The Tied Man (33 page)

Sangita edged closer.  ‘Yes. I understand perfectly.’

I felt the stinking, disinfectant-tainted air filling my lungs.  Air that when exhaled would carry with it the first load of tawdry evil.

I opened my mouth to let the first word escape when the door swung open and a portly, avuncular man in a straining pinstripe suit and teddy-bear patterned bowtie strode in.  ‘Doctor Chawla, according to the roster, you finished your shift over four hours ago.  I suggest you go home before Castlerigg is sued for driving its housemen into the ground.’

Sangita stood in deference to our intruder.  Mr Maxwell...’ she began, and I knew we were beaten.

‘If you value your position at this hospital, you will do as you are told and leave.  I believe I have sufficient experience in post-operative care to ensure our patient is well tended, don’t you?’  James Maxwell, dearest friend of Blaine Albermarle, lifted Finn’s hand and took his pulse as he talked.

  Sangita turned apologetically to me.  ‘It looks like I’ve got to go, but I’m back here this evening.  I’ll find Finn’s room and talk to you then, yeah?’

The second promise of a talk ‘later’: a million years away, for all the good it would now do.  ‘Sure.’

Sangita Chawla backed out of the room with one last regretful glance at Finn and me.

Maxwell waited until the door had clicked shut then gave me a smile that chilled my soul.  ‘Lilith Bresson.  My, we
are
honoured.  I believe you’re the first celebrity to grace our humble building since Queen Alexandra paid us a visit in 1908.’  He took the chair that Sangita had just vacated and crossed his legs to show off a pair of gleaming black patent leather brogues.  ‘So, you’re a guest of Lady Albermarle, eh?’

I swallowed hard to get rid of the bile that flooded my mouth.  ‘Guest. Interesting word.’

‘Well, from what I can gather, your position
is
slightly different to that of young Finn here,’ he said dismissively. ‘I was just about to tee off when I took
Blaine
’s call: you can tell her that if I get a speeding ticket, I shall be invoicing her directly.  To be honest,  I was rather surprised that her boy had ventured so far afield.’

‘It’s hardly a fucking daytrip!’ I snapped.

‘Miss Bresson, your reputation as a foul-mouthed whore precedes you, so there’s no need for you to prove it in my presence.  I’ve merely come to check that things hadn’t taken any unpleasant turns, and to inform you that I’m taking personal responsibility for Finn’s care, until he makes the foolish decision to discharge himself this evening.  All against his doctor’s advice, of course, but well within his rights as a patient.’

‘Oh God, look at the state of him!’ I pleaded, fighting tears.  ‘Please, just let him stay one night...’

‘I want him out of my hospital, Miss Bresson,’ Maxwell hissed, and I shrank back into my chair.  ‘Tonight.  Lady Albermarle is one of my oldest friends, and I am
not
about to place her reputation under threat by allowing you to use Castlerigg as your personal forum.  Now, if you can manage to keep that disgusting mouth of yours shut, he can stay here undisturbed until the anaesthetic wears off.  If, however, you decide upon a repeat performance of this morning’s amateur dramatics, or think that Lady Albermarle is in the business of issuing empty threats, you’ll get a demonstration of the kind of damage I can do.’ 

He stood at Finn’s side and stroked the prone man’s face.  ‘Your friend is in a very vulnerable position at the moment, isn’t he?’

Finn made an inaudible sound of protest and tried to move away.

‘Finn, my dear boy!’ Maxwell’s demeanour changed again and he became the charming consultant, adored by women of a certain age for his soft hands and caring manner.  To me, the sudden switch made the man even more terrifying: I could see him literally getting away with murder.  ‘It was something of a surprise to hear you’d be paying me a visit at the workplace, I must say.  How are you feeling now?  A little better, yes?’

No reply.  Maxwell stooped so that his face, with its snow-white goatee and expensive pince-nez glasses, was mere inches from Finn’s.  ‘Well, when you do find  your tongue, I suggest you explain to Lilith here the virtue of silence.’  He strutted to the door.  ‘I’ll be seeing you at Christmas, Finn – I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet by then.  And Miss Bresson?  It’s been an absolute pleasure.’ 

The door clicked shut and those hand-crafted shoes echoed down the corridor.  Finn pushed his oxygen mask to one side.  ‘Cunt.’

