“Your mother finally died and left us all her money?”
“Sean, for Christ’s sake will you be sensible for a change. We may be women, but we’ve actually got a brain between our ears, you know. We’ve been talking about poor Rishi over there.” Without wanting Rishi to notice they were discussing his welfare, Bec gave a subtle nod of her head in his direction, then turned back to face her husband.
“Yeah, the poor fooker doesn’t look all that great at the moment, does he? But he’ll get over it. A good hiding never hurt anyone. Teach him to be more streetwise next time, eh? Besides, there’s plenty more where he came from. Well, that’s what Steve and Paul are saying.”
The girls had moved to the side of the courtyard so that Jools had a better view of Rishi. When she was talking with him in the kitchen after he first arrived, he appeared somewhat vacant and detached and she wasn’t totally happy with his responses. It was as if the lights were on but whoever was home was having a confusing day, since he kept repeating himself. Not a good sign. So she put her healing hat on, and looking past his physical injuries, although Rishi appeared to simply be suffering from the side effects of mild concussion, she felt there was still a need to keep him under observation.
Just in case, she thought to herself. I’m sure he’s okay, but it won’t do any harm watching out for him. Head injuries can turn for the worse unexpectedly.
“But that’s not the point, Sean,” said Kaz in a firmer-than-usual tone. “The point is that the ‘poor fooker’ as you so colorfully described him was innocently attacked. He’s got just as much right as you and me and everyone else for that matter to be able to walk down the street and not fear for his life. He could have been killed. You read about it in the paper every day—kid gets beaten up and ends up a vegetable, or whatever. How would you like it if he was Rory? I bet you’d change your story.”
Sean was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
“And Sean, he’s an Indian, if you hadn’t noticed, and our business relies on the Indians. They’re our bread and butter,” continued Kaz. “I think that this is a little more serious than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Shit, I’ve kicked a hornet’s nest here. You girls all got PMS? Of course I know he’s an Indian, even without his turban.”
“Sean, you’re still missing the point,” interjected Bec. “If this hits the papers or gets in the press, or worse still, ends up being reported in the Indian press, it could do serious damage to our business. Add this to all the other beatings that have been in the headlines lately, plus the article in the paper this morning . . .”
“Look, I just build the accommodation to house them,” replied Sean. “Besides, Paul and Steve reckon it’s all okay and that there’s nothing to worry about. It’ll all blow over and that’ll be the last we’ll hear of it.”
“Sean, how can you say that!” said Kaz sternly. “That’s such a racist comment. I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, you have to admit he’s got a killer suntan.” Sean was trying to lighten up the conversation with a bit of humor. He wasn’t expecting to get his head chewed off by a bunch of women on a mission to save the world.
Jools at this stage was standing facing Rishi, and glancing over at him, noticed he was trying to get out of the deck chair the kids had put him in. But something wasn’t right. As Rishi went to stand up, he must have put his weight unevenly on the arms of the chair.
Jools watched in horror as the chair lurched sideways. Time suddenly changed to slo-mo. Rishi was falling out.
Flashes of Rishi crashing headfirst onto the stone paving ran through Jools’s head.
“Oh my God, Rishi’s in trouble,” gasped Jools.
Her concerned tone took them by surprise. They all turned toward Rishi to see what had caught Jools’s attention. But Jools had already started running forward, pushing Sean and Bec to one side as she bolted past them.
Cait was standing immediately to Rishi’s left. She dropped her wine, the glass shattering into a hundred pieces. Blindly reaching out, she somehow grabbed hold of Rishi’s shirt. Jason grasped Rishi’s arm but it was slipping through his clutches. Rishi continued falling forward, about to faceplant onto the hard paving.
Jools made it just as Rishi was wedged unsteadily against Jason’s leg. The deck chair collapsed even further. Cait was desperately trying to drag him and the crumpling chair back to an upright position. Jools instinctively grabbed Rishi by the shoulders, helping her daughter lift him back to safety. Jason held on to the white plastic arm of the chair to stop it buckling totally and tipping Rishi out.
