‘Was it as quick for you in the end? You and the sylph and the old woman who should have been put off the road years ago. You were not supposed to be there. I won’t have blood on my hands… not now… not then.
‘I’ll be back again. I know I can trust you to keep my secrets safe in your deep, dark well.
Hand on mouth. Tight. Door closes. Shivers on skin. Water in mouth. Stomach cramps. Can’t hold back. Imelda must come. Make me clean again… please… please come. I am soiled. I am nothing.
Jake here. Shame… shame…
‘Imelda…Imelda! Nadine needs attention.’
No one comes. Holds his eyes on mine… a new word… jewels… jewels… jewels…
‘Look at me, Nadine. Don’t think of anything else. None of this matters. You are my love… my love.’
He makes me clean. Basin. Sponge. Towel. Napkin. Opens window. Wind good. Air fresh.
Imelda sorry.
‘Terrible that you had to do that, Jake. We need two pairs of hands in this job, cutbacks… cutbacks… Are you sure you can manage? I’m run off my feet this evening.’
‘Yes. I’ll always manage.’
Jewels… jewels…
‘This is your painting, Nadine. It’s beautiful. I’m going to hang it here so that you can see it. And this angel, Aurora sends it with her love. I’m leaving it here on your bedside locker. Can you see? The angel of the veil, she calls it. Crazy woman, her and her dancing angels.’
Not jewels… tears! Tears falling everywhere.
And another word… love….
Days pass… words come when I don’t struggle. Like snowflakes on my tongue… then gone. Then back. Rain falls. Rain stops. Colours. Sky. Rainbow. Jake here. Kisses. Soft lips. Goes. Samantha drew rainbow and Sam too… and Brian… Ali… rainbow pictures on fridge… rainbow on angel wings… on wall. Rainbow on wall. See it. Count it. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Tap fingers. Seven times. Rainbow angel prism. Is promise. Tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap…
Chapter 71
Jake
Imelda had warned him. Nadine was restless, constant eye twitches, her hand jerking towards the metal frame of the bedside locker and banging against it. Jake sat beside her bed and switched on her iPod. Usually, she was calm when she heard her favourite music but not today. Her knuckles were clenched and reddened as she beat against the metal locker. He tried to ignore the sound, hoping she would become exhausted from the repetitive motion. When this failed he placed his hand over hers, willed her to be easy. Her fingers twitched against his palm and he, aware that he was causing her distress, released his grip.
‘Guess what? Feral’s had a baby boy. Matthew. She’s as bad as Daryl with the mobile. Did I tell you about the attic? Remember you said we should have a window overlooking the estuary. The architect says it’s possible. Anything’s possible, Nadine. Anything.’
Was Eoin right when he claimed that whistling in the wind was as effective as these rambling one-sided conversations? Nadine’s breathing was laboured today, a harsh rasp that worried him. Did she need oxygen? Her head jerked sideways towards the bedside locker. Her eyelids fluttered. He had withstood the temptation to throw the tacky little figurine away and, instead, placed it on the locker in the hope that she could see it. What had Aurora called it? Pasket…or something peculiar like that.
‘I spent the morning working in the attic,’ he continued. ‘I never realised there was so much space up there. It’ll make a better studio than the barn. Daryl has drawn up an amazing business plan. All he needs to do is convince the bank to lend. We’ve decided to call it Tõnality Recording Studio. That was your name. Remember when we were trying to come up with one for our company and you said, “What about Tõnality?’’
Nadine tapped once then stopped. Two more taps at a faster tempo. Three beats and the tempo increased. She ended with four rapid beats and her eyes closed as if the convulsive effort of moving her fist had finally tired her out. She opened her eyes after a moment and banged the locker again. Suddenly, alert to the beat of her knuckles, Jake’s body tensed. That awareness, her sharp focus, was she demanding his attention? He listened again. It was the same sequence. Could she possibly be communicating with him in his own language? Crotchet, quaver, triplet, semi quaver? In sync with her beat and hardly daring to breathe, he placed the palm of his hand underneath her finger. Her knuckles, he noticed, were grazed and swollen.
‘Tap once if you can hear me.’
Tap!
‘Are you making music?’
Tap!
‘Do you know me?’
Tap!
‘Am I Brian?’
Tap... tap!
‘Samuel?’
Tap… tap!
‘Jake?’
Tap!
‘Oh… my darling… my darling…’
Her eyelashes fluttered, not randomly as he had been led to believe but slowly, as if the muscles controlling them were moving to her own internal command. Sunshine spilled through the window and bathed the ward in a white glare. Her eyes once again slid sideways in the direction of the bedside locker. The angel figurine glistened, its shadow elongated against the wall. Her eyes fastened on the wings, glitzy blue sequins. He was attuned to her emotions, his senses alert to every movement she made.
‘Are you frightened, Nadine?’
Tap!
‘Are you afraid of the nurses… the doctors?’
Tap… tap!
‘Of me?’
Tap… tap!
‘Blue? Are you afraid of blue?’
Tap!
Her breathing became stressed.
‘Karin was here?’
Tap!
‘How often has she come. Once… twice…’
Tap… tap! A trickle of perspiration gathered in the hollow of her throat. Her hand was clammy, cold.
‘Many times?’
Tap!
Imelda entered. Her smile disappeared when she heard Nadine’s breathing.
‘She needs oxygen,’ she said. ‘ I’m going to call Dr Coyle immediately.’
‘Car.’ He spoke directly to Nadine. ‘Was there a car leaving Sea Aster on the night of the crash?’
Tap!
‘Do you hear me, Jake?’ The nurse’s voice carried the full weight of her authority. ‘Nadine needs attention. You must leave while I attend to her.’
He paced the corridor until Imelda emerged from the ward.
‘Nadine is communicating with me.’ He spoke quietly, knowing it was important to remain calm for her sake. ‘That’s why she’s hitting the bedside locker. She’s been trying to attract my attention.’
‘Involuntary spasms. We’ve explained this to you already. She’s bruised her knuckles quite badly. If it continues we’ll have to place her hands in gloves to prevent her hurting herself any further.’
He had seen such gloves, soft but obscenely puffed up like those worn by a boxer, used to prevent patients pulling their tubes out.
‘Don’t you dare touch her.’ His chest heaved. ‘My wife is conscious, aware, communicating. I want to see her neurologist immediately.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Saunders.’ Imelda’s tone became formal, her professional mask keeping him at bay. ‘Professor Daly is an extremely busy man and according to the Glasgow Coma Scale – ’
‘Fuck the Glasgow Coma Scale and listen to me.’ Composure was no longer an option. ‘Does a woman called Karin Moylan visit my wife?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘There’s no need to be abusive, Mr Saunders.’
‘Does she?’
‘I don’t recall that name. Check at reception. If she’s been here she’ll have signed the visitor’s book. I know you’re upset. Believe me, we all want what’s best for Nadine.’
He left her talking to the air and took the elevator to the reception desk. The receptionist showed him the list of names from the previous weeks. She had no recollection of anyone called Karin signing in. Jake scanned the signatures. Not so many visitors now, although he noticed that Hart came regularly. He had talked to Jake about working on Nadine’s chakras. Positive energy released into the white light of awareness. No sign of Karin’s name anywhere. Jessica Walls had been to see her. Quite a few visits, which surprised him. He had not realised she and Nadine were that friendly. She always came outside visiting hours on Wednesday evening when he was at band practice.