by Valerie Laws
It all seemed like too much trouble. Timing the breaths to coincide with her mouth being above water… such hard work. It would be easier to stop breathing. She’d always wanted to do that. Be free from the drudgery of breathing, so happy in the sea like a seal… Will reached out for her, but she shrank from him, terrified he’d pull her arm, managing to gasp out, ‘arm - broke’ in fits and starts. He understood. He was over the first shock now and able to breathe. He had more strength left than Erica and, making sure Archer’s mouth was above water as much as possible, held onto Erica as her numb hand lost the power to grip the lifebelt. ‘Why bother?’ she thought. ‘Just let it all go.’
She thought of her mother, Jamie, her sister, her friends, her patients who needed her, but mostly she thought of Craig Anderson, Archer, Gupta; if she just gave up, she’d never know what happened. She had to know. She saw something dark ahead, heard the throb of an engine and realised the inshore lifeboat, run by volunteers now that the local coastguard station had been closed, was on its way, called by the harbourmaster presumably. Everything was being taken care of. Will was looking towards the boat. She lay back, looking up at the darkening sky and the lighthouse rising and falling, and like Ben Gunn she longed for toasted cheese, could even smell it, oily and salty.
She didn’t get any cheese on toast or sympathy.
‘Erica, you crazy fucking stupid idiot!’
Someone was dragging her into the inflatable lifeboat. It was Will, his hair plastered to his skull, water running off him. Hassan was there too, as was the harbourmaster, they’d dragged Will on board, and now all three men were bringing Erica and Archer onto the boat.
CHAPTER FORTY
The euphoria of incipient hypothermia, the numbness of her broken arm, not to mention all her other extremities, the peace of that little boat and all that followed seemed dream-like as she was hoisted, wheeled, moved, wrapped in silver foil like a roasting chicken, horizontal, helpless, reduced to a patient, a victim. She could hardly move or speak, her throat burned by salt, and after being taken in the ambulance to the very hospital she’d visited in search of information, she lay in Resuscitation while the nurses cut off her clothes and chatted to each other as if she wasn’t there. The cold had chilled right into the core of her, and now it was chilling her again on its way out, drawn out by osmosis in the overheated hospital, and she convulsed with shivering.
‘I expect Jamie Lau will want to know about this one,’ said one voice knowingly. ‘He is interested in this case, if you know what I mean.’
‘So are the police,’ said another. ‘They’re hanging about out there now, making the place look untidy. Still, that Inspector is well fit. I wouldn’t mind cutting his clothes off and checking his vital signs.’
‘He’s with the old bloke they fished out.’
Archer! She tried to speak, to ask what had happened to him.
‘Just lie quiet now and we’ll soon have you sorted out,’ a blur of a face shouted into hers as if to a fool. They continued their conversation.
‘He should be OK. But it looks like he’s in big trouble with the police. Anyway, you know I’d heard Jamie was going out with some kind of alternative therapist. I expect she’ll be a right pain. Probably make a fuss about meds and so on.’
‘Well they’ve filled her full of antibiotics already, like it or not. That water is filthy. An attempted suicide they brought in here, his arm got infected, and when they analysed it, it was a bowel infection! In his arm!’
‘Gross! You wouldn’t get me swimming in there. Hate being a patient, me. You’re no better. When that traction weight dropped on your foot, what a bleeding fuss! Even the great Kingston was a right wuss where his own health was concerned.’
‘It’s not as if he ever had any sympathy for anyone else.’
‘Story goes, few years ago, His Godship had a minor op and came straight into work. Only fainted, didn’t he! Gasping like a landed fish he was. Delayed shock. Silly sod.’
‘Yeah, he’d have thought he was above human reactions. Git.’
‘Dead git now.’
‘Good riddance. Let’s get that arm immobilised. Here’s some gas and air pet!’
This was for Erica to hear apparently. ‘Just take a whiff with each breath. It’s good stuff.’
‘I often have a puff meself when I’m passing,’ confided the other nurse. ‘She’s quite bonny, isn’t she? I bet that hair’s lovely when it’s not full of mucky water and worse.’
‘More bony than bonny if you ask me. Don’t know what Jamie Lau sees in her. He’s a cutie.’
