Finally hitting something solid, Emma gave a deep intake of breath. She felt winded and she jerked herself out of the semi-conscious reverie and opened her eyes. The room was painfully white and she blinked several times. The smell hit her first, the clinical artificial smell. Then she found herself being surrounded by faces, familiar faces.
"Emma?" The woman looked older than Emma had remembered her, her wispy blonde hair darkening at the roots and looking unkempt. Her face was stripped of make-up.
"Emma, sweetheart, it's us!" A man joined in from the other side. There was stubble on his chin, and not designer stubble either. This was accidental, not-enough-time-to-shave stubble.
"Get the doctor, Alex!" the woman ordered him.
"Hold on." The man sounded calmer. Emma felt her head start to swim as memories flooded back. Her head hurt.
"I will not hold on!" the woman hissed at him. "My little girl has been unconscious for four weeks, Alex! Get the doctor!"
Emma finally forced some words out. "Mum?"
The woman looked back at her. "Emma? Oh sweetheart, it's alright, you're fine. You're in hospital andyourdadwas just getting the doctor, weren't you?" She shot him a triumphant look.
Emma could feel the tension in the room. She managed to muster up enough energy to say, "Dad? What's happened?"
It was like being ten again. Emma wished she could have stayed in hospital longer as she sat at the top of the stairs, her arms wrapped around her legs, leaning her head up against the banisters. Even from here, she could barely hear the words of her parents' argument, just a general noise; they'd become so adept at arguing in all but the quietest of whispers. She knew she could stop it if she went downstairs and walked into the living room, but she couldn't bring herself to do that.
It had been a week since she'd come back. She'd wondered how she was going to explain her absence to her family and friends, but it seemed that was taken care of. Her accident had apparently caused widespread traffic jams up and down Oxford Street that had lasted several hours. It was a miracle she wasn't more seriously harmed. The bump on her head and a few nasty cuts and bruises down her left side, one of which had needed surgery, were all that she had to show for it. She'd been let out three days ago, when the doctors had been satisfied that there was no brain damage.
Emma didn't know why her parents had started arguing again. Her father had yet another new girlfriend from the sounds of it, one he hadn't introduced either Emma or her brother or sister to. She'd spent some of the past month at the hospital with him; obviously more of a keeper than Alison from last year.
A door on the landing opened. Emma jumped and bumped her head.
"What are you doing there?" Liam, her older brother, asked, looking down at his little sister. "That's a really dumb place to sit, Em."
"I know," Emma agreed in a small voice, as there came a loud crash from the living room. She looked up in alarm at Liam.
"It'll be nothing," Liam insisted, shrugging in mock nonchalance. "Just Dad being clumsy as usual."
The door to the living room flew open. Emma instinctively pulled herself back behind the banister post, making herself as inconspicuous as possible.
"That's right, run off, as usual!" she heard her mother taunt in a childish voice. "Leave me here bringing up your children!"
Emma could hear the weariness in her father's voice. "Carol, you know I'm not running off. You clearly don't want me here at the moment…"
"I never said that!"
"You've made it obvious." Alex sighed. "We shouldn't be arguing, we should be glad that Emma's alright…"
"Alright? You call that alright!" Carol demanded, her voice rising up a decibel. "You call her talking about lions and talking unicorns and magical faraway lands alright?"
Emma jerked her head up and looked at Liam for a reply. He looked awkward, something Liam never looked.
"The doctors are satisfied with her progress," Alex said patiently. "She had a lot of drugs in her system, she was delirious. I really think you're being unfair…"
"Oh turn it round on me as usual!" Carol snapped. Emma could identify with her father as she heard the front door slam shut behind him. She sometimes wished she could walk out too.
Liam stepped over her. "I guess I better go and check Mum's okay," he sighed heavily.
"Liam." Emma stopped him momentarily. "What Mum said… did I really say all that?"
Liam pulled a face and nodded reluctantly. "But I shouldn't worry about it, Em, like Dad said, you were delirious. And no one will ever know what you said. So don't feel stupid."
"But it's true," Emma blurted out without being able to stop herself. "It's… it's all true."
Liam frowned, but continued downstairs without another word.
"And you will never believe who text me yesterday to check on how you were!" Amber gushed, her hazel eyes sparkling excitedly. She was draped over Emma's bed, pouring over a magazine.
Emma raised her eyebrows in response. She'd forgotten how little encouragement Amber needed to talk.
"Only Craig Sutherland!" Amber sounded so enthusiastic that Emma wished she could muster up even half of her interest.
"Who?" she asked. She could remember that name, but as though she'd heard it in a dream. She tried to conjure up a picture of what someone called Craig Sutherland would look like. Edmund's face got in the way every time.
There was a long silence. Emma eventually looked up from the magazine she was flicking through lazily, not even seeing half the articles. Amber was staring at her, mouth open.
"You are joking?" she said reproachfully. Emma shook her head. "Emma! Craig Sutherland!" Emma shook her head again. "Oh my God! What happened to you when you got hit by that car? Craig Sutherland, only the fittest lad in the whole of London! Emma, you've been obsessing over him for like ever! Remember?"
Emma hesitated. Amber looked at her so keenly, so excitedly. How could she let that enthusiasm down? "Yeah, sure," she nodded eventually. "Sorry, just a bit of a mental block there."
"Oh right, yeah, cool." Amber immediately cheered up. "But anyway… he was dead interested, Emma. I gave him your number, has he not called yet?"
Emma shook her head. Amber reached over to pick up the pink mobile phone that Emma usually didn't have more than about a foot from her.
"Emma, it's not even switched on!" she shrieked, pressing the button herself. "God, no wonder he hasn't phoned!" She was silent for a few seconds before squealing with excitement as the phone beeped. "Oh my God, Em, he's actually text you! Listen! 'Really pleased to hear you're getting better, Em' – he called you Em! – 'Give me a text when you're well again, Craig'. Oh my God, Em, he actually text you and asked you to text him back!" Amber looked like she was in danger of hyperventilating. "Well, what are you gonna do?"
Emma frowned at her friend. "Do?"
"Well, he says text him back when you're well again. You are!" Amber was definitely suffering from a shortage of oxygen. Emma didn't remember her best friend being this high-pitched before. "Em, you've got to text him back, you've got to!"
Emma took the phone off her and read the badly spelt text message for herself. She did vaguely remember Craig now; captain of the football team, sat behind her in English for two years… fat lot of good that had done him, she thought, cringing at the message.
Amber was fantasising. "Oh God, Em, if you get with Craig then you could set me up with Luke! That would be so cool! Imagine us in the sixth form with those two!"
Emma's fingers hovered over the keys on the phone, unpractised and fumbling. Eventually she put the phone down.
"Actually, Amber, I'm not feeling too great," she lied.
"Oh, really?" Amber was genuinely concerned. "Should I get your mum, or…?"
"No, I just need to rest," Emma insisted. "Sorry."
"No, it's cool." Amber shook her head, so her auburn hair shimmered. "I'll give you a call tomorrow. Leave your phone on!" She headed downstairs. Emma heard her saying goodbye to her mum and the front door shutting. She turned over on her side in bed and closed her eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that she wasn't here.