by Fay Keenan
‘Um, yes, I mean, I don’t know, actually. My friend came in by air ambulance earlier this afternoon.’ Florence wondered if she should mention that Sam had been piloting the air ambulance, but since he’d driven back to the hospital after flying the helicopter back to base, it didn’t seem relevant. He was a worried relative now, not a pilot.
‘Right. Well let’s just see if we can find your friend’s details.’ He walked her over to the receptionist at the main desk, and then, as she thanked him, smiled and walked away.
The receptionist looked up from her screen and asked for a few details.
‘Aidan,’ Florence said. ‘His name’s Aidan Ellis.’
‘Ah yes, I’ve got him. And you are?’
‘A friend. Well, and his next-door neighbour, actually.’
‘Bear with me,’ she nodded and tapped a few keys. ‘He’s on floor eight, ward four.’
‘Thanks.’ Hoping that Sam would be by his brother’s side, Florence hurried back across the foyer, then, deciding that the lifts were too busy, she started climbing up the stairs. Thankfully, she was in quite good shape, and she was soon up on the eighth floor. As she pushed open the double doors to the ward hallway that housed the lifts, she saw a figure over by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the road outside. Clad still in his SAA uniform, he had one hand over his eyes as the newly falling icy rain splattered the glass outside. He had, obviously, just dropped everything when he’d landed back at Norton Magna and driven straight up to Bristol.
‘Sam?’ Florence said softly. ‘Are you OK? Is Aidan OK?’
Sam’s head jerked up and he dropped his hand limply to his side as he turned around. For a minute he seemed to be confused as to why Florence was standing there, but then he remembered. ‘You got my message?’
‘Yes. What on earth happened?’ She handed him the backpack that she’d filled with Aidan’s things. ‘I think I got everything he might need. I virtually emptied the medical cabinet!’ She smiled weakly.
‘Thanks,’ Sam said. ‘I wasn’t really thinking when I put down at base, as you can see.’ He gestured to his flight overalls.
‘So why are we here, Sam?’ Florence asked.
They began to walk to the ward. Florence kept pace easily with Sam, whose back was ramrod straight, the tension obvious in his frame.
‘Aidan decided to take himself off for a late walk on Cheddar Gorge this afternoon,’ Sam said. ‘He tripped in the bad light, knocked himself out and got hypothermia.’
‘Christ!’ Florence’s hand flew to her mouth, but she didn’t have time to stop walking. ‘And you got the callout.’
‘Right.’
‘Sam… stop.’ Florence reached out and pulled Sam’s elbow to arrest his progress to the ward. ‘Can we talk about this?’
Pausing, Sam looked down at her, but his face, for the moment, gave nothing away. It was a careful mask of professionalism. Florence got the feeling that there was a lot going on underneath, though, if only she could get through the layers.
‘Do you mind if we don’t? Not just now,’ Sam said. ‘Let’s just see him, find out when he’s going to come home and maybe talk when we get back?’
‘OK,’ Florence replied.
They walked onto the ward and immediately saw Aidan, looking as though he was asleep, clad in a hospital-issue gown. As they approached his bed, though, he opened his eyes.
‘Hey,’ he croaked. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
Florence gave the best smile she could, despite her worries. Aidan’s characteristic cheeky glint in the eyes was, blessedly, in place, but she noticed his hands were a little shaky as he reached for the tumbler of water on the cabinet by his bed.
‘Let me get that,’ she said, hurrying to fill it up from the jug. Since Sam still hadn’t said anything, she asked the obvious next question. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Not too bad,’ Aidan replied. ‘Although my head’s pounding. Must have taken quite a knock on the rocks when I went down.’
‘You’re lucky someone found you,’ Florence reached forward and squeezed his hand. ‘In this weather, it was a hell of a risk to take going up there.’
