‘She’ll come back,’ I say.
‘Two weeks since you called her, a whole month since she left,’ Carmen adds ruefully.
‘You think I don’t know the dates?’ I don’t even have the energy to give her my death stare.
‘Wasn’t she supposed to be coming back in a couple of weeks?’
I stare straight ahead. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’m just saying—’
‘I get it, alright?’ I snap. ‘Enough.’
We all fall into an uncomfortable silence.
‘I prefer you without Eric around, you know,’ I say to Carmen. I don’t know why I just said that.
‘What? Why?’ She sits up straighter.
‘You’re less annoying.’
‘Okay, gee, thanks,’ she says sarcastically.
‘It’s true.’ I glance at Jorge. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘I’m not getting involved.’ He holds up his hands, but Carmen glares at him.
‘Don’t give me that shit. Do you agree with him?’ She jabs her finger in my direction. Jorge looks uneasy.
‘I do a bit,’ he admits.
‘Really?’ She sounds surprised. She’s not as pissed off as I thought she’d be.
‘You’re less of a bitch,’ I chip in helpfully.
‘Well, thanks, Leo,’ she says with a wry look.
‘Less irritable. Less irritating . . . Can’t say I blame you. He irritates the hell out of me, too.’
‘Jesus Christ, Leonardo, speak your mind!’ she erupts.
I down the last of my beer.
‘Still up for that dive tomorrow, buddy?’ Jorge asks me.
‘Buddy’ reminds me of Laura, but I keep my cool. ‘Sure, if Timmy’s okay with me crashing.’ Timmy’s the boat captain. He’s the one I cover for during the holidays when he goes to visit his mother on the West Coast.
‘Great. Well, I’m going to hit the sack,’ Jorge tells us.
‘I’m going to grab another beer.’ I get up. ‘You want one?’ I ask Carmen.
‘Yes, please.’
I pass a can to her on my return and she cracks it open, staring into space. Neither of us says anything for a long time, but it’s not awkward. That’s the thing with family, and she’s practically my sister after all these years. So much for me being an orphan. I couldn’t get rid of my freaky little siblings if I tried.
‘Do you really think I should break it off with Eric?’ she asks me out of the blue.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, staring at her directly. ‘Yeah.’
She sighs. ‘Really?’
‘Why not?’
‘What would I do?’ she asks.
‘You could move back here, help out with this guest house, if I ever get around to opening it.’
She smiles a sweet smile, before rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t think Laura would be very happy about that if she does come back.’
‘Give her a break,’ I say. ‘She could do with a friend like you. And you could do with a friend like her,’ I add poignantly. Carmen doesn’t have many friends. I’m sure that’s half her problem.
‘Where am I going to find another man?’
I scoff. ‘You don’t need a man. You’re good. You’ve got Javier . . . And anyway, you would find someone else before long.’
‘You think?’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t look as good as I did back in the day,’ she says, immodestly.
‘You still look pretty good.’
She smiles at me and bites her fingernail. I lean back in my seat and cross one leg over the other knee. Suddenly I realise she’s staring at me with a weird look in her eyes.
‘What’s got into you?’ I ask.
She hesitates before telling me: ‘Sometimes I wonder if I chose the wrong brother.’
Fuck, what’s she saying?
‘Don’t say that,’ I mutter. She’s had too much to drink. She’s starting to remind me of Ashlee.
‘You’re a good person, Leo,’ she says seriously.
I take a long gulp of beer, trying to ignore the tension. ‘I hope Laura still thinks that.’ I want to put a stop to this conversation, whichever way it’s going.
Carmen sighs. ‘I warned her not to hurt you,’ she adds with a trace of bitterness.
‘I don’t know what’s going on with her,’ I admit, downing some more of my drink. ‘But I’ll find out eventually.’