The whole event seemed to stretch out over minutes. In reality, Rishi was back upright and secure in his chair in ten seconds max, start to finish.
As if on freeze-frame, the three rescuers just stood their ground, motionless. Rishi sat deathly still, speechless, mouth slightly ajar with a glazed”what the Hell happened” expression.
“Jeee-sus, that was close.” Jason was the first to speak.
“Rishi, are you all right?” said Cait urgently. She grabbed his hand and bent over him, looking deeply into his jet-black, frightened eyes. With her other hand she reached up tenderly, stroking the uninjured side of his face, feeling the coarseness of his thick black stubble brush against the back of her hand.
“Ah yeah, I think so. I must have slipped or something. What happened?” Rishi was confused. He couldn’t really recall falling, only being pushed back into his chair.
“Ah, I’ve got such a headache. Can I go inside and lie down for a bit?” Rishi was squinting as if he was in bright sunshine but he was now in the shade.
The force of Jools pushing Sean to one side when she bolted to Rishi’s aid totally took him by surprise. When Sean realized a split second later that all was not right, he too bolted, ending up three paces behind Jools. Sean was now standing immediately in front of Rishi, witnessing Cait’s concerned tenderness for her close family friend. He moved forward and with a softness that belied his physical presence, lightly brushed Cait’s hand to one side and said “Don’t worry, Caitie. He’ll be fine.”
Kneeling down in front of Rishi, Sean looked into Rishi’s jet-black eyes and said, “Hey mate. That wasn’t a smart thing to do now, was it? Now, put your arms around my neck.” Without so much as a hesitation or even a grunt, Sean gently pulled Rishi up off his chair, carrying him inside as if he were as light as a small child and placed him carefully on the large couch in the living room.
Kaz looked on at Sean’s obvious compassion and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. His actions were the total antithesis to his derogatory and racist comments about the Indians that he made not more than five minutes ago, and she was dumbfounded. Bec glanced over at Kaz and casually said, “That’s a side to Sean you don’t see often. He hides it. But deep down he’s such a softie, with a heart of gold. Don’t you realize that most of the time he’s all bluff and bravado?”
“I, ah . . . I don’t know what to say,” said Kaz. “In all my time I’ve known Sean, I’ve never seen him like that. All we usually do is fight and bicker. I’m sorry to say it to your face, Bec, but sometimes he really can be such a boofhead, as G calls him.”
Bec looked slightly taken aback. She was aware of her husband’s nickname, but no one had ever called him that in front of her. Realizing what she had just said, Kaz instantly felt embarrassed and apologetic.
“Oh Bec, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that Sean’s like that. It’s just that he, well, I think, baits me and he always plays the buffoon.”
“Kaz, it’s not just you. Sean baits everybody and loves taking the piss out of people. In his Irish way, he’s always up to getting a rise out of someone. Believe it or not, he’s actually a lot more aware than you may think. Except when he’s with Paul and Steve. I think he trusts them too much.”
“Hey G, Dec, come inside and give me a hand for a tick, would you. I want to get Rishi comfortable on the couch and I need to make some space.” Jools was
standing in the doorway, signaling them to leave their conversation and help out. Rishi had become so close to all of them that he was almost part of the family—he might as well have been, considering the amount of time he spent at their place—and Jools was concerned and upset for him.
“Hey Dec, I need you to watch over Jools. You know how attached she is to Rishi,” said G to his son as they made their way inside. “In fact, we all are.”
“Yeah Dad, it’s just not fair. Rishi’s such a cool dude. It’s kind of upsetting that we weren’t there to help him.”
“Well, you can’t beat yourself up over that. But Cait’s taking it hard. Keep close to her as well, okay?”
“Sure Dad. You know, she might deny it, but I reckon those two are almost an item.”
“Funny you say that. Jools and I said the same thing to each other last week.”
