Sophie nodded; she didn’t know what meningitis was, but she definitely didn’t like the sound of it.
‘Tell Tiff to get better and come home. Does he want some Smarties?’
Tiff was currently semi-comatose and connected up to a forest of machines and drips. Reaching over to kiss Sophie, Jake shook his head.
‘Not just now, darling. But he loved your card.’
‘Give them both our love,’ said Maddy, stroking Sophie’s unbraided candyfloss hair.
‘Can’t I go with Dad? I want to go,’ Sophie whispered.
‘I know sweetheart, but we can’t.’ As Jake left, Maddy realised she’d never seen him look so sombre.
‘Tiff’s my best friend.’ Sophie’s bottom lip began to wobble. ‘I don’t want him to die.’
In the ITU, Tiff occupied the bed in the far left-hand corner of the ward. Jake, holding his fragile hand and stroking his fingers, watched Juliet asleep in the chair next to him. Exhaustion had caught up with her; it was midnight and she’d fallen into a fitful doze twenty minutes earlier. As a plump nurse silently approached them, he slid his hand away from Tiff’s and rose to his feet.
‘Tiff’s father just phoned,’ whispered the nurse, causing Jake’s eyebrows to shoot up.
‘And?’
‘He wanted to know how Tiff was doing. I told him.’ Curious, Jake asked, ‘Did he say where he was calling from?’
The plump nurse shook her head. ‘No, just that he was on his way.’
Interesting, thought Jake. So he was about to meet Tiff’s mysterious father at last.
Still dozing in her hard chair two hours later, Juliet felt a hand on her arm.
‘Juliet? Tiff’s father’s arrived.’
‘What?’ Bewildered, Juliet stared up at the nurse. ‘But he can’t have. I didn’t call him.’
‘He’s here now, in the waiting room.’ The plump nurse glanced at Jake, who shrugged.
‘He’s not in this country,’ said Juliet.
‘Well, do you want to come and see who’s in the waiting room?’ Diplomatically the nurse added,
‘If it is Tiff’s dad, we do prefer only two visitors • for each patient at any one time.’ This was addressed to Jake, who guessed that it was ward policy to avoid potentially awkward encounters between parents and step- parents, which, was presumably what they thought he was.
‘Don’t worry.’ Standing up, Jake said, ‘I’ll go and find a coffee machine.’ Looking down at Juliet, hollow-eyed with concern for Tiff, he murmured, Will you be OK?’
Wordlessly, Juliet nodded.
As he left the unit, it occurred to Jake that the field had just narrowed dramatically. Juliet hadn’t told Tiff’s father. But somehow he’d heard about Tiff’s illness. While he was
The waiting room was ahead of him, to the left.
Without pausing, he pushed open the door and came face to face with Oliver Taylor-Trent.
‘Thought so,’ said Jake.
Chapter 39
Juliet watched Oliver make his way down the darkened ward towards her. He looked terrible; business suit crumpled, greying hair uncombed, the lines around his mouth grown deeper than usual like cracks in parched ground. Then again, she probably wasn’t looking that spectacular herself.
Too shattered to move, Juliet sat and listened to the night nurse patiently explaining to him the functions of the various bits of machinery surrounding the bed. Being Oliver, he demanded to speak to the consultant in charge of the unit and threatened to become difficult when it was explained to him that the consultant was at home, asleep.
Finally, Juliet intervened.
‘Tiff’s getting the best care. Losing your temper isn’t going to help him. Oliver, sit down.’
‘I can’t bear it.’ Oliver’s gaze was fixed on his son’s fragile, immobile body. ‘I just want to make him better.’ Turning abruptly to the nurse he said, ‘Would a private hospital be able to do more? If it’s a question of money, I don’t care how much it costs—’
‘They’re doing everything possible,’ said Juliet. ‘It’s OK,’ she told the hovering nurse, ‘I’ll speak to him.’
‘He was fine the other day, I saw him playing outside the shop with Sophie... absolutely fine ...’
‘He was fine twenty-four hours ago. That’s the thing about meningitis.’
Oliver was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why didn’t you phone me? You should have phoned me as soon as it happened.’
Juliet shrugged. ‘I knew you were in Switzerland. It would have made it more serious. I just kept hoping they’d say he was getting better. How did you find out?’ she said, although it was fairly obvious.
‘I rang Estelle. She told me what had happened. I was about to go into a meeting.’ Oliver gazed blankly down at Tiff. ‘I walked out of the building, flagged down a taxi and caught the first flight out of Zurich. When I was growing up in Bradford,’ he went on in a low voice, ‘there was a boy who lived opposite me. Billy Kennedy, his name was. We used to play in the same football team. He got meningitis.’
‘What happened to him?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth, Juliet regretted them.
