"I'm afraid so. The neurosurgeon is hopeful that it's temporary, but of course it's hard for Patrick to believe that. He's had to have a lot of surgery and will have more. And he's very depressed, of course. He ... well, he took an overdose last night, but they found him in time."

"Oh, Mrs. Connell. Maeve. If only ... I mean, if ... if I'd known! I was in the cab with him when it happened," Georgia said, and her voice was very strong suddenly, no longer frightened or tentative at all. "He gave me a lift; he was terribly kind to me. And I was there when ... when he crashed."

"So ... did ... did you see what happened?" said Maeve, so quietly Georgia could hardly hear her.

"Yes, I did. Everything."

"Because, you see ... he thinks ... that is, he is convinced ... that it was his fault. That he went to sleep. That is what is so terrible. That's all he can remember-being sleepy. Even though most of the reports talk of another car going out of control in front of him."

"Oh, dear God. Maeve, I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that he did not go to sleep. No way. We were chatting; he was fine. Right up to the very last moment. I don't know how far all the enquiries have got, or what Patrick or you think, but I can tell you, absolutely for certain, that it wasn't Patrick's fault. Not in the very least."

"Patrick ... it's me, Maeve. How are you feeling now?"

"How you'd expect. Dreadful." And he did look it, back on all the machines and drips, propped up on high on the ICU bed, grey-white, his skin somehow transparent, his eyes sunken in his thin face. "Maeve, I keep telling you, stop coming here, for the love of God. Just leave me in peace."

"I know, Patrick, but ... but I have some news for you. Some very important news. You ... you know you said you thought you could remember someone in the van with you? Just before the crash? Well ... she's here. She's come to see you. A young girl, name of Georgia."

"I don't care. I don't want to see anyone. There's no point-"

"Patrick, there is. It's going to make all the difference, because she says she saw what happened."

"She saw me going to sleep? Is that what she saw?"

"No, no, Patrick that's exactly what she didn't see. She says-Will you see her Patrick, please? Just for a moment."

"Maeve, I'm too tired for girls with fairy stories. Why should I believe what she says? She'd have come before if it was true. I just wanted an end to it; they've robbed me of that. Now leave me be, will you?"

He closed his eyes; Maeve left the room and made her way along to Linda and Georgia.

"He ... oh, God, he says he doesn't want to see you. He says how can he believe you were there; why ... Oh, it was good of you to come, both of you, but I'm afraid there was no point. Not with Patrick, anyway. Maybe if you talked to the police again ..." She looked utterly defeated, her eyes swimming with tears. She tried to smile and failed totally; her mouth trembled and she bit her lip.

"Oh, dear. Oh, this is dreadful. Um ... Maeve ..." Georgia started rummaging in her bag. "Maeve, do you think this might make a difference? Here ..."

She put a small box into Maeve's hand.

"It's a watch. It was a birthday present for your mother. Patrick showed it to me, and then he gave it to me to look after. I've had it all this time."

Maeve took the box, opened it; a small watch lay inside. It was very pretty indeed, set in a diamante bracelet. She sat staring at it for a moment, then said, "I'll take it in to him. Thank you, Georgia. Thank you so much."

Five minutes later she came out again, smiling, her small, tearstained face radiant.

"He remembered it! Could you come in with me? Would that be all right?"

"Of course it would," said Georgia. "It'd be absolutely all right."

Alex Pritchard decided to go home. A tedious day with nothing to do in A&E was beginning to look even worse than trying to find a corner he could call his own at home. He'd just go up and make sure Maeve was all right and then leave.

He went into the relatives' room and found the red-haired woman sitting alone, talking into her mobile. She looked up at him, half smiled, and went on talking.

"Just tell them tomorrow that you haven't had any formal voice training, but you can sing well enough for the chorus. Yes, I'm pretty sure. You can put them on to me, if you like. Yes, of course. I'll be in the office. Now if you want me again this afternoon, just ring my mobile. Sure. Ciao."

She rang off and was clearly ready to make another call; it annoyed Alex. There were several notices in the room asking people not to use mobile phones.

