Her Perfect Lies. Lana Newton
Tony spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I was in the car. That’s the last thing I remember.’
‘I expect the police will want to speak to you later today. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up.’
From the bathroom, Claire heard the bed creak. ‘Why?’ asked Tony.
‘There’s been a serious accident. Two people got hurt.’
‘Two people? I crashed into the motorway divider. No one else was involved.’
‘Your daughter Claire was with you.’
A few seconds ticked by before Tony answered. ‘That’s not true. I was alone in the car.’
Claire wished she could see her father’s face but from where she was hiding, it was impossible. Was his memory affected, just like hers? Was he confused, just like her?
‘Don’t worry, the police are treating it as an accident. I will tell them you don’t remember. You’ve been through a lot and—’
‘I remember perfectly well, Doctor. There was no one in the car with me.’ His voice rose as if he was angry. At the doctor? At the never-ending questions? Claire felt sorry for her father. What he needed was a rest, not an interrogation.
As if he could read her mind through the bathroom door, the doctor said, ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you. Please try and get some rest.’
‘Wait, Doctor. I can’t feel my legs. Why can’t I feel my legs?’ Tony’s voice quivered.
Five seconds passed before the doctor replied. Claire knew how long it took because her gaze followed the silver-plated hand of the clock on the wall. In that time the doctor shuffled uncomfortably, averted his gaze, coughed. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes when he said, ‘Your spine was severely damaged in the accident. We did all we could but …’
‘I can’t walk?’
‘I’m very sorry. With time and extensive physiotherapy there’s a chance, a small chance—’
‘Is there anything you can do? Operate, do something, fix it.’
‘We tried our best but the damage was quite severe, I’m afraid.’ The doctor was moving away from Tony. Imperceptibly, little by little, he was shifting towards the door. ‘There was nothing we could do.’
‘Nothing you could do?’ Tony sounded close to tears. Claire felt close to tears herself.
‘I’m very sorry, sir.’
The doctor left without another word. Claire glanced at the door, at her father’s back, at his heaving shoulders. She wondered if she could slip out without him noticing. Although she wanted to comfort him, to take him in her arms and make it all go away, she knew it was impossible. And she didn’t want to meet him for the first time when he was sobbing uncontrollably on his bed and all she felt was helpless and lost.
Soon his crying subsided and his breathing became regular. Claire tiptoed past him to the door, turning the handle softly. She was about to walk out when she heard his voice. ‘Hello, Teddy Bear.’
His voice was soft like a caress. She turned around. Tony had pulled himself up in bed and was watching her intently. With his mop of grey hair and bushy eyebrows, his crooked nose, like an eagle’s beak, and his narrow cheekbones, he looked moody, as if permanently disappointed with life – until he smiled. His smile transformed his face and made him appear attractive and kind. It made Claire’s heart feel lighter.
‘Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?’ She stepped from foot to foot, not sure what to do with her hands, then closed the door and walked back to his bed.
‘I’ve been better.’ He laughed like it was a joke only he could understand. ‘Come over here and give your old man a hug.’
She leaned closer and he scooped her up in his arms, effortlessly pulling her to him. ‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘I’m heavy.’
‘Oh yes, as heavy as a feather.’
As she relaxed into his arms, she thought he was surprisingly strong for someone who was bedridden and unable to move. He smelt of hand sanitiser and soap, hospital smells she found familiar and reassuring. His heartbeat was a comfort against her chest. For a few seconds he didn’t let go. And she didn’t want him to.
‘Ask me again,’ he said, finally releasing her.
‘Ask you what?’
‘How I’m feeling.’
‘How are you feeling?’ she repeated like an obedient daughter.
‘After a hug like that? Like a million dollars!’ He winked and patted the bed next to him, urging her to come closer. His fingers wrapped around hers, squeezing tightly. ‘So what did I miss?’ he asked, smiling brightly. He had a good smile. It was kind. It inspired trust. Paul had got it all wrong, she thought. Her father wasn’t unfriendly. He was warm and welcoming.
‘I wouldn’t know. After the accident, I lost my memory. I was in the hospital with you for a long time.’
‘What accident?’
‘Our accident.’
‘I know they keep saying you were with me. But they are wrong. It was just me in the car that day.’
‘But if I wasn’t with you …’ She hesitated. ‘What happened to me?’
‘I don’t know, darling. Did you say you lost your memory?’ His eyes appraised her, taking her in. She was glad she had made an effort with her appearance. Her hair was tied back into a bun as if she was about to perform on stage. Heavy mascara made her look older, more mature. A layer of powder concealed the dark shadows under her eyes, making her appear less vulnerable. But her father seemed to look right through the mask. The look of concern on his face made her heart beat faster, happier. ‘Have they done any tests? What’s the prognosis?’
‘All they do is tests. I’m convinced one guy is writing his PhD paper on me. I don’t mind, as long as he helps. But all he seems to care about is the sound of his own voice.’
‘So it could be a while?’
‘No one really knows.’ She didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. To change the subject, she asked, ‘What happened on the day of the accident? Were you speeding? Tired?’
‘Why do bad things happen to good people? In my line of work, I have to believe in luck. And every now and again luck turns its back on you.’
‘In your line of work? What is it that you do?’ She felt silly asking this question, as if she was an impostor, pretending to be this stranger’s daughter. And yet, she knew she was his daughter. She could feel the pull, the connection between the two of them, a lifetime of memories waiting to be discovered.
‘I take calculated risks for a living.’ He fell quiet, as if lost in thought. It was almost like he didn’t want to tell her. He cleared his throat before saying, ‘I run the family business for your mother. When your grandfather was alive, I was his right-hand man. Then I took over from him. But enough about me. How have you been?’
She shrugged. ‘Like a fish out of water. I don’t remember anything about myself.’ To her horror, she started to cry and couldn’t stop.
He pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms. Instantly she felt better. ‘I wish your mother was here,’ he said. ‘She’d know what to do.’ There was a wistful expression on his face. He must miss Mum so much, she thought. How could he not, when even Claire missed her and she didn’t even know her.
‘Where is Mum? She hasn’t visited us in hospital. I was wondering …’
‘She had to go away for a couple of months.’
‘Away where?’ How could she be away at a time like this?
‘She’s