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Back Day of the Accident
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. What readers are saying about
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. Part Two
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. Part Three
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. Epilogue
  69. Acknowledgements
  70. THE NEXT THRILLER BY NUALA ELLWOOD
  71. THE BEGINNING

‘Sean,’ I say. ‘Where have you gone? I can’t see you. Where have you taken her?’

I hear a noise and my eyes open. I see the end of my hospital bed and Claire coming in the door. Then it hits me. Why I’m here. What I’ve done.

‘How are we doing, Maggie?’ says Claire, smiling as she comes towards me.

I don’t answer her. My head is still in the dream. If I focus on it enough, perhaps I can go back there. To Elspeth. And Sean.

‘I’m just going to check your blood pressure,’ she says, moving to the monitor by the side of the bed.

I listen to her muttering numbers that don’t make sense to me. She says it’s ‘all good’.

‘Could you tell me where Sean is?’ I ask. ‘My husband?’

‘I should really go and get Dr Elms, he –’

‘No,’ I say. ‘You don’t need Dr Elms, just tell me where Sean is.’

The colour drains from her face as she pulls the chair out from beside the bed and sits down.

‘What is it?’ I say, dread rising up from my stomach to my chest.

Claire grasps my hand. ‘Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. He’s fine.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ I gasp, lying back on the pillow. ‘Thank God for that. So, where is he? Can I see him?’

I look to Claire for some sort of reassurance but she just shakes her head.

‘What do you mean?’ I cry. ‘Where is he?’

‘We don’t know,’ says Claire. ‘What we do know is that six weeks ago Sean left the unit to collect some things from home. He returned a couple of hours later, left something at the reception desk then walked out.’

‘Walked out? What do you mean?’

Claire looks at me sadly.

‘It’s horrible to have to tell you this, Maggie, what with everything else you’re having to deal with,’ she says. ‘But he hasn’t been back since that night. It seems that your husband … Sean has disappeared.’

7

Monday 24 July

I have been transferred from the ICU to a ward. They tell me I’m recovering well. My speech is improving and my blood pressure has gone down, my heart rate is sound and the threat of my lungs becoming infected has lessened. ‘All good,’ said Claire, repeating her favourite mantra, as the porters wheeled me down here.

All good.

How can she say that?

My child is dead. My husband has disappeared. There is nothing good any more.

The woman beside me has pulled the curtains round her bed. The other two patients in the ward, an elderly woman and a teenage girl, have had a steady stream of visitors all morning. It’s the girl’s birthday and her family are gathered round the bed, clutching balloons and toasting her with plastic cups of fizzy pop.