Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 821 by Angharad

The next two hours were awful, Simon and I gave a statement to the police about what had happened. Simon was also cautioned, until it transpired the assassin had turned to fire at him and ridden under the front of a truck coming the other way. The bike had shot out like a snooker ball and bashed the front of his car–hence the damage. The truck driver had stopped and after Simon explained and the police were called, he slipped away to see what had happened to Henry. The gun was still in the motorcyclist’s hand–what was left of it. The police described it as mince meat. Simon who was without any sympathy, said he was glad the man was very dead.

After the police left, we waited and waited. We even got the A&E reception to take my mobile number and call us if they heard anything from theatre–Henry was in emergency surgery. We’d gone off to the hospital cafeteria for a drink and were sitting in the public area, me feeling very scruffy with a torn skirt, when I felt someone walk up behind me. Given the experience I’d just had, to say I was nervous would be an understatement.

Simon showed no agitation, so I relaxed a little. “Excuse me,” said a male voice, “are you the lady who rode with me with the gentleman with the bullet wounds.”

I looked around to see one of the paramedics standing behind me. It was the one with whom I’d ridden. “Yes, that was me.”

“D’you mind if I sit here a moment?” he said indicating the empty chair.

“No,” I responded feeling a little apprehensive.

He seated himself and putting his mug of tea on the table asked, “How did you start his heart?”

“With the defib, same as you would have.”

“Yeah, except the defib was saying, that no one was at home anymore.”

“Obviously it changed its mind, maybe it’s a female one.”

His mouth laughed but his eyes didn’t. “And what was that blue stuff?”

“What blue stuff?” I acted dumb.

“Look, I know I had some sort of seizure when you touched me.”

“You didn’t, you were fine throughout.”

“So how come I didn’t see you start his heart?”

“I don’t know, how many hours had you worked?”

“Five or six, why?”

“Perhaps you were tired?”

“Not true, I was okay one moment trying to save someone who seemed to have died, I went all blank and the next moment he’s got a heartbeat and you’re touching him with this blue stuff.”

“Nah, I don’t think so, did you bang your head? I mean if you blanked or even blacked out–wouldn’t that mean you had some sort of fit? Wouldn’t that mean you couldn’t drive or do your job?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, but the implications with a possible seizure are suspension of driving licence, aren’t they?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Good gracious no, I told you, I used the defib while you were having a little rest, you looked very tired and then I helped by talking to my father-in-law while you stopped his wounds bleeding. Incidentally, I think you two’s prompt actions are what saved his life and my husband Simon, Lord Cameron, will be writing to ask that you be commended for dealing so professionally with his father’s injuries–especially, as you didn’t know if the shooter was still about or not. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Absolutely, darling, I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Simon gave no indication that I’d kicked his shin under the table.

The paramedic smiled, “Okay, off the record, what did you do to me?”

“Moi?” I sat back in mock surprise.

Simon laughed and the paramedic narrowed his eyes at me, “Look, I don’t know if you’re some kind of witch...” at this Simon nodded so I kicked him again, “but I reckon you’re responsible for this blank I had.”

“On or off the record, if I were you, I’d let it lie, because if you let it be known you blacked out and then hallucinated, seeing whatever the blue stuff was supposed to be, they’ll suspend you, won’t they?”

“Did I black out then?”

“I don’t know, I was too busy worrying about Henry.”

“Should I report myself, I mean if it happened, it could happen again with disastrous consequences.”

“You take your job very seriously, don’t you?” I asked rhetorically.

“Of course I do.”

“Then relax, I can tell you with total confidence, it shouldn’t happen again.”

“You were responsible?”

“I can’t say anything about that.”

“But you did do something extra to him, didn’t you?”

“I thought we’d agreed to forget about it?”

“How can I? If I knew what you did, maybe I could replicate it and save lives.”

“You won’t,” added Simon, “You see, my wife, is really an angel.”

The paramedic looked at us both very suspiciously, then standing up said, “You’re both barmy,” and he walked away in disgust. Simon looked at me and smirked.

“I think you are, okay, usually it’s the angel of death, but occasionally...” my mobile rang interrupting him.

“Yes?” I spoke into the phone.

“Cathy, it’s Sam Rose, I think Henry could use some of that special TLC you do.”

“How do you know?”

“One of the nurses recognised you and called me.”

“Where do I go?”

“ICU, I think you know the way.”

I gulped my last swig of tea, Simon was already up and ready to go. “ICU, it’s not good,” he’d grabbed my hand before the words were out of my mouth and a moment later we were trotting then dashing across the hall towards the unit.

Sam was waiting as we arrived, “He’s in here.” He led us to a cubicle and I felt very anxious. I’d nearly died in this unit and I’d seen Tom and Meems in here too.

“Hello, Lady Cameron, I’m Ken Nicholls, trauma surgeon; we’ve managed to stop the bleeding and repaired an artery that was nicked by one of the shots. How he’s still alive, I have no idea. He’s on his second unit of blood and it’s up to the gods and your special skills–I’ve done all I can.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Up to you now, Cathy,” Sam’s voice was ringing in my ears.

“Oh shit!” I mumbled as I walked to the bedside–was it going to work this time?