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CHAPTERNINE
Sounds were the first thing to come back. A rattling noise like a trolley rolling across the floor, the beeping of a machine, regular and rhythmic; hurried footsteps on an uncarpeted surface. George knew he was no longer sliding down the door in Millie’s apartment.
Smells came next. Uncertain disinfectant mingled strangely with jasmine and rose masking notes of sickness, even putrefaction. Where the hell was he?
George tried to open his eyes and failed. Someone had glued them shut. He could feel his own lashes pulling against each other as he attempted to prise his eyelids apart. He groaned.
‘Georgie, my love.’ His mum’s voice. He felt the touch of a hand on his. His mother was nearby. That was the smell of rose. Her perfume. What was she doing here? What was he doing here? Where was here?
His mouth was dry. He wanted to speak, ask questions, but his tongue seemed swollen to twice its normal size, and glued to his top palate. All he could manage was another groan which forced itself out of his nose, causing vibrations in his face. His skull still hurt.
‘Mrs Halcyon?’
Who’s that?Startled by the sound of a new voice, George tried to turn towards it. Nothing happened. All brain to body messages ignored by his body. He was still out of control, but he thought the voice was familiar. He knew he liked whoever it was. She spoke again.
‘Mrs Halcyon, do ye think we should call a nurse? I think George is coming round.’
Ye instead of you, a soft, precise lilt, a rolled r. He knew who it was.
His mum replied. ‘Yes, lovie. You’re right.’
‘I’ll go fetch someone.’ A chair scraped the floor.
George wanted to shout, don’t go. He wanted to sit up and speak, open his eyes and look at Millie.
‘Right then, what have we going on here?’ An officious male voice joined the party.
‘We think he’s regaining consciousness, doctor,’ his mum said.
Millie added, ‘He’s been restless, just a little. Like he’s trying to move, and he’s groaned.’
‘Yes, twice,’ his mum finished for Millie.
‘Let’s have a look, shall we.’ There was the sound of chairs moving. The air around George seemed different to him, less still. He sensed someone breathing quite close by. Someone he didn’t know. Then there were fingers on his face and one of his eyes was suddenly open, forced by a stranger’s finger and thumb, and George stared at a man a few years older than himself. He could see the man was in hospital scrubs–blue, and had dark shadows under his eyes, as if he’d not had enough sleep for a very long time. He held a pencil torch in one hand while his other still held George’s eye open. The light was blinding.
‘Hmm, yes… good,’ the man said, blinking into George’s one eye. Then he released his hold and darkness fell again as George’s eyelid plopped back into place.
‘Is he coming to, doctor?’
‘Yes, Mrs Halcyon. I think he is. Still drowsy and weak. He’s probably through the worst now, but he’s going to feel terrible for a few days.’
‘How long will he have to stay in the hospital?’ Millie asked.
‘Hard to say at the moment. Three days, maybe more. Frankly, after the beating he took; I’m surprised he was walking around at all.’
‘Thank you, doctor.’
George thought his mum sounded beaten herself. At least Millie was there. Millie would be a support to her. Even if she no longer liked him, he was sure Millie would be kind to his mother.
‘Can we stay with him?’ Millie asked.
‘Yes, of course. But you both should try to take a break. It’s been a shock.’
‘Aye, it has that.’
Movement of air, the sound of chairs being rearranged, George knew he was once more alone with the two most important women in his life. He wished he could say something, but the wires between the control deck in his brain and the rest of him still seemed to be cut. He was out of control and drifted off into sleep to the gentle sound of Millie and his mum talking. He hoped his mum wouldn’t say anything too embarrassing.
Later,he was not sure how much later, the lack of voices woke him. He could still hear the rhythmic beeping of a medical machine nearby, but the earlier movement of trollies and people had ceased. It felt late. It was dark, but then, of course, he thought it would be. His eyes were closed.
