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  Clearly, Sophie was painfully ill-prepared for this situation. It was not that she was a particularly naïve person, it was just that she had always trusted Jonah; trusted him in a way that caused her never to have suspected adultery. As she pursued her abandoning partner, she became so overwhelmed by the mix of revelation and emotion that she was barely capable of functioning and as she hurried, shoeless, down the two doorsteps and across the pavement towards him, she felt her twisted ankle fail her. Pointlessly, she grasped the air ahead of her, tripped and stumbled forward. Unable to cancel her increasing momentum, she tumbled down the kerb towards Jonah, the whole weight of her small frame impacting his shoulder. Jonah spun round to push her away but was thrown off balance by the weight of his suitcase as it pivoted back against his elbow. As Sophie’s arms folded around his chest and his hands flailed around her, lifting her and hugging her in an attempt to pull himself back, he too began to tumble. Trapped in their inappropriate embrace, they both fell heavily backwards towards the traffic and dangerously close to the path of an oncoming petrol tanker. The dismayed driver overreacted, swerved, narrowly missed an oncoming cab and came to a standstill just by the traffic lights. His frantic reaction caused a sequence of insurance-worthy bumper collisions, a bruised cyclist and a buckled bicycle wheel, but it had guaranteed a safe distance between the wheels of his tanker and the plummeting couple.

  Unfortunately, though they were saved from a crushing end, all was not well. With Sophie’s weight added to his own, Jonah’s trajectory towards the ground had been harsh and unstoppable and all that had prevented his head striking the unforgiving road surface was the sharp corner of his toolbox, which he had removed from the boot and placed behind him to make room for his case. Sophie both heard and felt Jonah’s skull break as she landed on top of him. Automatically, she pushed away from him and felt herself roll off and down towards the gutter just as Jonah’s suitcase landed beside the toolbox, burst open and emptied its contents over Jonah’s unconscious body. A young woman on the pavement screamed and fell back onto Sophie’s steps. Horns sounded. Someone yelled.

  Sophie lay still. She could smell the warm, dirty tar of the road beneath her cheek. She could hear shouting and car alarms. She tried to remember what was happening. Pulled herself up. She didn’t think she was hurt. Just her ankle. Jonah was lying a short distance away. His head was covered in shirts and socks but she knew it was him. He wasn’t moving. Somebody touched her hand and told her not to move. She glanced up to see the driver of the tanker leap down from his cab and hurry over. He threw himself onto his knees, started to pull away the contents of the case to investigate Jonah, uncovered his head and instantly vomited over Jonah’s outstretched arm. With the shroud removed, Sophie could see a thick pool of blood collecting beneath Jonah’s neck and running with the camber of the road towards her. His face was turned away from her but she could make out one of his ears with an attached patch of scalp lying on the road just beyond his head. She felt a numbing wave rise through her, felt someone’s arm around her encouraging her to turn away. She tried to resist but she was made of nothing. ‘Is he all right?’ she asked the arm that was holding her.

  ‘There’s an ambulance on its way,’ said someone.

  ‘He’s still breathing,’ said someone else.

  Moments passed. Sophie watched Jonah from her sitting position. He continued to not move. The pool of blood stopped getting bigger and started to seep into the dry road surface. Blood that ought to have been inside Jonah. A police car arrived and parked in front of the BMW. One of the police officers pulled out a blanket and arranged it over Jonah’s legs. Another officer led the distressed lorry driver to the patrol car, radioed for assistance, then hurried over to deal with the traffic that was building up on both sides of the road.

  Sirens drew closer then stopped abruptly as an ambulance manoeuvred its way into the space behind the truck. Yellow-clad people leapt out and ran to investigate. One yellow man assessed Sophie then joined the others who were tending to Jonah. She couldn’t see what they were doing to him. A policeman squatted beside her, took down details: ‘Jonah Royston… 39… 76 Tanner Street… Sophie… will he be all right?’

  Passers-by had congregated. Some of them were now managing to divert their attention away from the carnage and were taking the opportunity to glance in through Sophie’s open door, others were peering in through her lounge window. Some responsible parents overcame their desire to look and pulled their children away.

