Heller's Girlfriend (23 page)

I carefully opened the card that
they’d given us and something fell out onto the bed. I picked it up
and stared at the two small pieces of thin cardboard, before
handing them to Farrell to look at. His expression probably echoed
the one I’d had on my face just a second ago when I’d looked at
them.

“Oh,” was all he managed to say,
before handing them back to me. There was a small note inside the
card as well.

Dear heroes

Thank you again for everything
you did for us that night. We can never repay you for our lives of
course, but I hope that we’ll see you both at another party in the
near future – not as our security, but as our guests. We’ve
enclosed a couple of tickets for you for the next party.

Hope to see you then.

Marty and Gabriela xx

“You can have them,” I offered,
a blush creeping across my face. Fortunately it was still
sufficiently red that he couldn’t tell.

“I was about to say the same
thing to you. Take your boyfriend,” he responded. I shook my head
fervently.

Heller entered my room, but he
wasn’t alone. He had Vanessa in tow, clinging to his arm so tightly
that he was struggling to move. She was beautiful in a form-fitting
silky black cocktail gown, her makeup dramatically perfect. Her
black hair was up in a glamorous chignon, exposing the flawless
milky skin of her neck, shoulders and chest. I felt like an
overripe tomato next to her – red, shiny and oozy. She swept
disinterested eyes over Farrell and me, not bothering to
acknowledge us in any other way. Her eyes then rested on Heller for
the remainder of their visit. I repaid the favour by ignoring her
presence.

I handed the note and tickets to
Heller. He read the note and glanced at the tickets. “The pair of
you going to a party like that together is never going to happen,
so don’t even think about it,” he stated immediately, studying us
both suspiciously.

“Don’t get your panties in a
twist. Neither of us wants to go anyway. Why don’t you use them
instead?” I suggested sweetly. “You’d be a big hit at a swingers’
party.”

He solved our dilemma by ripping
the tickets up in front of us. “No temptations for anybody,” he
declared, giving us both another doubtful look.

“We have to go now, Heller
darling, or we’ll be late for dinner,” Vanessa insisted coldly,
obviously bored with him giving another person some attention for a
minute. He paid her no heed, spending another five minutes chatting
to me. He asked me questions and checked over my chart (which I’m
pretty sure is against all hospital protocol if not even actually
illegal) before deciding that my progress was satisfactory.

“Thanks, Dr Heller,” I said,
managing a small smile.

The expression on his face was
tender. “I’ll see you soon, my sweet. Take it easy please. We all
want you back home as soon as possible. I hate it when you’re in
hospital,” he said, stroking my hair.

“So do I,” I whispered. And as
he dropped a gentle kiss on the top of my head, Vanessa dropped me
a venomous glare.
Hmm, finally something about me that
interested her.

“Enjoy your dinner,” I called
after them in my still hoarse voice, showing my nice manners, but
secretly wishing that Vanessa the Perfect Bitch would choke on a
fish bone and die. Heller turned around to smile. Vanessa turned
around to cast me a look of pure poison. Heller turned back again
and frowned.

“Time for you to go, Farrell.
Matilda needs her rest.”

“What’s her problem?” asked
Farrell as they left and he prepared to leave himself, ever the
dutiful drone.

“I think that’s actually her
friendly side.”

That little movement of his
mouth. “Watch out for her, Chalmers. She seems to have taken a
dislike to you.”

“God only knows why,” I
shrugged. “But I was more concerned with what was Heller’s problem?
He looked at us as though we spent the party night shagging each
other senseless instead of nearly killing ourselves rescuing people
from a fire.”

“Perhaps the reactions of both
are connected?” he suggested mysteriously while heading for the
door. “See you later. Back in the gym when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, hardarse.”

I thought about what he’d just
said for a while, but couldn’t make any sense of it.

I barely had time to eat my
awful hospital dinner before Daniel and Niq turned up for a visit,
staying until they were chased out by one of the nurses. When they
left, I gratefully settled down for another sleep, knowing I should
be going home the following day.

