Crossing The Line Chapter 21 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The next day arrived, and not much had changed. A dishevelled Dave and jumpy Jenny came and sat with their younger child. Neither had eaten anything – they hadn’t felt like it, and seemed to be living on pots of tea. Even Maddy had noticed and had tried to hint via Jules, her concerns about the elder Bonds. Jules had in turn spoken with each parent, both of whom gave her a hug, and told her, “I’m alright, just a bit off my food at the moment.” She sighed, and walked away. Now she was worried, everyone in the family but she seemed either ill or under the weather. She decided she would have to keep an eye on them, both looked haggard and exhausted. She understood why, Gaby was still very ill, and this nutter, the one who’d bashed John, her luvverly, wuvverly, gorgeous John, was at large again. So they were worried, very worried.

“Why don’t Maddy and me, go and sit with Gabs ‘n’ give you the morning off? Auntie Carol could drop us off at the hospital?”

“Maddy and I, sweetheart,” corrected Jenny, “It’s kind of you to offer, but she still seems to sleep most of the time. Perhaps, when she wakes up a bit more.”

“You’re still very worried aren’t you?” persisted Jules.

“Of course I am, we’re not out of the woods yet, though the doctors feel pretty confident about the prognosis,” Jenny smiled, her lips parting a little, however, Jules noticed her eyes were dull with fatigue and not sparkling as they normally did when she smiled. “So now you know as much as I do,” Jenny lied and Jules knew it.

“Well if I can’t help you, can I see John?” asked Jules, hoping past sins would be forgiven.

“I’m not sure I can trust you…” said Jenny, “…after the other day…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson there,” said Jules, “Please say, I can.”

“I don’t know...” hesitated her mother.

“Please, can he come here then?”

“I don’t know…” Jenny paused, “He can come if you promise me not to do anything stupid, and you know exactly what I mean, and your Auntie Carol is in the house.”

“Yes, anything, thanks Mum,” she hugged and kissed her mother.

“I haven’t finished yet…” said Jenny firmly. Jules sighed. “You stay downstairs, not up in the bedrooms. “

“Yeah, I mean no, Mum. Thank you, thank you.” Jules bounced with glee, an excitement that Jenny found irritating, but she bit her tongue.

“What’s she so excited about?” asked Dave as they got in the car.

“Nothing dear, you know what teenage girls are like?” said Jenny, making light of it. Dave looked at her, saw the tiredness in her face, and didn’t push things.

After a nondescript journey, they found a nearby parking space and ten minutes later were in the ICU. They were a bit later than usual, through oversleeping, and the consultant had been and gone. Maureen greeted them and explained the most recent analysis of the gunk from Drew’s lungs had indicated a new drug, which they had given intravenously.

The Bonds had settled either side of the bed, too tired to talk, just holding Drew’s hands and occasionally stroking or squeezing them. An hour or so passed when a little voice asked, “Cani’ve a drink?”

Jenny, who was nearly nodding off to sleep jumped up and banged her knee on the bed, then squeaked because it hurt. This in turn woke Dave who had nodded and he wondered where he was for a moment.

“Here you are, sweetie,” said Jenny, limping over to the bedside locker to get the drink and held it for Drew.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” asked Dave, noticing Jenny’s limp. He realised Drew was awake. “Hello flower,” he chirped to Drew, feeling the boy looked more alert than previously.

After he’d taken several sips from the straw, Drew smiled at both of them, “Where am I?”

Jenny who was nearer gave him the answer. “You’re in Dorset County Hospital.”

“Why? Asked the bemused boy.

“You were brought in very sick, young lady. You nearly died.” Jenny felt a need to explain the gravity of the situation.

“Nah, you’re joking,” said Drew, “I heard lots of people talking, you and Dad and Jules and Mad, even Auntie Carol. Some strange voices and I think Ben, the copper. He said something about my bike being under the bed. Can I ride it home?”

“Not tonight Josephine,” said Dave, finding a way to be included in the conversation.

“Why not?” asked Drew, who sat himself up and began to cough. The cough sounded loser, and Jenny passed him the pot for him to spit. He did, looked at the mucus, and said, “Yuck!”

“Well young lady, according to the doctors, you went swimming, nearly drowned yourself, and swallowed a lot of dirty water. It upset your lungs, hence the hmm,” said Dave, indicating the pot. Drew looked puzzled, then coughed some more.

