Cassie
We sat in the waiting room for a long time before Tom and Jean reappeared. Both looking disappointed, but for different reasons.
"He's asleep," Jean said her voice croaky. "Where's the doctor?"
"I haven't seen him," Marco said. "How's Jake taking it?"
Jean sighed and combed her hand through her hair. It reminded me of Jake.
"Not so good," she admitted. "I think he already knew, but he wanted someone to confirm it."
I looked down at the floor.
"Hi."
I looked up. Two policemen had arrived, looking solemn.
"Are you Jake's mother?" the first policeman asked Jean. He had a stocky build and was going bald.
"Yes," she said, tentatively.
"I am Senior Constable Ben Lawson and this is Senior Constable Tom Doyle," the first policeman said, pointing to his younger partner. "You are the widow of Steve?"
"Yes," Jean confirmed. "What's going on?"
"We are investigating the cause of the car accident your son and late husband were in," Senior Constable Doyle explained. "We have statements from the truck driver involved and the other witnesses, but we need to know what was happening in the car at the time. We have done an autopsy on your husband…"
"I'm sorry?" Jean asked, clearly outraged. "You did an autopsy on my husband? Without my consent? Who gave you that right?"
"I am sorry, but it had to be done," Lawson said softly. "But it has allowed us to clear up a few things. We know that your husband was not under the influence…"
"It takes an autopsy to figure that out?" Jean demanded.
"We also confirmed that he was completely healthy at the time of the accident," Lawson continued as though Jean hadn't spoken. "So, can you tell us why your husband drove on the wrong side of the road, causing an accident that resulted in his death and several injuries to your son?"
"No, I can't," Jean snapped. "I wasn't in the car with them at the time."
"Precisely," Doyle said. "Which is why we would like to speak with your son."
"No," Jean snapped. "My son has just woken up and has just learnt of his father's fate. He doesn't need to be interrogated at the moment."
"I am sorry, Jean is it?" Doyle said gruffly, rubbing his stubble uncomfortably. "But we need to know what was happening just before the accident. Or do any of you have any information for us?"
He looked at each of us sternly. I glanced at Rachel. She had been on the phone with Jake at the time of the accident. She hadn't told us anything about what was happening, except the sounds of the car accident.
"Then I must speak with Jake," Doyle said defiantly. "Which room is he in?"
"He is asleep," Jean protested. "He is injured and he is very upset over this whole thing. I don't want you anywhere near my son."
"We need to know what happened," Lawson repeated, clearly impatient. "The room number please."
"The hell with you," Jean shouted, again attracting attention. "You're not getting anywhere near my son. You cut open my husband's body without my knowledge and now you want to go near my son? Who's to say you're not going to cut him up too?"
Doyle whispered something in Lawson's ear and Lawson nodded gravely.
"You are obviously very upset about this whole ordeal," Lawson said quietly to Jean. "We will interview your son when you and he are ready."
"Go away," Jean snapped. "Leave me in peace."
The two officers walked slowly away, gaining furious glares from nearby onlookers. Jean sat down on a nearby chair heavily.
"Rachel is your mum at work?" she asked Rachel kindly.
Rachel shook her head. "She has a day off today," she said, sitting down next to Marco.
Tom walked off in the direction of the snack bar and I sat down next to Jean while she dialled Rachel's home number. She waited a while before someone picked up the phone.
"Hello, Sara, dear is your mum home," she said, and listened. "Thankyou, sweetheart."
I marvelled at Jean. She was a strong woman. She was strong, both for her wellbeing and for Jake's. She was fierce with the police, but that didn't mean she was a bad person. She was kind, but not patronizing.
"Hi, Naomi," she said. "How are you?"
She listened to Rachel's mum on the other line.
"I'm not doing so well," she said, tears welling in her eyes again. I put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
I could hear Naomi on the line faintly.
"What's wrong Jean?" she asked, softly or maybe that's how I heard it.
Jean started to cry silently. "He's dead, Naomi," she sobbed.
I saw Marco get up and walk quietly in the direction of Jake's hospital room. Rachel followed him. I stayed behind, trying to comfort Jean.
"He's dead," she cried, not so silently anymore.
"Who's dead?" Naomi asked horrified.
"Steve," Jean broke down. "He's…he's dead…"
"Are you at the hospital?" Naomi said quickly, urgently. "I'm coming over there. Don't go anywhere."
"He's dead, Naomi," Jean cried, desperately.
"Okay, Jean, it's alright," Naomi said. I could hear Sara in the background asking what's going on. "I'll be there soon. Hang on, Jean."
Jean hung up and I was left there trying to comfort her.