I didn’t listen to the rest, deafened by the blood rushing to my ears, my heart thudding like a freight train. If Simone couldn’t park close to the restaurant she used a road sheltered by old factories, some disused, some warehouses. It was out of the way; too out of the way; too quiet; too hidden. And Sim was too predictable. If someone was out to hurt her, they’d know where she’d be.
Two people yelled at me as I nearly knocked them over, their voices blurring into white noise. Maybe she had gotten distracted or her car wouldn’t start or – I fucking knew something had happened. She would never have let Lauren down. She would’ve phoned if her car was an issue.
Shadows darkened the street, but her car was lit by a streetlight, highlighting it. I shouted her name, called her again, hoping to hear her voice call back.
Silence.
The lack of noise stabbed me.
Dark hair had fallen onto the pavement like discarded silk from one of the factories we were near. Dark red liquid painted the background to where she lay, eyes closed. I heard my voice but I didn’t know what I said; heard footsteps but didn’t know whose they were.
My fingers flickered to her pulse, finding it weak but there. Then there were more voices besides my own, someone calling an ambulance, the police.
Me saying Simone’s name.
Sirens.
The sound of my heart fracturing.
* * *
The soundsof the machines were deafening. The room was too white. The lights too bright.
I didn’t remember the last time I’d cried apart from over my brother in the shower so no one could see. It wasn’t that I thought I was too much of a man to cry, or tried to bury how I felt, just that I was the one who would be strong. Rational. The one who reasoned about those expected phone calls when Robert was on tour and we hadn’t heard from him for months.
“She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
I hadn’t heard the footsteps as Simone’s first husband had entered the hospital room.
“What if she’s not?” I didn’t recognise my voice. It was gruff and choked.
“Why would you think that she won’t be? This is Simone. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t understand why you let her go.”
I looked at him, Phillip, Simone’s first husband. The older man she married when she was eighteen.
“I didn’t. She left me. I didn’t begrudge her. She’s twenty years younger and she didn’t need an older man once she’d learned that she didn’t need her father either. She’s so strong and she’s got a lot to fight for.”
He gave me a smile that reminded me of Robert, one that contained more than he’d ever tell.
“I’m sorry about your brother.”
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
“Let me know if you need anything. I’d appreciate a message to say how she gets on.”
“I will.”
My eyes returned to Simone, the bruising to her forehead, the cut to her temple. I didn’t listen for Phillip leaving, I didn’t care.
“You need to wake up, Sim.” I gripped her hand in mine, hoping she’d grip back. “Otherwise I’ll be putting ham hock on the menu. And patatas alioli at Toad Hall. Everything’s taken care of. They’re all doing extra shifts.” I carried on talking about menus, desserts, wines, a crazy cocktail someone had invented. Lauren. Robert. My childhood. Everything I could, not knowing if she could hear. I told her about the holiday I wanted us to take, Christmas dinner, New Year’s Eve in New York.
I told her I loved her.
She didn’t respond.
* * *
