Chapter 11: With a Little Help From My Friends

Henry woke briefly when they lifted him into the chopper. He noted that Jane Manning held a bag with a clear liquid above him. Then darkness, until he woke up in the army surgical hospital.

Two doctors were arguing over his leg. One was obviously in favour of amputation and the other against it. Henry tried to make his opinion known, but he could not move his tongue, and his arms felt like lead. Then a third doctor came in. To Henry's relief, he heard that he was to be flown home immediately.

A nurse came and gave him another shot. He was out of it until he woke up in a hospital bed in what appeared to be a British hospital. He was terribly thirsty and his throat was parched. Some monitor or another started to beep and a nurse came running. He wanted to point at his mouth, but his arms were tied down by tubes and sensor cables. The nurse seemed to guess what bothered him. She gave him small bits of ice, which cooled his mouth and soothed his throat a little.

"Drink!" he croaked.

He made a face at the camomile tea, but at least it was sweet and cold. Next, a doctor made his appearance.

"Major Ruiz? I'm Dr. Johnson. You are at Ravenscourt Park Hospital. You were received two gunshot wounds, Major. Can you remember?"

Henry nodded. 'Firouze! She shot me, and I killed her. What a waste!' he thought.

"Major, your knee was badly injured and you will need surgery. Is there any next of kin we can notify? There is a Lord Lambert outside and a Mrs. Winthorp who claim to be your cousins. Is that correct?"

Henry nodded.

"Is it all right for them to see you, Major?"

Henry nodded again.

A minute later, a worried Andrew and a teary-eyed Ellen were shown in.

"Harry, old boy! How are you?" Andrew asked with a catch in his voice.

"I've seen better days, to be sure," Henry croaked with an effort.

There was Ellen. "Harry, we got you the best surgeon in the whole UK. Doctor Simmons will try to rescue your leg."

The meaning of her words was like a blow. "My leg? Why save my leg?"

"Henry, your knee was shattered. They wanted to amputate right away, but I pulled strings and they shipped you here. Ellen and Josie dug up this Dr. Simmons. She will be here in another hour to take over. You'll be in good hands, my man."

"Josie?"

"I called her when I heard from the regiment," Ellen said calmly. "She found out about Dr. Simmons. Harry, you need all your friends now."

He snorted and winced with the pain it caused.

"Yes, she cares for you. You may not understand it, but she does. Is there anything you need, anything that we can do for you?"

Henry shook his head. "Settled my affairs. Drew is executor. It's simple. Nothing I need. Jus' a good sawbones. How's your mum?"

"Wrought up, of course," Andrew answered in Ellen's stead. "You know how much she likes you. She's worried sick and angry at you at the same time."

Henry sighed and said, "Stupid to go to Iraq. Woman who shot me, I understand her; sympathy. Had to shoot her, damn it!"

"A woman?" Ellen asked, disturbed.

Henry nodded silently whilst tears welled up in his eyes. For the first time in his life, he shed tears over someone he had killed. He knew in this moment that he would never touch a gun again if he could help it. He felt Ellen press his hand comfortingly while Andrew cleared his throat, shaken at seeing his friend cry over a dead enemy.

"We need to get you retired, Harry," he said hoarsely. "This is something you should no longer do."

That was only right Henry thought and he nodded.

An hour later, Dr. Eileen Simmons entered the room together with a senior surgical assistant. She was already armed with X-rays and charts. She explained her plans for the reconstruction of his knee.

Nobody would give her a beauty award, but she was caring and efficient, and she tried to encourage Henry without making false promises.

"I can't give you any hope of returning to your profession," she said at one point and for once, Henry had to smile.

"My luck's improving every minute," he smiled, his voice stronger now. "I don't fancy the word 'disabled', but if it means I can stay at home, it sounds sweet."

The afternoon was filled with more X-rays, tomography and blood sampling. Around seven in the evening, a heavy dose of Valium sent him into a dazed stupor. He did not even wake up on the next morning before they drugged him again.

His memory of the operating theatre was dim. Somebody wanted him to count backwards from one hundred – a stupid idea, really.

He also had the strangest dreams. Somehow, a very persistent Josie Maxwell found her way into them, in spite of his efforts to shut her out. Ellen appeared too, a soothing presence, but there was also the frightening presence of Firouze Azad.

At least in his dream, they talked. In his dream, they reached a solution. He would stay out of Iraq if she left his dream. It seemed like a sensible compromise to him.

Waking up was painful. His senses picked up the dulled pain from his leg, in spite of the painkillers under which he was. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his ureter and his throat was parched again. Everthing hurt even more than before.

At least the lights were dimmed he thought when he opened his eyes.

The first person he saw was Ellen. She sat in a chair, reading in a book. He watched her silently whilst trying to clear his head. For a long time, he had not really seen her, had refused to acknowledge her quiet beauty. Yet, as she sat there, with her slender neck bent slightly and her blue eyes focused on the book before her, he saw her again as he had seen her as a boy. The memory made him uneasy. He moved, causing her to look up.

"You're awake!" she smiled.

Her easy smile comforted him. He knew at once that the operation had gone right.

