The Tied Man
‘Oh, you have got to be bloody kidding,’ I whispered.
Marjorie had hearing like a bat. ‘I will not tell you again about your language.’
As everything began to fall apart around me, something snapped in my head. ‘For fuck’s sake, you ignorant, boot-faced old cow! There’s a man bleeding to death in my fucking car and all I want is one sodding doctor from this poxy fucking shitpile of a hospital to see to him. Is that too much to fucking well ask?’
Marjorie’s hand hovered gleefully over her panic button, but before she could press it, the security guard strode across and placed a restraining hand on my shoulder.
‘Get your fucking hands off me!’ I howled, as my right fist connected with the youth’s jaw. He staggered backwards onto a row of fixed plastic seats.
I knew for sure I was about to get arrested whilst Finn bled out over the car seat. I shut my eyes, attempted to take a centring breath, and raised my hands in a belated conciliatory gesture. ‘I’m sorry,’ I began.
‘You will be.’ The security guard rubbed at his reddening jaw and hauled himself back to his feet, ready to restore his honour.
‘Can I help you?’ More hands on me, this time clad in white sleeves, with skin another shade darker than mine. There was something calm about the soft, feminine voice that stopped me lashing out for a second time, and I let my arms relax.
Marjorie was apoplectic. ‘Doctor Chawla, that… that trollop has just verbally abused me and physically assaulted a member of staff! She has forfeited any right to treatment, and I need to call the police as laid down in departmental procedure number -’
‘It’s all right, Marjorie. I’ll deal with it.’
I turned to face my rescuer. She was no older than thirty, with warm brown eyes that were heavy with the fatigue of a long night shift. A thick, ebony plait of hair hung down her back, and she could have stepped out of a Moghul Emperor’s portrait of his true love. To my relief, she was also firmly on the side of Call-me-Ed: another good guy.
Doctor Chawla smiled at the security guard. ‘Colin? Really, I can’t imagine a strapping man like you being floored by a girl. Not with all that martial arts training you’re always telling me about.’
Colin straightened his cap and blushed. ‘Nah, I tripped, that’s all. I mean, I could’ve had her, but I reckon Marjorie’s over-reacting a bit, like. Don’t tell anyone about this, will you Doctor?’
Leaving Marjorie mouthing like a stranded goldfish, the doctor walked me away from the carnage. ‘Okay, now we’ve dealt with that little drama, I’m Sangita Chawla, and I’ll be your doctor today. So, do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?’
I wanted to cover the woman’s face with kisses of undying gratitude, but instead I grabbed her hand and hauled her outside.
*****
Exiled from the treatment room where the sainted Doctor Chawla had taken Finn, I sat with my vest top pulled over my knees on a plastic seat that had been designed to cause as much discomfort as humanly possible. The last time I had been anywhere like this it was to identify my mother’s dead body, lying cold and pale in a side room, like a desiccated goblin. At least then I was numbed with cold relief that it was all over: now all I had to comfort me was a dog-eared 1997 Reader’s Digest.
After ten minutes I realised I had read the same story about a kitten’s miraculous escape from a house fire for the fifth time and I hadn’t understood a single word. I was exhausted and, once Sangita had extracted the information she needed from me, utterly useless.
‘Shit. Can’t even afford a coffee.’ I was patting down my pockets in the forlorn hope that I would hear the welcome clink of loose change when a noise like a thousand metal trays being dropped from a great height reverberated through the reception, and I hurtled to the door.
Doctor Chawla met me at the threshold. ‘Did you know he was scared of needles?’
*****
I was allowed inside that hallowed space pretty damn quickly then. Finn had chosen to come round just as a young nurse attempted to insert an IV line into the back of his hand and despite his prone state, had managed an effective trashing of the room simply by kicking out as hard as he could. Now he wasn’t letting anyone near him.
Sangita ushered me closer. ‘Your friend -’
‘Finn. He’s called Finn.’
‘We need to get Finn into surgery to explore that abdominal injury, and he’s probably going to need a transfusion, not to mention some decent pain relief. We can’t begin to do any of that unless he calms down. Do you think you could talk to him?’