Sweatpants at Tiffanie's
Page 25
‘Now!’ she shouted. He gave her the one-fingered salute, then turned to the wall intent on more. ‘No way.’ Tiff launched herself at him, grabbed him by the belt and yanked. With a yell he smacked her aside and she fell on her bum. Incensed, she wrenched herself onto her knees and dug her nails into the nearest point of contact, his ankles.
Swearing, Aaron kicked her off his legs and descended from the sofa. ‘I gave you enough warnings, you thick bitch,’ he raged, ‘the calls, the shit, the fire. You should have taken the hint.’ Tiff crab-scrambled back a couple of paces as he advanced towards her. She barely registered the pain of the glass shards in her palms as she watched his eyes fix on her, his expression pure, unadulterated loathing. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, until it was too late.
He sprayed her in the face.
The pain was excruciating. Balled over, she tried to paw the paint away from her screaming eyes. She only sensed the kick to her gut as he landed it.
‘You took my money, you slag,’ Aaron roared.
She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his, never had been, he hadn’t deserved it, that Blackie could see the piss weasel he was, but the pressing issue of her vision, topped by being winded, trapped the words inside her. She started to crawl for the stairs, but he landed another kick to her ribs, which made her sob as much with anger as pain. She had to get up. In terms of fight or flight there was only one choice. She had to get away, but navigating a broken window blind was a no-no. The only option was up into the darkness of the floor above, where he’d be equally disadvantaged.
Squeezing her eyes tighter shut, she forced her hands down to the floor. With all her might she yanked at the protective matting the builders had left on the flooring. Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a pull; the pain seared across her ribs, but it was enough to topple him and give her time to scramble for the stairs.
Blind or not, Tiff knew this building backwards. Adrenalin-fuelled, she was up the first flight, smacking the light back off as she went, acutely aware of her pain, her laboured breathing and Aaron’s thumping footsteps behind her.
She wanted somewhere to lock herself in. Given her current state, she could only think of protecting herself and hoping he’d leave. Both her office and bedroom had phones and could be locked but each were on the top floor now and she doubted she’d make it. The Ladies locker room on the first floor had slide bolts on the cubicles. That was her plan.
Apparently Aaron had played rugby at school. Metres from the locker room she felt his arms wrap around her shins bringing them to a sharp standstill while the rest of her continued with alarming momentum towards the floor. With a screech, she just managed to extend her hands, preventing a full face-plant.
Tiff flipped over, but seconds later he was on her, pummelling with a terrifying fury. Terrified, she hoped he’d be satisfied just to have her pass out rather than die. I’m not up for dying today, the delirious thought floated across her mind. Not today. I want to see this place open. She stabbed her nails towards her estimate of his eyes, scratching like a wildcat. Aaron shouted, calling her filthy names, then raised himself to backhand her across the face. Concurrent with hearing her nose crunch and feeling the corresponding explosion of pain to her face, Tiff brought her knee up as hard and accurately as she could into his spuds.
The scream was bloodcurdling. Pleasingly, this one hadn’t come from her.
As he slow-mo tilted off her into a foetal position, Tiff crawled to the nearest doorway. By her calculations, it was the pole-fitness studio. There were free weights stacked beautifully in the corner for body-toning classes. She could use the 1kgs as missiles, or a larger weight as a gonk. On her feet and stumbling, she remembered the poles in front of her just in time to reach out her hand, connect with the first and swerve around it.
She heard Aaron’s heavy breathing at the doorway, his hand whacking the wall to find the light switch. Giving up, he moved towards her. She tried to still her breathing, but she was wheezing, crying and bubbling bloody snot out of her smashed nose, so no luck there.
Sensing his approach, Tiff had to make a decision. She didn’t know if she’d reach or find the weights in time and she’d rather he didn’t have them to brain her with. He was only a couple of feet away now, tracking her wheezy breathing.
She wasn’t willing to run and cower in the corner; she was going down fighting. In a final burst she grabbed high on the pole with both hands and launched her feet at him horizontally. Her ribs shot a thunderbolt of pain across her, rendering her kick not nearly as high as she’d intended. A kick to the face had been her goal. As it was, she had to settle for dealing him a colossal double footed blow to the knackers. Once had been hard enough for him – this second assault to his crown jewels made him faint with pain. Tiff landing on him in an untidy heap sealed the deal and he lay still.
