‘Yes, your colleagues have mentioned it.’ About a thousand times, I silently added. ‘But I have to be here when she wakes, no matter when that is.’
You would be scared, confused, and you’d want your parents there to hold you and tell you everything would be all right. And then you could tell us who had done this to you. Because the more I thought about it, the more I realised it had to be someone local – strangers stood out a mile in our little village, where everyone knew everyone else so well they could quote their lineage or even their favourite breakfast cereal. Besides, you’ve had stranger danger drummed into you since you were so high, and are far too sensible to disregard it – aren’t you? Which meant someone we knew had done this.
They must have lured you into their car on a pretext, then whisked you to the marsh and hurt you. It couldn’t have been for money, so… My stomach lurched. Sex?
Your fingers were digging into my palm; I uncurled my hand from the fist I’d unconsciously made, afraid I’d inadvertently hurt you. But the anger remained balled inside me as I tried to make a list of people you would trust to get into a car with. It consisted of pretty much the entire village.
A strangled sob came from beside me. Jacob wiped furiously at his face, but couldn’t hide the tears.
‘I didn’t say goodbye to her properly last night,’ he croaked. ‘Too busy watching football, I barely even looked at her. She must have thought I didn’t care.’
‘She knows how much you love her,’ I soothed.
But despite the calm of my voice, I couldn’t tamp down my growing anger. Whoever had hurt our daughter, they were going to pay.
Eleven
I swayed on my feet as I walked from the car to the front door, beyond exhausted after the last seventy-two hours or so. Dad and I hadn’t left your side since you had been found on Saturday, not even to return home to get a change of clothes. We didn’t dare, willing you to cling on – and by a miracle you had.
Now it was Tuesday afternoon, and my mum and dad were sitting with you, having previously been dog-sitting for us. Wiggins would be having a great time running round the big garden of their house on the far edge of Fenmere, so at least I didn’t need to worry about him. Between them all – John and Dad’s parents, your Grandpa Isaac and Granny Julia, and Grandpa Mick and Granny Heather – they were sorting out a rota to cover for the times your dad and I couldn’t be at the hospital. Your Aunt Tricia was in bits, so she couldn’t help, but with her living in America it wasn’t really an option.
No matter when you woke, the first thing you would see would be a person you loved.
The Family Liaison Officer had brought us back from hospital. Unable to remember her name, which Jacob kept reminding me was Britney, in my head I referred to her as Flo, because it was the initials of her job title. She had been great over the last three days, barely leaving our side, giving us updates on how the police were sweeping the area for clues and interviewing villagers. It all sounded really positive, and freed your dad and me to concentrate on you. Flo had even offered to come into the house when she dropped us off, and make us some food. We refused. We wanted to be alone for a while, at home. Get our heads together, then gather bits and bobs for you, Beth, to make the hospital room more ‘you’.
Our family home had a stale, disused air to it after being empty for three days.
‘Cup of tea?’ Jacob called as he strode into the kitchen. I shook my head, trailing after him.
‘Knackered.’ I threw a piece of paper onto the kitchen table to look at later. Jacob glanced at it. ‘It’s a list of some of the phrases chucked at us earlier. Thought I’d look them up.’
‘They’ve told us,’ he said over the sound of the running tap as he filled the kettle.
‘You know me.’
‘Always have to find stuff out yourself, yep.’
Typical journalist, always making notes and sniffing out information. Well, would-be journalist. Once upon a time I’d wanted to become one, but had given up my place at university after falling pregnant. Still, I’d never lost that basic instinct to find things out.
Now my head spun with medical information overload.
Epidural haematoma. Traumatic brain injury. Pressure in the intracranial space. Hypertension. Bradycardia. Irregular respiration. Suddenly these words were my world; it was too important not to find out more about them.
I hugged myself to keep the shivering at bay. Every muscle aching from being constantly tense; even my jaw hurt. Being in the house wouldn’t help me relax, though. It felt strange and empty without you and Wiggins. No singing, shouting, barking, no herd of elephants running down the stairs. No laughter. Just Jacob and me, rattling around.
It wasn’t simply the atmosphere; the missing pieces of our family had a physical impact too. Every noise the two of us made sounded different. Louder. More echoing. Lonely.
Someone had torn our world apart. Who would hurt you, Beth? Why?
Once again, my instinct told me it was someone we knew. Statistically, the most likely suspects were our own family, but my brain rebelled at the thought of my brother or husband as the attacker.
‘Can we go to bed?’ I asked suddenly. ‘I need a hug and some sleep.’
Tea abandoned, minutes later we were curled up together, even though it was only just gone three thirty. Beneath the covers, the smell of Jacob’s bare chest comforted me; the sweet odour of wood resin permeated his skin from hours working at the local handmade furniture factory. Something reliable in a world gone mad, its odour carried me into a dreamless sleep and fleeting respite.
Something dragged me from sleep. My eyelids felt heavy as they lifted with some effort.
A knock at the door. Gentle, apologetic, but enough to disturb my slumber. I felt groggy.
I slipped from Jacob’s side just as he groaned and turned over, his face crinkled from the pillow. As I pulled on my jeans, he sat upright.
‘What is it? Has something happened?’
‘Someone’s at the door,’ I called, hurrying from the room and down the stairs.
He was right behind me, top half-naked.
We almost fell out of the front door in our haste. Was it the police, with news of an arrest? Someone sent round to give us terrible news from the hospital?
Your best friend’s mum, Ursula Clarke, stood on the step. She held up a casserole dish. The first of no doubt many visitors we would get now we were finally home. Kind, but my heart sank, Beth – I didn’t want to see anyone or answer any questions. I didn’t have the strength.
‘Oh! I was about to leave this for you. Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you… I’ve been so worried. When I heard what had happened… well, I feel so helpless, and wanted you to know that we’re all thinking of you. If there’s anything I can do to help…’