Chapter Thirteen
Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot
One Month Later – A Friday in March
‘HOW GREAT IS THAT view?’ I asked Quinn as we dumped our cases and looked out of the patio doors from our apartment in Lanzarote. We had our own terrace, with a small plunge pool down some steps on another level. Our vista took in some palm trees and had a view over the rooftops of the other apartments built into the hill, which sloped down to a shimmering blue Atlantic Ocean that stretched out for miles ahead of us.
‘Pretty good,’ she agreed. ‘And it’s great to feel some heat after all the snow back home the last few months.’
‘Ok, how about we unpack and go out to get some nibbles and drinks. We could eat out tonight and see if we can find a club?’ I suggested.
‘Sounds good to me,’ she agreed. Her cottage renovations were in their final phase, and I had some down time after submitting my latest novel to my publishers, so we’d decided to have a week away together for some sun and fun. When we went back home, I had a new project to start working on, and Quinn would be getting settled into Honeysuckle Cottage before starting her new job in April.
We headed out as the sun was starting to set, dressed up for a night on the town, and walked down the steep road that led to the main drag of Puerto del Carmen, where there were lots of restaurants, shops, and bars. Even off season, the place was busy, and the gentle breeze that rolled in from the sea was welcome relief in the heat. I smiled as I breathed in the scent of the ocean, thinking of Kitt immediately. I’d messaged him earlier to let him know we’d arrived safely. I’d done my best to convince him to come away with us both. If anyone needed a holiday, it was him. But as expected, he’d refused, saying he couldn’t leave his mum for that long.
After some delicious calamari and crispy frites, along with a jug of sangria to wash it down, we ordered some ice cream and cocktails and spent the next hour laughing as we traded more of our dating horror stories.
‘Come on then, I’m pleasantly drunk enough to go dancing in this indecent dress,’ I told Quinn as we split the bill and I stood up, tugging on the hem.
‘You look sexy. You should wear my clothes more often, they show off all of your curves.’
‘Because you’re about two sizes smaller than me, Quinn.’
‘I’d rather have your British “arse” than my flat American ass.’
‘Your arse isn’t flat, though admittedly, it isn’t as curvaceous as mine,’ I said as we headed out to walk along the promenade and take our pick of where to go.
‘Hang on a second, I want some smokes,’ she said, darting into a shop. I gasped in amazement as I followed her inside.
‘I had no idea you smoked. I’ve never seen you with one, and we spend a lot of time together.’
‘I started when I was a teenager. I pretty much quit a few years ago, but when I’m out and nicely chilled, I like to have the odd one. You ever smoked?’
‘No, I’d probably choke to death,’ I laughed.
‘Well, when I get you a bit more canned, we’ll give you a test drive.’
‘Canned?’
‘Yeah, you know, sauced, hammered, wrecked, drunk,’ she said, handing over her euros to the shopkeeper.
‘Canned, that’s a new one to me. But you can keep your stinky sticks of death, alcohol is a good enough buzz for me.’
‘Whatever, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,’ she chuckled, ripping the cellophane off the packet and dumping it in a bin outside. She flipped the pack open and managed to do an impressive manoeuvre to get one cigarette to stand up without even touching them, before letting it hang from her lips as she flicked the lighter, her hands shielding the flickering orange flame from the breeze. ‘Ahhhh, it’s been too long,’ she sighed as she inhaled, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling from her lips making me cough.
‘Couldn’t actually be long enough for me,’ I retorted, wafting the vile-smelling stuff out of my face.
‘What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Does my rather disturbing Internet search history for book research count?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘You must have done something bad, like got arrested, done drugs, been kicked out of clubs?’
‘No, no, and no. Let me guess, you can tick off all three?’ I shook my head as she winked at me.
‘Tell me you at least have a tattoo?’
‘Nope,’ I said.
‘Then I’m going to introduce you to the wild side this week.’
‘Quinn, I don’t need drugs, they’re dangerous, and I don’t plan on being arrested or kicked out of anywhere. I have a public persona to maintain now, if I want to keep my publishing contract.’
‘Doesn’t stop you from smoking or getting a tatt,’ she said firmly. ‘Cautious Charlie is about to become Foxy Faulkner,’ she grinned, stubbing out her cigarette as she grabbed my arm and dragged me into a bar that was pumping out some great music.
‘I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,’ I whined.
