The Tied Man

The shaking grew worse.  I glanced at Finn, whose anaesthetic-dulled eyes had now opened.  He looked around the room in disorientated alarm.  I managed to steady one hand enough to grasp his fingers.  ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘The beginning?’ the doctor offered.  ‘Lili, I can’t begin to guess what’s going on here, but whatever it is, it’s terrifying the pair of you.’

‘You’re not the first person to say that today,’ I said with a wan smile.

‘You mean someone else is as smart as me?’  Sangita leaned forward and covered my spare hand with both of hers.  My breath sounded ragged and harsh in the airless room, as she continued.  ‘I swear I’ll do all I can to help you  – there’s so much support out there, you know?  I can call people for you.  There’s no shame in asking for help.’

I pulled my hand away.  ‘Look, Doctor Chawla, If I screw up here, people might die. I mean really.  Not some ridiculous metaphor, but really dead-and-gone.  Do you understand?’

Sangita edged closer.  ‘Yes. I understand perfectly.’

I felt the stinking, disinfectant-tainted air filling my lungs.  Air that when exhaled would carry with it the first load of tawdry evil.

I opened my mouth to let the first word escape when the door swung open and a portly, avuncular man in a straining pinstripe suit and teddy-bear patterned bowtie strode in.  ‘Doctor Chawla, according to the roster, you finished your shift over four hours ago.  I suggest you go home before Castlerigg is sued for driving its housemen into the ground.’

Sangita stood in deference to our intruder.  Mr Maxwell…’ she began, and I knew we were beaten.

‘If you value your position at this hospital, you will do as you are told and leave.  I believe I have sufficient experience in post-operative care to ensure our patient is well tended, don’t you?’  James Maxwell, dearest friend of Blaine Albermarle, lifted Finn’s hand and took his pulse as he talked.

Sangita turned apologetically to me.  ‘It looks like I’ve got to go, but I’m back here this evening.  I’ll find Finn’s room and talk to you then, yeah?’

The second promise of a talk ‘later’: a million years away, for all the good it would now do.  ‘Sure.’

Sangita Chawla backed out of the room with one last regretful glance at Finn and me.

Maxwell waited until the door had clicked shut then gave me a smile that chilled my soul.  ‘Lilith Bresson.  My, we are honoured.  I believe you’re the first celebrity to grace our humble building since Queen Alexandra paid us a visit in 1908.’  He took the chair that Sangita had just vacated and crossed his legs to show off a pair of gleaming black patent leather brogues.  ‘So, you’re a guest of Lady Albermarle, eh?’

I swallowed hard to get rid of the bile that flooded my mouth.  ‘Guest. Interesting word.’

‘Well, from what I can gather, your position is slightly different to that of young Finn here,’ he said dismissively. ‘I was just about to tee off when I took Blaine’s call: you can tell her that if I get a speeding ticket, I shall be invoicing her directly.  To be honest,  I was rather surprised that her boy had ventured so far afield.’

‘It’s hardly a fucking daytrip!’ I snapped.

‘Miss Bresson, your reputation as a foul-mouthed whore precedes you, so there’s no need for you to prove it in my presence.  I’ve merely come to check that things hadn’t taken any unpleasant turns, and to inform you that I’m taking personal responsibility for Finn’s care, until he makes the foolish decision to discharge himself this evening.  All against his doctor’s advice, of course, but well within his rights as a patient.’

‘Oh God, look at the state of him!’ I pleaded, fighting tears.  ‘Please, just let him stay one night…’

‘I want him out of my hospital, Miss Bresson,’ Maxwell hissed, and I shrank back into my chair.  ‘Tonight.  Lady Albermarle is one of my oldest friends, and I am not about to place her reputation under threat by allowing you to use Castlerigg as your personal forum.  Now, if you can manage to keep that disgusting mouth of yours shut, he can stay here undisturbed until the anaesthetic wears off.  If, however, you decide upon a repeat performance of this morning’s amateur dramatics, or think that Lady Albermarle is in the business of issuing empty threats, you’ll get a demonstration of the kind of damage I can do.’