True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (37 page)

‘What for?’

‘This.’

‘Don’t be silly.  If anyone’s got to be sorry, it’s me.’

He shakes his head, grits his teeth.

‘There’s a rule in here.’  He pauses, breathing a little more quickly.  ‘Patients get their own way.’  Another pause.  He clamps his lips together.  ‘I’m the one who’s sorry … and that’s that.’  He closes his eyes, biting back a grimace.

‘You
are
in pain.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘It’s just the leg.’

‘Then I’ll get a doctor.’  I press the call button.

‘Wait.’  He tries to move his arm, and flinches.  ‘I need to tell you something.’

He doesn’t get a chance.  Within seconds, a nurse appears, frowns at a monitor, informs Dan that his blood pressure’s on the rise and summons a doctor.  A decision comes quickly: an increase in pain relief and sedation.  He won’t make sense for a while.

‘No, wait,’ he complains.

But it’s too late.  Drips are adjusted.  His eyelids grow leaden.

‘Love you.’  The words come out slurred.  ‘Always.’  He struggles to stay with me.  ‘What you said ...’

‘About what?’  I have no idea what he’s going on about now, and I get no chance for clarification.

‘I heard …’

He smiles dreamily.  Drifting away into oblivion, his breathing settles back into a deep and steady rhythm.  Within seconds, he’s fast asleep.

***

After spending the best part of an hour with Dan, I decide that it’s time to move.  Leaving him with a kiss on the cheek, I make my way back to the waiting room and find Beefy pacing the corridor outside.  He holds out an arm, stopping me in my tracks.

‘Give him a minute,’ he grumbles.  ‘He’s on the phone.’

I glance through into the room.  Clive’s standing by the window, his back to the door, his mobile clapped to his ear.  He turns, mouth open, eyes serious, and focuses on me.

‘I’ll do it,’ he says emphatically.  ‘I’ve got to go.’

Ending the call, he stares at the mobile for a few seconds.  Something’s obviously riled him.

‘Are you alright?’ I ask.

‘Yeah.’  Roused from his trance, he looks up.  ‘Work.  Problems with work.  How’s Dan?’

‘He woke up.  He was fine.  And then they knocked him out again.  His leg was hurting.  They said he won’t be waking up again, not today.  Do you want to go in?’

He shakes his head.

‘No point.’  He gazes at the phone again, deep in thought.  ‘I’d better take you home.’

‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, fiddling with the hem of the skimpy, flowery dress I’ve put on especially for Dan.

‘Fine.’  Clive keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

But it’s not, and I know it.  Taking a peek at his face, I wonder why on Earth he’s so preoccupied.  In spite of the fact that his best friend’s cheated death, he’s slumped into a mood.  In fact, since yesterday’s visit, he’s hardly spoken a word to me, barely made eye contact.  And this morning, the bleak atmosphere seems to be catching.  Sitting in the back of the BMW and gazing out of the window, Beefy’s done nothing but chew at his thick lips ever since we left Lambeth.

Unease prickles at my flesh as the car rolls into the hospital car park.  In silence, we get out, scurry through the rain, enter the main building and wind our way through the network of corridors.  Arriving at intensive care, we’re informed that Dan’s already been moved.  He’s now in the High Dependency Unit, whatever that is.  Finally making it to the right ward, Clive leads me through a set of doors and, leaving the noise of a busy hospital behind, we’re greeted by a quiet calm.  We come to a halt in front of a desk, and a male nurse engrossed in a computer screen.  At last, he looks up, questioning.

‘We’re here to see Dan Foster,’ Clive announces.

A smile appears on the nurse’s face.

‘Are you Mr Watson?’

‘Yes.’

‘Brilliant.  He wants to see you first.’

‘What?’  The word escapes from my throat before I can grab it.  He wants to see Clive before me?  It just doesn’t make sense.

‘He says it’s urgent,’ the nurse explains.  ‘He’s a lot more alert this morning, but a little agitated.’  He turns to me.  ‘And you must be Maya.’

I nod, mutely.

‘There’s a waiting room just here.’  Rising from his seat, he skirts the edge of the desk and waves towards an open door.

‘But why can’t I see him?’

I get no answer.  Instead, vaguely aware that I’m being side-lined, I’m gently urged towards the room.

‘He’s pretty insistent.  He wants to see Mr Watson first … on his own.  You’ll be fine in here.  Shall I get you a cup of tea?’

A hand comes to my shoulder, encouraging me down onto a chair, and I shake my head.  I’m already drinking in a potent cocktail of panic and confusion.  The last thing I need is a ruddy cup of tea.

I catch sight of Clive’s face in the doorway.

‘What’s going on?’ I demand.

He frowns, shakes his head.

‘I don’t know.  Just wait there.  I won’t be long.’

‘Third door on the right,’ the nurse informs him.

