I can feel her warm breath gentle against the skin on my neck. It’s comforting to know she’s breathing. Maybe her mind has gone into shut-down mode. The rich crimson liquid dripping down her face has slowed to a mere trickle but her clothes are stained with the blood from over her eye.
Around me I can hear the police questioning Angus, and an ambulance soon rolls to a stop behind the police car.
An ambulance officer looks over at me cradling Holly, then the drunk out cold on the ground.
He quickly comes over to me, and squats down beside us.
“What happened?” he questions me.
“That beast put his hands on her. He smashed her head into the side of her car,” I tell him, though I can feel my jaw tighten as I look over to the unconscious man.
“I’ll get the stretcher.” The young paramedic stands and goes to the back of the ambulance were he gets a stretcher bed and wheels it over toward me.
He doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry, and it’s pissing me off that he’s taking his time.
The other paramedic comes over and they both try to lift Holly from my arms. “I will do it,” I say, shooing them away.
I stand, still cradling her, and place her on the very uncomfortable-looking bed. They strap her in and begin wheeling her to the back of the ambulance. Holding her hand, gently stroking the skin, I walk with them toward the ambulance.
“Are you her partner?” one of them asks me.
“Non,” I respond.
“You won’t be able to come with us.”
“Merde! Of course I can.” I can feel my eyebrows draw together as my jaw clenches and my shoulders stiffen.
“Um…” He looks at me, then over at his co-worker. “I’m sorry, but you can’t.”
“Fils de salope! I will not let her go alone. When she wakes she will need someone she knows,” I almost yell.
“What’s the deal, man?” the paramedic asks, looking between the two of us.
“There is no ‘deal’. I am coming, end of discussion.” I can hear my voice become more passionate, more threatening toward him. And so do the police as one of them starts to walk over to us.
“Let them do their job. If you want, go to the hospital to see her, but you’re not helping her acting like this,” he says as he stands beside me.
“Non, I must go too.”
“Look,” he starts as his voice lowers, to a soothing more serene tone. “I understand you probably like her, and you want to look after her –”
“Non, I do not like her,” I say interrupting him.
“Huh, really? Well then, she’s not your concern.”
We stand off for a few seconds, but I retreat and let her hand go.
I do not like her. She is an imbécile, just an employee at the restaurant. A woman who gets under my skin by trying to challenge me, nothing more.
“Pierre,” Angus calls me, snapping me out of the mental turmoil. “Let them do their job. I need to call her family.”
The next few minutes fly by quickly and the drunk guy is also wheeled away on a stretcher bed from another ambulance. His wrist is handcuffed to the bed, and the ambulances leave rapidly. The police car stays behind so the officers can to talk to me.
Angus disappears inside and I’ve been left in a whirlwind as I look down at my blood-covered clothes. There’s a card thrust into my hands, and the cop’s asking me questions, trying to ascertain exactly what happened.
It takes what seems like forever, and after many useless questions, the cops finally leave.
I’m free to go to the hospital and make sure Holly is okay.
Without stopping, I turn and run for my car. My keys are already out of my pocket and in my hand.
The hospital isn’t too far from the restaurant, around fifteen minutes, and when I get there the car park is almost empty. Parking out in the front, I run into the emergency department asking for Holly.
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family is permitted to go back into emergency. You’re more than welcome to wait and when they arrive I can ask them to come and see you.”
I grunt at the triage nurse, roll my eyes and go slump in an uncomfortable chair in the fairly quiet waiting room.
As I sit in the antiseptic-smelling high-traffic area, I can’t help but let my mind roll back to a time when hospitals were as routine to me as brushing my teeth.
The sounds, the smells, the feelings – all of them come flooding back to me.
“I’ll be alright,” Eva would say as she looked up from beneath her thick lashes and smiled at me. “It’s a necessary evil to make me better, to make me stronger. We’ll get through it.” Eva’s fingers would tighten around mine, as she’d lay her head on my shoulder.
