A plump woman with gold-rimmed glasses and a pixie cut came by offering us tea and biscuits. We accepted both but touched neither.
“You should go and get some sleep,” I told Alfie through the pain and nausea.
“As if I could sleep while you’re here.”
Over the next few hours, my dignity disappeared. When I bled so much they had to change the sheets, Alfie carried me to the bathroom to clean me up. He lowered me onto the toilet and despite the nurse offering to do it, he pulled off the underwear and pad himself. He folded it quickly so I couldn’t see and put it in the disposal.
When it hurt to wipe myself he did it for me, somehow more gently than I could have done it. I cried, leaning on his shoulder, sitting on a toilet in a hospital gown. He didn’t tell me I was alright, or that everything was going to be okay. He just knelt on the floor in his expensive suit and held me until I could breathe again.
With him holding me up, I made it back to bed. I lay there, in too much pain to talk. I cried, I slept, I tried to drink something only to throw it up again and cry more from the pain in my ribs.
It was early hours of the morning now. The ward was quiet but there was noise outside. The rush of A&E on a Friday night. I felt like we were hiding in a castle while a war waged outside. A war we had no part of.
There were no windows and I couldn’t see the time, but I knew when day came. The cramps had eased a little but the throbbing in my head and chest were worse.
Alfie asked me if I was hungry for the hundredth time. He wanted to fix everything but he couldn’t.
“I need you to tell me what will help.”
“I just want my mum,” I said and then fresh tears came.
“I can get Keira. Or Natalie. I’ll bring them.”
“No, please. I don’t want to see anyone right now. Can we leave? I just want to go.”
“Not until the doctor says so.”
I wanted to argue but I knew there was no point. “Are there any updates on Maia yet? Or have the police said anything?”
“You shouldn’t be worrying about that right now.”
“It’ll take my mind off it. Please.”
“They’ve arrested a couple of people but the family is well connected enough that it will probably come to nothing. The police will want a statement from you when you’re feeling better, for now I’ve told them to stay away. Elliot has already reached out to arrange paying off your fathers debt.”
“Maia?”
“Out of surgery. Not out of the woods.”
I waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. “I want to see her.”
“Not today.”
“Please…”
“No. I forbid it. You’re staying in that bed until they discharge you and then I’m taking you home. You will rest and you will fucking relax and stop worrying about everyone else when you were nearly fucking killed. Do you understand?”
We stared at each other, each of us waiting for the other to attack again. I didn’t have it in me and he was already sorry for snapping at me. He was grieving too. It was his baby too. I stroked his cheek and he kissed my palm. Finally he laid his head down in my lap and after a while, I felt him drift off to sleep.
It was late afternoon before they finally agreed to discharge me. Alfie made getting me ready his project while they got the paperwork together.
My phone was in a plastic bag along with my purse, both rescued from the crash site. I hadn’t switched it on yet. I wasn’t ready for the onslaught of concern from friends, family, or to face what was likely all over the news. A shoot out resulting in the deaths of multiple people didn’t just happen in small towns in England.
I was sipping a cup of tea under Alfie’s close supervision when I recognised a familiar voice coming down the hall.
“Why is Ada here?”
“I asked her to come and bring some of your things with you. I thought she might know better what you need…what women's things you need. Also, I wanted Elliot here.” He raised a hand before I could say anything. “I know you didn’t want visitors but we still need protection and you need care, I assumed you’d prefer them over strangers.” Once again, he was right.
