Swimming Pool Sunday (14 page)

‘Katie didn’t hit her head because the board was slippery,’ said Barnaby robustly. ‘She just didn’t know how to do a back dive properly.’

‘How do you know that?’ countered Cassian. ‘How do you know her foot didn’t skid as she took off?’

There was silence. Barnaby looked down,
discomfited. With an unpleasant pang, Louise again remembered Ursula saying something to her about the children; warning her that they seemed overexcited. A sickening sensation of guilt began to rise up inside her, but she firmly quelled it.

‘I think Cassian’s right,’ she said quickly to Barnaby. ‘We owe it to Katie to go to court.’

‘You don’t know how long she’ll be in treatment,’ said Cassian. ‘She might need special care for years. Nurses don’t come cheap, you know. And then, what if she can’t look after herself when she’s older? You’ll want to set her up with some money.’

‘She’s going to be fine,’ said Barnaby shakily. ‘You’ll see.’

‘Barnaby!’ exclaimed Louise in frustration. ‘Weren’t you listening in there? You can’t just close your ears and pretend nothing’s wrong.’

‘You’re letting Katie down, Barnaby,’ stated Cassian. ‘She needs help and support and money, not a parent who won’t face up to the facts.’

‘Leave me alone!’ Barnaby suddenly lashed out. ‘I’m going in to see her.’ And he disappeared down the corridor.

Cassian raised his eyebrows at Louise, who looked away uncomfortably. She felt torn between Cassian’s cool reasoning and Barnaby’s honest emotional reaction. Again, the vision of Ursula’s anxious face rose up in her mind, and Hugh, stalwart Hugh, who had been the first to offer to take Barnaby to the hospital. Were they really thinking of taking those decent people to court? No, it couldn’t be. But then … shouldn’t they be doing everything they could for their own daughter, no matter whom it hurt? Didn’t they owe more to Katie than to Hugh and Ursula?

For a minute or two, Louise stared down at the pastel corridor floor, while the arguments swung backwards and forwards in her mind. The more she thought, the
less clear the answer seemed. Eventually she looked up at Cassian, and hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, but Barnaby’s voice was suddenly behind her. He sounded gruff and upset.

‘I couldn’t stay. Some people are in there, moving Katie’s arms and legs around, as if she was a doll.’

‘Who are?’ Louise turned round. Barnaby looked weary and defeated. He shrugged.

‘Doctors, or something.’

‘Physiotherapists,’ said Louise, suddenly remembering. They’re exercising her limbs to keep some tone in the muscles, and to make sure she doesn’t get sore.’ She looked at Barnaby. ‘It’s quite normal, apparently.’

‘She looked like a doll,’ repeated Barnaby. He looked at Louise, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. ‘She’s in a bad way, Lou.’

‘I know,’ said Louise. She put her hand gently on Barnaby’s. But he shrugged it off, blinked hard several times, then abruptly turned and walked off down the corridor.

With every day that passed, Barnaby’s hopes diminished, and his secret conviction – that Katie would soon wake up and be back to her bright normal self – seemed a little less likely. But if she wasn’t going to be back to her normal self, what was she going to be? His mind could not drag itself away from the darkest, most frightening conclusions; he could not stop himself conjuring up pictures of his daughter, a battered, damaged cripple. Confined to a wheelchair, maybe; unable to talk; unable to lead any kind of normal life. How would she cope? How would any of them cope?

He couldn’t persuade his thoughts into any kind of middle ground; couldn’t seem to attain the sort of positive but realistic outlook that Louise had adopted. He constantly swung from foolish desperate optimism to bleak pessimism and back again to foolish optimism. And underneath it all burned an angry, mortifying, unspecified guilt, which did not abate with time but got stronger.

And so he threw himself into hard outdoor work with no room for thought – tackling all the physical tasks which needed doing on the estate; leaving the paperwork on his desk to mount up.

On the following Tuesday, the ninth day of Katie’s coma, he spent the morning checking walls on the estate, and then popped into a nearby pub for lunch. Eileen, the owner’s wife, was behind the bar, and clucked sympathetically when she saw Barnaby.

‘How’s your little girl?’ she said, handing him a pint. ‘Has she woken up yet?’

Barnaby shook his head and looked around for somewhere to go and sit. He didn’t feel like talking about Katie. But the pub was filling up, and all the tables were taken.

‘How long is it now?’ asked Eileen.

‘Nine days,’ said Barnaby. He felt a deep gloom falling over him. Eileen clucked again.

