by Jane Lark
‘What’s wrong?’ I said quietly.
Jack looked at me, his eyes dark and cagey.
I touched his cheek. ‘Why are you in a bad mood?’
‘Maybe because half my body was smashed to pieces and I’m stuck in here.’
His mood had been okay yesterday.
‘I want to get up. I want to get out. I want to be free from all these fucking wires.’
The nurse came back in. ‘I just heard; the doctor said you can go up to a private ward today, Jack, there’s a room for you. We’ll get you moved in an hour or so.’
I looked at the nurse. ‘Can I help him get dressed? I brought some clothes in. It might help him feel more normal.’
‘Sure.’ He looked at Jack. ‘You’re a bit down today, aren’t you, Jack, but it’s the medicine wearing off. People always get the blues for a couple of days after they come off morphine.’
‘God he’s patronising,’ Jack whispered when the nurse walked out of the room, and now I got it; he might be down because of the drugs, but one thing Jack, my Captain Control, would really hate was a stranger treating him like a child, especially when he could do nothing for himself. This was Jack’s hell as much as that cliff in the Lake District had been mine.
‘Well, you’re getting out of here now and I presume you’ll be able to get out of bed and move around on the ward.’ I’d help him find the footholds and get up this cliff.
‘I don’t want to be on a fucking ward. Can’t you get a wheelchair and take me home?’
‘And if you got really sick again—’
‘I won’t.’
‘Just stay in here a few days, maybe until the weekend.’
‘The weekend – I’m holding you to that,’ he said as he unsteadily tried to swing around sideways, to hang his legs over the edge of the bed, but there were long white dressings on his legs, covering where they’d operated on his bones, and his legs were swollen, so he couldn’t bend them easily. I opened the pack of boxers, pulled out a pair and threw the others back in the bag I’d been forced to pay five pence for, then carefully slid them over his feet and up his legs.
He stood up at the end, so I could pull them up, but he had to hold my shoulders and his fingers clasped tight as he wobbled, and he turned white.
‘Should you be standing? Shall I call the nurse?’
‘Don’t you dare. I don’t want that bloke back in here. Help me get that t-shirt on. I can do whatever I want to. It’s my body I don’t need his permission. If I wanted to walk out of this hospital I could and I would. I’m not his prisoner.’
‘But you just had surgery.’
‘I saw the surgeon just now and he told me everything is fine and I should get my limbs moving as soon as possible to avoid another blood clot.’
‘Jack…’ Captain Control was angry and fighting.
‘What? My bones are bolted back together. He said it’s fine to stand. Movement gets the blood to the bones and helps them heel. And if they’d pinned me together that badly that everything would fall apart, it would fall apart whether I stood up today or in a week.’
But getting the t-shirt on was impossible with the drip in his arm and the monitors on him. He was all for ripping them off himself but I went out to get the condescending nurse.
As Jack was going up to a ward so he would be taken off the machines soon anyway and probably because he knew Jack was an awkward patient, the nurse agreed to take it all off now. He took the drip line out, then told Jack to press on a pad of cotton wool to stop the bleeding. Jack was too weak to do it for long, so I took over as the man detached Jack from the machines and switched them all off.
Jack was getting well again, but there was no way I was going to let him discharge himself when he was still this unsteady. He’d been near death two days ago.
When the porter came with a wheelchair to take him up to the ward, Jack had jogging bottoms and his t-shirt on and he looked more like Jack, just a pale version of himself, but he got paler and paler as we travelled up in the lift.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes.’
I didn’t think he’d admit it if he wasn’t; he was in full on control mode now. He was going to get better no matter what his body thought about it.
The nurses up there were nice. They got him settled into a room with a TV, a view of the city and an en-suite with a shower.
He wanted to sit in the chair in there, to escape the bed. ‘Jack you look as if you’re going to faint, get on the fucking bed.’
He laughed at me then, because I didn’t swear loads so he knew my patience was running out.
