The pang of disappointment was swiftly replaced by warm affection. ‘Thanks.’
‘Can I sit?’ she asked, nodding towards the empty chair by the window.
‘Of course.’ He tried to sit up a little higher. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Eleanor called and told me what happened. She asked if I could come and see you.’ Freya settled herself down and pulled out a plastic bag. ‘Here … I picked up some supplies on the way over.’
Fin peered inside and saw about ten packets of chocolate digestives. But his mind was still stuck on Freya’s words.
She couldn’t stand to see you herself so she called Freya.
‘Now, can you please explain what happened? The nurse said something about surgery and Eleanor told me it was a car accident.’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t remember much, to be honest, but … apparently I walked out in front of one and got pretty smashed up.’
Freya winced at his blunt account. ‘You walked in front of it?’ Her eyes were wide and the young girl he’d grown up with appeared before him.
‘Not on purpose!’ he insisted. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Right.’ She eyed him suspiciously.
‘It was. I promise.’
‘Were you drunk?’ Freya’s face dropped. ‘Eleanor said something about you drinking.’
Fin tried to sit up but the pain held him down. ‘No.’ He shook his head furiously. ‘I had some drinks the night of my mum’s funeral, but after that nothing.’ His voice was straining as the desperation clawed through to the surface. ‘You have to believe me. You both have to believe me. I was sober.’
‘OK.’ She reached her hand out and placed it on his arm to calm him. ‘I believe you.’
He took a couple of seconds for the anxiety to subside and then reached into the bag and pulled out a packet of biscuits. ‘You want one?’
‘Go on then.’ She smiled, sitting back in the chair.
‘How did Eleanor sound?’ he tried to ask casually.
‘Fine.’ Freya took the packet from his clumsy hands and ripped it open. ‘A little stressed maybe.’
‘Stressed? Did she say why?’ He cringed at his lack of tact, but Freya seemed oblivious.
‘Nope. I’m guessing work.’ She sighed, taking a bite out of her digestive biscuit. ‘She’s always stressed with work.’
‘Are you seeing her soon?’
Freya curled her legs up underneath her on the chair. ‘Wasn’t planning to until Sunday. The lunches with Mother dear still continue.’
‘OK,’ he mumbled dejectedly.
‘I’m sure she’ll be back to visit you, though,’ Freya chirped brightly. ‘How long do they say you’ll be here for?’
‘I don’t know. The doctor is coming round later for an assessment. I guess I’ll find out more then.’
‘Will you let me know as soon as you do, please? We’re worried about you.’
‘We?’ he asked curiously.
‘Yes! Me and Eleanor.’ She smirked. ‘I haven’t told Mum yet because God knows the last thing you need is her flapping around your bedside when you’re trying to recover.’
Visions of Angela Levy bursting on to the ward swathed in silk, crying his name dramatically, gave Fin a little burst of levity.
