All Jumbled Up

In the rigid confines of the orthopaedic chair, Susan stirred. She stretched aching limbs, ground bunched fists into her eyes. In the half-light of the hospital room, she could make out the ghostly outline of the drip-stand, beyond that the small figure on the bed.

She’d called in earlier on her airwave radio, been told to stay put. Her stomach rumbled. Oh, to hell! Susan had sacrificed hours of her precious free time in the hope of getting a result. But for every brief moment of lucidity, Sheena Struthers seemed to spend an inordinate length of time in deep sleep. Susan didn’t dare argue the toss lest she incur the wrath of her boss. She was scared to death of Inspector Chisolm. One angry look from him could send her scurrying for the sanctuary of the female toilets.

She’d dozed off again when the door swung open and a nurse bustled in. The woman’s face didn’t look familiar – an agency nurse perhaps – and the light was too dim to make out her name tag. She ignored Susan’s presence, snapped on blue latex gloves from a dispenser and busied herself checking the patient’s vital signs.

That’s what I get for messing with the charge nurse, Susan thought, wryly. Her stomach growled again. She’d ask the nurse to keep an eye while she nipped down to the vending machines. It was hours since she’d last eaten, and that was only a Diet Coke and a two-finger KitKat. Plus, she was dying for a pee.

She eyed the figure bending over the bed. Hell, she might even have time to go down to the cafe on the second floor, stretch her legs, use the toilet while she was there.

‘How are you doing?’ She decided a charm offensive was in order.

‘What’s it to you?’ came the retort.

‘Just asking,’ Susan tried to pass it off.

The nurse responded by turning her back.

Never mind, Susan rubbed scrunched fists into hollow eye sockets, she could always use the en-suite. Now she’d been sitting that long, it was sod’s law that Sheena Struthers would wake up if she left the room.

*

As Sheena Struthers stirred, Susan shot out of her seat.

She stood by the bed. ‘Sheena?’

‘You again?’ Drowsy voice.

She smiled. ‘’Fraid so. Is it okay if I put the light on?’ In the gloom, Susan could barely make out Sheena’s features, far less her expression. She reached to a switch above the bed.

‘Don’t!’ Uttered with such vehemence, Susan started.

‘Not a problem.’ Hastily, Susan lowered her arm. She’d got off to a bad start. Still, at least the patient was awake.

Susan’s eyes strayed to the window. The sky was streaked pink with the first glimmers of daylight. Beyond the window, birds were tweeting. Down the corridor a trolley clattered. Soft-soled shoes squeaked on polished floors. The sounds of the world waking up. She stifled a yawn. Please God, now the focus of the investigation seemed to be swinging back towards the husband, she wouldn’t have to spend too much longer in this dreary room.

Sheena Struthers struggled to sit up. ‘What is it this time?’

‘Just a few more questions? I won’t keep you long. I wonder if we could run over the events leading up to your admission?’

‘But why? I already told you I can’t remember anything about that day. I’ve been racking my brains, but I’m afraid, from the moment I got into bed until I woke up in here, there’s nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘You don’t remember waking that morning?’

‘No.’

‘Or getting your morning tea?’

‘No.’

‘Or trying to get out of bed.’

In the orange glow of the rising sun, Susan’s eyes flashed irritation. ‘I already told you.’

Susan changed the subject. Wouldn’t do to get the patient agitated. Susan had given Vi Coutts a body-swerve after that first, bruising, encounter. She was chary of a return match.

‘Now I can see you properly, you’re looking heaps better.’

‘Am I?’ Doubtful look.

‘Definitely. Your eyes are clearer, and your skin’s a better colour.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been allowed out of bed.’

‘You don’t have a handbag mirror?’

‘The nurses comb my hair and, well,’ Sheena cast a glance over the apparatus at the side of the bed, ‘appearance has been the least of my concerns.’

‘Your husband, hasn’t he…?’

‘Gordon’s fetched bits and pieces from home, but as you know,’ she clasped to her head the hand that wasn’t attached to a tube, ‘my head’s been all over the place since my…’ Pregnant pause. ‘Accident.’

‘You’ve had a bad time.’ Susan’s sympathy wasn’t assumed. ‘Little wonder you’re feeling low.’

No response.

‘What you’ve been through is enough to muddle anybody’s head. So don’t worry if you haven’t been able to answer my questions up till now.’ She took Sheena’s hand in hers, gave it a little squeeze. ‘I’m not trying to hassle you. As I told you before, I’m here to help.’

‘Before I left you last time,’ Susan tried to build on their small moment of intimacy, ‘I asked you about something you said to me.’

‘Oh?’

‘“Enough”, you said. What did you mean by that?’

‘Nothing. I mean…’ Flustered look. ‘You must have misheard. I don’t recall saying any such thing.’

Susan eyeballed her. ‘I doubt that’s the case.’

‘Are you questioning my word?’ Sheena snatched her hand away. ‘My mind’s all jumbled up, can’t you understand?’

‘Not at all. Just trying to clarify.’ Susan leaned forward. ‘I’m trying to help you, Sheena.’

Sheena’s face set, her lips compressed in a thin line.

‘Enough of what?’ Susan pressed, heart thudding. Was this the clue that would unravel the puzzle, or the delirious ramblings of a troubled mind?’

Resolutely, Sheena Struthers turned her head away.

Bugger! She’s clammed up now. But why?

Susan laid her hand on Sheena’s shoulder. ‘You have to trust me,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘Woman to woman. I’m telling the truth when I say I’m here to help you.’

Beneath the starched sheet, Sheena’s body stiffened. ‘Then why do you keep asking me the same questions over and over?’

‘I’m trying to find out what happened to you, that’s all.’

‘Happened?’ With a look of utter hopelessness, Sheena Struthers sank back onto the bank of pillows, her eyelids heavy, her mouth slack.

She’s falling asleep again. For the second time, Susan cursed herself for not being quicker off the mark.

She bent over the bed. ‘Can you remember what happened, Sheena?’ Urgent whisper. ‘Anything? Even the smallest detail?’

Sheena’s eyelids fluttered. ‘Gordon,’ she whispered through lips that were dry and cracked.

Susan’s pulse raced. ‘What about Gordon?’ This might be the breakthrough she’d been waiting for.

There was silence, then, save for the tick and wheeze of the machines.