1
Alice
As she slipped in and out of consciousness, all Alice could process were the stark white lights overhead, the acrid smell of burning, and the searing heat that ripped through her entire body.
An unfamiliar voice drifted above her. ‘Good God, she’s lucky to be alive.’
She wanted to try and work out where she was. Find out who these voices belonged to, and more importantly who on earth they were talking about. But it hurt to just be, let alone think. Plus, those lights were blinding.
‘Lucky? You think she’s going to feel lucky when she looks in the mirror for the first time? She’s been badly burnt, the poor girl.’
She tried to force her brain into action, fighting against the pull of sleep. Just as she was about to give up and allow the cool safety of darkness to take her, Alice started to piece it all together.
The ‘poor girl’.
The smell.
Theburning.
It was her who was lucky to be alive.
It was her who had been on fire.
2
Alfie
‘There he is! Alfie Mack, the luckiest son of a bitch I know!’
He didn’t need to pull the curtain back to know who had come to visit him – he would never be able to forget that voice, even if he’d wanted to.
‘Notquiteso lucky when they chopped my leg off, but you win some, you lose some, right?’
‘Can’t argue with that one.’ Matty shrugged. ‘Anyway, how have you been, buddy? By the way, I can’t stay long today, got to pick the missus up and go for lunch with the in-laws.’
It was normal for everyone to make their excuses to leave before they’d even taken a seat, and Alfie was grateful to Matty for at least asking how he was first.
‘Yeah, no worries, I’ve got a fairly packed day too.’
‘Really?’
Alfie could tell he was only half listening.
‘Oh yeah, it’s relentless in here. The main challenge is trying to guess the number of times Mr Peterson will get up and go to the toilet this morning. Normally we average a goodseven, but if he has a sip of that apple juice, it could be anything up to ten.’
A disgruntled voice rang out across the ward. ‘When you’re ninety-two and your bladder is about as taut as a dead duck’s arse, you’ll be pissing constantly too.’
‘It’s all right, Mr P, there’s no judgement here. Although, are you sure you weren’t a writer in another life? Your vocabulary is downright poetic.’
The old man across the way in bed fourteen broke into a smile, then very quickly shoved his middle finger up at Alfie and returned to reading his newspaper.
‘Seriously though, mate, how are you doing? How’s the physio going? Any idea yet when you’ll be out of here?’ Matty’s eyes were wide with hope.
Everyone asked the same questions with the same concern. It was strange; on the one hand he knew that they all just wanted him home and out of the hospital, but at the same time he couldn’t help but sense their slight apprehension. He supposed that while he was in the capable hands of St Francis’s nursing staff, it was one less thing they all had to worry about.
‘No idea, if I’m honest. The infection seems to be all under control now. Physio is going well and they’re going to measure me for a custom prosthetic soon. I just need to keep building my strength up. It’s small progress but, as the nurses say … every step is a step closer to the end!’
‘That is theworstmotivational phrase ever. It sounds like you’re walking to your bloody death.’
