FB - England, London - Lewisham Hospital (May 2004)

[Hollywood Heidi]

Lewisham Hospital

Located in London, England and taking place in May 2004.

[Kristi Lynne]

Gwen was walking with Nick down the hospital hallway when she stopped short, frozen with fear. “Are they here?”

“What?”

“Just lean around the corner and tell me if you see my parents.”

He rolled his eyes. “My God, you need a better therapist,” he muttered, but did as he was told. “Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Havers are in the house.”

“How do they look?”

“Bored and aristocratic. Same as usual.”

“Nick!”

“Alright, alright. They look worried. Same as you. You sure you want to do this solo? ‘Cause I’m here for back-up if you need me.”

She inhaled, summoning strength. “No, no. I’ll be fine. Go be with your wife and son,” she said, smiling up at her redheaded friend, now all married and settled—so surprisingly grown-up. “He’s a really cute kid, Nick.”

“Yeah, he takes after his mother,” he nodded. “Listen, these are excellent doctors here. They’ll take good care of Julian.”

“I know, I know.”

“Take care, G,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “And don’t leave the country without buying me a drink.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now go and face the firing squad,” he advised, turning her around by the shoulders and pushing her toward the waiting room.

“Bye!” she called over her shoulder.

“Vaya con Dios!” he called back.

She breathed in deeply and proceeded forward. “Hi, Mum. Dad,” she greeted.

Her father threw his arms around her in a tight embrace. “Sweetie, I’m so glad you’re here,” he beamed. “When did you get in? How was the flight? Where are you staying?”

“The prodigal daughter returns,” her mother said icily from her chair.

Gwen cut a glance at her mother and turned her attention back to her father. “I got in yesterday, the flight was fine, and I’m staying with Liz and Di,” she replied, trying to cover all his questions. “Has there been any word from the doctors yet?”

“We’re still in the dark,” Edward answered with a weary shrug.

“This place is full of incompetents. He would have been better off at Charing Cross,” Carolyn declared.

“This was the closest place they could transport him for care after the accident,” Edward patiently explained.

“What accident?” Gwen asked. “Tell me what happened.”

Her father pondered before attempting to relay the information they had so far. “Apparently a car pulled out in front of him. He went over the handlebars, hit the ground pretty hard. Thankfully he was wearing his helmet, so they’re not too worried about brain damage. But…there are a lot of bone fractures. He was unconscious when they brought him in and losing blood fast—“

“Well, if he needs a transfusion, we’re the same blood type,” Gwen said quickly.

“And I’m sure the doctors are aware of that. Right now, they’re performing surgery to deal with the collapsed lung and the femur fracture. Once he’s stabilized, they’ll let us see him.” He placed his hands reassuringly on Gwen’s shoulders. “We just have to wait and think positive, okay?”

Gwen swallowed hard, attempting to quell her anxiety, and nodded up at him.

“The roads were slick from the rain. He should have known better than to be riding that thing in this weather,” Carolyn muttered.

“Where’s Helena?” Gwen asked.

“She was at a conference up in Edinburgh,” Edward replied. “She’s catching the train down as soon as she can.”

“Well, what about Sharon? Has anyone called her?”

“Honestly, we hadn’t had time to think about it.”

“It’s pointless, anyway. They’ll only allow immediate family in after the surgery,” Carolyn said.

“She’s his girlfriend, Mum. I think she should know.”

“We’ll get in touch with her when we know something, okay?” Edward suggested calmly.

“Were you planning to drop by the house?” Carolyn continued, addressing Gwen coldly. “Grace us with your presence? Or were you too busy sharing dinners and laughs with your friends in the city?”

“Carolyn, don’t start--” Edward sighed.

“I’m just curious as to whether it takes a life-threatening accident to prompt my own daughter to make time for me…”

“Mum!” Gwen snapped.

“Perhaps I’ll go and smash the Jaguar into a utility pole. Maybe then I can get an audience with Her Majesty—“

“Carrie!” Edward admonished her in a loud whisper. “This is not the time.”

Gwen sighed resignedly. “I was having dinner with Nicholas and Francesca tonight, and then I was going to come and see you on Saturday,” she lied. “Right, Dad? I’m sure your assistant gave you the message.”

“Right, yes. She was coming on Saturday. I meant to tell you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re telling me now,” Carolyn chided with a roll of her eyes. “Like I can pull together a menu in two days.”

“Mum, I don’t need a sodding menu,” Gwen groaned, taking a seat beside her. “My brother…your son has been through a horrible ordeal. He’s still going through it. So can we just focus on that right now? Please?”

“Exactly,” Edward agreed. “Can we stop bothering this waiting room full of people who are equally concerned about their loved ones with our petty differences, and act like a normal family? Just for a few hours?”

“Fine by me,” Gwen said. “Mum?”

“Fine,” she said softly.

And then they sat in a strained silence, waiting.


*****************************************


As Gwen entered room 1642, she heard her brother before she saw him. The sustained beep of the heart monitor, the subdued wheeze of the respirator. She tried not to show her concern at seeing him covered in bandages and plaster and all manner of mysterious medical equipment.

His alert eyes managed to show some joy in seeing her, and she smiled back. “How do you feel?” she signed, walking up to stand beside the hospital bed.

His right arm, though bruised and battered, was still functional and he was writing on a notebook. “Like I’ve broken every bone in my body.”

“I think you did,” she replied. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”

“Is everyone here?” he wrote.

“Yes.”

“Anyone thrown a punch yet?”

She stifled a laugh. “No, we’re being civil,” she assured him. “We’re all worried about you.”

“Did anyone tell Salma Hayek?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Those sunflowers are from her,” she said, pointing to a nearby flower arrangement. “She’s very sad you won’t be in Cannes with her…”

“My brain is fuzzy. Can’t remember what happened,” he wrote.

“You hit a car, and then the ground. Very hard,” Gwen explained. “Lots of broken bones, scratches, blood loss. You were in surgery for a long time, and they’re still worried about a few things. But they’re optimistic.”

“I still look better than you,” he wrote.

She grinned at his statement. “Yes you do, you wanker.”

“Sorry to ruin your holiday,” he apologized. “Did you ever ask that pilot out?”

She shook her head, wondering why he would even think of such a thing at a time like this. “You didn’t ruin my holiday. And no, I didn’t,” she signed.

He wrote the word “coward” on the paper.

“I am not,” she protested. “The timing just isn’t right.”

He then underlined the word “coward” in response.

“Fine. The next time I see him, I’ll ask him. Promise. But right now, I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Your lung is okay, but they might need to do another surgery on your leg, and they’re worried about…complications.”

“What complications?”

“I don’t know. I think they have to say things like that. Just in case.”

“Just in case?” he wrote.

“Look, I’m not worried about it. You nearly died, but they brought you back. They’ve taken good care of you so far. Everything will be fine.”

“But just in case…I want you to read the Auden poem.”

She huffed and shook her head emphatically. “No. No, we’re not talking about funerals,” she insisted.

Again, he underlined “read the Auden poem.”

Deciding to humor him, she signed, “But that’s so derivative. No good ever came from a Hugh Grant film.”

“John Hannah did.”

“Okay, you have a point,” she relented.

“So you’ll do it?”

“I will,” she agreed. “But not anytime soon.” She pulled up a chair to sit by the bed and took his hand in hers. “Now hide me from Mum,” she wrote on his notebook with a smiley face, before turning it to a fresh page.