Sophie immediately understood what she was saying. He wasn’t dead. Thank God. She felt better for a second, before more doubts kicked her relief out of the park. Maybe he was really badly injured. Critical. That was still down to her.

  ‘And the other thing I’d say is that…’ Sophie watched Brenda frown with concentration. ‘The gentleman’s current condition is not related to the accident and it’s likely that he would have required medical attention even if he had not been driving that car.’

  It took Sophie a moment to work that out. Her brain was definitely not as sharp as usual. So if she was getting it right, something happened to him that had nothing to do with the crash. Okay. The guilt lifted just a little bit more. That meant it wasn’t her fault.

  She wiped away her tears with the palms of her hands, before Nurse Brenda pulled some sheets off a blue roll on the wall and handed them to her.

  ‘Thank you for making me feel better.’

  ‘Not at all. Now, let me check again – are you sure you don’t want me to notify anyone that you’re here? Maybe your mum or dad?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘My mum died just over a year ago… pancreatic cancer.’

  ‘Och, I’m sorry, love.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s just that, since she died, my dad has become anxious about me and my sister. I think he’s terrified that he’ll lose us too. So I don’t want him to know I’m in hospital, because it’ll put him into a complete panic and he’ll kill himself trying to get here. I even lied to him about why I was coming. I know that’s pathetic at my age…’

  Nurse Brenda didn’t seem to agree. ‘Not at all,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’ve got two daughters. The older one, Zara, and Millie, the one that shares your birthday. I’m pretty sure they don’t tell me the half of it. You’re allowed to live your own life.’

  ‘I know, but the thing is, I came up to see my ex, but I didn’t want to tell my dad that because I know he’ll just start worrying that I might get back together with him and move up here. Like I said, he’s become a bit… overprotective.’

  ‘So hang on – your ex lives in Glasgow? Do you want me to phone and tell him you’re here then? I’m sure he’d want to know.’

  Sophie sighed, decided to go with the pamphlet edition of the story. ‘That’s the thing – I don’t have any way to contact him. I last saw him two years ago… It’s a long story. I broke things off and we ended up losing touch.’

  At first, after she’d returned home, she’d speak to Ash every day… then every second day… then once a week. He’d said all the right supportive things, tried to cheer her up, to be there for her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted something from her that she just didn’t have to give when all her focus was on being there for her mum. He wanted the carefree girlfriend he’d fallen in love with, but then, right at that moment in time, she was just a struggling daughter trying to cope with a sick mum and a dad who was worrying himself to death right next to her. It was too much.

  After a few months, she’d begged Ash to give her some space. She’d stopped taking his calls. Ignored his texts. Lost herself in caring for her mum, her dad, herself. As her mum got sicker, that space had stretched… and stretched… After Mum had died, it had taken everything she had just to get out of bed in the morning. Her new job helped, another thing to fill her time, to stop her from crumbling, but she’d put Ash to the back of her mind, not ready to tap into her feelings again. In her black fog of grief and confusion, she’d cut him off completely, feeling that she had no right to be happy or in love when her mum was dead.

  It was months later that she found a message he’d sent just a few days after her mum’s funeral. It had come in the midst of a flurry of sympathy messages that she hadn’t had the strength to read. It was a WhatsApp message, a single photo, a year to the day since his first proposal. It was an image of her ring, placed on the ground in George Square, in the exact place he’d proposed. By the time she’d called him back, she’d got a message saying the number was no longer in service. She’d thought about coming up then, but she still couldn’t bring herself to leave her dad, even for a weekend.

  Or maybe that was an excuse. Maybe her heart was just still too broken to think about loving again. It had taken time, healing and a whole lot of prodding from Erin, but she was here now. She just hoped he was too, because a huge piece of her mended heart was terrified that she’d let the love of her life go without a fight.

  ‘This is the first time I’ve come back to see him, but I’ll have to let him know in person because his old number has been disconnected. Anyway, thanks for listening. And sorry. I didn’t mean to pour my heart out there.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ Brenda said, gently. ‘There’s rarely enough time to stop for two minutes on this ward, so it was good to take a load off these feet of mine. The nurses up on the admissions ward you’re going to are a lovely bunch, so just let them know if you change your mind and want to call someone.’

  ‘I will do. And thanks again.’

  ‘Anyone around here looking for transport to the executive suites?’ A booming voice interrupted them before Brenda had even got to her feet.

  ‘You can keep saying that, Hamish, but it doesn’t make it true,’ Brenda fired back, laughing. ‘Sophie, this is Hamish. He always wanted to work in a flash hotel, so he just pretends this is it.’

  ‘A man’s got to dream, Brenda,’ he bantered back, before getting to the important stuff. He and Brenda conferred, checked they had all the right details of who Sophie was and where she was going, then he put all of her belongings on a shelf under her bed, flipped the brake off and with another grateful thanks to Brenda she was out of the door and on her way.

  Hamish kept up the chirpy chat all the way down the corridor, into the lift, and up to the second floor. The doors pinged open and he took a right, went through another set of double doors and into a ward.

