Louise hugged her friend and closed her own eyes against the grief.
‘Can he hear you?’ Deanne pulled away and looked at Louise, who shrugged. ‘No idea. No one has. We talk to him anyway. Ruby made a tape.’
‘How’s she been?’
Louise gave a breath out. ‘Brilliant really. But something like this…’ The enormity of it hit her again. She frowned and shook her head, determined not to cry. What did it mean for Ruby? Her brother so hurt, the uncertainty, the new routine of snatched meals and hospital visiting. ‘She’s got her audition soon. She needs to practise.’
‘She’ll get in,’ Deane said. ‘They’d be mad not to take her.’
‘I think she’s worried about going, if she does get a place. She’ll be boarding during the week.’ Her throat ached, the pressure building inside, the urge to let go and weep, which she had fought so hard.
‘Home at weekends?’
‘Oh yeah. The fees are means-tested and there are grants and stuff. The woman said we’d be fine on that score. She’s bought this wig.’ Louise smiled, still sniffing, pedalling back from the brink. ‘Dark crimson. She looks amazing.’
‘She is amazing. Do you want me to have a word with her? Buck her up a bit?’
‘No, ta. I need to do it. I’m not going to let this spoil things for her. It’s all she ever wanted, Deanne.’
‘I know.’ Deanne took her coat off, went and sat down. She stared at Luke. ‘It’s a crying shame,’ she said.
That was all it took and Louise was gulping and sobbing and the stupid, bloody tears were spilling through her fingers.
‘Louise! Aw, babe.’
Louise was up, half blind, seeking the door, the sorrow hot and fierce inside her. Deanne followed her out, hugged her close.
‘I didn’t want to bloody cry,’ she said when the worst of it was over, when she could no longer breathe through her nose and her lips were all swollen.
‘Course you need to cry,’ Deanne said. ‘You’re not a saint, Louise. You’re flesh and blood. With all this… Jesus.’ She rubbed Louise’s back.
‘I didn’t want Luke to hear me crying. He’s going to wake up, Deanne. He’s going to get better. If he can hear, what’s he going to think? Crying doesn’t help anyone.’
Deanne sighed. One of the nurses came along the corridor, smiled as she passed them by. Once she was out of earshot, Louise said, ‘Declan knows who did it – the main one. You remember Declan?’
‘Dopey Declan?’
‘Yeah. Apparently Luke had a set-to with this lad Gazza. Pulled him up for threatening a girl at a party. Gazza went for him and Luke tripped him up, took a photo and sent it round. Declan’s told the police; needed a kick up the bum from me first.’
‘Oh God,’ Deanne said. ‘I need a smoke.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Deanne looked, her face fell. ‘You haven’t?’
‘Something’s gotta give.’
It was dark outside, the sky a sickly blend of sulphur yellow from the city lights and leaden grey. The air was cold, still, trapping the smell from a brewery and the high, acrid exhaust fumes.
They smoked, and Deanne talked about Christmas at the in-laws, the tensions, the food, the boredom. Louise caught a shadow in her friend’s gaze, a current of something sour in between the words.
‘Did the kids like it?’
‘Yeah, they were fine, a bit bored but okay.’
‘And?’
Deanne cast her a glance, took a long drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke up into the beam of light from the street lamp.
‘Me and Tony.’ Deanne wrinkled her nose. ‘We’re breaking up.’
‘Oh no.’ After what? Twelve years, thirteen? Three kids.
‘Bastard’s seeing someone else.’
‘And that’s it? There’s no…’
‘Yes. And no. I’ve told him I want him out by the end of the month. You can imagine the atmosphere.’
‘Who is she? Someone you know?’
‘No. Some little tart he met on his travels.’ Tony was a rep selling soft toys to outlets round the north. ‘Lives in Preston.’
‘Oh Dee, I am sorry. Do the kids know?’
‘Not yet.’ Deanne ground her cigarette out. ‘We need a night out.’
Louise felt weary at the prospect. ‘I don’t know…’
‘No arguments. Me and you and Fee. Nothing too demanding. Cocktails.’
‘But Ruby…’
‘She can stay at mine – I’ll pay her to babysit. Or rather Tony will.’ Deanne looked at Louise. ‘It’s not like we’ve got much to celebrate for New Year. You with Luke, me not with Tony. Jesus, Fee better have some good news for us.’