‘I was watching a programme about people in comas the other night,’ she said, leaning forward on the bar and talking straight into Barnaby’s left ear. ‘This one poor chap was out for two whole years. Can you believe it? Then he woke up, right as rain.’

‘Really?’ muttered Barnaby.

‘Another one was only in a coma for three hours, but when he woke up he’d lost all his memory. Didn’t recognize his own wife!’

Eileen looked at Barnaby for a reaction, and he hurriedly took another slug of beer. He would drink up and then go. Forget about lunch.

‘But they cured him at the institute,’ continued Eileen, opening a packet of crisps and offering it to Barnaby. ‘It was marvellous, really.’ Barnaby looked up.

‘Institute?’ he said. ‘What institute?’

‘The institute in the documentary,’ said Eileen patiently. ‘The one in America. It was ever so interesting.’ She examined her long magenta nails. ‘I love that kind of thing,’ she added. ‘Medical programmes. I’m not squeamish or anything. Graham thinks I’m crazy.’

‘Can you remember what it was called?’ said Barnaby, trying not to sound too urgent. ‘The institute?’ Eileen screwed up her face.

‘I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘It was a really famous place, though. I mean, apparently people go there from
all over the world. There was this poor lad from Saudi Arabia, couldn’t understand a word anyone said to him. I mean, it doesn’t really help, does it?’ She broke off into peals of laughter.

Barnaby stared at her. Thoughts were buzzing round his head. But before he could say anything, the mobile phone in his pocket rang.

‘Barnaby? It’s Louise.’ He could hardly hear her over the pub noise.

‘Hang on a moment,’ he said, ‘I’ll go outside.’

In the car park he blinked a few times in the bright light.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s Katie.’ Louise’s voice was trembling slightly and Barnaby felt his heart give a terrified swoop. He had been waiting so long to hear some news; had thought he was desperate for something to happen, but now he felt suddenly frightened; unwilling to leave his haven of ignorance.

‘What …’ He could hardly speak.

‘She woke up this morning.’

A flash of relief exploded in Barnaby’s mind.

‘That’s fantastic!’ he shouted. ‘That’s wonderful news! I’ll come straight away. Is she OK? Has she said anything?’

‘No, she hasn’t,’ said Louise curtly. ‘She only regained consciousness for about thirty seconds.’

‘What?’

‘Apparently that’s normal. It could be ages before she wakes up properly.’

‘Oh,’ said Barnaby. He felt suddenly deflated. ‘Well, I suppose that’s good.’

‘Of course it’s good!’ Louise’s voice came furiously down the line. ‘For God’s sake, Barnaby, what did you expect? That she would just sit up and smile and say, “Where’s Daddy”?’

‘No,’ said Barnaby at once, ‘of course not.’

‘You’ve got to be realistic.’

‘I am realistic,’ said Barnaby indignantly.

‘You’re not! You’re completely unrealistic! You constantly go from one stupid extreme to the other, and it doesn’t help, Barnaby. It really doesn’t help.’ Louise sounded rattled, almost tearful.

‘OK, then,’ said Barnaby hurriedly. ‘Well, here’s something that might help. I was just talking to Eileen at The Fox and Hounds, and she said there was an institute in America which cures people who have been in comas. She said people go there from all over the world.’

‘And?’ Barnaby ignored the ominous tone in Louise’s voice.

‘And we could send Katie there,’ he said.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Barnaby!’ shrieked Louise. ‘You’re in another world, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not!’ Barnaby shouted. ‘It sounded really good!’ A couple of people walking through the car park looked curiously at him, and he turned away with a scowl.

‘Yes, and I suppose you’d pay for it, would you?’ snapped Louise. ‘I suppose you’d fork out the half a million, or whatever it takes?’ Then she sighed. ‘Barnaby, we don’t even know what’s wrong with Katie yet; if anything. She hasn’t even woken up properly yet. So now is really not the time to start talking about institutes in America, is it?’

Barnaby stared miserably at the ground. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘I’ll see you this evening at the hospital,’ said Louise.

‘OK,’ said Barnaby. ‘Thanks for calling.’

‘Yes, well, I had to, didn’t I?’ said Louise. She sounded suddenly bitter, and Barnaby winced.

When he had put his phone away, he went over to a bench at the edge of the car park and sat down shakily. He felt heavy with guilt, with despair, with indignation. Something was going wrong. He was obviously failing
Louise. Maybe he was failing Katie, too. Maybe he was making everything worse for everybody.

