AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why not? I want to. I don’t think I have a choice.
He drifted in and out of the pain.
And with a noisy rush, the paramedics arrived, loaded down with bags the size of small cars.
A minute after that, everything faded to a blissful black.
27
Awake
Thursday 8am
Charlie opened his eyes, then closed them again. The light was bright, but the sheets were clean, and the pillow dented in just the right way. The cotton felt good against his skin; stiff with starch but also smooth with the softness that came from multiple washings. He was warm. He drifted. Sometime later he opened his eyes again and heard someone say his name. The someone was a nurse, and he couldn’t pretend he was at home in bed, with a day of nothing to do stretching out in front of him.
“Hello,” he croaked.
“Let’s get you sitting up,” she said, making the head of the bed tip up, so that like it or not, he could see his surroundings: a pale green hospital room, with the usual drip stand, wash basin, chairs in wipe-clean fabrics and a bedside table with a box of tissues, a covered water jug and a plastic beaker.
“How’s your side?” she asked, sticking a thermometer in his ear.
“Sore,” he said. “My arm too.”
“Temperature fine.” She noted something on the chart hanging on the end of the bed. “Blood pressure.” She pumped the cuff up round his uninjured arm and noted that down too, tested his oxygen level and his pulse and noted them without sharing. “I’ll bring you some painkillers,” she said and left.
Charlie looked down at his body. The whole of his left side was covered in dressings, as was the top of his left arm. They both hurt. The bandages on his side were stained with blood, and he didn’t want to know what was underneath.
The nurse came back with a tiny plastic pot containing two tablets. She poured him a glass of water and held the pot out for him to take the tablets.
“Paracetamol,” she said. He swallowed the tablets with some difficulty, because his throat was dry, and the tablets seemed huge.
“Right,” she said. “Let’s have a look at that dressing.”
“You can look,” Charlie said, “but don’t expect me to.”
She laughed. “It’s not so bad. Lots of blood last night but keep it clean and you’ll heal in a week. Turn on your side.”
He turned and concentrated on his breathing as an antidote to worrying about what was under the bandages.
“No sign of infection,” the nurse said. “We’ll give you some antibiotics just in case. Take a couple of paracetamol three times a day if it hurts, and the district nurse will come and change the dressing. As soon as you’ve got some clothes and your prescription, you can go. There’s an odd-looking woman, smells of cigarette smoke, wanting to see you, says she’s your boss?”
Charlie grinned. “Yep, that’s her.”
The nurse gave him a questioning look and left, to be replaced by DCI Ravensbourne.
“Boss,” Charlie said. “Sorry about this.” He waved to indicate the hospital room, and his own incapacity. “They say I can go as soon as I’ve got a prescription. And some clothes.” He looked down at the hospital gown and pulled the blankets a bit higher. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share his half naked chest with Ravensbourne.
“Apologies, Charlie? You’ve singlehandedly solved crimes we didn’t even know had been committed. You need a medal, boy.” Her tone was light-hearted. Then she sat in one of the visitors’ chairs and looked at him more seriously.
“We’ve got Vitruvious, Kaylan Sully and Gwilym Bowen locked up. I understand that Nigel Harrington-Bowen delivered his resignation letter to the Chief Constable this morning. Jared Brody is on holiday, but I expect he’ll resign too. David Smith, who is the Chief Finance Officer at the College of Art has been suspended pending an enquiry. Michael Pepperdine has identified his son’s body and given us a statement about the extra fifty-thousand dollars he paid to get Rico a place here. Gwilym will be charged with the assaults. We’ll work on the arson, but don’t hold your breath.”
“What about the others?” Charlie wanted to know.
“That’s where it gets interesting.”
Charlie wasn’t sure interesting was the word he would use, not while he was bandaged up in a hospital bed, with a gunshot wound, albeit a minor one.
“Surely we can get Vitruvious for the fraud at least?” he asked.
