‘He heard everything.’ My voice sounds distant but it makes Lizzie look up from her tissue and nod at me.
‘I think he heard much more than the rest of us put together.’
Lizzie’s right; Frank knew Jack, and he knew Cassie, probably better than any of us.
I stare at Frank’s ruined bed, and picture him from the morning, how his eyes strained, how I got it wrong. He wasn’t blinking ‘L’; he was trying to blink ‘J’. Of course, he was trying to warn me. He was trying to spell Jack.
I have surprisingly few thoughts, as though the words I just heard are in a queue, waiting to move from my ear into my brain to be processed and assimilated into something coherent.
Frank knew it was Jack and Charlotte found out Frank was getting better.
I ignore Lizzie as she calls out, tears still thick in her throat.
‘Where are you going, Alice?’
But I’m running now, to the end of the ward, past Sharma’s room, past reception and left through the doors. The small, hunched figure from before is still rocking back and forth on the chairs.
Charlotte’s aged; the lines on her face like scars, and her hair hangs by her face in a limp curtain. Her eyes are red and the skin underneath puffed as though she’s been punched hard.
I stand in front of her and for the first time, we don’t smile to see each other. Her fingers twist her wedding ring, round and round her finger. I walk slowly towards her, my body heavy. I stand before her for a moment and then I hear myself say, ‘Frank’s dead, Charlotte.’
The words feel cold in my mouth. Her hands still and she raises her eyebrows towards me and she nods, like she was expecting those three words, before her shaky hands keep on with their work, twisting her ring round and round. They don’t pause as she whispers, ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I tried to get help.’
My eyes stay fixed on her pinched face; keeping my gaze on her seems to strengthen my resolve and stops the world speeding around me.
‘You were with Frank, weren’t you, Charlotte.’
Her lips quiver like she’s about to speak, but she doesn’t make a sound; she just keeps twisting her ring round and round.
‘You know, Jack’s name was Frank’s last word.’
She turns her eyes up slowly, but she still doesn’t look at me. It’s as though my words are too heavy; she doesn’t have the strength to raise her eyes to me.
She knows.
Her hands, at last, still as I keep talking.
‘But he didn’t blink to prove he knew Jack’s name. I know now; he was trying to warn us.’
She lets her hands drop to her lap.
‘All this is her fault. Nicky. She lied to see Cassie. She can’t handle her guilt.’
But I won’t be distracted, not any more.
‘Jack hit Cassie,’ I say, feeling how strange it is that such short, simple words can change the way the world spins. ‘Frank knew it was Jack and you panicked.’
She stands up suddenly, her face set, a ferocious mask of the kindly face I thought I knew. She points her finger down the hallway, where Nicky would have walked, not long before.
‘All this is her fault. She tried to take what wasn’t hers. I was protecting my son.’ Charlotte frowns, then, as she looks at me, her face cracks into a frown. I know that look well; I see it in my family, my friends. Charlotte pities me: in spite of it all, she pities me.
‘This must be so hard for you to understand –’ her jaw clicks around her words ‘– the maternal instinct to protect is stronger than anything you could possibly imagine. You have no idea what it’s been like, coming here day after day, praying the baby is ours, my granddaughter, Jack’s daughter, but still not knowing for sure who her father is.’
Neither of us hears him approach; his voice is so small, our concentration so firmly fixed on each other, that it takes us both a moment to turn towards him when Jack says, ‘I’m Freya’s father.’
His voice shocks Charlotte like electricity. She turns, stronger on her feet suddenly, and moves towards her son, opening her arms to him. They beg to hold him. But Jack shakes his head; he takes a cautious step away from her.
‘Mum, what is this?’ Jack looks at his mum, at me. He sees the muscle twitch in Charlotte’s face and I know he senses the horror I feel in my chest. ‘Mum!’ he says again louder this time.
‘Jack. Nicky was here. She was telling lies, all sorts of lies about you. But it’s OK. It’s all going to be OK.’ She tries to make her words sound soothing but it doesn’t work.
Jack’s face darkens. ‘She told you what happened between us.’
Charlotte nods and says, ‘But I know it was her, Jack. I know all of it was her.’
‘No, Mum.’ His eyes wrinkle in pain as he talks, but I can also hear a fullness to his voice; it sounds like a relief as he looks at Charlotte and says, ‘Nicky’s right. I betrayed Cassie in the worst way possible. I have to live with that fact, that I failed her, for the rest of my life.’ He lifts his eyes to meet mine and I know, the way I know I have to keep breathing, that he loves her. He keeps staring at me as he continues talking. ‘But I’ll do anything to make it right. I was too ashamed to tell anyone about Nicky. She kept calling me. She wouldn’t leave me alone. I was worried the police would think we were having a proper affair, and that would be a motive for me to hurt Cassie. I was terrified that Freya would be born with no parent to love her.’
At last, he lifts his eyes away from mine, to stare past me, past Charlotte. His gaze seems to travel down the corridor, towards the ward, towards where Cassie used to lie.
‘I’m not good enough for her. I thought about leaving her for her own sake. Then decided I’d try harder over Christmas. But that only made Cassie pull away from me even more. I knew I was coming on too strong. I didn’t know what to do. I was frustrated, angry with myself, wasn’t ready to accept what I secretly knew. She didn’t love me any more. I should have let her go.’
‘No, Jack, no. It was wrong of her to try and leave you that night. She deserved it!’ Charlotte’s voice is brittle as though it could snap on any word.
Jack frowns at his mum as though he’s seeing with new eyes and he says, ‘I’ve just come from the police station. They’ve been questioning me about that night. They asked me where I usually keep my car keys at home. I told them I keep them in the little bowl on the side unit in the hall. I thought it was a weird question.’ He stares at his mum. ‘But then I remembered. You told me Cassie had gone after Maisie. I wanted to go and look for her. But I couldn’t find my car keys. They weren’t in the bowl. You had them. Didn’t you, Mum?’
Charlotte doesn’t move. Her face is frozen, her eyes fixed on her son as he keeps talking.
‘You said I was drunk. But I remember, your hand was shaking as you poured me a glass of water.’
‘Jack …’ she says, raising her palm to her son, trying to calm the storm we can both feel building within Jack, but it’s impossible; she can’t stop it now.