Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

From the acrid taste in his mouth it would have been easy to conclude he’d drank direct from an untreated sewage plant. Had he the energy, Matt would have thrown up there and then. He spotted the half empty glass on the side table. There was no way he was drinking from it.

  Where was he?

  Matt ordered his mind to make contact with the rest of his body. One by one his limbs came into play, all except his left shoulder. God it was painful. Not even mobile. The feel of cotton against his skin alerted him to the fact he was resting under the quilt.

  He tried to move. The left shoulder refused to budge. What was stopping it? Matt turned his head and saw a sling had been firmly attached. It felt like his arm had been permanently clamped against his body. The door opened. He remembered the face.

  “Britta, what have you done to me?”

  She approached slowly and sat on the bed.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Like I can’t move any part of my body, what the hell have you done?”

  “Returned your shoulder back into its rightful place; there was a dislocation. You would not have agreed if I told you what had to be done.”

  “But I can’t move it,” he said.

  “The feeling will return soon. Rest for a day or so and the shoulder will improve. The lower bone in your leg is bruised and jarred. It will also need time to recover. Other than that, you are fine.”

  He felt the nerves in his shoulder begin to tingle, rapidly accompanied by deep seated muscular and skeletal pain.

  “How can you be sure?” he winced.

  “If I was not sure then I would have ordered an ambulance, and had you taken to hospital for treatment.”

  Matt stretched out a hand. Britta moved to the other side of the bed and slipped an arm underneath his body to lift him to a seated position. He cursed at the effort. Britta returned to the other side and offered him the glass.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “This is water only and the painkillers are genuine.”

  Matt hesitated, uncertain of her intentions. The warm smile and the concerned look in her eyes convinced him she was genuine. They were quiet for a while as he waited for the medicinal prescription to take effect. Gradually he began to feel better.

  “You have many scars,” she said. “Are you a warrior?”

  He grinned, of a sort.

  “No, unlucky more like. I’ll dress and be on my way.”

  “I have washed your clothes. They need to be ironed.”

  Matt lifted the quilt and peeked at his naked body.

  “Including your shorts,” she said with an amused smirk.

  He was about to open his mouth and complain.

  “It is okay. You do not have to thank me.”

  Matt was stunned into silence. He tried to speak again.

  “There is a robe hanging on the door. When you are ready, come down and I will prepare breakfast. Full English, is what I believe you call it,” she said.

  He gave up trying to argue. What was there to complain about after all? Matt nodded appreciatively and smiled.

  The silk robe was ridiculously small, barely covering any of the important pieces. Matt frequently had to pull it back into place. He could see Britta’s smug amusement at his attempts to cover his modesty, though she never laughed openly.

  “I’ll dry,” he said as she cleared the dishes from the breakfast table.

  “Why do men believe they can do the impossible,” she laughed.

  “I do have one good arm.”

  “Yes, but only one.”

  He looked at the wall clock. Nearly ten a.m.

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “Not every Sunday.”

  “Today is Sunday?”

  “Yes. I did say your body needed to rest.”

  There was little he could do about recapturing the lost day. He elected not to allow the news to upset him. If anything, he was another day closer to the meeting with Catherine Vogel.

  “Is there much damage to your car?”

  “Some,” she replied.

  He sighed.

  “I expected to wake up in jail, after you knocked me out with whatever that stuff was.”

  “The thought crossed my mind. I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I jump into your car uninvited and point a loaded gun at your stomach, taking you hostage. Then I deliberately crash your car into another and tell you to drive off. And you are giving me the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Hmm,” she said. “Since you put it this way, perhaps there is a call I should make.”

  The look of concern on his face evaporated once she had smiled. Britta was being incredibly kind to him. He figured she must have some kind of hidden, ulterior motive. Nobody helps other people out of kindness alone. Recent history had taught him he could take no-one at face value.

  Matt examined his surroundings. The place was devoid of evidence of a partner. He found this curious, having always assumed doctors came in pairs these days. He thought better of asking the obvious question. Britta completed drying the dishes. She walked back to the table and sat down to see him examining a bottle of pills.

  “Yes, they are what I gave you,” she said, answering the question in his mind. “Your clothes will be ready by the time you have showered. There is a fresh toothbrush in the cabinet.”

  She helped him up and he walked unsteadily forward. He turned at the open door and caught her staring at him.

  “Thank You, Britta.”

  “Go,” she said. “You are beginning to smell.”

  He could see humour in her eyes. Matt realised he would never have survived for long without Britta’s medical care. Of all the vehicles he could have clambered into, he had randomly selected hers. How lucky could a man get?