Gasping from the landing and a shit tonne of pain, Tiff thought to escape, but sensed he wasn’t moving. She could keep blindly running and pray he didn’t follow, or she could ensure he didn’t continue the chase and buy some time to call the police, because god knew she wasn’t going to stay conscious much longer. She frantically patted the floor in front of her, crawling in the direction of where she knew the stacked equipment to be. Reaching it, she grabbed a couple of the most resistant stretch bands and with the last dregs of adrenalin, her burning eyes scrunched tight, Tiff roughly managed to bind his hands behind him. She could feel the blood dripping from her face, but didn’t have time to wipe it and didn’t care whether she bled on him. She tied his feet for good measure too, simultaneously stressed and relieved as he began to squirm. She hadn’t killed him, then.
She emitted a wracking sob as she hauled herself to her feet and staggered to the staircase. Her mobile phone and her bed upstairs tempted her. The idea of waiting there for the police to arrive, snuggled in her duvet felt like deliverance, but her survival instinct (and ribs) told her to head downwards, letting the walls of the staircase support her, to stay closer to the doorway and use the phone at reception, rather than climbing further into the building.
After several frustrating misdials, Tiff found Emergency Services were calm and patient as she struggled to align her words. If she could just finish the call, she could curl up on the sodding sofa to wait. Only, Tiff’s legs gave out and she slid unconscious down the wall as she tried to recall and convey the address.
Chapter 32
The beeping woke her, but the host of irregular sensations dragged her into consciousness.
‘You were out cold when they stretchered you to the ambulance.’ Someone was talking to her, jabbering along as though she was listening. Her hand was warm, enveloped in the skin of another. Tiff wasn’t inclined to open her eyes because lying there in the toasty soft bed, she’d been having a marvellous sleep. The noises in the room were foreign to her usual wake-up routine. The voice was male for a start and it’d been a while since she’d woken up to one of those. Confused, she decided to have a quick check about before she dozed off again, but found she couldn’t.
‘Don’t try your eyes, Angel. They’re bandaged shut,’ the voice said. ‘I know you’re awake. Your swollen nose is flaring.’ She knew that voice. Hearing it made her happy, but her face wouldn’t smile.
‘Mikey, where’s my bedroom gone?’ Her voice was slurry. She knew he’d just told her various questionable things, but she couldn’t sort them in her head.
‘You’re having an NHS mini-break, Tiff. Seems you fancied breakfast in bed.’ The hold on her hand tightened.
‘Hmm, not hungry.’
‘Not surprising,’ he murmured.
‘Maybe sleep now.’
‘Go ahead, Angel. You’re drugged to the gills.’
She thought to reply, but lost the thread.
Her hand was still enveloped when she woke again.
‘Mikey?’
‘Right here.’
‘Gotta get up.’
‘Yeah, but not today.’
‘Gym to sort. Kit
coming. Press.’ Why was speaking so hard? She felt breathless with every word.
‘It’s Sunday morning, Tiff. You’re busy here at the moment.’
Something there caused her to focus. She was missing everything at the gym.
‘Noo,’ she moaned, her eyes stinging a little as the tears welled. Then they stung a whole lot. ‘My eyes!’ Once, she’d accidentally rubbed them with chilli-fingers; this was much worse.
‘They’ve bathed them as much as possible to remove the paint. Now your eyes have to do their own thing.’ She recalled something about paint. Had she had a decorating accident?
‘Can I see?’ It was a question she’d never imagined having to ask.
‘We’re hoping for a full recovery, Tiff. We have to wait and see.’ He stumbled. ‘Oh shit. Sorry, that’s not what I meant. We just have to wait, let your body heal. Keeping your eyes closed is best. Means they can focus on – oh shit. Sorry…’
She squeezed his hand to stop him babbling.
Things were beginning to unmuddle in her head; Aaron holding a spray-can, a fight, tying him up, but not much more.
