The Tied Man

I’ll try.’ I  went to his side.

‘Lili?  You’re still here?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Where else was I going to go, dumbfuck?  I’m skint, covered in your blood, and very nearly under house arrest.  I think a trip around the local stately home to pass the time’s out of the question.’

‘M’ glad.’  Finn’s eyes rolled in his head as he struggled to stay awake.  ‘I’m shittin’ myself, Lili.  Needles – I can’t do ‘em.’

‘They need to fix you, darling.’  I reached out and brushed Finn’s sweat-sodden hair away from his face.

‘I know.  I know.  Just… fuck, don’t go.’  He grasped my hand, gripping it so tightly that what remained of his bitten fingernails made livid crescents in my brown skin.

‘I won’t.  I promise.’  I used my free hand to stroke his arm as though I were calming a scared dog.  ‘Ignore everything else and just look at me, huh?  It’ll be over before you know it.’  Through my fingertips I felt him begin to relax and give me the trust I had asked for.  I glanced up at Sangita.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, and slid the cannula into the back of Finn’s rigid hand as he clung on to me like a drowning man.

After that, I was allowed to stay without argument, from when they pumped his stomach to flush out the remains of the temazepam until he was taken to the theatre anteroom.  The anaesthetist commented that he had never known anyone take so much anaesthetic before they would finally let go of a hand.

*****

I would never quite remember what I did for the hours that Finn was in surgery.  I had a vague recollection of re-parking the Land Rover – diving behind the wheel just before it was clamped – and wandering the corridors and gardens of the dignified old building.  I even spent time in the tiny chapel, alternately admiring a stained glass window that had seen out two centuries and swearing at a God in whom I did not believe.  Finally, I stretched out on three chairs outside the operating theatre and fell into a fitful sleep, blanketed only by the cloying, storm-filled air.

I was awoken by Sangita gently shaking my shoulder.  ‘Lili?  That’s your name, isn’t it?’  I tensed when she called me by Finn’s diminutive, but if she recognised me she hid it well.

‘Finn’s out of surgery.  I’ve had a chat with the surgeon, and everything went just fine – apparently they’ve even managed to replace some of that blood that’s redecorated your car.  Just watch what he drinks for the next day or so – you don’t want him leaking now, do you?’  She gave me an impish little wink and I liked her more than ever.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

‘He’s in recovery now.  Perhaps you’d like to sit with him?  It’s not strictly allowed, but he seems a lot happier if you’re within grabbing distance.’

I checked my watch: eleven thirty – still plenty of time.  I stood and stretched, and followed Sangita. Finn was still out cold;  a mask over his nose and mouth pushed oxygen into his lungs and a drip steadily replaced the precious fluids he needed.  He looked like roadkill.

I summoned more restraint than I had ever needed in my life and allowed myself to stroke his cheek.  ‘You’re a fucking liability, Strachan,’ I whispered.

Sangita stood by the doorway, giving us our space.  Eventually, she asked, ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ and nodded at the chair by Finn’s bedside.  I expected her to leave, but as I sat she pulled up a second chair and joined me.  She took off her white coat and revealed her civvy outfit of khaki combats and a Nirvana t-shirt.  For one treacherous second it felt as though I was sitting down to chat with an old friend.  ‘Do you want to tell me how Finn got these injuries?’ she asked.

She had timed it beautifully.  I dropped my head into my hands as the sudden urge to confess, to offload the nightmare, became enormous.  It filled my mouth, my mind, even the room itself.  I began to tremble with the sheer pressure of keeping the words inside.

Just five minutes was all it would take: to tell everything to this young doctor with her kind, inquisitive face; maybe five minutes more to ring the Police Station and leave a message for Call-Me-Ed, who would surely know how to deal with Blaine Albermarle and her sick, debauched kingdom.  I fumbled for my inhaler and gave two blasts.

‘Lili?  It’s okay, you can talk to me.  There’s nothing to be scared of.’