“When did I go swimming?” he asked his parents.

“A couple, no three days ago they think you fell into a river. Somebody pulled you out and flagged down a passing car…and here you are.” Dave offered a potted history as he knew them.

“What was I doing near a river?” asked Drew.

“That we don’t know, nor do we know who rescued you,” continued Dave, “It appears you rode out to Wareham and had a bacon roll, it rained very heavily for several hours, and we think you must have been trying to cross a stream or something, and slipped in, probably because you were wearing cleats.”

“I can’t remember,” said Drew, closing his eyes, “I can’t remember anything.” The latter was said with a voice that faded at the end of the sentence as he slipped back into sleep. He coughed and woke himself up, whereupon he looked completely confused at his parents and all around him. It took him several moments to recognise where he was. Then he smiled at his parents and went back to sleep.

Maureen appeared and despite their protests, sent them off for a coffee break, “And don’t forget to have something to eat, because if you don’t, I won’t let you back in.” She sounded very ferocious, but the twinkle in her eyes said otherwise.

She then went to look at Drew’s catheter; as she emptied the bag from the stand on the side of the bed, Drew awoke. Maureen happened to look up and saw him watching her, “Hello sleepyhead.”

“Who are you?” asked Drew, seeing her bending down by the side of his bed.

“I’m Maureen, your nurse. I have chatted to you ever since you’ve been here, but until now, you’ve been asleep.”

“I know, I have heard you, well some of what you said. Where’s my mum and dad?”

“I sent them off to get something to eat and drink. I thought they needed a little sustenance. They didn’t want to leave you, Gaby, but I insisted. That’s an unusual name, Gaby, is it short for something?”

“Gabrielle,” answered Drew.

“Did you choose it ?” asked Maureen.
“No.” Drew stopped for a moment and reflected on what she had just said. His brain was active enough to realise she knew the truth about him. Well, she was nursing him, so, of course, she would. “My original second name was Gabriel, and it sort of happened when I did a bike race with Mum in fancy dress. She went as Xena and I was Gaby, her side kick, it sort of stuck after that.”

“Don’t you like it, then?” Maureen sensed some unease in the child.

“It’s alright, I suppose……got sort of used to it…..everybody knows it, so it’s okay.”

“You can always change it if you want to,” suggested Maureen, “Would you like to?”

“Dunno,” said Drew, really his mind was screaming, “I just want to be a boy called Drew,” but it came out as, “No, I suppose it’s okay. It’s not a girly name is it?”

“Would that matter, if you’re a girl anyway?” asked Maureen, probing him deeper than he was comfortable answering. He felt he needed to be careful, he’d stick with his story about, ‘wanting to be a girl’, but only until he got home.

“Dunno, never thought about it.”

“So you don’t think you’d like to be a Felicity or Priscilla ?” probed, Maureen, thinking of the most feminine-sounding girl's names she could.

“No thanks, I’ll stick with Gaby,” smiled Drew.

“I think you might be right!” said Maureen, smiling broadly at him. He smiled back, he was obviously feeling better today, his eyes sparkled as he smiled. “How could this be a boy?” Maureen asked herself, “he is far too pretty to be a boy, and his body has a better shape than half the teenage girls I know. I think you’re doing the right thing kid,” she said to herself. Drew coughed and Maureen handed him the receiver, the spell was broken.

He asked for a drink and she handed him some fruit squash, he drank it down quickly and asked for some more. “If you’re going to be drinking this much, I think we might be able to pull out the drips later on today, and the monitors can go too. You look much better today.”

“I think, I feel better; when can I go home?” said Drew, hoping the answer would be, ‘soon’.

“I don’t know young lady, that’s up to the doctor. If he thinks you’re doing well enough, he’ll probably transfer you to another ward, and if you continue the progress, they’ll decide then.”

“But I need to get back on my bike. I’ve got championships to defend,” he said, then began to cough.

“You won’t get very far until all that’s come up. From what I know of racing cyclists, they need good lung capacity. Yours are still full of rubbish, which needs to be cleared up, so you won’t be back on your bike for a week or two, that’s for sure.”