A Few Hours Later – Early Saturday Morning
‘Sssshhhh,’ I giggled, stumbling over one of the plant pots on the patio as we rolled in at four a.m., more than worse for wear. ‘I need coffee, then water, lots and lots of water.’
‘Liquor coffee? I’m all over that action,’ Quinn slurred.
‘Liqueur coffee, get with the British programme,’ I laughed, plonking myself down on one of the patio chairs to try and focus on the pretty view below, the twinkling lights of the apartments and sea front glistening in the dark. After too many attempts to get the key into the lock, with much accompanying cursing, Quinn finally achieved her goal and pushed the patio doors open and headed inside. The sound of lots of banging and clattering came drifting out, as well as a few more American and British cusses. I was just nodding off in my upright position when she reappeared, bringing a coffee that was more liqueur than actual coffee, but it was nice. When she tried to tempt me into having a cigarette again, I declined and staggered my way through the apartment into my bedroom.
I woke up face down with my lips stuck to the pillow, a banging head, and a dry mouth. I peeled my face off the material, got up, and bounced off the bedroom doorframe before veering left into the bathroom, only to gasp at the state of me. My blonde hair was sticking out at all angles, looking like I’d spent hours backcombing it. I hadn’t removed my makeup last night, and my former sexy smoky-eyed look now resembled a bad attempt at Goth makeup. There was crusty drool all over my cheek and pillow creases all over my forehead. I cleaned my face and brushed my teeth vigorously, then stripped off to have a shower.
I winced as I rubbed the shower cream over my hip, and looked down to see why it was stinging so badly.
‘Quinn Garcia!’ I screamed, shock and horror flooding my veins. ‘What the hell did you do to me last night? I have a tattoo!’
I heard the sound of laughter approaching the bathroom door and glared at her through the wood that separated us. It wasn’t just any tattoo either. Oh no. I had a small outline of a black heart on the front of my hip, with the word “Kitt” stencilled inside it in fancy font.
‘I only suggested getting a tattoo. You came up with that idea all on your own,’ she called through the door.
‘I don’t remember even going into a tattoo parlour, let alone having one done, especially not this,’ I hissed.
‘Really? You were all for it when I agreed it would look cute.’
‘I’m going to bloody kill you.’ I stomped my foot on the tiled floor and aggressively turned off the taps. Wrapping myself in a towel, I stormed over and flung open the door to glare at her.
‘What?’ she protested, leaning against the doorframe in a brown bikini, with an innocent look on her face. ‘It’s tiny, and you picked it. It’s not like I dragged you in there against your will and forced a skull and crossbones design on your arm, where everyone could see it.’
‘I can see it. I can see it, Quinn, and it implies more than friendship with Kitt,’ I muttered, pointing down in its general vicinity.
‘Hmmm, it does, doesn’t it? Maybe seeing it in black and white everyday will open your eyes and make you realise you’re not friends anymore. You’re more.’
‘Off limits topic,’ I warned her as I turned right and headed into my bedroom. ‘I can’t believe you let this happen while I was so drunk I didn’t even know it was happening. I’m stuck with this for life. And why do you look so fresh this morning, when I feel like hell?’ I demanded.
‘Because I’m a city girl. I’m hardened to a heavy night, unlike you soft Dilbury-ers,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll put some coffee on and grab you a bottle of water and some pastries for breakfast, they’ll help soak up the alcohol. I’m out on the terrace when you’re ready.’
‘I hate you,’ I yelled, as I pulled out a pair of my lacy knickers and my sarong.
‘No, you don’t. I make you have fun,’ she yelled back.
‘Fun, I’ll give you fun,’ I muttered under my breath, seething from every pore.
I slipped on my knickers and tied my sarong around my bust, knotting it tightly to stop it from slipping down, and smoothed my damp hair back into a high ponytail. Grabbing my sun lotion and glasses, I padded barefoot through the open-plan kitchen, dining room, and lounge and out through the patio doors to find Quinn sitting reading. She had her feet up on one of the chairs and there was an array of tasty-looking pastries sitting next to a steaming coffee, glass of orange juice, and a bottle of water on the table next to her.
‘Am I forgiven?’ she asked, giving me a sheepish look.
‘No, that will be sometime never,’ I retorted, the annoyance still apparent from my tone, which I immediately softened. ‘But thank you for this, it looks good. What are you reading?’ I asked as I sat next to her and tore off a piece of almond-filled croissant.
