There were dizzying numbers of uniformed police officers in the A&E department of the nearest hospital, but not for me. It was a busy night, as the ambulance service had warned, and the cops were there to deal with drunken bad behaviour, fights and domestics, and patients in the throes of mental illness threatening violence to themselves or others. I was used to being on the other side of the chaos, watching it spill through the streets, mopping up afterwards instead of being caught in the tide.
On the other hand, as I reminded myself, being in the hospital was nicer than being trapped in the flat. It was a relief to have access to some decent painkillers and the loving care of the nurses. They were charming to me, and side-eyed Derwent, stiff-legged with suppressed hostility, until I explained that he was not responsible for the three broken ribs, fractured collar bone, broken nose and broken cheekbone, not to mention the multiple soft-tissue injuries that didn’t appear on the X-rays. At that point he got a chair and a cup of tea.
‘He saved my life,’ I told the nurse who was preparing to stitch up the long laceration on my head that had bled so comprehensively, the one that had effectively glued me to the carpet. ‘If he hadn’t come to find me, I don’t know what would have happened.’
She was young and from Galway, and had been in London for eight months. She had told me already she was thoroughly enjoying her life in the big city, though I noticed she hadn’t lost her wide-eyed stare. ‘So did you call him? Is that how he knew you were hurt?’
‘No, I didn’t have a phone.’ I tried to look at Derwent without moving my head, but it was impossible: he was sitting too close to the head of the bed. All I could see was a dark blur in the corner of my vision. ‘Actually, how did you know I needed to be rescued?’
‘Liv called me. She said you hadn’t picked up the last message she sent you, so she called every number she had for you and you didn’t pick up. She knew I had keys to the flat and she knew I was worried about you so I’d go round straight away.’
‘You were worried about me?’ I really wished I could see his face.
‘Ah, that’s lovely.’ The nurse waved a mouthpiece at me. ‘Now this is going to sting, and it’s going to take a while. You should have some gas and air.’
‘I’m fine.’ I was already on about eight different kinds of pain relief and I felt as if parts of me were floating off the bed, tethered to invisible balloons.
‘The local anaesthetic really stings going in, and then it’s a horrible sensation being stitched. Especially with a head injury.’ She held it out to me again and looked stern, and I took it meekly. When I inhaled, I instantly felt a hundred times better than I could remember ever feeling before, chemical happiness bubbling through my bloodstream.
‘That is really good.’
‘Enjoy it!’ The nurse looked over at Derwent and beamed, I presumed at my expense. I didn’t care. It was a proper second-glass-of-champagne buzz and it made me feel as if the pain in my head (which was considerable, once she started digging around) didn’t matter in the slightest.
‘So, the two of ye are friends, are ye?’
‘We work together,’ Derwent said. I reached out my free hand to him and he took it. ‘We’re friends too.’
I rolled my eyes. Here we were again, trying to define the indefinable. He wasn’t even getting close to the truth. If you want something done, do it yourself. I took the mouthpiece out. ‘Honestly, we’re much more than friends.’
‘Is that right?’ the nurse said.
‘Yes. I love him.’
‘Whoa there.’ Derwent shifted his chair along the side of the bed so I could see him. He was grinning. ‘This is a bit sudden.’
‘Shut up.’ The gas and air was starting to wear off; I was sobering up far too fast. ‘It’s not like love love.’
‘You’re doing well. Keep talking.’ He held up a hand. ‘In fact, no, have some more gas and air, then keep talking.’
‘Stop it, you’re terrible.’ The nurse was laughing so hard I could feel the bed shaking.
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ I said coolly, with total dignity as far as I was concerned. ‘It’s not the gas and air, either. Ow.’
‘You need it. Have a bit more,’ the nurse said, and held the mouthpiece up for me again. I floated away on it again, but I still had something to say so after a few deep breaths I took it out and addressed the nurse.
‘The thing is, it’s that feeling. When you think about them and the feeling you get is too big to fit inside your chest. And you worry about them if you don’t see them, and just seeing them makes everything better, even if they’re annoying or you don’t see eye to eye. That’s love, isn’t it?’ I looked at Derwent. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, it is.’ He squeezed my hand, and I felt as if I’d actually managed to say what I meant for once, so that he understood me.
