The Naked Witch (A Wendy Woo Witch Lit Novel Book 1)

by Wendy Steele

  She climbed out of the bench seat and pointed in Matt’s face. “No man is going to tell me what to wear!”

  Lizzie walked unsteadily along the balcony to applause and cheers from the women drinkers. She hung tightly to the banister rail as she descended, her outburst having weakened her knees and her confidence. She was in the country somewhere between Brentwood and Hutton. She would have to call a taxi.

  “Lizzie!”

  She turned to the voice. She recognised the face. Her head spun with disbelief and anguish before she fainted.

  8

  Furious hornets fought in her ears and her eyes refused to open. A rumble of voices penetrated her skull. A single female gentle tone pierced the chaos.

  “Lie still, you’re okay. I’ve got your hand.”

  Lizzie opened her eyes. A kindly female face peered at her with concern. The owner of the face held her hand, gently stroking it. Lizzie winced at the humanity staring down on her and tried to get up.

  “Ooooh!” She clasped her head.

  “Lay still, love. You hit your head on the table on the way down. Ambulance is on its way.”

  “I…where am I? Oh, the pub…Ooooh!” A zap of pain shut her eyes. Shivers traced over her skin, a million tiny spiders ready to bite.

  “Stay with me, love. What’s your name? Where’s that blanket? She’s going into shock!”

  A squeeze of her hand brought her back. “Liz, Liz McCartney, Martin. Rowan!”

  “I can call someone for you, love but you have to stay with me.”

  Soft wool caressed her skin. She was floating on a fluffy cloud. It was peaceful here.

  “Who’s Martin, Liz? Who’s Rowan?”

  Lizzie’s eyes flashed open. “My daughter. No! Call my friend. Call Louise.”

  It wasn’t a smell as such, more an absence of any that stirred Lizzie and she opened her eyes to a stark white room. Monitors beeped and whirred and tubes and lines violated her body. Her scream brought nurses running.

  With the oxygen mask off her face, Lizzie kept apologising.

  “Don’t you worry, Mrs Martin. You’ve had a rough few days…”

  “Days!” Lizzie tried to sit up. Gentle but strong arms restrained her.

  “Now, none of that. I need to run a few tests and take some blood. If I’m happy, we’ll see about getting you a cup of tea.”

  Tears erupted from Lizzie’s eyes. “But my daughter, please. Is Rowan okay?”

  “Dark hair, stunning brown eyes?”

  Lizzie tried to smile but more tears fell.

  “She’s fine.” Nurse Mycroft lifted the clip board from the foot of Lizzie’s bed and flipped a few pages. “Mrs Davies, Louise Davies, was contacted at the scene and she came here before she and her husband fetched Rowan from home. They’ve been here with your daughter in the evenings and most of the weekend. Mrs Davies’ husband drove Rowan to school today, I believe.”

  Sobs engulfed Lizzie. Nurse Mycroft handed her tissues. Lizzie struggled as the wires and tubes constricted her movement.

  “Go gently now.”

  Nurse Mycroft’s round face softened and she patted Lizzie’s arm. “She’s a lovely girl, your daughter and a sensible one, if I may say. She was upset, of course, but Mrs Davies assured her you would wake when your body was ready. She was right.”

  “And it’s Monday?”

  Nurse Mycroft nodded. “Tests, then we’ll see about tea.” A buzzer bleeped at her belt. She glanced at the digital box. “I have to run. You rest and I’ll send Phoebe in. No more talking, you hear?”

  Lizzie tried to nod then wished she hadn’t. The bandages around her head were tight. Her scalp burned and the canon ball in her head swelled. She shut her eyes and tried to remember what had happened to cause her to be in hospital with a head containing a molten anvil.

  She sat on the grass on the river bank and watched him. The man swayed like a reed in the breeze, the half empty bottle in his hand. The sun was setting in a grey sky, the orange glow staining the ominous rain clouds with rust. He staggered towards the bridge. Lizzie watched his penultimate act, bending to place the rock on the paper. He straightened up and lumbered on.

  In the centre of the bridge, the man paused. The amber liquid drained into his mouth. He leaned against the rail. The empty bottle somersaulted in the air and she watched the man follow it.

