Losing Lila by Sarah Alderson

Author:Sarah Alderson [Alderson, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780857071972
Google: 2X7JD0034mkC
Amazon: B007IL4WH6
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2012-08-01T07:00:00+00:00

28

Dr Roberts was standing by the nurses’ station when I walked onto the intensive care ward. He was chatting away with the same nurse that I’d seen in the canteen and from the way she kept touching his shoulder and giggling I could tell she wanted to touch a whole lot more of the good doctor. She frowned at me in irritation when I appeared at his side.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Hi,’ Dr Roberts replied. ‘You’re here late. It’s outside visiting hours.’

I knew that. It was past midnight. I’d had one of the cars parked outside the house drive me back to the base. I had needed to see Jack.

‘Can I just pop in and see him?’ I pleaded with a smile.

The doctor nodded, smiling back. ‘Sure, just not for long. Fifteen minutes, OK?’

‘OK,’ I said, already hurrying down the corridor.

I glared at the guard standing like a pillar in front of Jack’s room until he moved out of my way. I opened the door, stepped inside, shut the door behind me and then froze.

The bed was empty. I stared at the rumpled sheet and the loosely dangling IV, dripping its viscous saline solution onto the floor. I registered that the hum and hiss of the respirator had stopped. The machine to the left of the bed was flatlining in silence. I turned round slowly, breathing haltingly, my knees shaking. The room was empty. They’d taken him. They had taken him. I felt my knees give way. But then something else registered. Why were they still guarding the door if they’d taken him?

I heard the handle to the bathroom being turned and spun round, hurling the vase from the table towards the door just as it flew open. I started, only just managing to catch the vase before it smashed down onto Jack’s head. He ducked anyway, and looked up at the floating crystal shape filled with blooms and then over to me. He raised an eyebrow as if to say are you trying to kill me?

I stared at him. He was standing upright, unaided, in his boxer shorts, looking like he’d just spent ten days in a spa, not in a coma. How was that possible? The doctor had mentioned paralysis, wheelchairs, physio, and here he was walking around as if he was warming up for a marathon. My gaze fell to his chest, to the place where he’d been shot.

There was no gauze. No wound. Nothing. Just clean, bare, unblemished skin.

I lost my grip. The vase shot towards the floor. Jack reacted before I could blink, diving to catch it before it crashed into a million shards. He straightened up, throwing me a glare, and nodding his head at the door and the hulking shadow looming behind it.

I didn’t follow his gaze. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his chest. From the place where there should have been a great big hole, or at the very least the bloody, puckered remains of a scar, and instead all there was to see was perfect eggshell skin.

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