I smiled at him sarcastically, but held his arm to help him move.
When he’d lain down, as he shut his eyes I touched his arm. He looked as pale as the sheet. ‘You rest. I’ll go down and get some breakfast. My parents are probably here now.’
He caught hold of my hand and his eyes opened. ‘Your parents…’
‘Yes, they haven’t been in to see you – they just wanted to support me. But now you’re up here, do you want to meet them?’
‘You’ve met mine so, yes. But give me an hour to recover from the move.’
‘Okay.’ I stroked his hair off his forehead. Maybe later, if the nurses agreed, I could help him use the shower, I could wash his hair for him. That would make him feel better and give him another foothold. ‘I’ll leave you to sleep. I’ll see you later.’ I leaned down and kissed him. His hand clasped my wrist and tried to hold me down, but his hold was too weak.
‘Thanks, Ivy. I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.’
‘You aren’t putting me through anything. I’m here because I love you—’
‘I love you twice as much as that.’ He shut his eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.
I didn’t leave him for an hour, I left him for two; from the colour of his skin he’d needed a really good rest.
Chapter 33
I was sitting up in bed struggling to lift a beaker of tea to my mouth and chew a sandwich when Ivy tapped the open door. An emotional guitar solo played through my heart. What I’d said to her earlier was true. After this, I loved her more; every emotion I felt was a dozen times deeper. That aggressive nurse downstairs would have said it was an aftermath from the medication. I didn’t think so.
‘Hello, Mr Angry Invalid. I brought you visitors.’
I made a face at her and twisted sideways on the bed, trying to let my legs, from the knees, dangle over the side, but it felt like the stitches in my legs were going to tear open. I twisted back round, but sat upright, stuffing the pillow higher behind me.
Ivy’s dad stepped forward with his hand out. I held my hand out. My arm trembled. I wondered how her first meeting with Mum and Dad had gone. This was the wrong setting for all of this. ‘Mr Cooper.’
‘Jack.’
I’d bet they were dubious about me, about my intent. I was her boss and now they knew my parents they might think I was messing around with Ivy because she didn’t have my background.
The room did a spin as her dad shook my hand then let it go. ‘I’m Brian, not Mr Cooper.’
‘Mrs Cooper.’ I looked over and nodded at her.
‘Elizabeth.’
‘I wish I was meeting you in better circumstances, over dinner or something,’ I said, but at least now I had some clothes on.
‘Sorry he’s in a bad mood.’
‘Can you blame me?’ I gave Ivy a look.
Ivy’s mum smiled at me. ‘No. We know how poorly you are.’
‘Sorry. I’d imagined this moment differently.’ Like I’d imagined talking to her dad differently. Like I’d imagined introducing her to my parents differently. But she was okay with my parents anyway.
I looked at Ivy. ‘Would you ask someone to get us a hot drink?’
‘You have one,’ she glanced at my half-empty beaker, ‘and we had one downstairs.’
‘I know, but I’m really thirsty, and that’s cold.’
She nodded, but he
r look said I’d sounded rude. ‘Okay.’
‘Sorry, Ivy. Please would you ask if we can have a hot drink?’
When she disappeared I looked at her dad and smiled. I’d rather be on my feet looking him in the eyes. I felt so out of control stuck in a bed. But this was how things were. ‘I want to ask your permission to marry Ivy, Mr Cooper, Brian. If that’s alright. I’d intended proposing to her when we were away, and asking your permission to marry her after, but seeing as you’re here. I don’t want to rush anything. I know there’s Daisy to think about and I’ve only just got divorced, but Ivy wasn’t feeling secure with me, and I love her, and I want to marry her, and I want her to know it.’
He gave me a shallow smile, a little like his daughter’s. ‘Well I guess I don’t need to ask you how you’ll provide for her, as you’re her boss. But thank you for having the decency to ask. You have my consent and she looks devoted to you, so I have no doubt it’s what she wants.’ And they’d seen her turn Rick down. They were positive words.
