‘This husband of yours definitely wants to waken up, Dr Grace. It's a bit ahead of my schedule, but if you agree, then I think I'm going to let him.
From her seat by the right-hand side of Bob's bed, Sarah looked up at Mr Braeburn. 'As far as I can see, he'd be less stressed off sedation. So yes, I agree. Take him off the drip.'
The tall, lugubrious consultant, dressed on this occasion in a white coat, beckoned to a waiting nurse. 'Disconnect Mr Skinner's IV sedative, please. Continue with the nutrients, but take him off the grog.'
The young woman did as she had been instructed, disconnecting the tube through which the drug had been flowing into Bob's arm.
`Given the dose he was on, I'd expect it to be about three hours before he's ready to come round, but with this fellow, God alone knows. Normally I'd take him off the ventilator in about an hour, but if we're both satisfied that he's ready to breathe on his own, I'll take the tube out now.'
Sarah almost blurted out her, 'Yes,' but stopped, forcing herself to think like a doctor, rather than a distraught, exhausted wife desperate to hear her husband speak. She thought back to his reactions over the last few hours, and looked at the steady, positive signs showing on the monitors. She glanced across at Alex, who sat on the other side of the bed, holding her father's left hand tight and watching her anxiously.
‘I’m happy with that. Let's take the tube out before he wakens and chokes on the bloody thing.'
`Right,' said Braeburn. 'Would you like to assist me?' She nodded and moved round behind him. Gently, she raised Bob's shoulders slightly and tilted his head back, allowing the surgeon to ease the wet, mucus-strung ventilator tube from his throat. In spite of herself, she glanced at the monitor again, and saw happily that his breathing was continuing at the same steady pace. She held him up as the nurse, from the other side of the bed, pushed pillows under him to support his weight in a more normal position.
Alex's eyes glistened as she watched the beginning of her father's return to life.
`You stay with him,' Sarah said, 'and I'll get us some coffee. We could still have a wait until he's back with us.'
They finished two coffees as they sat by the bedside, watching and waiting. Alex continued to hold his hand as if both of their lives depended upon it. Occasionally, Sarah would stroke his forehead, to confirm that his body temperature was coming back to normal.
Gradually, as they studied him for signs of wakefulness, Skinner seemed to become less inert. Once or twice, his legs moved slightly beneath the cover, and his toes flicked and twitched.
`You want to shake him, don't you,' said Alex, 'to waken him.'
`That's the one thing we mustn't do,' said Sarah. 'He has to recover consciousness gradually.'
`Not that it was ever easy to shake Pops awake. I remember when I was a wee girl, I always wanted to go to the beach on Sunday morning, sun, rain, hail or snow — but that was the one day when he used to sleep late if he had a chance.
I was always up and about early, waiting for him to surface, If he was taking too long I'd go into his room to waken him up. I used to shake him as hard as a seven-year-old could, but I couldn't budge him. He just lay there like a log. I knew he was pretending, but he could always wait me out.' She grinned. Eventually, though, I found the answer.'
`What was that?'
I used to tickle the soles of his feet.' She reached down towards the foot of the bed, and slipped her free hand under the cover.
`Don't you bloody dare!'
It was a fuzzy, indistinct mumble, but it was intelligible. Alex and Sarah gasped in unison, rising to their feet. Bob's eyelashes flickered, ten, perhaps fifteen times, but at last his eyes opened. The women gazed down at him, struck dumb by their relief, until at last, Sarah leaned over him and kissed his forehead.
`Welcome back, my darling,' she whispered, her eyes swimming.
Alex sat back in her chair, hard, held his hand to her face and cried big, salt tears of relief.
`What happened?' Bob croaked. 'Heart attack?'
Sarah looked down at him in surprise. 'Heart attack? You? No way.'
Wh' was it then? Don' remember.'
`You were jogging, darling, and you were attacked. You were stabbed. We've been worried about you for a while, but you're going to be all right.'
He smiled up at her and shook his head, weakly. 'Not jogging. Never jog. Running.'
She laughed. 'I stand corrected.'
He tried to speak again, but coughed, wincing in sudden pain.
‘Easy, easy,’ Sarah.
