every female
young or old who crossed his path. I should be careful!
He squinted up at me.
‘I can’t stop thinking about that bastard. How could he have done a thing like that, and not stop? They must have known. Don’t you think? You couldn’t bash into someone
even on a dark road and not realise you’d caused a life-bloody-changing injury to someone?’
He spread his arms, to frame the legs that were stretched out stiff beneath the covers.
Then, with a flourish, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he threw the sheet off.
‘Look at this.’
I don’t know what I’d been expecting.
A cast, perhaps. Some kind of dressing certainly.
Not this.
I tried to take a breath. No air went in.
My hands went up to my face. I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to look. Didn’t want him to show me this. The room spun. I’d gone hot. Everything fizzed. I was going to
faint.
‘No,’ I heard myself say. ‘No!’
Both of his legs were bandaged. But one of them was dressed only as far as the knee.
The rest of the leg, from the knee down, was missing.
‘Come on. It’s OK. I’m alright.’ His words seemed to come to me from far away.
I squinted through my fingers. He was gazing at me, questioningly. ‘It won’t make you fancy me any less, will it, Ellie?’
I needed to get away. I rushed back across the ward and asked for the hospital toilets. I reached them just in time to throw up. In the mirror my face was the same colour as the pale walls. I
threw cold water at it. Then I stood, clutching the cool porcelain of the basin for I don’t know how long. I was trembling uncontrollably. I wanted to run away as far as I could. Turn back
the clock, never drive alone to Suffolk, never listen to the radio, start to think that I might have hit someone, visit them in the hospital. I didn’t do it, I couldn’t have done. It
was a bird. But they hadn’t caught the person who had done it and I was on the road at the right time, and . . . now this!
It was as bad as if I’d killed him.
Worse?
I had to go to the police, as I should have done straight away, and say I was afraid I was responsible for this man’s atrocious injuries.
My whole life, the one I’d been anticipating as I set off for Southwold that April night, free of Finn, painting for galleries, going for weekends in the country with Pepper, that whole
vision wobbled like a mirage before it vanishes.
I stood for a little longer.
Then I began to breathe a little more steadily, to force myself to take some action. I had to confront this. It put me in a position of responsibility, being given this information. I had to be
brave, I had to be adult. Patrick had to deal with it, after all.
And now I was here to help him.
Back by his bed he took my hand again and drew me to him.
‘You didn’t answer. Does it stop you being attracted to me?’ he asked. ‘Look at it, take it in, tell me.’
I made myself look at his poor poor stump again.
The thigh had been heavily dressed.
‘My thigh was only superficially damaged,’ Patrick said. ‘But they had to dress it to stem the bleeding. Amazing, isn’t it? That part of it could be so completely wrecked
while the rest remained intact. They even found the bag I was carrying – I had bottles of beer in it. Completely unscathed. Yet my lower leg was well and truly fucked.’
I forced myself not to flinch as I looked at it.
‘They say I’ll need quite a lot of practice to get back on my feet . . . foot, I mean.’
He smiled ruefully and I wondered if he was on some sort of sedative or painkiller that prevented him from feeling the full force of this trauma – its implications for the rest of his
life. The little curves that held his mouth in parenthesis twitched.
‘I can’t manage on my own like this. They keep asking me, “But don’t you have anyone who can come and help? Isn’t there
anyone
?” And I keep telling
them, well, it’s really hard to remember. I know I had mates, because I was
young or old who crossed his path. I should be careful!
He squinted up at me.
‘I can’t stop thinking about that bastard. How could he have done a thing like that, and not stop? They must have known. Don’t you think? You couldn’t bash into someone
even on a dark road and not realise you’d caused a life-bloody-changing injury to someone?’
He spread his arms, to frame the legs that were stretched out stiff beneath the covers.
Then, with a flourish, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he threw the sheet off.
‘Look at this.’
I don’t know what I’d been expecting.
A cast, perhaps. Some kind of dressing certainly.
Not this.
I tried to take a breath. No air went in.
My hands went up to my face. I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to look. Didn’t want him to show me this. The room spun. I’d gone hot. Everything fizzed. I was going to
faint.
‘No,’ I heard myself say. ‘No!’
Both of his legs were bandaged. But one of them was dressed only as far as the knee.
The rest of the leg, from the knee down, was missing.
‘Come on. It’s OK. I’m alright.’ His words seemed to come to me from far away.
I squinted through my fingers. He was gazing at me, questioningly. ‘It won’t make you fancy me any less, will it, Ellie?’
I needed to get away. I rushed back across the ward and asked for the hospital toilets. I reached them just in time to throw up. In the mirror my face was the same colour as the pale walls. I
threw cold water at it. Then I stood, clutching the cool porcelain of the basin for I don’t know how long. I was trembling uncontrollably. I wanted to run away as far as I could. Turn back
the clock, never drive alone to Suffolk, never listen to the radio, start to think that I might have hit someone, visit them in the hospital. I didn’t do it, I couldn’t have done. It
was a bird. But they hadn’t caught the person who had done it and I was on the road at the right time, and . . . now this!
It was as bad as if I’d killed him.
Worse?
I had to go to the police, as I should have done straight away, and say I was afraid I was responsible for this man’s atrocious injuries.
My whole life, the one I’d been anticipating as I set off for Southwold that April night, free of Finn, painting for galleries, going for weekends in the country with Pepper, that whole
vision wobbled like a mirage before it vanishes.
I stood for a little longer.
Then I began to breathe a little more steadily, to force myself to take some action. I had to confront this. It put me in a position of responsibility, being given this information. I had to be
brave, I had to be adult. Patrick had to deal with it, after all.
And now I was here to help him.
Back by his bed he took my hand again and drew me to him.
‘You didn’t answer. Does it stop you being attracted to me?’ he asked. ‘Look at it, take it in, tell me.’
I made myself look at his poor poor stump again.
The thigh had been heavily dressed.
‘My thigh was only superficially damaged,’ Patrick said. ‘But they had to dress it to stem the bleeding. Amazing, isn’t it? That part of it could be so completely wrecked
while the rest remained intact. They even found the bag I was carrying – I had bottles of beer in it. Completely unscathed. Yet my lower leg was well and truly fucked.’
I forced myself not to flinch as I looked at it.
‘They say I’ll need quite a lot of practice to get back on my feet . . . foot, I mean.’
He smiled ruefully and I wondered if he was on some sort of sedative or painkiller that prevented him from feeling the full force of this trauma – its implications for the rest of his
life. The little curves that held his mouth in parenthesis twitched.
‘I can’t manage on my own like this. They keep asking me, “But don’t you have anyone who can come and help? Isn’t there
anyone
?” And I keep telling
them, well, it’s really hard to remember. I know I had mates, because I was
Similar Books