“So how’s the headache, Rishi?” asked Jools. She was watching him carefully, but hopefully not too obviously. Not that he probably would have noticed, as he really wasn’t quite with it.
“Yeah, I’ve got a headache. How’d you know that? The light outside’s really bright. It’s hurting my eyes.” Rishi was squinting and appeared slightly confused and disoriented. “Jools, what am I doing lying on the couch?”
This definitely isn’t good, thought Jools. Rishi may have been a little spacey when he first arrived, which is quite understandable considering what he’d been through, but then he was quite lucid and cognizant of what happened to him. Now he’s changed.
“Rishi, do you remember what happened to you last night?”
“What do you mean? I . . . ah, I . . . that’s right, I was in the hospital . . . I got taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I was walking down the street and this huge ugly guy called me names and then hit me I think. I don’t remember exactly.” Rishi was speaking quite slowly, as if he had to put his words together before he spoke them.
“Cait,” said Jools. “Can you please find Rishi’s sunglasses outside and bring them in for him. And ask everyone to give Rishi a bit of space, would you. Best if they stayed out the back for a bit.”
Cait had now calmed down and acquiesced to her mother’s suggestions without question. After all, her mother did have medical training.
“Bec, please make Rishi and me a cup of chamomile tea. The tea bags are in the cupboard above the kettle. Kaz, grab a couple of pillows for Rishi from the spare room, would you.” Jools was in control now. Her authoritative tone naturally made people just do what she asked without question.
Jools was getting more concerned by the minute for Rishi’s welfare.
“Rishi, you were attacked and injured last night, and luckily a group of people rescued you and then called an ambulance. You told us about it when you first arrived. Do you remember now?”
“Yeah Jools. Thanks.”
She decided to give him half an hour to see if he was just having a moment, or in the worse-case scenario, regressed. After all, you could never be too careful with concussion.
“Jools, I feel really tired. Could I just lie here a bit?”
“Sure, Rishi. Tell you what, I’ve got some tidying up to do in the kitchen. Why don’t you have a quick rest and if you need anything, just give me a call. But I’ve got to go outside first to get a few things, okay?”
Cait and the rest of the kids, along with Bec and Kaz, were all milling around outside as a disparate group, not really knowing what to do or even to talk about. Apart from Sean, the others at the BBQ weren’t really all that aware of what was going on with Rishi, other than the fact that he fell out of his chair and was having a”rest” on the couch inside.
Most of the partygoers just assumed he’d had one too many.
Jools walked straight over to them. “Right, an update,” said Jools a bit hoarsely, stopping to swallow before continuing. “I don’t want to ring the alarm bells, but I’d like you to try and keep everyone out here as best as possible. I’d like to keep an eye on Rishi inside for a little while to see if he improves.”
“What! Is he that bad?” said Cait in a voice with a building crescendo of panic attached to it.
“I can’t say it any other way. He’s suffering from concussion, yes. But unfortunately he appears to be getting worse, so I’m giving him half an hour. If he doesn’t spring out of it or hasn’t improved, he needs to be re-examined, just in case.” She didn’t want to overly concern them any more than they already were, especially Cait, so she avoided saying”we’ll have to call an ambulance,” although that’s what she was intending to do.
With tears welling up in her eyes again, Cait said, “Mum, he’s going to be all right, isn’t he? He was fine before. He just slipped didn’t he, when he went to get up?” Cait started imagining the worst, as thoughts of Rishi ending up back in the hospital darkened her mind.
“Cait darling, I know you’re concerned about Rishi. We all are. But we really just have to wait and see for a bit. Do Rishi’s parents know what’s happened to their son yet?”
“Probably not. They’re away on holidays in India. Won’t be back for another week or so.”
“In some ways that’s a blessing in disguise,” continued Jools. “But they do need to be told. Assuming Rishi’s okay I’ll suggest to him that he give them a ring tonight if he hasn’t already done so.”
