by Suzy K Quinn
‘Rag week,’ Ryan shouts. ‘Give us your donations.’
Not surprisingly, no one is happy to part with any money after what they’ve just seen, especially since it’s so clear Ryan is very drunk.
We wander up and down the train for the next hour, but Ryan certainly doesn’t have a winning manner and every time I ask anyone for money, he shouts, ‘Be quiet, slave.’
When Ryan’s beer runs out, he drags me up to the street so he can find a supermarket.
He’s pleased to see a Tesco Metro, and pulls me into the cold drink aisles, throwing cans of Stella into the crook of his arm.
‘I need the toilet,’ I say. ‘Can we find somewhere nearby?’
‘What are you drinking, slave?’
‘Just a coke,’ I say.
‘I order you to drink something alcoholic,’ says Ryan.
‘Well I won’t,’ I reply.
‘Fine. If you won’t get drunk with me, no toilet breaks.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ I say. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I tug at the plastic handcuffs but they’re surprisingly firm. I’d need a pair of pliers to break them open.
‘You’re stuck with me,’ says Ryan smugly. He pauses for a moment, and blinks in a languid, drunk way. Then he appears to have a change of heart. ‘Okay, fine, have a coke.’
‘Can we find a toilet after this?’
‘Yes.’
He takes the drinks towards the till, then pulls me into a nearby pub and up some stairs to a ladies’ toilet.
‘This is embarrassing,’ I mutter, going into a cubicle and closing the door over the plastic handcuff chain.
‘I won’t peak, I promise,’ says Ryan.
I hear two drinks being opened, and roll my eyes. ‘Ryan, we’re never going to win if you’re falling all over the place.’ This is awful. It’s like being chained to a six year old child.
There’s a fizzing sound, and I wonder if Ryan has spilt his drink.
‘Are you managing okay in there, one-handed?’ Ryan asks. ‘You don’t want me to wipe for you?’
‘Oh, be quiet,’ I say, pulling up my jeans and flushing the toilet.
I wash my hands, and then Ryan hands me my coke.
‘Thanks,’ I say, noticing he’s opened it for me. ‘That’s the first thoughtful thing you’ve done all day.’
Chapter 32
Half an hour later, I’m not feeling good. Ryan’s dragged me up and down Oxford Street, thrusting the charity bucket in people’s faces. We’ve seen a few of our fellow students, their buckets rattling with money, but we’ve barely collected anything.
My heart is pounding, and I lean against a wall. ‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Please, Ryan, I’m serious. I need to rest.’ The world begins to spin, and my head hurts.
Ryan looks at me strangely. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘Aren’t you feeling good? You should be.’
I sink to the floor against a brick wall, not caring where I am or who’s looking at me. The pounding in my heart is overtaking everything and I feel frightened.
‘You’re bleeding,’ Ryan says.
‘I am?’ I say, dazed. ‘Where?’
‘From your nose.’
I put my hand under my nose and see blurry blood on my hand. Then I pass out.
When I wake up, I see a white ceiling. I look down and discover I’m under green bedclothes. My body aches and my head hurts. I try to sit up, and see a large lady in a nurse’s uniform come towards my bed.
She takes my hand. ‘You’re alright. You’re just in A&E, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.’
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘You tell us,’ she says, with a knowing smile. ‘You’ve taken something you shouldn’t, and it had something nasty in it. Nothing too harmful, we don’t think, but better we keep an eye on you.’
‘Taken something?’
The nurse raises an eyebrow. ‘You may as well be honest about it, love. The more honest you are, the more we can help you.’
‘But I didn’t take anything,’ I say. ‘I had a shot and half a beer, but that’s all.’
‘We see it all the time on student rag week,’ says the nurse. ‘Alcohol poisoning, usually, but the odd idiot like you takes something stronger. You were lucky.’
‘But really, I didn’t,’ I say, feeling on the verge of tears.
‘Maybe you’ll remember better later,’ the nurse says with a wink. She turns around. ‘Oh! My word.’
