I see a blur materialise in the corner of the room and squint. Reaching for the locker beside the bed, I grab Tristan’s glasses and slide them on. Suddenly everything comes into sharp focus.
“Tristan, your eyesight really is terrible,” I remark.
“Oh, I’m so sorry your current accommodation is not up to standard. Maybe you should leave a review on TripAdvisor next time you decide to hijack someone’s body.”
“I’m detecting a note of sarcasm,” I say mildly, to which he simply stares at me.
I glance over to the corner of the room and realise that the blurry blob that had appeared was, in fact, Delores. Spotting Tristan standing next to the bed, she looks across to me as I lie on the bed also looking like Tristan, and I really do feel for the old bird. Not only is she currently stuck spending her afterlife in a perpetual state of confusion, but now she probably thinks she’s seeing double.
She sidles up slowly beside Tristan and tentatively reaches for his hand. When she finds she can touch him, just like she could with me, she beams up at him widely.
“Beau,” she announces happily.
“Yes, I know,” Tristan sighs. “But one problem at a time, please, Mrs Abernathy.”
I look across the room at the sound of the door handle and before I can utter another word, the door swings open and a very dishevelled Danny enters, looking as if the poor man hasn’t slept a wink, but when his tired gaze falls on me staring at him silently, he lets out a gasp of relief and rushes across the room.
“Tristan! You’re awake. I was so worried.”
Before I can formulate a response, he’s cupping my face in his hands and pressing his warm lips to mine. Giving a squeal of surprise, I scramble back, breaking his grip on my cheeks as I fumble the blankets off my legs, but I misjudge how close I’ve moved to the edge of the bed and roll off, landing on my hands and knees to break my fall. Unfortunately, the gown is barely held together by two flimsy laces and gives a bird’s eye view of my gloriously naked bum.
“Wow,” Tristan murmurs. He stares down at his own naked backside as I struggle to my feet, closing the gown behind me with a flush of embarrassment. “You’re about as graceful as I am. At this rate, he’ll never suspect a thing.”
“Are you alright, Tris?” Danny asks in concern.
“I’m fine,” I say as I edge across the room, keeping the back of the gown closed in my fist. “I’m just… you know, desperate for the loo, so I’m just going to…” I hike a thumb over my shoulder as I back toward the door. “Go and find the toilets.”
“I believe I can help you there, Mr Everett,” a business-like voice announces behind me.
Giving a startled yelp, I turn and step out of the way as a small plump middle-aged nurse marches in—honest to god, marches in like the gunnery sergeant fromFull Metal Jacket,pushing what looks like a wheelchair, until she stops abruptly. She lifts the lid and, to my abject horror, inside is an adult-size potty.
“What the hell is that?” I say flatly.
“It’s a commode,” she replies briskly. “There’s a privacy screen just behind you.” She points to a curtain mounted taut across a wheeled metal frame. “Do you need some help?”
“No, I do not,” I declare indignantly.
“I suggest you empty your bladder, Mr Everett. We gave you a lot of intravenous fluids last night to help flush any foreign substances from your system.”
That would certainly explain why my bladder feels like an overfilled water balloon that’s about to explode.
“Christ, what is this, the Dark Ages?” I glance at the wheelchair slash port-a-potty. “I’m not peeing in that.”
“Come now, Mr Everett, don’t be such a baby.”
“Absolutely not,” I insist adamantly. “I’m going to use the loo like a civilised person although there is also no way I’m walking barefoot across an NHS toilet.”
She lets out a loud huff of impatience, rolling her eyes and retrieving something from a nearby dispenser. What she hands me is a pair of paper foot coverings, the type you’d wear over the top of your shoes at a crime scene.
“Really?” I drawl. “You couldn’t have just got me a pair of slippers?”
“What do you think this is, the Hilton?” she replies, pursing her lips and folding her hands across her waist and under her ample bosom. “It’s that or the commode.”
“Thank you, Nurse Betty.” I give her a sarcastic smile as I primly grasp the back of my gown closed to cover my naked bum, or rather Tristan’s naked bum. I lean down awkwardly, pulling the blue paper booties over my bare feet. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Danny in a softer tone.
“Down the corridor, second door on the left,” the nurse says with a rather unimpressed brow raised. “Mind the red pull cord or you’ll set off the alarm.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a frosty smile as I sail regally from the room.