‘Some filthy book written by this English author you may have heard of,’ she grinned, flashing me her screen to show me one of my books.
‘I’m explicit. Trust me, there’s a difference between explicit and filthy.’
‘I’m a pretty good judge of both, with a lot more experience than you,’ she scoffed. ‘Some of this is filthy. I can’t believe Daphne reads them.’
‘Whatever,’ I said, aiming for indifference, but not able to keep myself from smiling. ‘You’ll be paying for the tattoo removal when we get home.’
‘Oh, don’t get rid of it, it’s super cute. Give it a while and if you really hate it, you could always see if they could alter Kitt to McFitty or fill it in so it’s a solid black heart,’ she suggested. I gave her a look over the top of my glasses and picked up my juice, chugging it all back to relieve my dry mouth.
After finishing my food, coffee, and the small bottle of water, I was feeling a little more human again, and slathered myself in carrot oil. It was my go-to lotion when I was extra pale as it really deepened my tan, but the damn stuff was so greasy. I couldn’t be bothered to get up to wash my hands, so I wiped them on my sarong and used the ends of the knot to get all of the excess oil out from between my fingers.
‘Do you have to?’ I sighed as Quinn lit a cigarette.
‘Are you going to be miserable all damn holiday?’
‘It’s a horrible habit.’
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Once you’ve smoked one, then you’re qualified to give unsolicited advice.’
‘Fine, give me the damn lighter,’ I said, snatching it out of her left hand. She grinned and pushed the packet of nasal torture over towards me, shaking it to make one jump out for me. I whipped it out and stuck it between my lips, trying to emulate her, then grimaced as the paper stuck to my skin.
‘I ought to film this. I never actually thought you’d go through with it.’
‘Anything to shut you up and make you stop,’ I muttered, the cigarette happily welded to my bottom lip, dangling as I spoke. I ran my thumb over the flint wheel to get the lighter to spark, but my fingers were so greasy they kept slipping.
‘Wow, you really are missing the cool gene,’ Quinn chuckled as she watched me try again and again. ‘Hand it over, before you take a layer of skin off your thumb.’
‘I can do it,’ I told her, pushing her hand away. I already felt like the boring class nerd around her, I didn’t need her reminding me how “uncool” I was. I smirked at her as I covered my thumb in part of the knotted sarong, struck it again, and the lighter ignited first time. Dangling my cigarette over the open flame, I inhaled and choked. ‘Jesus, this is disgusting,’ I coughed, slapping the lighter back down on the table.
‘Ermmm, Charlie,’ Quinn said, her eyes opening wide as she looked at me in horror. I managed to remove the cigarette from my lips, taking a layer of skin off them with it, and tried to hold it the way I’d seen her do.
‘What? Am I holding it wrong as well? Maybe I’m starting a whole new cool way to handle the puke-inducing, rank stick that tastes like ass.’
‘Forget the cigarette, you’re on fire.’
‘My wit’s always at an all-time high when I’m pissed off,’ I agreed.
‘No,’ she yelled, standing up so fast she knocked her chair over. ‘You’re on fire, actual fire.’ She pointed at me, and I looked down and shrieked, dropping the cigarette as my hands flew to the knot on my bust, where small flames were licking and rapidly creeping across the thin material. I shot up, my hands shaking as I started to feel the heat between my breasts, and I desperately tried to undo the knot. The flames were scorching my fingers as I tried, and my heart broke into a panicked canter as I started to hyperventilate. ‘Pull it down, pull it over your hips,’ she screamed as I felt the building heat on my face.
I tugged at the sides of the sarong and it fell down, coming to rest on my hips. God damn it, why did they have to be two inches wider than my damn bust? All I could see was a mass of orange flames coming from my waist as heat and panic set in, and Quinn started slapping at them with her e-Reader. All I could think of was getting wet to douse them, but we had no water on the table. My eyes darted from the open patio doors over to the plunge pool, trying to decide which was closer. The bathroom won, and with Quinn screaming like a banshee behind me, I took off at a pace an Olympian would have been proud of. By the time I skidded into the bathroom, I didn’t need to put the light on. The flames were licking at the underside of my bare breasts as I threw myself into the shower and spun the tap, screaming as the cold water blasted me back against the glass screen.