I’d cradle her, and kiss her forehead, whispering how proud I was of her for her strength, and her ability to embrace the positive. I’d drink her confidence up, her pure capability to remain so focussed on becoming better and stronger. Not just for her, but for me, and the possibilities of our future.
Eva’s lips were always warm and inviting, begging to be kissed and cherished. She’d offer that perfect, pink suppleness to me, and I’d always be distracted by the flawless shape of them before I’d worship them and her. She always wanted more kisses when she was getting treatment. She wanted me to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
But nothing was okay.
Nothing was perfect.
Except the few years we had together.
“Are you here to see my mummy?” I hear a little girl ask as she taps my shoulder, breaking me out of my memories of Eva.
Looking to my right, a little brown-haired girl with sleepy eyes and holding a teddy, has asked the question.
“I don’t know who you are,” I say as I lean away from the child.
“Are you here to see my mummy? I heard the nurse tell Nanna you were waiting for my mummy.”
I look over to where the child has pointed, and there’s an older lady with full grey hair talking to the triage nurse.
My eyes leave the older lady and go back to the little girl standing beside me. I can’t help but study her features. She has the same nose and eye shape as Holly, and she’s quite brisk in the way she talks. What child would approach an adult and ask them anything?
“You’re the man Mummy talks to Nanna about.”
I feel my eyebrows knit together and my shoulders come up in a defensive reflex. “What do you mean?” I ask as I straighten in the uncomfortable chair.
“Mummy said you’re not very nice, but you look okay to me.”
I can’t help it, a laugh rips through me. “Maybe your mummy is right.”
“Nah, I think you’re okay.”
“Emma,” the older lady calls to her.
“I gotta go. Nanna’s calling me.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
Emma turns and walks to her grandmother. The older lady eyes me up, then down. There’s a scowl on her face, as her narrowed eyes take me in and she makes her assessment of me.
Slowly she walks toward me, her granddaughter safely tucked under her arm, her face hard. “You’re Pierre?” she asks when she is standing a few feet from where I’m sitting.
I stand and offer her my hand to shake. “Oui, madame.”
She looks at my offered hand and tucks Emma further into her side. “You’re the man causing my daughter-in-law all the problems at work?”
Daughter-in-law? She’s married.
I kissed a married woman?
Putain de merde!
That kiss, the incredible kiss I got lost in, the soft kiss I wanted to last forever, the all-consuming kiss like I used to give to Eva.
“I am…” Sorry doesn’t seem to be enough. “I am…” A shiver runs down my body, a shroud of darkness falling over me as my throat begins to tighten. “My sincere apologies,” I say as I take a step away from her.
“Pierre,” she says, as her hand whips out to rest on my shoulder.
“Non, non,
non. I will leave now that you are here.” I take another step away, turn and flee, escaping from the situation, from Holly’s daughter’s beautiful big brown eyes, and from the judgement of a woman whose daughter-in-law I kissed.
“Pierre,” I hear her shout after me.
But the judgement I fear most is not in the innocent eyes of the people around me, it’s what I hold inside of me.
I’ve disappointed everyone.
But most of all, I hate to think what Eva thinks of me and the despicable act I’ve committed.
As I get into my car, the one thing I know will wash all those feelings away is a bottle.
ELEVEN
Holly
“Mummy, can you wake up now?”
My head’s swimming, clouded by heaviness as I try and focus on the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard. I’m trying to fight the veil encompassing my mind. I think I scream as loud as I can, trying to lift the blanket and let my little girl know I’m okay. But I remain silent and immobile.
“Mummy, are you alright?” she asks as I feel her gentle, warm hand grasp mine.
“Emma, I think we need to let Mummy rest. We’ll stay here with her, but you need to be quiet so she can get better,” Bronwyn softly whispers.
