Chapter 37 Freya
FREYA
I could have done this over the phone, but I want to see Maria’s face when I tell her the charity is going to give her the money to go to America.
I’d suggested we meet in the privacy of Unicorn House, as I suspect tears are going to flow—mine even more than hers—but she’s at the hospital in Cheltenham with Harry this morning, so it’s easier to catch her in town afterward.
I’m early, so I order a coffee and open my laptop to see if there’s anything more on the Marcus Harding story.
The stock photo that the media have been running for the last six months in their attempt to appeal to the guilty conscience of the hit-and-run driver has been replaced with an array of new pictures.
Of Marcus on his wedding day. Of him and his perfect two-point-four family.
Of Harley the dog, who, it’s being reported, still sits by the front door waiting for his master to come home.
Oddly, it’s visualizing this image that I find the most upsetting.
I scan the copy, looking for a formal cause of death, and although there’s nothing to suggest they suspect that anything untoward happened to thwart the progress Marcus was seemingly making, you only have to read between the lines to think they might.
I don’t want to take myself there, but I can’t help but wonder if they’ll trawl the CCTV of the last few weeks. Wondering if they’ll find Charlie stalking the corridors of the hospital, just as they will me. The pair of us looking for a way to put an end to the hold Marcus had over us.
“But you were there,” Charlie had said, the night before last, when the news reader had finally stopped talking.
“Where?” I asked.
“You were at St. George’s Hospital today.”
“How do you know?” I asked, knowing I hadn’t told him which hospital I had my meeting in.
“Because I tracked you,” he said.
“Why were you following me?” My voice was unnervingly calm and controlled, but my insides were churning.
“Because I didn’t trust that you were going where you said you were going.”
“I told you,” I’d said indignantly, not wanting to ask him why. “I had a meeting with a consultant.”
“You didn’t tell me it was at the very same hospital that Marcus Harding was in.”
“I didn’t realize I needed to.”
Charlie’s jaw had spasmed. “So it was just a coincidence?”
“Are you suggesting it was something more?” I dared to ask, staring at him.
Maria’s number flashes on my phone and I snatch it up from the table, grateful for the reprieve from the deafening accusations that are resounding in my head.
“Hi, how is it going?”
Maria lets out a defeated sigh. “His bloods aren’t quite where they want them, it looks like they might keep him in.”
My heart physically hurts as I imagine little Harry laid up with tubes and needles attached to him.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“It’s just all par for the course,” says Maria wearily. “This is what he has to deal with. Living week by week, not knowing what the next day is going to throw at him.” Her voice cracks. “It would have given him such a lift to see you. He’s drawn you a picture and everything.”
I choke back tears. “Do you want me to come up to the hospital? We could grab a cup of coffee, give you a break for ten minutes.”
“Ah, I would love nothing more, but I really need to stay with Harry right now. He’s such a brave boy who rarely complains, but blood work is his least favorite, so he needs his mum.”
“Well, maybe I’ve got something that might cheer him up,” I say.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“How about a trip to Alabama?”
There’s a stunned silence at the other end of the line.
“Maria?”
“Are you … are you serious?” she cries. “Really?”
I smile. “We’re able to fund your expenses for the trial, and if they feel Harry’s a suitable candidate, then we should be able to cover the initial course of treatment as well.”
Loud sobs sound out down the line, and I can only hope Harry can’t see her and confuse her joy with sadness.
“I just … I just don’t know what to say. I’m completely blown away.…”
“It’s the very least he deserves. You too.”
“God, next time I see you, I’m going to hug you so hard,” she cries.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, smiling. “But in the meantime, can you send me your bank account details?”