  Sweat prickled her face and chest. A whimper escaped.

  “I’m here, Mum.”

  The dream was over and this was real. Rowan was here! Rowan was fine! Lizzie opened her eyes and quickly closed them as pain squirted venom into her eyes. She heard the curtains being drawn and fluttered her eyelids open.

  “Rowan, I’m so sorry.”

  “What for, Mum? You didn’t get pissed and make a fool of yourself, or anything. You slipped in the bar and fell and hit your head. It was an accident.”

  Lizzie tried to smile. She looked behind Rowan and Louise’s worried face appeared. “Lou.”

  “I’m here and Rowan’s fine and you will be soon.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Tell me what they said happened…when they called and after.”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “No, I’ve been trying. I went to work in my Jane Austen dress and they told me…work! I haven’t contacted…”

  “All done and dusted. Don’t you worry. I emailed Tom Melchett on Wednesday night. He’s always seemed more down to earth than David, odd those Brown’s…anyway, Tom called me almost immediately and asked if there was anything he could do.”

  Tears flushed Lizzie’s cheeks. “I’ve let them down and you, Rowan.”

  “Stop, Mum, you haven’t.”

  Louise took the tissue box and dried Lizzie’s face. She gave her the box and Lizzie could reach for it. She was only attached to one machine.

  “What’s done is done, you know that. If you’ve finished blubbing, I’ve been told you can have a tea.”

  “I’ll get it.” Rowan squeezed Lizzie’s arm, unleashing another flood, and shaking her head, left the room.

  Lizzie stemmed the flow of tears and blew her nose with clumsy hands. “Tell me, Lou about Wednesday night.”

  “The landlady called to say you’d slipped in the Thatcher’s Arms and hit your head. The ambulance had arrived and they were taking you to Queen’s. I said I’d meet them there.”

  “But why was I there? Why did I fall in the bar?”

  Louise shook her head. “You weren’t drunk, they told me that. Rowan said you were out with a friend. I did my best on your admission form but thought Rowan would do better and she needed to know so I phoned Terry. His mate dropped him over and he came with me to collect Rowan. I didn’t know if she’d need me and I couldn’t do that if I was driving but she’s a good girl. You’ve done a brilliant job bringing her up, love.”

  “Thanks, thanks for everything. And Terry too.”

  “He doesn’t mind. He’s a good one, one of the best.”

  “Lucky you, lucky both of you. What happened to me when they brought me in? My head hurts like hell.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were covered in blood from your head wound and your heart beat was erratic. That’s all I know. They had worked on you when I came back with Rowan, cleaned you up a lot and you were going off for a head scan, I think.”

  “So is this ICU?”

  Louise nodded. “But you won’t stay here long now. They’ll want to get you on a ward as soon as there’s a bed.”

  Nurse Mycroft, preceded by Rowan with a tray of teas, continued the conversation. “If your tea stays down and you feel hungry, you can have a biscuit but take it slowly. You’ve a drip still in and I’ll do your blood pressure now. Keep calm and still and you’ll be on a ward by tomorrow.”

  The cuff tightened on Lizzie’s arm. “Can you tell me, what did I do, to my head?”

  “You knocked yourself out cold on a wooden table. Gash is about four inches but it’s all stitched up
. Itchy?”

  “Sore.”

  “It’ll itch soon but sore and itchy mean it’s healing. Let me know though, if you feel unwell or there’s a change with your head.”

  “It feels like a bowling ball is trying to escape.”

  “That’s everything settling down. Sleep is your friend. Sleep often. You should wake each time feeling a little better. This is fine.” She unwrapped the cuff. “Not much longer, ladies. Enjoy your tea then call it a night.”

  Lizzie struggled to bring the cup to her mouth so Rowan helped her. Sublime hot liquid trickled down her throat. She relaxed back. Tears flowed. “It’s the helplessness. Sorry.”

  “Well, talking of bowling, it’s coming up for eight o’clock and I’m due to pick Terry up at nine. If we go now, Rowan, we can fit a game in, if you fancy it?”

