Tapestry by Fiona McIntosh Page B

situations because he didn’t apologise again, didn’t clear his throat or fiddle with his flame-coloured tie, its pattern making Jane feel dizzy. Instead he marched on, laying out the facts.
    ‘It was what we call a king hit, delivered by someone who, I suspect, knew exactly what he was doing.’
    ‘But that couldn’t kill him, surely?’ Jane’s father said.
    Harris looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, it could, but in fact it didn’t in this case. What it did do was knock Will unconscious. The real damage was inflicted first when his head hit a pillarand then when it slammed into the hard tiles. It was a triple whammy, you could say.’
    ‘Will’s a fifth dan in karate,’ she offered, trying not to sound angry, but knowing she did anyway. It was like trying to argue with a traffic inspector who’d already written out the parking ticket. Harris looked just as implacable as ever. ‘I just don’t understand.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s breathing, right?’
    Harris gave a small shrug. ‘Yes, that’s because we’re keeping him alive, Jane. But I think a decision will have to be made when —’
    ‘No!’ She looked around at her parents. ‘Absolutely no way! Will’s going to wake up.’
    ‘I doubt it, Jane, not in the short term,’ Harris said in such a tender voice she wanted to beat her fists against him. ‘My experience tells me that even if by some miracle he did wake, the damage might be unbearable for you, for his parents and no doubt for Will himself. You told me how active he is. Would you want Will to exist in a vegetative state? Because that’s what the future could hold, whether he breathes for himself or we keep him breathing.’
    Out of control , a voice whispered in her mind. Although she’d promised herself no more crying, because it made her feel weak when she most needed to feel strong, a treacherous pair of tears leaked down her cheeks at his words. She hurriedly wiped them away.
    She found her grit. ‘You are to keep Will breathing.’ She stood, shaking off her parents’ hands as they immediately reached out in concern. ‘I want some air,’ she pleaded, and opened the door before anyone could protest.
    Behind her she heard Harris muttering placatory words to her parents, and then she was gone, hurrying along corridors, down stairways, through various doors, desperate to drag cold air into her lungs to shock herself out of whatever dulling stupor was telling her Will was going to be just fine.
    She burst out into the hospital gardens and sucked in deep, chilling breaths as she leaned a hand against the wall. Her engagement ring sparkled arrogantly. Designed by Will, of course — an academic who was creative and spiritual, a scientist who wanted to believe in the mystical … in magic! She shook her head. Despite her shock on that fateful morning beneath Eros, she’d loved his ring on sight — just as she had fallen for him on first sight, with his alarmed apology and loopy grin — and she remembered now that same crooked, delighted smile as he’d pushed the ring onto her finger after she had accepted his proposal so lightly and without truly meaning it.
    Now they were telling her he was as good as dead. How ridiculous. She would have laughed out loud if it hadn’t been so terrifyingly real. All her uncertainty had fled. She could love him; she would learn how. The years would do it. He made her laugh, he made her cry out when he touched her, he made her feel safe. They’d been meant to meet, meant to be together. If they could only be together, she would get as used to Will as a comfy old pair of jeans that hugged you close, but never constricted. It was her failing, not his, that she hadn’t told him she loved him with all of her heart. Her hesitation was only habit, she was sure of it. Everyone knew she was not usually one to fully commit to anything. But she was certain now. She did want to marry him. She did want them to be together, forever, tripping the ley lines