GP know. He’ll want a look at that head wound in a couple of days.’
Free of the consultant, Claire checked her wallet for the emergency breakdown number. Thank God someone had thought to remove her handbag from the wreck and send it in the ambulance with her. Claire had a suspicion it had been her rescuer. She silently vowed never to talk disparagingly about ‘white van man’ again.
Her mobile proved useless, either damaged by the crash or out of battery, so Claire asked the nurse whether she could use the ward phone.
The emergency number rang for a long time, and Claire was glad she wasn’t on a cold lonely road in the middle of a storm. When a woman finally responded, Claire explained the situation. The woman tutted sympathetically.
‘Our garden shed blew down. It was a terrible night.’
Claire gave her the whereabouts of the car.
‘We’ll pick it up and supply a replacement.’
If the woman had been in the room, Claire would have kissed her.
‘Can someone bring the car to the hospital? My daughter isn’t well enough for me to come to you.’
It wasn’t strictly true, but it worked. The car would be with her in half an hour. Claire thanked the woman profusely and rang off.
She dressed slowly, conscious she was putting on the clothes she’d soaked and muddied the night before. Someone had done their best to clean and dry them, and she was grateful. Without anyone to bring fresh clothes to the hospital, Claire had little choice.
When she went in search of Emma, she found her sitting on her bed reading a book. She was wearing something from the hospital’s store of children’s outfits, a bit too big for her. It made her look like a refugee.
‘Hi.’
Emma studied her mum’s expression. ‘Can we go home now?’
Claire smiled. ‘I’ve organised a car.’
Emma slid off the bed and came for a hug.
‘I promise to stay on the road this time,’ said Claire.
She had a fleeting recollection of the figure that had caused her to swerve, and a shiver ran down her spine. The detective had listened to her explanation as to why she’d left the road, but although he’d taken down a description, he hadn’t looked convinced. Claire decided not to think about it or mention it again. Especially not to Emma. One thing she was sure of, the figure on the road had not been Nick.
A shadow crossed the little girl’s face. ‘Gran’s dead.’
‘What?’ Claire had been so busy worrying about getting Emma home, she’d almost forgotten her mother.
‘When I fell asleep in the car, I dreamt she died.’
Claire hugged the girl to her and kissed the top of her head.
‘I’ll call the hospice.’
‘Your mother passed away at six thirty p.m. last night.’
It was, almost to the moment, the time she’d turned on the radio to listen to the weather warnings.
‘We tried calling you . . .’
‘I was in a car accident. My mobile was damaged.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. You’re all right, I hope?’
‘I banged my head and lost my memory for a bit.’
The hospice nurse murmured a few more condolences, then added: ‘Your mother made all the arrangements for her funeral when she came to us. You don’t have to rush over. Give me a call tomorrow.’
Her mother had made all the arrangements, probably even written the funeral invitations. It was so like her. ‘I don’t want to be a burden’ was her motto.
Emma looked up as she re-entered the room. Claire had expected tears, but her daughter didn’t look upset. Not the way she’d been the previous night.
‘Gran’s OK, Mummy. She told me.’
‘When did she tell you?’
‘When I was in the woods.’
The look of conviction on the child’s face made Claire uneasy, but she decided to play along.
‘Granny will be in heaven, bossing everyone about.’
‘She’s not there yet,’ Emma corrected her firmly, ‘but she says she soon will be.’
It was difficult to believe they were travelling the same route. In broad daylight the moor looked
Free of the consultant, Claire checked her wallet for the emergency breakdown number. Thank God someone had thought to remove her handbag from the wreck and send it in the ambulance with her. Claire had a suspicion it had been her rescuer. She silently vowed never to talk disparagingly about ‘white van man’ again.
Her mobile proved useless, either damaged by the crash or out of battery, so Claire asked the nurse whether she could use the ward phone.
The emergency number rang for a long time, and Claire was glad she wasn’t on a cold lonely road in the middle of a storm. When a woman finally responded, Claire explained the situation. The woman tutted sympathetically.
‘Our garden shed blew down. It was a terrible night.’
Claire gave her the whereabouts of the car.
‘We’ll pick it up and supply a replacement.’
If the woman had been in the room, Claire would have kissed her.
‘Can someone bring the car to the hospital? My daughter isn’t well enough for me to come to you.’
It wasn’t strictly true, but it worked. The car would be with her in half an hour. Claire thanked the woman profusely and rang off.
She dressed slowly, conscious she was putting on the clothes she’d soaked and muddied the night before. Someone had done their best to clean and dry them, and she was grateful. Without anyone to bring fresh clothes to the hospital, Claire had little choice.
When she went in search of Emma, she found her sitting on her bed reading a book. She was wearing something from the hospital’s store of children’s outfits, a bit too big for her. It made her look like a refugee.
‘Hi.’
Emma studied her mum’s expression. ‘Can we go home now?’
Claire smiled. ‘I’ve organised a car.’
Emma slid off the bed and came for a hug.
‘I promise to stay on the road this time,’ said Claire.
She had a fleeting recollection of the figure that had caused her to swerve, and a shiver ran down her spine. The detective had listened to her explanation as to why she’d left the road, but although he’d taken down a description, he hadn’t looked convinced. Claire decided not to think about it or mention it again. Especially not to Emma. One thing she was sure of, the figure on the road had not been Nick.
A shadow crossed the little girl’s face. ‘Gran’s dead.’
‘What?’ Claire had been so busy worrying about getting Emma home, she’d almost forgotten her mother.
‘When I fell asleep in the car, I dreamt she died.’
Claire hugged the girl to her and kissed the top of her head.
‘I’ll call the hospice.’
‘Your mother passed away at six thirty p.m. last night.’
It was, almost to the moment, the time she’d turned on the radio to listen to the weather warnings.
‘We tried calling you . . .’
‘I was in a car accident. My mobile was damaged.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. You’re all right, I hope?’
‘I banged my head and lost my memory for a bit.’
The hospice nurse murmured a few more condolences, then added: ‘Your mother made all the arrangements for her funeral when she came to us. You don’t have to rush over. Give me a call tomorrow.’
Her mother had made all the arrangements, probably even written the funeral invitations. It was so like her. ‘I don’t want to be a burden’ was her motto.
Emma looked up as she re-entered the room. Claire had expected tears, but her daughter didn’t look upset. Not the way she’d been the previous night.
‘Gran’s OK, Mummy. She told me.’
‘When did she tell you?’
‘When I was in the woods.’
The look of conviction on the child’s face made Claire uneasy, but she decided to play along.
‘Granny will be in heaven, bossing everyone about.’
‘She’s not there yet,’ Emma corrected her firmly, ‘but she says she soon will be.’
It was difficult to believe they were travelling the same route. In broad daylight the moor looked
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