“They’ll like that,” Mower said, glancing at the case of records that Dizzy had dumped beside his chair. “We’ve got a hi-fi system locked away somewhere. It’s too risky to leave it out when there’s no one here.”
“Tell me about it,” Dizzy said. “So, are you jacking in the job, then?”
“I don’t know,” Mower said. “I’ve got another couple to weeks to make up my mind.”
“Do it
“Damaged, anyway.” Mower smiled wryly.
“So get a life,” Dizzy said emphatically. “If the head-banging hurts, give it up, for God’s sake.”
“It’s not as easy as all that,” Mower said. “I owe people.”
“You owe yourself more,” Dizzy said flatly. “If you don’t look after yourself no one else will.”
“Maybe,” Mower said. He glanced at his watch. “We break for lunch in five minutes. Have a chat to the kids and then we’ll go for a pint.”
Dizzy leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and stretched his long legs.
“Sounds OK to me,” he said. But even as he closed his eyes, there was a commotion at the door and Mower sprang to his feet in alarm as a couple of young boys in school uniform burst in.
“Is Emma Maitland’s mum here?”
“She’s been right sick down by Priestley.”
“She needs her mum, quick!”
Mower’s heart lurched as he took in the urgency of the children’s voices.
“I’ll get her,” he said and hurried back into the classroom where Donna looked up in alarm.
“Can you come? It’s Emma,” Mower said. The colour drained from her face, turning it putty coloured beneath her careful make-up. She grabbed her coat and bag from the teacher’s desk and hurried to the door. In the reception area, Mower took hold of Dizzy B’s arm and thrust a set of keys into his hand.
“Mind the shop for us, can you? We’ve got an emergency,” he said. “Don’t leave the place unlocked, for Christ’s sake. See the kids off the premises and if you’ve gone when I get back I’ll catch up with you later on your mobile.”
Donna was already running awkwardly across the muddy grass between the Project and Priestley House on too high heels and Mower had to sprint to catch up with her. A small crowd of children were huddled around a small figure on the ground close to the main doors and as the adults arrived they drew away uncertainly, leaving just one girl supporting Emma’s head. Mower shouldered in front of Donna and leaned over the child, who seemed to be unconscious.
“She were right sick,” her friend said.
“What’s she taken?” Mower asked harshly as he lifted Emma’s eyelids gently.
The other girl glanced away, her expression guilty. Before Mower could intervene, Donna had seized her by the shoulders and shaken her hard.
“Come on, Kiley, what’s she had? Is it drugs? What is it? You must know.”
Kiley pulled away, her pale face sulky and her eyes full of tears.
“It weren’t drugs,” she said. “We’d not do drugs. It were just a drink. I thought it were fizzy pop. A man gave it us when we went for some chips. I didn’t like it, though, and Emma drank most of it. An’ then she went all funny and I thought I’d teck her home, like, and find you. But she couldn’t stand up, could she? And then she were right sick.”
Mower thrust his mobile phone into Donna’s hand.
“Get an ambulance,” he said. While Donna punched in 999, he put his coat round Emma and pulled her upright.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Come on, wake up.” The child’s eyes flickered slightly but did not open. He glanced at Donna who was sitting on her heels in the mud, her face rigid with fear.
“Ambulance is coming,” she whispered. “What d’you reckon?”
“She’ll be fine,” Mower said with more confidence than he felt. “Some sort of alcopop, I should think. Though what stupid beggar’s been handing them out to kids I can’t imagine. But I’ll bloody well find out, I promise you.”
In the distance they could hear the siren of the approaching ambulance. Mower put his arm round Donna.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “She’ll be OK.”
“And if she’s not?” Donna said, her voice reduced to a dry croak. “She’s everything I’ve got.”
By the end of the afternoon Mower had driven Donna home, leaving a pale but conscious Emma settling down to sleep in the children’s ward at Bradfield Infirmary. Donna led the way wearily up the long concrete staircase to her flat and flung herself into a chair, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Mower perched awkwardly on the arm of the chair and put an arm round her.
“Come on, lover,” he said. “It’s all over now. She’s come to no harm. They’ve only kept her in overnight as a precaution.”
Donna shuddered.
“So they say,” she said. “They’ll have social services round as soon as my back’s turned. They’ll take her away from me, Kevin. You don’t know the half of it.”
“Perhaps you’d better tell me then,” Mower said quietly.
“It were when she were little. Her dad and I were in a terrible state, rowing and breaking up and getting back together and rowing again. He was unemployed and drinking and there was no money in t’kitty. There were no end to it. One night Emma were fast asleep in her cot and her dad buggered off at the end of a blazing row and I ran off after him. I weren’t out long. I swear I weren’t. Not more than half an hour. But when I got back the stupid old bat who lived next door had sent for t’police because Emma were crying, and then social services turned up, and they took her away, had her examined and everything. They gave her back next day, because there was nowt wrong with that baby. Even her dad worshipped her, and there wasn’t much he worshipped apart from a bottle of booze, believe me. But they put her on some register and it were years before she were taken off. You have to believe me, Kevin, I’ve done everything by the book for that child. Every jab at the doctors, every toy and book she should have, every bit of reading practice and homework from school. I’ve done everything I could to live that night down and then some. And now …”
“It’s all right,” Mower said. “You only have to look at Emma to see she’s a well cared for child. This is just a stupid thing she’s done herself. She should never have taken the drink from this man. But no one’s going to blame you. You weren’t there. Kids do these things.”
“I don’t know what she were doing out of school. She’s supposed to have her dinner at school not go gallivanting round t’neighbourhood for chips.”
“Yes, well, I think maybe her mate Kiley has some explaining to do,” Mower said. “Where does she live? Is it far?”
“Just down below. Number 18.”
“D’you feel like coming down?” Donna shook her head angrily, scrubbing what was left of her mascara off.
“I’ll say summat I shouldn’t if I get involved with the bloody Hatherleys,” she said. “I don’t like my Emma being so friendly with Kiley and her sister, but what can you do when they live so close?”
“Make a cup of tea for yourself and put a slug of whiskey in it,” Mower said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see if I can find out just exactly what went on at lunchtime.”
Closing the flat door behind him he stood for a moment, taking deep breaths of the cold air and gazing unseeingly out at the glittering early evening lights of the town below. From the moment he had arrived with Donna at the Infirmary and been addressed by the harassed nurse as Mr. Maitland while Emma was wheeled into the resuscitation room for urgent treatment, what Donna left unsaid had hammered at his consciousness with much greater clarity than what she actually put into words. Emma needs a father was the message he was getting loud and clear. And with that he could not argue, although he was equally certain that soon he would have to tell Donna very bluntly that he could not be the father she wished Emma had. He was not looking forward to that.