Chapter 17

However, my check-up the next
morning quickly scotched that hope. My voice had recovered
somewhat, my eyes were fine again, the redness of my skin had
abated to a soft pink, but my burns still needed regular and
painful dressing changes. The doctor declared I’d be in hospital
for yet another night – not news designed to cheer my spirits in
the least.

So I was in a reasonably grumpy
mood when two detectives walked into my room to interview me. How
did I know they were detectives? I’d like to say it was my keen cop
radar, but in fact they entered the room accompanied by my brother,
Brian. It was a lot of big men for a small hospital room, but I was
determined not to feel intimidated by their bulky presence. I
hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Hello Brian,” I said, my mood
improving a little. How nice of him to visit me.

“You look fucking terrible,”
Brian said baldly, staring down at me. Pop! There went the tiny
bubble of self-confidence I’d managed to inflate in the days I’d
spent in hospital.

“Thanks for that,” I said
sarcastically. “I’ve heard that the unvarnished truth significantly
improves the recovery of an invalid. In fact, for your information,
I happen to look a hell of a lot better than I did three days
ago.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone in
the family about what happened to you? I only heard about it from
these guys.”

“I didn’t want anyone to worry.
I thought I’d be out of here by now.”

“Mum and Dad would have wanted
to visit.”

I sighed. “I know. I probably
should have told them, but the doctor said I could go home tomorrow
so I’m not going to bother now. It’s better sometimes if they don’t
know what I get up to at work.”

One of the other men cleared his
throat. Brian turned around. “Oh yeah. Tilly, these are Detective
Gupta and Detective Thomas. They’re investigating the fire at the
house of Marty and Gabriela Scholler. You up to talking to them?”
The cool looks the detectives slid my way let me know that whether
I was up to it or not, I’d be chatting to them today.

“Why are you investigating? The
fire was accidental, surely?”

“Have to investigate all
accidental deaths, Tilly. Do you mind if we call you Tilly?” asked
Gupta, his insincere smile bright. I shrugged, not really caring
what they called me. “Just want to square everything away for the
coroner. There will be an inquest of course. But at this stage it
looks like an out-and-out accident. Tragic, but what the hell do
you expect when you have hundreds of candles, a bunch of drunk
people and a hot, strong wind? Fatal combination.”

I nodded in complete
agreement.

“Tell us what happened from when
you arrived there with your partner. What was his name?” He rifled
through his notebook. “Ferrell? Oh yeah, Farrell. We’ve already
interviewed him. We understand you were there as security.” I
nodded again. He looked me up and down. “You don’t look like a
security officer.”

“Well, I am. Fully licenced and
registered,” I snapped back.

They wanted some proof of that,
so with difficulty I leaned over to fetch my staff card out of my
handbag that someone had stowed in my bedside locker. It had my
registration number and a hideous mugshot of me on it. Gupta wrote
the details down in his notebook. I had no doubt they’d be
confirming that piece of information with the relevant
authorities.

“Not everyone wants a big
man-mountain looking after them,” I informed them. “I do a lot of
work acting as a companion to the wives of visiting businessmen in
the city for wheeling and dealing. They wanted a female security
officer at the party because half the guests were going to be
women. The host thought that would make them more comfortable than
with two big blokes on duty. And he was right.”

“Take us through the night.”

And so I did, step by step. All
three men smirked when I told them about the piss patrol.

I complained. “It wasn’t funny.
It was horrible.”

I leaned back in my bed, closed
my eyes and relived each minute of the fire. I tried my hardest to
describe in proper detail the explosion and the people Farrell and
I had rescued in the order that we’d rescued them. I was exhausted
by the end, rubbing my eyes in fatigue, my throat raspy.

The three men were silent when I
finished. Brian spoke first, exploding with anger, lecturing me in
a hectoring tone about how dangerous it was to head back into a
burning building . . .
blah, blah, blah
. I stopped listening
after the first, “you’re an idiot because . . .”

“I know that, Brian!” I shouted
back at him as loudly as I could currently manage when he stopped
for a breath. “But what could I do? Just let those people die? It
was our job to look after them. Two people
did
die that
night because Farrell and I didn’t get them out. What do you think
it’s like to live with that constantly in your mind?”

