A show of politeness
Tap, tap, tap…
He’d been hammering something. With Elin. Where was she now? Some stupid argument; something was wrong. He realised he was in a hospital ward, nothing else, no context, no reason. Where was she? He closed his eyes. It felt wrong to think.
He became aware again, a vague headache hovering beneath the surface but the gap in his life filling itself in. Herding a gaggle of escaped sheep with Frank Barnham. Helping repair the hedge. Fixing timbers together to form the frame for the caravan. Yes, the hammering. Elin smiling. Maybe there was nothing wrong after all. Warm relief washed over him. He opened his eyes, saw the hospital room again. Closed them in denial.
‘Bede?’
Sitting in their kitchen, chatting with her and the girl… Tamsin, that was it. He dared to look, saw Elin sitting by the bed, felt her squeeze his hand. She felt warm. Which meant he must be cold.
‘Thank goodness you’re all right,’ she said.
‘Am I? Are you?’
‘Of course I am. You…you will be.’
‘What? What’s happened?’
‘Don’t worry for now. Just…’
‘That’s making me worry.’ He looked around, saw his leg cradled and raised. Realised there was a pain as dull as the one in his head coming from his foot. Painkillers must be damping it. A drip fed a cannula in the back of the hand she was cradling gently. The other arm was immobilised in a brace. He fought down the fear. ‘Don’t mess about, El. Tell me.’
She glanced at the door, then back to him. ‘You were knocked off your bike. On your way home from work.’
‘Work? With Steve? That was days ago, wasn’t it?’
‘No, not that. At the Horseshoes. Late last night.’
The ache nagged and he closed his eyes. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
He waved the hand she was still holding towards his feet.
‘You…you’ve got a broken ankle. The way you fell. They’re going to operate, set it as soon as you’re ready to take the anaesthetic. Shouldn’t be too long now you’re awake.’ She stroked his hand with her thumb. ‘Your arm…you broke your wrist as well. Presumably sticking your hand out to cushion the impact. It’s a clean fracture, tiny bone – nowhere near as bad as the ankle. They’ll put it in a cast when they do your leg.’
Instinctively, he braced himself with his elbows and shifted his left leg. The pain in his foot intensified, as did the ache from his left wrist. He made himself relax.
‘So…how did it happen?’
From the expression on her face, he almost felt like telling her not to worry.
‘We don’t know. Hit-and-run. The bike was buckled – you were hit. The police found a car burnt out on the Halbury road. It was stolen – joyriders, probably. They want to talk to you when you feel ready. Do you remember anything? Anything at all?’
He closed his eyes; saw the scene in their kitchen. Whenever that was. It didn’t lead anywhere. The headache was getting worse. He raised his hand, felt a dressing at his temple.
‘Maybe you’ll remember to wear your cycle helmet next time,’ she said, clearly trying to sound light-hearted about it.
‘On my feet?’
‘Not funny.’ She smiled all the same.
‘Seriously, I can handle a headache, but how long’s this going to take? What about Alderleat, what about the Sunny Days job? I’m not going to be much use to anyone on crutches.’
She indicated his arm. ‘You’ll have to rely on my wheelchair driving skills to begin with.’ She cut off his expletive. ‘You’re supposed to rest anyway after concussion.’
‘The pub? We can’t afford—’
‘We’ll sort it all out. For now I’m just glad you’re here and talking to me. It’s been hell today.’
A nurse came over and cheerfully introduced herself. Bede forced a smile as she asked him how he was and went through a series of routine checks, but hoped she wouldn’t chat more than necessary. Others might find small talk reassuring, but Elin was the only one he could face speaking to. The nurse handed him a glass of water; he realised how dry his mouth had been.
‘Steady, take it gradually at first. Do you feel like something to eat?’
No, I feel like roadkill. He stared into the water glass.
‘Bede…’ Elin prompted.
‘Yeah, suppose I ought to try something.’ He waved the empty glass towards the over-bed table and she took it from him. ‘Vegetarian,’ he added.
‘You’ve missed lunch but I’ll see what I can find you.’
Elin looked between him and the nurse. ‘That’d be lovely, thanks.’
Bede thought to himself that lying in a hospital bed with a worsening headache and a smashed foot was a perfect excuse for forgetting to say please.
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‘Thanks for all this. I really appreciate it.’
Elin straightened up, the sofa bed finally manoeuvred into place, and Carole helped her extend it. The small dining room looked cramped, the table and chairs pushed to one side, but she really hadn’t the energy to move anything else.
‘I told you,’ Carole said as she flapped a sheet and watched it float gracefully down into place, ‘you should have got a couple of lads from the Horseshoes to give him a fireman’s lift up to the bedroom. At least he’d be stuck up there and forced to rest.’
‘He’d only lie there wasting energy devising escape strategies. Then fall down the stairs trying, and make things worse. Thank goodness for the downstairs shower-room.’ Elin positioned the pillows and straightened the duvet. ‘There, that’s about done. I really shouldn’t second-guess him; he’ll probably amaze me and turn out to be the model patient.’
