‘Jack?’ I whispered.
My head was killing. It felt like a migraine, the worst migraine I’d ever had. My mouth was dry and sore, as if it had been bleeding, and when I reached up to touch my skull, I could feel a dressing covering a tender area at the back.
‘Just be quiet,’ the figure leaning over me said in a soft voice. ‘The doctor says you mustn’t get excited.’
I pushed myself up, not without an effort, and batted away the hand he’d laid on my shoulder.
‘Ethan. What’re you doing here?’
‘I am your husband, Kitty.’
‘Not for long.’ I blinked at my surroundings. My eyes were struggling to focus. ‘Where is here? Is it hospital?’
‘Yes. You’ve got a concussion.’ He shook his head. ‘Why the hell were you climbing out of a window, you silly thing?’
‘Why the hell was your manky aftershave in my mum’s bathroom? Ow!’ I reached up to rub my temples. Raising my voice was making the throbs batter me harder.
He blinked. ‘You what?’
‘I saw it, Ethan! Don’t go giving me that hallucination crap again, Mum already tried that one.’
‘But why would I keep aftershave in your mum’s bathroom?’
‘You tell me.’
I glanced down at what I was wearing. It was a blue hospital gown, standard issue. Everything was spinny and blurred but I could just make out my clothes, the suit I’d worn to the funeral, laid out on a chair a little way from me. My white blouse was spattered with blood – mine, I was assuming. I must’ve hit my head pretty hard to make a mess like that.
‘Pass me my trousers,’ I said to Ethan. My voice felt fluffed, like I was talking through cotton wool.
‘You’re not checking yourself out? You’re full of painkillers, Kitty. It’s not safe.’
‘Just pass them me.’
He handed over the trousers with a puzzled look and I rummaged in the pocket.
‘It’s gone,’ I mumbled to myself.
‘What’s gone?’
‘The bottle, it… where’s Jack?’
‘Oh, sod Jack,’ Ethan said, scowling. ‘Who cares where he is? I’m your husband. I’m the one with the right to be here.’
‘I want to talk to Jack.’ My voice was trembling. The bottle, the aftershave… I was sure I’d put it in my pocket. And now… but my brain was so groggy with the concussion and the meds, I could barely think. Could it have fallen out? ‘Ethan, give me my mobile. Please!’ I said when he didn’t move. ‘I need to call Jack, now.’
‘I can’t,’ he said, not without the hint of a smug smile. ‘It’s in bits. You smashed it to atoms when you fell.’
‘But I have to—’
The curtains of my little cubicle drew back, and a friendly-looking doctor came in.
‘And how are we feeling?’ she asked me with a bright smile.
‘Like my head’s made of dough.’
It was only then I noticed how thick and slugged my voice was. I sounded like I’d just downed twelve pints. Of absinthe.
‘That’s just the morphine,’ she said. ‘Trust me, you’d rather have a head made of dough right now than one made of brain.’
‘She’s not in any danger, is she?’ Ethan asked in a worried voice.
The doctor shot him a glance. ‘You’re the next of kin?’
‘I’m her husband.’
‘Soon to be ex-husband,’ I muttered.
The doctor blinked. ‘Oh. I see.’
‘Am I in danger, Doctor?’ I asked.
‘Call me Sarah, please. And no, not if you behave yourself and do everything I tell you.’ She approached the bed and leaned over me. ‘Can you tilt your head back for me, Mrs Chancellor?’
‘Clayton. Ms Clayton. Or actually, just Kitty would be nice.’
I did as she asked, and she shone a little light in both my eyes to check how my pupils responded.
‘All looking good,’ she said at last. ‘Or as good as I’d expect after the knock you took. You had us worried when the ambulance first brought you.’
‘So I’ll be okay?’
‘You’re not about to drop dead, if that’s what you mean,’ she said, smiling. ‘But you’re going to have a bugger of a headache for a while, I’m afraid. Now, how do we feel about another visitor? There’s someone in the waiting room desperate to see you.’
I brightened. ‘A man? Irish?’
‘No, it’s your mum. She’s very worried about you. Shall I show her in?’
My brow gathered. ‘Oh. No. I don’t want to see her.’ I nodded to Ethan. ‘And if you could kick him out, I’d appreciate it.’
Sarah looked confused. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not sure I quite understand all this.’
‘I don’t want him here. I want you to make him go away. Please.’
‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying, Doctor,’ Ethan said in a low voice. ‘She’s been struggling with her mental health lately, and she thinks… there’s been some bizarre delusions. There is some history of it, you can see from her medical records.’
‘Don’t listen to him!’ I said, my tone urgent. ‘My mental health’s fine, honestly. I’m not delusional. I just don’t want him near me.’
‘Kitty, darling, you just jumped out of a window,’ Ethan said in his most patronising voice. ‘I’m sorry, but you need help.’
‘I know what I need. I need you to get out,’ I snapped. ‘Sarah, you’re my doctor. Please, just make him leave. Ow! Fuck me, that hurts.’ My head felt like an elephant was stamping on it.
‘Perhaps you’d better go,’ Sarah said quietly to Ethan.
‘But she—’
‘Please, Mr Chancellor. It’s getting her agitated and that’s not good for her recovery. She needs complete rest.’
He hesitated. ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘If it’s making her worse.’ He squeezed my hand as he went by, but I jerked it away. ‘Get better for me, baby. I’ll be right in the waiting room.’
‘Your husband seems worried about you,’ Sarah said when he’d gone.
‘Yeah. It’s upsetting when your favourite toy gets broken.’
‘Your admission papers say you were injured falling out of a window.’
‘I wasn’t falling out, I was climbing out.’ I laughed woozily. ‘They just don’t make drainpipes the way they used to.’
She shot me a searching look. ‘Anything you’d like to share with me about your home life?’
‘Is that something you have to ask me or something you want to?’
‘In this case, both.’
I hesitated. ‘No,’ I said at last. ‘No. There’s nothing I want to share right now.’
‘Well, I’m right here if you change your mind,’ she said gently. ‘Here. Take these.’ She counted out a couple of capsules from a little box and put them down on the table, next to my glass of water. ‘They’ll help you sleep. That’s the best thing right now if we want to get this poor head all healed.’
‘Okay.’ I swallowed them down. ‘And if a man called Jack Duffy comes, can you let him in? Nobody else. Just Jack.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He’s… someone I know. Just someone I know.’