"Sorry," he said, making a conscious effort to sound polite, "but you really are asked not to use your mobile on hospital premises."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I also know that it's a load of nonsense. It can't really interfere with equipment; it's just so you don't have patients rabbiting on all day in the wards. Which I completely sympathise with."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. It was a very nice smile. Didn't make up for a considerable arrogance, though. He didn't smile back.

"I'm afraid you're wrong," he said. "If everyone used their mobiles on hospital premises, especially an area like this, where we have extremely sensitive equipment, it would be very bad, so please stop using it. Or go outside."

"I ..." She stared at him, then stood up, switching off her mobile. "Then I shall go outside. This is a very important call, actually, to Georgia's mother. She wants to know where she is."

"And Georgia is ...?"

"The girl who's with me. I'm her agent. Look, we're wasting time. Or rather you're you're wasting wasting my my time. Good afternoon." time. Good afternoon."

She stalked off down the corridor. He looked after her. She had rather good legs. And an arrogant walk. She was a very arrogant woman altogether. He hoped this would be his last encounter with her.

As he stood there, Maeve and the girl came out of ICU; Maeve's face was literally shining. Georgia was swollen eyed and tearstained.

"Oh, Dr. Pritchard," said Maeve, clasping his hand. "I'm so glad you're here. Patrick's so much better, so much happier. Georgia here really has turned things round. Bless her heart!"

She smiled radiantly at Georgia, who managed a very watery, wobbly smile back.

"Yes, Georgia saw everything that happened, Dr. Pritchard. She was up in the cab of the lorry; Patrick was giving her a lift to London. And it wasn't Patrick's fault at all; something hit the windscreen and shattered it, so he couldn't see. Georgia has told him again and again that he was as good as blinded; there was nothing he could do. Now, isn't that the most wonderful news? And he's sitting in there, just ... just happy."

"Maeve, I'm so pleased for you. And good for you, Georgia, for coming forward."

"Not ... not really," said Georgia. "I mean, I ... well, I should have done it earlier."

"What matters is that you did it at all," said Maeve. "When I think of the state Patrick was in ..."

"Exactly," said Georgia. "I've just been a total wimp right from the beginning. I feel so ashamed of myself. But I have told the police everything now, so maybe ..."

"Well done," he said. "That doesn't sound too wimpy to me. No doubt they'll be along to talk to Patrick again. I'd better warn the patient liaison people, Maeve. They may well have been on to them already."

"Um ... do you know where Linda, my ... my agent, went?" said Georgia, looking around. "I thought she was going to wait here."

"Ah ..." Alex Pritchard looked rather uncomfortable. "She's ... she's gone outside. My fault, I'm afraid. She wanted to make some calls and I ... I suggested she did it outside the hospital. Look, why don't I take you down to the cafe, and you can wait there for ... for Miss ... Miss ..."

"Di-Marcello," said Georgia. "But she won't know we're there-"

"I'll tell the people up here to redirect her when she gets back."

"Oh, OK. That'd be very kind. Sorry, we're taking up a lot of your time."

Alex was disproportionately touched by this. Here was this girl, not much older than his own daughter from the look of her, actually aware that people other than her had pressures on their time. Extraordinary.

"That's perfectly all right," he said, and guided them towards the lift. "And Maeve, I'll wager Patrick wants to see those boys of yours now. Am I right?"

"You are indeed, Dr. Pritchard. He said to bring them tomorrow, to take them out of school."

"Excellent."

He smiled at her; he was obviously very fond of her, Georgia thought. What an amazingly nice man.

Linda was walking up the broad hospital steps, finishing a call when she saw him walking towards her. She scowled at him, rather exaggeratedly switching her phone off.

"Don't worry," she said, "I've finished. I'll just go up and collect Georgia; then we'll be out of your hospital for good."

"Well, she's in the cafe. That's what I was coming to tell you. I didn't want you to go on a wild-goose chase."

"Oh." She stared at him, clearly surprised. "Well, that's very ... kind of you."