NO! I try to scream, yell, to make as much noise as I can. I want Emma to keep talking to me, to pull my mind back to reality, to help me snap out of the fog that has a hold on me.
“Mummy, I liked our picnic. When you wake up, can we have another one?”
“Shhhh, Emma. You need to let Mumma sleep.”
“I talked with that man you work with, too. He’s funny. I like him. I like the way he talks. That’s how they speak where they come from.”
“Emma,” Bronwyn’s voice holds a tone of warning.
“But I think he’s nice. Can he come with us to our next picnic? I think he’ll like the jumping pillow.”
“Emma,” Bronwyn now bites toward her, clipped and short.
“It’s okay, Nanna. Mummy likes it when I talk.”
“She needs to rest.”
“She doesn’t. She needs us here so she can wake up. I think she’s been waiting for us to get here. You should talk to her too, Nanna,” Emma innocently says. She’s not purposely trying to defy Bronwyn. It’s just in Emma’s nature to talk.
“How about you talk to her for a few minutes, then I’ll take you to get a hot chocolate?”
“Okay. Mummy, I think you should wake up now, because I want you to come home with us.” She grips my hand a little harder, but her voice is still so light and sweet.
The light begins to disappear and Emma’s voice becomes muted. The cloak of darkness closes firmly over my consciousness and forcefully pulls me back to a place I don’t want to go.
“Holly,” a thick French accent gently whispers. Warm fingers tangle around mine, and I can feel the heat of tender fingers stroking the skin on the back of my hand.
“Merde! I did not want to talk to you like this. I waited outside the hospital in my car until I saw your little girl and your mother-in-law leave.” His French is tight and somewhat strangled.
“Pierre,” I try and say, though it doesn’t sound like the noise is loud enough for him to hear.
“Mon chéri, I am sorry. I should not have kissed you when I did. I should not have been aggressive with you, and taken your mouth like you belong to me, non. But you reminded me of a time I wish I could have again. A moment when I forgot all about my broken heart, and wanted to fight for more. Wanted to hold a beautiful femme and feel something more than the nothing which has been filling me for so long. Oui, you came into my kitchen and told me of the man, non, the beast, who dared put his hands on you, and it reminded me of a time with Eva.”
I’m not sure what happens. Maybe the black drags me under, or maybe Pierre stops talking. Chills touch me, the warmth caressing my hand ceases.
“Mummy,” I hear again.
This time though, I’m able to open my eyes. The room is dimly lit, a strong, overpowering antiseptic smell assaults my nose.
I turn my head to the right and see the stand where a bag of clear liquid hangs, with a tube attached to it.
“Mummy,” I hear again.
When I slowly turn my head to the left, my little peanut is looking at me with the biggest, toothiest smile.
“Emma,” I say, my voice guttural and my throat dry. I try and swallow, but the lack of moisture makes it more difficult.
“You’re awake,” she exclaims, and launches herself at me. Emma’s little body collides with mine, and she’s hugging me tightly. “I knew you just needed me to talk to you so you’d wake up. I told Nanna, but she kept telling me to be quiet. I didn’t want to be quiet, Mummy. I love you.”
I can’t help but hug her close to my body. Her hair smells like the floral conditioner she uses; her little body is pressed lovingly against mine.
“I love you too, Peanut,” I manage to say. It feels nice. To have the most important person in my arms, and to know I’m okay and can hold her and tell her how much I love her.
As Emma and I lay together, the door swings open and Bronwyn comes in, holding a take-away cup.
“Holly, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asks as soon as she assess the room and notices I’m awake.
I take a few seconds to get my head around it all, and realise my head is actually thumping from a dull pain. I lift my right hand, and notice I have a cannula. When I bring my hand to my forehead, I wince in pain, but can feel a small bandage.
“How many days have I been in here?” I ask as I gingerly run my hand over my bruised and bandaged forehead.
Bronwyn presses the buzzer then sits on the right side of me, where there’s an empty chair.