I wake up in the early hours of the morning with an urgent urge to pee. I go downstairs, finding my way along the corridor. There’s an eerie, unnatural light coming from the bathroom. Dread fills me, threatens to immobilise me, but I keep moving, down that corridor, towards that bathroom. Something is wrong – deeply wrong. I put out my hand to push open the door, but my hand looks different. Smaller, younger . . . I see her knees in the bath – white, so white, and then the water, coloured red with blood.
‘Oh, Mom, what have you done . . .’
I go further into the room and stare with horror at her face. But it’s not my mother, it’s Laura. Her eyes – half-closed in the light – shine the most brilliant blue, even in death.
My own blood-curdling scream wakes me up from my nightmare. I bolt up in bed and a cold sweat washes over me. I gasp for breath, hearing footsteps on the stairs. Carmen bursts into my bedroom.
‘What’s wrong?’ she cries.
I raise my hand to keep her at bay, to calm her down. ‘Just a bad dream,’ I manage to spit out, through heaving breaths.
She doesn’t move.
‘Go back to bed,’ I say.
‘No. Are you okay? What was it about?’
‘Laura. It was about Laura. And my mother.’ I’m suddenly hit with an overwhelming need to cry and I don’t want Carmen here to see it. ‘Go back to bed,’ I say again, more firmly.
‘Oh, Leo,’ she says with a sad sigh. ‘She’s really messing with your mind.’
‘GO BACK TO BED!’ I bellow, then stand up, pulling on my clothes. I know that I’m scaring her, but I can’t help that now.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks nervously, her back against the wall to keep out of my way.
‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’
I storm down the stairs and into the laundry room, where we’ve been storing our tools for the renovation. I grab a sledgehammer and run back up the stairs. Carmen is standing in the corridor, but I don’t look at her. I go straight to the bathroom and start hammering chunks out of the bath.
‘LEO!’ she shouts.
‘Stay back!’ I yell in response.
‘What’s going on?’ I hear Jorge cry from behind me.
Carmen doesn’t answer. The answer, after all, is right there in front of him. I’m getting rid of the bath. I don’t know why I didn’t do it years ago.
It takes me all of ten minutes to disassemble the bathtub and after that I feel much better, if a bit out of breath. Jorge and Carmen are still watching from the corridor.
‘Are you done renovating?’ she asks with a touch of sarcasm.
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘A shower will fit in this room better, anyway.’
We go downstairs after that – there’s no point in trying to get back to sleep. It’s about six o’clock in the morning. Carmen makes coffee. Her coffee always tastes like crap, but so does everything at the moment.
She hands over a mug, her eyes wary.
‘You feel better?’ she asks.
I don’t reply.
‘Just as well you’ve already ordered a new bathroom suite,’ Jorge comments.
‘Just as well you didn’t have it in for the toilet,’ Carmen adds.
I grin at her and she starts to laugh. Jorge joins in, and pretty soon we’re all at it.
Later they go off to get dressed, but I stay sitting on the couch, staring at the TV I’m yet to replace. My thoughts take me back to that dream.
It felt so real, seeing her dead in that bathtub. A cold feeling settles over me. What if something has happened to her?
As
this realisation sinks in, I’m chilled to my bones. I need to find out.
I go and rap on Carmen’s door.
‘What is it?’
I push the door open as she’s frantically pulling her dress over her head.
‘Leo!’ she berates.
‘I think something might have happened to Laura,’ I tell her, completely oblivious to her nakedness as fear takes over.
‘Why do you say that?’ she asks, confused. ‘Your dream?’
‘She wouldn’t do this,’ I say quickly, before she can write off my suspicion as superstition. ‘She would have called me back.’
Jorge comes out of his room. ‘What’s this?’ he asks.
I fill him in.
‘How can I find out?’ I ask him.
‘Internet?’
Eric’s taken his computer with him.
‘Internet café?’ Carmen suggests. ‘There’s got to be one around here somewhere. Although I can’t think where . . .’ she muses.
‘Hotels have the internet,’ Jorge suggests. ‘Maybe you could ask to use one of their computers for a bit? Say it’s urgent?’
I nod. ‘What’s the time?’
