Warhol's Prophecy

91

AT FIRST SHE’D been terrified.

Becky had looked up at her father’s face and recoiled from the sight that greeted her. The patchwork of cuts and bruises: some still vivid purple, others yellowed and black at the edges.

But, within a matter of minutes, she had run to him and embraced him.

Hailey had carried his holdall as they’d walked to the car, happy to see that Becky had chosen to hold his hand.

On the way home she and Rob had chatted in the car, while Hailey drove in virtual silence. Now, as they pulled into their driveway, Hailey hurried around to help Rob out.

‘I can manage,’ he said sharply, pulling himself out of the car, but wincing as he felt the pain from his still-healing ribs. He paused a moment, sucking in lungfuls of air, as if the effort of clambering out of the Astra was too great. He straightened up, then made his way slowly towards the front door, Becky close by.

Once inside, Becky hurried off to play in her room. Rob wandered into the sitting room and slumped in an armchair.

‘Do you want a coffee, or something stronger?’ Hailey asked.

He sat in silence for long moments, gazing around the room as if he’d never seen it before.

‘Coffee, please,’ he told her. ‘Whisky doesn’t mix too well with the painkillers they gave me.’

‘Do you want anything to eat?’

He shook his head.

‘Can I get you the paper?’ Hailey persisted.

‘Stop treating me like a fucking invalid, Hailey,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not a cripple.’

‘I’m just trying to help,’ she protested.

‘Then let me do things on my own. You might not always be around.’

She pushed the sitting-room door shut. ‘Meaning what?’ she demanded.

‘You might not be here if there’s something I want,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve got to learn how to manage. Besides, it’s only two cracked ribs I’ve got, not a broken spine.’

‘The doctors said you had to take it easy for a week or so,’ she reminded him.

‘I can’t afford to take it easy for a week or so,’ he told her. ‘I’m going in to work as soon as I can.’

‘Rob, for Christ’s sake!’

‘What do you want me to do? Sit around here in an empty house every day feeling sorry for myself? Thinking about how lucky I am to be alive? Thinking about the bastard who did this to me? Thinking about other things, too?’

She knew what he meant.

‘I’m not going to keep telling you, Rob,’ Hailey said wearily. ‘Nothing happened between Walker and me.’

In fact, Adam had asked if there was anything he could do to help.

Rob didn’t answer.

She crossed to his chair and sat on the arm.

‘What have I got to do to convince you?’ she wanted to know.

He could only shake his head.

‘What about that coffee?’ he asked finally.

She reached out a hand and gently touched one of the yellowish bruises on his left cheek.

‘If I knew who’d done this to you,’ she said softly, ‘I’d kill them.’

Rob met her gaze. ‘Am I supposed to say thanks?’

‘Don’t make it any more difficult than it has to be, Rob.’ Hailey got to her feet.

‘If it’s any consolation, I now know what you felt like – when you found out about me and Sandy.’

‘No, Rob,’ she told him, one hand on the door, ‘it isn’t any consolation.’