  “Yeah, great, thanks Lou. Mum, I rang Nanny Martin and Granny McCartney but Dad’s phone goes straight to answerphone. I left a message. I thought he should know. Nana sends her love and said something about a shark, couldn’t really make it out. Granny…sends her love. She said she will visit you when you’re home.”

  “Thanks, Rowan. You’ve done a great job. Don’t worry about Granny. She doesn’t do blood or hospitals. What about homework?”

  Rowan turned to Louise. “Told you she was better.”

  9

  She woke to the smell of faeces. The ward bustled with staff dressed in navy, pale blue and green. The stench drifted over from a curtained bed.

  “That’s dis-gust-ing!” The young girl in the bed on Lizzie’s left, pronounced all three syllables with venom. “Some of us are trying to eat breakfast over here!”

  “It’s under control, Lucy. Keep your voice down.” A weary-faced nurse hurried to Lizzie’s bedside. “What did you want for breakfast, Elizabeth?”

  “Lizzie, um, I don’t know, do you have cereal?”

  “Take your pick.” The nurse gestured to the trolley. “Juice?”

  “Yes, please and cornflakes.”

  The items were placed on the table over her bed. “Trolley will be along in a bit with hot drinks.” The nurse picked up Lizzie’s clipboard. “Take it slow with the eating. Just a little for now. We can always find you a banana if you’re peckish again before lunch.”

  “Thanks.”

  A sweet, sickly disinfectant aroma replaced the odour of the farmyard. Staff departed but the cubicle remained curtained.

  “Nurse! What about me?” The elderly woman opposite Lizzie waved her concern.

  “You’re okay, Elsie, you’ve got your breakfast on your table. Have a look.”

  Elsie looked down, surprise and then pleasure evident on her face.

  “Bless her.” The nurse trundled out of the ward.

  “So what you in for?”

  “I hit my head.”

  “Well, I can see that, you div. You look like you’ve escaped from a tomb!”

  “Why ask then?”

  “Oooo! Hark at you! I was being friendly.”

  Lizzie turned to Lucy. Her head screamed. She wanted to be nice. She was always kind and patient. “You were being nosy, not nice. Leave me alone.”

  “Don’t worry, I will!”

  Lizzie spooned a teaspoon of cereal into her mouth and tried to chew. Her ears buzzed and nausea twisted in her stomach. She sipped her juice and the pain subsided.

  A gentle voice from Lizzie’s right calmed her. “I expect it’s the injury, why you’re feeling less charitable this morning, dear. Pain can make you do all sorts of things. I’m Brenda. In for my second new hip and looking forward to getting out of here, like everyone else. No need to turn, I can see it’s painful for you.”

  “Hello, Brenda. Sorry, Lucy. My head’s not my own today.”

  “You’re alright, Lizzie. I was being nosy. When you’re in this dump every month, other people’s lives are appealing.”

  “Nurse, nurse!”

  “Elsie, your breakfast’s on your table.”

  “Nurse, nurse!”

  Lucy, broad, blond and buxom, pushed a walking frame into view as she approached Elsie’s bed. “Here you go, Elsie.”

  Once again, surprise registered on Elsie’s face. She dipped her knife in the marmalade pot and smeared it on her bread. “Where’s my tea?”

  “They’ll be round in a bit. Anyone need anything while I’m up?”

  “I’ll have a newspaper.”

  “Me too, thanks Lucy.”

  Lizzie let her head fall back on the pillows and shut her eyes as a strange new world played out its day. It wasn’t the pain making her snap. She was naked. Naked, injured and helpless and surrounded by strangers. Her faded yellow nightgown belonged to the hospital. Her hair was covered in a shroud. Anonymous, naked and scared, Lizzie longed for her Sanctuary. Hot drinks arrived closely followed by a trolley dripping with sweets and magazines. She heard their voices but she drifted away, taking her heavy head with her.

  Lizzie woke to a sandwich, banana and juice on her tray and a hunched figure reading a book by her bedside. She reached for a tissue and knocked the juice over.

  “Let me.”

  Richard Parker mopped up the spillage, managing to save half the contents of the carton. “Can I help you with this?”

