Page 66 of Never Gonna Happen

‘They know something,’ said Mr Hunter, throwing open the door to the Jimny and hurrying across the road to the beach. Emily followed, the knot in her stomach ballooning into her chest.

‘What is it?’ asked Mr Hunter.

‘They heard about a man,’ said Joseph. ‘He was found on the rocks. Not by these men, some other fishermen. Further up the coast, near where we met.’

‘Where is he now?’ asked Emily. Jamie must have been heading back if he was that close to home, so it couldn’t have been long ago.

‘They think he was taken to the hospital, but I do not know if . . .’

Mr Hunter’s phone rang, and he quickly fished it out of his pocket. ‘It’s Jessie,’ he said, prodding it frantically to connect the call and put it on speakerphone. Emily chewed the end of her thumb and leaned in to listen.

‘I’ve found him, Mr Charles,’ said Jessie. ‘He’s in the community hospital. I don’t know what happened, but he’s hurt.’

‘Why didn’t anyone call?’ asked Mr Hunter.

‘They got his name before he passed out, but the address he put on the immigration form was for the Lapis Lagoon Hotel, and they said he checked out of there this morning.’

My fault, thought Emily. She’d filled in the forms on the plane and put the hotel address because she happened to have it to hand. Mr Hunter and Jamie were both asleep and she didn’t want to wake them up to ask for the beach house address.

‘Dear God,’ said Mr Hunter. ‘Is he conscious?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Jessie, ‘but I know he’s not dead. That’s the best I can do right now.’

Mr Hunter started to walk back towards the car. ‘We’ll go now.’

‘I’ll meet you there,’ said Jessie. ‘You may need some help.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

Emily took the wheel of the Jimny this time, dropping Joseph back at the truck in a flurry of thanks and then following Mr Hunter’s directions to the hospital. His face was pale, and Emily’s emotions were in turmoil. But she was glad to have a reason to focus and do something useful.

She dropped Mr Hunter by the main entrance and sped the car round to the parking lot, resisting the temptation to dump it across two spaces in case clamping was a thing in Mauritius and they needed the car later. She grabbed her handbag and ran back as fast as she could, finding Jessie and Mr Hunter waiting for her by the main doors. ‘I’ve spoken to some people,’ Jessie said quickly, resting a reassuring hand on Emily’s shoulder. ‘Nothing official, just a nurse I know. He’s got some kind of leg or back injury. He’s conscious but confused. They think he might have hit his head.’

The sick feeling in Emily’s stomach intensified. How badly had he hit his head? What kind of leg or back injury? She followed Jessie and Mr Hunter into the hospital and was hit by a wall of noise. The waiting area was crowded and chaotic, with some people queuing and others waiting around in various states of injury. Several babies were crying, and the sound felt like daggers in Emily’s scrambled brain. ‘Follow me,’ said Jessie, weaving through the crowd towards some swing doors. Emily felt like this probably wasn’t the official route to visit a patient in the hospital, but Jessie didn’t seem to care. She hurried down corridors and up a flight of stairs, then through some more doors into a quieter, less frantic space. Jessie stopped and searched the faces of the staff, then saw somebody she knew and waved. A woman wearing green surgical scrubs hurried over to meet them.

‘This is my cousin, Celeste,’ said Jessie.

‘Follow me,’ said the woman, not bothering with pleasantries. She led them down a corridor to a row of identical cubicles, all of which seemed to be occupied with the curtains drawn. Emily heard low moaning from behind one, like a cow or someone in labour, and the sound of a crying child in another, accompanied by someone making gentle sssh-ing noises. A world of human odours hung in the air – the place smelled like a school changing room that had just been rinsed down with antiseptic. It made Emily feel sick, but she took deep breaths and swallowed it down.

Jamie was behind the fourth curtain, looking pale and battered with cuts and scrapes all over his face and shoulders and chest. A bandage was wrapped around a wound on his arm, the skin around it stained yellow with iodine spray. He looked like he’d been beaten up, then thrown to the sharks. His right leg was immobilised in some kind of splint.

Mr Hunter sat in the chair by the bed and gently took his son’s hand. Emily walked round to the other side of the bed and looked at the IV drip in his arm. There were a couple of bags of clear liquid hanging off it, but that was it. If he was badly injured or his life was at risk, surely he’d be hooked up to beeping machines?

‘I’ll find the doctor,’ said Celeste, hurrying off and pulling the curtain shut behind her. Jessie followed, leaving Mr Hunter and Emily alone with Jamie.

They both sat and watched him for a while, not sure if he was unconscious or just pumped full of heavy-duty painkillers. The fact that he was entirely unsupervised suggested the latter, but Emily had no idea what was normal in Mauritian hospitals.

His eyes flickered, then opened. ‘Hey, Dad,’ he croaked blearily.

‘Oh, thank God,’ muttered Mr Hunter, breathing out like he’d been holding it in for some time.

‘Where’s Emily?’ Jamie tried to turn his head and winced.

‘She’s here,’ said Mr Hunter. ‘Don’t move. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.’

Jamie groaned. ‘I think I’ve fucked my leg.’

Emily walked round the end of the bed and stood next to Mr Hunter. ‘What happened?’ she asked, brushing his hair gently out of his eyes.