  Assisted by the gentle breeze, some of the lighter items of Jonah’s clothing were now dispersing themselves across the carriageway. Sophie could see Jonah’s green corduroy jeans emerging from under an ambulance wheel. His library book had flapped open and the slip of paper that was marking his place was spiralling away towards the traffic lights. A second police car arrived. Two more officers, one man, one woman. Sophie felt herself being helped to her feet, encouraged towards her front door. She resisted. The female officer squeezed her hand. ‘They’ll take care of him. We need to get you inside.’

  Sophie turned. Jonah was on a stretcher. He was being lifted into the ambulance. She checked the ground around the toolbox to make sure they hadn’t overlooked his ear and his tuft of hair. Jonah had always been very vain about his thick, black hair.

  ‘Why can’t I go with him?’

  ‘They’ll be working… helping him en route to A&E. We’ll follow on after,’ said the policeman. ‘Let’s get you some shoes first, shall we? Have you injured your foot?’

  ‘I twisted my ankle.’

  ‘Are you alone in the house?’ said the policewoman.

  ‘Yes. I want to go with him.’

  * * *

  They walked towards Sophie’s front door, Sophie between the two officers, slowly to accommodate her ankle. The crowd fell back, silent. The young woman who’d screamed was still sitting on Sophie’s top step, rubbing her eyes repeatedly, as if she was trying to suck the images back out of her mind along the same route that they had entered. She jumped up as they approached, pushed her dark hair away from her face. ‘The suitcase fell on them and pushed them over,’ she said.

  ‘Did you see that happen?’ said the policeman.

  ‘Yes.’ She handed him a scribbled-on business card. ‘That’s my mobile number.’ Her hand was shaking. She looked at Sophie. ‘Can I do anything? Make tea or something?’

  * * *

  Sophie allowed herself to be led up into her hallway and on into the kitchen, watched the woman from the step filling the kettle, the female officer fetching her shoes. The other officer stepped back into the street to see if anyone else had witnessed the incident, but apart from the tanker driver who was already making a statement, nobody had seen what happened other than the woman from the step, because these things happen so fast. So, he organised the recovery of Jonah’s belongings and the removal of his car from the double yellow lines then stepped back inside to make a few calls. Sophie tried to hear what he was saying, but her head was still full of car alarms and the sound of Jonah’s skull imploding.

  ‘I’m Sally Browning,’ said the policewoman. ‘Sophie, is there anyone that could accompany you to the hospital? A friend? A family member? Is there a neighbour I could fetch?’

  Sophie tried to think. She wanted her mother, but she was gone. ‘My sister, Josie, lives in Cork. I could phone my friend, Katie, but she’ll be at work. And Mrs Davies next door is on holiday. All month. The other side is students, but they’ve gone home for the summer.’

  ‘What about your husband’s family?’

  ‘He doesn’t have any family. And… we’re not married.’

  ‘I could come with you,’ interrupted the woman from the step. She offered Sophie a mug of tea. ‘I’m Suzie… Kay.’

  Sophie opened her mouth to reply just as a high-pitched scream came reverberating through the hallway. Officer Browning glanced towards the stairs. ‘Is there a…?’

  2

  ‘Laura!’ Sophie leapt up, pushed the mug
away, causing dollops of tea to explode upwards, and ran into the hallway but, just through the door, her ankle failed her yet again. The already-startled police officer turned from looking up the stairs, dropped his phone and caught Sophie as she stumbled towards him. He lowered her onto the floor as his colleague hurried to help.

  ‘I’ll go up, Pete,’ said Officer Browning. ‘Sophie, let Officer Clark take you back to your chair. Shall I bring Laura downstairs?’

  ‘Yes. Please.’

  Suzie Kay hurried into the hallway clutching a tea towel. ‘There’s a baby?’

  ‘I forgot about her.’ Her eyes wide with desperation, Sophie watched Officer Browning disappearing up the stairs, Officer Clark checking his phone and retrieving her gardening scissors from beneath the radiator. ‘Suzie, I forgot about her.’

  ‘No, you… You’ve had a bad shock.’ Suzie helped lead Sophie back to her chair.