The gas and air sent waves of anaesthesia through her. Jamie’s face swam into her field of vision. She tried to smile; he would hover over her like a beautiful angel, stroking her fevered brow, not like horrible Will Bennett. No chance. He looked grim. He looked mainly at her arm instead of into her eyes, and when he did pay her any attention, it was only to say angrily, ‘What the hell have you been doing to yourself?’
The nurses exchanged looks across her body. Dr Lau wasn’t normally like this. She made a huge effort.
‘Good thing you’re so good in bed,’ she croaked in an alien whisper.
Amid much giggling from the nurses, Jamie’s face vanished. She heard him saying something about theatre, and then they rigged up a drip and she lost interest in the proceedings again.
She came round gradually. She still felt the swaying of the sea, she was back in the lovely little boat, heavy all over with water, her hair spread out like seaweed… she saw Archer’s distorted face smoothed out by the merciful sea… golf club swishing, golf balls… she saw Kingston fall in the dark... no, she was there, bending over him, it was light, hot and stuffy, she was at the swimming pool, that’s why her hair was wet of course… the lifeguard was insisting on calling an ambulance for him… he’d fainted after an operation, a little operation…. Just a little prick with a needle, I know you are, doctor, but what are you going to do…
‘Erica darling!’ Her mother’s voice. ‘That nice Inspector Bennett called me. Wasn’t that kind of him with all he’s got to do? And a nice young Chinese doctor was in here holding your hand when I arrived. I suppose that was Jamie? I’ve brought you some big tee shirts, I know you’ve got no nighties and that hospital one is horrible. And some flowers darling, and fruit. Don’t try to talk. I’ve moved into your place for a bit, so I can visit you every day. They’ve put a wire in your arm and a plaster cast on it, that’s why it’s so heavy.’
Into her place? At least her skull collection would get dusted for once. It’s an ill wind. There was something important she had to say, but she couldn’t think what it was. Awkward lie... She went back to sleep.
She had a room to herself. That was one blessing anyway. Because of the police interest in her, or because of Jamie’s, she didn’t ask. The sheets were beautifully crisp thick cotton. Everything else was purgatory. The food. If food it could be called. The drugs, given out at set times whether you wanted them or not or needed more, sooner. Being woken at the crack of dawn for no obvious reason, having spent all night trying to get to sleep. She managed to sit up and do things for herself though it’s surprisingly hard to give yourself a bed-bath with one arm, on a slippery bed when exhausted, black and blue and suffering from exposure. The pain in her arm was held at bay by drugs, but it was nothing compared to the muddled merry go round of thoughts that whirled in her brain.
She laboriously texted Stacey with a list of things she needed from Ivy Lodge. It was hard to hold her phone and type one-handed but this physician was going to have to heal herself. There was no reply, but next day Stacey barged in bearing Arnica, Symphitum, (made from comfrey aka ‘knitbone’ which has been used for centuries), her constitutional remedy, a freshly extinguished Lambert and Butler, and a sulky expression resulting from this last being enforced by staff.
‘This place is a fkn prison. Aa remember havin wor Noosh in the maternity wing. Fkn nazi guards. Aalways on yer case if yer light a fag. Aa mean, they
’d not have a job if we all gave up smoking and drinking, would they? Ungrateful bastards. Here’s aal yer new age crap.’ She dumped the remedies on the locker. ‘Eee Erica, yer hair looks like something oot of a shower drain. Yer know, they pump shite and aal sorts into the sea.’
Great. Erica dropped some Arnica tablets onto her tongue. Her throat still burned from the salt water and her voice was almost gone so she texted her thanks, and Stacey automatically texted her back. ‘S’OK. Lol.’
‘Oh Aa nearly forgot.’ Stacey pulled a large box of expensive chocolates out of a carrier bag. ‘Aa browt these for yer. Course, ye’ll not get much exercise in here. Very fattenin, hospital scran.’ She held the box expectantly over Erica like an alien spacecraft about to land.
Erica was startled at this generosity. But Stacey was right. She could easily put weight on while helpless and out of action. She shook her head at the chocolates, and texted ‘Thx a mill. u keep em.’
