The phone rang.
‘Thank God!’ Jumping up, she felt a new surge of energy fuelled by relief – they were home, and she had woken them, and they had just taken a little while to get to the phone. Her mum would no doubt give her an earful, but she’d happily take it! Beaming and desperate to hear the voice of her mum or dad, she lifted the receiver.
‘Hello?’
There was the unmistakeable sound of coins dropping, a payphone. A call from a payphone ... Her heart raced.
‘Ash.’
‘Remy!’ Ashleigh sang. Thank God. Remy was on the phone. ‘I’ve just phoned the house! I would never have called this late, but Mum left a message with Fran, and I had a bit of a panic, and so...’ It was that burbling-when-nervous thing again.
‘I didn’t know you’d called. We’re not at home.’
We . . .
‘Not at home?’ She gave a short, sharp, nervous laugh. Unable to fathom where her family might be at this hour, together, the three of them, but without her. ‘Where are you then?’
‘I’m at the hospital.’
Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
‘Rem!’ She exhaled.
‘Mum and Dad are here. They’ve just gone to the machine to get a cup of tea. The nurse has brought the phone to my bed.’
Nurse?
‘Okay.’ Her breathing calmed, a little. ‘Okay.’ If her mum and dad were off getting a cup of tea, then they were not ill and certainly not dead, and if Remy was on the phone, ditto that.
‘Ashleigh...’ Remy cried then. Her distress wasn’t loud or jarring. Hers were not hysterical tears. Neither did they carry the suggestion of tiredness or frustration; they were instead the calm kind. Tears drawn from a deep, deep place where pure sorrow liesin wait, rearing its head on only the very worst of occasions. ‘I have some really rotten news ...’
‘What’s happened, little dove, what’s happened?’ Again Ashleigh sat on the floor, hands shaking, her back against the wall, waiting for her sister to explain, wishing shewouldexplain, so that Ashleigh could take a breath.
‘We went into town, Tony and I.’ There was a pause while the sounds of Remy’s stuttered breaths came down the line. ‘We’d only just got out of the car, and, and we were attacked.’
‘What do you mean,attacked?’ Ashleigh shook her head. It didn’t make sense! Who would attack her and Tony?Why?
‘Some men.’ Her sister’s voice was a thin whisper, as if to recount it was too painful. ‘Some ... some men.’
‘Remy, Remy, my little dove! Are you hurt?’ Her own tears came then; just the thought of her sister, injured, damaged and she hadn’t been there to help, to protect her!
‘I’ve got a broken shoulder and wrist.’ Ashleigh nodded; she hadfeltit. ‘And my face.’ Remy swallowed. ‘My face is very bruised. I’ve got stitches on my forehead, my temple, and my bottom lip.’
No! No! No! No! No!
‘My love! Oh, my love!’
‘I’m okay.’ Remy coughed; the beeps went. Ashleigh felt a flare of panic; thankfully, her sister deposited more coins. ‘But Tony,’ she sobbed, her voice barely audible, riven, Ashleigh could tell, with the pain of it, ‘they’ve really hurt him, hurt him so badly.’
‘Poor Tony!’ It was unthinkable. Tears ran down Ashleigh’s face, leaving inky black rivers of mascara. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘He’s not going to die. The doctor just told me that.’ Her sister spoke with the first glimpse of resolution to her tone, as if this were a fact she clung to. ‘But you should see him, Ash. His face.’
‘Rem!’
‘So many broken bones, his ribs, eye socket, jaw. I can’t even...’
‘Oh my God! I can’t believe it!’ She felt helpless and useless, wishing she were by her sister’s side, there at the hospital with her family in the world that was hers, not here, in this frock, wearing faux diamonds and drinking bloody champagne while her sister had been attacked –attacked!