And to my shame, I started
crying in front of them. I covered my eyes with my bandaged palm
and turned my head to one side, trying to sob quietly. I wished
they’d just go away. I’d given them my statement. I had nothing
else to say to any of them and I was so tired.

A hand landed awkwardly on my
shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tilly. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know
you’ve been through a lot. You’re a real hero and I’m proud of
you,” Brian said stiffly.

I turned my face to him and
wiped my eyes on my bandages. “Thanks, Brian. That means a lot to
me,” I whispered, my throat raw again from the shouting. He kissed
me on the top of my head. The other detectives stood up,
embarrassed to be witnesses to a family squabble.

“We’ll let you know if we need
any further information,” Detective Thomas mumbled.

Heller chose that inauspicious
moment to make an entrance. He stopped at the door and looked from
face to face distrustfully, taking in my tear-stained face first
and last.

“What’s going on here?” he asked
the men with open hostility. Brian automatically bristled, his
normal first reaction to any encounter with Heller. They weren’t
friendly with each other, to say the least.

“Nothing,” the four of us said
in unison, and the three men continued towards the door.

“I’m still waiting for that
dinner invitation, Brian,” I whispered at him.

“Sure Tilly, I’ll remind Gayle.
She said she was going to organise something,” he promised and then
followed the others out the door.

“Bullshit,” I whispered to
myself sadly. If left to Gayle, I’d never see my two nieces
again.

“What was going on, Matilda?”
demanded Heller, sitting down next to me.

“They were just detectives
taking my statement, that’s all. They’re investigating the fire for
the coroner’s inquest. Brian was only visiting. He’s not involved
with the investigation.”

“Then why these?” He gently
wiped a finger under one of my eyes, scooping up some tears.

“I’m just emotional at the
moment. You know, going over it all again.”

He didn’t believe me. “And?”

I sighed. “And Brian was angry
about me risking my life. He yelled at me.”

“So now is not the time for me
to do the same?” he smiled.

I smiled back reluctantly and
sniffed. “No, definitely not.”

“I’ve come to take you home. Why
are you still in bed? I thought you were coming home today.”

“No, the doctor said not until
tomorrow now.” I held up my palms and nodded towards the covered
burns on my forearms. “These haven’t healed enough yet for me to be
released. I’m stuck here one more night at least.”

His face fell. “That’s a shame.
I made sure I had no engagements tonight, but I’m busy tomorrow
night. I really wanted to spend some time with you. We never do
that any more.”

I tested my emotions at his
statement and told myself defiantly that I couldn’t care less if we
didn’t any time together. Even if he did make himself free for me
one night, he’d probably spend the entire time talking about
Vanessa. So I remained silent.

“What’s wrong, Matilda? Are you
still angry with me because I didn’t ring you that night?”

“No.” Although I was.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know what you mean.
There’s nothing wrong.” I tried to avoid eye contact, remembering
what both he and Farrell had said about my readable face.

“I think
everything
is
wrong to you and you’re not being honest with me.”

Speaking of everything being
wrong, I plucked up the courage to ask something I’d been mulling
over. “Did you let Will know what happened to me?”

“I rang, but he didn’t answer. I
left him a message. That was when you were admitted.” His blue eyes
searched my face. “Has he contacted you?”

“No,” I admitted in a small
voice. “Did you tell Dixie?”

“She said she would visit.
Hasn’t she?”

I shook my head, miserable.
Nobody loved me any more. I would have fallen into a deep pity
party if Daniel and Niq hadn’t turned up right then. And by the
time Heller left, my two wonderful boys, who
did
love me,
even had me laughing again.

Once they also left, the rest of
the day passed quickly and I had a good night’s sleep, happily
thinking about going home. I patiently waited in bed almost all day
and it was evening before the doctor arrived to assess me. I almost
held my breath while the doctor supervised as my dressings were
changed, checking on the healing process. She hummed and hahed
before deciding that perhaps I wouldn’t die if she sent me home
today, although I received the distinct impression that she would
have preferred to keep me in for longer.