Peter Conway didn’t show; Jim came in his place, almost snorting with anger.
“Come on; hand it over,” he demanded.
“Hey. Calm down. You’re talking to an invalid here. You’re supposed to be oozing compassion and concern. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He held his hand out and looked menacingly at me. “The phone, Ange; the bloody mobile. Hand it over. I’m not leaving here until you do – and I’ll search you if I have to.”
I shot him a wicked grin. “Now you are trying to make me feel better.” I slid the covers back tantalisingly. “Go ahead, lover boy; I promise not to try and stop you.”
“Ange! I’m being serious. Give me that bloody phone. Now!”
I handed it over, scowling. “What’s the big deal, Jim? It’s not as if I’m exerting myself, is it? Besides, it’s boring in here; what harm can the odd phone call do?”
“You’re breaching doctor’s orders, and mine.” It was only after he had taken possession of my phone that he took a seat at the side of the bed.
“I don’t suppose you brought any food, did you? I can’t eat that crap.” I pushed the portable table to one side. “Look, Jim – stop fussing, will you? I’ve got concussion, not paralysis…”
“...And you’ve been advised to rest and do nothing,” he interrupted. “And getting involved in the case – and that’s exactly what you were trying to do by using your mobile – is about as far from relaxation as you can get. So knock it off, Ange. You stay here and behave until the doctors give you the all clear. And then you convalesce – understand? That means you keep away from the station for at least a week, you stay away from telephones, and you put your feet up. Is that clear enough for you?”
“God! I love it when you’re being masterful!” I gripped his hand tightly. “I promise I’ll do what the doctors advise, Jim. Providing it’s not altogether unreasonable. Is that fair? Oh, and am I right in thinking Peter Conway won’t be coming to see me now?”
That, at least, made him laugh. “Give him a bit of credit. He was worried about you, said you sounded terrible on the phone. And if you want to know anything about the case, ask me, and if I think you’re up to it, then I’ll discuss it with you.” He held out his free hand. “And if I don’t, I’ll tell you so. Agreed?”
I nodded. “So, what’s happening?” I asked in my most innocent voice.
Jim shook his head. “I’m wasting my time here, aren’t I? Okay. Nothing much has happened since you spoke to Peter, except that we might have a lead on the four-wheeler. Evidently, one of the customers with a T-Reg dark blue Toyota – also with the figure ‘2’ in it – sold it on for cash about a year ago, to a man he reckoned might fit our suspect’s description. The problem is, as I think Peter’s already told you, we don’t know yet whether he’s registered it with Swansea. Some people don’t bother until they come to sell it on.”
“How do you know this bloke’s telling the truth?”
“Because he bought it for his wife – one of those ‘keeping up with the Jones’s’ things – and then she found she couldn’t drive it because it was too big for her. And she’s confirmed that, by the way. OKAY?”
“Yeah. I guess. Listen, Jim; I had an idea about this guy and his knee problem…”
“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” He took my hand in both of his. “Ange, you’ve got to switch off; even if it’s only for a few days. Until you get the all clear. Please, will you try to do that for me? I’ll be speaking with the doctors later, after they’ve given you the results of the MRI scan. They said they’d ring me about your coming out tomorrow. But don’t get too optimistic. That’s a dangerous injury you know, and if you’re not careful it could backfire on you; seriously backfire.”
“Okay, Jim. I’ve got the message, and I promise I’ll be sensible about it. If they do let me out tomorrow I thought about spending some convalescing time with Connie at the halfway house. I sure as hell don’t want to be in that flat on my own for week; either mine or yours.”
“Good idea. Just as long as you stay away from the case.” He leant over and gave me a full kiss on the lips. “Got to go, sweetheart. Take care. And if you are allowed out in the morning I’ll send a car to collect you; that’s if I can’t come.”
“Bye, Jim.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The consultant came in to see me later that evening, holding the scans in his hand.
“Miss Crossley. Angie, isn’t it?”
I just nodded.
“Well, your scan look pretty good, you’ll be pleased to hear. Nothing sinister, although it does show some bruising to the brain round the area that got thumped. That, I’m afraid, is a matter of time – and rest – before it’ll go down. You’ve got quite serious concussion, Angie, and you’d do well not to treat it lightly. Do you have someone to stay with for a few days if we release you in the morning?”
“Yes. I can stay with a friend of mine.”
“You won’t be on your own? Otherwise, we’d rather you stayed here.”
“No, doctor. There’ll be someone with me all the time.”
“Good. Then you can leave in the morning. I’d like to see you again in about four weeks though – we’ll send you an appointment card with the details.” He placed the scans back in the folder. “Now, remember what I said, won’t you? Rest. No stresses. And no work for at least a week. And the first sign of a violent headache, or any double vision, you come straight back here. Understand?”
I managed a smile. “Thank you, doctor. I’m very grateful.”
As soon as he was gone I reached for my mobile. Damn! I’d forgotten; that bully Jim Robbins had taken it from me. I slipped out of bed and made my way into the general ward, where I was intercepted by one of the nurses.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m trying to find a telephone. Is there one on the ward?”
She smiled. “There is, yes. A payphone. But you don’t look as if you’re carrying any money with you.”
“Oh, Christ. I couldn’t – I mean, you wouldn’t…?”
She pulled a purse from the pocket of her uniform. “I could stretch to a local call. Is that okay?” she said, handing me a 20p piece.
“Bless you, yes. And thanks, nurse; I’ll see you get it back.”
I managed to get hold of Paul, explained my circumstances and asked him if I could stay at Ashworth House for a few days. It was only after some hesitation that he confirmed that, because I could officially be classified as part of the security team looking after Connie, it would be acceptable; otherwise, he told me, it was highly irregular.
“And I suppose you’ll be needing a bit of nursing during this convalescing?” he said, fortunately with that lilt of humour in his voice. When I tried to reassure him that would not be the case he went on to say they would be happy to take care of me for a week. “Angie, believe me, it’s the least we can do after what you’ve been through. How about a lift? Do you want one of us to collect you from the hospital?”
I was just able to thank him and tell him that, no, I was fine, when my money ran out. Reluctantly, I returned to my room and another early night. Life was becoming the absolute bloody pits.