His eyes cloud with confusion for a moment as he studies my face, then they widen and when he speaks, his voice is barely more than a whisper, one I have to strain to hear.
“Dusty?” I nod and his hands cover his mouth in shock.
“Hello, princess.” I smile slowly, and his eyes fill with tears. It’s what I’ve called him since we were thirteen and I’m the only one who ever has.
He releases his mouth and gasps, “Oh my god. Dusty?”
I nod again and he reaches out and grabs me, yanking me into his body and holding me so tight I shouldn’t be able to breathe, but astonishingly, it has the opposite effect. It feels like the first time I can breathe properly in a very long time.
“I missed you so much,” he breathes against my neck on a whispered sob.
“I missed you too.” I swallow past the burning knot of emotion in my throat. “It’s been hell being so close to you and being unable to talk to you.”
“Wait a minute.” He pulls back suddenly, holding my shoulders as if he’s afraid I’m going to disappear any moment. “If you’re here… I mean, in there”—he releases one shoulder and indicates Tristan’s body—“then where the hell is Tristan?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, worried. “In here somewhere too? I think.”
“What the fuck happened?” he asks.
“Someone drugged him.”
Chan gasps. “What?”
“He drank a cup of tea and when he was done, he said it tasted funny… bitter. Then he just conked out like a sixteen-year-old in a field after their first two-litre bottle of cider.”
“Well fuck, what do we do?”
“Get him to a hospital,” I say urgently.
“I’ll call an ambulance.” Chan pulls out his phone.
“Don’t bother, it’ll take too long. I’ve got this. Call an Uber. I’ll get his body to the hospital and then jump back out once they’ve got him.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Chan switches apps. “We’re in luck, there's an Uber just round the corner. They’ll be here in a minute. We need to get outside.”
“Delores, come with me,” I call out to the old lady hovering beside us as I turn and head toward the exit. But I can’t seem to get my coordination, so what happens instead of a quick walk is a kind of jerky zombie-like stomp across the room. I intend to lift my hands, but they don’t move in time, and I end up crashing into the door.
“Oh my Christ, it’s like watching bloody Frankenstein,” Chan mutters.
“You try driving someone else’s body.” I frown. “His legs are shorter than mine and my centre of gravity’s all off. You know when you get into a small sports car that’s really low to the ground? That’s what this feels like.”
Chan snorts as he grabs my arm and loops it around his neck. “Come on, I think I see the Uber pulling up.”
He reaches out with the other hand and pushes open the door. A quick glance behind me tells me Delores is at least doing as she’s told and staying close to me, although she’s the least of my problems at the moment.
Chan helps me into an Uber and a short time later we’re pulling up outside St George’s and being dumped out next to the ambulance bay.
“Now what?” Chan says as the car pulls away.
“We go in and let them fix Tristan.” I lurch toward the entrance.
“No, wait!” Chan says and I pause. “If we go in there with Tris walking and talking like normal, they’re not going to take us seriously… wait here.” He disappears inside the entrance and reappears moments later with a wheelchair. “Get in.” He shoves me into the chair. “You need to be unconscious.”
“Oh right, gotcha.” I wink and close my eyes, letting Tristan’s body go limp.
“Perfect.” He starts wheeling me toward the doors. “Show time!”
It’s so tempting to open my eyes and see what’s going on but I can’t. I concentrate on pretending I’m unconscious so that as soon as the doctors have got Tristan I can slip back out of his body—which sounds a lot dirtier than it actually is—and leave him in good hands.
