Before I Wake (16 page)

New, hot, desperate tears spilled onto my cheeks as I shook my head. “No.”

James leaned nearer. “Say that again.”

I shook my head again. “No. No, I’m not happy. I’ve never been more miserable. I’ve missed you. I still miss you. I miss you every night when I go to bed and every morning when I wake up.”

“Oh, Suzy.” James gathered me into his arms and pressed my head against my chest. “Oh, Suzy, my Suzy, my one true love. I’ll never let you go again. Never, never, never. I’ll never let you go.”

I kept my cheek pressed into his sweater and my arms around his waist for the longest possible time, only opening my eyes briefly as the sound of high heels clack-clacking across the foyer floor filled the air and Maggie strode through the open double doors and disappeared onto the street. Then I closed my eyes again.

“Okay, Charlotte, I’m just going to lift your nightdress to clean your legs.”

Two of the nurses, Kimberley and Chris, are giving Charlotte a wash when I arrive at the hospital. I offer to leave but they shake their heads and tell me they’re nearly done.

“Now we’ll do your teeth.”

I watch as Kimberley gently parts Charlotte’s lips and inserts a white stick with a small, square pink sponge on the end into her mouth. It reminds me of one of the penny sweets I’d buy as a child, a square, chewy lolly on a stick.

“Just wiping it around your mouth,” Kimberley says as she leans over my daughter and gently maneuvers the “toothbrush” around the contours of Charlotte’s mouth. “And over your teeth and tongue.”

Oli was surprised when I told him that the nurses clean Charlotte’s teeth. “But she doesn’t eat anything,” he said. “She’s drip fed, isn’t she?” I told him it was for hygiene reasons. I didn’t mention the scent of death and decay and gingivitis that hits me sometimes if I kiss her on the lips. It’s a smell so rotten you have to hold your breath not to gag. Charlotte, who’s always been so fastidious about hygiene, would be devastated if she knew. Not that I’ll ever tell her. There are some things she never needs to know when she wakes up.

“We’re just going to change your catheters and then you’re done,” they tell Charlotte as they raise her blanket and reach beneath the bed. I instinctively avert my eyes, not because I’m squeamish but because I know how mortified she would be if she knew I’d watched the waste being removed from her body. Before her accident, she wouldn’t even let me mention the word “diaper” without throwing a cushion at me and forbidding me from talking about “gross stuff” to do with her babyhood.

“Okay, Sue?” Kimberley nods at me as she pushes the gurney toward the door. “I’ll be back later. We can catch up.”

“Hi, Sue.” Chris touches me softly on the forearm as he follows her. There’s compassion in his eyes, even though his tone can be brusque. I see it in the eyes of all the nurses, particularly the mothers. There but for the grace of God go I, and all that.

“Thank you,” I say as they leave the room, pulling the door closed behind them. “Thank you so much.”

“Hello, darling.” I pull up a chair so I’m sitting as close to Charlotte as I can. “Mummy’s here. How are you feeling today?”

I reach for her hand, press it to my lips, and close my eyes. In a few minutes, I’ll ask her about Grey’s nightclub and the footballer, but I need to spend some quiet time with my child first. I need to know how she is.

***

“Hello?” I press the buzzer and peer up at the CCTV camera half a meter above my head. “I’m here to see Danny Argent.”

The door entry system crackles then falls silent again. I step back from the door and crane my neck upward. The neon sign spelling out Breeze over the door is gray and ugly without the fizz of electricity sparking it to neon life. I’ve never set foot in this nightclub. I haven’t set foot in
any
nightclub for over twenty years. James forbade me from going to bars or discos when we were together. They were meat markets where sluts went for sex, he said, not where monogamous people in relationships hung out. I tried telling him that my single friends weren’t sluts and that I wasn’t going clubbing to cheat on him but to have fun and dance to the music. That’s when he reminded me about the conversation we had on our second date when I’d admitted to having five one-night stands. “You told me you met two of them in a nightclub, Sue,” he’d said. There was nothing I could say to that.

A minute passes, then another, and I buzz again. I’m starting to think that this was a stupid idea. It’s 5:00 p.m.; of course there isn’t going to be anyone in a nightclub at this time of day, but I had to come. I need to know more about the footballer Charlotte met in London. I need to know what he did to her.

I press the buzzer again. “Danny. It’s Sue Jackson. Could you let me in, please. It’s really very important that we speak.”

I press it again thirty seconds later and repeat my request, then bang on the door with my fist and listen.

Nothing.