Devoted to me… They were pivotal words.
God Sharon had never been devoted to me, but I felt devoted to Ivy too I’d do anything to keep her, anything for her. But I still didn’t think she believed that.
She would get it, though.
Ivy came back in, smiling. ‘They’re going to bring a trolley—’ She stopped and glared at me. ‘Lie down. You had three major operations three days ago and you’re white as the sheets. You shouldn’t be sitting up.’
I made a face at her. A trolley… This wasn’t Fortnum and Mason’s.
As I lay down again, I caught Mrs Cooper’s gaze. She winked at me. On first impressions I liked Ivy’s parents; they were homely, normal, nice people.
While we drank our cheap tea, Mum and Dad arrived.
Just how down to earth and nice Ivy’s parents were flashed like a beacon when Dad came in and did his stiff-upper-lip thing and Mum greeted everybody in her ladies-who-lunch voice.
But apparently they knew each other, and my parents liked them… It was as if they’d been friends for weeks.
I was tired and struggling to keep my eyes open after half an hour.
Ivy held my hand, standing on the far side of the bed to the others, saying without words: You’re alright, I’m here.
After that weirdo had broken into her room I’d had her safety rope – now she was gripping mine.
When it got to the end of visiting time I persuaded the nurse, with a bit of charm, to let Ivy break the rules and stay with me and while I said goodbye to my parents and her parents, Ivy went downstairs to get some stuff from the shop so she could wash my hair.
When Ivy came back, the nurse came in and took my dressings off. Ivy hovered in a corner. There were vicious red scar lines on my legs with regimental rows of black stitches, and there was a matching wound on my arm. All my muscles were tight and sore; it was going to be a long time before I climbed again.
Shit.
The nurse told Ivy that she could help me into a wheelchair and help me wash in the shower and do my hair, if we were careful not to get shampoo on my wounds. So she left the dressings off.
Ivy shut the door to the room when the nurse went out after leaving a pile of warm towels in the room.
‘Strip off and get in there with me.’ I said as Ivy helped take my t-shirt off.
‘You’re meant to be too ill to be thinking stuff like that.’
‘I haven’t had sex for nearly a week.’
‘More like half a week, and you’ve been unconscious.’
‘It would make me feel better. At least take your top off.’
She gave me a grin and stripped off the sweatshirt and t-shirt she had on. She had a blue lacy bra underneath. I stood up and pushed down my bottoms and my boxers a tiny bit, my bad arm shaking. Ivy had to help me get them off the rest of the way. I felt foolish, but I was glad it was Ivy helping and no one else. ‘I couldn’t imagine Sharon helping me like this.’ It was a joke, but it wasn’t so sarcastic. Ivy looked at me as she straightened, folding my clothes.
She smiled.
Guilt punched me. ‘Sorry. You shouldn’t have to be my nurse; I didn’t ask you to go out with me for that.’
She smiled again. ‘You told me at Christmas, it was because you liked my bum.’
I smiled. ‘And your eyes. I’ve always loved your eyes, and your face, and your body. Well, just all of you, Ivy.’
Her smile twisted.
I took her hands and leaned heavily on to her to get into the wheelchair. The pain from the wounds was sharp, like knife stabs when I tried bending my legs. The nurses had offered me more morphine but I didn’t want it. I was tough enough to deal with pain. But naked, I could see how much of a mess I was in. There were bruises on my inner thighs and across my chest, and all around the wounds, and then I saw my face in the mirror and the disgusting yellow bruise over half my forehead and around my eye. It was a wonder Ivy still wanted anything to do with me – and that Daisy hadn’t run out of the room screaming.
Ivy wheeled me into the shower room and angled the shower so it didn’t run over my legs and the chair so I could tip back my head and then she washed my hair. God it felt good, not only to have clean hair but to have her hands on me.
After she’d finished washing my hair she helped me stand up under the water for a moment, to wash off the brown stains of the iodine they’d painted on my legs while operating. She got her jeans wet – and her bra was soaked.
