Heather stares at her, and just as Margot begins towonder if her daughter recognizes her, her face breaks into a watery smile. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she says, and it’s like music to Margot’s ears. The sweetest, most wonderful sound she’s ever heard. She wants to bury her head in her daughter’s lap and sob, with relief and fear. But she doesn’t. She needs to be stoic. She knows there’s still a long way to go.
Instead she blinks away the tears. ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ She brings Heather’s hand to her lips. ‘We’ve been so worried about you.’
‘My mouth is dry.’ Her lips are sore and cracked. Margot takes the cup of water from Heather’s side table and places it to her lips. Heather leans forwards to take a few sips, then leans back against the pillows. Margot can see through the glass panel in the door that Adam is outside talking to the doctor. Why hasn’t he rushed in here to see his wife?
‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’ she asks, aware of what a silly question it is.
‘I feel like I’ve had a fight with a bus. Was I in some kind of accident?’
Margot’s stomach tightens.She doesn’t know.‘Um. What exactly has the doctor said?’
Heather looks around the room, bewilderment in her eyes. ‘That I’ve had an accident.’
Margot brings the cup back to Heather’s lips. ‘Well, let’s wait to speak to them, shall we? Can you remember anything?’What were you doing in Bristol? Why did you kill Clive and Deirdre Wilson?She has to bite her lip to stop her questions spilling out of her mouth.
‘They said I was in a coma.’
Margot puts the cup down. ‘Yes. That’s right. For seven whole days.’
Heather touches the bandage on her head gingerly.
‘Is it sore?’ Margot asks.
Heather shakes her head, then winces. ‘A little.’ She’s struggling to keep her eyes open. ‘Ethan?’
‘Ethan’s fine. He’s with Gloria.’
‘I feel so tired,’ she says. Margot’s heart hammers. Heather closes her eyes again. Is she back in the coma? Margot leaps up. ‘Heather.’ She shakes her gently. ‘Heather. Sweetheart.’
Heather groans a little and her eyes flutter open. ‘I’m just tired,’ she says, and closes them again.
Dr Khan comes into the room, Adam following close behind. She’s the same female doctor that Margot has seen sporadically during the week. ‘She was talking to me,’ says Margot, trying to quell her panic, as though she’d been given this wonderful miracle only to have it snatched away again.
Dr Khan, who looks to be in her late thirties, with gold-rimmed glasses and a glossy dark bun, bustles over to Heather, checking her vital signs. Then she turns to Margot and Adam. ‘Don’t worry. She’s just sleeping. Coma patients are often tired when they come around. And it can take a few days – longer in some cases – for the disorientation to wear off. Heather only woke up a few hours ago.’
A few hours. Why didn’t someone ring before? Why hadn’t Margot been with her? Or Adam? Heather had woken up and been alone. She must have felt scared, wondering where she was and what had happened.
‘I’ve just been explaining to Mr Underwood,’ Dr Khan smiles reassuringly at Adam, ‘that we’ve done all the necessary checks and the signs are very encouraging. Heather has regained full consciousness.’
‘What about brain damage?’ Margot asks.
‘As far as we’re aware, there is no sign of damage or trauma to the brain. However, it does seem that Heather has trouble remembering the …’ she swallows and pushes her glasses further up her nose, glancing briefly at the sleeping Heather ‘… incident that brought her here. But, again, this is sometimes the case.’
‘She knew who I was,’ Margot says.
Adam strides past her and perches on the chair Margot only recently vacated. He takes Heather’s hand in his large one and, with the other, smooths her silky dark hair from her forehead. ‘Hello, love,’ he says to her. ‘It’s Adam. I’m here.’
Her eyes flicker open and lock with his, and Margot sees such intimacy between them that she feels as though she’s intruding.
Even though Margot wants never to leave Heather’s side again, she knows they need time alone and steps out of the room, along with the doctor.
They glance at the policewoman, who’s still standing outside Heather’s door, like a security guard or a bouncer. Margot would love to tell her to bugger off and that she’s encroaching on a private family moment. Instead she moves away and Dr Khan follows. ‘It’s really encouraging,’ Dr Khan says again, when they’re out of earshot of the officer. ‘This is the best possible outcome we could have expected for Heather.’
‘I know visiting hours are over, but can I stay?’
She flashes Margot a regretful smile. ‘I think Heather needs rest right now. She’s in the best hands, Mrs Powell, I can assure you of that.’
Margot goes to find Jess in the main waiting room. It’s now eleven o’clock, and the room is dimly lit and nearly empty, apart from Jess flicking through a magazine in the corner, and a bloke staring into space, sipping from a coffee cup.