"No, no. The hospital is vast; you can lose someone very easily."

"I could always have called her, you know," said Linda, "on my mobile. Had you not been around, of course." She looked at him, and then smiled. "Sorry. That was a cheap shot. I shouldn't have been using the phone. I do know that. I apologise if I was rude. It's been a bit of a weekend. No excuse, but ..."

"I can imagine. And I apologise in turn. It's been a bit of a one here too. Complete nightmare."

"Really?"

He looked different suddenly: shaken and less sure of himself. He was actually rather ... rather attractive, she thought. In a wild sort of way.

"Yes. I can't go into details, but ... well, suffice it to say I haven't had much sleep."

"Isn't that the norm, in your profession?"

"In my discipline, certainly."

"Your discipline?"

"Yes, I'm the A and E consultant. Pretty unpredictable lot of patients."

He smiled at her. He had an extraordinary smile; it had a fierce quality and Linda felt slightly disoriented by it.

"Anyway let me escort you to the cafe, make sure you and Georgia are safely reunited."

"I'm sure you've got better things to do."

"Right now, I don't think I have," he said, "as a matter of fact."

Georgia was drinking her coffee when a young man in a denim shirt sat down at her table.

"I ... wonder if you'd mind if I joined you."

"What ...? Oh, no, course not, go ahead."

She'd thought he meant just to sit and read or something; but he smiled rather determinedly at her.

"I ... that is, was it you in the lift an hour or so ago? Going up to ICU?"

"Might have been. I mean, I have been up there, yes."

God. She hoped he wasn't trying to chat her up. She looked at him. No, he was probably worried about someone.

"Do you have a relative up there?" she said.

"No, no. Not up there. You?"

"Oh ... no. Just a friend."

"Not Mr. Connell?"

"How do you know about Mr. Connell?"

"Oh ... most people do. In the hospital."

"Really? Well I ... I don't."

"Is that right? I thought I saw you with Mrs. Connell."

"You must have imagined it. Look ... who are you? Are you something to do with the hospital? Or ..."

"I suppose I'd better come clean," he said. "I'm a reporter. Daily Sketch." Daily Sketch." He held out his hand. "And you are ...?" He held out his hand. "And you are ...?"

Georgia stood up. She wasn't prepared at all for what she did next; it was as if she was watching someone else.

"You can just fuck off," she said, and her voice was very loud. "Fuck right off, away from me, away from the hospital, away from Patrick Connell. You are totally disgusting, writing lies about people, implying things you don't know are even remotely true."

She half ran out of the cafe.

All the other customers sat transfixed, staring first after her and then at Osborne, who stood up, trying to look as if he was in control of the situation, and then hurried out after her and into the car park, where both his car and his laptop were waiting.

CHAPTER 30

All she'd done was sigh. And it had been a very small, quiet sigh ... she'd thought. That nobody could possibly have heard. But that's what had done it. Had launched her into this dangerously stupid, totally wrong, and wonderfully right-feeling thing where every day, every minute was amazing and shiny, where everyone, however dull or unpleasant, seemed charming and amusing, where every task, however disagreeable or onerous, seemed engaging and fascinating. Where she felt calm and cool one moment, and dizzy and sparkly the next; where she looked in the mirror and smiled at herself; where she relived every conversation, every memory, every confidence, every sweet, small discovery, and yet still they seemed fresh and important and worthy of further examination still. Where she was, in a word ... or rather two ... in love. Absolutely, unquestioningly and for the time being, at least, most joyfully in love. And able to see that what she had felt for Luke had not been love at all; it had been finite, reasonable, entirely suitable in every way. How she felt about Barney was infinite, unreasonable, and entirely unsuitable; and it was the most important and defining thing that had ever happened to her.

He'd said he ought to go that afternoon, once he had seen Toby and knew he was all right. And he'd told Emma that he really should get back to London; there was some really important client coming in the next day, demanding to see the whole team, and Barney had work to do before then. Emma nodded and said yes, of course, and that she'd keep an eye on Toby but she was sure he'd be fine and would probably go home in a few more days.