After You Die (20 page)

There were a couple more with other therapists, a partial amputee lifting light weights and a woman with her left arm gone at the shoulder, the side of her face badly scarred, doing resistance tests. All of them pushing on hard, focused but aware of each other, Ferreira saw, feeding on the competition.

It was the right environment for people who wanted that, but if you needed privacy, if you didn’t want your weakness on display, it could be uncomfortably combative, she guessed. And every failure would be magnified by the audience, even a supportive one.

Ray spotted her and made a ‘one sec’ gesture.

He called another therapist to get the young soldier on his feet and walked over to Ferreira with his usual welcoming smile and his hand held out.

‘Alright, stranger. Back for a tune-up?’

She shook his hand, smiling. ‘Without an appointment? I wouldn’t dare.’

‘You’re looking strong, pet.’

‘I feel strong.’

He folded his arms across his chest. He was a big man and the action made him look even more solid. It wasn’t a natural pose, though, he was better trained than that. Always open, always encouraging. He spent half his life with his hands held out to catch you when you stumbled.

‘You know why I’m here?’ Ferreira asked.

‘I’ve an inkling this is a professional visit.’

‘Holly Prentice.’

‘I saw the news. Terrible shame.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘Did it make a difference?’

‘What?’

‘Her not being able to move, like.’ His fists tightened. ‘Could she have got away?’

‘Maybe,’ Ferreira admitted. ‘She could have raised the alarm at least, saved herself.’

He nodded. ‘Best do this in my office.’

It was a small room, painted lavender and surprisingly cluttered for such a particular man; files on the desk and on the chair he cleared for her, children’s drawings taking up most of the wall above his computer, postcards and thank-you notes filling a cork-board propped on top of the filing cabinet.

She should have thanked him properly, she realised. Sent a bottle of something. The relief of being free had overridden her manners, though.

‘So, what can I tell you?’ Ray asked, lowering himself into the chair.

‘Tell me about Holly. How did she get on here?’

‘She was impatient. But that’s common enough.’ He gave her a pointed look and she smiled. ‘Sometimes it’s a good thing, gets you lot down here, keeps you focused.’

‘Sometimes it’s not good, though?’

‘No. Like I told you when you first came, the body can only do so much and it’ll do it at its own pace. With your injuries a bit of impatience never hurt, it just got you fixed quicker. But Holly was never going to be the girl she was before the accident.’

‘Surely she realised that,’ Ferreira said.

‘She was a kid, she didn’t want to hear the truth.’

‘But you had to tell her?’

‘No point promising folk things they’ll never achieve.’ His gaze drifted away across the desk, following the sweep of his hand as it found a pen to grip. ‘She was never going to walk again.’

‘Definitely?’

‘Never. Her spinal cord was completely severed, vertebrae crushed. It wasn’t a clean injury.’

‘But Holly was still adamant she’d recover,’ Ferreira said.

Ray smiled with half his mouth, nodded. ‘Aye, wilful as hell, that one. We made some good progress early on. A sight more than I expected. She got the use of her hands back, started to get a bit more movement in her forearms. And it happened quick.’

‘Which only made her more determined to prove you wrong about walking?’

He turned the pen around between his fingers. ‘Worst thing that can happen sometimes, fast progress. She started on thinking the doctors had her diagnosis wrong, convinced herself they’d mixed up her records with someone else. She was sure she’d walk again. She told me, “One day I’m going to run out of this hospital.”’

‘She might’ve been right,’ Ferreira said. ‘It happens.’

‘What, miracles?’

‘Misdiagnoses.’

Ray looked at the thank-you cards tacked up on the board, the thin skin around his eyes pinching.

‘How long ago did she stop coming for treatment?’

‘Autumn of last year,’ he said. ‘October time. I thought she’d be back but she’d had enough of it.’

‘Are you sure that’s why she stopped?’ Ferreira asked. ‘We’ve been hearing that there might have been some neglect issues with the mother.’

‘Dawn? Never.’ He threw the pen down. ‘She was a good mother. Trust me, I see a lot of parents coming in here, going through the motions, and I can see in their eyes they’re resenting every minute of it.’

‘But not Dawn?’