‘It wasn’t too bad when I left home,’ Aidan said. ‘Clear enough to ride the motorbike up there, anyway.’ He sipped from the tumbler Florence had passed him. ‘The weather changed while I was at the top. Stupidly, I only had my old bike jacket on – I didn’t bother with the trousers and just had my jeans. When the light started to fail, I lost my bearings and then slipped on the rocks about halfway across the top.’ He shook his head, and then winced as the motion obviously hurt. ‘That’s all I remember until I came round shortly after I got here.’
Florence glanced at Sam’s face as Aidan was speaking; she was startled at how extraordinarily bleak he looked. She couldn’t fathom the expression at all. He seemed still to be, mentally, at the top of Cheddar Gorge. His hands were clenched at his sides, as if he was trying to keep everything rigidly under control.
‘I brought you some stuff,’ Florence said, turning her attention back to Aidan. ‘Sam called me when he realised he’d shot up here without stopping at home.’
‘You’re a star,’ Aidan said, squeezing Florence’s hand where it still lay in his. Disentangling himself at last, he opened the bag Sam had put on the bed and burst out laughing as he saw the T-shirt she’d chosen. ‘This must have got into my drawers by mistake,’ he said as he held it up; it had the iconic Star Wars logo on it. ‘Sam uses this to sleep in.’
‘Sorry,’ Florence laughed too, but a little nervously. Sam was still silent next to her. She had the unsettling feeling that he was trying to bite back so much he wanted to say to his brother, and that her presence at Aidan’s bedside was the only thing keeping him from saying it. ‘There’s a warm jumper in there, too, though, so at least you can hide the T-shirt under it.’ She hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed Aidan’s forehead on the side without the injury. ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’
‘I will,’ Aidan suddenly looked a whole lot more serious. ‘Look, Florence, I really am sorry my own fuckwitted behaviour dragged you to hospital. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.’
‘I know,’ Florence said softly, her face still close to his. ‘What are friends for?’
‘Shit,’ Aidan groaned as he sank back against the pillows again.
‘What is it? Do you need some more painkillers?’ Florence was instantly alert.
‘No,’ Aidan replied. ‘Nothing like that. It’s just that I was supposed to be meeting Tom in the pub later. And I guess I must have lost my phone when I fell, so I can’t text him and tell him I won’t be there.’ He looked beseechingly at Florence. ‘Can you call him and tell him I won’t make it? They’ve already told me I won’t be discharged until tomorrow morning.’
‘Of course I can,’ Florence said. ‘Do you want me to tell him why?’
Aidan hesitated. ‘Yes. Probably should. He’ll end up hearing through the town grapevine anyway, so you might as well be honest.’
‘OK.’ There was a perceptible pause between them. Florence turned from Aidan to Sam. ‘I’ll leave you two to it, then.’
‘I’ll come back with you,’ Sam said, at last. His face gave nothing away now, but Florence wasn’t fooled for a minute. ‘If there’s nothing else you need?’ He glanced at his brother, and Florence saw something pass between them as their eyes locked. ‘Get them to call me when you know what time you’re getting out of here,’ Sam said, by way of parting. ‘I’ll be sure to come and pick you up. Like always.’
Aidan nodded. ‘Thanks, bro.’
Without another word, Sam turned away from the bed and strode from the ward. Throwing an apologetic glance at Aidan, Florence hurried after him.
‘Thanks for coming up here,’ Sam said as they headed back down the flights of stairs to the foyer. ‘I know he appreciates it, and so do I.’
Florence paused as they reached the busy entrance hall of the hospital. ‘Are y
ou going to be all right to drive home?’
A mixture of expressions flickered over Sam’s face before he responded with an unconvincingly neutral ‘Of course.’
‘OK,’ Florence said, not knowing quite what else to say. She was anxious to get back on the road in case the weather turned freezing. The main roads were clear from here to Willowbury, but a hard freeze would make it incredibly dangerous to drive. As she looked at Sam, trying to think about how to say goodbye, it was as if Sam’s shutters were coming down right before her eyes.
‘Take care,’ Sam said.
Feeling more than a little unsettled, Florence walked towards her car, calling Tom as she crossed the car park to relay Aidan’s message before heading home.
