I look at Ollie and want to say something to him, something comforting, but a doctor emerges to talk to us and we stand up while we’re given reasons why Liv is lucky to be alive. It’s clear we’re being viewed as a bunch of idiotic students.
Afterwards we go and see Liv, and Ollie doesn’t speak, barely looks at her. I do all the talking, telling Liv how much we love her, how frightened we were, how we’re so happy she’s OK, which is obviously a huge understatement. She looks awful: white, her damp hair hanging limp and tangled.
‘We’ve been so worried about you,’ I tell her. ‘Ben went home to get your phone, find your parents’ number and call them.’
‘The doctors have already done that. I asked them to.’
‘Good. I imagine they’ll want to come and see you – check with their own eyes that you’re really fine.’ I hold her hand, which is cold and droopy.
Liv nods.
I try not to cry again as my mind flashes back to her dangling from Ben’s grasp, unconscious, lifeless in the water.
Her eyes search for Ollie’s, but he’s still not looking at her.
I feel the need to leave them alone, let them say whatever it is they need to say. I’m intruding. ‘I’m going to ring Ben, tell him you’re OK, which he knew you would be. Then I’ll fetch us all some tea from the machine.’ I bend and do to Liv what Ben did to me – kiss the top of her cold, damp hair – and then I give Ollie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. The boy needs to speak now. He needs to say something, anything. But not to me. To Liv.
I exit the room, leave them to it and go in search of the vending machine and a quiet corridor from which to ring Ben.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liv’s in the ward overnight for observation, so the rest of us sit in Ben’s drawing room as the chill night sends shivers through the air. Ben’s dad, David, home from London, builds the fire up, and against the gentle crackle of the kindling we give David and Chrissie a debrief. They are appalled, utterly appalled at what happened. Surprisingly, it is calm, easy-going David who does the unthinkable and shouts at his only son – a fact that takes me completely by surprise, making me jump as he booms at Ben how he can move away from home for the first time without incident, but returns to his own home and ‘nearly kills someone’.
I start to defend Ben, but he gives me a quick look to stop me while he sits there, just taking it from his dad. My mum would never speak to me like that and, while I love and adore her, if I was being accused of something heinous in such a way, I’d shout back. Mum taught me to stand up for myself and I’m not sure why Ben merelytakes it, but, unbelievably, he does. I’m not sure who I despise more: David for being so horrible or Chrissie for not bothering to defend her son. Ben did nothing wrong.
And then an awkward silence settles in. The men are holding brandies and Chrissie and I are drinking coffee, but noone’s really doing anything. I’m still staring in surprise at David, but he doesn’t care what I think, a fact that is confirmed when he doesn’t even look at me for the rest of the time I’m in the room.
Ben is the first to rise, declare his intention to go to bed. ‘I’ve had enough of today. I’m exhausted,’ he says.
‘Ben,’ I stop him and he gives me a kiss as he passes. ‘Goodnight,’ I say, looking at his retreating figure with concern as he opens the creaky wooden door and then closes it behind him. Is that how family arguments are solved in this house? By not solving them at all? This is mental.
David downs his drink and says goodnight to Ollie, and I watch Chrissie give me a sympathetic smile before she dutifully follows David up to bed. Upstairs, I hear more raised voices. They’ve obviously cornered Ben in the corridor.
‘They’re awful people,’ I say quietly to Ollie, who’s next to me on the expensive-looking floral sofa, but he’s staring into his glass. I’m not sure if he’s drunk any of his brandy. ‘Ollie?’ I ask.
He swallows and looks at me forlornly. He’s said barely anything all day.
‘Ollie?’ I repeat, more concerned now.
He looks as if he doesn’t know what to say. His pained expression deepens and then he says, ‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I didn’t do anything. When Ben pulled Liv out the water, I didn’t do anything. I just froze. I … froze.’
‘So did I,’ I say immediately and I watch him, waiting formore. But there is no more, so I continue, reading between the lines. ‘You feel guilty in some way?’
He winces and then nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why do you feel guilty? Because you didn’t know what to do? Neither did I.’
‘It’s not only that. Liv’s my girlfriend. I didn’t do anything to help her. I didn’t notice her go in, didn’t notice her drowning—’
‘You were asleep.’
‘Was I? I don’t remember. I … I didn’t know what to do. My mind went blank. I went blank. It was like I wasn’t even there. I was so stunned – so … stunned.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I reinforce my point. ‘It doesn’t matter because Ben did know what to do. And he did it.’