  ‘I’d get them to look at that ankle,’ said Officer Clark, returning to the hall to communicate this latest development.

  Sophie clutched at her stomach. ‘What if I’d gone in the ambulance and she’d been left on her own?’

  Suzie Kay crouched down and took Sophie’s hands in hers. ‘You mustn’t think such things. She’s called Laura, right? What a lovely name. How old is she?’

  ‘Eleven months.’ Sophie took a deep breath. ‘Jonah wanted her to be called Laura. It was his mother’s name.’ She could feel Suzie Kay’s fingers touching hers. Clean and soft. Her own fingers were still covered in a film of pulped tomato leaves. ‘She needs her lunch. My hands are filthy.’

  ‘I’ll get a cloth. Are you still feeding her?’

  ‘Only before bedtime.’

  Suzie Kay fetched a damp cloth, waited as Sophie wiped her hands and exchanged it for some kitchen towel.

  Sophie looked up into Suzie’s dark brown eyes. ‘Jonah was leaving me,’ she said. ‘When will I know what’s happening?’

  ‘They’ll let you know.’

  ‘What about his ear? It was lying in the road. And some of his hair.’

  ‘Yes, I… They can stick ears back on. It’s just skin and cartilage.’

  ‘Are you a nurse?’ said Sophie, grasping at the possibility of things returning to the way they were.

  ‘No. But my mum had a dog with a stitched-on ear.’ An abrupt, nervous laugh. ‘I work in a travel company. In Guildford. This is my day off.’ She glanced up. ‘Here comes Officer Browning with your baby.’

  * * *

  With Suzie Kay’s help, Laura was lunched and settled in her playpen in the lounge. The two officers stepped in to join them. ‘Mr Royston has been transferred to Southampton General,’ explained Constable Clark. ‘He’s being taken straight to theatre. Transport is being arranged, Ms…?’

  ‘Denham. Sophie Denham.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve explained that there’s a young infant involved. Do you have a child’s car seat that can be transferred? Social Services are unable to supply one at such short notice.’ He handed her Jonah’s car keys. ‘Mr Royston’s car has been parked in the back road. In the correct permit zone. There doesn’t appear to be a child seat inside.’

  ‘Perhaps you have another car?’ suggested Officer Browning.

  ‘I don’t drive. Jonah always removes her seat in case he has to pick up equipment. It’s in the kitchen.’

  Constable Clark turned his attention to Suzie Kay. ‘Ms Kay, if you would be so good as to provide a statement, you can be on your way.’

  Suzie Kay disappeared into the kitchen with the two officers, and for the first time since Jonah’s disastrous exit, Sophie was alone with her daughter. She watched the little girl chewing her sock, oblivious to the unfolding crisis. Only this morning she had been living her normal life, with her ordinary parents living together, like ordinary parents do. And now this. She had no way of understanding the changes this day had forced upon her innocent world. Even if they mended Jonah’s skull, sewed his ear back on and he made a complete recovery, he’d decided to leave them. He’d found someone else. They must have been meeting up for weeks – maybe months – Jonah and this other woman. Spending carnal lunchtimes at her place. Sweaty hotels. Then coming home as if everything was normal. Admittedly, he’d complained about her reduced libido since Laura’s birth, about her getting up in the middle of the night to check Laura was still breathing, but things had been better lately. At least she’d thought they had. She glanced up as Suzie Kay stepped into the room.

  ‘Sophie, would you like me to come to the hospital with you?’

  Sophie longed to say yes, but this poor woman had already been exposed to enough of her catastrophe. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll phone my friend. She lives in Portsmouth. She’ll probably drive over. But, thanks for everything.’

  ‘Glad I could help. Look, this is my mobile number.’ She handed Sophie a business card: Horizon Luxury Travel Services. Suzannah Kay – Consultant. An additional telephone number was scribbled along the bottom. ‘Call me if you need to talk, OK?’