Carmen checks her cell. ‘Nine o’clock.’ She pauses, thinking. ‘But where would you start?’
‘With her name. That might even be enough. She runs a children’s charity and she used to date a racing driver who died. If something’s happened to her, then I should be able to find out.’
Carmen bites her lip. ‘You want me to come with you?’
‘You have to tell him.’
‘How can I tell him?’ Marty replies bluntly. ‘He couldn’t even be arsed to call her back after she left.’
‘You don’t know why that is,’ I say. ‘You’ve got to try to get hold of him somehow.’
‘I don’t even have his number,’ she mumbles, still thinking.
‘Did they ever find her phone?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, but it was crushed to bits. Replacing it has been the last thing on anyone’s mind.’
I think for a moment. I don’t suppose anyone has tried to access her voicemail, either.
‘Matthew won’t like it,’ Marty adds.
‘This is not about Matthew, it’s about Laura,’ I say firmly, knowing I’m right. ‘Laura would want you to let him know.’
She frowns, staring into space. ‘How can I do that if I don’t have his number?’
A brainwave comes to me. ‘Ring the hotel. Ring Mike on reception. I bet he’d drop a note around to the house?’
‘That’s a really good idea,’ she says. ‘But Laura said Leo and the others locked up and went back to Miami.’
‘They’ll go back to the house eventually. It’s better to have a note waiting, don’t you think? At least then you will have done everything you can.’
‘Okay. I’ll sort it,’ she says.
A guy is coming up the path when I go outside.
‘What’s up?’ I ask, holding the door open for Carmen. He looks familiar.
‘Hey! I’m Mike from the hotel next door,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think y’all would be here.’
‘Can we help you?’ Carmen says, closing the door behind her.
‘I have a note for you.’ He comes towards us.
‘A note?’ I jog to meet him, stretching out my hand.
‘It’s from a girl named Marty. She stayed with us—’
‘I know who she is! What does it say?’ I snatch it from him.
‘She wants you to call her,’ he says warily, as I read these words on the paper, along with a number. ‘She said it’s about Laura.’
I feel sick as a dog as I dial Marty’s number. She answers on the fourth ring.
‘Hello?’
‘Marty?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice sounds short.
‘It’s Leo.’
‘Leo!’ she gasps. ‘Sorry, I’m just heading back into my office after a long lunchbreak.’
‘I got your note,’ I say in a rush, willing her to get to the point.
‘That was quick!’
‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ I demand to know. ‘Is she okay?’
‘Oh.’ Her voice instantly shrinks, becomes very small. ‘No. I’m afraid she’s not.’
I’ve been pacing the floor, but now I freeze. I’m barely aware of Carmen watching nervously from the corner.
‘What’s happened?’ I can hardly speak.
‘She was hit by a car,’ she tells me gently. ‘She’s alive, but she’s in a coma.’
Shivers go up and down my spine. ‘A black car?’ My voice doesn’t feel like my own.
‘Yes,’ she sounds surprised. ‘It was, as it happens.’
‘The palm reader,’ I murmur.
Silence. ‘Oh my God, you’re right,’ she practically whispers. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.’ She starts to cry.
‘Marty, stop,’ I interrupt, suddenly feeling more in control. ‘Where is she?’
‘She’s in Cambridge, in intensive care at a hospital near her parents.’ Pause. ‘She kept trying to call you,’ she says, almost accusingly.
‘I lost my phone. I’ve been ringing her three times a day ever since I found it.’
‘Have you?’
‘Of course,’ I snap, annoyed at her tone. ‘Just tell me, is she going to be okay?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sniffs. ‘Nobody knows. They’re hoping she’ll pull through. She’s broken her left arm and some ribs, and fractured her left leg, but it’s the coma the doctors are most worried about. Brain trauma. They won’t know how bad the damage is until she wakes up. If she wakes up,’ she adds quietly. ‘I’ll keep you posted, of course. Now that I have your number.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I have to be there. I’ll come as soon as I can.’
‘What, to England?’ she blurts out.