“It’s just after five in the afternoon. You came in early this morning. Do you remember what happened?”
“Unfortunately.” I pause for a moment, stroking Emma’s hair as she snuggles closer to me. “Where’s Pierre?” I ask looking at Bronwyn.
“He’s funny. I like him, Mummy.”
I look down at Emma, who’s now sitting up on the bed and is holding my hand. “How do you know?”
“He was in the waiting room when Nanna and I came here. I talked to him. Can he come on a picnic with us?”
“I’m not sure about that, Peanut. He may not want to come, and it may not be a good idea.”
“But I think he wants to, so why can’t we just ask him?” Emma says, her big chocolate eyes gazing at me. Her innocence is beautiful, so warming and childlike. Exactly how she is.
“We’ll see,” I answer as I look to Bronwyn for some help.
Just as Bronwyn stands, the door opens and a nurse in uniform comes in.
“I’m Rebecca and I’m your nurse tonight. How are you feeling, Mrs. Walker?” she asks as she goes to the foot of the bed and lifts the observation chart out of its holder.
“I’m alright.”
Bronwyn walks around to the other side and holds her hand out for Emma to hop off the bed.
“Any dizziness, headaches, nausea? The doctor will be in soon to check you over.”
“Just a headache, and a pain in my forehead.”
“There was a nasty cut on your forehead, but it didn’t need to be stitched, just glued together.”
I nod at her, and she smiles warmly at me. Rebecca is young and pretty, but calm and caring too.
“Do you need anything while I’m here? Would you like me to help you use the bathroom?”
“No I’m okay. But I could do with something to drink.”
“As soon as the doctor comes in and gives the go-ahead, I’ll bring you some water and some food.”
“Thank you,” I say and look toward her, then Bronwyn.
“Hey, Emma, how are you doing?” she asks my daughter.
Emma’s eyes light up and she beams a huge smile at the nurse. It’s obvious Emma’s been chatting with her too.
“I’m good, but I’m bored.”
“Maybe I can take you and
see if I can find you some pencils and paper?” Rebecca looks at me, waiting to see if I’ll give her my permission.
With a small nod and a smile, and Emma excitedly talking rapidly, Rebecca leads her out of the room.
When the door closes, I turn to Bronwyn. “Why was Pierre here?”
“How do you know he was here?”
“He came into the room, he was talking to me.”
“What? He did?” she asks. Her eyebrows knit tightly together in a frown and her lips curve downward.
“What happened?” I say as I sit up in bed.
Bronwyn walks back around and sits in the chair to my right. “When Angus called me at home, he said he got our number through your emergency contact form at work. Anyway, when we got here, Emma saw a man sitting in the waiting area, covered in blood and asked him if he was here to see you.”
“She did?” I smile, knowing her brazen personality is exactly like mine.
“She did. She told him he’s not as mean as you say he is.”
“Oh my goodness. Please tell me she didn’t.” I feel my cheeks pink up as I lower my eyes.
“She did. When I went to talk to him, he barely stayed for a moment before he fled. I’ve never seen a man move so fast,” Bronwyn chuckles.
“He came in here, and was talking to me. I don’t remember all of it, but he did say something about being sorry he kissed me.”
“He kissed you?” Bronwyn shrills as her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Yeah, he did. Tonight…or I should say, last night – or whenever.” I try and grasp the time frame I’ve missed out on.
A long moment of quiet stretches out between us.
I’m trying to recall what Pierre said, and I’m not sure what Bronwyn is thinking, though she does have a devious curve to her lips.
“What?” I ask as I try to read her expression.
“You don’t find it slightly interesting that a man like Pierre kissed you, then beat the man who tried to assault you, fled when I tried to speak to him, and then snuck in here to be with you?”
“I don’t know what to think. He was there to help me,” I trail off, not really wanting to talk to her about the kiss or how he called me Eva and said he loves me – ehh – loves her.
Monster Chef Page 6