Chapter 7

SEVEN

Dr Doherty spoke to the matron and she reluctantly agreed to let Joanna stay for just one night. She slept fitfully beside her daughter's bed, the hiss of the breathing tube receding into the background like wind through a window. Her bed for the night, a low fold-out metal contraption with a thin mattress, never seemed to warm. Every time she turned, it creaked and whined in complaint. In the half-light, she'd imagined movement from Charlotte's bed and risen to check on her, willing there to be something to give her hope. Several times, the nurse came in to check on Charlotte, the hush of her shoes on the floor reassuring. But then, Joanna would be awake again, scrolling on her phone, looking for stories that would comfort her that people survived this, that Charlotte would survive this.

When sleep did claim her, dreams assailed her rest. In one, Steve and Charlotte were just ahead, climbing a soft slope. Trying to catch them, she called out, ‘Wait!' Her voice was taken by the breeze; it returned their laughter to her. The sun deepened the blue of the sky and the green of the grass, but they got further away. Steve picked up Charlotte and turned her around and around, her head thrown back in joy. From somewhere beyond the sky a beep persisted. Joanna tried to ignore it as she called to them, ‘Wait for me!' It got louder and louder.

The hospital room came into focus. An alarm from the machine above Charlotte's bed ended with the push of a button from the nurse from the night before. She smiled at Joanna. ‘Everything's fine. You can go back to sleep.'

At eight o'clock the next morning, the electric light through the door was almost as loud as the tea trolley that rattled past. After a soft knock, a kind face appeared around the door. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, love? How do you take it?'

For a moment, Joanna didn't know where she was. The memory of the day before came crashing in like a wave that threatened to pull her under. It was all she could to do to nod and whisper, ‘Yes, please. With milk. No sugar.'

The heavy green cup wobbled on its saucer as the tea lady slipped it onto the cupboard next to Charlotte's bed. ‘I'll leave it there for you.'

Pushing herself up and out from under the thin hospital blanket – when did her body get so creaky? – she leaned over to find Charlotte remained still as a statue. ‘Good morning, sweetheart.' She searched her face for any movement. There was none. But it was still early days. Far too early to be sure about anything.

Her eyes swept the length of her daughter. In that body was another little baby. When she and Sally were pregnant together, they'd learned that – if their babies were girls – they were already carrying the eggs that could bear their own children. Effectively, they were carrying their own grandchildren. It was such a strangely beautiful thought. If Charlotte's baby was a girl, then she would have the eggs that could make her great grandchildren. Hers and Steve's.

Rubbing at her face, she tried not to think about any of that. Most important thing was to get Charlotte well. She took her hand and laid it on her stomach. ‘Your baby is in there, Charlotte. You need to wake up. She's going to need you.'

She'd had so many hopes and dreams for Charlotte. Clever, funny, beautiful and kind: the world should've been her oyster. But the most normal life would be a gift right now. It didn't matter that she hadn't gone to Durham University as they'd planned, choosing Colchester instead so that she could stay closer to home and her friends. It didn't matter that Charlotte had spent the last year picking up temporary waitressing work rather than getting a ‘proper' job so that she could focus on her band. Whatever she wanted would be fine. As long as she woke up.

In her handbag was the comb Joanna always carried. When Charlotte was little, she hated having her hair brushed and would ask again and again if she could have it all cut off. Steve couldn't understand why she wouldn't let her. ‘It'll grow back, Jo. What does it matter if she wants it short?'

But she looked so beautiful with long hair. ‘She'll regret it if she cuts it short. I know she will.' Eventually the decision had been taken for her when Charlotte had attacked the sides of her hair with the kitchen scissors. She looked like an extra in a sci-fi film. Joanna had cried when the hairdresser had to cut it to chin length to even it out. Charlotte had been ecstatic. How ironic that now her long hair was one of her favourite things about herself. Unable to bear thinking about what the back of her head might look like, Joanna gently combed her fringe until it was smooth, then arranged the front of her hair on either shoulder. ‘There you go, my love. Back to yourself again.'

Watching over her like this reminded Joanna of the nights she'd tried to get her to sleep as a toddler. Lying beside her in bed, reading story after story. At every Happily Ever After she would hold up her index finger at Joanna and say, ‘Just one more, Mummy. Just one more.'

The lunch trolley had just rattled its way down the corridor when there was a soft knock on the door. When she saw who it was, relief washed through Joanna's body like a warm bath. Sally was here.

‘You came.'

‘Of course I came. Where else would I be?' Sally reached out her arms and pulled Joanna into a tight warm embrace.

Everything about Sally – short stylish hair, well-cut navy suit, creaseless pale-pink shirt, Jo Malone Blackberry and Bay perfume – emphasised her efficient, confident ease with the world. Just for a few seconds, Joanna's shoulders dropped and she let herself breathe. With Sally holding her up, everything she'd been pushing down since yesterday bubbled to the surface and she released heaving, painful sobs into her dear friend's shoulder.

Sally stayed strong, held her tight, waited for the storm to pass. When the tears subsided, she stayed there, still. From inside Sally's embrace, Joanna's voice was muffled. ‘I'm so glad you're here.'

With a final squeeze, Sally released her and turned to Charlotte. The shock on her face showed how unprepared she must've been by Joanna's brief text message. ‘Has she still not woken up?'

