Spencer had two weeks off school. Doctor’s orders. She said his body and mind needed to rest and recover. She asked him if he wanted to talk to someone—‘a professional’—about what had happened, but he shook his head and mumbled, ‘Nah, no thanks.’ He thought of the mind-bending dreams he’d been having, but reckoned that was probably normal, even if they were awful. He wasn’t having them every night, just occasionally. He could live with that. They were alive, weren’t they?
Dad was in hospital for nearly three weeks. His leg was pretty badly crunched up. He had a long operation and came out a bit like C-3PO he said, with metal rods in him where there used to be bone.
Each visit, Pippa would bring a couple of her latest batch of cupcakes for Dad to try, and Spencer would bring the newspaper. One day when they rocked up, the physiotherapist was there, getting Dad to walk with a frame in front of him, like old people did.
‘That’s it, easy now, just a little bit of weight on that leg, Doctor Gray, not too much now...’
Dad’s face was white with pain after those first steps. Spencer had to stop himself from going over and grabbing his arm to help.
‘That’s good, very good,’ the physiotherapist murmured. ‘Just one more step on each leg, and then you can have a break.’
Sinking down on the edge of his bed again, Dad let out a slow, relieved groan.
‘You did well, Doctor Gray. It will get easier; today will be the hardest. But you’re going to have to work at it every day to get that movement back.’
‘So there’s no chance I can get out of here early, then?’
‘Early discharge?!’ She laughed. ‘Not a hope,’ she said, shaking her head as she wrote in the clipboard at the end of his bed. ‘You doctors—you’re the worst!’