Jayne weighs up what to say and opts for the truth. “I was calm because I believed it was a hoax, but now I think I was wrong. I’m scared now.”
“If we’d gone down to the farmhouse when I wanted to, this might not have happened.”
Jayne isn’t sure about that, but she won’t argue with Emily at this point.
“I think Paul’s dead,” Emily says. “I can feel it.”
Jayne goes to her and puts her arms around her. She half expects Emily to flinch, but she doesn’t.
“Let’s wait and see what happens,” she says.
They sit for a while. It’s dark around them, but neither of them moves to put on a light.
Emily cries hard and Jayne lets her.
Eventually, when Jayne’s arms feel numb and neither of their phones has buzzed for far too long and the feeling of waiting for news is almost unbearable, Emily speaks again.
“I lied about Toby attacking me,” she says. “And I feel terrible about it. I don’t want Paul to know. He thinks I’m better than that. I am, usually.”
If Paul’s alive to hear about it, Jayne thinks. If he is.
“You lied that Toby attacked you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’m sorry. He was being weird about me calling the police and I got scared and I scratched him when he came near me. And then I didn’t want to get in trouble for it. I didn’t want to be accused of assault. But he never hurt me.”
“Oh, dear, God,” Jayne says. “Haven’t we done enough to each other this weekend?”
Blue lights. So many of them. They’re blinding.
Two ambulances. Four paramedics. Two fire crew. Four police officers. Shouts of authority.
I’m sitting on the side of the road. Dizzy. Drowning in my failure, in the awful pain of it. What’s the bravest thing to do now? What will prove to Imogen that I truly love her?
A woman crouches down beside me. Green uniform. “Are you hurt, sir?”
“He’s not.” Imogen’s voice. She sounds cold and hard. It’s painful to hear.
I wipe away tears, ashamed for these people to see me weeping. They leave me on the verge.
A saw screams and sparks fly from Toby’s car. They’re cutting through the roof to get him out.
I stagger to my feet and sway as I watch. It’s a lot to take in. The scene is overwhelming. The stink, the noise, the lights, the music coming from one of the car radios as if this was a gentle evening, not a scene of carnage.
A police officer approaches and offers me assistance, but I shake my head. I don’t want Imogen to see me as weak. I am not weak. But my legs wobble, betraying me. It feels impossible to see anything clearly. I sit down again, heavily.
“I’m fine,” I assure her and meanwhile the metal saw stops, and I hear a roaring in my ears that’s coming from inside my own head.
They have Toby on a stretcher, and they carry him past me to the ambulance. He’s unconscious. I reach for him. I think I want him to be dead.
I get up again and stumble and fall against Ruth’s car. I notice the baby seat in the back. I point at it, wanting to show it to Imogen and to say, You used to be in one of these.
A policeman tells me I can’t touch anything, that I must stepaway. “I think we need someone to look at you properly, sir,” he says. Where have all these people come from?
“No, no,” I say. “I’m fine.”
