Page 102 of Prove You Wrong

Oldton isn’t a huge place. There’s a good chance I might know these teenagers, or their relatives. A shiver runs down my back again with a feeling of foreboding. One I just can’t shake. Ella’s twenty-two; she’s not a teenager. I try and rationalise my fear. She wasn’t out this evening anyway. But what if the rumours are wrong? What if she was out in that rust-bucket of a car? Shit.

‘Anyway, I’d better process this,’ the nurse continues. ‘Thanks again.’

Drop off completed, I head back out to the main corridor, the clench in my belly tightening, my lungs not quite able to expand.

My leathers squeak as I walk briskly along the deserted walkway. The directory of wards and departments catches my eye and I find my feet leading me down the back stairs towards A&E.

I descend a couple of levels and then push through some double doors. Triage is in chaos. There are trolleys lining the walls. Someone is screaming out behind a curtain. Blurs of blue and green are rushing around.

Striding past, I dodge medical professionals hustling around doing their best to help. I feel bad for getting in the way — for imposing in the space — but I can’t stop myself. I’m inexplicably drawn to the waiting room. I remember where it is. Could never forget.

The vision of collecting Scott from here eight years ago — the night his best friend died in a traffic accident — is clear in my memory. Luckily, I haven’t had to come back to this particular spot since.

I tell myself I’m just passing through to the exit, but really, I have to know.

Another set of double doors and I’m surrounded by a sea of faces. A group of people all whip around, looking to see if I’m someone bringing them news about their loved one. Then big brown doe-eyes find mine and there’s a moment of relief before the penny drops. It’s like a knife in my heart.

‘Nate,’ Ella chokes out, tears streaming down her blotchy face.

I’ve covered the distance to her by the time she’s stood up and she clings to me, her face buried in my neck as she sobs.

‘What’s happened? Is it Chloe?’ My arms close around her back and I rub circles, trying to soothe her.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she cries.

I whisper useless platitudes into her hair. I’m telling her it’s going to be okay, but I don’t even know what’s wrong, let alone if it will be okay. I don’t know anything. I just squeeze her tighter. There’s nothing I can do.

‘She was in an accident,’ she eventually whispers, face still pressed into my neck. ‘She’s — ’ Ella looks towards the clinical area and breaks down into tears again.

‘What have they told you?’ Pulling her in close, I try to cocoon her, wrapping my arms around her. I stroke her hair as I murmur, ‘How’s she doing?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. They told all the families to wait here,’ she says through sniffs. ‘They haven’t told us anything. Surely if she was okay, they’d have come down by now?’

She looks up and wipes at her face. It’s as if she sees me for the first time. ‘Wait. How did you know to come here? What are you wearing?’

‘I didn’t know. I was doing a delivery and had thisfeeling.I had to come and check.’

She’s staring at me wide-eyed and I realise how strange it sounds. But it’s the truth. I had the worst feeling — a knot of fear that something happened to Ella — and somehow I was right.

I grasp her shoulders with both hands, and stare into those chocolate-coloured pools. ‘What can I do? Do you want me to go and ask someone what’s happening?’

She shakes her head. ‘They need all the staff to work on the kids.’ Her voice breaks at the end and fat tears fall down her cheeks again.

‘Chloe’s going to be okay.’ I fight to keep my voice strong for her. ‘She’s in the best place.’

‘There were ten of them. In the accident.’ She sniffs and buries her head into my shoulder again. The scent of her shampoo drifts up to me as I rest my chin on top of her hair.

Across the room, I see Ella’s friend, Josie, resting her head onto an older lady’s shoulder and realise that Josie’s family must be involved too. The older lady looks familiar, but I can’t place her. I figure it must be her mum.

It dawns on me that Gabby should be here. ‘Where’s your mum, Ella?’

‘I can’t get hold of her.’ A frown creases her brow. ‘Often on shift, she’s so busy she doesn’t check her phone. I’ve left countless messages.’ She pulls her mobile out and taps the screen, as if to check for a response. ‘I don’t know what else to do,’ she sighs. ‘I can’t go and look for her. What if Chloe needs me here?’

‘Where does she work?’

‘The nursing home, but sometimes she picks up the odd community care work shift. I don’t know where she is.’ Ella breaks down again and I hold her to my chest.

‘I’ll find her.’ I pull her in even tighter.

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