He buried his head in his hands and allowed a little of his buried resentment to surface. What else was he supposed to do? Hide his worries? Not speak to anyone? He’d thought the institute in America sounded like a good idea. He wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.

Again he winced as he remembered Louise’s voice. She sounded hard, full of tension and exhausted. And she made him feel completely useless. ‘I suppose you’d pay for it, would you?’ Her words ran round his brain like busy mice. What if Katie needed money and he couldn’t give it to her? How could he let her down? A picture came into his mind of his helpless little daughter, waking up for a confused, bewildering thirty seconds, wondering where she was, perhaps even wondering who she was; perhaps unable to move; perhaps in dreadful pain. And here he was, sitting uselessly in the sun. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to do something to help. Take some positive action. He had to do
something
…

A sudden surprising thought entered his mind like a slippery fish. Before he could focus on it, it had darted away. Then it returned and lingered for a bit longer, wriggling away when he tried to fix his attention on it, only to dance intriguingly at the corners of his mind.

Was he serious? Could he really be contemplating such a thing? What had happened to him? Where were all his objections? His morals? He tried as hard as he could to conjure up the sensation of indignant outrage which had consumed him only days before, but he couldn’t. Somehow everything had vanished from his mind but Katie. Katie governed his thoughts, his feelings, his convictions. He had to put her first, he simply had to. Whatever it took; whatever it meant for other people.

For a long time he sat completely still, allowing his
fermenting thoughts to settle down into hard serious intention. Then he took a few deep breaths, reached for his mobile phone, and felt in his pocket for the little white card which had been sitting there for several days. He shut his eyes, counted to ten, and dialled the number.

‘Cassian?’ As he spoke the name he felt suddenly self-conscious, and glanced around. Could anyone hear him? And if they could, would they realize what he was doing? For a moment he felt a slight faltering.

‘Barnaby? Is that you?’

‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ Barnaby took a deep breath. For Katie’s sake. ‘I’ve been thinking hard,’ he said, ‘about what you said. About suing Hugh and Ursula. And …’ He swallowed hard. ‘And I think, if there’s any chance it would help Katie, then we should go ahead.’

There was a short silence. Barnaby realized he was clenching the mobile phone so hard, it was digging into his flesh. What was the bastard going to say? Was he going to make him feel stupid? Had he done the wrong thing yet again?

‘Barnaby, I’m so glad!’ The warm congratulatory tone in Cassian’s voice took Barnaby by surprise. ‘I realize what a tough decision it was to make, but I really think you’ve done the right thing for little Katie. And you know, Barnaby, I’d like to say that on a personal level I have a lot of respect for your thoughtful approach to this whole matter.’ He paused, and Barnaby felt a slight flush come to his cheeks. ‘You didn’t allow yourself to be rushed,’ continued Cassian, ‘you took your time, and in the end you came to a decision which I’m sure you’ll find is the right one. Barnaby, I’m very glad to be working with you.’

‘I just did what I thought was right,’ said Barnaby gruffly.

‘Of course you did,’ said Cassian reassuringly, ‘and I know these things are never easy. But you really are
doing the best thing you possibly can for your daughter.’

There was a pause. Barnaby leaned back and felt a warm sensation of relief pass through him. At last, maybe, he’d got something right.

‘So what happens now?’ he said eventually.

‘If you and Louise just pop into the office this afternoon,’ said Cassian smoothly, ‘then I can introduce you to our personal injury experts, and we can get the whole thing going at once. Say, three o’clock?’

‘This afternoon?’

‘The quicker the better,’ said Cassian. ‘And after that, you won’t have to worry about a thing.’

It was teatime the next day, and everyone was outside, when the doorbell rang at Devenish House. Hugh put his cup down and said, ‘I’ll go.’ Meredith looked severely at Ursula.

‘Have you asked someone to tea without telling us?’ She turned to Alexis. ‘She meets people in the street and asks them to tea, and then forgets all about it! I expect right now the whole village is on the doorstep.’

Ursula began an unconvincing protestation. Alexis simply smiled and bit into a crumbly, buttery biscuit. Meredith looked surreptitiously at him; at the way he leaned back elegantly in his chair; at the way his skin creased up when he smiled, and as she watched, a faint yearning pulled at the pit of her stomach. Alexis had been spending a lot of time with them that week. At first, of course, he had been helping out and generally being supportive in the aftermath of the accident. But now … In spite of herself, she felt a fluttering of hope.