Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 827 by Angharad

I sat down and folded my arms, while a porter and a nurse took the bed complete with Henry, down to Diagnostic Imaging. Talk about feeling fed up–I felt like someone who’d been caught scrumping apples by a neighbour. I only did that once and got a hiding for it from my dad. In some circumstances, negative feedback seems to work–or it did for me: you could say it made an honest woman of me. I sniggered at my own joke, which showed how bored I was.

Ken Nicholls came in holding the piece of lead I’d dropped when I fell over and the nurse had retrieved. “I’ve just shown this to a colleague, who’s an ex-army surgeon, he said it was a bullet which had hit something hard, like bone.”

“So?” I offered defensively.

“So where did it come from?”

“I told you.” I sighed, he didn’t believe me–mind you, I was there and I didn’t believe me.

“You realise if what you’re saying is true–it blows accepted science and medical theory apart.”

“I happen to be a scientist,” I threw back at him.

“Not just a pretty face then?”

“Not even one, no–but scientist, yes. I teach at the university.”

“Golly, a real scientist, and there I was assuming that the most difficult decision you had to make was which flunky you wanted to peel you a grape.”

“You patronising arsehole, how dare you? I run a house with four children and four adults as well as work. I don’t have any help except from the family.”

“Oh, I seem to have misunderstood–I apologise. I thought you were an heiress to the Cameron millions.”

“Simon might be, but we’re all very down to earth, besides, why should I give up my career when it isn’t absolutely necessary?

“Quite. So what do you teach?”

“I’m a field biologist cum ecologist.”

“So you have some idea of what is going on inside these bodies you–um–work on?”

“It’s a while since I did all that sort of stuff, but yes, I do have some idea.”

“So you would understand that what has happened here is impossible?”

“With regard to current theory, yes.”

“So is this some sort of trick? To keep up your credibility, perhaps?”

“Credibility? What credibility? I don’t believe in it all, so what credibility have I got to maintain? I don’t want these things happening around me–it’s like something out of a Hammer Horror film.”

“Come off it–you’re enjoying every minute of it, making people better, beating the doctors–real ego stuff.”

“Mr Nicholls, I don’t know how old you are...”

“Thirty eight, why?”

“Because you seem to have a great deal of maturing to do. Maybe they should lock you in cave under the Mendips–it seems to work for cheese. I am going home.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he stood in front of the door barring my exit.

“Are you going to include false imprisonment to the other social niceties you offer the public here?”

“I’d like you to wait for the results of the X-rays.”

“Why?”

“So I can prove your little trick didn’t work.”

“I see. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you it isn’t a trick, it’s what happened.”

“So if I asked you to see the chap in the next cubicle, you could sort out his aneurysm, could you?”

“Why should I?”

Before he could reply his mobile rang–“It’s got to be there, do an MRI, just find it.”

“Problems?” I asked sweetly.

“No, they’ll find it.”

“You have it in your hand. I didn’t think they could use an MRI for scanning metal things.”

“This small is okay.”

“If I’m going to be held prisoner here, then I’d like a cup of tea.”

“Ah, now we have the aristocratic wife asserting herself--fetch me a cup of tea wench.

“I can’t go through the door because Nichollsian, the densest, rudest, stupidest substance known to man is in my way. If it wasn’t, I should go up to the cafeteria and buy myself a cup of tea.”

“If you promise to come back down, I could move aside.”

“Why should I promise you anything, except a law suit?”

“Because you like masterful men and you love proving them wrong.”

“I’ve already won the argument, unless I can suddenly apport pieces of lead.”

“See you even have the words you need, how many people know the word, apport?”

“I have no idea, but it has been suggested that generally people with degrees and a university education have a marginally wider vocabulary than the oiks who go to medical school.”

“Well, that puts me in my place, sorry, I should have touched me forelock before challenging you.”

“Quite honestly, I’d have thought touching your foreskin was much more in your line. Now I’d like to go for that cuppa before they close the cafeteria.”

He blushed and laughed as I pushed past him. While I was of the same opinion that moving a piece of shrapnel through tissue without cutting things was so unlikely as to be impossible, I was now hoping that we were both wrong. If only to prove him to be a kingsize idiot.

I sat there, just a few people occupying the other tables, feeling very tired and irritable. It was after nine and I should be home now, unwinding and getting ready for bed. Instead I was wasting my time drinking tea I didn’t really need while they did a scan on my future father in law. My mobile rang–it was Simon.

“How’s it going, Babes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Whaddya mean, don’t know?”

“As I said, I don’t know. I’ve just had a huge argument with the trauma surgeon, who is the rudest, most arrogant doctor I have ever met...”

“He does apologise in person though.” A voice interrupted me.

“I’ll call you back,” I said closing down my phone and shoving it back in my bag.

He placed a mug of tea down on the table. “They can’t find it–it looks like I owe you an apology.”

“You have it in your hand.”

“My pocket.” He reached in a pulled it out. “I’ve looked at Lord Cameron and there isn’t a mark on him. So how the hell did you do it?”

“I don’t know, I’ve told you what happened, I’m not repeating myself again.”

“This is solid metal–it can’t move through skin and bone and other tissue without some exit wound. There isn’t one.”

“I’ve got it: he never was shot and what you have in your hand is a loose filling from one of his teeth. There, now it makes sense.”

“Lady Cameron, you can’t just dismiss this as if it never happened. This is the most exciting moment in medical science since–I dunno–Pasteur discovered bugs.”

“For you maybe, for me, I shall deny all knowledge of it. Once Henry is out of here, I plan to never ever set foot in the place, ever again.”

“Lady C, you can’t just ignore it–this could save lives, it is so exciting.”

“Please, don’t tell anyone of this–if you do, I shall deny it and sue you for slander or libel or both or defamation or all three.” I stood up, “Good night Mr Nicholls, I hope our paths never cross again.” I stepped around him and walked out of the cafeteria back down to ICU. Henry was awake but very sleepy.

“Hi, Henry.”

“Cathy?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What am I doing in here? I’ve had the strangest dreams...”