Chapter Eleven
Ollie, Ben and I sit in the waiting room in the Accident and Emergency department.
My hair is straggly and wet down my back, soaking through my quickly pulled-on sweater and jeans.
We all dressed in a hurry when the ambulance arrived, while keeping an eye on Liv, who could barely speak.
She cried and cried and cried, and the paramedics insisted that she go to hospital.
She went willingly, baffled as to what had happened to her. Not comprehending any of it.
Ben’s expression is fixed on the floor while he chews the inside of his cheek. ‘What happened? How did she get down there?’ he asks, not for the first time.
‘I don’t know,’ I say, not for the first time.
‘I didn’t see it – didn’t see her go down. Did she dive? Hit her head? Did she just …? What did she do? How did she drown?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply again in a small voice and then I cry. I can’t help it. ‘Liv was tired and she’d had three Mimosas. I don’t think she’d eaten much.’
‘Someone should ring her parents,’ Ben says, too dazed to notice I’m crying. ‘Do you have their number?’
I shake my head and look at Ollie, but he’s not moving. His head is in his hands.
‘Ollie?’ I ask.
He lifts his head, drags his gaze towards me, a haunted look in his eyes. I’m in the middle of them both and I put my hand on his leg to comfort him, as he’s jiggling it up and down. His leg stills, but the frightened look never leaves him. What a mess.
‘Do you have her parents’ number?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he whispers in a breath so quiet I can barely hear him. It’s the only thing he’s said since we got here.
‘OK,’ I reply, trying to stop myself from crying any more. It’s doing no good. Liv’s phone must still be by her sun-lounger and no one’s home to go and fetch it, try to ring her emergency contact. Ben’s parents have gone to the pantomime in London and he can’t get hold of them.
‘It’s OK,’ Ben says. ‘It’ll be OK. Liv’s awake. She’s all right.’
I think he’s telling himself this. ‘I know,’ I say stupidly. ‘We can ring her parents when we get home. Or your parents can, if they get back before we do.’
‘I’m going back to yours,’ Ollie says, suddenly alert. ‘I’ll get her phone, I’ll ring her parents. It’s my fault she’s here anyway.’
‘What?’ I ask in confusion, wiping tears from my face.
‘OK,’ Ben says, ignoring Ollie’s outburst, handing him his own set of door keys. ‘We’ll let you know what the doctors say … if we ever see them again, that is. Where the fuck has everyone gone? Why is no one keeping us updated?’
‘You should stay,’ I tell Ollie. ‘You’re her boyfriend. You stay.’
‘Actually, Aurora’s right,’ Ben says. ‘I’ll go back to mine. I’ll get her phone. I’ll make the call. I’ll talk to her parents. It happened at my house, for fuck’s sake. I can’t believe it, I still can’t believe it. This is a fucking nightmare.’
I can only give Ben a sad smile. It is a fucking nightmare.
Our friend nearly died. Ben kisses the top of my head and then tells me he’ll call me for an update when he gets back to his house.
He wants to be able to give Liv’s parents the most recent info about their daughter, who has only been away from home for a few months and has just survived drowning.
Before he goes, he crouches down and looks into Ollie’s eyes. ‘Mate … she’ll be OK. She is OK. Being here – this is only a precaution.’
Ollie nods, his expression still one of shock and disbelief.
Ben gives me a concerned look and mouths, ‘Keep an eye on him’ before he leaves A&E in the direction of the taxi rank.
I look at Ollie and want to say something to him, something comforting, but a doctor emerges to talk to us and we stand up while we’re given reasons why Liv is lucky to be alive. It’s clear we’re being viewed as a bunch of idiotic students.
Afterwards we go and see Liv, and Ollie doesn’t speak, barely looks at her. I do all the talking, telling Liv how much we love her, how frightened we were, how we’re so happy she’s OK, which is obviously a huge understatement. She looks awful: white, her damp hair hanging limp and tangled.
‘We’ve been so worried about you,’ I tell her. ‘Ben went home to get your phone, find your parents’ number and call them.’
‘The doctors have already done that. I asked them to.’
‘Good. I imagine they’ll want to come and see you – check with their own eyes that you’re really fine.’ I hold her hand, which is cold and droopy.
Liv nods.
I try not to cry again as my mind flashes back to her dangling from Ben’s grasp, unconscious, lifeless in the water.
Her eyes search for Ollie’s, but he’s still not looking at her.
I feel the need to leave them alone, let them say whatever it is they need to say.
I’m intruding. ‘I’m going to ring Ben, tell him you’re OK, which he knew you would be.
Then I’ll fetch us all some tea from the machine.
’ I bend and do to Liv what Ben did to me – kiss the top of her cold, damp hair – and then I give Ollie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
The boy needs to speak now. He needs to say something, anything. But not to me. To Liv.
I exit the room, leave them to it and go in search of the vending machine and a quiet corridor from which to ring Ben.