"Dr. Simmons said the surgery went well. Harry, you spent over six hours in the operating theatre, but Dr. Simmons was able to patch up your knee. You'll be okay!"

He smiled gratefully in response. The meaning of her words slowly sank in. He wouldn't be a one-legged cripple. He would be able to walk again. He could deal with pain, but to lose a limb would have been a different matter. He breathed in relief and looked down. His leg was suspended in a cast that still felt cool and wet.

"Andrew will come in later. He already called. He says he has good news."

"Is there a special sale on peg legs?" he asked in an attempt at humour.

"Don't even say that!" Ellen gasped. "Harry, you're going to be all right. We'll accept nothing less, d'ye hear that!"

"Sorry, bad joke."

"Not funny! You're going to stay in that cast for at least four weeks. Then you'll go into physical therapy. You'll have to work hard to get better."

Henry thought about that for a few moments.

"How come you were hurt anyway?" Ellen asked.

"Stupid Foreign Office bloke bragged about our team," Henry said with gritted teeth. "The imbecile blabbed in front of a room full of Iraqis. It was really easy for the bad guys to set up that trap.

"The woman who organised the attack ... I had met her at a party four weeks earlier. The funny thing is, I really liked her. Damn it to hell! I had to kill her because some cocksucker had to run his mouth on us!"

Ellen sensed his anger and his feeling of loss over the woman.

"How well did you know her?" she asked tentatively.

"Not well enough. Do you know the feeling when you meet a person and you like them instantly? I liked her and I thought she liked me too. To think that this passionate woman is dead makes me so mad! I couldn't do a thing about it. She would have killed me, sure as hell."

There was even admiration in his voice Ellen noticed with surprise. With some skill, Ellen steered the conversation away from dead women and blabbing diplomats, and towards her plans for Woodbridge. She had some ideas for improving her stables and wanted his opinions.

Henry took the bait in good humour. They knew each other too well to be fooled. They maintained the superficial conversation until Dr. Simmons showed up.

She looked tired but satisfied. She explained to Henry what she had done, what metal parts had been implanted and which of them would have to be removed at a later date. All in all, Henry got the impression that he would keep his leg and that counted more for him than understanding the medical gibberish.

Once Dr. Simmons had finished, he asked her if she would visit him again the next day. She was reluctant because she wanted to visit colleagues in London, but at his insistence she relented.

After she left, Henry explained to Ellen what he planned and she looked at him in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely. Andrew can get it for me, can't he? He has power of attorney for my bank vault."

Andrew dropped by an hour later, full of news.

"I talked to Edward Silers-Spence this morning. He's my MOD contact. They will expedite your medical retirement. Oh, and your brigadier has nominated you for the Military Cross. You're a bloody hero, fighting off hundreds of insurgents single-handedly," Andrew couldn't help but grin.

"Fuck you, Drew! Will they give me a pension?"

"That's the best of all. They'll advance you to Lieutenant Colonel before they'll retire you. How does that sound? 'Colonel Ruiz-Costa, Royal Marines, retired'. You'll make one hell of a landed gentleman."

"What's the beef behind that?" Henry asked suspiciously.

"There is a certain young embassy secretary who talked too much and his father is rather high up in the ministry. If you agree to keep your mouth shut about young Bellows-Smith, they'll give you the golden handshake. You'll get the medal anyway, but the promotion is condition on keeping mum."

"I thought you were a banker, not a fucking politician?"

"They listen to me," Andrew said modestly. "Silers-Spence is your typical don't-rock-the-boat career official. He'd rather make you brigadier than risk a public scandal."

"Come to think of it, Brigadier-General has such a nice ring to it," Henry smiled.

"It was just a figure of speech. By the way, the promotion only comes as a package with retirement."

"That's quite all right, Drew. I'll keep my mouth shut about young Bellows-Smith, but they have to transfer him to a place where he can't do any damage. Send him to a friendly country. Liechtenstein or Luxembourg preferably. Or Andorra. If he remains in a position where his stupidity can hurt people, the deal is off. I may be corrupt, but I'm not that corrupt."

"Don't worry. They transferred him to the Reykjavík consulate on Iceland. But enough of that idiot. Ellen told me the surgery went well?"

"That's what Dr. Simmons claims. That reminds me, Drew – could you make a run to your cosy bank house and retrieve an item from my lock box?"

Henry briefly explained his wish and Andrew whistled softly.

"If you are not her favourite patient already, you'll be close to the top tomorrow!"

Henry spent the night sleeping helped by a substantial dose of painkillers.

Andrew kept his word and came by on the next morning, handing a small parcel to Henry.

It was ten o'clock when Dr. Simmons checked on Henry.

"How is my brave soldier?" she asked, obviously in a good mood.

"I'm okay, Doctor, thanks to you."

"Keep that in mind for when you'll get my bill," she laughed.

He liked her, had liked her from the start. She was smart, she had self-confidence and she had a sense of humour. She was no stunner but she had the attractiveness of a self-assured person.

When she was finished with the exam, she looked at him.

"Major, I did my part. The rest will depend on you. I don't have to tell you that you have to be religious about the physical exercises that will come, do I?"

