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It’s not your fault, I want to tell him.None of it was your fault. It was all down to me. Well, and Ben, obviously.I want to tell him all of this, but I’m just so tired. So very, very tired. And now I’m thinking about Ben again, which really isn’t helping.
“Emerald,” says Jack, sounding worried. “Talk to me, baby. Say something. It doesn’t matter what it is.”
I want to tell him that I might not be able to name the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Can anyone, though?), but I can remember everything I’ve ever known about Jack. I know every line of his face off by heart, and the exact shade of blue his eyes go when he’s sad. I know he secretly listens to Taylor Swift in the car, even though he always denies it; that no one has ever beaten him in a pub quiz, and that he’s the exact opposite of Ben, in every possible way.
Most of all, I know I’m going to love him for the rest of my life; and it’s incredibly important that I tell him this immediately.
“He thought I was a coffee table,” I murmur, opening my eyes with great difficulty. “Acoffee table.”
And then I pass out.
Chapter 27
Iwake up in a hospital room: which is horrific for me, because I hate hospitals.
McTavish’s girlfriend —ex-girlfriend — Mary is standing by the bed: which isalsokind of horrific, really, because McTavish is right behind her, looking like a man who expects to be offered a nice plate of mackerel at any second.
“Jack. Where’s Jack?”
I struggle into a sitting position, relieved to find there aren’t any tubes or machines attached to me, because I’d hate to have to rip them all out and lurch out into the hallway to look for him, but I would do it if I had to.
Fortunately for me, though, as soon as I’m upright I see him sitting in a chair beside my bed, looking a bit pale and rumpled, but still the absolute best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
It occurs to me that I’m quite possibly on some kind of powerful drugs at the moment.
“She’s awake,” he exclaims, jumping up. “Nurse, she’s awake.”
“Aye, I can see that by the fact that she’s sitting up,” says Mary patiently, coming over and flashing a little light into my eyes, which makes me blink. As she steps back, I take the opportunity to have a quick look around. I’m in a spartan-looking private room which smells exactly like the nursing home we visited …. was that really just this morning? I swallow nervously, hoping they’re going to let me leave more or less immediately.
“Hiya, Emerald,” Mary says, smiling down at me. “Now, you’re in the hospital, love. You’ve had a wee accident, but you’re going to be fine: just some bruised ribs and a wee concussion. Do you remember what happened?”
“Well, Jack and I were on a break,” I begin, glancing anxiously at him. “But McTavish had asked us both to go to the nursing home to see his grandad. See, during the war, he—”
“Aye, that’s fine,” says Mary, making a note on a clipboard that’s hanging from the bottom of the bed. I make a mental note to check it later to see what she’s said about me. “I dinnae need ye to go as far back as the war; I just wanted to check ye hadnae lost yer memory.”
“Jeremy Hunt!” I yell suddenly. “It’s Jeremy Hunt!”
“Er, no, hen, that’s just McTavish,” says Mary, looking worried. “Maybe I’ll just call for a doctor…”
“No, the Chancellor of the Exchequer is Jeremy Hunt,” I tell her, feeling quite proud to have somehow extracted this piece of information from my brain, because I didn’t even know it was in there. “Look, I’m fine, Mary, honestly,” I go on. “I remember everything. I was in a car crash. With Ben.”
“It wisnae really acrashas such,” McTavish puts in. “That bampot who was driving just steered right into the ditch. That’s what ye get for paying someone from The Crown £20 to do ye a favor, I suppose. He should’ve gone to The Northern. Ye’d get a much better quality of kidnapping from The Northern.”
“It wasn’t really his fault,” I say, remembering. “It was Ben’s. He distracted the driver. WhereisBen, by the way? And the other two? Are they all okay?”
“Oh, they’re physically fine,” says Jack grimly. “But Ben’s currently in a cell, waiting for his lawyer to arrive so he can be interviewed. He better hope he can afford a better one than I can, though.”
This seems very unlikely to me, but I don’t have the energy to think too much about Ben and what might happen to him, so I let it go for now.
“You were the only one not wearin’ a seat belt,” says McTavish. “So you were the only one who was hurt. I think Dylan wants to speak to ye about the seat belt thing, by the way. Ye ken how he is about safety in cars. Anyway, the rest o’ them were fine. The other two are probably back in The Crown by now. Although I expect the police will be wantin’ another wee word with them too, soon enough.”
“I hope they don’t get in too much trouble,” I say. “They were quite nice, really. Well, for kidnappers. Terrible drivers, but okay kidnappers.”
“Aye. Well, you would know, I suppose,” says McTavish, doubtfully. “Anyway, does anybody want a coffee or something, now a’ the excitement’s over? I think I saw a machine at the entrance. I quite fancy a KitKat, myself.”
Jack and I shake our heads, and McTavish leaves, quickly followed by Mary, who I really hope isn’t going to follow him down to the vending machine for a chat about getting back together.
“Sorry about that,” says Jack, as the door closes behind them. “They let me come with you in the ambulance, but McTavish insisted on following in my car. His dad’s here, too. I think he’s in the cafe.”