‘No. She was having a tough time of it but she was always there for Holly. And she wasn’t an easy girl to look after, if you want my honest opinion.’

‘Wilful?’

‘And vocal.’ Ray’s cheeks flushed. ‘Dawn bore the full brunt of it.’

‘Tell me what happened. Exactly.’

‘It was mid-September. Holly cried off an appointment and I called to check up on her, reschedule. Dawn said Holly didn’t want to come but I convinced Dawn to bring her the next week.’ He frowned. ‘They turned up as agreed but Holly wouldn’t do anything. Refused to do any of the excersies, didn’t even want to talk to me. It happens. She’d been putting herself under too much pressure to improve and it wasn’t possible, not to the degree she wanted. She was frustrated and angry, anyone could see that. But she needed to stick with it.’

‘Did you manage to talk her round?’

His shoulders tensed, then sagged, chin dropping onto his chest. ‘No. I tried. She threw an almighty tantrum, screaming and swearing. Laying into Dawn, accusing her of all sorts.’

Ferreira straightened. ‘What did she accuse her of?’

‘She said Dawn wished she was dead so she wouldn’t have to look after her any more.’

‘Was she right about that?’ Ferreira asked. ‘In your opinion.’

‘No way. Not a bit of it.’ Ray rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. ‘Dawn broke down, ran out crying. I went after her.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She was devastated. There wasn’t a word of truth in any of it. She wanted Holly to get better. For herself, yes. A bit. It was a big strain caring for the girl on her own. But she wanted Holly to have a life beyond her bedroom. She knew there’d come a point when she wasn’t there any more and Holly would have to be independent.’

‘Dawn was only thirty-eight.’

‘Time passes quick, Mel. You’re young, but you wait.’

He looked away as the sound of a body hitting the crash mats came through the office door, but he didn’t move, only sighed. Another moment of failure. Another person to pick up and dust off and encourage to try again.

‘What provoked the change of attitude?’ Ferreira asked. ‘Did Dawn tell you?’

‘Yeah, it sounded like something of nothing to me, but Holly had done a couple of days at a new school and it didn’t go well. Kids taking the piss on account of her being in the chair.’ He rubbed his hand over his head. ‘I reckon she’d have been able to put it aside if she was making better progress but she’d hit a wall. Maybe all that was sinking in finally and the school thing was just the last straw.’

The same story they’d heard from Matthew Campbell. Ferreira could imagine the toll it would have taken on Holly, finding herself verbally abused in what should have been a safe, inclusive environment, how she would have felt as if nowhere would ever be welcoming again if a place set up specifically to cater for people like her was so hostile.

‘Was that the last time she came?’

‘No. Bloody hell, Mel, you can’t give up on folks that easy. I gave her a couple of weeks to cool down and we made another appointment.’ His bushy grey brows drew in. ‘Dawn brought her as usual and I thought it was all over and done with. But she woudn’t do anything. She just sat there, wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t acknowledge any of us. Total passive resistance. There’s no dealing with it.’

‘You tried, though?’

‘Course I did. Her mum too. She was begging her. I mean, literally on her knees begging her not to give up. But Holly had made her decision. She was finished with it.’ He shook his head, a bitter look on his face. ‘Dawn was crying when they left.’

Ferreira thought of what Luke Gibson had said, Holly’s sudden withdrawal at the end of last year; no more trips out, no more parties with family friends in the garden. He’d taken it to be a sign of neglect on Dawn’s part, hadn’t credited Holly with the stubbornness to refuse or considered that she might have been so crushingly depressed that leaving her bedroom was no longer the positive experience it had been.

‘Was that the last contact you had with them?’ Ferreira asked.

‘Last time I saw either of them, yup.’

‘But you spoke to Dawn again?’

‘I phoned her up a couple of times. I wanted her to know Holly could come back whenever she was ready.’ He scratched his neck, slow fingers, thoughtful expression. ‘And I was worried about Dawn, she didn’t seem like the toughest woman in the world even when things were going well with Holly. I wanted to check she was coping.’

‘Was she?’

‘She cried a lot. On the phone, I mean. She told me she wasn’t sleeping very well, she kept breaking down over nothing.’

