59

Wednesday 4 September

‘I’m just in the hospital,’ Roy Grace answered. He looked at his watch: 6.45 a.m. ‘I’ll call you back, Glenn? And will you take the morning briefing?’

‘Sure, but just call me whatever I’m doing and I’ll answer.’

He turned to Cleo. ‘Let’s go get some air — find a cafe and get away from the hospital for an hour or so — there’s nothing we can do here at the moment.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, good idea. But call Glenn back if you need to, it might be urgent.’

‘Nothing’s as urgent as this. I’m thinking I’ll go in once we’ve had some breakfast, to see the team, if you’re OK with that. I’ll make sure I’m back at the hospital with you straight afterwards,’ he replied.

‘Makes sense. I’ll go back and stay with Bruno.’

They left the front entrance of the hospital and walked out into the early morning light. ‘There’s a decent place, I seem to remember, if we go down to St James’s Street,’ she said. ‘Not far away.’

They walked in silence. All he wanted to focus on was the dilemma facing them over Bruno and what decision to make.

A few minutes later they entered a large modern-feeling cafe. Johnny Nash’s ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ was playing quietly. Grace wished he could see clearly himself. Several people were seated having breakfast, but they spotted an empty sofa with a coffee table in a far corner, which looked out of earshot to anyone else. They ordered a double espresso for him and a peppermint tea for Cleo, then sat down next to each other on the squishy leather.

Cleo looked pale and very distressed. ‘God, my darling,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t believe we are in this situation.’

‘Yep.’ He looked down at the oak table and said nothing more for some moments.

‘What are your thoughts?’ she asked.

‘I... I guess I’m still trying to take it all in. This time yesterday I was dropping him at school. Now I—’ He stopped and closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold it together.

‘One double espresso and one mint tea,’ a voice said brightly.

Grace heard Cleo thank the server. He opened his eyes again. ‘Shit, there’s a lot of stuff in life you don’t have a clue about until it hits you, isn’t there?’

She smiled back.

They sat for some while without speaking. Grace sipped his coffee, grateful for its strength.

‘What I think,’ Cleo said, ‘is that you shouldn’t rush a decision.’

‘What about the organs deteriorating, or is that just their sales spiel?’

‘I don’t think a few hours will make any difference.’

‘Is there anything we’re missing? Is there something we could do? Some surgeon, somewhere in the world, who could save Bruno?’ he asked.

‘You know, darling, we’re hoping for a miracle that isn’t going to happen. If we lose the transplant window, no one gets helped by his death.’

‘You’re right.’ He sipped some more coffee in silence.

‘What I’m going to suggest, my love, is that because you’ve been thinking of nothing else throughout the night, you need some time away to think clearly. I’ve found so often in life that when we’re in a difficult place, the right decision finds us. Make time to go for a walk on your own, and I’ll do the same. Then let’s speak around lunchtime and see where we’re at.’

They hugged, with tears rolling down their cheeks.


As they left the cafe, Roy noticed a text had come in from Glenn Branson.

Bell me urgently, if you can, boss.

He hit the DI’s speed-dial button.

‘What’s up, Glenn, what’s urgent?’

‘I thought you would want to know right away. There’s been a credible sighting of Eden Paternoster.’

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