Rose used the payphone in the hall.
‘How are you?’ Dr Whitfield asked.
‘No different. There’s no change.’
‘All in good time. Listen, I don’t know if this is significant, but someone was asking after you this afternoon. A woman. She phoned the clinic. She wanted to know if you’d recovered consciousness.’
Rose’s skin prickled. ‘Did she mention my name?’
‘No. She simply referred to you as the patient who was brought in unconscious on Monday evening.’
‘Who is she?’
‘She didn’t identify herself. The call was taken by one of our least experienced staff, unfortunately.’
Biting back the rebuke that was imminent, Rose asked, ‘What else was said?’
‘The girl at our end told her you’d been discharged and were being cared for by the social services.’
‘Did she tell this woman where to find me?’
The doctor said in a shocked tone, ‘We wouldn’t do that, particularly without knowing who the call was from. I’m afraid all we can tell you is that the voice sounded local. There was some of the West Country in it. It’s odd that she didn’t leave her name. None of this makes any sense, I suppose?’
‘No sense at all,’ Rose said, incensed that such a chance had been allowed to slip.
‘The caller may well get on to the Social Services and trace you that way. I wanted you to be informed, just in case. How did you get on with Mrs Thornton?’
She controlled herself enough to tell him about the white car with the fish emblem. He said he hadn’t any knowledge of such a vehicle.
‘I wouldn’t get too excited. Old people can get things wrong,’ he told her. ‘She could easily have made a mistake about the fish.’
When Rose replaced the phone her hand was red from gripping it. Through someone’s incompetence a real chance had been lost. They should have traced that call. Dr Whitfield knew it and was covering up for the hospital. He was a right ruddy diplomat. How could she believe anything he said? All these promises about her memory being swiftly restored: how much were they worth from a man who told you what he thought you wanted to hear?
Up in their room she told Ada about the call. ‘I want to strangle someone,’ she said finally.
‘Terrific,’ said Ada. ‘Just what I need to hear from the person I share my room with.’
Rose couldn’t even raise a smile.
Ada asked, ‘Who do you think she is, this woman who called the hospital?’
‘That’s the bind. I’ll never know, will I, unless she gets in touch again? She could be one of my family, or a friend, or someone I work with.’
Ada shook her head. ‘Think it through, petal. How could your nearest and dearest know you were in the Hinton Clinic? The only people who know you were in there are those pillocks who dumped you in the car park.’
Rose stared at her. Such was her anger that this simple point had not dawned on her.
Ada continued, ‘It’s my belief that this call was from the woman Mrs Thornton saw, the dark-haired dame in the car. She and Mr thin-on-top have you on their conscience. They needed to find out if you were dead.’
She had come to respect Ada’s logic. ‘You’re saying the call was from the people who knocked me down?’
‘Unless you can think of something better.’
‘Bloody hell, it’s so frustrating. And now they know I survived, will I hear from them?’
‘No chance. What does every motor insurance company advise you to do after an accident? Admit nothing.’
Rose sank her face into her hands. ‘Oh, shit a brick. What’s to be done, Ada? Where do I turn for help?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ said Ada.
She looked up. ‘You’re not giving up? I need your brain, Ada. Mine’s seized up completely.’
‘And I know why.’
‘Yes?’
‘You haven’t eaten for hours. You can’t think any more on an empty stomach. Me, too. Why don’t we go down to Sainsbury’s and liberate some fillet steaks?’
Rose stared at her in horror. ‘I can’t do that. I’m not a shoplifter.’
Ada’s eyes glittered wickedly. ‘How do you know?’
She stood as Ada’s lookout at the end of the chilled meat aisle, trying to give the impression she couldn’t decide between two portions of minced beef. She had one hand on a trolley containing two cartons of cereal and a bottle of lemonade. Her job was to keep watch for any member of the Sainsbury’s staff who happened to come by. She was supposed to distract them by asking where to find the maple syrup. This would compel them (customer relations having such a high priority at Sainsbury’s) to escort her to the far end of the store, leaving Ada to make a sharp exit at the other end of the aisle.
Even Rose, without any experience of this kind of crime, could tell that the strategy was flawed. Big supermarkets like this employed store detectives who weren’t dressed in uniform. But then Ada had never claimed to be an efficient shoplifter. She grabbed two packs of meat and stuffed them inside her blouse while her accomplice watched, appalled. It was swiftly done and Rose could only suppose the extra bulges wouldn’t show.
She wouldn’t fancy the steak.
She had agreed to do this only from a sense of obligation. She felt she couldn’t refuse after Ada had supported her at the Hinton Clinic. There was no risk in being the lookout, Ada had insisted. Ada Shaftsbury had never ratted on a friend, and you had to believe she was speaking the truth.
It was still nerve-racking, especially as Ada wasn’t content with two packs. She grabbed two more and moved to another aisle to scoop up some vegetables. Rose went too, squeezing the handle of the trolley to stop her hands from shaking.
The plunder continued. Some loose runner beans and a number of courgettes went under the waistband of Ada’s skirt. The fit was so tight that there was no danger of them falling through. Next, she acquired a handful of tomatoes and dropped them into her cleavage.
‘Hello.’
Rose jerked in alarm.
‘What are you doing?’
She turned around guiltily. But the voice was only a child’s. A boy of about three, or perhaps a little older, in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and blue shorts, was staring up at her.
She swallowed hard and told him, ‘Just picking out some things.’
‘What things?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
‘Are you going to buy some biscuits?’
‘I don’t expect so.’ She looked up and down the aisle. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your mummy?’
‘She’s over there.’ He pointed vaguely. She could have been any one of a dozen women waiting for service at the cold meat counter.
‘You don’t want to get lost,’ said Rose, wishing fervently that he would. She was supposed to be scouting for Ada, not humouring little boys. ‘Why don’t you go back to Mummy?’
He said, ‘I like chocolate chip cookies. I like chocolate chip cookies best.’
‘There aren’t any here,’ said Rose. ‘This is fruit and vegetables here.’
‘They’re up there. Do you want me to show you?’
‘No. I’m too busy.’
‘They have got some here.’
‘Is that so?’ she responded without enthusiasm, still trying to keep Ada in sight.
‘You got me some on the train,’ said the child. ‘What?’ She frowned at him.
‘Chocolate chip cookies. You remember.’
‘
‘Yes. For being a good boy.’
