Dreaming

But then time had become a labyrinth through which he endlessly searched for a way out. He didn’t know how long he had been like this; he only knew that he kept waking up and going back to sleep and the moments in between were brief and painful, almost surreal. Each time he couldn’t think where he was or what had happened to him, and each time the pain was lurking to spring out at him. He always escaped from consciousness with a sense of relief because when he was awake everything hurt, although he couldn’t quite recall why. All he knew was that his life had simply stopped suddenly one day when he was driving along a road, and ever since he had been in pain.

‘I’m Sister Gilbey,’ the woman said. ‘I’m looking after you, Mr West. How do you feel?’

She had a soft, low voice that should have soothed. Instead, he was irritated by it. Did she think he was a child?

Zachary swallowed and became aware of a raging thirst. ‘Drink...’ he tried to say through his dry lips, and she must have understood because she gently inserted a straw between his teeth. He sucked weakly, and cool water came into his mouth. He stopped sucking when he had quenched his thirst, and his eyes closed in weariness.

‘Are you in much pain?’ the woman asked stupidly.

Zachary opened his eyes to look at her with contempt. What did she think? his gaze asked her.

He closed his eyes again and very soon he was slipping back into his dream. The girl was waiting with her windblown black hair and glimmering oval face, the smile that made his blood sing. Zachary floated towards her, smiling, his heart beating faster.

When his surgeon saw him again the following day Zachary was awake for the first time and David Hallows was able to talk to him.

‘Your agent, Mr Curtney, wants you to be moved up to London to another hospital which specialises in skin conditions, but I’m afraid...although you are already much improved and I have every faith that you will go on improving very fast...for the moment I’m afraid I cannot really permit you to make such a long journey.’

Zachary West gazed incuriously at him, his body slack. ‘I see.’

He did not seem too disturbed by the news and David Hallows gave him a friendly, encouraging smile.

‘We’ll take the best possible care of you, Mr West. We’re trying to make you comfortable.’

‘I’ve been too drugged to notice,’ Zachary said suddenly, his voice clearer than it had been since his accident.

David Hallows laughed. ‘Well, yes, that was necessary for the first few days, to protect you against too much movement, and to counter the effects of shock. From now on we will be cutting back on the dosage; we don’t want you getting hooked, do we?’

He laughed again. Zachary didn’t. Bleakly he said, ‘There’s no chance of that. I hate being out of my mind.’

‘Quite,’ David Hallows said. ‘Well, I’m happy to see you recovering so rapidly. I’ll be in to see you again tomorrow, a little earlier as it’s Saturday. Keep your fingers crossed that I get a quiet weekend for once!’

Again he laughed, and this time Zachary showed a spark of amusement in his grey eyes.

‘That might be a little difficult for me at present.’

David did a double take, then grinned in some surprise. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you’re right.’ Zachary’s hands had been very badly burned and must be intensely painful.

Talking to Luisa that evening, David said, ‘I have a lot of respect for the man; he’s got guts. I’ve known men with burns that weren’t half as bad as his who made ten times the fuss. To be making jokes this early shows a very strong character. I don’t think I’d be that brave if I were in his place.’ He grimaced. ‘In fact, I know I wouldn’t be! I’m petrified of having his sort of injuries. That’s probably why I specialised in skin surgery. My father was badly burnt in an explosion in a chemical works when I was ten, and I’ve never forgotten seeing him a week or so later. I had nightmares for years afterwards, kept dreaming it was me under the bandages.’

Luisa looked fixedly at him, her blue eyes as dark as gentians in the shadowy light of her office. ‘Poor David, how frightening it must have been for you at such an early age.’ He had never told her this story before and it revealed a lot about him that she had never suspected.

A little flushed, he laughed and got up, shrugging. ‘Yes...well...I must go. I’m going home now. I’ve run out of bodies in the theatre so I might as well get some sleep. See you tomorrow. Looking forward to it?’

Luisa lit up, smiling. ‘Oh, yes. I haven’t been to a dance for ages and I love dancing. I’m going to buy a new dress tomorrow, too!’

‘To go out with me? I’m flattered!’ He grinned down at her, a head taller than her, his attractive face warm, yet still set in lines of exhaustion and weariness.

