‘He says he’s friends with the son of the President of Cyprus, and if I don’t bring you in, I’ll lose my job.’
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The idea of sitting in an ambulance with Mark reeking of booze and chlorine is beyond me right now.
I clutch Yan’s hand, and he tightens his arm around me.
Tig stands up. ‘The man you are taking to the hospital just took a blow to the head.’ She crosses her arms. ‘Do you honestly think he knows the President’s son?’
The paramedic scratches the back of his head.
Theo enters, looking concerned. ‘If you swallowed a lot of chlorinated water, you ought to be checked out.’
I turn to Yan for help.
‘You guys go in the ambulance – I’ll bring Nella in the car.’
This seems to placate everyone, so the paramedic and Theo join Mark in the ambulance, and seconds later, we hear the bite of its tyres on the gravel.
I sit down at the kitchen table at exactly the same time as Yan stands.
‘Don’t get comfortable. I’m getting the car keys, and then we’re going.’
‘I don’t need to go to hospital. My throat is sore, that’s all.’ I clear it, trying to dislodge something. ‘I just need a glass of water.’
‘You arenotfine.’
‘Yes, I am,’ I insist, getting up and running the tap. ‘I am one hundred per cent fine.’
There’s a beat while Yan tries to think of an argument to convince me.
Except he doesn’t need one, because the next moment I’ve thrown up all over the sink.
Pen and Tig, who’ve been outside to see off the ambulance, enter the kitchen just as I’m on round two of vomiting.
One comes to hold my hair while the other rubs small circles on my back. I’m too weak to turn to see who’s doing what. My legs are shaking, and I’m delirious from adrenaline.
After a few moments, the nausea has subsided, and Yan is back with his car keys.
He wraps another fleece around my shoulders – one of his, I assume – and we pile into the rental car.
‘Wait,’ shouts Pen, just before we set off. ‘Should we bring a bowl or something? We don’t want to get sick all over Mario’s car.’
Everyone looks at me, but I’m too exhausted to respond.
‘Better safe than sorry,’ she decides, and runs back to the house.
We’ve been in the hospital waiting room for about thirty minutes. I’ve been triaged, and the nurse who admitted us thinks the wait will be at least three hours. I’m not urgent, it seems, which is reassuring, I suppose, but doesn’t that also mean I’d be fine if we just left?
Tig went in search of a snack machine, and returned with a mini packet of orange-flavoured Papadopoulos biscuits, my favourite when I was a kid. But I can’t eat anything – my throat is burning from all the frenzied shouts for help, chlorine and vomiting.
She’s off again, trying to find drinks, but I suspect she’s really trying to locate Theo.
I’ve almost dozed off when she suddenly appears with Theo by her side. My pulse kicks up; he’ll have news of Mark.
‘How are you feeling, Nella?’ he asks.
I nod and smile. ‘I’m okay.’ I try not to wince as my throat cracks.
‘How’s Mark?’ asks Yan.