There was a sizzling sound as the water doused the flames, and I stood shaking under the freezing water, plunged back into darkness. Moments later, I heard a shriek and saw Quinn shooting across the floor past the open bathroom door on her backside, with a washing-up bowl full of water on her lap. She disappeared out of sight, a loud thud coming from my bedroom, followed by a moan and a load of swearing. I felt spaced out, like I wasn’t really here or experiencing anything. Had that seriously just happened? The only thing that felt real was the horrible sensation of burning pain in my hands.
‘Jesus, love, are you alright?’ a strange man panted as he appeared in the bathroom.
I opened my mouth to protest at the intrusion, but nothing came out. Somehow my sore hands found their way to cover my naked breasts as I blinked at him, still not really sure what had just happened.
‘Jean, get in here,’ he yelled as he turned the light on.
‘Is she ok, is my friend ok?’ I heard Quinn shout. ‘She set herself on fire.’
‘Oh God,’ a lady said as she joined the man in the bathroom and stared at me. I felt like an animal on display in the zoo. Who the hell were these people? What was going on? Blood was roaring in my ears, there were black spots in my vision, and I felt myself starting to sway on the spot. ‘We need to sit her down, she’s going into shock. Call an ambulance, then grab a sheet and soak it in cold water to wrap around her,’ the lady ordered as she came towards me and smiled, holding out her hands.
‘What … what’s happening?’ I asked, my teeth chattering together uncontrollably. Why was I shaking so much and why was it getting darker in here again?
‘Come on, love, take my hands. You’ve been in an accident. I need to get you lying down as your blood pressure is dropping. My name’s Jean, and I used to be a nurse, so you’re in safe hands.’
I did as I was told, and heard myself let out a pitiful moan right before everything went black.
When I came back around, I was lying on the sofa in the lounge, wrapped tightly in a cold, wet sheet. Quinn was biting her thumbnail as she stood on one leg and stared at me, while Jean sat on the coffee table, holding my wrist as she looked at her watch.
‘Oh God, you’re awake. Are you ok?’ Quinn asked.
‘What’s happened? Why do I feel so awful?’ I moaned. ‘My hands are really stinging.’
‘Your hands hurt? How about anywhere else?’ Jean asked as she let go of my wrist and turned my hands over to look at them.
‘No, just my hands, and I feel really sick and cold,’ I said, shivering again despite the heat of the sun reaching through to where I lay. I saw Quinn and Jean exchange a concerned look. ‘My sarong … my sarong caught fire,’ I whispered, not sure if it was a statement or a question.
‘There’s not much of it left, a sliver of material around your waist and the knot, that’s it,’ Quinn said with a grimace as she nodded her confirmation that I hadn’t just dreamed the last few minutes. ‘God, Charlie, you scared me. The flames were … Jean said you’ve got some bad burns and need to go to the hospital, we’re waiting for the ambulance.’
‘I’m fine. Apart from cold and shaking, and how much my hands hurt, I’m fine,’ I said, trying to sit up. Jean gently pushed me back down.
‘You need to stay lying down for me. Your blood pressure plummeted with the shock of what happened. Your hands will be ok, they’ve not even blistered. You’ve just scalded them, see?’ she said, holding them up for me to inspect. They were bright red, but so sore. ‘Quinn, can you get some tea towels and soak them in cold water? We can wrap them around her hands to soothe the burn.’
Quinn nodded and started hopping towards the kitchen.
‘What’s wrong, are you ok?’ I called.
‘I think I broke my toe,’ she moaned. ‘I filled the washing-up bowl with water to throw over you, but as I ran with it, the water sloshed over the side. I slipped on it and shot down the corridor and stubbed my toe on your wardrobe.’
‘Oh no,’ I giggled. Jean raised her eyebrows as she looked down at me. ‘It’s funny. The whole thing is funny. It could only happen to me,’ I laughed. I heard Quinn starting to laugh as well, and pretty soon we were both in tears as we guffawed, with Jean looking between us like we were crazy. She wrapped my hands up in the wet tea towels, which made me laugh even harder. Seriously, stuff like this really could only happen to me.
‘Jean, the ambulance is here. Can she walk or shall they bring the stretcher?’
‘Stretcher please, Bob,’ she called.
‘I’m … really … going to … hospital?’ I asked, giggling and gasping for air between words.
