Darkside Read Free Page A

jump. He fumbled around for it and checked the caller display. It was Mrs Elwood – their next-door neighbour, and his dad’s only friend. That could only mean one thing. Bad news.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHi, Jonathan. It’s me. Look . . . your dad’s fallen ill again. They’ve taken him to the hospital. I’m going to drive there now. Are you still at school? I’ll pick you up on the way.”
    Jonathan looked around. Rows and rows of windows stared blankly back at him. “No, it’s all right. I’m on my way home,” he said.
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    M rs Elwood tapped her fingers on the steering wheel with impatience. “Bloody roadworks! Nothing’s moving tonight. I’m afraid the journey’s going to take an age.” She reached down to the glove compartment and extracted a couple of rather elderly sweets from the clutter. “Want one?”
    Jonathan shook his head. “I’m OK.”
    Mrs Elwood smiled, and gave him a quick pat on the arm. She was a tiny woman, perhaps only four foot five, with long blonde hair that reached down and tickled her waist. She needed to sit on a cushion to see over the steering wheel, and the pedals had been specially adapted to allow her feet to make contact with them. The first time he had ridden in a car with her, this unusual set-up had made Jonathan feel very nervous. That had been years ago. Now he knew that Mrs Elwood was a fast, smooth driver: not a woman to be underestimated.
    â€œI was watching the news before you turned up,” she said, chewing thoughtfully on a toffee. “A boy your age has gone missing on a school trip. In Trafalgar Square. And in broad daylight, too! His parents must be going mad with worry.”
    Jonathan grunted. He wanted to turn the radio on, but he knew that she wanted to talk to him, to try and make him feel better. As ever when his dad was ill, Jonathan was struggling with how to react. He felt that everyone expected, almost wanted him to be crying and wailing with anxiety. But then Alain Starling had been ill so many times, and Jonathan had spent so many hours waiting in draughty hospital corridors, that he didn’t really have the strength to feel anything any more. This was just . . . what happened.
    â€œHow did you find out about Dad?” he asked.
    â€œI saw the ambulance going past from my front window. I had a horrible premonition it was for him. So I went outside, and saw it parked outside your house.” She sighed. “Oh, it’s such a shame, Jonathan. I thought he’d been doing much better recently. He seemed more like his old self.”
    Jonathan shrugged. He didn’t really know what his dad’s “old self” was like. Alain had been distant and remote with his son for as long as he could remember. But then, Jonathan knew that Mrs Elwood had known his dad for a long time, long enough to remain his friend after everyone else had gone away. Maybe he had been different back then.
    She was right about one thing, though. It had been a while since his dad had fallen ill. Everyone had different names for what happened: neighbours described them as turns or episodes ; doctors used a variety of incredibly long and complex medical terms to hide the fact they didn’t know what was going on; the kids in his school simply said he’d gone nuts. Jonathan preferred to use the word his dad had whispered in his ear once, in a rare moment of clarity. The darkening, son. I can feel the darkening . . .
    The cars in front of them slowly began to move away. Mrs Elwood patted Jonathan on the arm again and smiled. “It’ll be all right, you know. Do you want the radio on?”
    Jonathan nodded, and they didn’t say another word to each other until they reached the hospital.
    Like a medieval monastery, St Christopher’s Hospital sheltered from the outside world behind a high wall in an area towards the west of the city, near Hyde Park.