anything of the sort, because the pain and guilt had just come back a hundredfold, a millionfold, meting out its glorious revenge on him, literally blowing his mind, bursting his brain open, making it swell and expand so that they had to cut away his skull to let it breathe in peace.
Fucking karma. Why didn’t he just confess right at the start? Charlie and Zoe had talked him out of it, but it was all his fault, and his alone. He was driving, drunk and wasted. He was weak and allowed himself to be persuaded not to call an ambulance, the police, whoever the fuck could’ve helped.
But he couldn’t confess now. He was still weak, too weak for the truth. What about Adele? What about Ryan, who had lost a daddy and a dog in less than a week? What about Dean and the Mackies? He was in the middle of a terrible shitstorm and couldn’t see a way out. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t been saved, if they’d just let his brain explode and kill him. That’s what he deserved.
He suddenly thought of Jeanie. Who would look after her if he died? And where was she anyway?
He sat up and looked round. Where was his phone? A small bedside cabinet. He opened it and there were all his clothes, neatly folded.
‘Hey.’
He looked up. Zoe, with a worried look. Christ, he didn’t deserve her. So much better than him, stronger, more together, more focused. In control. Everything he wasn’t.
‘I brought someone to see you,’ she said.
He noticed she was holding a lead. A snuffling sound came from underneath the bed.
‘Jeanie.’
The sound of a tail thumping on the floor, then her head popped out from under the bed, ears pinned back in sheer, uncomplicated joy.
Zoe smiled. ‘Dogs aren’t normally allowed in here, but Charlie sweet-talked the nurses.’
‘Come here, girl,’ he said. She nuzzled into him. He stroked her head and tickled her chin. He rubbed her flanks, feeling the ribs still poking through the fur. He leaned down to smell her, soak her up. ‘I’m sorry I left you. I won’t ever leave you again.’
‘You really love that dog, don’t you?’ There was a hint of something in Zoe’s voice, a tinge of sadness.
Billy wanted to say something in reply to that, but he couldn’t think what.
‘Thanks for bringing her. Where was she?’
‘Still in the pub. I think they wanted to adopt her. They’d made her quite at home, fed her and taken her for walks. When Charlie got back last night we headed over there and picked her up. She was upset not to see you, so I thought I’d bring her in this morning.’
‘What about her medication?’
‘It’s OK, I’ve kept up with the dosage.’
‘And no problems, no fits or anything?’
‘Billy, I think you have a bit more to worry about than Jeanie at the moment.’
Everything she said was weighted with a strange kind of sadness. Did she know about him and Adele in the toilets?
‘How are you feeling?’ she said.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, far enough away that they weren’t touching.
‘Fine, considering I’ve got a swollen brain and a hole in my skull.’
‘Don’t joke about it.’
‘Who’s joking?’
She looked down at her lap. Her hands were lying there, motionless, and she stared at them as if they belonged to someone else.
‘I really care about you, Billy.’
‘I know.’
Jesus, was she about to dump him? He couldn’t blame her.
‘Charlie and I have been so worried about you.’
That ‘Charlie and I’ made him bristle. It sounded parental, like they were a couple. He remembered the two of them mollycoddling him, persuading him not to call the authorities, not to confess. Trying to keep him medicated and calm, under their control. Had it really been like that? He couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t sure about anything any more.
He felt Jeanie lick his hand, the roughness of her tongue on his skin. He imagined her licking up all the poisons that were leaching out of his pores, cleansing him of all the bad karma and drugs and nightmares.
‘Everything’s going to be OK,’ Zoe said.
She placed a hand on top of his on the bedsheets. It was cold. She’d always had bad circulation, was always wearing more layers than him around the flat. They made a joke of her freezing extremities. Cold hands, warm heart. His own hands were hot and slippery with illness and medication and sweat. What did that say?
He leaned over to shove his nose into the side of Jeanie’s head, pulling his hand out carefully from under Zoe’s and tickling Jeanie behind the ears. The dog smelled of something primal but comforting. Eventually he raised his face to Zoe’s. She seemed sad beyond words.
A door slammed and they jumped. Jeanie flinched and backed away, head darting around nervously.
‘You fucking cunt.’
Billy recognised the voice. Here it comes, he thought, bring it on.
Dean Whitehouse was striding down the corridor towards them, finger pointing, eyes blazing, veins in his neck twitching.
Billy instinctively pushed Jeanie out of harm’s way and raised his hands in a half-hearted placating gesture.
‘I’m going to fucking kill you,’ Dean said. ‘You little piece of shit.’
He was almost at them now.
Zoe looked at Billy and got up from the bed.
‘Billy?’
‘Dean Whitehouse,’ Billy said. ‘Frank’s brother.’
Zoe turned to Dean. ‘Now wait a minute, you can’t come in here.. ’
‘Shut your fucking face, you posh bitch.’
He pushed past her and launched himself at Billy, grabbing the front of his hospital gown and hauling him up.
‘I know what you were doing with Adele in the pub toilets. Fucking my brother’s wife when he’s not even cold in the ground. You sick fuck.’
He threw a punch. Billy didn’t even try to defend himself. What was the point? He was going to die here, there was nothing he could do about it.
‘Billy?’
It was Zoe. He couldn’t look at her.
Dean laughed, indicating Zoe. ‘This your bird? Very nice.’ He turned to her. ‘Didn’t you know, darling? This slimy little cunt has been fucking my sister-in-law, taking advantage of her grief.’
‘It’s not like that.’ Billy wasn’t sure why he was bothering to speak.
‘Billy?’
He looked at Zoe now. Tears forming in her eyes. She backed away from the bed.
‘Zoe, wait.’ Why? What would he do if she stayed? He had no words.
Dean still had a hold of Billy’s gown. He threw a rabbit punch into Billy’s side, sending shockwaves through his body. Billy struggled to breathe.
Then suddenly Dean was spread across Billy’s lap, three men in hospital uniforms pinning him against the bed and pulling at his arms as he thrashed around, screaming, his neck muscles and shoulders straining.
The three men lifted Dean away from the bed by his arms. Dean grimaced, shot Billy a stare full of venom, then spat at him. Billy felt the phlegm hit his cheek and lips and raised a hand to wipe it off, trying to get breath back into his lungs as he drowned in pain, soaked in it.
Dean was being dragged backwards. ‘I’m not finished with you, fucking prick. Watch your back. I’m going to destroy you.’
The men yanked at Dean, making him flinch. They pulled him past Zoe, who stood there frozen to the spot,
