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Chapter Twenty-Eight

All I can see is a bright, bright light. Even stronger than that glaring spotlight, the last thing I saw. It’s overwhelmingly bright, I want to tell someone to turn it off but discover I have no voice. I can’t speak, or even croak. Is this it? Am I meeting my maker?

There’s a flashing blue light now, some voices calling my name. Again, I find I can’t answer them, although I so want to. I want to ask what’s happened, where am I, why am I witnessing all of these different moments in flashes and fragments?

I’m in pain. I’m in so much pain. My whole body feels shattered, and every time I try to move lightning bolts of agony flash all the way through me.

Won’t someone help me? I need help. There are these shadows around me, I can’t speak to them, they bend and warp and suddenly, I’m floating.

The pain has gone. I feel myself letting go – of all the anxiety and the stress, the lust and the jealousy – I just let go of everything and shut my eyes.

I wake up to the scent of roses, of lilies, a rush of blooms fills my nose and, for a split second, I wonder if I am in a garden somewhere.

Or is this what heaven smells like? But then I open my eyes further and I see the white ceiling, the harsh strip lighting, the blue hospital curtain yanked around my bed.

Is this groundhog day? Have the past few weeks been a hallucination, and I’m still recovering from my nose job?

I try to lift an arm to my face but nothing is moving. Am I really awake? Can I make a sound?

“Hi,” I try to croak and I hear my mam’s voice in response.

“Angelica, you’re awake! Oh thank god, love, we’ve been so worried.

” I feel wet tears on my cheek and know I am crying.

I feel so disconnected from everything and I can’t remember how I wound up here.

I try to swivel my head left and right but I am in too much pain to manage.

I look ahead, see one leg in a cast, floating above the other.

“What happened?” I manage to struggle out.

“Oh honey, can’t you remember? You went up to collect your award, we were so proud, I was watching the live stream at home with your dad, he’s just gone to get me a can of Diet Coke, actually hold on, I’ll just tell him…

” She disappears from my eyeline for a moment and I desperately want her back.

I can hear her shouting, “Jim, Jim she’s awake! ”

Then I can feel her presence back by my side.

“Then, they still don’t know how, one of the spotlights came loose from the lighting rig and you were just there in its path, like a startled rabbit in the headlights.

You fell backwards off the podium. At first we thought maybe it was a joke, a stunt you’d practised and you’d appear, laughing, on another side of the stage or something.

I think the whole audience did. But then you didn’t appear and oh god, I was sick to my stomach with worry.

They stretchered you out of there – thought you might have broken a vertebrae or worse.

I’ve been out of mind, furious with the awards for almost killing you.

If you hadn’t fallen, if it had actually hit you, I dread to think what would have happened… ”

I hate to think of that too, how panicked she and Dad must have been.

Panic caused by me. As it’s all beginning to slowly come back to me, I remember not eating that day, drinking all the wine possible.

If I hadn’t drunk on an empty stomach, and starved myself for weeks, would I have fallen?

Maybe I could have just sidestepped that stupid light.

Would I have worried Mam and Dad so much?

Probably not. Guilt floods through me, amplifying the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I croak.

“Don’t be silly, my love. You have nothing to be sorry for, those stage managers on the other hand, are a different story!

Mind you, the team did get you medical help so quickly.

You were knocked out cold, they said. We were just watching on in horror at home, as it cut to an emergency ad break. Your dad was going wild—”

“I was.” He’s appeared, somehow. How long has he been here? “I was yelling ‘I don’t want to see an advert for Persil I want to know my daughter is OK’ and then, the phone rang—”

“I’ve never got up so quick in my life,” Mam says. “I rushed over and they said you were being taken to hospital and we better come quick, so we piled in the car.”

“Worst journey of my life.”

“Sssh, Jim, we don’t want to make her feel bad. But yes, it was horrible. I cursed every red light, every traffic jam. I just wanted to be here, with my baby.”

“Then we got here and the doctor confirmed that you’d been knocked out but had come round soon enough, and they’d just put you back under as a precaution – to check for swelling on the brain and all that, nothing too serious.

They are going to run more tests but we’re not to worry.

