But it never does.
* * *
IT’S MAYBE AN HOUR LATER that Hugh taps on the door.
“Hannah, are you okay? It’s gone very quiet.”
She doesn’t answer. Her teeth are chattering too much.
“Hannah?” Hugh is starting to sound alarmed. “Can you say something?”
He waits, then knocks again, and then says, “Hannah, I’m coming in. Is that all right?”
She wants to speak. She wants to tell him she’s okay, but it’s not true.
The door creaks slowly open, and Hugh’s head comes cautiously through the gap. He is wearing his glasses now, and has changed into herringbone trousers with a sharp crease ironed down the front.
His expression changes as he sees her huddled against the towel rail, white and speechless and shivering.
“Jesus, Hannah, you’re in shock. Let me help you up.”
She tries to stand, but her legs are weak as rubber, and Hugh has to help her, holding the towel around her to try to protect her nakedness, averting his eyes as it slips to expose her bump.
“I’m s-s-sorry—” she keeps trying to say, and he keeps saying “Don’t worry, don’t worry—Han, I’m a doctor, I’ve seen this all before, it’s okay, you’re in delayed shock. It’s completely natural, the news about Will—it would have shaken anyone up. Come through here. I’ll get you something hot and sugary. Come on, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
Together they make their hobbling way down the corridor to Hugh’s guest bedroom, and Hugh pulls back the covers and helps her slip underneath.
“Don’t go to sleep, okay?” Hugh says sternly. “I’m coming back with something for the shock.”
The shivering is subsiding, and she is hugely, unbelievably tired, but she tries to obey, dragging her lids open. Hugh returns in a matter of moments with a hot water bottle and a cup of tea so sweet it makes her want to retch as she drinks it, but he forces her to have at least a few sips.
“Let me sleep,” she begs at last. She can’t think of the police, not now, not like this, while she’s white and trembling. In an hour, maybe. Right now she is suddenly crushingly exhausted—tired in a way she can’t remember ever being before. Hugh looks at her for a long moment and then nods.
“All right. You look absolutely done in. I’m just going to take your blood pressure, okay?”
She nods, and he leaves, and then comes back a few seconds later with an electric monitor. He sits there, listening to the clicks and whirs as it takes a reading, then pulls off the cuff and pauses for a moment with his finger on her pulse, counting.
“Is it… okay?” The words are hard to form. She’s so unbelievably tired. Hugh nods.
“It’s fine. You’re fine. Don’t worry. Are you cold?”
She shakes her head. Her hands and feet still feel numb, but the trembling is subsiding, and she can feel the warmth from the hot water bottle seeping through her.
“Go to sleep,” Hugh says gently. “I’ll wake you in a few hours. Okay?”
“… kay,” she manages. And then she lets her eyes close, and slips into a merciful darkness.
AFTER
“Hannah.” The voice is gentle, insistent… and not Will’s. “Haaa-nah. It’s time to wake up.”
“What?” She struggles to sit up, blinking, wondering where she is—and then she remembers. She is in Hugh’s flat. And she is—oh God, she is naked. And somehow it’s dark.
She pulls the covers up over her breasts, and the memories come back. The bath. The flight to Hugh’s flat. Will.
The pain is like a knife to her side. Unbearable.
Hugh is standing over her, looking worried. His fringe is in his eyes and he blows it off with that habitual gesture, and her heart aches.
“What time is it?” she croaks, putting a hand up to her throbbing head. She feels… the word comes to her like a surprise. She feels hungover. Like she spent a night on the tiles. It’s so far from the truth that for a second she wants to laugh. Is this what shock feels like?
Hugh looks at his watch.
“Nearly four. We’re due at the police station at four thirty. Are you feeling okay?”
“Nearly four?” Hannah sits up fully at that, shock running through her. “Are you kidding? I’ve been asleep all day?”
“You went out like a light. You still don’t look quite right.”
She puts her hand to her head. Not quite right is an understatement—she feels completely groggy and disoriented, and there is a vile taste in her mouth, bitter and chemical. Then what Hugh just said sinks in.