‘What happened?’ she asked, turning towards him, before being overcome by pain across her entire torso, howling, then instinctively rolling back, to more pain and howling.
‘Want more drugs?’ He sounded worried.
She shook her head. That hurt too. Everywhere hurt now she’d started to notice.
‘The diagnosis says you’ve three broken ribs, a busted nose, cut hands, bruising and eye trauma.’ Mike sounded formal as he repeated what he’d been told, then dropped to a low growl. ‘Bastard blinded you, then kicked and thumped the crap out of you. If the police hadn’t been there, I’d have done the same to him.’ Tiff winced, but even that ached. The drug offer sounded more appealing.
‘Did they find him?’
‘Yeah, they found him, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Nice job with the knots. Clearly you’ve got more skills to show me.’
Tiff sensed some innuendo going on, but she couldn’t quite work it out.
‘You were out for the count in reception with the phone in your hand. Fuck, you scared me, Tiff.’ Her hand was pulled up to meet his unusually stubbly cheek. ‘You were white as a sheet, blood streaming out of your nose with black paint across your eyes. You looked like The Joker slumped against the wall. I thought you were…’ He couldn’t say it. She squeezed his hand again and he nearly crushed hers in response, until she yelped from the cuts. ‘The paramedics got you sorted. I said I was your boyfriend so they’d let me come along. Sorry.’
‘S’fine.’ She rather liked the sound of that.
‘They brought him out to the police car. I don’t know what you did to him, Angel, but he’s walking kinda funny.’
‘Blunt-force trauma to the balls.’
‘Good girl.’ She felt him push some hair away from her face with his fingertips. ‘Shitbag.’ He was reining in his anger.
Something occurred to her.
‘How come you were there?’ He’d walked out, hadn’t he?
‘I wanted to see you.’ He made it sound obvious.
‘Okay.’ That would do for now.
‘I’d just pulled up. The lights were all off. I assumed you’d gone out.’ He paused and drew a breath. ‘Then a car passes, headlights lighting up the club and I see the broken window. So I get out to see if it’s kids playing silly buggers, pelting stones. I get to the front door, see all the graffiti and I know the place’s been done over. I didn’t go in, because I figured it’d be best waiting for the police. Finger prints and that. And then I saw your toes. Sticking out from behind the desk. And I thought the worst.’
She didn’t need to see him to know he looked stricken. Mike cleared his throat.
‘I sat inside, holding you. There were sounds coming from upstairs; groans and dragging sounds, but I wouldn’t shift. You had a pulse, but without knowing the damage, I didn’t want to move you. I left the police to investigate.’
Tiff felt spent. She was hungry but also tired and couldn’t decide which to go with. And she’d a nagging feeling there was something she needed to tell him…
‘Want some food? Soup or something?’
Oh, that sounded good. She started nodding, but the sleep overtook her again.
Tiff was ravenous and her rumbling stomach had woken her. Her hand was free and cold. Her eyes were still bandaged. She wasn’t sure what to do now and it made her feel vulnerable. She started frantically feeling about for the button to call the nurse.
‘Seriously, Tiff?’ said a voice from the other side of the room. ‘This whole time you’ve been living in the gym? Sleeping in a cupboard? You won’t believe how pissed off I am with you.’
Ah.
She should have known this was coming. She should have been worried about the wrath of Shelby as opposed to her potential blindness.
In preparation for the onslaught, she attempted to look as pitiful as possible, but had to swear a bit as the head of the bed raised with Shelby plonking herself on the foot-end.
Tiff took a pre-emptive strike. ‘I was embarrassed about being single again when I thought he was going to propose. I didn’t want to spend evenings dissecting the break up or my failed relationship. I didn’t want to be that friend sleeping on the sofa. Blackie left me the gym and there was so much to do and it was easier. Any of those reasons. You can pick one or combine.’
‘And you put yourself in danger and nearly got yourself killed,’ Shelby added.
‘That wasn’t one of my reasons or one of your choices.’