I close my bruised eyes, wondering what’s bothering her. When I open them again, I see the tall, shadowy figure of Marc Blackwell approaching my bed. He looks pointedly at the nurse, who hurries away. Then, he swishes the hospital curtain around us.
Oh my god.
‘What are you doing here?’ I gasp.
‘What happened to you?’ he asks softly, taking my wrist. It’s covered in bruises from the handcuff. His eyes flash as he examines my blue-brown flesh. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘No one,’ I say. ‘It’s student rag week. I was handcuffed to another student.’ I’m too weak to worry about what I must look like.
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Male or female?’
‘Male.’
‘Who?’
‘Ryan.’
‘I’m taking you out of here. To a private facility. They say you took something.’
‘But I didn’t,’ I say. ‘Truly I didn’t. Maybe it was something I ate. They said I’m going to be okay,’ I say. ‘I just need rest.’
‘Well, I’d rather be safe than sorry. I have an ambulance waiting outside, and I’ve arranged for you to be taken to a facility in West London.’
‘The nurse doesn’t believe I didn’t take anything,’ I say, feeling tearful again. ‘But I really didn’t.’
Marc doesn’t say anything.
Chapter 33
My private hospital room is full of roses – pink, yellow and red blooms on every surface. Marc was beside me in the ambulance, but he didn’t say a word. He stared straight ahead, his forehead creased, his lips tight. As I’m wheeled into the private room by a hospital orderly, Marc helps me onto the bed.
‘I’m feeling much better,’ I croak, although my eyes still ache.
‘Rest here,’ says Marc, marching towards the door. ‘I’ve hired people to take care of you around the clock. I’ll be back, but there’s something I need to do first.’ At the door, a pretty brown-haired nurse in a white uniform is waiting.
‘Give her anything she wants,’ says Marc, ‘and be very careful when you take her blood. Her wrist is badly bruised.’
He marches off, and the nurse comes into the room.
‘I’m Trinity,’ she says. ‘Marc hired me to be your personal nurse. I need to take some blood from you, and then I’ll make you comfortable. Bring you whatever food you like and set up some movies.’
I notice a flat screen opposite the bed, and see green bushes and trees outside the window.
She takes my blood very carefully, and I hardly feel the syringe at all.
‘Well, now,’ she says, when she’s disposed of the needle and packed up the blood sample. ‘What can I get you to eat? Marc’s given me specific orders. Any meal you like from any restaurant in London. You can have Gordon Ramsey himself cook you something, if you like. He’s a personal friend of Marc’s.’
I smile at the thought. What would Jen think if she could see me now? I decide I won’t ring her or my family from the hospital. They’d only worry.
I feel my stomach grumble at the thought of food. ‘Actually, the thing I’d most like is pizza,’ I say. ‘Followed by ice cream.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ says Trinity. ‘Marc’s bought you some sweatpants and t-shirts to help you get comfortable. He really does care for his students, doesn’t he?’
Perhaps more than he should, I think, finding it hard to get a grip on everything that’s happening. I appreciate Marc taking care of me, and bringing me to this fancy hospital where they can run specialist tests. But would he do this for a
ll his students? If he wouldn’t, it isn’t fair. I want Marc so badly, but I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want favouritism.
I find myself watching the door, hoping Marc will come back. It’s been such a whirlwind so far, I haven’t thought about much but Marc’s body and the things he’s done to me. But I am his pupil, and he’s my lecturer. He’s in a position of authority and he’s not supposed to abuse it. I’m so confused. The only thing I know for certain is that I want to see him again. Actually, not just see him. I want him to touch me again.
After a while, Trinity returns. ‘We got your test results,’ she says. ‘Marc made sure everything went through extra fast.’
Which I guess means he paid a lot of money, I think, feeling uncomfortable.
‘What did they say?’ I ask.
‘You took something with rat poison in it. But you’ll be absolutely fine. It was a very low dose, and the body has excellent ways of getting rid of poison.’
