“She tried to kill herself.”
“She says it was an accident. Claims she just wanted to get some sleep.”
Harlan shook his head doubtfully. “Where is she now?”
“At home. She refused to go to hospital.”
“Who’s with her?”
“Just her son, as far as I know.”
Harlan’s brow creased. “Why the hell isn’t there a uniform with her?”
“She wouldn’t let anyone else in the house.” Jim’s phone beeped as a text message came in. He flipped it open. “The meeting’s set up for half-ten. Shit, I’d better get a move on. I’ll call you, let you know how it goes.” He hurried from the room.
Even before Jim’s footfalls had died away, Harlan was punching the call button to summon a nurse. His fingers drummed against the mattress as he waited. When a nurse finally poked her head into the room, he said, “I need to see the doctor.”
“Doctor Hill’s doing her rounds right now. She’ll be looking in on you in a bit.”
Irritation surged up in Harlan. But before he could retort that he wanted to see Doctor fucking Hill right this fucking minute, Eve’s smiling face appeared at the nurse’s shoulder. Her smile faded at the sight of Harlan. As the nurse moved away, Eve approached him, carrying a brown paper bag of fruit. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve got to get out of this fucking place.”
“Why?”
Harlan told her about Susan. “I need to see her, otherwise…” He couldn’t bring himself to say what he feared might happen otherwise.
“But surely you’re not ready to be discharged yet. Your wound could-”
“Fuck my wound,” cut in Harlan. Seeing Eve blink at the harshness of his retort, he gave her an apologetic look. “Look, when the doctor gets here, just back up whatever I say to her, will you?”
Harlan was sat on the edge of his bed when Dr Hill arrived. “You should be lying down,” said the doctor.
“I want to be discharged,” said Harlan.
“I’d strongly advise against that. We need to keep you under observation for at least another forty-eight hours.”
“I feel fine.”
“You need total bed rest. If you walk, you could tear your stitches.”
“I promise I won’t walk a step. Eve will make sure of that, won’t you?”
Eve’s lips pursed into a tight line, but she nodded.
“Before you can go anywhere, I’ll need to examine you.” Dr Hill took Harlan’s temperature and checked his blood-pressure. Then she carefully peeled back the bandage and sterile gauze pad. The stitches looked like an ugly, puckered mouth. The skin around them was storm-cloud black, fading to purplish yellow. The colour leached from Eve’s face at the sight. “All your vitals are normal and there’s no sign of infection.”
“So I can leave.”
“Are you dead set on this?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then, I can’t stop you from doing it, but before you go there are a few things we need to sort out.”
Dr Hill explained to Eve that the wound needed redressing every day for the first week and demonstrated how to apply a fresh bandage. Then she spoke about what tablets Harlan had to take and when to take them. Finally, she headed off to sort out the discharge arrangements and find a nurse to help Harlan get dressed. “Get dressed in what?” asked Harlan. He had a hazy memory of his trousers and sweatshirt being cut off him when he arrived at A amp;E. His wallet, phone, shoes and socks were in a plastic bag in the bedside cabinet, caked in dried blood.
“There are some shops downstairs. I’ll see if I can find you something,” said Eve. She weighed Harlan up. “You’ve lost a little weight since I last bought clothes for you.”
Harlan managed a smile. “I guess that’s one good thing prison did for me, got rid of my love handles.”
Soon enough Eve returned with a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a hooded sweatshirt she’d found in a charity shop. “Not exactly the height of fashion, but I figured tracksuit bottoms would be the most comfortable thing.”
Harlan pulled on the sweatshirt. A nurse helped him into the tracksuit bottoms while Eve cleaned the blood off his shoes as best she could at the sink. Clapping her hand to her mouth suddenly, she rushed retching from the room. Harlan looked at her with concern when, after several minutes, she returned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. The blood turned my stomach, that’s all.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Harlan’s face. Gripping the bed’s support frame, he lowered himself into a wheelchair from which hung plastic bags full of bandages and pill boxes. After he’d scribbled his signature on a few forms, Eve wheeled him to her car. He shook his head as she moved to help him into the passenger seat and gestured at the wheelchair. “Get rid of this thing.”
“But the doctor said-”
“I don’t give a shit what she said. Get rid of it.”
Sighing, Eve returned the wheelchair to the hospital building.
For some time they drove in silence, Harlan staring out the window, casting occasional thoughtful glances at Eve. “How you feeling?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“It’s just you’re not usually the type to get queasy at the sight of blood.”
“Instead of worrying about me, Harlan, you should worry about looking after yourself. I’m assuming you don’t want me hanging around once we get to Susan Reed’s house.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m not planning on doing anything more strenuous than talking. I just want to be there for her, make sure she doesn’t try anything stupid.”
“What makes you think she wants you to be there for her?”
“Because I’m all she’s got right now.”
Eve flicked Harlan a glance and he could see her thoughts. She was thinking: what about me? Who the fuck have I got? She didn’t say it, though. However much she was hurting, she knew it was nothing compared to Susan Reed’s pain. When they arrived at Susan’s house, all the curtains were closed. Eve looked at Harlan like a mother would look at a child she was reluctant to let out of her sight. “I’ll wait in case she doesn’t let you in.”
Harlan shook his head. “If she sees you it’ll make her angry.”
Eve frowned. “Why? Because she can’t stand to think you might have any happiness in life?”
Harlan held in a sigh. He didn’t have the energy for this now. “Thanks for the lift, Eve. I’ll call you.”
“When? In the next fucking life?”
The sigh escaped. Harlan reached for the door-handle.
“Wait.” Eve put her hand on his arm. Her voice came more softly. “If you need me to change your bandage, cook you a meal, whatever, you know where I am.”
Mustering up a small smile, Harlan nodded and squeezed Eve’s hand. Their eyes mirrored each other’s sadness — not the sadness of lovers parting, but a deeper, more profound sadness of shared loss. She took the key out of the ignition and proffered it to him. “Take it,” she insisted as he shook his head. “Please, Harlan, for me. I won’t be able to rest otherwise.”
Harlan accepted the key. “Thanks.”
Eve leaned in towards him hesitantly, as if unsure whether to kiss him. She didn’t kiss him. She just murmured, “I love you.” Then she got out of the car. Harlan watched her until she reached the end of the street, before slowly approaching and knocking on Susan’s front door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. Not even a twitch of the curtains.
“Susan,” Harlan called through the letterbox, voice tight with the pain of bending. “It’s Harlan Miller.” To his relief, after a few seconds, his straining ears caught the sound of feet descending the stairs. His relief evaporated when the door opened and he saw Susan. He expected her to look bad, but her face, ashen and cadaverous with deep bruised circles under the eyes, was even ghastlier than he’d imagined. He’d seen corpses that looked more alive than she did. Gaze darting over his shoulder, she motioned for him to come inside. She closed the door quickly behind him and shot the lock.