There are no windows to peer through and no letter box to rattle. I was resting everything on the hope that Danny might be in his office doing paperwork, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is in, not even the cleaner. I reach into my handbag and pull out my mobile. I’m just about to call Oli when—“Sue? What are you doing here?” The speaker above the buzzer crackles to life. “I’ll buzz you in.”

***

“So, Sue.” Danny places two steaming cups of coffee, complete with saucers and tiny Italian biscotti, on the white resin table and pats the velveteen seat beside him. There are half a dozen booths exactly like this one running across two walls of the club. There are three small poofs, decorated in an identical deep red velveteen material, around the resin tables, making enough space to seat six. I can almost imagine how this booth will look in three or four hours’ time—rammed with friends, clinking glasses, downing shots, shouting, laughing, and scanning the dance floor for talent. It’s been years since the smoking ban was introduced, but the air still smells musty, the unique nightclub blend of cigarettes, spilt drinks, and sweat.

I perch beside Danny. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

“No problem at all. Any mum of Oliver’s is a mum of mine.” He laughs and places his hands on the back of his head, pushing out his elbows in an exaggerated stretch which makes his broad chest appear even broader. An effect, I’m sure, that’s not entirely unintended.

“So.” He lowers his arms and twists to face me, giving me his full attention. “This is all very mysterious. Tell all!”

With his bright blue eyes, wide generous smile, and strong jaw, I can see why Keisha—why most young women—would find him irresistible. There’s no doubt that he’s an attractive young man, but his gaze is that little bit too piercing and his smile a little too arched to be genuine. I’ve never been alone with Danny before, and now I’m starting to understand why Brian doesn’t trust him.

“The thing is,” I say, “I recently found out that Charlotte and Ella skipped a school trip.”

Danny laughs, then catches himself. “Sorry. That was immature of me. You must have been furious, Sue.”

“Not really.” I reach for my coffee, bristling as I take a sip. “Although I might be with the person who encouraged them to skip.”

“Oh.” He looks intrigued, like I’m about to share some wonderful piece of gossip with him. “Who’s that then?”

I peer at him over the rim. “You.”

“Me?” His hand flies to his chest. “Me?” He tosses back his head and laughs, but when he checks my reaction, the smile has gone from his eyes. “That’s ridiculous, Sue. Whoever told you that obviously has a screw loose.”

“Or they were there too.”

“What?” Beads of sweat shine in his immaculate hairline, and he runs a hand over his forehead. “Who? This is ridiculous. I’m a nightclub promoter, not some kind of…some kind of weirdo encouraging schoolgirls to play hooky.”

I place my cup of coffee back on the table. It slips back into its saucer without rattling. “So you’ve never heard of Grey’s nightclub in London then?”

“Grey’s in Chelsea?” He sits up straighter. He’s on safer ground here. “Of course I have. It’s my job to know what’s hot and what’s not.”

“Is that why you encouraged Charlotte and Ella to skip their school trip and go there instead? Because it’s
hot
?”

“Of course not. I didn’t encourage anyone to go anywhere. Why would I? It’s not my club. And besides, I barely even know Charlotte. She’s Oli’s little sister.” He looks me straight in the eye. “I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, Mrs. Jackson.”

“What’s that, Danny?”

“That I…that Charlotte and I were somehow involved.”

“Were you?”

“God no.” He clutches his chest again, but this time I’m tempted to believe him. “Never. Like I said, she’s Oli’s kid sister. I’d never look at her that way. Besides, I’m with Keisha.”

“I see.” I glance around the nightclub, taking in the empty DJ booth, the sprawling dance floor, and the sparkling bar. “But you still thought it would be fun to take the girls clubbing in London.”

“No! Why would I do that? What would I possibly gain out of taking two fifteen-year-olds clubbing?” He suddenly becomes very still, very collected. “Is that what you’re implying? That I’m some kind of kiddie pervert? Because if you are—”

“I’m not implying anything. I just want the truth. I’ve been told that you and Keisha were in Grey’s nightclub in Chelsea with Charlotte and Ella on Friday, March 9. Look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t.” His gaze doesn’t so much as flicker. “I wasn’t even in London that weekend. I took Keish on a romantic getaway to”—his eyes dart to the left—“Oxford.”

He’s lying through his teeth, but giving him the third degree isn’t going to achieve anything. He’ll just keep lying. James was the same.

I glance at my watch. I’ve got fifteen minutes to get home before Brian.

“Well…” I hold out my hand. “Thank you so much for the coffee and the chat.”