‘Yes. I’ll give Quinn my number, ring us when you’ve been treated and let us know how you are. We have the apartment upstairs, you’re lucky we were so close. Bob thought one of you was being raped, you were screaming so loud, so we ran straight down.’
‘Thank you, you’ve been really kind,’ I said, reaching up to wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes.
It seemed like the whole apartment complex had turned out to see what was going on as I was wheeled out on the stretcher and led down the pretty path bordered by cactus and palm trees towards the waiting ambulance, Quinn hopping her way alongside me.
‘Seriously,’ she said when we were both inside and the ambulance started up, ‘you couldn’t have waited until the last day of the holiday to have a medical disaster?’
‘Sorry,’ I grinned, feeling much more like myself and wondering what all the fuss was about, as I felt fine now except for my sore hands.
We arrived at Arrecife hospital and I cried out for Quinn as I was suddenly whisked away down a corridor, leaving her behind.
‘I’ll find you,’ she yelled as the lights on the ceiling whipped past above me.
I was taken into a large room and suddenly surrounded by people peeling off the tea towels and sheet as they spoke rapidly in Spanish. I was getting used to being seen virtually naked in hospitals, but what I wasn’t used to was having no idea what was going on. When a man leaned over me, speaking to me in Spanish, I shook my head.
‘Inglés,’ I said. He frowned and pointed at my stomach.
‘Sol? Errrr, this … sol?’ he asked. I shook my head, understanding he was asking if I had a sunburn.
‘No, feugo, fire.’ I bounced my eyes between everyone as they all started jabbering again, and someone appeared with a pair of scissors and made a move towards my hip. ‘No, these are my expensive lucky knickers, please don’t cut them off,’ I protested. ‘They cost fifteen pounds from Marks and Spencers.’
I was ignored as the tattered remains of my favourite pair were whipped off me and tossed in the trash. I was lifted, turned, tilted, and generally tossed around as they created the most enormous nappy out of bandages and used a big silver safety pin to secure them, then they managed to sit me up to put the dreaded open-back gown on me, before making me lie down again. Moments later, I was being shuttled out of the room and off down another corridor.
My laughter had worn off. The blood pounding in my veins felt as if it was turning to ice as fear set in. I had no idea what was going on, why I needed to be padded like this, or where the hell Quinn was. I was taken into a small bay with six hospital beds, and the staff slid me onto one of them, then disappeared.
A nurse arrived soon after and took my arm, tapping for a vein before she inserted a cannula in the crook of my elbow and attached a drip of clear fluid. She smiled at me before disappearing and leaving me on my own. I finally gave in to some tears. I’d give anything right now for an uninterested Dr. Fitton to come and tell me factually what was wrong, what was going to happen, and when I could go home, or even where Quinn was. After half an hour of frustrated tears, I finally gave in and closed my eyes and went to sleep, hoping when I woke up I’d have some answers.
‘Charlie? Oh God, I’ve been so worried. No one around here seems to speak any English.’
‘Quinn,’ I called as I opened my eyes and saw her struggling over on a pair of crutches, with her toes strapped up and bandaged. ‘What the hell is going on?’ I asked, struggling to sit up.
‘I don’t know. I asked so many times where you were, I gave up waiting and came looking for you. Are you ok?’
‘Define ok. I’m wearing a huge nappy, I have no clothes, and I’ve no idea what’s in this drip,’ I told her as she plonked herself in the visitor’s chair. ‘What have you done?’
‘Broken my toe,’ she grimaced. ‘It kills.’
‘How long have we been here?’
‘Hours. It’s late afternoon, you’ve obviously been asleep for a while.’
‘Do you have my phone?’ I asked. She nodded and rummaged in her bag and handed it over. I was grateful to see a signal and thankful I’d saved the number for the insurance company in it. When I rang them and explained what had happened, and that we had no idea what was going on, they told me to give them the name of the hospital and they’d ring them for answers. An hour later, they called back to say that I was being kept in for assessment the next morning. When I objected, saying no one spoke English and that I had no clothes or supplies with me, they agreed for me to get a taxi back to the apartment. They explained I would need to go to the English-speaking clinic in Puerto del Carmen the next morning to be checked, then rang the hospital to ask them to release me.