‘Oh, right. Just for ye, Aa will. And yer’ll be glad to know, since you’ve got nee voice, Aa’m on the case as yer intern. Gary’s waiting for iz outside and Aa’m tellin yer story to him. As yer spokesperson like. It’s nee bother, no need to thank iz!’
She swept out with the chocolates back in the bag, fag in mouth waiting to be lit at the first opportunity. Outside in the main ward there was some kind of uproar going on.
A nurse popped in to check on her obs and said, ‘Oh, that noise is poor Mrs M, she just woke up from a nap to find someone’s nicked her posh chocs right off her locker top. She’s going postal. She probably ate them and forgot, poor old dear.’ Yes, because patients, especially older women, were by definition stupid, vague, demented... ‘I mean, who’d do such a thing! In a hospital!’
Erica felt better once she’d made some effort to take control, having more faith in her own remedies than antibiotics. Better still when her mother had washed her hair. In her privileged little room, she was alone most of the time except during doctor’s rounds or the meds trolley or what were laughingly called meals.
She’d assumed with things the way they are with the NHS that she’d be patched up and slung out, and that would have suited her fine. She could recover much better at home. But Jamie arranged for her to be kept in for a few days, the combination of exposure, fracture and stress making her vulnerable. She suspected Will wanted to keep her out of the action too.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Will also wanted Erica kept in hospital though the security was minimal, anyone could stroll in at any time and he didn’t have the manpower or sufficient reason to have her actually guarded. Seemingly Archer was harmless enough for now, but the Operator killings put anyone believed to have evidence at risk. And they weren’t sure yet exactly what Archer’s involvement was as the medics hadn’t let the police interrogate him. It had been touch and go if he’d live, though he was already responding to treatment better than they’d hoped.
Superintendent ‘Golden Boy’ George spluttered cherry scone crumbs. ‘You’ve got not just one Operator, but two, lad, you’re spoilt rotten! Archer and Anderson, both under wraps and on bedpans! They’ll both keep till we can sort out who mutilated who. We’re looking very good in the media just now. ‘Heroic officer leaps into foaming briny to save suspect and victim.’ But you’ll be busy waiting for Archer to talk, won’t you Will, and of course you’ll be wanting to keep an unofficial eye on Erica Bruce, just in case, so don’t worry, I’ll handle all the press conferences for you.’ And nab any credit going.
Will visited Erica as soon as Jamie would allow. His dark, clever face was drawn and scowling. Bloody little jumped up doctor! It irked Will having to ask permission from the bloke Erica was shagging. Huh. He’d like to see Jamie diving into a raging ocean to save her. Prescribing antibiotics was the most he’d manage.
Erica had been interviewing nurses and anyone else she could get at about health problems and techniques for the health page using her voice recorder. It was a mercy that, and her phone, hadn’t ended up in the sea. Her voice was a lot better but she felt awkward talking to Will in a nightie. Strange, considering their past intimacy. But then she’d never worn nighties. Worse, her hair, finally washed of North Sea gunge, salt and seaweed, was still wet. She’d texted Stacey to bring the hairdryer she kept at Ivy Lodge for straight-from-swimming drying. In the meantime she was annoyed to be seen, plain, pale and pathetic and with her hair dark, wet, dragged back into a bun.
‘Wow you look different. Without your hair. I’d forgotten... erm I mean I’d hardly have recognised you. How are you?’ Will put a plastic bag of grapes on her locker. Typical. Grapes are full of sugar, you goon.
‘Thanks. Fine. How’s Archer?’ She was still very husky.
‘Improving. Still seems weak. We found the catapult on his bedroom windowsill.’
‘So I was right about that. Oh good.’
‘Though in itself it’s not evidence he used it on Kingston. The wallop with the stone effectively disguised any initial fracture caused by a golf ball. There’s only his partial confession to you with no witnesses, in a state of distress, and you’ve both had major trauma since, or so his legal team will say. I’ll try and get a statement from him as soon as they’ll let me. I’ll try tomorrow.’