Luisa didn’t manage to get out to do her shopping until quite late on Saturday afternoon, but there was only one good dress shop in Whinbury so she would not need much time in which to make her choice. She was lucky: there was a ravishing dark blue silk dress with a low-cut bodice and a stand-up ruff of lace at the back. The dress was long-skirted with a trio of rustling pale pink lace petticoats under it, and a pale pink silk rose pinned to the waist. Luisa loved the feel of the frou-frou of petticoats around her legs as she walked.

‘It has a sort of Victorian look, doesn’t it?’ said the girl who sold it to her. ‘Your hairstyle goes with it. Very classy, that chignon. Of course some of them wore ringlets in Victorian days, too, but I think that was the young girls, not ladies of your age.’

Luisa laughed without amusement. The girl was probably not even twenty; no doubt to her Luisa’s twenty-seven years did seem pretty ancient, but it left Luisa feeling as if she had suddenly aged without noticing it. Twenty-seven wasn’t that old! Why shouldn’t she wear her hair in ringlets if she liked? Victorian, indeed!

When she got home she had a bath, washed her hair, and spent some time curling it into Victorian-style ringlets with some electric hair tongs she had once been given, but rarely used.

Once she was dressed for the dance she stood in front of her mirror, biting her lip. The new style certainly made her look different! In fact, it changed her whole appearance. She went pink. What on earth had she done to herself? She felt ridiculous and would have tried to restore her hair to normal if David hadn’t arrived while she was still trying to make up her mind what to do.

He did a double take, staring. ‘Luisa? Good heavens! I hardly recognised you. Your hair...’

Luisa groaned. ‘It looks awful, doesn’t it? I don’t know what on earth made me do it! But—’

‘I love it!’

She blinked uncertainly. ‘You do?’

‘It’s perfect with that dress.’ He held out his well-shaped hand, his brown eyes warm. ‘And that is a very sexy dress, let me say!’

She laughed, but went pink, and David smiled down at her, holding her slender fingers lightly. ‘The blush is sexy, too.’

‘Don’t you make fun of me, David Hallows!’ she protested, even more flushed.

‘I’m not, I mean it. When you go pink like that you look very female. I suppose it makes me feel you need protecting...’

‘In this day and age?’ she asked incredulously.

He grimaced. ‘Oh, I know it’s an out of date attitude—opening doors for a woman, standing up when she comes into a room...OK, it’s laughed at these days. But I’m an old-fashioned guy. I like the difference between a man and a woman and I don’t see why I should apologise for that.’

‘Neither do I,’ she said, smiling at him because they had worked together long enough for her to know that he was no put-down artist. He didn’t treat women as dolls—far from it. He’d always treated her with respect and grave equality.

He smiled back. ‘That’s what first attracted me to you,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘Your femininity.’

Luisa stared in surprise. He had never told her that before. She had often wondered how he had managed to reach the age of thirty-five without marrying because he was attractive and popular with the other nurses. He had had other girlfriends, but the relationships had all fizzled out in the end. Maybe the long hours he had to work, the intense concentration of the job, always came between him and anyone he dated?

He usually looked relaxed and casual, even in his ward-walking suits, because he was not the authoritarian type of surgeon of an earlier generation. David was too laid-back for that; his warm smile and easy-going manner made him the most liked of all the doctors. But tonight he, too, looked different: very distinguished in his evening suit. The black jacket and trousers made him look very slim; the white shirt and immaculate black tie gave him a touch of glamour he did not normally have.

His mouth curled in amusement. ‘Are you looking me over, Luisa? Or have I put you off by admitting I like feminine girls?’

She laughed, shaking her head.

He tightened his grip on her hand and drew her closer, bending his head. Luisa instinctively lifted her face to meet his kiss, but, even as their lips met, behind them in her flat the telephone rang and they froze, looked at each other, grimacing.

‘Don’t answer it!’ David said, and she laughed.

‘You know I must! It may be my father.’

David groaned. ‘Famous last words!’

It wasn’t her father; it was the hospital. She sighed and turned, holding out the phone to David. ‘Sorry,’ she said as he reluctantly took it.