When she turned off the shower she put a towel on the wheelchair for me to sit on, then started patting my legs down carefully.
‘I wish we were at home,’ I said. The pressure of tears hurt at the back of my throat.
‘You will be soon. I know you’ll be going crazy in here, but just be patient.’
‘Me patient…’
‘Jack, I do know you, but you can cope.’
I growled at her as she wheeled me back into the bedroom. ‘You know Captain Control is screaming?’
‘I know. But he’s going to have to shut up.’ She smiled at me, lifting her eyebrows. ‘Remember when you made me climb that cliff at Christmas?’
‘Yes.’
‘Think of this as yours. You can get to the top. I’ll help you.’
God, that was mean. ‘Are you trying to sales-pitch me?’
She laughed.
‘It took you moments to get to the top of that cliff. This is going to take weeks.’
‘So what, it’ll be okay. You’ll get there.’
I made a face at her, remembering her resistance and my sales pitch. No pitch could persuade anyone they wanted to be hit by a car.
She helped me get clean boxers on and then the clothes I’d taken off back on, and then she helped me on to the bed. I was exhausted.
‘You look like a ghost.’
‘Lie down and hold me.’
She put her t-shirt back on and then lay down. We put the TV on to some drama and cuddled up until a nurse came in and told her to get off the bed – then she was sent home. It was like being at boarding school again. I had no control over anything.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll ask the nurses if I can bring your PlayStation in so you have something to do – there must be advantages to private care.’
I smiled. She may have reacted badly to my declaration of love, but everything she was saying and doing now said she loved me. ‘I love that you know me so well.’
‘I just love you, Jack. See you tomorrow.’
My first visitors arrived on the ward at eleven o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t Ivy who walked in but Mum and Dad, who’d brought in some clothes and stuff from my apartment – Ivy had texted Mum and asked her to. They gave me my phone back too, so I called Em and found out what had been going on in the office. Then Ivy walked in with her absorbing smile and bright eyes.
‘Hello, beautiful.’
Mum and Dad were sitting by the window discussing where to eat lunch. Dad was going to go back
to America tomorrow and Mum was thinking about going home for a couple of days. I’d told her I’d be alright if she did. I didn’t need them hovering around me.
But I wanted Ivy hovering.
I’d told Em I was keeping Ivy off work because I needed her. I’d said she could take Ivy’s salary out of mine and tell everyone else she was taking unpaid leave. I wasn’t going to let anyone malign her for being there for me. She had offered to help me face this cliff and I needed her. The doctor had said to me this morning it would be months before I’d be back to normal. The break in my femur had been complex and there was steel scaffolding holding me up when I stood now. It was going to take months of physiotherapy to get my knees moving and my range of movement would never be the same. That knowledge just made me want to fight harder; I was going to get better.
‘Happy now you have your PlayStation?’
‘Not until you play on it with me.’ I couldn’t face this without her. She was the only person I was prepared to relinquish my control to. I trusted her. I wanted her to be the one who hung on to the rope, while I climbed out of this hole. God it was dark.
She gave me another beautiful smile.
‘I’m not in such a bad mood today,’ I told her. I was resigned to facing the cliff. As long as I had her with me, I’d force the fear away and get up there.
‘Yes. He is happier, but trying to do far more than he should,’ Mum answered. ‘The nurse told us he tried to walk along the corridor alone. They are getting him some crutches.’
‘The doctor said it’s fine for me to be on my feet.’
‘Yes, but to take it steady,’ Dad said. ‘He didn’t mean on your feet all the time.’
‘Jack Rendell?’
I looked up. A policeman stood at the door to my room. ‘Yes.’ Why?
‘I’d be grateful if you’d give us a statement. We believe we have the driver of the vehicle that hit you in custody.’
Ivy’s phone started ringing. ‘Hello,’ she answered it.
‘Are you able to tell us what happened that evening?’ The man pulled out a notepad without even waiting for me to say it was okay.
