No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [76]
He called his daughter from the passenger seat. “Justy, are you all right, love?”
“I’m OK, Dad.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Beside me.”
“Put him on the phone, love.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, son. Are you all right?”
“We’re fine.”
“Your mother?”
“They said she’s sleeping. I haven’t seen her but I think it’s bad, Dad.” His voice broke.
“I’m on my way, Chris. I’m nearly there.”
“OK, Dad.”
He cancelled the call and looked at Sienna. “How could this happen?”
She didn’t have the answer. Instead she told him to open the map so that they could take the right exit and get to the hospital as quickly as possible.
A momentary smile crossed his lips. He liked her no-nonsense approach to an emergency and would be for ever grateful for her help – he wasn’t sure he would have coped as well alone.
They arrived at the hospital just over an hour later. Justine and Chris were in the family room, to which the nurse directed him. Sienna told him she’d get coffee and left him to go in alone. When he entered the small room Justine was lying across the couch, asleep. Chris had his back to him, staring at something in the middle distance.
“Chris!” he whispered, and his little boy turned to him, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I’m here, son,” he said, hugging him tightly. “I’m here now.”
Justine woke. “Dad!” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“There she is!” he said, his voice light.
She smiled and Chris moved over so that she could share in their father’s warmth. “I missed you, Dad. I really missed you.”
“That’s all over now,” he replied, stroking her hair.
They were interrupted by a policeman who’d been assigned to the case. Ivan told his children to stay put and left the room to stand in the corridor and discuss his ex-wife’s domestic disturbance. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“By the time we got there your ex-wife had been badly beaten and, as you know, she was unconscious. Her boyfriend was gone, but with information provided to us by your son we tracked him down to his local pub. He’s in custody. Obviously we can’t hold him unless your ex-wife is willing to press charges.”
“She’s still my wife,” Ivan mumbled.
“OK.” The man nodded.
“Have you spoken to her?” Ivan asked.
“So far she’s pretty uncommunicative. She’s sleeping now but when she wakes maybe you could have a word.”
Ivan doubted that anything he could say would assist but he promised to give it a try. The policeman walked away.
He spotted Sienna sitting in a chair, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He waved at her and she smiled, then shooed him away. He went back into the family room to his two hungry kids. They were in the canteen with Sienna, eating chips, sausages and beans, when the doctor tracked them down. Again, Ivan went into the corridor to talk to him.
“She’s got three broken ribs, a broken arm and a cracked skull.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“She’s lucky to be alive.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s very upset,” the doctor warned.
“I’m sure she is. I’m only here to help.”
“OK. Follow me.”
Despite being apprised of her injuries, Ivan wasn’t prepared for the reality. His wife’s face was reminiscent of a deflating purple balloon. Her left eye was swollen shut and her lower lip was bloody and stitched. Her arm wasn’t in a cast: it was bandaged, with metal bars piercing her skin.
His hands went to his mouth. “Oh, Norma!”
His ex-wife’s right eye started to leak and he wasn’t sure if it was tears or blood. She tried to talk.
“Don’t speak,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything.”
She shook her head slightly. He pulled over a chair and sat close to her bed. He held her hand. “Mary warned me. I should have come to see you for myself. I was too busy with…”
Norma raised her good hand and placed a finger over her damaged lips.
“I’ll murder him,” he promised.
“He never laid a hand on the kids,” she said, her words