Trish’s teeth ache. ‘I tell myself that at least he’s alive, and safe, warm and fed. That’s a lot more than he could have been sure of before we intervened.’
‘Not enough, though, is it?’ she said, remembering all over again why she had moved away from work with brutalized children. ‘Are you involved with Caro in this business of the girl with the terrifying stepfather?’
‘Yes. And I came tonight because I’d heard she was better, making sense again. But look at her!’
Trish edged closer to Caro, who was still lying with her eyes closed, but talking all the time. Nothing made sense. There was just a jumble of sounds.
‘What’s she saying?’
‘I’ve been here twenty minutes and it’s been a complete mishmash. Sometimes she talks about Kim – the child – sometimes Jess. Sometimes you. One of her colleagues features occasionally; he was in here today, so that may be why. But mostly it’s nonsense. Occasionally there’s a whole sentence. They think she may be able to hear us; then again she may not.’
‘Do they know why she’s so ill?’
His face hardened. ‘No. The bacteria involved have been confirmed as E. coli 0157. But it doesn’t usually have this effect.’
‘Although it can be serious,’ Trish said, remembering the nurse’s warnings, as well as old news reports. ‘People have died from it, haven’t they? Vulnerable people.’
‘That hardly applies to Caro,’ Andrew said. ‘She’s the fittest of the fit and in the gym at least three times a week.’
‘Yes, but stress can go for the immune system, and this case seemed to be stressing her more than usual.’
‘She’s not the only one.’ He rubbed both hands over his smooth face, and stopped with them steepled against the end of his nose. He looked at Trish over the top. ‘We’ve only got two weeks left. If we don’t get any evidence, Kim is going to have to go back to her stepfather. Caro was the driving force. Without her, I don’t know what we’re going to do. Even the psychiatrist has admitted defeat. That’s why I came this evening. I mean, I’d
have come anyway to see Caro, but we need her firing on all cylinders. And look at her. There’s no way she can help now.’
A nurse appeared behind him, leading an elderly woman on a Zimmer frame, and urging her on with a stream of gentle encouragement. The woman’s skin was almost transparent, and white wisps of hair kept blowing in her foggy eyes. Her fingers were gnarled with arthritis and the skin discoloured with pale-brown spots.
She’s the kind of patient who should be at risk of food poisoning, Trish thought, not a tough police officer in her thirties. She looked back at Andrew, who’d let his arms drop to his sides again.
‘So the child still won’t talk?’ she said, remembering everything Caro had told her.
‘That’s right. There were signs Caro was beginning to get through to her during their last interview. Now we’re stuck.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Trish said. There wasn’t anything else to say.
Andrew must have recognized that for he asked about her work. She gave him a quick sketch of the case against Furbishers.
‘I hope you win,’ he said politely. ‘Are you still living in Southwark?’
‘Yes. I love the flat too much to move. What about you?’
‘I have moved. I’m in Muswell Hill now. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.’
Trish looked at Caro’s twitching face. It seemed all wrong to be making this sort of trivial conversation while she was so ill. Telling Andrew Stane she had to go, Trish hurried out of the ward. At the nurses’ station, she stopped and scribbled a note to be given to Caro when she was well enough to read it.
‘I’ll see she gets it,’ said the young Filipina nurse who took the envelope.
‘She is going to get better, isn’t she?’
‘We hope so.’
With that cold comfort, Trish went back to her flat to spend what was left of the evening picking at a bowl of cottage cheese and trying not
‘Not enough, though, is it?’ she said, remembering all over again why she had moved away from work with brutalized children. ‘Are you involved with Caro in this business of the girl with the terrifying stepfather?’
‘Yes. And I came tonight because I’d heard she was better, making sense again. But look at her!’
Trish edged closer to Caro, who was still lying with her eyes closed, but talking all the time. Nothing made sense. There was just a jumble of sounds.
‘What’s she saying?’
‘I’ve been here twenty minutes and it’s been a complete mishmash. Sometimes she talks about Kim – the child – sometimes Jess. Sometimes you. One of her colleagues features occasionally; he was in here today, so that may be why. But mostly it’s nonsense. Occasionally there’s a whole sentence. They think she may be able to hear us; then again she may not.’
‘Do they know why she’s so ill?’
His face hardened. ‘No. The bacteria involved have been confirmed as E. coli 0157. But it doesn’t usually have this effect.’
‘Although it can be serious,’ Trish said, remembering the nurse’s warnings, as well as old news reports. ‘People have died from it, haven’t they? Vulnerable people.’
‘That hardly applies to Caro,’ Andrew said. ‘She’s the fittest of the fit and in the gym at least three times a week.’
‘Yes, but stress can go for the immune system, and this case seemed to be stressing her more than usual.’
‘She’s not the only one.’ He rubbed both hands over his smooth face, and stopped with them steepled against the end of his nose. He looked at Trish over the top. ‘We’ve only got two weeks left. If we don’t get any evidence, Kim is going to have to go back to her stepfather. Caro was the driving force. Without her, I don’t know what we’re going to do. Even the psychiatrist has admitted defeat. That’s why I came this evening. I mean, I’d
have come anyway to see Caro, but we need her firing on all cylinders. And look at her. There’s no way she can help now.’
A nurse appeared behind him, leading an elderly woman on a Zimmer frame, and urging her on with a stream of gentle encouragement. The woman’s skin was almost transparent, and white wisps of hair kept blowing in her foggy eyes. Her fingers were gnarled with arthritis and the skin discoloured with pale-brown spots.
She’s the kind of patient who should be at risk of food poisoning, Trish thought, not a tough police officer in her thirties. She looked back at Andrew, who’d let his arms drop to his sides again.
‘So the child still won’t talk?’ she said, remembering everything Caro had told her.
‘That’s right. There were signs Caro was beginning to get through to her during their last interview. Now we’re stuck.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Trish said. There wasn’t anything else to say.
Andrew must have recognized that for he asked about her work. She gave him a quick sketch of the case against Furbishers.
‘I hope you win,’ he said politely. ‘Are you still living in Southwark?’
‘Yes. I love the flat too much to move. What about you?’
‘I have moved. I’m in Muswell Hill now. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.’
Trish looked at Caro’s twitching face. It seemed all wrong to be making this sort of trivial conversation while she was so ill. Telling Andrew Stane she had to go, Trish hurried out of the ward. At the nurses’ station, she stopped and scribbled a note to be given to Caro when she was well enough to read it.
‘I’ll see she gets it,’ said the young Filipina nurse who took the envelope.
‘She is going to get better, isn’t she?’
‘We hope so.’
With that cold comfort, Trish went back to her flat to spend what was left of the evening picking at a bowl of cottage cheese and trying not
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