They sat on the two chairs beside the bed. Cleo took a jar of Bruno’s hair gel from her handbag, along with a brush and comb, and set to work on arranging his hair, as best she could after his surgery, in the meticulously neat way Bruno always wore it.
Grace smiled appreciatively at her, then stared at his son’s face, trying to put out of his mind, for a moment, all the technology around him and attached to him, to both monitor him and keep him — even if only technically — alive.
‘Want me to leave you two alone together for a while?’ Cleo whispered when she had finished.
‘No, thank you for offering,’ he whispered back. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’ He turned back to Bruno. ‘Hey, fella! I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. I love you from the bottom of my heart and even though I didn’t know you until recently, it doesn’t change how strong my feelings for you are. You have taught your stepmum and me so much in such a short time. It’s OK to be a bit different, a bit quirky. But now, my son, you are going to do the most significant thing in your life and we will be forever proud. You are going to give your organs to someone who needs them more than you. You will live forever in them. You will live forever in our hearts and in our minds.’
He and Cleo were sobbing now. ‘Bruno, you have made us so proud and we love you. Now be at peace. Goodnight, sleep well, my love.’
There was no response. Just the constant beeps from around them, beyond the curtains.
Grace stared at Bruno for several minutes, willing his eyes to open, even though he knew it wouldn’t happen. He looked around at the machines again and again, looking for some change, some signal. But nothing.
With tears running down her cheeks, Cleo stood, indicated with her finger for him to stay put, and slipped out through the curtain.
Grace took his son’s motionless right hand. ‘Goodbye, little chap,’ he whispered, his chest heaving. ‘I’m sorry we never had the chance to get to know each other more. I’m sure you’re full of kindness — and life never gave you a chance to show it. But at least we can give you a different kind of chance to show it.’
He broke down crying, his head in his hands.
He was still crying when Cleo returned with Imelda Bray, Charlotte Elizabeth, a doctor and a nurse.
A male voice — the doctor — asked kindly, ‘Are you sure you are ready now, Mr and Mrs Grace?’
A disembodied voice that sounded like it might have been his, said, ‘I guess.’
He looked again at Bruno.
And for the very first time since he had seen his son, over in Munich, Bruno actually looked at peace.
‘We’ll leave you for a few more minutes,’ the doctor said.
A swish of curtains.
Now it was just him and Cleo again. He took Bruno’s tiny hand and entwined his fingers in his. ‘Oh God, why did this have to happen to you?’
Was it his imagination, Grace wondered, but had he felt the tiniest pressure back?
He pressed his face against Bruno’s and sobbed and sobbed.
66
It was shortly after 4 p.m. when Roy Grace drove the Alfa up the bumpy cart track. Approaching the property, he had a sinking feeling when he saw two members of the local press who were obviously waiting to doorstep him for a comment. He drove past them, ignoring them, and pulled up outside their cottage behind Cleo’s Audi TT. He and Cleo had barely spoken a word during the twenty-five-minute drive. Despite the knowledge that Noah and Kaitlynn were inside, their home looked empty to him.
A void.
He stared bleakly out through the windscreen at the bright afternoon and the sheep-like clouds spread across the soft round hill above them. Sights that Bruno would never see again.
As he switched off the engine, Cleo put an arm around his neck and pulled him to her. ‘We must take one positive from all of this, my love,’ she said.
He gave her a baleful look. ‘Yes?’
‘Remember what Bruno told his headmaster?’
‘That he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be a chemist or a dictator?’
‘Yes. Now, maybe, with the organs he donates, he has the chance to be both.’
For the first time in what felt like a long while, Grace cheered a fraction. ‘Yes, at least that’s something.’
‘I loved him as much as if he had been our child, you do know that, don’t you?’
‘I do. You were amazing with him.’
His job phone rang. Glancing at it, he could see it was Glenn Branson calling.
‘Take it,’ she urged.
He shook his head. ‘I need a seriously stiff brandy before I do anything.’
She patted her swollen belly. ‘Me too — I wish. It’s strange, isn’t it — as one life ends, another is just beginning.’
67
Roy Grace never normally felt like a drink before 6 p.m., but today was different. He never normally saw his son dying. He never normally sanctioned the donation of his child’s organs. For the first time in his life he found himself struggling to resist opening the bottle.
He returned Glenn Branson’s call, forty minutes later.
‘How did it all go, boss?’
‘Some other time. What’s your news?’
‘Well — significant. The prison officer has now backtracked on her original opinion.’
‘Meaning?’ Grace pressed.
‘Meaning the sighting of Eden Paternoster on the ferry is dubious, at best.’
‘So we can dismiss it?’
‘Pretty much, boss, yes. Doesn’t take us any further forward.’
‘But at least not backwards.’ Then Grace thought for a moment. ‘Still, we do know she has family connections on the Isle of Wight, so we need to find out who they are and have them interviewed. The fact that we are discounting this particular sighting doesn’t necessarily mean, should she still be alive, she hasn’t gone there by other means. There’s a car ferry and a catamaran, and there’s a small airport at Sandown — in the absence of a body, we need to establish for certain she’s not there. Have one of the team speak to the local police there and see if they can help us out with that.’
‘I’ll put someone on it.’
‘Good— OK, so we now focus back on Niall Paternoster as the prime suspect in a “no body” murder investigation?’
‘I think that’s the right call,’ Branson said. ‘I’ve spoken to the ACC, who sends his thoughts and prayers for Bruno’s recovery.’
‘Yup, well you can tell him it’s a bit late for that now.’
There was a long silence. Branson finally broke it. ‘Oh God, Roy — shit — boss — are you saying what I think?’
‘Bruno didn’t make it. There was no miracle.’
After a long silence, Branson said, ‘I’m so sorry, Roy. Want to talk about it?’
‘Not now, OK — just let Pewe know, will you?’
‘Of course. Will you let us have the details — you know — of the funeral when you have it?’
‘I will. But let’s just focus back on the case, I need a distraction for now. Any luck with getting surveillance?’
‘No joy for today, but Mark Taylor’s team look like they’ll be finished on a job sometime tomorrow or possibly Friday.’
‘He’s brilliant,’ Grace said. ‘Top man — too bad we can’t get him today, but Mark’s lot will pick it all up fast.’
‘How about a request to the Home Secretary for phone taps on Paternoster?’ Branson suggested.
‘No chance — we’d only get that if we could establish there was a life at risk. I don’t think I have any evidence currently to warrant any such application. What about the pollen lady?’