As soon as Clive disappears, I pull my mobile out of my handbag and check the time.  Just after ten.  In the absence of anything else to do, I gaze out of the window, over a clutter of hospital buildings that seem to have been thrown together at random, and then up at the sky, a thick slab of cloud.  I stare at the empty chair in front of me, survey the empty room, and check my mobile again.  Twenty past.  What the hell can they be talking about?  Lost in a world of uncertainty, I muddle through the possibilities, but there aren’t many: either Dan’s checking up on the security situation, or he’s remembered something.  And if he has … I just don’t want to think about it.

I check the time again.  Ten forty-three.  I’m about to join them when I hear the sound of Clive’s voice in the corridor, a grunted reply from Beefy.  My heart falters as Clive appears in the doorway.

‘Can I go in now?’

He stares at me, enters the room … and shakes his head.

As if a fist grabs at my insides, a clenching sensation takes hold in the pit of my stomach.  ‘Why not?’

‘Let’s go for a walk.’

‘I don’t want to go for a walk.  I want to know why I can’t go in.’

His eyebrows furrow.  Taking a seat next to me, he leans forwards and clasps his hands.

‘What’s wrong?’

He doesn’t reply.

‘Clive?’

He swallows a few times, raises his head.  ‘There’s no easy way to say this.’  Drifting back into silence, he gazes at the floor.

Beefy’s appeared in the doorway now.  His sharp eyes flash, watching me closely, and somewhere deep inside, the fist tightens.

‘Just say it, Clive,’ I prompt him.  ‘Whatever it is, just say it.’

He sits up, turns to face me, and finally delivers the news.

‘He’s remembered.’

It’s a simple enough statement, easy to process, but nevertheless my brain refuses to take it in.  I open my mouth, blink a few times.

‘The row you had,’ he goes on, his voice catching slightly.  ‘What you did.’  He rubs a hand across his chin.  ‘Layla.  He’s remembered it all.’

‘And?’

He pauses.

‘He doesn’t want to see you.’

My heart stops, and suddenly the world recedes.

‘No.’  I shake my head.  ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

‘Maya …’

‘This is a joke, right?’

‘Why would I joke about something like this?’

He stares at me, ramming home his point with hardened eyes.

‘Okay,’ I push warily.  ‘So he’s mad at me.  He doesn’t want to see me because he’s mad at me.  But it won’t last.  He’ll calm down.  It’s just for now … and then he’ll calm down.’

‘No,’ Clive cuts in, laying a hand over mine.

‘Then it’s the drugs.  He’s not thinking straight.’

‘It’s not the drugs.  He’s clear-headed.’

‘So …’  I’ve run out of excuses and there’s only one remaining option.  ‘He’s breaking up with me?’

He takes in a deep breath and nods.  ‘Yes.’

And either Clive’s misheard or misunderstood, or he’s completely lost it, because now he’s making absolutely no sense at all.  He might as well be telling me that the sky’s green and grass is blue.

‘Because of that?’

He nods again.

‘Just that?’

He says nothing.

‘It’s over?’

No answer.

I blink again.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’  There’s a smile on my face now, and I have no idea how it got there.  All I know is the world’s gone mad, and if the accountant side-kick thinks I’m about to give up on Dan, he’s got another think coming.  I’ll never give up.  ‘I need to speak to him.’

I spring to my feet, but I’m not quick enough.  Clive’s already standing too.  Grabbing my arm, he pulls me back.

‘You can’t.’

And then I spot Beefy: flexing his muscles, totally ready to do his job.

‘I’ve already told Beefy not to let you in.’

‘No,’ I breathe, salt water stinging at the corners of my eyes.  ‘He wouldn’t stop me.  Beefy, you wouldn’t stop me, would you?’

Without a word, he stands his ground, his expression rock-like.

Clive squeezes my arm.

‘I know it’s a shock, but you’ve just got to accept it.  You’ve got to go.  When Dan makes a decision, that’s it’

Oh really?  We’ll see about that.  I’m not prepared to leave without a fight and even if I can’t talk him round, the very least I can do is give him a piece of my mind.  And I don’t care if he
is
laid up in a hospital bed.  Through tear-blurred vision, I glance between the two men, wondering if I can dodge them and make a run for it, deciding that if I’m fast enough, I’ll be able to reach Dan’s room before they can stop me.

‘I can talk to him,’ I mutter, buying a little time to weigh up my odds.  ‘It’ll be fine.  I’ll talk to him.  He knows I’m sorry.  He’ll see sense.  I can make him see sense.’

‘No,’ Clive insists.  ‘He’s not fit enough.’

‘Fit enough?’ I spit.  The fury’s on the rise now and I’d better keep it under control.  ‘If he’s fit enough to dump me, then he’s fit enough to do it to my face.’

Clive shakes his head.  ‘He doesn’t want you in there.’

‘Why not?  Isn’t he man enough?’

‘This goes deeper than you know, than either of us know.’

