Page 132 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
Devan ended the call and powered down his phone. He took a few deep breaths before he carried on to his destination.
WHEN HE KNOCKED ON THEdoor, a pretty middle-aged woman opened it.
“You must be Devan. I’m Tay’s mother, Philippa.”
Devan shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Come and meet Tay. Jonty says you don’t know anything about my son other than him being Jonty’s best friend.”
“No.” What was she getting at? What hadn’t Jonty told him?
She led Devan to a door on the left and pushed it open. As Devan took in the hospital bed, he registered that somewhere in his subconscious he’d suspected it would be something like this. Jonty lay on the bed next to Tay. They were both asleep.
“Oh Jonty,” Tay’s mother whispered. She went over and gently shook Jonty’s arm. “Devan’s here.”
Jonty jerked awake, then smiled when he saw Devan. He pushed to his feet and walked over.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked Devan.
“A black coffee, one sugar, would be lovely, thank you.”
After she’d left, Jonty wrapped his arms around Devan. “Did Hamish say yes?”
Devan nodded.
Jonty smiled. “Of course he did. How could he resist your talented silver tongue?”
“While you’re thinking that… Will you come and live with me in London?”
Jonty’s eyes widened. Tay groaned and Jonty spun round to the bed. “Come and meet Tay.” He took Devan’s hand and pulled him over. “Tay, this is Devan. Mr Impossible, remember? Open your eyes and look at him. He’s got his suit on and he looks so sexy and sophisticated. He doesn’t mind when I annoy him. You always said I needed someone like that. I wish—”
The door opened. Tay’s mother came in with two coffees and put them on a side table. “Yours is on the left, Jonty.”
“Thank you,” Devan said. “Jonty was just introducing me.” He turned to the bed, guessing he should behave as if the guy was conscious and upright. “Hello, Tay.”
Devan hadn’t expected him to open his eyes, but he did. Bright blue eyes that focused on him for a long moment before they closed again.
“Oh my God,” Tay’s mother gasped. “Did you see that? He stared right at you.”
“He did!” Jonty hugged her.
“Does he…not do that?” Devan asked.
She let out a tremulous sigh. “Sometimes he opens his eyes and looks as though he understands what he’s seeing. Other times there’s a blankness there. I cling to everything that gives me hope.” She turned to her son. “Tay, open your eyes again, sweetheart and look at Jonty’s friend.
Tay didn’t respond.
Devan stared at the pale young man in the bed. “Is he in a coma?”
She shook her head. “He was at first after his accident, but then he recovered a little.”
“What happened?”
Jonty sat on the chair next to the bed and took hold of Tay’s hand. “He was up a ladder at the back of the house, cleaning a gutter. The ladder slipped and he fell.”
“No one was in,” his mum whispered. “I came home and found him lying on the ground unconscious, blood everywhere, the ladder next to him. I don’t know how long he’d been there. I called for an ambulance and I held his hand and talked to him and told him he was going to be all right.” She gave a quiet sob. “I promised him that he’d be all right.”
Tay groaned, but didn’t open his eyes.