"No, Doc. I know."

"Good. I would like to examine you again in a few weeks. Can you come to Glasgow for that?"

He nodded. "Sure, I understand you can't do house calls all the time. Doctor, before you leave, I'd like to thank you. You dropped everything to rush down here and take care of me. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude."

He pressed the small case into her hands. Eileen Simmons raised her eyebrows when she opened the case and saw the earrings. Then she took a deep breath.

"I hope this is not part of a marriage proposal," she smiled. "Because, in that case, I would have to decline them."

He liked her even more.

"Don't worry, you can take them. They're old, but they have no sentimental value for me. They came to a female ancestor from an unlucky suitor, so if anything, they were an embarrassment. I thought they would look lovely on you."

The heavy earrings were made of gold with small rubies, and they would match Dr. Simmons's stylish short hair.

"Are you quite serious?" she asked again and Henry nodded.

"If you ever find yourself in a predicament and need help in any form, think of me. I shall be happy to be of service."

Eileen Simmons blushed prettily.

"You are a cavalier, Major. When you'll visit Glasgow, I'll show you how a Scotswoman treats guests."

"You wouldn'æ have a wee dram of the Glenmorangie with ye?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed brightly. "Would that I had, Major. Is that your favourite?"

"I'm not fully decided. I'm also partial to old Hennessey."

"When you'll visit for the check-up, we'll have some drinks together."

"I'm game! Thanks again, Doc."

After she left, Henry had some time to himself. He had asked for paper and a fountain pen and he set to the task of writing a letter to the Taraqi family. It was tough work for him. He did not want to sound apologetic for defending his own life, but he wanted them to know that he understood Firouze and her motives, and respected her.

He was just finished with the final version of the letter when lunch was wheeled in. It was his first solid food in four days, and he had been looking forward to it. That was before the lid was lifted. He raised a brow at the nurse helper.

"Where do you get this stuff? Rejects from the animal shelters?" he asked.

The helper, a young Pakistani man, laughed.

"Better get used to it."

"Actually, no, I won't. I haven't dodged bullets and bombs only to die of food poisoning. Is there a way to get food from the outside? A pizza delivery or a Chinese take-away?"

"You can to sign up for it. Lotsa people order outside food."

"When do you go off work?"

"Right after lunch time."

"Would a tenner convince you to get me a nice, hot, steaming Lasagna?"

The young man grinned. "Sure thing, Major! I have time in between serving and collecting the trays. You want I go?"

"Please do. Here's two tenners. Keep the bloody change, but get me something fit to eat!"

The Lasagna tasted heavenly to a man who had been living on Army food for half a year. It was heavy on garlic and peppers and he used the small piece of bread that had come with his hospital food to wipe the plate completely clean. He leaned back then, sated and content.

His day of luxuries was not over yet. Ellen came by at coffee time with two large lattes and fudge brownies. They had been his favourite as a boy.

"You remembered! Ellen, you're a saviour. These people here mean well, but the food! Can you arrange for a regular food service from a decent restaurant? That would be my fondest wish."

Ellen grinned. "I'll see to it. What do you like?"

"Italian for lunch, that's for sure. And for dinner, wait, how about some Indian or Chinese food?"

"Okay. You want to start with dinner tonight?"

"By all means, yes. I shudder to think what they will bring me for supper."

"You're a snob, Harry."

"I'm not. I've been eating Army rations for months without complaining, but I'm in bloody London now! I happen to think that I'm entitled to something better than steamed lawn clippings."

They enjoyed their coffee and brownies maintaining an easy banter. Something had changed between them Henry realised. Ellen was relaxed around him. She was relaxed, period. She had a healthy complexion too and her hair had grown to shoulder length, curling slightly at the ends. Henry could remember her hair when they had been teenagers. It had been a blond cascade then and he remembered how he had loved to run his hands through the heavy tresses.

"You're letting your hair grow again?"

Ellen nodded. "I'm healing. Cutting my hair short was a symptom of my self-hate, or so my therapist thinks. I don't really know."

"It looks good on you."

"Thanks." She looked at him then with imploring eyes. "Harry, do you think we can be friends again?"

He took her hand and looked into her pleading eyes.

"I think we are friends. I could never hate you, let alone forget you. You have come a long way. Let's start fresh and forget the old stories."

"That was a very nice thing to say. You really have a heart of gold, Harry." She paused. "I'd really like to kiss you. May I?"

There was the ghost of a smile on his face as he nodded.

Ellen had ordered a fillet Chateaubriand from Andrew's club for dinner. It was certainly worth the effort Ellen thought. They sat in Henry's room whilst a waiter from the club served them. The food was magnificent. With the approval from the surgical resident they had a bottle of Roussillon wine together. They closed the evening over a plate of cheese and toasted their rebuilt friendship.

Once they finished, Henry was pretty much out like a light. Ellen stayed in the room until midnight watching him as he snored peacefully. The man she had hurt and whose hurt had haunted her for over a decade, had finally absolved her of her guilt. She felt relief and happiness, but also the stirring of other feelings. When she finally decided to leave, she bent over the sleeping Henry and kissed his forehead.