The time for stalling is over.  I’m about to make my move.  Steadying myself, I pull my arm out of Clive’s grip.

‘I’d better go then.’

He takes in a breath of relief.

‘I’ll take you back to Camden.’

‘Don’t bother.  I’ll find my own way.’

‘Maya, be sensible.’

‘Sensible?’ I half-laugh, half-sob.  ‘Nobody else around here’s being sensible.  Why should I bother?’  I pick up my handbag.  ‘I’ve had enough.  And you can tell him that from me.  I’ve had enough of his secrets and his mysteries and his shit.  I’m out of here.’

I glare at Clive, waiting for him to move to one side, and then I glare at Beefy.  Still blocking the doorway, he refuses to budge.

‘It’s alright,’ I inform him.  ‘You can chill your beans.  I’m leaving.’

Slowly, hesitantly, the beef monster steps back.  And I step forwards.  Spotting my moment, I drop the handbag, spilling its contents across the floor.  Faltering for a split second, Beefy stoops to gather up the mess, and I’m gone.  Hurtling at top speed down the corridor, I head straight for the third door on the right.

‘Maya!  No!’

Anxious calls follow me, but I dismiss them.  Pushing open the door, I stumble into Dan’s room and come to a standstill.  Propped up on pillows, he seems pretty much the same as yesterday, all the tubes and monitors still in place, and suddenly I’m reminded that less than a week ago, this man was at death’s door.

He turns his head and frowns.

‘I couldn’t stop her,’ Clive apologises from the doorway.

He closes his eyes, turns away.

‘Maya,’ Clive pleads.  ‘I told you, he’s not up to it.  You need to go.’

I feel a hand on my arm and shake it off.

‘I’m not leaving.’  I hesitate, watching Dan, noting the fact that he’s beginning to breathe a little faster.  If the logical half of my brain was in control, I’d be backing off right now.  But the logical half has taken a hike.  ‘If you think I’m just walking away, then you’re very much mistaken.’

‘It’s over,’ he mutters.

‘Is it?’  I march forwards, lean over him and place my hands on the pillow, one to either side of his head.  I’m the one in control now and I’m going to make the most of it.

‘Just go.’

‘No,’ I reply quietly.  ‘Don’t you remember what I said in Bermuda?  I’m through with running away and hiding.  I’m through with denial and avoiding the sodding issues.’

‘Maya …’

‘So, anything you’ve got to say, you can say it to my face.  And while we’re at it, you’re an idiot.  Do you know that?  You’re the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met in my life.  Either that or the biggest liar, or both.’  I take in a breath, knowing I should really put a stop to the ranting, but I can’t.  My mouth seems to have a life of its own.  ‘Because all that stuff you said – about loving me, about me being the one, about this being for keeps – it was all lies.’

He looks up at me, and I’m halted in my tracks.  There’s a sheen to his eyes and beneath it, a shadow of desperation.

‘None of it was lies,’ he whispers.

And I’m flummoxed.

‘Then why this?’ I demand, straightening up.  ‘All I did was contact your sister.  And now you want to break up with me?  After everything you said, you’re going to throw it all away because …’

‘No,’ he rasps, silencing me mid-flow.  He’s shaking now, visibly shaking.

‘Dan,’ Clive interrupts.  ‘This isn’t what we agreed.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what we agreed.’  He grimaces.  ‘I can’t do it.  Sit down, Maya.’

Suddenly floundering in confusion, I glance at Clive, watching as a scowl gives way to anxiety.

‘I said … sit down,’ Dan repeats.

I falter for a moment.  And then, feeling distinctly nervous under his gaze, I draw up a chair and sit by his side.

‘Dan,’ Clive complains.  ‘You’re in pain.  I should get a doctor.’

‘Fuck the pain,’ he answers quickly.  ‘And don’t let them near me until I’m done.’  He winces, taking a few unsteady breaths before he wills his body back under control.  ‘We haven’t got long,’ he goes on, talking to me now.  ‘The police are on their way, so just keep quiet and listen.’

‘To more lies?’

‘Do me a fucking favour.’  He winces again, shifts slightly and gathers his senses.  ‘I knew what you’d done.  As soon as I woke up, I remembered.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes.  But I pretended to forget.  It was a lot easier that way.’

‘Then why this?’

Clearly exhausted, he turns to Clive for help.  ‘You tell her.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m fucking sure.’  He closes his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment at the foot of the bed, Clive looks at the door.

‘This wasn’t an accident,’ he begins.

‘What?’

‘Don’t interrupt,’ he warns me sternly.  ‘Like he said, we haven’t got long.  His brakes had been tampered with.  That’s why Dan couldn’t stop the bike.  That’s what he remembered this morning.  He wanted to tell me … but I already knew.  I took a call from Boyd yesterday, when you were seeing Dan.  He just told me straight out: he’d set it all up.  One of his lackeys got into the garage, slipped in when the doors were open.’