‘You just keep believing he will – you need to stay optimistic.’ Carole followed her through to the kitchen and began tidying the breakfast things, waving away Elin’s protests. ‘You’d better be on your way soon. Once you’re gone I’ll go out to the greenhouse and help myself to what we need for the shop. I’ll rearrange the rota to cover for you.’
‘Thanks. You must have—’
‘It’s fine. And if you’re not back, I’ll call round this evening – chickens, Kip…’
Elin found her calm efficiency soothing. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’
‘People turn to you often enough, Elin. It’s my turn now – I’ll do anything I can to help. This is such a shitty thing to have happened.’
‘What do you think did happen?’ Elin glanced at her then stared out of the window.
‘The police said it was joyriders, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘What?’
‘They haven’t spoken to Philip Northcote yet.’
Carole clattered some dishes on the draining-board. ‘Philip? Why on earth would you think he had anything to do with it?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘You can’t be serious. Has Bede done something else to piss him off?’
‘Why does everyone always suspect Bede?’ Elin grabbed a cloth and scrubbed at the table as if she could wipe away the recent events.
‘I don’t. Sorry. I meant because he’s a leading light in the campaign.’
Elin decided to give her clumsy change of tack the benefit of the doubt. ‘He dropped a careless hint about bribery and corruption last week. So it could have been some kind of warning.’
‘Honestly, Elin! Whatever Philip’s views, surely you can’t believe he’d actually do something like that.’
‘It could’ve turned out worse than he intended. Or he could’ve employed someone.’
‘Bloody hell, girl, you want to be careful what you say.’
Elin felt defensive. ‘We want to know what happened.’
‘Bede was unlucky, that’s all.’
As she dried the last of the pots, Elin heard a car pull up outside and glanced out of the window. ‘Silvan.’
She went to open the door.
‘Hi.’ He indicated his muddy boots and hovered on the doorstep. ‘Tammy told me at the weekend what happened. She’s really worried; asked me to tell you she’ll be round as soon as she can. I thought I’d call myself to see how the man is.’
‘I’m just off to the hospital to find out,’ Elin said.
‘That bad? He’s still in?’
‘It was a while before they could set his ankle, and in any case, he had concussion so they wanted to keep an eye on him for a couple of days.’
‘What a bummer,’ Silvan said. Carole looked unsure what to make of him. ‘Does he play draughts? Cards? Tell him I’ll be round. We need to keep that genius brain exercised.’
Elin snorted. ‘Please don’t go inflating his ego. But thanks for the offer; good idea. He’s meant to rest, but I doubt he’ll be very good at enforced inactivity. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’
She watched him go, then turned back inside to Carole’s inquisitively-raised eyebrows. ‘He seems to have his feet under the table.’
‘He’s called by a few times,’ Elin said. ‘Seems OK. It was nice of him to come.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I take it “Tammy” is Kate’s Tamsin?’
Elin nodded.
‘Since when?’
‘Not long. They were supposed to be going to the coast together last Sunday but with all the drama they hardly got to see each other, so she told me.’
‘I can’t imagine Kate’s very happy. He’s a good few years older than Tamsin, isn’t he?’
‘And hardly Kate’s idea of a nice young man.’ Elin smiled, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Actually, I don’t think she knows. Though I guess it won’t be long now before she does.’
‘You malign me,’ Carole said. ‘I’m the soul of discretion. About your Northcote hints, too, don’t worry. Anyway you’d best be off.’ She glanced at the clock with a conspiratorial wink. ‘Damn. Even if I give you a lift to the village you’ll have missed the bus. You’ll have to take the car.’
‘Don’t be like that. It’s unnecessary journeys we object to.’
Carole smiled as if indulging a favourite child. ‘In oversized vehicles like mine.’
‘I didn’t say—’
He has. More than once. Oh, sorry I mentioned it. Time to get moving.’
Elin gathered up a pile of papers and books from the living-room floor to provide a clear passage for the wheelchair the occupational therapist had offered to obtain for him. She stood for a moment, inexplicably lost, until Carole ushered her out.
‘It’s not like you to fret. Come on, he’ll be waiting for you.’
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Bede sat listening to the comforting sounds of Elin pottering in the kitchen. Kip gazed up at him, nose in his lap, calmer now. He’d hindered their awkward progress into the house by leaping up at the wheelchair as though his master had been gone for weeks, sniffing at the plaster cast from knee to toe, looking suspiciously as though he were about to mark it as his own. Bede gazed at the stiff lump that was his leg, the dull ache frustratingly encased out of reach, ironically less painful than the more minor injury of his wrist.
