Page 133 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“His bones mended, but not his head,” she whispered.
“When did it happen?” Devan asked.
“Five months ago.” She and Jonty spoke at the same time.
Oh God.Five months ago, Devan had thought his world had ended when he’d opened the door on his brother and Ravi. Looking at Tay put that right in perspective. Devan didn’t need telling to get over it, but now he really was over it. Five months just lying here unable to do anything for himself. He hoped Tay wasn’t aware of his situation.
Devan didn’t want to ask the obvious question, so he didn’t.
“Open your eyes, Tay,” his mother said. “Meet Jonty’s friend.”
Tay still didn’t respond.
She straightened up and put a smile on his face. “He’s going to get better.”
“Listen to your mother, Tay.” Jonty’s voice broke. “Stop messing around and come back to us. We miss you. I miss surfing with you, sharing chips, telling jokes. I miss annoying you.”
You love him.An ache started up in Devan’s chest.
“Do the doctors know what’s wrong?” Devan asked.
“There’s a disagreement as to whether Tay’s in a minimally conscious state or a vegetative state,” she said.
Neither sounded good. “What’s the difference?” Devan watched as Jonty stroked Tay’s hand.
“Minimally conscious means the person shows a very small amount of awareness, but it’s not consistent. Tay sometimes moves a finger when I ask him to, don’t you, darling? Or squeezes my hand. Or opens his eyes and seems to be aware of what he’s looking at, as he just did with you.”
“A vegetative state is when a person’s awake but shows no signs of awareness,” Jonty said. “They might open their eyes or blink when they’re startled or pull back if you press on them too hard. But they don’t respond to voices or follow objects with their eyes. Tay’s responded to my voice and to his mum’s. And to yours now.”
“He’snotvegetative,” his mother said. “I won’t accept that. It’s a horrible term.”
Devan agreed. It had to be awful hearing doctors compare someone you loved to a vegetable.
She turned to Devan. “Jonty has been wonderful. He comes two or three times a week and talks to him, reads to him, listens to music with him. Hewillget better. We promised him, didn’t we Jonty?”
“Yes.” Jonty’s voice was quiet. “Are you listening, Tay? This is getting annoying now, mate. You’re missing some great waves. I rode a double header the other day. I’m going to be better than you, all the practice I’ve had. I know that will piss you off.”
Tay opened his eyes again and looked at Jonty, then turned his head a little to look at Devan before he closed them.
“Tracking,” Philippa whispered. “Oh sweetheart.”
Devan swallowed hard. Had jealousy achieved what love had failed to accomplish? But further comments by Jonty produced no response.
Jonty pushed to his feet. “We have to go now, Philippa. I told Devan I’d make him one of my famous pizzas.” He turned to Tay. “Like anchovies on yours, Tay?”
Tay groaned and both Jonty and Tay’s mother froze.
“Lots and lots of anchovies. I know how much you adore them,” Jonty said. “Those little fishy heads and bones.”
Tay groaned again. But although Jonty kept talking, Tay was still again.
His mother showed them out. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know how I’d manage without you, Jonty.”
Jonty hugged her and Devan’s heart sank. How was he supposed to persuade Jonty to go to London now?
Chapter Eighteen
DEVAN CLICKED OPEN THE CARand he and Jonty climbed in.
