should ask Laura if you can come and visit the set.’
‘Oh my God, I’d love that.’
Cherry smiled. She was so trusting. ‘Listen, Alison’s asked if Laura can come in for a meeting tomorrow morning. She’s got some issues on the casting and is keen to lock it down asap.’ ITV were so helpful in putting all their executives’ names on their website when they promoted their upcoming dramas. It had all been incredibly simple and hadn’t stretched her one bit.
‘She’s got an hour between ten and eleven?’ Willow sounded worried for the future of the drama. She was so unsuspecting Cherry almost felt sorry for her.
‘That’s great. We’ll see her then. Alison’s out of the office and offline this afternoon, but any questions she’ll answer fully tomorrow.’
And that was it. Cherry just had one more thing to prepare for and started to make her way back home to her mum’s flat. It was time to open the boxes.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Wednesday 16 September
The next morning, dressed carefully in an electric-blue dress that Daniel had bought her in France, the one that showed off her raven hair, Cherry made her way along Cadogan Square. As she turned into the front path of number 38, she felt herself grow heavy-hearted. She rang the bell. After a few moments, she heard footsteps coming to the door. It opened and Cherry looked up and screamed. Then she fainted, falling halfway across the threshold.
When she came round, Daniel had pulled her into the hallway and shut the door. She tried to sit up, but her head hurt. She’d hit it when she fell, something that she’d been prepared for. She stared at him in shock, still terrified.
‘Are you all right?’ he said matter-of-factly.