He fiddled with the things on the top of the locker, almost knocking over a jug of water. He mopped up the spills with angry dabs and a tissue, not looking at her. Erica wasn’t looking at him. If he was waiting for her to thank him for saving her life, he could do one. SHE was saving Archer’s life and Will helped her with that. She wasn’t giving Will the satisfaction and future gloating rights of being the knight in shining, or in this case soggy, armour. Not again.
He visibly steeled himself. ‘Erica, I have to say it was quite something, you jumping into the sea after him, you could easily have drowned. You should have drowned. There was no way you’d have got to any kind of land unless someone saw you, it was a mad thing to do. I know you’re a good swimmer, and you’ve trained in life-saving, but in those waves, with your arm, well, I have to say Erica, I’m really impressed. It took real balls.’
With a massive effort, just this once she didn’t say ‘Ovaries.’
‘Thanks Will.’ She was glad he’d said it first. ‘And thanks for helping me. To save Archer I mean. I just couldn’t not do it. I didn’t even want to! And I’m not sure I did him any favours. What’s he going to face if he does get better?’
‘Prison probably.’
‘And he’ll never achieve his dream to join Wydsand Club. It meant everything to him, shallow as it sounds.’
‘I know Erica, but he can’t expect to get away with it. A good lawyer might be able to get some sympathy for an impulsive act with a catapult, but the killings, the mutilations...’ If they could prove any of them. ‘...quite apart from breaking your arm. He’s not going to get into any Golf Club with that record!’
‘That bastard Kingston. He’s hurt so many people. A man left with serious head injuries. Tessa’s years of pain, injury and fear. His own horrible death. And what of Chambers, and Gupta? And Anderson? And their families. And Archer’s life ruined. He’s got nothing left to lose now.’
‘Well we don’t know all of what happened yet, and how much of it was down to Kingston. And as for Tessa...’
‘Will, you must believe by now she was abused by Kingston! After all you’ve learned about him! Surely now you can see she was the innocent victim here. Oh my god, you just can’t bear to be wrong can you?’
‘And you can’t bear not to be right. Not to be in charge of how we all think...’
‘You’re accusing ME of being controlling? Pot, kettle...’
‘We’re both control freaks. Let’s face it. Look, I’m sorry. I came to visit you not yell at you when you’re not well.’
‘I can take anything you dish out Will Bennett, well or not.’ Erica felt hot, and dizzy, and Will saw to his alarm that she’d gone an odd colour. He was appalled at himself.
‘Oh my god I’m
sorry, you look as if you’re about to faint. Here, have some water.’
He began to pour out a glass, when Erica gasped, her eyes wide.
‘Oh god, what have I done, oh god, here darling, just lie back and I’ll get the nurse...’
‘Bastard!’
‘Look I’m sorry...’
‘Not you, Kingston! Come back here, listen. I’m fine... sod the water. Listen for once. At the swimming pool one day this guy suddenly fainted... he was watching his kid have a lesson. It was hot and steamy... The lifeguard came over and asked if he was OK and the guy whispered to him. The fainting guy was so embarrassed... the lifeguard shouted right across the pool to his colleague, ‘It’s all right, he had a vasectomy today!’ Quite funny really...’
‘OK nice story. Maybe you’re on too much medication?’
‘Will you listen! I heard two nurses talking. Kingston fainted at work, because he’d had a minor op. Unusual because he never showed weakness.’
‘Well it could have been anything. A mole removed.’
‘Crap! Nobody’d faint because of a mole. But if he’d had a vasectomy, imagine the sadism! Torturing his wife for failing to get pregnant, when all the time he was the one who... He wouldn’t want a baby. Too much competition for him. Sick, sick bastard!’
‘Well he’s dead now anyway. Calm down Erica. Get some rest. I can come back tomorrow to go over your official statement.’ And he was gone.
Wait, what did he call me? Darling? Patronising git. Erica felt twitchy and confined, so she tried to clear her thinking with some exercises on the bed, crunches and leg lifts mainly. Then she went off to visit a lovely lady in a nearby room who had pelvic fractures and was in traction. One of the nurses, no doubt fed up with Erica, had suggested she go and talk to her. She certainly needed someone to talk to, and for her, as for all patients, the days passed slowly and the nights seemed endless hours of pain, discomfort, and boredom.