Page 149 of No Safe Place
Penny tipped her head back, looking up at the sky and pressing the heels of her hands into her cheeks to stem the tears.
Field realised it was the first time she’d seen Penny cry.
‘At least it wasn’t one of those kids,’ Penny said at last. ‘It’s not much, but it’s something. He wasn’t killed by one of his kids.’
Chapter 110
Two weeks later
Callum
He stabbed the button for the lift with his thumb and looked up and down the corridor. Tried not to look at the sign for the ninth floor, which was giving him heart palpitations.
Sunday should have been a busy day for visitors, but after it had been cloudy all week, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, and Callum supposed sick family members were coming second to barbecues and sunbathing.
The lift rattled, pinged and then the doors slid open.
A doctor shot a bemused look at the red parka in Callum’s arms. He had the same thick dark hair and posho in-bred features as Scott, and Callum hated him instantly.
Hospitals smelled like shit, and too many tones ofbeepfollowed him along the corridor to Lily’s room. He was walking quickly, and the pain in his stomach throbbed like a second pulse.
He knocked. Through the window he saw her flinch away from the sound, raising her arms above her chest.
‘Fuck,’ Lily groaned. ‘You scared the shit out of me.’
He threw his parka onto the end of the bed and took the wing-back plastic armchair, easing himself into it with a hand on the spot where his dressings were.
Lily eased herself back onto the pillows and raised an eyebrow. ‘Milking that little scratch, a bit, aren’t we?’
He stuck his middle finger up.
They fell into silence, and Callum examined her face. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Charming.’ Lil had dark circles under her eyes, and her skin had a slightly yellow, sun-deprived tone. She looked small in the big bed.
Her hands were trembling where they lay on the blanket. He’d bought her favourite hand cream from the Boots downstairs, but it was unopened on the bedside cabinet.
He picked up one of her hands. ‘I’m worried about you.’
She didn’t answer.
Trauma, Maxwell kept saying.You don’t go through a trauma like this and bounce back in a few weeks.
Callum ran his free hand over his hair, finally growing back post-buzz cut. ‘Have they given you any meds for the panic attacks, Lil?’
He couldn’t see her expression. Her profile was a silhouette against the sun.
‘It’s not a step backwards, you know, if you do go back onto meds. While you process all this shit – whileweprocess this shit. They might really help—’
‘It’s not that,’ she said, leaning back.
Suddenly she wasn’t blocking the light, and his vision was spotted with bright daubs of orange, rippling into blues and purples.
‘Cal – I’ve been thinking. I’ve not been able to do anything but think, in this shithole.’ She rubbed the dark bruise-coloured skin under her eyes. ‘And – I don’t really know how to say this—’
The brave face he was putting on, the steely optimism he’d summoned that morning in front of the mirror – both deserted him – replaced with a pressure on his chest, a crushing sensation. He gripped her hand tighter.
Tears were running down her cheeks, her nose. They both cried easily, now.
