The front door was ajar, all the lights on, inside more young people, and an atmosphere she recognized: the drained, worried faces, the stunned silence or muted comments.
‘Where’s Olivia Canning?’ she said to a couple sitting on the stairs. They both held bottles of Spanish beer, slices of lime wedged in the necks.
‘Through there,’ the girl said, nodding at a door towards the back of the house.
As Janet reached it, the door swung open and a uniformed cop came through. Behind him she glimpsed the high-vis jackets of paramedics.
‘Olivia Canning,’ Janet said.
‘You her mother?’ said the cop.
Janet shook her head. ‘My daughter’s with her. I’m DC Scott.’
He blinked, reassessing her. ‘They’re bringing her out soon. Taking her up to A &E.’
‘Do we know how-’ Janet began but he apologized, ‘Sorry, I need to get names and addresses.’
Janet stared at him.
‘She’s unresponsive,’ he said. He didn’t say any more. Janet swallowed, fought the fears crowding behind her breastbone. She went into the room.
‘Mum.’ Elise broke away from a group of teenagers huddled to the left of the room and came to Janet, who hugged her. Olivia lay on the floor on a stretcher. The paramedics had put an oxygen mask over her face, a cellular blanket around her.
‘Can you get the door?’ the nearest paramedic said.
Janet released Elise and pulled the door open.
‘Cheers,’ he said. They lifted the stretcher, releasing the wheels that turned it into a trolley, and guided it slowly through the entrance hall.
‘Which hospital?’ Janet asked.
‘Oldham General.’
‘Did you ring Vivien and Ken?’ Janet said to Elise.
Elise looked wrung out, puffy red nose, swollen lips, mascara smeared black under her eyes. She pressed her lips together and more tears came. ‘They’re away for the weekend,’ she said.
‘But you were staying… Oh God. Away where?’
‘Edinburgh,’ she squeaked.
‘They need to know, now!’ said Janet.
‘I don’t have their numbers.’
‘Christ!’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-’
‘What? Spin me some story?’ Janet had almost rung Vivien to check she was happy about the arrangements. But she had trusted Elise. She took a deep breath. ‘Never mind about that now. We need to get to the hospital and get Vivien’s number from Olivia’s phone. She’s never collapsed like this before, has she?’ Janet studied her daughter’s face.
‘No.’
‘What was she drinking?’
‘Just cider.’
‘Just cider,’ Janet said. ‘How much cider?’
‘Not much,’ Elise said.
‘Did she take anything?’ Janet was vaguely aware of people in the room clearing up cans and dirty glasses.
‘No,’ Elise said. Too quickly. Janet looked at her; Elise wouldn’t meet her gaze. ‘What did she take, Elise?’ Janet lowered her voice, repeated the question, ‘What did she take?’