Until Harry(83)

“Is it Nanny?” I asked, my heart in my throat.

My mother shook her head. “No, darling.”

“Uncle Harry?” I pressed, noticing he wasn’t in the room either.

My mother shook her head once more, but this time her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Tell me,” I almost shouted with panic.

My mother burst into tears and couldn’t speak around her sobs, so I looked to my father, who was frowning deeply at me. “Sit down, honey.”

“I don’t want to sit down,” I argued.

Kale, who was standing behind my father, came to my side and put his hand on my back, nudging my body to move towards the sofa, where I caved and sat down.

“Okay, I’m sitting down. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

My father blew out a saddened breath. “It’s Lavender,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

My mind went blank then, and any logical form of thinking went out the window. “What’s Lavender?” I asked dumbly.

My father looked positively gutted. “She was driving home from work today,” he said on a sorrowful sigh, “and got into an accident.”

I felt my stomach churn.

“Lavender was in a car accident?” I asked, sounding surprisingly calm.

I felt as if my voice was on a speakerphone, because it suddenly sounded robotic and slowed down, like I was tripping on something and was hearing things.

“Yes, sweetheart, she was,” my father replied, his eyes, and everyone else’s, watching me with intent.

I heard my heartbeat as it thudded away. “We have to go to the hospital,” I said, and tried to stand up, but Kale, who was still next to me, placed his hand on my knee, halting my movements.

I looked down to his hand, my eyes drilling holes into it. It was the first time since we had been together that he had touched me in a way that wasn’t a friendly hug or nudge. It made me look at him with fear of what he was going to say next. The despair I saw in his eyes cut me in half.

“No,” I said to him, almost glaring. “She’s okay.”

The muscles in his jaw rolled back and forth, and he stared at me. “I’m so sorry.”

“No!” I said louder. “She’s okay, she’s just in the hospital—”

“Her dad rang your mum, Lane.” Kale cut me off, the hurt he felt for me plastered over his face.

I became aware of everything.

My heartbeat.

The churning in my stomach.

The sweat gathering in the palms of my hands.

“Laney Baby,” he murmured, and lifted his hand to my face. “I’m so sorry.”

Shut up, my mind screamed.

I shook my head. “It’s not true.”

“She died, kid,” he whispered. “Her injuries were too much for her to overcome.”

I gripped onto my stomach when it lurched. “I’m going to be sick,” I muttered.

I felt his arms come around me. One second I was in the sitting room with my family, and the next I was running up the stairs with Kale right on my heels. I made it into the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet. Kale was holding my hair back for me with one hand and rubbing my back with the other.

When I was finished, I sat back on my heels and took the tissue Kale offered me. I wiped my mouth, threw the tissue in the toilet and flushed it. I went still then and just repeated what Kale had said about Lavender over and over in my mind.

She died, kid.

“I have to go to the hospital,” I said to Kale without looking at him. “I have to see Lavender.”

Kale helped me to my feet and held onto my arm tightly as we descended the stairs. I walked straight to the front door and opened it, causing a stir behind me.

“Where is she going?” my mother asked, her voice rising an octave.

Kale sighed. “She wants to go to the hospital.”

My mother began to cry again, and I didn’t know why, but it was annoying me, so I walked out of the house and waited by my brother’s car. Lochlan came outside and unlocked the doors, so I got inside and sat in the back seat, buckling my seatbelt.

Both my brother and Kale got into the car, and neither of them spoke to each other, or to me, as Lochlan backed out of the garden and drove to the hospital. It was the longest car journey of my life, but in reality it was only a few minutes. When we got there, Kale came into the hospital with me and did the talking at reception when I just stared at the lady who was asking me stupid questions.

He got permission for us to go to the family room at the back of the hospital near the morgue, and we walked together in silence.

“Say something, Lane,” he pleaded.

I swallowed. “I have to see Lavender.”

We came to a door with “Family Room” printed very clearly on it, and Kale lightly knocked. A few seconds later, a man opened the door, a man with bloodshot, swollen eyes, a man who was Lavender’s father.