‘Rat poison?’ My stomach lurches. ‘But how?’
‘It’s something we often find cut with hard drugs.’
‘But I haven’t taken any hard drugs.’
‘Who were you with today?’
‘Another student called Ryan.’
‘Was he taking anything?’
I think back to Ryan’s bleary eyes and agitated manner. I thought he was just drunk, but ... ‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘It’s possible.’
‘And could you have taken something by mistake?’
Then it hits me. The Coca Cola. In the toilets. He opened my drink for me. It was such a strange thing for him to do. So unlike him to do something thoughtful.
‘Maybe he put something in my drink,’ I say.
Trinity nods. ‘Sounds like the most likely explanation.’
Chapter 34
A few hours later, I’m eating pepperoni pizza and watching Shakespeare in Love on the flat screen TV. When the pizza is finished, I start on a tub of cookies and cream ice cream. Trinity brought me three flavours, just to make sure she picked one I liked. She needn’t have worried. I like all ice cream.
A few specialists have come to see me, checked my temperature and asked me questions. But otherwise, I’ve been on my own.
I have to admit, hospital or not, I’m having a good time, except for the aching feeling I have when I think of Marc. Aside from wanting to see him, I’m embarrassed he might think I took drugs with Ryan.
A tall shadow falls over the glazed door, and my spoon pauses over a square of frozen cookie.
The door opens and my throat goes tight.
It’s Marc.
‘Sophia.’ He closes the door behind him. ‘How are you feeling?’ He’s wearing his usual black, fitted suit and black shirt, the top button undone. I’d never thought about it before, but I’ve never seen him wear a tie. I notice the bumps of his sharp collar bone, and the round muscles of his shoulders under his suit jacket.
His brown hair is loose, as usual, with a wave falling across his forehead.
‘Much better,’ I breathe, putting the ice cream on the side table, the spoon clattering inelegantly.
Marc picks up the doctor’s board by my bed and scans the medical data. ‘Good. You’ve had all the tests. Excellent.’
I smile. ‘I looked at that board too. It made no sense to me at all.’
Marc frowns. ‘I’ve been in a few hospitals in my time. And I have a good memory. I made it my business to learn all I could.’
‘Oh?’ It feels strange to think of him hurt. Vulnerable. ‘You’ve been in hospital?’ I think of his martial arts movies, and wonder if he was injured doing stunts.
‘Not me,’ Marc says, absently. ‘My sister.’
I want to ask him more, but I sense he’ll close down, so instead I say, ‘Thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me. But I want to pay for all this -’
Marc holds up a hand. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I want to take care of you.’
‘I don’t want any favouritism,’ I say. ‘Just because we’ve ... things have happened, doesn’t mean I should get any special treatment.’
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘You think this is special treatment?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I’d do this for any of my pupils,’ says Marc, the skin around his blue eyes tightening. ‘And I’m a little offended you’d think I wouldn’t.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I swallow ice cream that has suddenly become a bit too sickly. That put me in my place. I’m not so special after all.
‘You look much better,’ says Marc. ‘I was worried about you. When I heard you were in hospital – I’m furious with myself for letting this happen.’
‘You didn’t let anything happen,’ I say. ‘It was an accident.’
‘An accident that could have been avoided.’
‘You believe I didn’t take drugs on purpose, don’t you?’ I say.
Marc nods.
‘I think I know what happened,’ I say tentatively.
Marc holds up his hand. ‘I know, too,’ he says. ‘Your friend Ryan spiked your drink with what he thought was cocaine.’
‘How do you know that?’ I say, my mouth falling open.
‘I spoke with Ryan earlier. He admitted everything. People don’t tend to lie to me.’
‘That scumbag,’ I say. ‘And for the record, he’s not my friend.’
‘I guessed that,’ says Marc. ‘But I think he’d like to be. From what he told me, I think he’d like to be more than your friend.’
‘What?’ I shake my head. ‘Not Ryan. He hates me. He and Cecile both do.’