Drew sat back despondent. He coughed again, and once more spat out the horrible mucus into the paper pot, it was a little more from his lungs, which was the only good news. He still felt very tired and yawned, but he resisted the temptation to sleep again. He practiced breathing as deeply as he could and then held his breath. It made him cough, and up came some more muck. Maureen caught him at it, on one hand, she admired his pluck on the other, she had to stop him in case he damaged himself. “Don’t try to rush things, Gaby, you’ll make everything take longer because you’re going faster than your body wants to. You are likely to hurt your lungs, and that could affect your later career.”

Drew thought about what she said, he wasn’t convinced, but he was uncertain enough to feel he’d better do as she said. He lay back, feeling quite dizzy after his hyperventilation, he was still attached to the oxygen line and drifted off to sleep again.

Two minutes later his parents reappeared. “What a pity, she was awake for ten or fifteen minutes just a few minutes ago. We had quite a little chat.”

“Trust us to miss it,” said Jenny, with almost a hint of resignation.

“I’m sure she’ll be awake again soon. She seems to have made good progress today, so she may be shifted to a medical ward, quite soon.”

“Oh,” said Jenny, “Is that wise?”

“Yes, when she does go from here, it will be because she’s well enough not because of cost.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Dave.

“About a thousand pounds a day,” said Maureen.

“Gee whizz,” said Dave, as much as that?”

“If she was on all the machines, and required more nursing input, it could be two or three times that, depending on drugs needed and other specialist services. Intensive care is very expensive.”

“I knew that, but just didn’t know how expensive. Thank God, it’s NHS, if we were in the States, I reckon this would have eaten up any insurance we’d be likely to have.”

“Possibly,” responded Maureen, “I suppose it would depend upon your level of cover and financial resources.”

“Wow,” said Dave, shaking his head, “Let’s hear it for the good ole NHS!”

Back at the cottage, Jules was entertaining John. His head was no longer swathed in bandages, although he still had some bruising around his face. Maddy was helping Carol in the kitchen. John had been invited for lunch and Carol decided to be a bit more lavish than would normally happen. She had also decided it would be a good idea for Maddy to learn a few simple but effective recipes. They did a mushroom omelette with a side salad, and fruit pancakes, with fresh strawberries. John was suitably impressed, but Maddy wasn’t, cooking wasn’t her thing at all.

“I can’t understand you girl,” said Carol, “how can you not be interested in learning to cook? You seem to enjoy eating the proceeds.”

“I prefer sewing,” said Maddy feeling irritated by her mother’s insistence that she do something she didn’t like. “Jules doesn’t like cooking either, do you?” She aimed straight at the lovesick Bond.

“’S’alright, I s’pose,” said Jules with a shrug.

“Well, you complain about it often enough, having to do your bit.”

“Not as much as Dew…silla!” said Jules blushing.

“Who on earth is Drusilla?” asked John.

Blushing furiously, under Maddy’s steely gaze, Jules lied her way out, “Oh it’s just a pet name for Gaby.”

“I’m sure she’s fond of that,” said John sarcastically, “sounds like the name someone would give a cow or one of those funny, little hairbrushes that bark.”

“That’s absolutely right,” continued Jules spinning her tangled web, “Gaby said the same, but she’d been acting like a cow, so I thought it was quite fitting.”

“I thought you got on well with your sister?” said John, and Maddy nodded her head in agreement.

“Most of the time we do get on, but you know what it’s like, we squabble from time to time. She doesn’t do her share of the chores and I have to cover the shortfall or Dad gets cross. We fight over clothes ‘n’ things.”

“And boys?” threw in Maddy, deciding to see how far Jules would go with this fantasy.

“No, there’s no competition there. I prefer the more mature type…” Carol who had been sipping a cup of tea, began to cough as some went down the wrong way. Maddy stifled a snigger.

“… until recently, Gabs hasn’t been too interested in boys, although she seems to like this Harry kid.”

“Oh I don’t know,” said Maddy looking to stir, “what about James, she met at the Anime convention, and there’s Clive, who’s always chasing her, and Paul fancies her too. I mean half the school fancies her...let’s face it, she is the prettiest girl there. What do you think John?”

Jules gave Maddy a daggers stare, which Maddy ignored, pretending she hadn’t seen it. “She is a very pretty girl,” answered John, feeling Jules squeezing his hand so tight, it was hurting and in danger of becoming ischaemic.