  A friendly faced nurse was at the desk and seemed to know she was coming.

  ‘I hear you’ve been through the wars today,’ she said lightly, making Sophie immediately feel a little bit better. ‘Let’s get you along to your room and get you settled. You’ve missed dinner…’ Sophie hadn’t even thought about food all day, but the minute the nurse said that, it was as if her stomach sprung to attention and demanded sustenance. ‘…But I’ll phone along and see what we can rustle up for you. Room 2, Hamish, thanks very much.’

  She was on the move again, as the porter steered her into a room on the opposite side of the corridor. She’d expected to be put on a ward with lots of other people, but there was just one other woman, maybe in her early thirties, who appeared to be fast asleep. That was fine with her. The last thing she felt like was making small talk.

  Hamish said his goodbyes and went on his way, just as the nurse came in and ran through all her details, then told her food would be along shortly, and that she’d check in on her regularly.

  She’d just left when Sophie heard her phone buzz.

  A text from Erin.

  FaceTime?

  A brief panic as she tried to come up with something that was as plausible as possible. If she told Erin she was in hospital, her sister would freak out and demand she come home. Or pitch up here with their dad in tow. Sophie couldn’t bear the thought of causing fuss or drama. They’d all been through enough. ‘Sorry about the white lies, Mum,’ she whispered skywards as she began to type.

  I’m in the hotel restaurant having dinner.

  With Ash?

  Nope, not found him yet. Knackered so going to have an early night and hunt tomorrow.

  You’re a lightweight. I’m going out with the girls for drinks, but if you need me, call me IMMEDIATELY. Love you. Xx

  Phew.

  You go enjoy yourself and I’ll call you in the morning. Love you too.

  Sophie put the phone down, then realised her sister wasn’t done. Another ping.

  Tomorrow is going to be a good day. I can feel it in my water. By this time tomorrow night, you’ll have found him.

  Sophie had never hoped more that her sister was right.

  11

  ALICE

  On the ground floor of the hospital, Alice had no idea how long she’d been sitting in the prayer room. Hours perhaps. Once or twice, she’d got up, walked around the room just to keep her circulation going, then sat back down again, stared straight ahead. It struck her that most people in this situation would have people to call, family to notify or friends to summon for support. It was without a whiff of self-pity that Alice acknowledged she had neither. That was the thing with sinking ships – everyone jumped off. As soon as the scandal broke, all those friends who’d been delighted to be seen with her when she was an MP’s wife scattered. Not a single call. Not one. All the people she’d helped along the way? Amnesia. And she didn’t blame them one bit.

  And as for family? Her parents were gone now, and she was an only child, so there were no siblings to lean on. And Rory… she’d done the only thing that she could do to protect him. She’d let him go.

  ‘Mrs McLenn?’

  She raised her gaze to see a policeman standing in the doorway. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Officer Dan Reiss. I wonder if we could speak?’

  Police officers asking questions. She’d been here before, but two years ago it had been detectives and investigators from the fraud squad, who’d relished the fact that they were dealing with a case that could potentially make their careers. There had been a lot of crushed people, including her, when Larry had escaped justice.

  ‘Of course. Let me come outside.’

  Even though she was there by herself, the prayer room didn’t feel like the right place to have that kind of conversation.

  There was a row of four empty seats against the wall in the corridor outside, so Alice sat on the nearest one.

  The police officer left one seat between them, so that he could turn to face her. The first thing he did was hand her a shopping-sized blue plastic bag. ‘I believe these are your husband’s belongings, Mrs McLenn – the traffic officers retrieved them before the car was removed from the scene of the accident.’

  Alice didn’t care to look inside.

  ‘Can I just take a few details please, for our records?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He ran through a few basic questions: address, telephone numbers, her husband’s employment details, when he’d joined the taxi company, et cetera. She could see in his face that he didn’t have to ask what Larry had done before that. He knew. Everyone knew.

  He closed his notepad and gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs McLenn. If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Is my husband going to be charged with anything?’

  That seemed to surprise him. ‘No. We are awaiting the results of a blood test to check for any alcohol or chemical substances, but at the moment there are no grounds for an arrest.’

  Alcohol hadn’t even crossed her mind. When she’d come in from her cleaning shift last night, he’d still been up, sitting in his usual chair, with his usual bitter expression, watching his usual news channel on TV and there had been his usual glass in his hand. She’d taken no notice, just gone straight upstairs, showered and then gone to bed to catch a few hours’ sleep before getting up for her morning shift.

  A thought struck her. ‘One other thing, was anyone else hurt?’

  ‘There was a passenger in the back seat of your husband’s car. She was brought into this hospital after the accident, but her injuries weren’t serious, and we expect her to be discharged tomorrow.’

  Alice exhaled, relieved. Poor woman. She was probably just going about her day and then everything changed because she had the misfortune to get into Larry’s taxi. ‘Can I speak to her? I’d just like to apologise and pass on my best wishes for her recovery.’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t reveal her identity as that would breach her privacy,’ he said regretfully.

