Chapter 82
EIGHTY-TWO
Nancy came off the phone to the hospital. Beth was still in ICU. There was no change to her unresponsive state, but she was what the staff were calling ‘stable’.
Martin had told her that Beth had decided to drive over to Ripton to see her in all the snow – the same time Nancy had been trying to get out.
Beth had made it to the road into the village when she’d lost control of her car and smashed into a tree.
The paramedics thought it had been almost an hour before another car had driven past and called for help.
Beth had suffered a brain injury and was in a coma.
The doctors were hopeful – she could breathe on her own – but she was showing no signs of awareness.
When Nancy had asked Martin why Beth was driving over on such a precarious day, he’d become evasive.
Said something about how she had wanted to see if Nancy was OK.
He didn’t need to spell it out – Nancy knew her friend had made the effort because of their last phone call, when she’d been so upset about the newspaper article.
Martin didn’t say that because he didn’t want her to feel guilty.
Nancy knew how physically close they’d been to each other as they tried to get to one another. The place where Beth had had her accident was only half a mile from the point where Nancy had had to turn back. She knew the bend in the road, knew the tree. They’d been minutes from each other.
Nancy gazed out of the window feeling trapped.
She was desperate to go and visit Beth, but the snow was still too deep to get out of the village – and who would look after Lara?
It was the half-term holidays and so there was no school.
She’d told Lara about the accident but had played it down.
Then prayed to a greater being that Beth would recover soon.
She didn’t dare think about an alternative.
It would break her, break Lara. She called in to check on Beth daily, only to be told there was no change, and the fear and isolation grew.
After a few days playing in the snow in the garden and watching movies at home, Nancy needed to go out to get some groceries.
She wasn’t looking forward to it but if she wanted to eat, she had no choice.
They both put on their warmest coats and boots and set off down the lane, crumping through the snow.
It reached two or three feet in the drifts and Lara ran up and down, getting more than her fair share of snow in her wellies.
As they walked along the high street one of the shop doors opened just ahead of them. Nancy looked up, too late to avoid the person who came out. Her stomach tightened; she couldn’t deal with Imogen, not at the moment.
Imogen didn’t notice Nancy at first. She had her dog on a lead by her side and was too engrossed in expressing her gratitude to the vet, who was standing next to her.
So the dog had made a recovery, thought Nancy, relieved. For the dog, especially. Whatever was going on in this village, it had managed to escape the fate of some of its fellow pups.
She was just wondering how she could get past without being noticed when a voice cried out behind her.
‘Oh, thank goodness!’
Nancy turned to see Hazel trudging up the pavement, making a beeline for Imogen and Arthur. At the same time, Imogen’s face darkened as soon as she clocked Nancy.
‘You poor thing, are you OK?’ said Hazel, bending down to stroke the retriever.
‘He’s fine, thanks to this amazing lady’s intervention,’ said Imogen, smiling at the vet. ‘Thanks again, Stephanie.’
‘What was it?’ asked Hazel, all concern.
‘Some sort of poison. Same as the other dogs.’
Nancy could hear everything – as she suspected they knew.
‘What crazy monster would do such a thing?’ asked Hazel.
Nancy bristled. She was torn between wanting to get as far away as possible and being rooted to the ground, waiting to hear if they damned her in public.
‘Can I give him a treat?’ continued Hazel, digging into her pocket for her tin.
‘Sure,’ said Imogen.
‘He deserves it, after his ordeal,’ said Hazel, and Nancy wasn’t sure if she was imagining it but thought Hazel’s voice had raised in volume – for her benefit, perhaps. She was considering going over to them, challenging them both when she heard Stephanie speak.
‘What’s that?’
‘Treats,’ said Hazel, opening the tin. ‘Organic chicken flavour.’
‘No,’ said Stephanie. ‘I mean the white stuff.’
Nancy saw Stephanie had taken the tin from Hazel and was examining a treat she’d plucked out.
Hazel looked bemused for a moment, then realized. ‘I spilled my sweetener,’ she said. ‘You know, cutting down on the sugar. Doctor’s orders.’
‘Sweetener?’
‘You can’t tell the difference, you know. And I can drink as many teas as I like.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Xylitol. I only remember because it sounds like xylophone.’
‘Stop,’ instructed Stephanie urgently as Hazel went to post a treat into the dog’s ready mouth.
Hazel stood up straight. ‘Pardon?’
‘It’s poisonous to dogs. Xylitol.’
‘It is?’ said Hazel, her face slack.
‘Very. The tiniest amount can be fatal. Did you . . . sorry to ask this, Hazel, but did you by any chance give Arthur a treat last Wednesday?’
Hazel was floundering, her mouth opening and closing like a shored fish. She looked from Stephanie to Imogen in desperation.
‘I think you did,’ said Imogen carefully. ‘Two. By Heron Water Cafe.’
‘Oh my goodness, I think you’re right.’ Hazel visibly crumpled.
‘And have you been feeding treats to other dogs around the village?’ Stephanie asked gravely.
Nancy didn’t hear Hazel’s answer, but she didn’t need to. Imogen told her everything when she looked up at her.
Nancy returned her gaze, eyes steady. Then, head held high, she took Lara’s hand and crossed the road.