“But of course, the one I love, is right here beside me, so how could I consider any other girl?” He looked at Jules and they both began to get a bit soppy-eyed. Maddy by this time had had enough, but decided not to say anything, she simply rose from the table and began collecting the dirty dishes, much to Carol’s surprise. Then she stormed out into the kitchen and began banging dishes and pots behind the closed door.

Carol collected the rest of the dirty crocks and took them out to the kitchen. Maddy saw her, then standing with hands on hips she hissed at her mother, “The lying cow, I could have slapped her one.”

“Just calm down girl, it’s her first big love, let her enjoy it while it lasts. It’ll come to grief, they always do.”

“Impugning my Gabs, next time I will slap her. Fancy not sticking up for your own sister? It’s rotten, selfish cow!”

“That’s enough Maddy, now are you going to wash or wipe?”

At the Palmer’s house, a frustrated Harry was clicking his heels. “When d’you think they’ll let me see her?” he asked his mother.

“I presume you mean your precious Gaby?”

“Aww Muuum, get real! Who else would I be talking about? Sometimes you are so thick!”

“Yes dear, I must have been to have had a bad-tempered, ill-mannered lump like you!”

“Very funny, I don’t think.” Harry sat with his arms folded and a frown on his face, which could have curdled fresh milk.

“In answer to your question, I don’t know,” said Mrs Palmer.

“What are you on about?” he asked her, rolling his eyes in semi-disbelief.

“You asked me when I thought they would let you see Gaby, and my answer was, I didn’t know because I don’t. I presume, given the story you heard from her friend Maddy, that she was very gravely ill, which leads me to speculate, that it will be sometime before she is home and entertaining friends.”

“Oh Geez- zus!” hissed Harry.

“Harry, I will not tolerate profanities or blasphemy, you know that!” she snapped at him.

Looking decidedly sheepish and blushing like a sun lamp, he apologised, it had slipped out, so great was his frustration. She forgave him and asked him if he was going out on his bike. She had lifted his grounding, having learned of his worry about Gaby’s disappearance and subsequent hospitalisation. Deciding it was the best option open, he went and changed and went for a ride.

A hostile pair of eyes that were watching the village, noted the fact of the boy setting off on his prize possession and began plotting some revenge. He felt for the rope coiled behind him.

Harry had been increasing the frequency and distance of his rides, he was showing some improvement nearly every time he went out, and he was also beginning to understand how Gaby seemed to get so much enjoyment from it. He was learning about cadence, getting into a rhythm. Gaby had tried to explain it to him, but until he experienced it, he hadn’t understood. Now he did.

He rode for an hour, covering about fifteen miles and two sizeable hills. He was definitely improving. Okay, not as good as a certain young woman he knew, but he was doing alright.

Harry concentrated on sprinting back into the village along the main street. The malevolent watcher readied himself, holding the thin rope, the other end of which had been secured around a lamppost. The boy was a hundred yards away and just around the corner, the ambusher pulled the rope up to about five feet above the ground and tied it off, he then slipped away back into the fields from whence he’d come.

Harry, nearly fell off his bike as the youth on the trail bike rushed past him at breakneck speed. The noise was deafening and had startled him, appearing so suddenly from behind. The motorbike, whizzed past, almost brushing against him, deliberately trying to frighten him. Harry recognised the rider and shouted abuse at him. Too late the youth, sped around the bend and Harry heard a strangled scream followed by a crash as the motorbike obviously hit a car or something. Harry sped off in pursuit, the sight that met his eyes made him fall off his bike, and throw up.

The motorcyclist was laying on his back, or his body was, the stump of his neck pouring blood onto the road. His helmet lay some twenty feet away, and Harry suspected he knew what was inside it. Despite lying in the road, spewing up his lunch, Harry spotted the rope. “It could have been me,” he said to himself and began to shake.

Villagers were coming out of their houses in response to the sound of the accident, one of them ran into the rope before he saw it, and fell backwards. Others then saw the danger and someone cut it with a pocket knife to prevent others from hitting it. Police and an ambulance were called, and someone rushed off for Harry’s mum. He wasn’t hurt, but he was very upset.

Up in the fields, a watcher cursed his luck. “Silly bastard, it wasn’t meant for you, but they’ll get the message.” Then he turned his back on the scene of carnage and disappeared through a hedge.