TOYL

after Richard.’
    Emma took his hand, her heartbeat quickening in anticipation. ‘Is Richard okay?’ Dr Hennessey maintained his poker face. ‘I think it’s better if we talk next door,’ he said, leading the way into a private room.
    ‘There is good news and bad,’ he began, perching on the very edge of his chair, leaning forward and glancing at the door every few seconds as if readying himself for a hasty departure. Emma scrutinised him for clues as to just how bad the bad news was going to be, but his expression gave away nothing. At that instant she thought how not all acting was done on the stage or in front of the camera.
    She and Lizzy waited for a painful moment while Dr Hennessey gathered his thoughts, steepling his fingers with the point touching his top lip. The air in the room was stiflingly hot and stale: warm enough to make it feel as if the orange plastic chairs on which they were sitting were melting.
    ‘The good news is that Richard is alive,’ announced the doctor, without a hint of celebration. ‘It was touch and go for a time, but the team worked very hard and fortunately Richard also did his fair share of fighting, which always helps.’
    ‘And the bad news?’ Emma prompted, not really wanting to know the answer but desperate to find out everything and get it over with. She watched the doctor ready himself. For a time she’d toyed with the idea of studying medicine – her grades had been good enough and she liked the idea of helping people – but here and now, empathising with the doctor’s task of breaking bad news, it didn’t seem like such a great job anymore.
    ‘I’m afraid the bad news is that Richard has slipped into a coma.’
    ‘Right.’ Emma wasn’t surprised by the revelation. Although she’d hoped it wouldn’t be that serious, the extent of Richard’s injury and the fact that he had remained unconscious throughout the journey to hospital pointed to possible coma. But at least he was still alive.
    ‘The MRI scan showed that Richard has suffered a subdural haematoma – a bleed between the surface of the skull and the brain. The pressure that this puts the brain under can lead to coma.’
    ‘But he is going to be all right?’ Lizzy asked in an anguished voice. ‘He’ll come out of it?’
    ‘We’ll just have to watch and wait,’ stated the doctor. ‘I’m afraid it’s impossible to predict what’s going to happen with any certainty. But it’s worth saying that a large proportion of patients recover well from coma.’
    ‘But some never do,’ Emma said flatly.
    ‘Some never do recover, that’s true,’ he admitted. ‘But a lot do. I know it’s difficult, but you must try and be as positive as possible. The first few weeks are crucial, really. I hear that Richard has no immediate family, apart from his brother?’
    Emma nodded. ‘His parents died when he was young.’
    ‘Well, it’s good that he’s got friends to be by his side. There’s plenty of research that shows patients in coma respond to external stimuli: familiar voices, smells. You could help greatly in his recovery. As I said, just try and stay positive, even if you don’t feel like it.’
    ‘We’ll be there for him,’ Emma said.
    ‘’Course we will,’ Lizzy affirmed.

    ***

    Will watched from the hospital car park as an ambulance swung into the drop-off area. The back opened and a young girl, limping on her left leg, was helped through the main entrance by two paramedics – yet another human being with their life in the hands of strangers. He took a last long drag on the cigarette before stamping it out. He hadn’t had a cigarette in over a year, but he’d needed one tonight. Looking up at the clear night sky, he tried to pick out a star. But the lights leaking from the city obscured the celestial view.
    He thought back to the item he had found next to Richard’s body.
    What the hell am I going to tell her?
    Pulling out his mobile, he punched in the number and took a steadying breath, feeling light-headed and nauseous.
    The phone was answered on the second ring.
    ‘Hi, it’s me, Will,’ he said, leaning back against the wall for support. ‘Something terrible has happened. And I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about it.’

4

    He had watched from the car across the road, sunk down into his seat for camouflage, as the ambulance arrived. It was traumatic, seeing Emma in such a state without being able to do anything about it. All he’d wanted to do was run