  Matt eased himself into the cushioned cane chair in the wide conservatory. The lawn stretched far away into the distance. Trees lined to either side, most of them carrying bundles of fruit hanging from the branches. There was barely a breeze judging by the stillness of the leaves. A hot drink appeared on the coffee table in front.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Let me see your shoulder.”

  The shirt was slipped away from his body and he felt her hands kneading at the muscles of his shoulder. It felt so good.

  “How is that?”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  She massaged the area for some time, in complete silence. He sensed a question was coming. Matt chose to wait for its delivery, content as he was to sit back and fully enjoy her light touch.

  “Who is Grace?” she asked.

  This was the last thing he expected her to ask.

  “Grace?”

  “Yes. You called her name constantly, in your sleep.”

  Matt wasn’t sure how to react. He thought all references to Grace had been completely erased from his memory. It felt as though his mind had frozen, such was his inability to respond.

  “Somebody,” was all he could muster.

  He sensed her interest had been aroused.

  “This woman must have, perhaps still does, hold some importance to your life?”

  “Not any more.”

  An uneasy silence descended.

  “You don’t wish to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” he said.

  Britta retreated into thought. She had something on her mind.

  “I have not always been alone,” she said unexpectedly.

  Her words were spoken as though she were recalling a cold and distant memory.

  “My husband was taken several years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

  “For a time we were inseparable. But Marcus had always been devoted to his research, a cure for a form of cancer. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with him. The work took up more and more of his time however. I asked him on several occasions not to allow it to consume his life, no matter how worthy the cause.”<
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  “He didn’t listen?”

  “Devotion had turned to obsession. After a while I began to question his true feelings for me, as he was rarely at home. In my mind I was convinced there was a reason other than work for his behaviour, another woman. To me, it was obvious.”

  Matt sensed an unhappy ending.

  “I indulged in an affair and was discovered. Marcus took time away and we holidayed to Indonesia. He had organised the trip in an attempt at reconciliation. In truth, there had been nothing to reconcile. I had misjudged the situation, misjudged him. My mind had chosen to believe circumstance rather than fact. By then, it was too late.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Matt couldn’t see Britta’s face. He could feel her growing tension however, in the way she manipulated her fingers to the muscles around his shoulder.

  “We were returning from a walk along the beach, the day after Christmas, when the first of the waves arrived. Marcus and I succeeded in reaching the resort hotel and we started to scramble up to the top floor. The tsunami struck with such might. He managed to secure a hold on me. I was submerged for a while but he held on. Believing the worst was over he started to haul me up the stairwell. I was exhausted, spent.”

  Matt understood there was more to come.

  “The second wave arrived. Marcus saw it first. I sobbed in the knowledge I did not have the strength to survive another ordeal. All he had to do was let me go. I remember calling to him, telling Marcus to release me and save himself. Instead he climbed down and used the remnants of his energy to lift me to safety, just as the second wave struck. Marcus was swept away. His body was never recovered.”

  Hers was a sad tale. Matt could only wonder about Britta’s purpose in recounting the tale to him.

  “Marcus was a good person,” said Matt, turning to face her.

  “Yes … yes he was.”

  “And so are you, Britta.”

  The muscles in her face failed to move, though her eyes flinched in acknowledgement of his supportive phrase.

  “There is a moral to the story.”

  She turned her gaze away.

  “Forgive me. I do not mean to lecture.”

  Matt rested the fingers of his right hand on to her face. Her eyes flickered towards him.

  “It’s okay. I’m listening,” he said softly.

  She hesitated before speaking again.

  “With good fortune, you will love more than once in your lifetime. Of them all it is the one who is prepared to sacrifice everything, surrender all, to keep you free from harm you must never let slip away.”

  Matt wondered what exactly he’d said about Grace during his sleep to prompt these words from Britta. She had put two and two together and made five. That said, it was clear to him she hadn’t succeeded in putting her life back together. Britta had been broken by the experience, still was. Matt felt sure this was the moment he was supposed to come up with deep and profound sentiment, a form of words to console her mind and ease the inner pain she continued to suffer from, like the way it happened in the movies. Nothing remotely clever like that came into his mind. Bereft of any kind of inspiration, all he could think to do was reach up and kiss tenderly at her cheek.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Sometimes it is easier to talk to a stranger than confide in a friend. A friend always has a view. A stranger however, rarely takes sides.”

  He looked puzzled.

  “Have I confused you?”

  “I’d hoped we’d got beyond the stage where you thought I was strange,” he said dryly.

  Britta threw back her head and laughed aloud. She stepped towards the door. Halfway there she came to another halt and looked back.

  “Your coffee is getting cold,” she said.

  Then she laughed aloud again.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  A Spirit Flies