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‘He’s going to be fine. Lie down, babe.’
‘Is he still here?’
‘He’s going to be fine, Freya, honestly. Roger’s here with him and he’s called his wife. He has a couple of stitches and some bruising. The brain scan was clear.’
‘Brain scan! He had a brain scan! Oh my God! I have to see him.’ She tried sitting up again but her head span the second she accelerated her movements past snail pace.
‘Freya, please try and stay calm. The doctor says you’ve got to rest.’
‘Well, the doctor doesn’t know me very well, does he? You know how much I hate hospitals and what I hate more than hospitals is laying still. Can we go home? Where’s my handbag?’ She scanned the room for signs of familiarity and started to peel away the tape holding the drip in position.
‘Freya, come on, don’t make this difficult. The doctor says you’re dehydrated and you passed out.’
‘I left my bag at the casino. It has my phone in and my purse and…’ she started.
‘Don’t worry about the damn bag. I’ll call Martin, the manager and have him find it. Freya, you got so worked up, you fainted.’
He was repeating himself. Not because he thought she hadn’t heard the first time, but to hammer the point home. She’d got worked up over her father and what he had arranged for Mike and she’d blacked out. It wasn’t like that had never happened before.
‘I know what I did but I’m fine now. I just want to go home.’ She finally managed to sit up.
‘Look, stay in bed, just for a minute. I’ll go and tell the doctor you’re awake and see what I can do. Here, have some water.’ He passed her a plastic cup.
She took a sip of the cool liquid and watched Nicholas leave the room. She took a deep breath and put her hand to her chest. It still felt tight and her head was woolly. She remembered the last time this had happened. She’d been on a flight from Athens to London having ended her relationship with Nicholas and having just spoken to her father. He was the cause of it. Like he was the cause of everything ugly that happened in her life.
Nicholas came back into the room followed by a tall, white-haired, doctor. He had a moustache and a smile. His name badge introduced him as Dr Mark Stone.
‘Hello, Freya. I’m glad you’re awake. My name is…’ the doctor began. He sat on the edge of Freya’s bed.
‘Dr Mark Stone, so I see. Why’s that name familiar to me?’
‘Ah well, you’re most probably thinking of Dr Mark Sloane. Some of my patients say it isn’t just my name that connects me. Do you think I bear a little resemblance to Dick Van Dyke?’ He straightened himself up and pushed his glasses down his nose.
‘Diagnosis Murder! Of course!’
‘I’m afraid Freya’s a bit of a TV addict, Doc.’ Nicholas informed.
‘Well, for that I have no cure. Say, Nick, could you get Freya another cup of water while I talk privately with her for a moment?’ Dr Stone suggested.
‘Sure,’ he agreed. He gave Freya’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
‘It’s OK, Dr Stone. Anything you have to tell me, you can say in front of Nick.’
They’d promised no more secrets and, if she was honest, she didn’t want to know something she might feel she had to keep from him. She was good at doing that just lately.
‘Humour an old doctor, will you, Freya? At my age, I do tend to like my routines.’ The doctor smiled at her.
‘It’s OK, babe. I’ll just be outside and you can fill me in on what the doc says later.’
‘I have to admit, I really just want to be alone with a pretty young lady. I have to take my chances when they present themselves.’ Dr Stone let out a laugh as Nicholas left the room.
Freya propped herself up in the bed and looked straight at the doctor.
‘Look, Dr Stone, can I go home now? I know what happened to me. My blood pressure went through the roof and I passed out. You gave me some vile sedative which is why I feel like crap and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a whole bag of rock-hard pork scratchings.’ She threw the sheet off her legs.
‘Pork what?’ Dr Stone queried.
‘Never mind. Just go and get me whatever form I need to sign to get myself out of here.’