Danny frowns. “You’re off?”

“Yes.”

“So you…you’re okay?” He stands up. “You believe me when I say I didn’t go clubbing with Charlotte and Ella?” He bears his teeth in an exaggerated smile. “You’ve obviously got the wrong man.”

I smile. “See you again soon, Danny. I’ll see myself out.”

***

I hurry to the exit before he can follow me and twist the handle to open the side door. I’m just about to yank it open when—ooph!—it flies open, sending me reeling backward against the wall.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t see you there. I—oh!” A face appears around the door. “Mrs. Jackson. What are you doing here?”

“Keisha?”

“Here.” She steps around the door, closing it behind her so I’m no longer trapped between it and the wall. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

I grasp my stomach. “Just a bit winded. I’ll be okay in a bit.”

“Let’s get you outside. Some fresh air will soon see you right.”

We perch on the concrete step together, its narrowness forcing us to sit unnaturally close.

Keisha rummages in her handbag and pulls out a crumpled packet of Marlboro Lights and a lighter. She waves them at me. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead.”

I watch as she tweezers a cigarette out of the pack with her long nails. She lights it and inhales deeply. Twenty years since I last smoked and I can still remember what that first sweet hit of nicotine feels like when you’re desperate for a cig.

“Want one?” She catches me watching and holds out the pack.

“I don’t smoke.” I change my mind immediately. “Actually, I will. Thank you.”

I put the cigarette in my mouth, relishing the way it feels so foreign and so familiar at the same time. Keisha lights it for me and I inhale deeply. The smoke scratches the back of my throat. I take another drag. It tastes strong, chemicallike, and hot, and I’m reminded of the first cigarette I ever smoked, back in 1984, when I was fifteen. I lean back against the door and close my eyes as the nicotine fizzes through me. The cigarette tastes foul but the ritual—lift to mouth, inhale, hold, exhale, lower—and the buzz of nicotine is comforting.

Keisha says something I don’t catch and I open my eyes. “Sorry?”

She tips back her head and blows a perfect gray smoke ring into the air. “I said I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The smoke ring grows wider and thinner until it breaks up and disappears.

I say the first thing that comes into my head. “I came to see Danny about a surprise party. It’s Oli’s twentieth soon.”

“What a lovely idea.” Keisha’s face lights up. “No one’s ever thrown a surprise party for me. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a birthday party. I must have been little. Eight, maybe nine.” She looks wistful for a second, then smiles again. “Are you going to hold it at Breeze then, Oli’s party?”

“Actually, I was considering Grey’s nightclub in London. I wanted Danny’s opinion.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I’ve been there. It’s the shit. Expensive though. Seven pounds fifty for a rum and coke!”

“I know, but Oli’s been through a lot recently and we wanted it to be special.” I puff on my cigarette, hold the smoke in my lungs for a couple of seconds, and then exhale. “Charlotte was the one who recommended Grey’s. Before her accident,” I add quickly when Keisha’s eyes widen in surprise. “She said it was amazing, that she went there with you and Danny.”

“It was.” She flicks her cigarette into the gutter. The tip glows for a second then turns gray and goes out. “Poshest club I’ve ever been to. There’s a woman in the toilets who’ll rub hand cream into your hands if you pay her a pound. She’ll squirt you with perfume too if you want. She’s got loads of different types.”

“Really?” I smile encouragingly. I have to play this carefully. If I spook her, she’ll clam up. “Charlotte said a lot of famous types hang out there too.”

“They do.” She wraps her slender arms around her knees and pulls them close to her chest. The sun is starting to go down and there’s a chill in the air. “Pop stars, soap stars, footballers. You don’t really get to mingle with them though because they sit in the roped-off VIP bit.”

I drop my cigarette onto the pavement and grind it out with the heel of my boot. “So how did Charlotte get to meet her footballer then, if the famous people are kept separate from everyone else?”

Keisha looks at me in surprise. “She told you about him?”

“Of course. We’re very close. We tell each other everything.”

“Wow.” She raises an eyebrow. “So Charlotte told you some of what happened that night then?”

I nod. I don’t trust what will happen if I open my mouth to lie.

She searches my face. “And you didn’t go mental?”

“No.” I try and keep my breathing slow and measured, but my heart is racing from the cigarette. This could be it. This could be the moment I find out what caused Charlotte to step in front of the bus. “Why would I?”

An empty Coke can clatters against the pavement at the far end of the alley. Keisha and I both jump, but there’s no one there.