  “I’ll be okay.” Lizzie gulped the rest of the orange juice. Richard watched. She was in a nightgown in front of Sam’s father and definitely not looking her best. The empty carton fell from her fingers. “I can’t seem to focus on anything. Thanks and thanks for coming.”

  “Sam told me Thursday morning. Rowan rang him late Wednesday night. She wanted to let him know she was staying with friends. Your friend from work?”

  “Louise works security for my building. She’s been amazing.”

  “You helped with her stall, at the Charity Fayre?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “Sam said Rowan’s happy to stay with her. Seems they have a full satellite package. I think they’re arranging a movie night.”

  Lizzie’s mouth attempted a smile.

  “So, how’re you feeling?”

  “A lot better but my head doesn’t feel it belongs to me. And I’m tired. Very very tired.”

  “I’ll go.” Richard went to get up.

  “No, stay. If you don’t mind. It’s good to see a familiar face.” The face of a grey haired man with vibrant green eyes flashed into her mind and was gone.

  “Sam said you fell. In a bar.”

  “Seems so. I don’t remember anything. Not going there or who I was with or anything. It’s so frustrating. Days of my life have disappeared. And today’s Tuesday?”

  Richard nodded. “Were you drinking? Look, I only mean…well, how did your interview go? Was that why you were out?”

  “I don’t know. Talk to me. Tell me about your weekend, or something. I want to hear normal.”

  Richard smiled and sat on the bed beside her. His cheeks were flushed in the sealed hospital ward and he took a swig from a water bottle.

  “Before six, I was out in the garden, drinking coffee and reading. Had breakfast with Sam about eleven, scrambled eggs and bacon and then we had a swim. In fact, we were in and out of the pool most of the day.”

  “You have a pool?”

  She watched the blush rise in Richard’s face. “Came with the house. As did the hot tub. Is it overly pretentious?”

  “No, I was thinking Rowan would love it. She’s always been a water baby and I’ve tried to encourage her.”

  “When you’re out of here, you must both come over. We’ll make a day of it. Have a barbeque, if you fancy.”

  Lizzie allowed his warm, caring energy to wash over her. Home. She wanted to be home. She needed her Sanctuary, her space, her goddess. She reached for Richard’s hand. “Go on.”

  “We didn’t do much else Saturday. We had takeaway Chinese in the evening. Sam’s drummer came round and they hung out by the pool. Sunday, I jogged before six and did the house clean. I took Sam to practise.”

  “Mrs Mar
tin?”

  A nurse in a navy blue uniform attempted to restrain the man behind her from approaching the bed. “Mrs Martin, do you know this man?”

  Despite her head pounding like a coin stamp on speed, Lizzie smiled. Two men sat by her bedside, unfurling their feathers and strutting their intentions. It made her dizzy, two men claiming her as their concern but she enjoyed watching them, and the more they talked, the more she remembered.

  “So now you’ve introduced yourselves, I was in the pub with you, Matt. What happened?”

  “Don’t you remember? You were upset and went to the ladies. I went to find you and you’d gone.”

  “You’re lying,” said Richard.

  “Who are you calling a liar? Does this man have to stay? He’s only the father of a friend of your daughter.”

  “Richard stays. Why was I upset?”

  “About your job. You…”

  “I argued with you. Something about my job and then I went to leave…didn’t you hear the noise in the bar?”

  “I went straight outside.”

  “You said you went to find Lizzie.”

  “Butt out! This has nothing to do with you! I did go to find you. Outside.”

  “You didn’t hear anything? Wonder about the commotion in the bar?”

  “I told you to stay out of this!” Matt took Lizzie’s hand. “We can’t talk properly while he’s here.”

  Lizzie extricated her hand. Matt’s face wore a blond fluffy beard. Hair frizzed around his face and his pony tail was lank and greasy. In the confines of the ward, he smelled sour.

  “When did you leave?”

  “When I couldn’t find you.”

  “But you didn’t call until Sunday.”

  “I…no, I called Thursday. Thursday morning to see if you were alright.”

  “Rowan gave me my phone. You didn’t call until Sunday. The ambulance arrived at the pub and you left me.”