‘throats sore’
`That's because you've had a tube down it for a day and a half. It'll ease. Want to try a sip of water?'
He nodded. She filled a glass from the jug at the bedside and held it to his mouth. He drank greedily, flicking his tongue over his lips to moisten them.
'A day and a half,' he whispered. 'That's how long I've been out of it?'
Sarah nodded. 'You've been under sedation since your operation. Standard recovery procedure.'
`What was the damage?'
'A pierced lung and a nicked artery. Other than that you're fine’
He laughed faintly. 'Aye, I feel just great. Stabbed, eh. Of the two, I think I prefer being shot.'
Alex looked up at Sarah in astonishment. Like her father's colleagues, she had been told the alternative version of that chapter from his past. 'Let's hope you never have to make the comparison for real,' said his wife, trying to cover his gaffe.
Bob squeezed his daughter's hand. 'Hi, Babe. How're you doing?'
She smiled at him, her face still streaked with tears. 'Fine, now,' she said. 'Oh God, we were so worried about you.' She lifted his hand off the bed and pressed it to her moist cheek. As she did so, the diamonds on her finger sparkled with reflected light.
`Hey,' said Bob. 'What's this?'
She stared at him, startled. 'My engagement ring. Remember, we unveiled it on Saturday night.'
A shadow of confusion crossed his face. 'No,' he said, in the faintest of whispers. 'I don't remember.' He stared up at Sarah, frowning. ‘What bloody day is this?'
She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'It's Tuesday. You were attacked early on Monday morning. But don't worry, honey. Traumatic amnesia is quite common. What's the last thing you can recall?'
He shook his head, frustrated.
Okay then, tell me about the last meal you ate.'
He knitted his brow. 'Fresh pasta with a bacon, mushroom and tomato sauce,' he whispered. 'Chocolate mousse to follow. A bottle of Tyrell's Long Flat Red between us.'
`That was on Thursday,' Sarah said. 'A long time back, but don't let it worry you. You did have a pretty severe trauma. The memory gaps will fill up before too long.'
The corner of his mouth twisted. 'I don't know if I want them to. Here, did they get the bastards that knifed me?'
‘Yup. Charged with attempted murder.'
`Pity. That means I won't get my hands on them.'
She laughed. 'You did already! But don't let's talk about that. Not yet anyway. You just relax and concentrate on getting better. You're still a sick puppy, you know.'
`Yes, Doc. Very good, Doc.' He tried to shift his position, and a spasm of pain crossed his face. 'Christ, I believe you.'
She reached out and touched his face. 'Easy now. They gave you quite a mauling in surgery. We'll get you some painkillers now you're awake.'
I'm not going to burst open again, am I?'
`No, not now. There's been no sign of any more bleeding, so I reckon the arterial repair will be secure already. But you'll be in here for a while yet. Your body has to have time, and rest, to recover.'
He looked at her mournfully. 'If you say so.' Suddenly his face lit up. 'Hey, how's James Andrew Skinner?'
`Jazz is fine. I'll bring him to see you in a couple of days, when we've got you sitting up.'
`That's good. I miss the wee chap'
And he misses you, I think,' said Alex. 'Andy picked him up this morning, and his face lit up. But then he saw it wasn't you and he started to cry.'
Bob grinned at the thought, then gasped as another image of a baby flashed for an instant, unbidden, across his mind. 'What is it?' said Alex anxiously.
`Nothing,' he murmured. 'Just a memory flash' Laboriously he reached up and tapped his head. 'All sorts of stuff going on in there, you know.'
`Yeah,' said Sarah. 'What was going through your mind when you were unconscious? In theory there shouldn't have been anything.'
`Can't remember that either.'
`Nothing at all?'
He paused, staring up at the ceiling. 'Yes. I remember someone holding my hand. And perfume. Are either of you wearing perfume?'
I am,' said Alex.
`Then I remember that. Back in there…' he tapped his head once more.. I remember the smell of your perfume. Chanel No. 5 — I'd know it anywhere'
Alex looked at him, puzzled. 'Your nose must be affected aswell, in that case. You might know Chanel anywhere, but like always, I'm wearing Rive Gauche!'