‘Some people just find it hard to express themselves when they feel something very strongly,’ says Marc. ‘He’s been captivated by you from the first moment he saw you. Just like I have.’
My stomach flips at that last comment. ‘But he’s so ... rude. And mean.’
‘Like I said. Some people have a hard time expressing themselves. But don’t worry. He won’t be spiking anyone’s drink in a hurry. He saw a little of my temper today. But that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do if he ever hurts you again. And he knows it.’
Marc turns the television off and sits on the bed. My stomach buzzes just to have him near me. ‘The doctors have given you the all clear, but I think it’s best you stay overnight. Just in case. You can leave tomorrow morning. Sunday,’ he adds softly. ‘In time for your class on Monday morning.’
I swallow, remembering what he said about punishing me. ‘What’s going to happen on Monday?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’
‘Will you punish me for this, too? For ending up in hospital?’
Marc shakes his head. ‘Sophia, this isn’t your fault.’
He gets up and locks the door.
Chapter 35
‘What are you doing?’ I say. ‘What if the nurse needs to come in?’
‘She won’t,’ says Marc. ‘I’ve told all the medical staff not to disturb you while I’m visiting.’
‘Won’t the newspapers have something to say about that?’ I ask.
‘One of the joys of a private facility,’ Marc says, ‘is that money buys you confidentiality, and they wouldn’t dream of selling anything to the press here. The only story the press have is that I visited you in the other hospital. And they can make of that what they like – it proves nothing more than I care about my students. Which I do.’ His voice lowers. ‘I missed you today.’
‘I missed you too.’
‘I’m finding it hard to forgive myself.’
‘Thank you,’ I murmur. ‘It’s nice to know you care.’
‘I do care.’ He strokes my hair. ‘A lot.’
‘I wanted to ask you something,’ I say. ‘About a newspaper article I saw a few days ago.’
Chapter 36
‘Ah ha,’ says Marc. ‘So you’re listening to tabloid gossip now? Don’t believe everything you read, Sophia.’
‘The paper said something about your sex life,’ I say. ‘Something about a
llegations ...’
‘Yes,’ says Marc. ‘Let’s just say that newspapers have a way of twisting the truth.’
‘So there’s no truth in it?’
Marc puts his phone down. ‘The latest set of allegations? It was a set up. For money. Okay? I should have known better, but when the scenario presented itself, I ... I couldn’t help myself.’
‘You couldn’t help yourself? What scenario?’
Marc looks away from me. ‘That didn’t come out right. Of course I could have helped myself. But ... I didn’t that day. It’s not like with you. I was in control. The whole way through.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’d been playing a very tough role that day. The woman in question had a minor role in the movie we were making. I guess she somehow knew I like to be in charge and set me up. All that happened months ago, before I met you.’
I feel a sliver of something unpleasant. Jealousy. I don’t like the thought of him with another woman.
Good god, Sophia, what have you got yourself into? Don’t fall in love with a movie star who has to be in charge. It can only ever end in tears.
Marc grins. ‘You look thoughtful. Am I challenging your inhibitions at least?’
‘I don’t think I’m all that inhibited.’
Marc laughs. ‘You’re joking? You’re inhibited, trust me.’
‘Next to you, maybe.’
‘Oh, I have my own inhibitions. When it comes to real intimacy ...’ He puts his face by mine, and strokes my cheek. ‘I’ll take good care of you, Sophia. Give me your phone number.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘After today’s little escapade, I want to make sure I can always get in touch with you.’
I don’t like that reply, but I do like the idea of him having my number, so I read off the digits. He enters them into his phone, and I feel a swell of excitement at the thought of him calling.
He strokes the sheet that lays over me.
‘Monday,’ he says.
Chapter 37
I leave the hospital on Sunday morning feeling great. For breakfast, I have a delicious hospital breakfast of strawberry smoothie, toasted pumpkin seed porridge and freshly baked rye bread with unsalted butter.