I didn’t need to ask.  ‘He’s a client.’

‘Uh-huh.  Saves his pocket money.  Fucks me f’ two days straight. ‘Christmas treat’.  Filthy bastard.’  He frowned, as if hearing his words for the first time.  ‘Jesus, Lili, this isn’t a fuckin’ life, is it?’  He squeezed his eyes shut against the world and turned his face to the wall.

I pulled the orange nylon blanket over his shoulders and ran my hand over his forehead as if by doing so I could wipe away the traces of Maxwell’s corrupted touch.

‘Can I sleep now?’ he asked, already tumbling back into a drugged slumber.

‘You do that,’ I whispered.  ‘Sweet dreams.’

I didn’t move until I was certain Finn was sound asleep then, afraid that if I too began to doze I would never wake up in time, I stood and stretched and caught sight of myself in the mirror above the sink.  The sleek, ebony bob of the previous day now hung in lank strands around my face, and the hard glare of the strip light gave me a ghost’s pallor and illuminated the sooty shadows under my eyes.  ‘God, Clarissa, you look like Chi-Chi the fucking panda.’

I said the name without thinking, and in doing so summoned up a demon.  The walls closed in and the hospital’s miasma clawed at my neck and I bolted from the room, blindly hurtling along the maze of corridors until I crashed through a fire door into an overgrown quadrangle with a stagnant, slime-filled pond.  I threw up the meagre contents of my stomach into a straggling, diseased rosebush. 

Before I knew it, my retching transformed into desperate sobs that became great, racking howls that hurt my chest and burned my neck and made fat tears that carried the final traces of last night’s mascara in stygian streams down my face. 

‘Oh duck, why don’t you come in before you drown?’

I spun around, wiping snot, tears and make-up across my face with the back of my hand.  A smiling woman with a neat perm and a matter-of-fact face stood in the doorway, proffering a mug of coffee and a clean handkerchief.  The name badge on her bottle green tabard told me she was Agnes, a Friend of Castlerigg Hospital, Happy to Help.

‘Standing there in the pouring rain in just your vest.  You’ll catch your death.’

‘ I’m not that lucky,’ I sniffed.  I hadn’t even realised it was raining, but the storm had finally broken.  Huge raindrops pounded the earth and sent up tiny explosions of dust and the distant rumble of thunder promised relief from my slow suffocation.  I was already soaked through.

‘Come on, love.  Get inside and drink this.’ Agnes enticed me back inside as though I were a feral cat.

‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any change on me,’ I began, but Agnes shushed me.

‘Apparently you told the Wicked Witch of the West what she could do with her bloomin’ stapler,’ the woman said with a wicked little grin.  ‘
And
flattened that little security beggar in his Hitler suit.  You’ve earned a coffee.  In fact, I might even stretch to a chocolate digestive.’

I took the mug from her and the tears threatened to return.  ‘Please don’t be too nice to me,’ I implored.  ‘I don’t think I could cope with that right now.’

‘You see a lot of that, working in this place.’ Agnes handed me a tissue.  ‘People holding it together, I mean.  Especially the women.   I take it that’s your young man in one of those rooms back there?’

I was going to say that it was far more complicated than that  – in another time I might have told her to mind her own bloody business – but for now, I was damn certain I wasn’t going to let anyone else have him.  ‘Yes, he’s mine.’ The words were nowhere near as difficult as I thought they might be.

‘I’m sure you’ll look after him beautifully,’ Agnes assured me, then checked her watch.  ‘Oh heck, my Dave’ll be cursing me.  He’ll have been sitting in that car park for the best part of half-an-hour, waiting to pick me up.’  She unclipped her tabard and pulled it off over her head.  ‘Well love, I hate to leave you like this, but I’m afraid that’s me done for the day.  Just pop the mug down there when you’ve finished.’

‘Thanks.’ I  began to rally a little as I dried my eyes and gulped down scalding, sweet coffee.  ‘Nice jumper, by the way.’ 

Agnes looked down at the design of two yellow
Labradors
against a burgundy background.  ‘This old thing?  Knitted it years ago.’

‘It’s
very
cool.  I could never make anything like that.’

My companion smiled with delight.  ‘Well that’s praise, coming from you.’

No disguise was ever perfect.  ‘Ah.  You know.’ 

