Daz was a strange colour. More yellow than he had been on Saturday. His lips were cracked and dry, like he’d been exposed to frosty weather. As Cole looked closer, he saw Daz’s facial muscles had relaxed, like Daz was melting into the pillow, and when Cole took Daz’s cold hand, the skin was brittle and stiff. The machines still beeped, but Cole was certain they sounded different. The longer he stared at what was left of Daz, the more the beeps sounded like bells.
Cole heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Stenson and Ibrahim approach. He got to his feet and both consultants shook his hand. Stenson pulled the curtain around the bed while Ibrahim spoke. “I’m very sorry Mr Cole. We’ve done everything we can. He has suffered catastrophic organ failure.” He pointed to Daz. “You can see his liver has given up too. The machines have been keeping him alive, but they can't do the job of the liver.”
“But why did this happen?”
“We don't know. The brain trauma was significant, and I doubt he would have recovered from that.”
“But you did that operation on his head?”
“Yes. The decompressive craniectomy.” Ibrahim adjusted the tie beneath his white coat. “It wasn't as successful as we’d hoped.”
“Did you fuck it up?”
“No, Mr Cole. I can assure you we didn't. The risks were made clear in the document you signed.”
Cole shook his head. “You think I read that?”
Ibrahim pursed his lips. “We think it’s time.”
“For what?” Cole felt a sharp pain rise in his throat.
“To let him go.”
Cole swallowed several times and flexed his fingers. He brought his hand to his face and pulled at his chin. Each breath he took sounded loud and wheezy, and each beep of a machine warned him of the coming knell. He blinked back tears, took a huge breath and nodded at Ibrahim.
“Would you like a few minutes first?” Ibrahim asked.
Again Cole nodded, and the doctors withdrew to the other side of the curtain, leaving him alone with Daz. He leaned over and tried to pull Daz to him in a great hug, but tubes and wires made it awkward, so Cole just held him tight and rocked back and forth. He gave into the tears and he convulsed with sobs. Tears fell onto Daz’s face and it looked as if both brothers cried together.
Cole wiped his eyes with the edge of the sheet and took several deep breaths. “I love you, bruv,” he whispered. “Fucking love you. Life will never be the same for me again. Never.”
He brushed the curtain apart at the gap and nodded at Ibrahim. Cole let the curtain fall, sat on the bed and took Daz’s hand in his. A moment later, an arm reached in, flicked switches on the machines and then withdrew. The numbers displayed on the screens changed. The beeping slowed. Numbers lowered further. The rate of decrease increased. A number hit zero. A klaxon sounded. The beeping turned continuous. The colour drained from Daz’s face as Cole watched. An arm reached in again and pressed buttons. The sounds died. Cole was all alone in the world.
98
Kristin left her apartment and took the Tube to Monument. The journey gave her over 40 minutes to reflect on her motives for spying on Olivia. Several times, she considered going back home, or going to see Alice. Even the word spying made her shift in her seat. But she needed to be sure, so she stayed on the train and convinced herself she did the right thing.
As she walked up the steps onto Eastcheap, she blinked in the bright sunshine and put on her sunglasses. She paused to pull her hair back into a ponytail, then continued to Leadenhall Market. The outdoor tables on the cobbled pedestrianised roadways gave her pause. It would require care and discretion if she didn't want Olivia to see her.
The Lloyd’s building was visible from the market centre, and she walked to Lime Street towards the entrance. People milled in and out of the building, hurrying past a fat man in a red coat and gold braided black cap. Kristin walked on. It wasn’t lunch time yet but loitering by the main entrance would be a risk.
Instead, she crossed the street and sat opposite the church, close enough to keep an eye on the entrance so she could identify Olivia leaving the building. Or Ian. Would they leave together, or did she have it all wrong? Time would tell. But time dragged. By 1pm the pedestrian traffic thickened, but there had been no sign of Ian or Olivia, and she thought she may have missed them. But Olivia had said Leadenhall Market, so a casual stroll through the lunch crowd would be a fall back plan. Albeit a poor one.
Around 1pm, she squinted through her sunglasses and sat straighter. Her heart beat faster and despite the heat, she shivered. Olivia and Ian walked out of the building together. She stood and made her way down Lime Street after them on shaky legs. It was difficult to follow them through the crowd, as every so often, a gap would open, and fearful either would look back, she kept her distance.
By the time she reached Leadenhall Market, she lost them. She stopped at a doorway and glanced to the tables on the street ahead. Most were occupied. Then she thought she saw Olivia enter the door to a Spanish restaurant. As she hurried towards the entrance, she saw Olivia through the window while walking up the stairs. Olivia looked out and their eyes seemed to meet, but Olivia turned away and climbed out of sight.
Kristin spun around and found a table outside a coffee shop which offered a view of
