This Could Change Everything(95)

As a consequence of the bleed, the build-up of pressure within the skull would have caused headaches, drowsiness and increasing confusion, which apparently explained why Zillah hadn’t called 999 herself.

‘I think the best thing you can do is go home and catch up on some sleep,’ the surgeon told them now.

For the millionth time, Essie wondered how long Zillah had lain there helplessly, in pain and alone. She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t do that. I’m staying here.’

Ninety miles away in Winchester, Conor got up early and drove into the centre of town. He bought himself a new charger and took it back to Annette and Bill’s house.

‘You’re obsessed.’ Belinda rolled her eyes as he plugged in his phone. ‘We’re driving home this evening; can you really not wait until then?’

‘I have a business to run. It’s unprofessional not to reply to messages.’

‘You mean emergency gardening questions? Help, help!’ Belinda waved her hands in mock panic. ‘My dahlias have gone droopy and I don’t know what to dooooo!’

Conor didn’t respond to the jibe. Nor did he point out that Belinda had earlier spent twenty minutes chatting happily on her own phone to Caz and to Evie, who was staying with her.

Ten minutes later, he saw the messages pinging up one after the other.

‘What do you mean, we have to go? We’re not leaving until this evening,’ Belinda protested. ‘Look, it’s a gorgeous sunny day. We’re going on a tour of Winchester Cathedral!’

Unbelievable.

Conor said, ‘If it was Evie in hospital, would you go home early?’

‘Of course I would. But that’s because it’s Evie. She’s only sixteen and I’m her guardian!’

‘Zillah’s in the neurosurgical unit at Southmead Hospital. She’s had emergency brain surgery,’ Conor repeated.

‘I know, and I get that you like her, but what is she to you?’ Belinda spread her arms in disbelief. ‘I mean, all you are is one of her tenants, and she’s your landlady.’

Conor looked at her. During dinner last night, there’d been casual mentions of where they might spend next Christmas, and how a trip to Tenerife might be nice. He’d silently marvelled at Belinda’s certainty that they’d still be a couple then.

And now he realised it wasn’t going to happen.

‘OK. I know you’ve been looking forward to visiting the cathedral,’ he said slowly.

‘I have.’ Belinda nodded, evidently pleased that he’d come to his senses.

‘So you should stay. But I’m leaving now.’

Her blue eyes widened. ‘Are you serious? How am I meant to get home?’

As clear as day, Conor heard Scarlett’s voice in his head, saying innocently, ‘Maybe on your broomstick?’

But that would be wrong and deeply inappropriate. In lots of ways, Belinda was a kind and thoughtful person, not witchy at all.

Aloud he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay for you to get the train.’

‘She could have died,’ Essie told Conor yet again. It was two days later and he was probably fed up with hearing it, but she couldn’t help herself. Every time she said the words, or even thought them, her skin crawled with shame. ‘And it would have been all my fault. I should have been there.’

What she hadn’t admitted to him was just how close she’d come to missing the clues, skipping out of the house and leaving Zillah there on the bathroom floor, simply because the need to be across the square and back with Lucas in his flat had been uppermost in her mind. Imagine if that had happened, and one thing had led to another and she hadn’t returned to Zillah’s house until the following morning . . .

Because by then the very worst thing imaginable would have happened. Zillah would have been dead.

The horrifying thought of it was still replaying in Essie’s mind.

‘But she didn’t die,’ said Conor. ‘And none of this was your fault anyway. You have to stop blaming yourself.’

Of course he felt this way. Because he didn’t know. He had no idea.

‘I feel so responsible. When she didn’t reply to my texts, I just thought it was because she’d left her phone switched off in the bottom of her handbag, because that’s what she does. But she’s eighty-three,’ Essie wailed, ‘and I shouldn’t have assumed that was the reason. I should have got someone to check up on her, make sure she was OK.’

‘Hey, this is Zillah. Being nursemaided isn’t her style. She’d have hated that.’

‘Well she’s going to have to get used to it from now on,’ said Essie grimly.

‘And someone has to tell her her days of climbing up on chairs are over too.’

It was all right for Conor; he didn’t have a reason to feel guilty. Essie said, ‘She won’t take any notice of us. We’ll have to get someone really terrifying to do it.’

Conor pulled a face. ‘That’d be Caz.’

The neurosurgeon, wearing a paisley bow tie, emerged from the ward. When he saw them waiting in the corridor, he said, ‘You can go in now. I’ve finished examining her.’

‘How’s she doing?’ Essie held her breath.

‘Astonishingly well, considering her age.’ The surgeon’s smile was dry. ‘And if she heard me say that, she’d give me short shrift. No, she’s making an excellent recovery. We’re very happy with her progress. At this rate, you’ll be able to take her home with you in the next two or three days.’