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Sorry to hear about Max. I hope he’s okay. What was it you needed to talk about? I’m in the office today but can meet briefly at lunchtime?
Finally, I might get some answers.
I could navigate these hospital corridors with my eyes closed. It’s only been three days, but I feel as if I know the place as well as I know my house. Max is awake and staring at the ceiling when I step inside his room. He doesn’t even look at me as I approach.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask. It’s a pointless question – one look at him is enough to know.
‘Like I’ve been run over by a lorry.’ He still doesn’t look at me. ‘Visitors are coming in here wearing hats and scarves. It’s meant to be May.’
‘Max, you know?—’
‘I know!’ He says this so loudly that a nurse looks up from the patient she’s attending to.
‘Shh. Calm down. I know it must be weird.’
‘I don’t even know who I am any more.’
Neither do I. And that has nothing to do with your attack.
He turns to me. ‘I’m trying to find fragments of my life, and I can’t grasp hold of anything.’
‘It’s bound to feel strange, but you’ll get through it.’ I pour him some water. ‘Stefan was here – he’s sorting everything at work so you don’t have to worry about anything. And you might start to remember. This might not be permanent.’
He closes his eyes. ‘Yeah.’
‘Do you remember anything that was happening in the news?’
He screws up his face. ‘Like what?’
‘A woman was murdered in the River Walk Hotel. Her name was Alice Hughes. Do you remember hearing about that?’
‘No.’ His answer comes too quickly.
I pull out my phone and search for a photo of Alice from the local newspaper. ‘This is Alice.’ I show him the photo.
‘I’ve never seen her.’ Max’s face is unreadable.
‘And you’ve never been to that hotel?’
‘No, why? Why are you asking me this?’
I sit in the chair beside his bed. ‘Just trying to help you remember things, that’s all.’
‘I think I need to sleep,’ he says. ‘Do you mind? And I don’t want Poppy seeing me like this. Please don’t bring her again.’
I promise him I won’t, and then I slip out of the room as he’s drifting out of consciousness.
The café Paula asked me to meet her at is only a five-minute walk from the hospital. There’s a biting chill in the air, and above me the sky is a blanket of charcoal. I walk faster, just to keep warm, pulling my scarf up so it covers my chin.
Paula is already outside when I get there. I haven’t seen her since last year’s Christmas party, and her chestnut-brown hair looks different. It’s shorter now, just touching her shoulders, and she’s wearing rimless glasses, which I don’t remember her having before.
‘Hello, Hannah,’ she says, holding out her hand. Her voice is formal and gravelly, and there’s no warmth in her tone. Was she always this standoffish? ‘I don’t have long,’ she says. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate how much pressure we’re under since…since Max’s attack.’
‘Course. I know how hard it must be without him there. Especially since Peter left.’
Paula gestures to the door. ‘Let’s go in. Do you mind if I eat? I probably won’t get another chance. You don’t have to, though, if you don’t want to. I’m comfortable eating on my own.’ She doesn’t wait for an answer but heads inside.
‘I’m not hungry,’ I say to her back. ‘But I’ll have coffee.’