36
Despite her qualms about the weather, Florence made it back to Bay Tree Terrace in good time, and, realising that she’d skipped lunch and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, she was just making herself a slice of toast and a cup of coffee when there was a rap at her front door. Abandoning the toast, with one tantalising bite taken out of it, she hurried through to the hall and opened the door. It was still snowing, and her heart skipped a beat for a million reasons when she saw Sam standing on the other side of it. Despite the literal hop from his door to hers, snowflakes had settled in his hair, and his blue eyes looked as troubled as the sky above.
‘Come in,’ she said softly.
Without a word, he did as she told him.
‘It’s been a hell of a few hours,’ Florence said as they headed back through to the kitchen. ‘Have you eaten?’
Sam shook his head. Florence passed him the other half of the toast she’d made, and poured him a cup of coffee that had brewed nicely in the cafetière. He took a grateful bite before, somewhat awkwardly, taking off his coat and slinging it on the back of one of her pine kitchen chairs.
‘How are you?’ Florence said gently. She still couldn’t fathom what had happened by Aidan’s bedside; the interplay between the brothers had baffled as much as worried her.
‘I’m all right,’ Sam said as sat down.
Realising that she probably wasn’t going to get Sam to do a big confession right off the bat, she tried another tack. ‘So, what really happened?’ Florence took one of the cups of coffee, and felt the jolt of electricity as her fingertips brushed Sam’s as he reached for his.
Sam took a sip of his coffee, then winced when he realised how hot it was. ‘As you know, he decided to go for a hike on Cheddar Gorge,’ he said. ‘He often goes up there, up Jacob’s Ladder and then across the top. I guess he felt he needed the fresh air after being cooped up at Mum’s for a couple of days.’
‘It’s a nice walk, although a bit treacherous at this time of year,’ Florence observed, cradling her coffee cup in her hands.
‘Right. Well, he wasn’t really dressed for the weather turning, and when the sleet came in, he lost his bearings.’
‘That’s not like him,’ Florence replied. ‘He always jokes about how great his sense of direction is.’
‘It was…’ Sam trailed off. ‘But since his GP changed the medicine he’s on, he can get disorientated. And without it, it’s even worse. I suspect he’s been forgetting to take it again.’
‘Oh God…’ Florence trailed off. ‘But when we were rehearsing for the play at your place, he seemed so good about taking them.’
‘Well, he stopped being good at it.’ Sam’s voice was harsher than he’d intended, and Florence knew that his carefully constructed mask was starting to slip again. She ached to reach out a hand to his, but something held her back. Something in Sam’s voice suggested that he needed no distractions.
‘He’s been messing with his doses,’ Sam continued. ‘He was so pleased to feel better, to be getting involved in the play, that he obviously convinced himself he didn’t need them any more. And so he fucked off up the gorge this afternoon without thinking about the consequences if he got into trouble.’ Sam’s hand clenched on the coffee cup and, mindful that he looked as though if he clutched it any tighter, her bone china would break in his hands, Florence reached out a hand of her own, worrying at Sam’s fingers until he unclenched them and put the cup back down.
‘We got the call at base to fly out to Cheddar and we knew that we were going to be dealing with a patient with hypothermia and a head injury. It turns out he’d slipped on the rocky ground at the top, which was covered with new snow, and he bashed his head as he fell.’
‘How did they know where he was?’
‘Another walker and her dog found him and rang 999. Getting a road crew to the top of the gorge in that weather is tricky at the best of times, and because he wasn’t conscious, and very cold, they requested us.’ Sam shook his head. ‘I didn’t know it was him until they brought him back to the helicopter, Florence.’ He dropped his gaze from hers to his coffee cup.
Florence could see he was struggling and kept her hand on his. She felt his fingers clench around hers.
‘I landed the helicopter and the medical team got out with heat blankets and the kit for the gash on his head. All the time I was thinking, what kind of crazy twat goes up the gorge during a blizzard? What a massive waste of money to have to send the helicopter out because someone didn’t think and came up here on a crap day.’
‘It must be frustrating,’ Florence said softly, mindful of just what a knife-edge Sam was balancing on.