Those words transported Joanna to the many mornings when a teenage Charlotte would still be in bed near lunchtime. They didn't correspond at all to the reality of the situation. ‘The doctor said that the next couple of days will be critical. If she's going to regain consciousness?—'

‘If?' Sally's head snapped around towards her. ‘Of course she's going to regain consciousness. This is Charlotte we're talking about. When have you ever known her to miss out on anything that's going on?'

Joanna smiled. It was true. Even as a little baby, Charlotte would want to go everywhere and do everything. ‘Yes, you're right. When she regains consciousness.'

Sally pulled a chair close to the bed where she reached out for Charlotte's hand. ‘Hello, sweetheart. It's Auntie Sally. I've come for a visit. And there you are sleeping through it. We need you to wake up now, love. Me and your mum. We need you to wake up and tell us who did this to you so that we can do something about it.'

Joanna swallowed. She was pretty sure she knew who'd done this but she didn't want to bring that up now. Who knew what Charlotte could hear? ‘Listen to your Auntie Sally, Charlotte. You know how bossy she gets if you don't.'

She looked at her best friend, checking that – after their last conversation – that joke had landed okay. Sally kept hold of Charlotte's hand as she looked to Joanna. ‘Have they said anything else?'

There was something in her tone that made Joanna suspicious. Did she know? ‘The doctor told me that she's pregnant. Twenty-eight weeks.'

Sally's face didn't change. ‘I see.'

Why wasn't she as shocked as Joanna? There was only one explanation, but she couldn't believe it. ‘You knew?'

Sally shook her head. ‘No. Not for sure. She didn't say anything. I just had a feeling. That last time I met her for lunch, about six weeks ago, there was something about her. And she didn't want a drink. Said she had a hangover from the night before. But she always has a glass of champagne when we meet for lunch, it's tradition.'

Sally had always taken her godmother duties seriously, taking Charlotte out for ice cream as a child and a glass of wine as an adult, for regular ‘dates' as they used to call it. Though Joanna loved their relationship, she'd often been a tiny bit jealous. ‘Did you not think to say something?'

Sally had the decency to look a little sheepish. ‘I didn't know for sure and it wasn't my news to tell if she was. I did try and get you to talk to her. On Saturday. The last time we spoke.'

The word spoke hung in the air between them. Yelled might have been more accurate. Joanna felt wretched as she remembered her words. ‘Sally, I'm so sorry I…'

But Sally shook her head and reached out for Joanna's hand with the one that wasn't holding Charlotte's. ‘There's no need for that. I totally overreacted. I've got some…stuff going on. I'll tell you about it later. Not now. Let's focus on getting Charlotte better. You and I are fine. We'll always be fine.'

A fountain of emotion threatened to overwhelm Joanna again. She tried to head it off at the pass. ‘Who's looking after Harry?'

Harry was Sally's son. The same age as Charlotte, he'd been diagnosed with autism when he was four. He lived at home with Sally and Graham, but it was getting more and more difficult to manage his needs. ‘Graham's not working today, so I've left them to have a boys' day. If he has to, he can go into work late tomorrow after he's dropped Harry at his day club so that I can stay with you.'

Her friend's love was so fierce it almost hurt. She didn't deserve this after the way she'd spoken to her. Tears filled Joanna's eyes. ‘Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.'

‘Don't be silly. Of course I'm here. You and this girl are my family.' Sally wasn't given to tears – Steve used to call her No-Stuff-And-Nonsense-Sally – but Joanna could tell her throat was thick with feeling as she spoke.

Joanna was so lucky to have her. Without Sally at the other end of a phone, she wouldn't have got through the last year. And just think how she'd repaid her the last time they spoke. Her eyes welled up again and she brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘How was your drive here? Do you want me to hunt you down a coffee or something?'

Sally lived about ninety minutes away and normally didn't function for more than an hour without caffeine, but she shook her head. ‘No. I'm fine. Do you want me to go home and get you anything? Or shall I stay here while you go home and take a shower?'

She didn't want to leave Charlotte's side, but really needed to wash her hair and clean her teeth. ‘I definitely need to do something. Look at the state of me. I had to talk to the doctor looking like this. And the police. I don't know what they thought of me.'

Sally shook her head. ‘You need to stop worrying what people think of you.'

Like godmother, like goddaughter. Hadn't Charlotte said the exact same thing? During one of the many rows they'd had about Freddie over the last year. ‘You don't like him because you've written him off as arrogant because his family have money and he went to a posh school.'

She was right, but that wasn't the reason she didn't want him in her daughter's life. ‘It's not that, Charlotte. It's about him not being right for you. Not being good enough for you.'

‘Good enough? Who decides who's good and who's not? Freddie is one of the kindest, most thoughtful and caring men I've ever met. Isn't that good enough?'

She didn't want to hurt Charlotte, but she had to make her see the truth. How else could she protect her from having her heart trampled on all over again? ‘How thoughtful and caring was he when you broke up? And what about his family? The way his mother was with you that day? What does she think about the two of you being together? How does she treat you now?'

Charlotte was sharp: she'd known exactly what Joanna was getting at. As if she were the parent, she'd shaken her head like Sally had just done. ‘Do you know what, Mum? You'd be a lot happier if you stopped worrying what everyone else thinks.'

And then they'd had the argument about the bruises and she'd left. And Joanna had let her. If only she'd known that it would be the last time she'd see her before this happened. It was all such a terrible mess. She couldn't lose her daughter. Charlotte was all she had in the world. Just the thought of that took her straight back to the last time she was in here. The day when her world imploded.