THIRTY-THREE

Michelle propped herself up on the uncomfortable bed and buzzed for the nurse. Requesting some painkillers, she picked up a magazine from the cabinet next to her and started flicking through the pages. It had been four days now since she'd been admitted to hospital and she'd had a hell of a lot of time to sum up just how shit her life really was.

It was entirely her own fault that she was hospitalised. She was the one that had driven her car as pissed as a fart and smashed it to smithereens. Chelle had written off cars in the past and laughed about it. This time it was different. She'd very nearly killed someone.

Chelle couldn't remember anything about the accident, she must have blanked out completely. All she knew was what she'd been told by the police and her solicitor. Apparently, she'd been doing about 60 in a 30 mph zone, when she'd had a head-on collision with an oncoming Ford Focus. Michelle had cracked ribs, a sprained ankle and mild concussion. The woman driving the other car wasn't so lucky.

Hannah Lennon was a 37-year-old nurse who had been driving home from work after a long hard shift. Hannah had spent two days and nights in intensive care after the accident and had now been told that she wouldn't be back at work for quite a long time. Word had soon got around the ward and although Hannah didn't work at that particular hospital, Michelle had received the cold shoulder. Nurses were loyal. Hurting anyone was bad enough, but hurting a fellow nurse was totally unforgivable. Appalled, the staff treated Chelle as if she was something nasty they'd trodden in.

'Fred, where are you? I love you, don't leave me, Fred.'

Michelle put her head under the covers to try and block out the noise of the old dear in the next bed.

Ethel Naylor was in the latter stages of Alzheimer's. Her beloved husband, Fred, had been dead for twenty-six years, but Ethel truly believed that he was in the ward and was standing three feet away from her.

'Oooh, oooh, oooh.'

Michelle peeked up from under her sheets to see who the fuck was oohing. The smell hit her nostrils almost immediately and she quickly sprayed Ralph Lauren perfume onto her wrist and held it close to her nose. Oh dear, Ivy had had another little accident. Michelle felt like bursting into tears. She'd had private health insurance for years when Terry was alive and had never used it. Why the hell hadn't she kept up the policy? What a bloody idiot she was. Looking at her perfume bottle she allowed herself a wry smile. 'Glamorous', the label said. 'Fucking glamorous,' Chelle said under her breath. 'Not in this bastard place it ain't.'

Drifting off to sleep, Chelle was woken shortly afterwards by the one and only friend she seemed to have left. Apart from Hazel, none of her other so-called friends had been near her. The only other visitor she had had was her solicitor, who was being paid to drop in. Chelle looked inside the carrier bag which Hazel had brought and was pleased to see it was full of magazines.

'Thanks, mate,' she said gratefully. 'Hazel, I've been thinking. I want you to do me a favour. Will you contact Billie Jo for me and ask her to come and see me? I look around at visiting time and everyone else has their family with them. I know she's going to be horrified by the accident, but I dunno, she's the only family I've got and being stuck in here has made me think about the past. I know I was never cut out for kids, but I'd like to try and make things up to her. What do you think?'

Hazel had been amazed by the change in her friend's behaviour over the last few days. At first she'd put it down to shock, but now she wasn't so sure. Maybe, deep down, Chelle did have a kind, caring nature, but over the years had kept it well hidden.

'I think it's a great idea, Chelle. I'll ring her tonight if you give me her number. I've always liked Billie. She's a good kid. Maybe it's because she was so close to Terry that you and her have always struggled to get on.'

Michelle scrolled through her phone, wrote the number down and handed it to Hazel. She was just about to get into a deep conversation with her about Billie, when she was interrupted by an unexpected visitor, her solicitor.

'I need to have a word with you, Michelle, in private.'

Colin Brown had his serious tone on and Chelle only had to look at his face to know that whatever news he'd come to give her wasn't going to be good. As soon as Hazel had left, Colin Brown closed the curtains around the cubicle and sat down next to Michelle.

'I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you, Michelle.'

Michelle felt panic rising inside her. It was at times like this that she used to reach for the wine bottle to calm her down. Fat chance of that today, she thought.

'Mrs Lennon, the driver of the other car, took a turn for the worse last night. The doctors thought that she was out of the woods, but they were obviously wrong. She was pronounced dead at seven this morning.'

Michelle could feel the bile rising to her throat. She grabbed her sick bowl and started to retch.

'Obviously, this will change the charges that are to be brought against you and the police will want to take a statement. They'll probably now charge you with death by dangerous driving amongst other things.'

Michelle felt as if she was having a bad dream. Why did the woman have to bloody well die? 'What will happen to me? Will I go to prison?'

Colin Brown felt nothing but contempt for the woman sitting opposite him, but tried not to show it. He couldn't believe he'd just told her that she'd killed someone, yet all she was worried about was her bloody self. 'I honestly don't know,' he said truthfully. 'But you're going to have to speak to the police asap. I can't put them off any longer, not now the woman is dead. By all accounts, they've now gone over my head anyway and contacted the doctors. You can bet they've said that you're now well enough to be interviewed.'

'Right, Colin, that's made my mind up. I'm not staying here one minute longer. The doctor I spoke to today said I'd probably be able to go home soon anyway, so I'm gonna discharge myself. I'd much rather come to the police station with you of my own accord than have anyone interview me sitting in this dump. I hate this poxy old nightdress and I've got no make-up on.'

Colin was so disgusted by her selfishness that, for once, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 'For goodness' sake, Michelle, you will have to change your attitude when you go to court for this mess. You've just killed somebody and all you're worried about is what you look like! If you behave like this in front of the judge, you'll end up with a nice long vacation in Holloway.'

Michelle burst into tears. She didn't just feel bad about what had happened, she felt awful. The fact that her drink problem had now killed someone hadn't really sunk in yet, so to cover up her guilt, Michelle did what she knew best and that was to talk constantly about herself.

'I'm so sorry,' Chelle sobbed. 'I know I haven't asked for any details about the woman, but it's not because I don't care. It's because I can't face knowing at the moment.'

Colin stood up and, for one split second, actually felt sorry for the mess of a woman he was representing.

'Look, I have to go now, Michelle. There's another client I have to see. Do yourself a favour and think about what I've said. Unless you start showing some remorse, the police and the court will give you a real hard time.'

Chelle nodded tearfully. Giving her a formal nod in return, Colin left the ward.

Chelle immediately got dressed and discharged herself. With the help of Hazel and a set of crutches, she hobbled out of the ward.

An hour later they were sitting in Chelle's house, not really knowing what to do next. Hazel had made her friend comfortable on the sofa with a quilt and a pillow, cooked her some food and poured her some wine, but Chelle was inconsolable and could barely eat or drink. Running out of ideas and in a rush to get home because her son and first grandchild were coming round for dinner, Hazel did the only thing she could think of. Pretending she was going out into the kitchen for a refill, she took the screwed-up piece of paper from her purse and rang the number. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her fingers and hoped for the best. It was answered on the fourth ring, and Hazel decided to be blunt.

'Billie, your mum's not well. She's been involved in an accident. She's in trouble, she's been asking about you and she needs you.'

Momentarily stunned, Billie Jo dropped the phone.