‘What were you thinking, taking him on?’ In respect of it being a hospital Shelby was speaking quietly – but in a hissy screech, ‘I bet you didn’t think for one second what I’d do without you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tiff mollified her. God, it was good to hear her voice. Between Shelby and Mike, she felt safer, supported.
‘The nurse said someone left you this thermos of soup,’ Shelby said, still in a snit, but pressing a cup into her hand. The warmth of the soup working its way down to her belly was a welcome distraction from her aching ribs and throbbing face. It made her feel fractionally more human. Shelby took the cup off her and stole a big slurp.
‘Ugh, mushroom. Gross.’ The cup was placed firmly back in her hand. ‘The whole place was cordoned off yesterday, Tiff. Like flipping CSI. Nat phoned to tell me. They wouldn’t let me in here last night because a) it wasn’t visiting hours, b) family only, and when I pointed out I am virtually the sum total of yours they said that c) your boyfriend had already been and you were off your tits on the sleeping drugs. So you’ve shit-loads of explaining to do. If you’ve let Gavin waltz back in and take over—’
‘Mike. Mikey was here.’
‘Mike is your boyfriend? Whoa there, missy. That was one huge omission.’
‘He only said it to get in the ambulance and it kind of stuck.’
‘Hmm.’ Shelby sounded suspicious.
‘Shelby, it’s customary to bring sympathy with you to hospitals.’
‘Not sure sympathy helps anybody. Just makes you dwell on your issues.’
Tiff was about to suggest potential blindness as a sympathy-worthy ailment, but it freaked her out even beginning to think about it and thankfully, the door swung open before she could start to.
Shelby snorted a laugh. ‘It’s the doctor, Tiff. You should have seen your little face light up. If Mike’d seen it, you’d have been mortified. No sense of cool at all.’
‘Yeah, because cool is key when there’s a bandage around your face.’
‘Lots of people like being blindfolded, Tiff,’ Shelby lectured, before adding to the doctor, ‘She’s had a very limited sex life.’
‘I… Um… that’s not…,’ the doctor blustered. He sounded young.
‘You look familiar,’ Shelby said to him, ‘Did we…you know? Last Christmas?’
‘Leave him alone, Shelby,’ Tiff warned, turning expectantly towards his voice.
> ‘I’ve come to remove the bandage and examine your eyes.’ He sounded relieved, possibly grateful, to change the subject.
Shelby took her hand. She might be stingy with the verbal sympathy, but she knew when Tiff needed her. Tiff starting to shake might have been a clue too.
The doctor worked quickly. Most likely to escape Shelby. First the gauzy bandage was unwound from Tiff’s head and then the two pads were removed from her closed eyelids. She liked the cooler air on her skin again but she was reluctant to open her eyes, scared witless of what she would – or wouldn’t – see. The doctor explained what they were hoping for, but she didn’t take it all in.
‘Come on, babes. One at a time if you have to, but you need to do it.’
Tiff felt a tear slip out from one. It didn’t hurt as much as before.
‘Tears are good, Tiffanie. They’ll flush out the detritus and you can gauge the pain levels,’ the doctor encouraged her, apparently chuffed to see her crying.
‘What if I can’t see?’ She didn’t know where to start in that scenario, the implications of it being overwhelming. Her entire world would change and she’d only just rebuilt this new one.
‘Then we’ll deal with it,’ Shelby answered, as if Tiff had been asking her. Which she hadn’t. ‘Let’s work out the state of play, yeah? Then the doc can do his job.’
She held her breath and tried. Nothing much moved. She hadn’t realised how swollen her eyes were until then. Trying again she opened one a fraction. Small steps seemed like a plan. Whacking them both open to nothing but black felt like a nightmare. There was definitely light coming in at the crack. A little more and she could determine colours and basic shapes. Fully open, she could definitely see, but nothing was clear. She didn’t give a sound or clue, but her fingers were clenched tight around Shelby’s who was clenching pretty tightly back. She opened the other at a faster pace, but the result was the same, perhaps a little worse. It looked as if Vaseline had been thickly smeared across everything. She knew the shapes and the colours, but suspected her brain was filling the gaps. Shelby’s face, which she knew so well, was fuzzy. She let out a sob.