“What’s that?”
“A snake.”
“A snake! You couldn’t have a snake; where would you keep it?”
“In my room.”
“Charlie, you’re so stupid.”
“Oh, and you’re not, I s’pose. Look, here we are. I’ll wait outside. Be quick; don’t start looking at all the other comics.”
“They’re not comics.”
He shrugged.
She came out, clutching several magazines and a bag of sweets.
“OK. All done.”
He began to walk faster; Daisy had to half run to keep up with him, and dropped one of her magazines.
“Charlie! Wait for me!”
“Well, buck up then.”
“I can’t buck up. I’ve dropped one of my magazines.”
He stood, arms folded, elaborately patient, while she picked everything up, then set off again.
“Look, here’s a picture of a kitten-look, isn’t it sweet?”
“No.”
“It is. And… Charlie, please wait; you’re doing it again. I can’t keep up…”
“Well, walk faster then…”
“I am walking faster. Oh, no, now the cover’s ripped off; it’s got the necklace on it. Charlie, wait, wait…”
But he didn’t wait; and he didn’t see the crumpled cover of the magazine caught by the wind and blown across the road; nor did he see Daisy dashing into the street after it. He only heard things: a car, driving fast, faster than usual down the road, a scream, a screech of brakes, a hideous silence. And then he turned and he did see: the car halted, slewed across the street; a man, not much more than a boy his face distorted with fear, getting out of it; and Daisy, lying horribly, horribly still where it had flung her, facedown, her long, fair hair splayed out, one small hand still clutching her bag of sweets, and her pastel-coloured magazines filled with pictures of smiling little girls fluttering away down the street.
They were sitting there in Emergency together when Jonathan arrived: Lily and Charlie. Lily hurled herself at him, crying, “Daddy, Daddy, do something, please, please, make her better, make her better.”
Charlie was sitting, arms folded, shoulders hunched, his head somehow sunk down into his body. He didn’t look up.
A young man with a shaven head was sitting two chairs away from them; he was a greenish colour.
“Where’s Mummy?”
“In there,” said Lily. She nodded towards a set of double doors. “With Daisy.” Her blue eyes were enormous with fear.
“Charlie, what happened?”
“She… she ran into the road.”
“Into the road. But… how, why…”
The young man stood up, came over.
“You the dad?”
“Yes.”
“I hit her,” he said.
“You hit her. With your car?”
“Yeah. I’m… well, I’m sorry. She just… ran out. I couldn’t help it. I really couldn’t; I’m sorry. Really sorry. I…” He started to sob himself, like a child.
“Yes, all right, all right.” Jonathan could feel a steely professional calm taking over; just as well, they couldn’t all be hysterical. “Try to pull yourself together. How… how bad is she, what sort of injuries?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I didn’t… well, I didn’t go over her, if that’s what you mean. Just hit her.”
“The ambulance man said internal injuries,” said Charlie. His voice was hoarse, odd. Then he suddenly leaned forward and threw up.
“Poor old chap. Don’t worry…”
A weary-looking woman came over, looked at the pile of vomit, and sighed. “That’ll need clearing up.”
“Yes, indeed it will. Maybe you could find someone to do it,” said Jonathan. “Look… Charlie, go into the toilet; have a wash… I must go and find Mummy. And Daisy. Lily, you stay here. I-Oh, look, here’s Granny. She’ll stay with you. Hello, Stella. Could you get Charlie some water? He’s just been sick.”
“Yes, of course. How… how is she; what’s happened?”
“I don’t know. I only just got here. I’m going to try to find out.”
“You can’t go in there,” the woman on reception called to him as he pushed open the double doors Daisy had indicated. “That’s for medical staff only.”
“I am medical staff,” said Jonathan, and disappeared.
Laura was standing outside a curtained cubicle, very pale, very calm. She looked at him and almost smiled.
“Hello.”
“Hello. How is she?”
“We don’t know. Internal injuries, that’s all they’ll say. A doctor’s with her now.”
“Is she conscious?”
“No.”
“Has she been? Since it happened?”
“Not… not really. Well… a bit, in and out. Mostly out.”
“Oh, God. Jesus. Laura, how-”
“It was my fault. Really.”
“Yours?”
“Yes. She wanted to go to the shop, get some sweets. I didn’t have time.”
“She didn’t go alone?”
“No, no. She went with… with Charlie.”
“Charlie!”
“Yes. Don’t look like that; he’s taken her before. And Lily. Several times before… Well, you know he has, it was you who said he could in the first place.”
It was true. He had. It had been a huge adventure… for Charlie. They had watched him from the gateway as he had walked carefully and proudly down the road, never taking his eyes off Lily, calling her back if she went so much as five yards ahead of him. They had had to keep ducking out of sight, in case he saw them; when the kids were nearly back Laura and Jonathan both fled into the house, laughing-Laura to the kitchen, Jonathan to his study-and pretended they hadn’t even heard them come in, expressing huge surprise when Charlie called out, “We’re back.”
Different times. Happy, safe times.
“Anyway, she ran into the road; she’d dropped her comic. Some lad was driving up-much too fast, I imagine.”
“Yes, he’s out there.”
“To give him his due, he stayed with her while Charlie came for me, insisted on coming to the hospital; he’s all right, really, nice boy, just desperately frightened… Has Mummy come…?”
“Yes, she’s there. Charlie’s just thrown up.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s beside himself. He was hysterical; I couldn’t stop him crying, screaming, almost, at first. Then he went terribly quiet, sort of disappeared into himself…”
“So what actually happened? I mean, why did she run into the road?”
“I told you, to get her comic; it was blowing away.”
“She knows better than that.”
“I know she does. But Charlie said she was all bothered, as he put it; she kept dropping things.”
“Chap must have been going a hell of a lick. Or he’d have seen her.”
“I know, I know.”
They stood there, staring at each other: she wild eyed, ashen, shaking, he frozen faced, shock-still. Unable to reach each other, comfort each other; each filled with the torment of guilt.
“I’m so, so sorry, Jonathan.”
“Laura, it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was, it was… I wasn’t there…”
“Neither was I,” he said, his voice hardly audible, “was I?”
He took a deep breath, stood silent for a moment, then: “What does the lad say? The driver?”
“He says he doesn’t know what happened. But he said… well…”
“Yes?”
“He said Charlie came running back to the car. So it sounds like he’d gone ahead. Not… well… not with Daisy. Not looking after her. But-”
“Oh, Christ.”
“Yes. He didn’t want to go, Jonathan; he was arguing with me, saying he wanted to go on the computer, do his wretched Warhammer stuff. I… well, I made him. I shouldn’t have; I should have seen what might happen… Oh, God.”
She dropped her face into her hands, began to cry.
“Don’t,” he said, and his voice was odd, cracked, “Don’t cry. It’s all right. It was an accident. These things happen.”
“They don’t have to. They-”