‘Oh yes,’ Agnes nodded.  ‘Art History ‘A’ level at night class – keeps the old grey matter from turning to jelly.  A bit tricky mind, with you looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, and with those lenses in.  Wasn’t I meant to recognise you?’

‘It would make things an awful lot easier if you didn’t.’

‘Well in that case duck, this has all been a figment of my imagination, not to be shared with anyone, even my Dave.  Is that better?’

I nodded.  ‘Thank you.  Again.’

Agnes was halfway down the corridor when she turned on her heels and came bustling back towards me.  ‘Here, why don’t you take this?  I reckon it’s warm enough for me to go home in just my blouse, and you’ll be nithered before too long.’  She took her sweater off and handed it to me.  ‘I know it’s not exactly the height of fashion, but -’

‘Oh no, I can’t take that...’  I tried refusing.

‘Nonsense.  I can have a new one knitted in a week, and it’s not going to help your young man if you catch pneumonia now, is it?’  She was taking no further argument from me, because she pulled the
Labrador
sweater over my head.  ‘There now.  That’s better.  And here’s a couple of pounds – make sure get yourself a bar of chocolate from the machine, or something.’  She pressed the coins into my palm and gave me one last concerned appraisal.  ‘Now, will you be okay?’

I found myself embraced in warmth and floral perfume and I had to gulp more coffee to stop the tears returning.  I nodded, and she smiled.

‘Good girl.  You take care now, won’t you?’

I watched Agnes disappear down the hallway, off to meet her Dave, and let the last inch of coffee and thick sugar syrup slide down my throat.  Junkie’s coffee.  I set the mug down before returning to Finn’s side.

In a benevolent universe, I would have stayed in hospital.  I would have been given time to heal properly, and vast amounts of drugs, and whilst I was compiling my wish list, Lilith as my only visitor, bearing grapes, a large bottle of vodka and the latest edition of
Gardener’s World Magazine
.  Instead, we were being escorted to the delivery entrance of
Castlerigg
Hospital
by a cantankerous old porter who, in the absence of the truth, had made up his own reasons for my rapid departure.  He was more than eager to share them with Lilith.

‘If it was up to me, I’d leave this lot where they bloody well fell,’ he grunted as pushed my wheelchair.

‘Meaning?’ Lilith asked.

‘Bloody junkies.  Druggies.  Whatever you want to call ‘em.  You can always spot ‘em.  Come in here, doped up to the bloody eyeballs thinkin’ we’re NHS, bleeding from God knows where and no idea how it happened, then bugger off before the police can get to ‘em.  I’d just let ‘em rot in the gutter – it’d just need a couple to go like that for the rest to get the message.’

Lilith’s fingers clenched into my shoulder.  ‘You should think about running for prime minister.’ I could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

‘Aye, mebbe I will.  I’d stop them bloody darkies bringing all them drugs into our country in the first place.’

‘Excellent plan,’ Lilith agreed as we reached the Land Rover.  ‘I’ll take him from here, shall I?’

‘Whatever you want, just as long as you get him out of our bloody car park,’ the man grumbled, already heading back inside.

‘Fucking
darkies
?’  Lilith said incredulously.  ‘Well, that just about makes a perfect day.’

‘Well done.  You didn’t hit him.’

Lilith began to load pillows and blankets into the front passenger seat, padding it out for an uncomfortable ride back to Albermarle.  ‘Didn’t have the energy.  I’ll wait until I’m free, then I’ll come back and flatten the twat.’

*****

The return journey was hell.  Even the smallest of movements pulled at the stitches in my stomach and I was haunted by the irrational fear that they would split at any moment and spill my guts out onto my lap.  But if there was one lesson my life had taught me, it was that as bad as all this was, there was always room for things to get just that little bit worse.

The first herald was the tension that began in my neck and began to hum like telegraph wire along every muscle in my body, quickly followed by a fluttering, baseless feeling of panic that made me bite my lip to avoid crying out like a child.  As lightning started to flicker around us and the windscreen wipers struggled to clear the deluge, I told myself that I was safe in this car with Lilith, that we would soon be home so I could fix things.  Nothing worked.  Soon the pounding rain on the cab roof became artillery-loud and the only thing I could do to stop it splitting my skull in two was to slam my head into the metal doorframe.  At first Lilith must have thought it was an accident, that I had jolted myself as I tried to get comfortable.  Then I did it again.  And again.