by Chris Ryan
With another awful cry she sprang offthe bed, knocked the doctor spinning, rushed at me and flung her arms round my neck. When I hugged her to me she felt like a sackful of bones.
Hardly had we come together when she went slack in my arms and started sinking to the floor.
'She's fainted again,' said the doctor calmly. 'She's done that twice already. Put her on the bed.'
I did as he said and stood back, breathless with dismay, and with a dreadful fear that the ordeal had sent her mad.
'What's the matter with her?' I gasped.
'Delayed shock. She'll be all right, but she's having a rough ride for the moment.'
I glanced at the doctor and saw he was only about my age, ruddy and fit-looking. He gave me a sympathetic look and explained, 'When she arrived she was on a terrific high. But it only lasted about quarter of an hour.
She was laughing and joking all over the place, then
suddenly she went right down. And this is the result.'
'What's the answer?'
'The best thing is to sedate her for twenty-four hours.'
'Can't I take her home?'
'Not really - it could be dangerous. She might become violent or do something crazy. She ought to remain under observation. Besides, Special Branch want to interview her as soon as she's stable.'
'You don't think her mind's impaired?'
'Oh, no. Give her time and she'll be fine.'
'Where's Tim?'
'A doctor's looking at his eye. He got a blow on it some days ago.'
'Is he as bad as this - mentally, I mean?'
'Not as bad. Of course, I don't know what he's like normally, but he seems very withdrawn. There - she's coming round now.'
Tracy stirred and opened her eyes. I dragged a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, holding her hand, my face close to hers.
'It's OK, Trace,' I said gently. 'It's me, Geordie.'
She turned her head and looked at me, but not with any affection. On the contrary, she gave me a hard stare, then turned away again, as if she equated me with the enemy and wanted nothing to do with me. She closed her eyes tight and began to gasp and shake. A shudder coursed down her body, head to toe, so that her whole body frame began quivering on the bed. I realised that the devils were coming out of her, but the violence of it was dreadful to see. Then out burst another terrifying hoarse roar, a noise so ugly I couldn't-believe she was making it.
I held on to her hand tighter, feeling my own teals coming, until gradually she quietened. I heard the door close behind me and turned and blinked at it. The doctor had gone. I held on, letting time pass.
The doctor was right. This wasn't something that I could handle. At least Tracy's fingers were clutching mine. Perhaps some contact was getting through.
Presently her shakes subsided completely. I stroked her gaunt cheek with the back of my hand and whispered, 'Stop worrying, Trace. You're safe now. It's all over.'
At last she turned to look at me properly and said, 'Where were you, Geordie? Why did you take so long to come?'
'Sweetheart, I was trying. I was nearly killing myself trying to find you. You can't imagine what's been happening. As soon as you've had a rest, I'll tell you.'
She kept on looking at me, and in her eyes I caught a glimpse of the person I loved.
'Listen,' I said. 'Are you all right? I mean, did they
. . . they didn't.., molest you?'
She shook her head slowly.
'Is the baby OK?'
For a terrible moment she stared at me silently, her eyes like stones. Then, very low, she muttered, 'No. I lost it.'
'Oh Jesus!' I grabbed her hand, but not quickly enough. Again she was off into those dreadful animal roars, doubling her knees up to her chest and writhing all over the bed. To stop her falling off and hurting herself I got her by the shoulders and held her down until the shudders died away and she fell back exhausted, the tears pouring down her cheeks.
When I leant forward and kissed her on the temple, she gave a wan smile and said, 'You need a shave.'
Somebody knocked on the door. The fair-haired nurse came in carrying a plastic beaker in one hand, a shallow dish in the other.
'Take these, dear,' she said. 'They'll make you feel better.'
Tracy looked at me in a questioning way, so I nodded, and watched her swallow the two white tablets. Then I said, 'Back in a minute,' and followed the nurse into the corridor. I was meaning to ask the matron how long Tracy would have to stay in when I saw another nurse coming towards me, holding the hand of a small, fair-haired boy.
'Tim!' I let his name out louder than I had meant to, and my voice echoed down the passage. As the pair approached I rushed forward, bent down and scooped him up in my arms. But at the very moment I touched him, I felt his body go rigid inside the grey track suit, and when I went to kiss him on the cheek he twisted his head away.
Then he said, loud and clear, in a passable Belfast accent, 'Yer fucking wee murderer, yer.'
The nurse took a step backwards. Her mouth fell open, and her face coloured to the roots of her hair. As for me, I was so amazed I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, curse, smack Tim or what. All'I could do was hold him tight and take a deep breath.
'It's those filthy people who've been keeping him,' I said, by way of excuse and explanation. 'They've had a month to brainwash him.'
'That's right,' the nurse replied, recovering her composure. 'It'll wear offsoon enough.'
'What about his eye?' Even with Tim's head twisted away I could see that his right eye was swollen and discoloured.
'It'll go down in a day or two,' the nurse replied. 'It seems he got a belt from the woman in charge of him.
But Dr
Best has had a look at it and apparently there's no damage to the eye itself.'
'Hear that, Tim?' I hefted him up and down. 'You're all right. Come on, now. You've got to help me look after Tracy.'
Still he wouldn't face me, and in desperation I suddenly remembered Billy, his teddy bear. 'Tell you what,' I said. 'We've got to go and find Billy. He's at home, and he's really been missing you.'
Even that produced no reaction. I turned back to the nurse and said, 'Thanks. I'll take him now,' and I carried him back into Tracy's room, stiffas a board. When I put him down on the floor, he stood like a zombie, not moving.
At least Tracy seemed more relaxed. The sedative was taking immediate effect, and some of the strain had gone out of her face. But as I thumped down on the bedside chair I reflected bitterly on how different this was from the homecoming I'd imagined. Over the past four weeks, whenever I had allowed my hopes to rise a degree or two, I'd seen us all back at the cottage, in high summer, out in the garden, a happy family, doing our own things.
Now, in this bleak hospital room, I felt incredibly exhausted. I looked at the frozen boy and the horizontal woman, and thought, 'It isn't one life that I've got to rebuild. It's three.'