19.

The hospital decided to keep Connor in for a couple more days while they ran tests to be extra sure that there was no long-lasting damage from smoke inhalation. He didn't have many visitors while he was there – Kevin came once, and his mum practically refused to go home despite his pleas for a bit of peace. The only person he wanted to see had been discharged already; Imogen seemed reluctant to speak to him for some reason. Maybe she knows it was me and never wants to see me again, Connor thought. He wouldn't blame her, who in their right mind would want to be with a mentalist like him? Dr Gallagher had followed through on Connor's request of keeping the police away for a while, which was something, but he was growing increasingly frustrated with being stuck in a hospital bed – there was nothing to take his mind away from the guilt. He had stared at the ceiling for so long his eyes were watering; everything was just dull, and he felt so alone.

Connor reached for his phone, which had started vibrating noisily on the bedside table. He automatically answered when he saw who was calling. "Hello?" he said, careful to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Hey, it's me." Imogen's voice danced through the phone, boosting Connor's mood immensely.

"Are you okay? I wanted to come and see you but they wouldn't let me… I don't know why though, I'm fine!" he laughed, embarrassingly overcompensating for the uncomfortable tension.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm good. I mean, there's some scarring on my face, but I suppose that's the least of my worries now." she seemed down, unlike her usual upbeat self.

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"I need to talk to you. Face to face, just me and you."

"Well, come to the hospital today if you like. They're keeping me in for a little longer, and it'll just be me and you 'cause Mum isn't coming back until later. What's up, though? Sounds serious." Connor might not have had many girlfriends before Imogen, but he knew to expect the worst when it came to the whole 'we need to talk' thing.

"It is serious; to be honest I thought they would have told you. I'll come now. See you soon."

And with that, she hung up, leaving Connor feeling even more alone than ever.

X

Imogen had to be careful – the police didn't want her to see Connor until they'd spoken to him in case she influenced his responses, but judging by his reaction on the phone, they hadn't told him that she admitted to starting the fire. She had to speak to him.

Thanking the bus driver, she got off just outside the hospital and headed to Connor's ward; she knew exactly where it was, and she hoped with all her heart that there was no police there or Mrs Mulgrew for that matter, who was bound to be furious with her. Finally arriving at the ward, she went in, feeling extremely nervous.

Connor was sat upright in bed scrolling away at his phone, presumably on Facebook. Loads of people had posted well-wishes, generic get well soon messages and the like onto his wall, which only fuelled his unbearable feelings of guilt and general disgust in himself. He just wanted people to stop being nice to him. He knew he had to find the bravery to confess, and soon.

He locked his phone and placed it on the side when he saw Imogen enter. "Hey! You alright?"

Imogen moved closer into the room, anxious not to let Connor see her scars. "Connor, I need to tell you something."

"Go on, then." he said, chirpily, determined to stay optimistic. He hated when Imogen went all serious on him.

"While you were unconscious… the police interviewed me. It's a suspected arsonist case."

"Yeah, I know, they want to speak to me but I've been putting them off. How'd it go?"

She just came straight out with it. "It was you, wasn't it? You set the fire."

Connor's heart plummeted. He was planning on telling her, but if she already knew, who else did? "How did you know?" he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

"I sort of… worked it out. But that's not important, what is important is what I said to the police."

He hadn't thought of that. Surely she wouldn't have shopped me to the police, Connor thought, uneasily. "D-did you tell them?"

"No! Of course not. The thing is… there's a reason I need us to be alone. If your mum found out I was here, she'd kick off, big style."

"Why would she? I thought you two were getting on now."

Imogen ran a hand through her hair, before walking over to the TV and switching it off; the background noise was distractingly annoying. She was procrastinating, unable to tell Connor that she had confessed to the arson in case it spelled the end of their relationship altogether. She did what she did to protect him, not to lose him.

"I'm going to be charged with arson, Connor."

A million conflicting emotions ran powerfully through Connors mind. "What? What are you on about?" Realising what she was implying, he said, "Oh no… please tell me you didn't!"

Imogen just looked at the floor, tears prickling her eyes. She didn't know what to say, but she didn't know why she was getting upset; she'd done nothing wrong. "When I realised it was you, I panicked. I just said the first thing that came into my mind!"

Connor was devastated; fire was always meant to be his comfort blanket, nothing more and nothing less. It was never meant to get this complicated. "Why would you do that? For god sake Imogen, do you have any idea what they'll do to you? You have to go and tell them the truth, now!"

"No! I did this to protect you! And if you're not grateful, then fine. But I'm not going to change my statement, no way. All you have to do is go with my story and you'll stay out of jail."

"Imogen, I can't let you do this, I can't let you lie for me! I should never have started that fire but I did and I hate myself for it. I never imagined we'd end up in hospital, and for that," he gestured to her scar, wincing, "I am so, so sorry. I will never forgive myself, and if you go to prison for something that I did, then it'll only make it worse. Please, Im, go and tell the police it was me."

Imogen was full on crying now, the salty tears smudging the minimal amount of mascara that she actually wore. Her eyes were puffy and red; it wouldn't take a genius to work out she'd been crying. Unluckily for the young couple, Christine did what she did best; turning up at the wrong time and causing havoc.

"What's going on?" she started, furious that Imogen had the audacity to visit Connor after what she'd done. "You shouldn't be here."

"Mum, stop it." he said, sadly, knowing the truth had to finally come out and it had to be now. "Just leave her alone."

Christine was having none of it. "Leave her alone, after what she did to you?" Glancing towards Imogen, not even hiding her disgust, she said "You're not allowed to see him until he's spoken to the police."

"She didn't do anything, Mum. Just calm down; you don't know the facts."

Connor was terrified at the prospect of confessing and going to jail. He'd heard all about prisons from Dynasty. She was a natural raconteur – scaring her friends out of committing crimes with fearful tales of when she visited her dad inside. It was not a place he ever wanted to wind up, but there was no way he would ever let Imogen take the blame. He just had to man up.

"I want to know what's going on, right now." Christine said, frustrated, her suspicions rising.

"Imogen lied to the police to protect me." He began, unable to look his Mum in the eye. "The fire… it was me, I started it."