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‘No,’ the cashier said. ‘Apparently not.’

‘God, what a nightmare. Can the baby survive?’

Mia stepped forward, but Johnny grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

‘No one really knows,’ the cashier said, handing him some change. ‘The doctors and nurses looking after the woman are in bits. I see them coming in here for their coffees so upset. They’ve never dealt with anything like it before.’

‘Terrible situation. Do you know any of the doctors’names? Maybe I could talk to them. My brother’s a consultant in New York. Maybe he could help.’

Now the cashier seemed suspicious. ‘No, I don’t, and it wouldn’t be right anyway.’

‘Sure, yes, of course – I was only thinking if I could help in any way …’

The cashier looked past him to the next customer. He took his coffee and left.

‘Johnny!’ Mia was shaking with rage and fear. ‘Do you recognize him?’

‘No, but he’s definitely a journalist. Tabloid, I’d say. Don’t move.’

Johnny handed Mia his coffee and ran after the young man while Mia tried to figure out how he’d heard about Sarah. Only the family and some of the school staff knew. Then again, Izzy’s class parents knew that her mum had collapsed and was ‘asleep’. Two of the nice ones had texted Mia to say how sorry they were and that they’d be happy to look after Izzy. It probably wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that she was in a coma. And they all knew Sarah was pregnant because, according to Vanessa Dixon, Izzy had proudly told the class last week in Show and Tell. People talked. Damn it. This could not get out. It would be a complete disaster.

No one outside the immediate family and the ICU staff knew that Sarah was brain dead. They’d specifically requested that the hospital keep that information on complete lockdown. They knew that if the news leaked and people found out they’d have opinions on it. Even they, Sarah’s own family, didn’t know what to think about it. The last thing they needed was other people knowing the awful truth. They had to stop this story getting out. It would be a media circus.

Mia went to the hospital entrance. People streamed in and out, visitors holding flowers and bags, patients smoking inhospital gowns. Some patients chatted in groups with family and friends, others stood alone, looking forlornly into the distance.

Mia wanted to shout at them:Be grateful for your life. My sister is dead. Stop smoking. Don’t ever take your health for granted. Appreciate what you have, hold your loved ones close and tell them you love them, because you never know when they may be ripped from you.

Johnny walked back towards her, flushed.

‘Well?’

‘I got to him. He’s new and hungry. He heard about it from his girlfriend, who heard about it from her friend who has a kid in your school. I told him to let it go and have some consideration for the family, but he couldn’t give a toss. He knows it’s a good story.’

Mia grabbed Johnny’s jumper sleeve. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘He writes for theIrish Daily Newswhich is owned by theIrish Express. I know Jimmy Dolan, the editor-in-chief. I’ll talk to him and ask him to quash the story. He’s tough, Jimmy, but he’s a decent man. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out, no matter what.’

Mia buried her face in his chest. ‘Thank you. I’d die if it got into the papers. It would push all of us over the edge. This is our private pain and we don’t need people judging us.’

‘We’ll have to talk to the staff here and the doctors, put a stop to any information being leaked. All information about Sarah has to be contained. I’ll find Dr Mayhew and talk to him while you’re with Sarah. Then I’ll arrange a meeting with Jimmy Dolan.’

Mia leaned into her husband and welcomed his taking control of the situation. She didn’t have the energy for it. All she wanted to do was be with her sister. It was all too much. ‘Can you not just ring him?’ she said desperately, wanting it sorted right now.

‘It’ll be harder for him to say no to quashing the story when I’m standing in front of him.’ Johnny’s jaw was set. ‘See you later.’

Mia knew she could trust him to sort it out. She made her way back upstairs to ICU. In the reception area she bumped into Angela. The whole family had fallen a little in love with her – she was a saint in a uniform. Her little kindnesses, timely pats on the back, words of encouragement and cups of tea had kept them all going during the seemingly never-ending days and nights.

‘Good morning, Mia.’

‘Hi, Angela.’

‘How are you today?’

‘A bit freaked out, actually.’ Mia filled her in on the journalist.

Angela was furious. ‘Bloody scumbag. How dare he try to get a story out of this? Don’t worry, I’ll talk to all the staff here and make damn sure that no one says a word.’ She squeezed Mia’s arm. ‘Now you go in there and be with your sister and I’ll sort out some sugary tea for you after that shock.’

Mia wanted to weep with gratitude. ‘Thanks.’