Burning Bright

Chapter 38

Eoin turned up eventually with a huge grin on his face and his laptop.

‘Got something to show you,’ he said.

‘Me first. Got something to tell you.’

‘Oh yes? Well I know you can’t be-’

‘Eoin!’

‘Oh shit, sorry. Sorry!’ I raised my eyes heavenward while my Mum grinned with amusement. ‘Sorry, Kate, what is it?’

‘Well you know I’ve been having physio for the last couple of weeks.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I walked today.’

‘Oh honey, that’s fabulous! Did you see her?’ he asked of my parents.

‘Yes, yes we did.’

‘It wasn’t far,’ I added. ‘Just a few steps, but . . .’

‘Sprinting out of here, don’t forget, Kate.’

‘Anyway, what was it you wanted to show us?’

‘Ben, Kara, I wanted you to see this before you left today. It kind of explains why Kate’s in here.’ He took out his laptop, hooked it up to the TV in my room and the four of us watched his first edit of the tiger sanctuary documentary.

Mum, sitting next to me, was crying before it was even ten minutes in as Eoin showed footage he had obtained of shot or maimed tigers being hunted for Chinese medicines, or, even worse, sport. I’d seen this before so remained dry-eyed until we got to the tiger cub and her mother, knowing what happened to them. I reached out for Eoin’s hand and he held it in both of his pressed against his heart.

As it finished an hour and a half later, after showing the footage of the incident in which I was injured, the last scenes were of the dead mother followed by the rescued cub alone in a cage back at the heart of the sanctuary being tended to by the staff, and then it faded to black.

Even Dad was wiping his eyes as he comforted my mother.

‘Erm, I’m not sure whether this was the reaction I actually wanted,’ Eoin said, looking round us.

‘But . . . it was brilliant,’ I hiccupped between sobs.

‘Yes, it was,’ Mum said. ‘Oh God,’ and set off sobbing again.

‘The music . . . beautiful . . .’ I began.

‘Oh yes. I was pleased with that. Banjul in put me in touch with the people who’d done the music for the tiger sanctuary promotion which I loved, and they recorded this for the documentary for me. I’ve not finished editing yet, and obviously I can’t release it.’

‘You can’t?’ I asked.

‘Not until after the trial. Manish was very specific about that. Oh, there’s a date. Week after next.’

‘But I’ll still be in here.’

‘Doctor said you should be OK and can have a nice day out at the court. Won’t that be fun?’ He saw my face. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you.’

It was tough saying Goodbye to my parents at the end of their two week stay, but they’d definitely thawed, possibly even warmed, towards Eoin, mainly because of the tigers. He took them to see the cub I’d rescued, being one of the few people being allowed access to it while it was being looked after, and they even allowed my mother to feed it while Eoin took some pictures. By the time they left for home, he was on teasing terms with my mother and arguing about football with my father. They were both good signs. Very good signs. Particularly when my mother gave him the biggest hug and told him to look after me. They would have stayed longer but I insisted they go home as there was little they could actually do. I couldn’t have gone with them, not that I wanted to, as I couldn’t fly.

The trial was challenging in so many ways. It was the first time I had been out of the hospital and, quite frankly, it hurt. I was wearing a chest brace and felt like Hannibal Lecter in a wheelchair, and every bump sent shockwaves through my back, but I had to do this. Eoin had travelled with me in the ambulance, and I was accompanied by one of the hospital staff to push me, having been briefed by Manish on how to answer questions. We arrived at the back of the court to be met by a crowd of photographers. Eoin was wearing one of the tiger cub T-shirts and distracted the attention away from me as much as he could as I was wheeled into the courthouse. Once inside, he changed into a shirt and his suit jacket before entering the court.

The two men who had been captured and, given the weight of evidence from both our statements and the video footage, pleaded guilty. Tim was sentenced for fourteen years, the man in the safari suit, a South African who had been funding the capture and removal of the tiger cubs, to ten. Only Mr Patel, who had been charged with aiding and abetting the tiger poachers, pleaded not guilty. He glared at me as I was wheeled in front of the Magistrate to give my evidence who gave me a smile of recognition.

‘You claim you saw Mr Patel at the Vimla Tiger Sanctuary on two occasions?’ the defence lawyer asked me.

‘No, only the once. The other time I identified him from Eoin’s video.’

‘So the one time you saw him, where were you?’

‘At the bottom of the hollow freeing the tiger cub from-’

‘And where was Mr Patel?’

‘At the top of the slope holding Banj-’

‘And what was the distance between the two of you?’

‘About . . . fifty metres?’

‘And what was the visibility like?’

The pain was starting to spread from my back down my legs but I focused on answering the question. ‘It was early dawn but the light was more than adequate to identify him.’

‘And would you describe the situation you were in as stressful?’

‘Not so stressful that I couldn’t identify someone I’d worked with for three years.’

‘And what was your working relationship like with Mr Patel?’

‘Professional.’

‘Even though you were suspended from work for an affair with someone you stood surety for?’

‘Objection!’ Manish called over the buzz of whispering from the public gallery.

The Magistrate nodded. ‘Upheld. Mr Munad, you will restrict your questions to the case in point. Miss Curran is not on trial here.’

‘I’m sorry, your Honour. But as this is a case of the witness’s word against that of my client, I think it’s important to test her credibility as a witness.’

‘You might. I do not. Please continue without challenging Miss Curran’s integrity.’

‘Yes, Your Honour.’ The demand seemed to stop him in his tracks and I was willing him to continue as the pain was increasing, but he eventually recovered and simply asked, ‘Is there any doubt in your mind that you could have been mistaken?’

‘None at all.’

‘No more questions, Your Honour.’

As I was wheeled out of the court room, I was feeling faint with the pain. Eoin was still in the court room waiting to give evidence, and although I desperately wanted to see him, I couldn’t drag him away from the trial. If Eoin wasn’t there to defend the evidence of his video tape, then the case against Mr Patel could fall apart. And that thought was more painful than what I was currently feeling. And then, even more scarily, the pain disappeared to be replaced by a numbness and I started to feel very odd.

‘Can you take me back to the hospital?’ I asked my nurse. ‘Now. Please.’

I must have passed out on the journey back as I roused to find myself flat on a trolley and heading to the operating theatre. And then oblivion again.