His fingers slide over to my right eye and he opens it. I can just make out the fuzzy outline of a person looming over me before he shines a bright light into my eye, leaving me completely blind. All I see now is white with a shower of moving dots. He does the same with my left eye and then my world returns to black.
‘I think you’re progressing a bit too quickly. Maybe we just need to slow things down a little.’
I can hear him doing something but I don’t know what. Just when I run out of hope and accept my fate, I hear the door open.
‘How’s she doing?’ asks Paul. I don’t understand why he is so calm about finding this man in my room, but then I remember that all he sees is a medical professional.
‘I’m afraid I’m not really the best person to ask,’ says Edward.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve met so many people . . . haven’t we spoken before?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m just the night porter . . .’
The porter? I don’t understand.
‘ . . . and this is the start of the night shift, so you really shouldn’t still be here now.’
‘Should you?’ asks Paul.
It’s silent for a moment and I’m scared of what will happen next.
‘I’ve just brought your wife back from a scan. Just doing my job.’
You didn’t tell him you were my husband. Think, Paul, think.
‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I’m very tired, I apologise. You must see all sorts, working nights in this place,’ says Paul.
‘You’d be amazed the things that go on here after dark,’ Edward replies. ‘I don’t mind if you want to stay a little longer, say your goodbyes, but you’ll need to leave soon. Hospital rules, hope you understand. Don’t worry though, we’ll take good care of her while you’re gone.’
Edward leaves and Paul and I are alone. He drags a chair closer to my bed and sits down. I have to find a way to tell him that the man he just spoke to is keeping me here. I don’t understand why Edward said he was the night porter or why Paul believed him. Claire comes into the room and for once I’m glad. She’s smart, she’ll figure this out.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just some porter guy, he said we need to leave.’
‘He’s probably right, it’s late’ she says, sitting down next to Paul, no longer on opposite sides.
‘She moved her finger, you saw it too, she was pointing at something, I know it,’ he says.
I remember now. I pointed at the EXIT sign. I thought it was a dream but they saw me!
‘I saw her finger move yes, but you heard what the doctor said earlier. There are coma patients who move their hands, open their eyes, even speak, but they’re still in a coma. Her moving is just like someone twitching in their sleep when they’re having a bad dream.’
This is more than just a bad dream.
‘I think we need to stay positive, see what they say when the rest of the results come back—’
‘I think we need to be realistic,’ interrupts Claire.
Nobody says anything for a while.
‘For what it’s worth, I don’t believe them either,’ she says eventually.
‘You think the doctors are lying to us?’
‘Not lying, I just don’t think they’re listening. It did seem like she was trying to communicate and they don’t know her like we do.’
‘Then why hasn’t she done it again?’
‘Have you even asked her to? What if she’s lying there hearing every word of this?’
Claire takes my hand; her fingers are icy cold.
‘Amber, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.’
‘This is stupid.’
‘Maybe that’s too difficult.’ She lets go of my hand and puts it back down on the bed. ‘OK, Amber, we’re watching your right hand. If you can hear me, move your finger, just a tiny bit.’ I want to, I try so hard to, but he’s done something to me, I know he has. I focus all of myself on my right hand, I feel as though I must be panting with the effort, but nothing happens.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Claire.
‘Don’t be,’ says Paul. ‘I know you’re just trying to help. You’re probably right about getting some rest too, we should go soon.’
Please don’t.
‘Five minutes, then we’ll go.’
The three of us sit in silence for a while. I wish they would talk, I can feel myself slipping away to somewhere else and I could really do with something to hold on to. Claire speaks first.
‘We’re going to need to get some help if this is going to be a long-term situation.’
‘It isn’t.’
‘I hope it isn’t too, but if it is, we can’t do this on our own.’
‘Yes, we can, we’ll just take it in turns to watch her.’
‘For a few more days maybe, but then what? David is going nuts looking after the twins, it’s not like when my parents were around to help out. Are there any of her friends we can call?’
Paul doesn’t reply.
‘She still has friends, doesn’t she?’ Claire persists.
‘She talks about Jo at work, they go out sometimes.’
Their conversation stumbles and I feel sick. Claire recovers her composure before I do.
‘A friend called Jo?’
‘Yes, a woman.’
I can almost hear her thinking.
‘Have you ever met her?’ she asks.
‘No. Why?’
‘No reason. Well, maybe she can help.’
‘I don’t have her number.’
‘Well, it will be in her phone, won’t it?’
I hear Paul open something and then picture him going through my handbag, the room starts to spin one way and my bed turns in the other direction. I can hear her singing in the distance, the little girl in pink, but I have to stay here, I have to stop this from happening. Paul cannot go through my phone, there are things he must not see. I think I remember something bad. Something I shouldn’t have done that would make any husband angry if they found out. The memory feels real and is joined by another. Strong hands tightening around my throat again, fighting for breath, for the first time I think I remember why. The fears brick themselves up inside my head so that nothing else can get in or out.
‘The battery is dead,’ he says. The room slows down again but doesn’t stop spinning completely. ‘I’ll take it home tonight and charge it.’
Then
Friday, 23rd December 2016 – Late Afternoon
‘I can’t believe I just did that,’ I say.
‘Neither can I but I’m glad you did,’ Edward replies.
‘They’ll all be talking about me now, running off with a stranger halfway through the Christmas lunch.’
‘I’m hardly a stranger.’
We walk into the bar and sit at the same table I sat at with Jo a few days earlier. I like this place, it feels safe, familiar, like nothing bad could ever happen here.
‘Things have been a bit difficult at work recently. I’d rather have a quick drink with an old friend instead of making polite conversation over warm Prosecco.’ I pause for a moment, knowing I need to say more. ‘That’s all this is though, two friends having a drink to clear the air.’
‘Understood,’ Edward replies. ‘What can I get you?’
‘I’ll get them,’ I insist, taking my purse out of my handbag and leaving it on the chair. It’s heavy with all the things I didn’t want to leave behind at the office, things I might need. ‘A pint of whatever pale beer they’ve got on draught in that case.’