Sam shook his head. ‘And you know what the first thing I felt was when they brought the stretcher with him on back to the helicopter?’
Florence didn’t reply; she didn’t need to. Sam was half talking to himself anyway.
‘I was fucking angry, Florence. Angry that he’d done this, that he’d brought us all out there, and angry with him for getting the fucking injuries in Afghanistan in the first place.’ Sam’s jaw was clenched so tightly, he could barely get the words out.
Florence longed to pull him closer and stroke all of the tension away, but now was not the time. He’d turned in on himself, as if his body language was shutting her out, and trying to shut off the thoughts and emotions that were, every moment, rising nearer to the surface.
‘For a split second, I felt such a blind rage towards him. So much so, Christ only knows how I managed to pilot the helicopter to Southmead; I can’t remember a single moment of that journey. They unloaded him and took him in, and I almost couldn’t bring myself to go in with him. Walking with him to get him checked in was so, so hard.’
Florence remembered the shell-shocked tone of Sam’s voicemail and her heart ached.
‘They teach us in the navy to switch off; to grind through the gears and go through the motions under the most extreme conditions. That’s what I did. But when they brought him to the helicopter on that stretcher, I suddenly got a vision of what it would have been like when he was airlifted out of Helmand. Only… I was still so angry with him, I was wishing, for the first time in my life, that my own brother had been blown up in Afghanistan, so I didn’t have to deal with him.’
Florence’s heart lurched. Somehow, the stark truth of Sam’s confession seemed like the most honest thing he’d ever said to her. ‘It’s all right,’ she said gently. ‘You were in shock. That does odd things to people.’
‘Can you imagine what that’s like?’ he whispered finally. ‘To wish that your own brother was dead? What kind of a person am I?’ He put his head in his hands.
Acting on instinct, Florence got out of her seat and moved around to Sam. Without a word, she put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close to her body, running her hand through his tousled dark blond hair and feeling the release of emotions as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly it felt like he’d never let her go.
Time seemed to stand still as she held him, feeling his shoulders trembling as he finally released everything he’d been holding in check throughout the dreadful flight from Cheddar Gorge to Southmead and back to the base, and, Florence thought, probably longer than that. He made no sound, but his breathing
was ragged and Florence’s heart broke to listen to him.
Slowly, as his tears subsided, Sam looked up. Florence ran a hand down his cheek, and as he reached up to brush the wetness from his eyes, he caught hold of it and brought it to his lips. Without a word, she dipped her head and brought her lips to his, feeling him sharply inhale as they made contact and the kiss deepened.
‘Florence…’ Sam murmured as he drew another breath. ‘This is a really weird time.’
‘I know,’ Florence said gently. ‘But just for tonight, don’t think about it.’
If Sam was surprised by her forthright tone, he didn’t show it. Leaning back on his chair, he pulled Florence with him until she was wrapped in his arms and gasping for breath. Looking down at him, eyes still red from crying, more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him before, her heart expanded further than she ever thought possible.
‘Come on,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s go upstairs. We don’t have to do anything, just hold each other, if you want to.’
Sam smiled shakily. ‘I can’t be held fully responsible for my actions tonight, you know. As you said, I’ve been under a lot of stress.’’
‘Just for once, let me take responsibility for both of us,’ Florence replied. She stood on rather wobbly legs and held out a hand. ‘Come on.’
Sam’s hand felt warm in hers as he stood up and momentarily towered over her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Completely,’ Florence replied. ‘And who knows, you might even sleep.’
‘Sleep is absolutely the last thing on my mind, now!’ Sam gave a low laugh. The sound seemed to surprise him, given the extremes of emotion he’d been going through over the past few hours.
‘Then let’s see what happens,’ Florence said softly.
The stairs to the first floor of the house were steep, and Florence was glad of the old mahogany bannister. She’d toyed with taking it down eventually, but her knees were shaking so much, she needed the support to get upstairs. She could feel Sam’s eyes boring into her back as she headed up the stairs in front of him.