‘What? To inspect the damage?’ replied Daniel, his words ringing with scorn.
Then he lowered his voice and I didn’t quite catch what he said next. It sounded like, ‘Probably his wife’.
Raising his voice again, he carried on, ‘If you’re worried, why not ring the police? You’ll have to anyway for insurance. That window will have to be replaced.’
‘Fine,’ said Emily petulantly. ‘Don’t worry about me. You’d better get precious Olivia to hospital.’
* * *
As Daniel’s car pulled into the hospital car park I began to shake again and then I started to cry. Not gentle sniffs and delicate tears — no, they were great, strangled gulps and guttural sobs accompanied by a runny nose. Very unattractive, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Hey, come on, Olivia,’ said Daniel, as he pulled deftly into a parking slot. ‘It’s all right.’
‘S-s-sorry,’ I gasped. ‘I c-c-can’t . . .’
He leaned over, pulling my head onto his chest. Gradually my tears subsided. I gave my nose an elephant-blow into thepristine white hanky he’d pressed into my hands. I made the most of the situation and snuggled into his broad chest. I could feel his heart beating, strong and steady under the soft lambswool.
As I grew calmer, he shifted, cupping my chin in his hands to wipe away the tears with his thumbs. Instantly my heart took up a salsa rhythm. Adrenaline rush, I told myself. Just shock. I can handle a 300-bpm heart rate. Deep breaths. That would help.
Unfortunately I over did the breathing and started to hyperventilate. At which point Daniel started stroking my back, his arms around me, as if soothing a highly strung racehorse. The last thing I needed.
It was a relief when he finally opened his car door and said, ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go and get you sorted out.’ From the back seat he pulled out a blanket, which he tucked gently around me.
Sweetheart? Could my heart stand any more havoc? Had he really just called me that?
Calm down, he’s just being kind because you’re injured. If I wasn’t careful I was about to make a terrible fool of myself.
We passed a few diehard smokers just outside and as we stepped through the automatic doors of A & E, the harsh, institutional strip lighting stung my tear-stained, swollen eyes. Although it was after 3.00a.m., there was still a sense of efficient purpose about the place. Soft-soled shoes squeaked on the shiny vinyl floors as medical staff strode by.
Daniel escorted me to a grey plastic seat, arranging my blanket round my shoulders before going to speak to a middle-aged lady sitting ramrod straight behind the bare reception desk. No pictures or flowers just dismal public health warnings about smoking and heart disease. Their low-voiced conversation washed over me as I closed my eyes drowsily, happy to let him take charge. He managed to get so far, remembering my date ofbirth and postcode but had to come back and rouse me for my GP’s details.
Eventually, all paperwork completed, Daniel returned and sat down beside me. It seemed completely natural when his hand took mine. He squeezed my fingers.
‘You OK?’
I nodded, not daring to move, conscious of his warm fingers wrapped around mine.
‘They’re going to get a nurse to take a look at you, but they don’t want you to eat or drink anything until you’ve been seen.’
‘That’s OK. I don’t want anything.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired. A bit spaced out.’
‘Here, put your head on my shoulder.’ He put his arm around me. I snuggled in. Just as I drifted off, I thought I felt the graze of lips on my hair as he shifted position or was that wishful thinking?
* * *
My first thought when I woke was that my bunny slippers looked decidedly out of place in Casualty. However, my blood-stained arm fitted right in with the beaten-up survivors of a brawl who were sat opposite. Both had black eyes, split lips and long ladders in their tights. Propping each other up, they were swaying slightly. One kept nodding off, her head slipping down the other’s shoulder, at which point she would start awake before her head began to droop again.
I checked the clock. We’d been there for over two hours. Lifting my head, I checked I hadn’t dribbled down Daniel’s sweater. No, all clear. No damp patches. He unhooked his arm stretching and wriggling it.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to go to sleep.’
‘You’re fine. How are you feeling?’
‘Better. I’m not going to be—’
