But I can hear the sound of another car approaching and Lizzie leaps to her feet and runs back to her car. I hear her engine starting and the car turning. Then nothing.
Thirty-eight
I dream I am running, running through a corn field with Charlie. The sun is shining, and we’re happy and free. We’re running for no reason, like excited puppies. I’m young and strong, and I feel as if I could run for ever. But suddenly the scene changes as sometimes happens in dreams. I am at the edge of a fast-flowing river and dark storm clouds are gathering, swallowing the sun. Charlie is still there but she looks worried and a little embarrassed and she points down at my legs.
‘Er, Cat, there’s something wrong,’ she says.
And when I look down, I see that a crocodile is gnawing on my knees, blood gushing out of the stumps, staining the river red.
I wake with a start in hospital to the groans of other patients and the clatter of the nurses. Feeling disoriented, I open my eyes and look around. I’m in bed with a blue curtain partially drawn so I can see part of the ward. There’s an elderly woman in the bed opposite mine; she’s doing a crossword, reading out the clues loudly to her husband, who is looking bored and munching chocolates.
And Theo is here. He’s sitting by my bedside holding my hand.
What’s going on? I am confused and a little scared. What’s going on? Am I still dreaming?
‘You’re awake,’ Theo smiles at me. ‘You drifted off for a while. But you’re back now.’ I can feel his hand in mine. It’s warm and real. His brown eyes are kind and full of something that looks unnervingly like pity.
‘Look, I brought you a packet of fudge. It’s homemade. I bought it at the craft fair. He unties the ribbon and opens the bag and I get a whiff of sugar and vanilla. ‘If you don’t eat it, I will,’ he says.
I turn my head away. I feel sick. Everything is flooding back. Charlie, Daisy. Lizzie. The accident. I was in a car accident. Dylan . . .
‘Dylan?’ I exclaim, panicked. I try to sit up, to swing my legs out of the bed but nothing happens. No movement. No feeling. ‘Where is he?’
‘Shh, relax, he’s okay. He’s with your mother,’ says Theo.
I reach down tentatively with my hands and touch the cool, flabby flesh of my thighs. My legs are still there but there’s no feeling in them.
‘But Lizzie Hamlyn . . . is Dylan hurt?’ I stammer out the words.
‘Meg Darley phoned the police. They arrested Elizabeth Hamlyn on the Swindon Road. She gave him up without a struggle. Dylan’s okay. He’s traumatised by the whole experience, obviously, but the doctor says that with time he’ll be just fine.’
Tired tears of relief roll down my cheeks. If Dylan is alive and well, then the world is still on its axis and I can face anything.
‘I want to see him,’ I say.
‘He’ll be here tomorrow. He came this earlier this morning, but you were asleep.’
I try not to think about how frightening it must have been for him to see me in hospital like this.
Tentatively, I reach down under the covers and touch the tops of my thighs again. At least I think they’re my legs. They feel waxy and soft and there’s stubble growing where I’ve shaved. I take a piece of flesh between my thumb and forefinger and pinch hard. Nothing. They might as well be a stranger’s limbs in the bed with me. It’s strange, and very frightening.
‘I can’t feel my legs,’ I say, fighting back a wave of alarm.
Theo nods and his brow furrows. He has that panicked look he gets when I’m upset. He looks around over his shoulder as if he wants to escape. ‘Yes, you had a car accident. The impact damaged your spine.’
I feel a heavy weight dropping in my chest. Spinal injuries are never good, and I can tell from the way Theo is avoiding my eyes that this is bad.
‘Am I paralysed?’ I whisper. I don’t really believe that I could be, but I’m a worst-case-scenario kind of person. The flawed logic being if you think of the worst, then it can’t possibly come true. It’s worked for me many times before, but I suppose simple statistics mean the worst-case scenario will happen eventually, even if you try to pre-empt it.
Theo meets my eyes for a second, then looks away.
‘Perhaps it’s better if the doctors explain it to you.’
Coward.
‘I want you to explain it. Am I paralysed?’ The fact that he hasn’t outright denied it is making me nervous and my voice is rising in alarm. I try moving again, nothing happens. I feel a cold chill run through me.
He brushes his hand through his hair. ‘Um, I’m not sure I really understood what the doctors told me. There may be a temporary paralysis.’
‘Don’t lie to me please. People don’t recover from spinal injuries.’
‘There are some exercises you can do. We’ll get through this, Cat. We’ll fight this together.’
We? Together? ‘You, me and Harper, you mean?’ I say bitterly.
‘Harper’s out of the picture. You know that. I want us to get back together. I want to take care of you. I want to take care of Dylan.’
I stare out of the window, at the clouds sailing past in the blue sky. I don’t like the way he says he wants to take care of me – the implication being that I’m not going to be able to take care of myself. And I’m still desperately worried about Dylan. Is he really safe? Could Lizzie try to take him again?
‘What about Lizzie Hamlyn?’ I ask.
‘I told you, she’s been arrested and charged. The police are doing a psychological evaluation.’
‘You don’t understand. She’s really dangerous. She killed Charlie Holbrooke.’
‘Yes, I know. The police know too.’
‘They do?’ I