You’ve got bruising to your spine, your coccyx and ribs, oh I can’t remember, there was so much medical jargon floating about, I tried to write it down as your mam was just too in bits to listen and, yeah, you can see, your broken leg. ”

Mam’s stroking my hair, and I can feel my eyes drift shut again.

“You need to get as much rest as possible, the doctor said you’re very, very lucky that your injuries aren’t worse.

Honestly, you could have died. But someone, somewhere is looking out for you.

Anyway, I’ll stop blabbering on and get some fresh water for all these flowers, have you properly seen them?

The room is covered in them, so sweet of him… ”

Then, I’m asleep again. I dream of rose petals floating through the air, Damon lying on a bed of them, I see him blowing petals at me, holding out single red roses.

But then his finger is cut by a thorn, the dream is taken over by a wash of red, blood fills the television that is my shut eyes, and I’m swimming in it, screaming. I can’t get out, I’m drowning.

“Ssssh, shhhh, you’re OK my love, you’re safe, it’s just a bad dream.” I wake to Mam’s voice. “Oh you were tossing so much, well as much as you can toss with that cast. I think it’s all the painkillers, they’ll be sending you a bit loopy.”

This time I can look around the room a bit more and Mam’s right, it really is adorned with flowers.

These absolutely massive bunches of all my favourites: lilies, roses, but also daisies and sunflowers.

There’s also a blanket on my bed patterned with smiley faces that’s brand new, and someone who knows me well must have brought it here. It makes me smile so much.

“Damon?” I ask.

“Tsssk,” Mam says, barely hiding the disapproval from her voice.

It’s confusing as I thought she’d let go of her animosity towards him, that she understood I loved him and that was enough.

“Let’s not talk about him just yet, you need to rest. There’s a boy ban on the ward!

Enforced by me, and your bouncer of a dad. ”

“That’s not fair!” I wail and Mam smiles. “I want to speak to Damon, can I at least have my phone?”

“You need to eat something first, sweetheart,” Mam says gently, passing a tray of food from the side.

I know she’s right. These last few weeks, I’ve not been controlling my eating, it’s been controlling me.

If I hadn’t have ended up here I might have ended up needing help.

But suddenly I can feel my appetite coming back.

I eat the little pre-packaged croissant without thinking about calories.

Instead, I’m thinking about Damon. I ask for my phone again.

“I need to let Damon know I’m awake,” I say. “Have you found my mobile?”

“You must be on the mend, there’s my boy-crazy girl back.” She glances at Dad. “We went and got it from your hotel when we packed you a bag. We wanted you to have something comfier than your awards dress. What do you think Jim, can she have her phone?”

“I’m a grown woman!” I say, but it comes out as a squeak.

“I’m not sure,” Dad says while beckoning Mam over to where the pair can whisper but luckily not out of earshot.

“I don’t think she can find out just yet,” I hear Mam say and Dad replies, “but she’ll be unbearable if we don’t give it to her.”

He’s right, they may as well just succumb now or I’m going to whinge until they give in.

“Fine,” Mam roots in her handbag. “Here you go.”

The first message I open is from Anika. She’s furious at me in the way that only your oldest mates are allowed to be.

I could kill you, Angel-face, if you hadn’t nearly done it yourself. You need some serious self-care, girl. Get well soon – and when I say that I don’t just mean your bust leg, I mean take care of yourself properly. I need you well enough to get mortal with me when we dock back in the UK soon XXX

The next ones are from Madison and Layla.

There’s a load of silly memes wishing me better and saying that as soon as I’m able to have visitors they’re going to come, and is it appropriate to bring prosecco onto a hospital ward?

The fact they’re being so normal is exactly what I need.

I don’t like lying here, feeling like an invalid and prisoner in my own body, robbed of my autonomy.

I just want to be treated like standard up-for-a-laugh Angelica, and that’s exactly what Madison and Layla are doing.

They also say a few cryptic things like…

Dunno when you’ll read this but please do give him a chance, he’s been proper done over.

I don’t know who the ‘he’ is but as I scroll down, through the hundreds of messages I’ve received, I’m looking for one name and one name only: Damon.

But he doesn’t appear. Surely this must be a mistake?

Even Sebastian has sent me a lovely message telling me he thinks I’m fantastic and he knows my strength will carry me through!

So has Mam deleted the messages from Damon? What’s happened to them?

“Mam, where’s Damon?”