I was unhooked from the saline solution they’d been rehydrating me with and helped off the bed. Quinn burst out laughing as the giant nappy bandage immediately slid off my hips and landed in a heap on the floor, which made me groan and close my eyes from embarrassment. I had to stand with my arms in the air, naked but for the damn hospital gown, as the staff argued in Spanish the best way to wrap me up so that I could walk, and finally we were in a taxi on our way back. Jean expressed her surprise to see us, but sent Bob to collect two large pizzas for our dinner. She told us to have an early night, asking me to let her know how the appointment went at the clinic the following morning.
The Next Day – Sunday
‘Honestly,’ I told the dishy English-speaking Spanish doctor as he unravelled my bandages, ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I feel fine apart from my stinging hands and the underside of my breasts.’
‘He’s just doing his job,’ Quinn said, trying to placate me. She gasped, her crutches falling with a loud clatter to the floor as her hands flew to her mouth when the last of the bandages were removed.
‘What? What?’ I asked, trying to look down, but my t-shirt clad boobs were in the way.
‘Don’t look, Charlie, don’t look. Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick,’ she moaned, turning green as she leaned back against the wall for support.
‘I agree, it’s best you don’t look,’ the doctor said. ‘I need you to lie down. The hospital, they discharged you?’ he asked, sounding puzzled.
‘Yes, why? Someone tell me what’s going on.’
‘You have very bad burns on your stomach and hip,’ he said, craning his neck to look behind me at my bare bottom. ‘Here, too.’
‘How bad?’ I asked, looking over at Quinn, who still had her mouth covered by her hands. She shook her head.
‘It’s like a car crash. I know I shouldn’t look, but I can’t tear my eyes away. You have an enormous green fluid-filled blister hanging off your side.’
‘But I can’t feel anything, it doesn’t hurt,’ I said, trying to decide if I wanted to look or not.
‘Burns this deep … they … how you say … kill the nerves,’ the doctor said. ‘So, no pain. You need to go to hospital.’
‘No,’ I said, firmly shaking my head. ‘I’m not going back there. No one speaks English, please don’t make me. Can’t I stay here?’ I pleaded. ‘I’m insured if that’s the problem.’
‘Charlie, I think we need to go home, get you treated there,’ Quinn suggested.
‘I totally agree, even better idea,’ I nodded as I was told to lie on my right-hand side while he figured out a way to re-dress me, which ended up with me being wrapped in bandages again, with a large white tubular mesh being pulled over the top of them to hold them in place. ‘I feel like a Cumberland sausage,’ I giggled as Quinn came to squeeze my arm while the doctor left the room to speak to the insurance company.
‘You really can’t feel anything?’
‘Not a sausage. Oh, nice pun by me,’ I grinned.
‘Well, they ought to take pictures of those gross blisters and put them on cigarette packets as a warning. I’m never touching one again.’
‘I think it was more the whole carrot oil and flame combo than the cigarettes, not that I’m going to complain.’
‘You were so lucky. Imagine if your long hair had been down, or if you didn’t have such big breasts, your face could have been burnt so badly. I’m going to go and see what’s happening, find out how soon we can get home, ok?’
‘Ok,’ I sighed. ‘I’m so sorry for ruining your holiday.’
‘Our holiday, and to be honest, I’m so shaken up over it all, I just want to get home too,’ she said.
A Week Later – Friday
‘I’m being moved again?’ I complained, as Dr. Fitton came to re-dress my burns and told me that he’d secured a bed at Stoke hospital for me, as they had a specialist burns unit that was better equipped to handle me. We’d landed at Birmingham airport two hours earlier, and an ambulance had been waiting to bring me to Shrewsbury, with Quinn getting a taxi home once I’d been dropped off here.
‘Trust me, Charlie, it’s the best place for you. You have first, second, and third-degree burns. I’m amazed the clinic over there released you, though lucky for us they did. They mistakenly deroofed your blisters and it looks like you have an infection in this worst section on your side,’ he said, frowning as he reapplied the dressings. ‘You’re dating your friend now?’
‘What?’ I asked, thrown by his medical assessment. I’d had no idea it was so bad.
‘You have his name tattooed on your hip.’
‘Oh God, I’d forgotten,’ I groaned, covering my face with my hands. ‘I was drunk and Quinn dragged me into the shop. I had no idea until the next day. Seriously, that survived the burns?’
‘Wrong side of your body, they’re all on the left.’
‘Great, Kitt will kill me if he finds out. And no, we’re not seeing each other. Still just very good friends,’ I added. As if on cue, I heard his voice frantically calling for me, and I hastily pulled my dress down to cover everything up. ‘Can he come in?’