  Alice understood. If Larry was in any way at fault, the last thing the police would want to do is facilitate contact with anyone else involved.

  The officer left and she considered going back into the prayer room, but decided to stay put for now, lowering her gaze to the floor when a young couple walked by, holding hands. They were maybe in their twenties, and the gent’s hand that wasn’t holding hers was in plaster and secured against his chest in a sling.

  ‘I mean, seriously, what were you thinking?’ she was chiding him, but Alice could hear the affection in her voice. ‘Arm wrestling. You’re a grown man. And I tell you, if you’d won those football tickets, you wouldn’t have been going anyway because it’s my mum’s birthday that day and we’re taking her out for lunch. And no, a broken wrist doesn’t get you out of it.’

  Alice didn’t catch his reply, but she heard him groan, then laughter as they disappeared around the corner.

  Had she and Larry ever been like that? Playful? Affectionate? In love?

  Maybe at the start. They’d met when Alice was a receptionist at a legal firm and he’d come in to talk to one of the solicitors in her office about speeding charges he was trying to evade. It was the early nineties and Alice had just split up with her boyfriend of six months, a Premier League football player who had transferred to a club down south and also transferred his affections to a Page Three girl who’d offered to go with him.

  After the break up, Alice knew she should be heartbroken, but she wasn’t. It sounded arrogant, and she didn’t mean it to, but she had the kind of looks and confidence that would ensure there would be others. Or maybe not, she’d pondered. Perhaps she should swear off men for a while and concentrate on her career, maybe even go back and finish the teaching degree that she’d bailed on after her second year, because she’d been desperate to get out into the world and experience life. Those thoughts had all been discarded the minute Larry McLenn had walked into her office. His physical impact was instant. In his early thirties, he was well over six feet tall, with the broad shoulders of a rugby player and the cheeky grin of a man who knew that he could charm his way in and out of anything. That included the speeding charges, which would be waived after a judge heard how he was rushing to an emergency – all fabricated, of course. Not that Alice knew that at the time.

  God, she’d been besotted by him. In those days, he owned a trendy, hugely popular bar in the city centre. That’s how his interest in politics had started. He’d challenged the council over their rejection of his application to extend his alcohol licence for special events, and he’d won. The victory had given him a taste of power that had only grown over the years to become the insatiable desire that would destroy them.

  Again, though, she hadn’t known that back then. When the exceptionally pretty, gregarious twenty-five-year-old Alice Brookes had smiled at him and watched as he sat on the edge of her desk and asked to take her out for a drink, all she’d seen was a handsome, charismatic, successful businessman who’d made her feel butterflies in her stomach. She’d gone for that drink, then dinner, and by the time he’d dropped her home in his flash Porsche, at the flat she shared with a couple of friends, she was in love. Or maybe in lust, but she’d been too damn young, stupid and swept away by this suave, charming man to know the difference.

  The next six months had been a whirlwind of romance, of wining and dining, of showing her a good time. Of course, her parents had been completely unimpressed. Sean and Andrea Brookes were older than most of her friends’ parents. Alice had been a surprise late baby, born when Andrea was almost forty and long after they’d resigned themselves to believe that God’s plan for them didn’t include parenthood. They’d also had been working-class people who’d given their daughter the core values of kindness, decency and the merits of a hard day’s work, a savings account and church on a Sunday. They’d expected her to marry someone just like them, to settle nearby and to live a contented life. Alice had adored her parents, but their view of her future hadn’t matched hers. She’d wanted excitement and glamour, and she’d seen all of it in the force of energy and revelry that had been Larry McLenn. He’d treated her like a princess and he’d promised her the moon and the stars, and she’d truly believed he could deliver.

  Then everything had changed.

  On their six-month anniversary, she’d realised she was pregnant. Her quiet, conformist, religious parents were horrified and demanded that they marry. Larry stalled on making it official, even after their son was born, and her mum and dad had never forgiven him.

  In the end, they’d married three months after Rory came into the world. Looking back, the red flags were all there, but she’d still been in love with him then, and she’d been so desperate to make things work and so eager to show her parents that she hadn’t made a huge mistake. Perhaps that was why she’d never turned to them when the problems started.

  Slowly, day by day, week by week, month by month, Larry had changed. The chase was gone. He had her. More than that, she’d come to rely on him and he veered between revelling in that and resenting it.

  It was small stuff at first. A cruel word. A sneer. After Rory had been born, he’d shown complete disinterest in their child, staying out late, claiming work events that never seemed to end before dawn. He’d insisted that she stop working, and to begin with, she’d thought it was because he wanted to make her life easier, but later, she would come to understand that it was all about control. Just as he’d got a taste for power and politics, he’d come to relish the kick of controlling another human being. She’d become his toy to play with or to discard depending on his mood. Over time, her friends had drifted away after too many invitations were refused, or because they couldn’t stand the arrogant way Larry spoke to them. She avoided her parents because she didn’t want to see the sadness on their faces or for them to see the reality of her trapped existence. And Larry just got more and more disdainful and disinterested.