He frowned again. She’d never seen him so downcast before and realised how much of a front he’d put on during her treatement, all of these worries for other people neatly compartmentalised but still deeply felt. It made him good at his job but it also made him vulnerable to suffering the effects of other people’s traumas.

‘It was breaking her heart,’ he said. ‘Holly was a strong girl, Dawn thought she’d be able to deal with her disability, overcome it, like. But instead she crumbled. That’s a hard thing to deal with as a parent, knowing your child would rather die than fight on.’

‘Holly said that?’ Ferreira asked. ‘She said she’d rather be dead?’

‘The last-but-one session, aye. Big no-no, we don’t allow that sort of negativity up here.’

She remembered; all those high fives and fist bumps, the smiles and circles of support for each milestone passed.

‘I gave Dawn some numbers,’ Ray said. ‘Support groups, respite care. I don’t know if she ever used them but she needed help, something.’

Dawn found it, Ferreira thought. Not the kind of help Ray had in mind but those men she hooked up with must have worked for her, provided distraction if nothing else, some brief moments outside herself.

‘Such a waste,’ Ray said quietly. ‘I really thought I could help her.’

Ferreira reached over and squeezed his arm. ‘You did everything you could. If someone doesn’t want help, you can’t force them to take it.’

He nodded but the words sounded hollow and she knew he’d beat himself up about it for weeks to come, maybe longer.

He walked with her as far as the double doors and she thanked him for his help, shook his hand again, held onto it until he finally met her eyes.

‘I should have said this ages ago …’ Ray waved away her words with his free hand. ‘If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be standing here now. I’d be – well – doesn’t matter now, does it?’

‘You beat it, pet. That’s all that matters.’

In the lift back down she turned over what he’d said about Holly and Dawn, her impressions of the pair changing again, their uneasy relationship taking on new dimensions. She wondered how much Warren knew about Holly’s refusal to continue her treatment. If he’d tried to change her mind, use his paternal authority.

More questions to ask him.

Zigic called as she was getting into her car. ‘Need you back at the office. Holly’s nurse is here.’

Siona Croft was solidly built, broad across the shoulders and thick-armed, muscular rather than fat, as if she spent a lot of time in a weights room. Exactly the right physique for lifting infirm patients in and out of the beds and baths they couldn’t afford to upgrade to suit their new conditions. Young, though, no older than twenty-five, with an open and friendly face.

As he waited for Ferreira to go through the usual formalities of identification for the tape and explanation of the situation for Croft’s benefit, Zigic wondered if Dawn had seen her like that – approachable – if she’d confided in her.

‘I can’t believe this,’ Croft said. ‘I was only round there last week.’

She toyed with the scalding-hot tea Zigic had brought her from the vending machine, touching the plastic cup with her fingertips until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

‘You’re Holly’s home-care nurse, is that right?’ Ferreira asked.

‘I was.’ Croft frowned at her. ‘Didn’t they tell you at the office?’

‘What?’

‘Dawn sacked me last week.’

‘Which day?’ Zigic asked.

‘Wednesday.’

If Croft knew how damning that bit of information was she didn’t show it, kept looking steadily back at Zigic across the scarred and scratched table, face on the shocked side of neutral. Nurses were used to presenting blank faces, though; couldn’t show disgust, couldn’t show fear, always had to look unflappable.

‘What reason did she give for letting you go?’

‘She said I turned up for work drunk. I’d had a couple of pints the night before, I might have been a bit worse for wear, but I definitely wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t even hungover.’

‘And how did you feel about that?’

‘I didn’t take it personal. It was my own fault.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve been expecting it since my first shift there, to be honest. She’s got a right reputation, that one.’

‘For what?’

Croft went to sip her tea, stopped. ‘Put it this way, I’d been looking after Holly for a month and that’s the longest any nurse from the company has lasted with her. The woman before me got sacked for using her mobile in the house. The one before that Dawn didn’t like because she talked to Holly about her boyfriend and she said it upset her.’

‘Was Holly easily upset?’ Ferreira asked.

‘No. I mean, she was quite low but even, if that makes sense. I thought she was coping fairly well, considering what had happened to her and all.’

‘Do you know why she stopped going for physio?’ Ferreira asked.

‘I mentioned it to Holly the first time I went there and she said she’d tried it but it didn’t help. She said she had better things to do with her time.’