I was on a lot of drugs at the time.
From the moment he found me in the flat, Derwent didn’t leave my side, until the officers came to take a statement from me about what had happened. He made it through the DASH form that all victims of domestic and sexual violence had to fill out, which I answered as honestly as I could. When I looked at the questions coolly and unemotionally, it was plain there was a pattern to Seth’s behaviour that I had failed to see, despite everything I knew about violence in relationships. He had behaved like a perfect boyfriend but his goal had been to control me, and isolate me, and I had let him do it. My voice got quieter and quieter as the officer worked through the form, the shame of it all sinking into my bones. The officer was small, mid-forties, with kind eyes and very good make-up. After answering the final question on the form I asked about her manicure and the advantages of shellac nail varnish while I regained my composure. We both knew I was avoiding the next part, and her manner was gentle when she brought me back to their reason for being there.
‘And now can we talk about what happened specifically in this incident today?’
I’d been dreading it, but it had to be done. Maybe I would feel empowered, I thought, once I’d actually said it. Derwent was standing with his arms folded, looking at the floor rather than at me, his head bowed.
‘Um. He had wanted to come over last night.’ I looked around. ‘Wait, what day is it now?’
‘Technically Monday.’
‘Well, he wanted to come over on Saturday night and I put him off. I was too tired.’ I heard the shake in my voice and clamped down on the emotion that was threatening to break through. ‘When he came over on Sunday – yesterday morning – he saw a bruise on my neck that I got at work. He was suspicious that … that I had received it from a colleague.’
Derwent’s eyebrows snapped together. So he was listening.
Of course he was listening; I would have been listening if it had been someone else telling this story. I looked away from him and focused on the policewoman. She didn’t have a hair out of place and she had to be well into her shift. I needed to know how she managed that. Industrial strength hairspray, maybe.
‘And then what happened?’
‘He got hold of my phone and saw a message from another colleague. She had made a joke about something that someone had said to me. It was a throwaway remark. Nothing. I mean, it wasn’t important in the least.’
Derwent hadn’t moved. He was so still, you might have thought he was asleep.
‘And he didn’t like the joke.’
‘No, I wouldn’t tell Seth what the joke was. I thought he would overreact, and it was none of his business anyway.’ I managed something like a laugh. ‘Maybe I should have told him what she was talking about.’
‘It was what I said, wasn’t it?’
The police officer looked around at Derwent. ‘What was it?’
‘Do you know what? It doesn’t matter. It could have been anything anyone said. He was looking for an excuse.’ I understood that now, as I hadn’t before, and I wanted to be sure Derwent understood it too. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. ‘He would have invented a reason if he’d had to.’
He nodded, and a couple of minutes later I noticed he had left. I assumed he was going to make a phone call or something, and I didn’t think any more about it until the police officers had taken photographs of my injuries and departed, leaving the curtain open. I could see him sitting on a chair at the nurses’ station with his head in his hands. A nurse was standing between me and him, her hand on his shoulder as if she was comforting him, and my throat tightened. Was it worse to be hurt or to feel responsible for someone else’s pain? I knew the answer to that one. I only caught a glimpse before an orthopaedic consultant came in to discuss treatment options and fracture clinics and keeping me in overnight, which was, in fact, what happened because they were concerned about potential complications. And then Derwent seemed completely normal when he came to tell me I was being transferred to a ward and he’d have to go, so I decided not to say anything about what I’d seen.
‘I’ll tell your parents where they can find you.’
‘Why would you do that to me?’
‘Because I’m more scared of them than I am of you.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘They would want to know.’
‘They never liked him.’
A gratified expression flitted across his face. ‘You should listen to them more often.’
‘I’m not sure that would be wise.’ I yawned. ‘What time is it?’
‘Ten past three.’
‘I’m so sorry. You must be exhausted.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m used to this.’
‘Yes, but this weekend is supposed to be your time off too. You should be at home with Melissa and Thomas.’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, OK? Get some rest.’
I nodded and he stood at the end of the bed for a beat, as if he was weighing something up. Then he picked up his jacket and left.