Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,60
‘You were hit by a bus and you banged your head. They think it must have been on the side window of your car. They say that you are just a bit concussed but you should be fine in a few days.’
I couldn’t remember an accident, or a bus. ‘How did you know I was here?’ I asked her.
‘I called your mobile to tell you the time of the train I was coming on and a nurse answered it. She told me you were in hospital so I came straight away.’ Caroline smiled.
That was nice, I thought.
‘What time is it?’ I said.
‘About two o’clock,’ she said.
‘In the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry about dinner,’ I said. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Right here,’ she said. That was nice too. ‘It took a bit of persuasion but, in the end, they let me stay.’
‘But you must have somewhere to sleep,’ I said.
‘I’m happy just here.’ She smiled at me. I was so glad. ‘I’ll find somewhere to sleep in the morning.’
Wow, I thought.
‘Are you still suing me?’ I asked.
‘Absolutely,’ she said, and she laughed. Her laughter turned to tears that streamed down her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time. ‘Oh God, I’m so relieved you are all right. Don’t you ever do that to me again.’
‘Do what?’ I said.
‘Don’t you ever frighten me like that again. When I called your phone they told me you were having a brain scan to check for any pressure build-up. They told me that they didn’t yet know the extent of any permanent brain damage.’ She was crying at the memory. ‘I don’t want to lose you, not when I’ve only just found you.’
‘I thought it was me who found you.’
‘Yes,’ she said, choking back the sobs. ‘So it was. How was that exactly? Perhaps it’s better I don’t know.’ She leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead, then she kissed me gently on the lips. I could get used to that, I thought.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s not a convenient time, but I really need to go to the loo.’
‘I’ll get a nurse,’ she said, and disappeared. She came back with a large middle-aged woman wearing a blue nurse’s tunic.
‘Ah, you’re back with us again, Mr Moreton,’ said the nurse. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Not too bad,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache and I need to go to the loo.’
‘Bottle or bedpan?’ she said. It took me quite a few seconds to understand what she meant.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Bedpan. But can’t I go to the bathroom?’
‘I’ll see if I can find a wheelchair,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you walking yet after such a bang. You have a concussion and your balance may be affected.’
She returned with the wheelchair and helped me out of bed and into it. I was wearing what could only be described as a nightshirt with an opening down the back. It did nothing for my modesty since my rear end was exposed for all to see as the nurse lowered me gently into the chair. My balance, indeed, wasn’t very good and the manoeuvre could hardly be described as elegant. I hoped very much that Caroline hadn’t been watching.
The nurse pushed me down the corridor to the bathroom. It was getting rather urgent and I started to get myself out of the chair and on to the lavatory.
‘Just a minute,’ said the nurse. ‘Let me put the brakes on first.’
The brakes. Wasn’t there something else about brakes? I tried to remember what it was.
As if wearing a gap-backed nightshirt wasn’t bad enough, the nurse insisted on standing next to me and holding my shoulders throughout the procedure in case I toppled off the lavatory and on to the floor. Hospital, I concluded, did nothing for one’s dignity.
Feeling much better but still embarrassed by the process I was wheeled back to my bed by the nurse. She applied the brakes of the wheelchair. I sat there. Why was it that I hoped the brakes wouldn’t fail again?
‘Caroline,’ I called out loudly.
‘Shhh,’ said the nurse. ‘You’ll wake everyone up.’
‘I’m here,’ said Caroline, coming and crouching down to my level.
‘The brakes on my car failed,’ I whispered.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘A policeman told the doctors they thought it was the brakes failing that caused the accident.’