“Yes. It’s a concern with any blunt-force injury.”
“Is he conscious?”
“In and out, but that’s to be expected. We’ve stabilised him with fluids and oxygen, and we’re monitoring his BP. After the ultrasound, we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with, but for now, it’s a watch-and-wait situation.”
I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. “Can I sit with him?”
“Of course. Come with me.” The doctor walked me to the alarmed doors at the end of the corridor. He buzzed us through. “Don’t expect much sense from him. He’s pretty groggy, and we’ve given him morphine and anti-emetics. Come and find me if you think he needs more.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
But the doctor was already gone—reminding me that NHS hospitals were nothing like the fictional emergency departments onSky Atlantic—and I was left to track down Joe by myself.
I found him on a bed in the RESUS department. A nurse was monitoring him and the bed next door. I caught her eye. “Am I in your way if I stand here?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Let me know if he wakes up.”
That didn’t seem likely. Joe was on his back, his face deathly pale and lined with pain, but there was no sign of him being awake. Oxygen tubes snaked into his nose and his arm was hooked up to an IV. I read the label on the bag, but it didn’t mean much to me. My medical knowledge was limited to rehabilitation, and I was so far out of my depth right now that I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Joe’s hand seemed a good place to start. I took it and turned it over, checking for injury beneath the dirt ground into his skin, before I twined my fingers with his and squeezed, hoping for a reaction. But there was none. I touched his cheek, gently brushing away some dried mud, and squeezed his hand a little harder. “All right, mate. I’m here. You’re not on your own.”
Whether he heard me or not, I had no idea.
They took him for an ultrasound a little while later. Waiting in an empty space freaked me out, so I stepped outside to respond to the increasingly panicked messages I was getting from the farm. I called Emma. She answered on the first ring, breathless, her voice tight.
“He’s okay at the moment,” I said quickly, even though it was far from true. “They weren’t sure if he’d hit his head, so they did some tests, and he’s fine in that respect.”
“But?”
I tilted my face to the sky and gazed at the stars, tracking an airplane as it passed Orion’s Belt. “He took a nasty kick to his abdomen. The doctors are worried that it’s damaged him internally. They’ve taken him for an ultrasound to find out.”
Emma sucked in a breath. “What does that evenmean? I thought he might have broken his ribs again—internal damage... shit, Harry. How serious is that?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out after the ultrasound. Have you called your mum?”
“I’ve left her a message. She doesn’t get a signal at her brother’s house, and there was no one in when I called.”
“Okay. What about Shadow? Did you get him calmed down?”
“I got him in his stable, but I might have to get the vet back out if he doesn’t stop booting his door. And he’s still got that huge splinter in his leg. I can’t get near him to take it out.”
The splinter was news to me, but the amped-up stress lacing Emma’s every word was horribly familiar. “Is George still with you? And Toby? Who’s watching the ponies?”
“George is. He’s moved them to the tack room so they’re closer to the house and put the donkey’s in the foaling stable, but he was up all night in the paddock, so I’ll have to send him home soon. And I can’t let Toby stay. He’s not old enough to work overnight.”
As I processed the dizzying influx of information, I found it hard to believe that George or Toby would leave the farm—or Emma—in an hour of need. But the fact remained that Joe worked so much it would take three pairs of hands to replace him. “Is there anyone else you can call for help? Friends? Neighbours?”
Emma blew out a breath. “There’s only one person I can call, but Joe will go ballistic. I’ll just have to manage.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You’re not going to leave my brother, Harry. I don’t know what’s going on between you, but I’m pretty sure I won’t see you until we know he’s okay.”
She wasn’t wrong. “I’m going to go back in. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
“Okay. Harry, I—”
“Don’t. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just take care of the horses so he’s got one less thing to worry about.”
