Fractured(94)

‘Although to be on the safe side, I may just get you a hard hat for a wedding present.’

‘That’ll look nice with a veil!’

‘What I’m more worried about,’ he said in a different tone, ‘is what might happen if your memory does suddenly come back and you wake up and find yourself married to the wrong man. What if you realise it was Matt you really wanted to be with?’

There was a vulnerability in his eyes I don’t think I had ever seen before.

‘So the amnesia is cured but for some reason I’m going to go completely stupid?’

He tried a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I guess we’re both worrying about something so ludicrous it’s never going to happen.’


The long silver car, decorated with white ribbons, was waiting by the kerb. Some neighbours were watching from their front doors and gardens as my father and I emerged from the house. From somewhere nearby a small child cried out in delight, and someone started to clap, which rippled around the street.

In the back seat of the car, my father reached up to brush away a long strand of hair which had blown across my face.

‘My beautiful daughter,’ he said with a smile, as the car pulled away from the house and began the short journey to the church.


The nurse made very little noise as she entered the small side room. Nevertheless her entry startled the man seated beside the bed. He looked up in concern but seeing she was alone he relaxed a little.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked kindly, her hands busy straightening the bed covers that never needed tidying at all.

‘No thank you,’ he replied politely.

She looked down on him sympathetically. He looked so frail and weak, as though he should be the one occupying the bed. He hadn’t missed a single day, holding vigil by her bedside. They said he wasn’t even going for his own treatments any more. It was so heartbreaking for the nursing staff to see. They all felt so utterly useless.

She crossed over to the column of machinery located beside the bed, her hand reaching for a dial.

‘I’ll turn this down for you, shall I? It can be a bit irritating.’

‘No, please don’t,’ pleaded the man brokenly. ‘I like to hear it. The louder the better. It proves to me she’s still with us.’

The nurse swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, but did as he requested and turned the dial up instead of down.

The sound of the loud persistent beeping of the life support alarm filled the room.


The car swept up to the entrance of the church. Waiting by the lich-gate was Sarah, resplendent in her deep red maid of honour dress. My dad offered me his hand as I climbed from the car. Sarah immediately swooped in and began to busy herself straightening out non-existent creases from my dress. I looked down at my old friend, busy at my feet, a question in my eyes.

She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘Of course he’s here.’

I gave a small smile of pure relief.

‘He’s waited his whole life for this moment, Rachel. Where else would he be?’


The nurse left them alone, understanding the man wanted every last precious moment of privacy. He looked down lovingly on his beloved daughter lying immobile in her hospital bed. He didn’t see the tubes and pipes linking her to the machine keeping her alive. He just saw his only child, lying lost in a sleep so deep she couldn’t wake up.

‘Daddy’s here,’ he murmured softly, as tears fell once again down his cheeks.

He reached out to touch her face, scarcely noticing the old white forked-lightning scar that ran from forehead to cheek. With trembling fingers he reached up to brush away a long strand of hair which had fallen across her face.

‘My beautiful daughter,’ he cried brokenly.

The nurse gave a discreet knock upon the door before entering this time.

‘I just wanted to let you know that Dr Whittaker has just arrived. He’ll be here in about ten minutes or so.’

‘So soon?’ asked the man in panic.

It was all happening so fast, there was so little time left.

Alone in the room once more he reached out for the small bottle he kept in the drawer of her nightstand. His fingers shook as he tried to undo the stopper and several drops fell upon the pillow beside her. He dabbed some of the distinctive aftershave upon his hollow cheeks.

They’d told him a long time ago that she might still be able to hear and smell things, even from the depths of her coma. So he wore it always when he was here, hoping somehow the old and familiar fragrance could pierce through the veil and let her know that he was here with her. That she wasn’t alone.

‘You’ve been so brave, my love,’ he whispered close to her face. ‘I know you don’t want to leave me alone. But I’ll be all right.’ He broke off then as the tears choked his words.