‘I suppose so,’ Guy nodded, pulling back the curtain. Kitt raced to my side and pulled me up into a seated position as he hugged me tightly. I returned it, immediately feeling comforted to have him by my side. I felt my eyes stinging, and moments later, I was sobbing. I had no idea why. I hadn’t cried since that first day, when I’d been left alone not knowing what was happening in the hospital in Lanzarote. Why was I crying now?
‘God, I’ve been so worried,’ he murmured, stroking my hair before kissing the top of my head. ‘Are you ok?’
‘I am now … I’m home,’ I sighed, burying my face in his neck. Whenever Kitt was around, I felt calmed and at peace. He centred me. Why didn’t he make my heart race like Dr. Fitton did?
‘Can you give us some privacy please?’ I heard Kitt say, in a tone that sounded far more dominant and bossy than I’d ever heard him use.
‘I need to check on the transport for her anyway. I’ll be back shortly,’ Guy said. I heard his footsteps leaving and felt Kitt running a soothing hand up and down my back.
‘Deep breaths, Charlie, it’s going to be ok.’
‘I missed you, I missed Tibbs, and I miss my home. They’re sending me to Stoke, but I just want to go home. Please can you see if I can go home?’ I begged, dragging an arm across my face as he carefully pushed me back to lie against the pillows.
‘If he says you need to be admitted, you need to be admitted, Charlie. What about your parents, do they know?’
‘No,’ I sniffed, accepting a tissue he pulled out of the pocket of his jeans. ‘I didn’t want to scare them. Besides, I didn’t think it was that serious.’
‘It is from what Quinn tells me. Don’t worry, she’s safely back at Abbie’s being looked after, and Georgie’s still happy to look after Mrs. Tibbles until you’re home. Well, happy is maybe a slight exaggeration. She said she’s the spawn of Satan,’ he grinned, making me smile. ‘That’s better. I’m not used to seeing tearful Charlie. You’re usually so strong, seeing the humour in everything.’
‘I have laughed,’ I said, wiping my eyes before honking my snotty nose. ‘I promise I’ve laughed a lot. They had to book a whole row of seats for me so I could lie on my side in the plane, as I couldn’t sit on my blistered bottom or have the seat belt on.’
‘Really? How are you sitting now?’ he asked. I lifted up a cheek to show him the giant inflatable rubber ring I was sitting on to take the pressure off the blistering on my butt cheeks. I giggled, and he chuckled and shook his head.
‘And how many people can say that they were stretchered out of a plane through the food loading hatch and whizzed through back corridors, avoiding the hell of baggage reclaim?’
‘Not many, I’d imagine,’ he smiled, using his index finger to sweep my fringe off my face. ‘Except for Quinn too.’
‘I owe her another holiday for this,’ I said.
‘I think the words “I’m never going away with her again, she’s a walking bloody disaster” may have been mentioned when she called me from the taxi on the way home,’ he laughed.
‘I’ll convince her.’
‘You can be very persuasive, Miss Faulkner.’
‘Enough about me and my drama, how are you? How have things been? You look even more tired than when I left,’ I said, picking up his hand and giving it a squeeze.
‘I’m ok. Better for seeing you and that smile again. It could melt ice, it’s so bright.’
‘Stop distracting me with flattery. Talk to me.’
‘You don’t need to hear about me, you need to focus on getting better. I’ll cancel work tonight so I can follow the ambulance up to Stoke and make sure you’re ok.’
‘Kitt, you don’t have to do that.’
‘I know I don’t, I want to. Do you have clean clothes and toiletries?’
‘A suitcase full of stuff I barely touched,’ I said, flicking my head in its direction.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Well, there is one thing,’ I said, biting my lower lip as I looked up at him from under my lashes. ‘Something I’ve been dreaming about ever since I said goodbye to you last week.’
‘I don’t think they allow that in a hospital,’ he grinned.
‘I’d be prepared to go outside if need be, or in the toilet to do it secretly. I’m desperate, Kitt. The ambulance will be ages as it’s not an emergency.’
‘Fine,’ he laughed, pulling out his phone. ‘One pepperoni pizza being ordered for delivery now, but I’m warning you, it won’t taste anywhere near as good as mine.’
‘Of course it won’t, but sometimes a girl just has to make do with second best.’