He thought about the weeks to come. Steve had phoned to express his sympathy and to reassure Bede that even if he was laid up for a while, he could still be involved with their new project, doing the calculations, dimensioning and design while Steve saw to the practical side. He’d probably intended to make him feel better, but in fact he felt trapped – however much he enjoyed all aspects of a project and its challenges, the prospect of being cooped up indoors filled him with claustrophobic horror.
It was still hard to shake off the sense that he could somehow turn the clock back to the time, only a few days ago, when he’d been unharmed. Try as he might, he could only retrace the steps of his life as far as Saturday morning. Brian had phoned, talked him through the evening at work, described every detail of who was in the pub, snatches of conversation, songs that had played in the background.
That little corner of memory seemed lost to the mental bruise of concussion and, for now at least, he simply had to accept that it was a part of his life that had vanished forever, together with any clues it might contain about the vehicle that had floored him or the identity of its occupants. Common sense said it was the burnt-out car abandoned by joyriders on the outskirts of Halbury, and there was little chance of them being traced, but was common sense enough? It felt deliberate. Of course it did! He shook his head. No way did a vague feeling amount to insightful intuition. This was an accident, like Joe’s death had been an accident.
And there he was – full circle. Try as he might, he couldn’t accept either.
He reached for the book he’d been reading and found his place. The sound of Elin’s voice triggered the swooping awakening of someone who hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep.
‘Dozed off?’ she said as she came in with a lap tray.
They’d said fatigue was perfectly natural after a trauma like this, as much to be expected as momentary blackouts, memory loss and headaches, but it made him feel guilty and inadequate. She gave him a don’t-worry-about-it smile as she carefully positioned the tray on his thighs and went to fetch her own. He noticed she’d cut up the pie. Without fuss. He picked up his fork. At least it was his right hand that was still working; he should be thankful for small mercies.
He smiled his gratitude, already tucking in, as she sat in the armchair opposite him. No sooner had she settled than the doorbell rang.
‘Timing.’ Rolling his eyes, he motioned her to stay where she was and they yelled Come in! in loud unison.
Tamsin appeared, clutching a large card, a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers. ‘Oh, you’re eating, sorry – d’you want me to come back later? You weren’t here when I got back from school and then it was like dinner time and this is the first chance I’ve had… Didn’t know if flowers were right for a fella but anyway I’m sure Elin’ll like them if you don’t. From our garden. Shit, look at you. You poor thing. Well, it’s a relief after Saturday night, but, you know…’ She caught Elin’s eye and smiled self-consciously. ‘Oops, talking too much.’
‘Saves me having to think of the right response.’ Bede smiled back. ‘Nice flowers, thank you. Hope you don’t mind watching us eat.’
‘Can you do us a favour?’ Elin said. ‘You’ll find a vase somewhere in the kitchen…’
Tamsin vanished and a little later appeared with the flowers prettily arranged. She perched on the edge of a chair until they’d finished eating, then cleared away the plates with equally keen efficiency. They heard another knock at the door as she reached the kitchen.
‘I’ve never felt so popular,’ Bede muttered.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Elin said. ‘They’re all coming to make sure I’m coping with you.’
He was surprised to see Silvan walk in.
‘Hiya,’ he said, flopping down on the sofa. ‘Did Elin tell you I called this morning? She said you’d probably be home tonight. Just came to see how you were.’
Bede gestured with the hand that wasn’t held captive. ‘Never better, mate, never better.’
He ignored the look Elin gave him. Silvan seemed unperturbed. As he asked if they knew anything about what had happened, Bede wondered how many times he was going to have to explain, and for how long he could continue to repeat himself with a show of politeness. Maybe he should write it down, get a T-shirt printed. He gave the briefest account of the police’s joyrider story and his own lack of recall. ‘I can’t help wondering…’
Silvan flicked his eyes in Tamsin’s direction with a subtle shake of his head.
‘Were you in the Horseshoes?’ Bede said. ‘Did you see anything?’
‘I was back in Brum for a No Surrender gig, wasn’t I?’
He got out his phone and showed them a few pictures. Bede gave them a cursory glance – Silvan looked good on stage but it was pretty pointless without the audio.
‘Wish you could’ve been there,’ Silvan said. ‘I mean, I hope you’d have been into the music of course – but practically, if you’d hadn’t been in Foxover, you wouldn’t have had all this.’
Elin got up and offered to make them a coffee. Bede felt sleep closing in on him. It was ridiculous; he’d been dozing on and off all day.
‘You’re welcome to stay,’ he said, ‘but sleep’s my default setting at the moment. So please don’t be offended if I give you my full and undivided attention with my eyes closed.’
‘I think that’s a subtle way of saying “another time”, yeah?’ Silvan grinned. He glanced at them both. ‘Anything we can do to help before we go?’
We. Bede glanced at Tamsin. So it was already that serious. He was tempted to decline the offer, but Elin looked done in and, suppressing a sigh, he decided it was worth the discomfort and embarrassment of being manhandled into bed by near-strangers to save her the effort.