Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 826 by Angharad

By the time we got home, it was too late to go back to bed–for me at any rate–Simon did and I hope he slept well. I instead got stuck into making bread and doing some chores. I tidied the kitchen and mopped the floor, then when it was dry, did some ironing. A quick cuppa and some toast and it was time to get the girls up–thank goodness they’d slept through the intrusion.

As I brought them downstairs, Tom emerged and asked about the noises in the night. I told him I’d tell him later. He noticed the broken window and asked me to get someone in to replace it. I told him I would.

The bread was ready as the girls finished their cereals, so we had hot bread with butter and jam on it–lovely. I made their sandwiches and they pulled their coats on, all three of them–it was Mima’s first day in nursery, courtesy of our Russian friends. I would collect her at lunchtime for the first week, then she’d be there all day. I think she was ready for it, so did she.

The headmistress was pleased to see us back and she made a fuss of the girls. I got Mima settled in her nursery class and escaped for a couple of hours. I actually went home and slept. I know you’re asking what did I drive? I used Stella’s car, which wasn’t as nice as my little Golf.

I had wakened Simon and asked him to sort out the window and the cars, before I crawled up to bed for two hour’s sleep. I zonked for one of them, then woke with a weird dream and a need to wee. I dozed after that, though I couldn’t recall any of the dream.

Simon had been busy and he went to get Mima at lunchtime whilst Stella and I got lunch. Puddin’ was sitting up and chewing on everything, and she had a bit of a cold. It was a sure sign she was teething, and Stella reported she’d had a couple of broken nights. She was already rolling about when we put her on the floor, Puddin’ that is, not Stella–she only does that when she’s drunk.

Mima made a huge fuss of me when she came home and, showed me a painting she’d done. It went up on the wall alongside those of Trish and Livvie and she was very pleased with herself. After lunch she had a snooze and, and so did I while Simon took his sister to see their dad. I was really pleased that Puddin’ snoozed as well.

I awoke when the doorbell rang, it was some bloke delivering a car–an Audi A3, and guess what? It was for me. I admit I’d have preferred the TT, but I’d probably have lost my licence by Christmas. This was apparently a lease car. I signed the forms and the man left. It was black and very shiny and I couldn’t wait to drive it.

Tom was going to get the girls from school, he had a hire car at the moment, and was interested in getting another Mondeo estate, he’d really liked my father’s one, which was only two years old. Daddy had just bought it when he had the stroke. So we were getting our lives back to normal. Henry wouldn’t need a car for a couple of weeks, by which time Simon’s Jaguar would be back from the repair shop. As the Jaguar dealership has its overdraft with High St Bank PLC, I suspect they would pull out the stops with Simon’s car. Although, I saw somewhere that Jaguar were doing very well in India, China and the UK.

While I was staring out of the window at my new set of wheels, I saw that the garden shed needed some repair work done–Leon had a project for the weekend.

The next thing was a glazier’s van arriving, and I made the two blokes a cuppa while they replaced the broken double glazed unit. Then before I could say anything, they started doing the back door. This time, with a door with a small window in it, and that was made of toughened glass. They were finishing as Tom brought the two girls back and he was quite pleased with the result–it was just as well, they asked him for a cheque to pay for it. He shrugged his shoulders and paid up.

Tom took over the children after I’d made him some tea, so I could get the evening meal ready–a pile of pork chops, with new potatoes, carrots, swede or neeps as Tom calls them and some broccoli. I had some profiteroles with ice cream for dessert, so I knew the girls would eat something.

Simon brought Stella home about six, she looked upset. “What’s the problem?” I asked when she came through to the kitchen.

“Daddy, the second bullet is lodged in his spine, they’ll have to operate and he could end up paraplegic.”

I was devastated, I hadn’t picked up on that at all, mind you I was trying to keep him alive for the surgeons to play with. “Is he awake?”

“Barely, they’re keeping him sedated to try and stop him moving about and doing more damage. They want him to go to Southampton as soon as possible.”

“I thought the spinal unit was at Salisbury, at Odstock Hospital.”

“Yeah, but the neurological one is at Southampton.”

“Okay, once we’ve eaten, if someone can put the girls to bed, I’ll go and see if I can help him.”

“They did ask where you were.”

“I doubt my skills would extend to extracting a bullet from someone’s spine, though maybe I can help to prepare him for the op and to recover afterwards.”

I began to dish out the food, and carried it through to the dining room to a table Livvie and Trish had laid with cutlery and condiments. Simon had a small bottle of beer and Tom a glass of wine–I suppose he needed it after paying the bill to the glazing company. I did offer to give him some of it–I did feel a bit responsible–but he wouldn’t hear of it. Tomorrow, I would do some survey work, if I got a chance.

I left Stella to clear up and drove myself in my shiny new car to the QAH, to see Henry. He was heavily sedated, but the nurse recognised me and allowed me to sit with him. They considered that he was making so much progress that they’d be able to move him from ICU to High Dependency in a day or so.

I sat by the side of him and held his hand, immediately the energy raced down my arm. I’d never felt it like this before, then before I could say or do anything, my other hand was pulled towards him. It actually felt as if someone had hold of it and was drawing it and me towards Henry. My heart was racing but my body wasn’t obeying my commands, it was like it was some form of robot with me inside getting a little frightened.

In a moment I was kneeling on the floor and my right hand was drawn under Henry’s body. Thankfully, he was on a ripple mattress so it depressed to let my hand and then my arm in. It was under the middle of Henry’s back, with my palm against his skin. The side of the bed was sticking in my right boob and it was hurting enough to make my eyes water. Whatever was holding my arm was pulling quite hard.

Then my hand got very hot again, and after several minutes I honestly thought I was going to faint or pass out. I was so hot and my hand felt on fire–much more of this and I’d be getting third degree burns. I was weeping, my hand was hurting so much, then I felt some fluid and then a small hard object and whatever was holding me let go and I fell onto the floor, almost in a faint.

I must have knocked over the chair as I went because the next thing I know, I have a nurse helping me up and as she did so, I dropped something on the floor.

“What’s that?” she asked and bent down to recover it. I was now alert–sort of–and drinking some of the bottle of water I’d taken in with me. She held it up to the light. “It looks like a bullet, where did this come from?”

“I think you’d better send for Mr Nicholls,” I said and smiled weakly.

“Let me get this right, something grabbed your arm and put it under Lord Henry’s back, it got very hot and the bullet fell out by itself?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t a game is it? Some sort of wind up?” demanded Mr Nicholls.

“Why would I play games with you? Besides, Henry is family, so I wouldn’t do anything to harm him.”

“I see; so you’re trying to tell me this just magically erupted through his skin?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me,” said the surgeon and ordered an X-ray, immediately. “You stay there,” he instructed and pointed to the chair.