‘Yeah.’ Thank God I sorted out a passport last year when we went diving with Jorge’s mate in the Bahamas.
‘But, do you think that’s such a good—’
‘I don’t care,’ I interrupt. ‘I need to see her. I have to see her. I’ll call when I’ve got a flight booked so you can tell me where to go.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ She sounds shell-shocked.
‘Speak soon,’ I say, and as I hang up I hear her mutter, ‘Matthew is going to kill me.’
The other one, Bridget, comes to collect me from the airport. I was planning on catching a train – I had my journey all mapped out – so I’m surprised to see the brunette holding a piece of white cardboard with my name scribbled on it when I come out of Arrivals.
‘Leo!’ she calls, waving cheerily. Too cheerily.
‘Hello,’ I say cautiously.
‘I’m here to give you a lift,’ she chirps. ‘Thought you could do with seeing a friendly face.’
I instantly feel bad. ‘Oh, thanks.’
‘Come on, it’s this way,’ she says.
It’s grey and miserable when we drive out of the car park. ‘Welcome to the UK.’ She’s being sarcastic.
‘Is there any news?’ I ask her hopefully.
‘No change,’ she says disconsolately.
We don’t speak for a while. We don’t speak much at all, actually, on the drive to Cambridge. I stare out the window at the green, green countryside. Everything looks alien. The roads are so windy, the cars so much smaller.
‘Where do you live?’ I ask her.
‘West London,’ she replies. ‘Heathrow isn’t far from me.’
We’ve been in the car for an hour and a bit, so she’s obviously going right out of her way. ‘I really appreciate this,’ I force myself to say.
‘It’s no trouble.’ She brushes me off. ‘I wanted to visit her, anyway.’
‘Have you seen her, yet?’ I ask.
‘No. Only immediate family at the moment.’
‘Will I be able to see her?’ I ask with a frown.
‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘You’ll need to speak to Laura’s parents. And Matthew,’ she adds
under her breath.
‘How is he?’ I ask uneasily.
‘Not the best,’ she replies.
I wonder how I might go about avoiding him in the near future.
I’m staying in the cheapest hotel I could find, as close to the hospital as I could manage. I can’t waste money on a car rental – I don’t know how long I’ll be here – but I’ve got my bus route worked out. Mike from the hotel next door let me use their internet to book flights and sort out the finer details. Carmen asked him, and he was happy to oblige. He seems quite fond of Laura.
A lump forms in my throat and I have to look out of the window until it passes. I don’t want to lose it in front of Bridget – or anyone, if I can help it.
‘Do you want to check in and then I’ll give you a lift to the hospital?’ Bridget asks.
‘That would be great.’
She comes with me, for moral support, I think. She’s a nicer person than I remembered. I thought she and Marty seemed a bit silly and vacant in the keys, messing around with those jocks and leaving Laura out in the cold. I still haven’t forgiven them for that, but Bridget isn’t so bad. I wonder where Marty is. I thought she was Laura’s best friend.
The hospital brings back bad memories. Pale blue walls, strip lighting and long corridors . . . Mom never went to hospital; she was dead long before it got to that point. But Alejandro did, and in my head I can still see him clearly, hooked up to machines, needles going into his arm, a ventilator connected to his mouth, low insistent bleeps in the background. Eventually the bleeps became one incessant noise, announcing his death.
As it turns out, I can’t even see Laura. I ask to speak to a doctor and I’m directed to a small Visitors’ Room with Bridget. We’re the only people in there and we’re waiting a long, long time.
‘She believed in you, you know,’ Bridget says miserably, out of the blue.
I look at her, sitting perpendicular to me on a brown couch under the one window. My eyes are stinging, my body feels like it’s weighted down. I’ve barely slept in seventy-two hours and I’m not going to sleep now.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, surprised by her statement.
‘She loved you. Do you know that?’
I nod, because I can’t speak.
‘She told us, Marty and me. She thought you loved her, too.’
I look away, then lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, rubbing my hand over my mouth in agitation and fighting back tears.