Like actors in a well-rehearsed play, the two paramedics confidently walked up to Rishi together, and with an efficiency of familiarity, immediately went to work. The one with Greg on his name tag slipped on his latex gloves as he was approaching, leaving a fine mist of talcum powder puff in the air, and his partner Suzi followed close behind, carrying her bag of tricks in a black case. Flashes of déjà vu went through Rishi’s mind.
Smiling, Rishi said hi.
They had a familiar sterile, antiseptic smell about them which Rishi’s subconscious associated with hospitals and medical treatment and he felt safe.
Jools had already met the paramedics at the front door when they first arrived and given them a heads-up. “The patient’s name is Rishi. He suffered a head injury last night and he ended up in the ER; his blood’s pressure currently one ten over sixty, but constant; pulse is weak, ninety-five bpm; breathing’s slightly shallow and rapid; skin’s losing color and becoming clammy; a dull, constant headache; photosensitivity; and he’s complaining about being really sleepy.”
“Thanks. That’s really helpful. Could be going back into shock. Where is he?” said Suzi.
“Out back.” Jools pointed down the hallway.
“So how are you, Rishi? My name’s Greg and this is Suzi. From what Jools has just told us it sounds like you’ve seen better days. Are you in any pain?
“Not really, apart from having a headache to beat all headaches. And I feel a bit light-headed and sick. Otherwise I think I’m okay.”
“Great,” said Greg. “Well, it’s not great really. Now I just want to quickly examine you. Is that all right with you?”
“Sure.”
“Rishi, we need to take you back to The Alfred,” said Greg. “I realize that it’s the last place you probably want to be right now, but it looks like you may be going into what’s known as delayed shock, and to be on the safe side you need to be medically monitored.
“Believe me, this is standard procedure with all head injuries,” he continued in a sterner tone. “You can never be too careful when you’ve received a blow to your head, even if it’s just mild concussion as they told you last night.”
In actuality, Greg left Rishi no option to chance about readmitting him. He had to go, and straightaway; there was no alternative. Greg was only being circumspect with Rishi because the poor kid was already in shock and he didn’t want to panic him by telling him the whole picture. If Rishi was bleeding into the brain as Greg suspected, and the blood flow was not immediately arrested it could easily lead to brain injury, or worse still, death. The apparent rapid onset of his symptoms certainly indicated that Rishi had to be examined urgently. If there was a
subdural hematoma developing, minutes counted.
After the ambulance sped off with Rishi in tow, a somber hush fell over the guests as if a wet blanket had been thrown over the backyard. The mood turned more funereal than upbeat Sunday afternoon BBQ, the atmosphere resembling the listless melancholy ever present in a concert hall after it’s been cleared of patrons, with people huddling in small, familiar groups chatting in hushed tones among themselves.
“G, put something easy to listen to on the Bose,” said Jools. The deepening silence had to be broken or the current mood would suck in everyone’s feelings like a giant vortex and they would all feel devoid of emotion: drained, flat, and depressed.
Not a good way to end the day.
“It’s been a big day, G,” said Jools to her husband as he walked into the kitchen with a handful of dirty glasses from outside.
He really is a lovely man, Jools thought to herself. She was washing the last of the platters and stacking the glasses that G had just put on the kitchen bench into the dishwasher.
Maybe I was too hard on him this morning. Like all of us, he needs time out to let go. We’ve had such a tough eighteen months since our business crashed out.
“Leave the rest till tomorrow. I’ll finish the tidying up in the morning. I’m not working Monday. Come on, time for bed, G.”
Jools sat down at the island bench, the events of the past few hours replaying in her head.
“A nightcap before bed would be nice.”
“Sure, Jools. Bourbon and ice?”
“Perfect.” G nodded and started to make her a drink.
“God, my heart goes out to Rishi,” said Jools almost rhetorically. “He’s such a gentle soul. He didn’t deserve a beating like that. I’m really worried about him.”
“What, his concussion?”
“G, people die from less. Look at these young kids getting a crack on the head in a game of football, and then the next minute they’re either a vegetable, or worse still, dead.”
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 8
