The Family Firm

Chapter 47

The people standing around the hospital wing looked like a throng on their way to Mass, if not for their blanched skin and the wide-eyed looks on their faces. Junior's entire family and closest friends had been there when he had been taken into the operating theatre, and had been waiting there since. Polystyrene cups of cheap coffee were passed around between them, but had done little to soothe the ache in the hearts of all whom had witnessed the horrifying events of the evening.

Freddie sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs that lined the hall with his head in his hands, trying to drown out the sterile smells and various clicks and beeps that always accompanied being in hospital. Frankie had been admitted into a room and given a shot to calm her hysteria, and Donny had stayed by her side while she slept, which meant Freddie was forced to remain in the hallway with nothing but his own frantic thoughts. Only Katie had joined him, more to hear any news about Junior's condition, rather than for Frankie's sake.

The rest of the entire Evans family lingered in the A&E waiting room, taking up most of the chairs. If there was one thing about being an Evans, it was that you never left your own in a time of need. All of the aunts, uncles, cousins, and even Nan was there, patiently waiting on word from Freddie, who was to tell them whatever the doctor said. As the hours rolled by, their minds became paranoid and they jumped to every conclusion in the book; had something gone wrong? Was there a complication? Was Junior dead?

Freddie's mind was racing with the same terrified thoughts. Only Katie's soft, tormented voice brought him out of it.

'I can't get it out of me head,' she confessed quietly, staring blankly ahead, her fingers knitted into her dress. 'Seeing her like that. Niamh. I watched it happen. Saw the brains come out of her face like a fucking . . . '

Freddie watched his daughter lament painfully, and felt his heart swell with affection for her. Reaching over the divide of their chairs, he put his arm around her shoulders and brought her against his chest. As soon as her face pressed against his white formal shirt, her back trembled and heaved with silent sobs, and he felt her hot tears seeping through the fabric and trail down his skin.

He just held her like that for an age, his own eyes glossy with tears that he never allowed to escape, and stroked her hair softly. It was in that moment that he realised, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was the first time he had ever truly held her like a father.

The doctor appeared at the end of the hall, and they parted gently with an odd sense of understanding between the two of them, that was quickly replaced by anticipation to hear the doctor's news. Both Freddie and Katie stood and held their breath as the Chinese woman in a green uniform approached them, pulling off the surgical mask from her face so she could speak. She hadn't even had the time to wash the blood off.

'Are you the father?' she asked Freddie. Her strong West Londoner accent denoted her English upbringing, and he was subconsciously relieved.

As to not directly answer her question, he asked, 'How is he?'

Hearing the doctor, Donny had appeared in the doorway of the room Frankie was resting in. Dr Cheung glanced at him but continued addressing Freddie. 'He's still in the theatre, but he's stable for now. He has suffered a tremendous amount of trauma and is heavily anaesthetised, so it will be some time before you'll be able to see him. The gunshot damaged his liver and gall bladder, and he lost a lot of blood. Unfortunately, that puts him at risk for brain damage, among other things.'

Freddie's mouth went dry, and Donny spoke up first. 'Brain damage? What do you mean, brain damage? Me son ain't gonna be a vegetable or . . . or retarded, is he?'

Dr Cheung winced at his choice of terminology, but realising he was Junior's father, turned to address him instead. 'I'm afraid it's always a risk when one loses as much blood as Frederick has. He's very lucky to be alive right now. Whether or not he'll ever be the same Frederick as you've known him, well . . . it's impossible to tell at the time being. For now, I recommend you all go home and get some sleep. He won't be waking up any time soon.'

With one last sympathetic look at the three shocked faces, the doctor departed. Donny began shouting after her for answers, but his words were white noise to Fred's ears. He began stumbling away aimlessly, feeling himself begin to slip into his emotions again. He was losing touch with reality as the cold hard truth of the doctor's words penetrated his mind. Junior might never be the same again. The poor lad had lost his wife on his wedding day and now he might have brain damage.

As he blindly reached the waiting room, the entire Evans clan was staring at him, waiting for him to give them the news. The morbid look on his face made them glance at each other, wondering if the worst had happened.

Beth was seated at the head of the room, and rose from her chair beside Charlie to approach her step-son, placing a hand on his large shoulder. 'Freddie, how is he?'

As Fred solemnly explained Junior's condition, Katie had been rooted to her spot in the hall, staring onward, her skin pale as paraffin. What the fuck had happened to Junior? What the fuck had happened to everything?

Within the week, a funeral for Niamh Evans was held at St Patrick's Roman Catholic Church Cemetery in Leyton. The casket had to be closed for the wake. Young Caitlin O'Shaughnessy sang the most beautiful a capella rendition of Tim Buckley's "Song of the Siren" in her sister's honour, and word had it that there wasn't a dry eye in the entire party. The Evans family was barred from attending. Niamh's headstone had been engraved with the surname O'Shaughnessy.