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Chapter 5

"I've been thinking about something," Clara told him in a hushed voice while she held his hand, squeezing it gently, "You still haven't taken me to Glasgow and you've been promising me for years that you would show me your home town. And then there's the matter of children. As long as we haven't raised any kids together, I can't let you go. You can't leave me. Do you hear that, John? We have plans, so you better recover."

John showed no reaction at all and Clara felt a little silly to talk to him when he wasn't responding in the slightest. What were the chances that he could even hear her? But Dr Jones hat encouraged her to talk to him, yet Clara got the impression that it was only meant to make herself feel better.

The door to his room opened and a few moments later her grandmother stepped inside, smiling kindly and holding a cup of tea in her direction.

"Is that allowed in here?" Clara asked with her eyebrows raised.

Her grandmother merely shrugged. "No one stopped me," she explained as she handed Clara the mug, "Then again, no one saw me either."

She smiled weakly in response before she took a sip from her tea and her grandmother pulled up a chair next to her.

"I met Dr Jones on my way to the cafeteria though," her grandmother explained, "She wants to talk to you about the surgery later."

Clara nodded and continued to drink her tea, yet she was aware that there was something odd about her grandma's posture. She had already noticed earlier today. It was as if there was something on her mind and she wasn't sure whether she should share it with Clara or not.

"Is there any other news?" Clara asked casually.

Her grandmother shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"You can tell me," she said, turning to look at her grandmother, but she avoided her gaze.

"I don't want to burden you unnecessarily," she replied gravely, "You've already got enough on your plate."

Clara set the mug down with a sigh. "Yeah, cause telling me that there is something, but you won't tell me what it is so I can't worry about it won't worry me at all. I'll sleep like a baby tonight, not wondering about what it is that you're not telling me."

"Bonnie," her grandmother said simply.

Clara's head shot around in an instant, her eyes wide. That was the last thing she would have expected right now.

"She's in town and she called to let me know."

"Huh," Clara huffed, "I thought she'd be in prison by now."

"She was. She's out now, says she has changed," her grandmother told her, her voice utterly calm.

"I don't care," she replied angrily, "Bonnie has made it very clear that she doesn't care about our family. She made it clear when she refused to go to Mum's funeral, she made it clear when she ran away from home. I haven't heard a word from her since then. No call, no card, not for Christmas, not for any birthday, not for my wedding. I don't care whether she's changed or not. She can stay the hell away from me."

"She's your sister," her granny argued.

"I don't have a sister," Clara spat back, "I had one until she decided not to give a shit about me or you or Mum and Dad. You can meet her over coffee if you like, but you'll only be disappointment in the end when she lets you down again."

It was unbelievable that her sister had the audacity to return and even contact her grandmother after everything that had happened in the past, but Clara knew one thing for certain: she would never forgive Bonnie.

Her sister had always been difficult, but the typical stubborn behaviour of a teenager was surpassed after their mother's death. Clara could still remember vividly how she had stood in her sister's room, wearing a new black dress, begging and pleading with Bonnie to attend the funeral. Her sister had done nothing but turn up the volume of her music.

Then, when they had been 16, Bonnie had started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Left wing extremists, anarchists, troublemakers. After they had been caught vandalizing a building, their father had seen no other way than to ground his almost grown up daughter. Over night Bonnie had packed her things and vanished, never to be heard from again. Until now.

"Why?" Clara asked plainly, "Why now?"

When her grandmother looked back at her, appearing so uncomfortable and apologetic, Clara had her answer and she could hardly believe it to be true.

"You've been in contact the whole time?!"

"No, not the whole time," her granny replied calmly, "Only for the past few months. She called me from prison, said she was sorry and asked if I would meet her over coffee once she was released."

Clara exhaled sharply, still unable to wrap her head around the fact that her sister was back and trying to make contact, but she wouldn't give in, not after everything Bonnie had done to this family.

"You weren't there, grandma, not all the time," she explained, "The things she said to me, to Dad,. . . I can't just pretend they never happened. I know she was a teenager and maybe she really has changed, but that change comes a little too late for me."

A knock on the door interrupted whatever her grandmother had intended to say and Dr Martha Jones stepped inside the room only moments later, wearing a light smile on her face. Clara was relieved to see it because somehow she instantly got the feeling that there would be good news – and she was in dire need of hearing something positive.

"I have good news," Martha Jones confirmed instantly, "We've reviewed the latest ICP results and we're glad to see that the brain swelling has started to recede."

Clara breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she heard her say it. "That's wonderful," she replied, smiling broadly, "When will you wake him up?"

"If everything goes according to our expectations, in two or three days. But before we do that we would like to perform the surgery to fix his leg. Like I said, his thigh bone is fractured."

"Won't it heal on its own?" Clara asked.

In reply Dr Jones handed her the x-ray which Clara thought must belong to John and on it she could clearly see the problem, even as a layman.

"We need to bring both ends of the fracture back together," Martha Jones explained, pointing at the fractured bone that would definitely need some medical assistance to grow back together, "We'll fixate it internally. The process is called osteosynthesis, but don't worry. The surgery is standard and there are very few things than could go wrong. If we do this, your husband will be able to resume normal activities once it's fully healed."

"Alright," she eventually agreed and glanced back at John. Two or three days. Then she would finally have him back. Everything was going to be fine.