  * * *

  The two officers confirmed that Sophie’s transport would arrive within the hour, then left to confront another of those aberrant things that the police spend their days dealing with. Sophie thanked Suzie once again then hobbled to the front door to watch her cross the road and disappear into the everyday crowd. Things outside seemed to have returned to normal. The petrol tanker was gone and the traffic lights were executing their usual routine, directing cars whose drivers knew nothing of the events barely two hours before. There was nothing that might indicate Jonah’s exit and subsequent misfortune other than some pieces of broken headlight and a few sweepings of sand, cleared into the gutter along with any remaining traces of Jonah’s blood and lorry driver’s vomit, waiting for time to wash it all away. Sophie experienced a stultifying wave of nausea, steadied herself against the doorframe, turned to retreat into her hallway and caught sight of a man loitering by the students’ front window. He was tall, lanky in fact, stooping the way some tall people do, apologetic about their height. He had a buckled wheel in one hand; his other hand was resting on the saddle of a one-wheeled bicycle. He was wearing a crumpled linen suit, light grey, a navy T-shirt, trainers, a bike helmet and bicycle clips. He nodded apologetically as she caught his eye.

  ‘I’m waiting for my brother. The police said the people here were away so… I hope your husband is all right.’

  ‘They’ve transferred him to Southampton. I’m waiting for transport to take me there. An hour, they said.’ She noticed the man’s left eyebrow was red and swollen, forcing his eye to be half-closed. Another wave of nausea rippled through her. ‘Were you hurt?’

  ‘Went over the handlebars.’ A half-smile. ‘Bit of a crash landing. Punched myself in the eye.’

  ‘Oh, did the paramedics see to you?’

  ‘I told them I was OK.’

  Sophie wrung her hands a little, uncertain how to end the conversation, uncertain as to whether she ought to end the conversation. Whether she wanted to end it. If it ended, she would have to go back inside and be alone. Close the door against the sand in the gutter. And wait. ‘Will your brother be long?’ she said.

  ‘He has to pick his sons up from Summer Club. He said he’d be here by five.’

  ‘That’s ages. Do you want to come inside while I wait? I don’t suppose anyone will steal your bike if you leave it there.’

  He looked uncertain.

  ‘I could make a quick cup of tea.’

  ‘That would be great. If it’s not too much bother.’

  ‘It’s no bother. And I could do with the company.’

  * * *

  Sophie tried not to limp as she led the man through her hallway. She wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, asking a stranger into her house. Particularly a tall, broken stranger carrying a bent bicycle wheel, and wearing bicycle clips. But anything was better than being alone. And besides, she’d left the front door wide open. So, she could see her transport arrive… and possibly so that sh
e could grab Laura and make a dash – a limp – for it.

  ‘The name’s Sam,’ he said. ‘Sam Barnes. Did you hurt your foot?’

  ‘I twisted it. Before the accident. I don’t think it’s anything serious. I’m Sophie.’

  He followed her into the kitchen, dithered for a moment then propped his wheel against the back door and removed his helmet. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make the tea.’

  He stepped past her and picked up the kettle and, as he did so, Sophie caught a hint of his aftershave. Fresh and a little spicy. Jonah never used aftershave. Just an electric razor, bland soap and unscented deodorant. And toothpaste that smelled of nothing. She sat down and watched Sam Barnes filling her kettle. ‘I’d better fetch the baby. Laura. I need to get her ready to go to the hospital. I don’t know how long I’ll be there.’

  ‘Ages, probably.’ He glanced back along the hallway. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She’s in the lounge. In her playpen.’

  ‘Are you OK carrying her? With your ankle like that? Do you want me to fetch her? I’m not too mucky. And I’ve had loads of practice.’

  ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘Just my brother’s two. I’ll go get her, shall I? Then I’ll have a look in your freezer. See if I can find a quick fix for your ankle. Before your lift arrives.’ He loped off and returned moments later, carrying Laura and a large, floppy blue bear. ‘She was just dozing off. The bear wanted to come too.’

  ‘She doesn’t usually like strangers.’

  ‘Sensible girl.’

  * * *

  Laura seemed quite happy to be fixed into her highchair by this tall man. She clutched her bear and watched Sam Barnes make tea, hand her mother a mug, then root around in the freezer. Sophie also watched him. She noticed he was in the habit of running his fingers backwards through his blond hair in order to push it away from his eyes. He clearly needed a haircut and possibly a stylist. Jonah had always disapproved of poor grooming.