Chapter 32

When Ged at last awoke fully he had a vague recollection of things being done to him, and of light and dark, and of wondering where he was. He had no recollection of the attack on him.

Now he realised he was in hospital, his mouth was very dry, that he had a dreadful headache, that his hands were heavily bandaged, that there was a drip attached to the crook of his elbow and that he had an uncomfortable feeling in his penis. But he lay still and tried to remember what had happened to him.

He remembered the gig, he remembered leaving the club and walking down the street outside, and that was all. He looked around. He seemed to be in a room on his own. He idly thought that was odd, since hospitals normally housed patients in wards of about ten, if not more.

He became aware of feeling thirsty, and saw at his bedside a tumbler of water. He reached for it, and instantly realised that his right hand was in a cast and the left was heavily bandaged and strapped up so he would not be able to grasp it.

At that point the door opened and a pretty young nurse poked her head round it.

"Oh," she smiled broadly, "You've finally joined the living again!"

She strode over to the bed and performed the usual routine nurses did. Blood pressure, temperature, the drip. Then she removed the catheter: as yet he had not spoken but there was an urgent intake of breath at the discomfort.

"I'm thirsty and I don't seem to be able to hold a glass." he said.

"Soon solved," the bright young thing chirped. She picked up the plastic tumbler, attached a lid and a straw, and put it to his lips.

"There," she said.

Ged sucked up the water until the tumbler was empty, whereupon the girl filled it and repeated the exercise. He drank half of it and then felt better.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Headache, and my hands hurt," he replied, "and someone's been kicking me up the backside."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Was I hit by a car?" he asked, "I don't remember."

"They were saying you were attacked," she replied. "You're Ged Smith, the singer, aren't you?"

He nodded and regretted it instantly, wincing with the pain.

"I'll get you something for your headache after the doctor has seen you." she said, and left.

It was not long before the doctor arrived, another young pretty woman.

"'Morning, Mr Smith," she said with a smile, "Let me check you out. She looked at his eyes and shone a light into them, then scanned his chart. Finally she looked at his notes.

"What happened to me?" he asked her.

"From what I heard you were attacked by three men. They gave you a good kicking. Your hands were damaged in the attack and they kicked your genitals.

"You have bruising over your chest area, but no bones broken there. You've been head-butted, but no cranial damage, or brain damage. Your nose survived as well."

"My hands!" he said. "They're bandaged; are they ok?"

"Mr Watkinson operated on them last night, and he's very good. I'm afraid it's a matter of 'wait and see'. You're strapped up to prevent movement while the bones, tendons and nerves heal."

The doctor left after saying that Mr Watkinson might call in to check on Ged's progress. A nurse arrived.

"You've caused quite a stir. There's pressmen and even a TV crew asking about you. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you who we can admit. Those reporters have already been telling us they're personal friends of yours.

"I've already got Mrs Copthorne down and Vivienne Percival. I got the names of the rest of your music group as well. Anyone else?"

"Cassie?" Ged interjected.

"Cassie?"

"Cassie Copthorne."

"She's down on your records as your next of kin," the nurse replied. "Is there a problem?"

"My next of kin?" then Ged realised. "I put her down before I went on tour. We've split up since then, and I don't want her coming round here. I don't want her as next of kin either."

"You don't want her? She was here for hours last night, very worried. She gave permission for your operation."

"She's playing games. I don't want her anywhere near me. She's messed up my life enough."

"Well, if that's what you want. What about Mz Percival?"

"She's welcome, as are the rest of the group. Oh, perhaps Cheryl Foster and her husband Brian. And Gus Mettleson – he's my manager."

The nurse wrote the names down.

"If anyone else turns up, please ask me first," Ged was flustered, "and I need to piss."

"OK," she said and walked out of the room, returning with a bottle. She lifted the sheet off him and placed the bottle so his penis was inside the angled spout. She held it there while he urinated and then got a tissue and wiped him.

"I'll be back," she said, taking the bottle with her. She returned with some pain killers and another tumbler of water, which she duly administered.

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked. "I know it's mid afternoon, but breakfast?"

Ged did not feel hungry, but thought he ought to eat. He nodded.

An orderly arrived and fed him cereal and toast, and of course tea.

After she had gone, he had time to take stock of his position. Physically he seemed to have mobility, but his genitals hurt and felt swollen.

He looked at his hands. The right hand was completely plastered, and though he tried, he could not move any part of it beyond the wrist. The left was strapped up but the index finger beyond the first knuckle and the thumb were visible, and tentatively he moved them. There was immediate pain from the other fingers on that hand.

It was clear to him that he would need someone to help him with even the most elementary tasks. He cast about in his mind: who could or would be able to help him? How long for?

It had just begun to impinge upon his consciousness that the damage to his hands might be catastrophic for his musical life, when another doctor arrived.

He introduced himself as Mr James Tweedale, the surgical orthopaedic registrar assisting Mr Watkinson. He did the usual perusal of his chart and pronounced his recovery from the surgery a success.

"Any questions?" he asked.

"What's the damage to my hands, Doc? Will they heal? Will I be able to play again?"

"Oh," Mr Tweedale said, "You're a musician, aren't you?"

His face clouded. "I won't sugar the pill, Mr Smith. Someone wanted to destroy your hands. It was quite deliberately done. Your right hand suffered worse, there was a lot of bone and tendon damage, some bones were crushed. Mr Watkinson did a superb job piecing it all together again. Your left hand is less damaged, some fractures.

"I assisted in the operation; we were at it for five hours which is why I look like shit this afternoon, so I can tell you honestly that your left hand should recover.

"Your right is a different matter. There's no way of knowing how much use you'll get back. You will get some use back, but there's little chance of full use. Sorry. We did what we could."

Ged sank back onto the pillows, defeated. How could he go on without playing his music? He felt bleak.

"That's me finished then," he said disconsolately.

"Don't cross bridges Mr Smith – Ged," said the doctor. "As I said, we don't know how well you'll heal. With therapy who knows? Wait and see," with that he left.

If Ged had wanted to wallow in self-pity, he would have been disappointed, for through the door came Vivienne.

"Ged!" she said in greeting. "They told us to come back at four, but we rang and they said you were awake. How do you feel?"

"Rotten!" he muttered, "I've just been told I may never play again."

"Don't lose hope, Ged," she tried to reassure him. "We asked the doctor and he said it's impossible to tell. Don't give up just yet. Anyway what all this about you refusing to see Cassie? She's outside and very upset."

"Oh big deal!" Ged mocked. "She comes to mess with my head, and wonders why I don't want to see her."

"Come on Ged," she reprimanded him. "You're better than that."

"Look Viv, she's fucking some guy called Harry now. I don't want her near me. It breaks me up she's found someone so quickly, and I don't need her rubbing it in that she's with someone else. She doesn't care about me, or she'd have given us a chance. I begged her, Viv, and she turned me down. She wanted someone else, let her go with him and leave me alone."

He closed his eyes, feeling tired out with his outburst, but Viv was not finished with him.

"God, you're so stupid, Ged," she reproved him. "Listen to me, this is the truth. She has not had sex with Harry. Cheryl told me she discussed it with her, and decided to give it a long time before going that far.

"She was with Harry last night, they had had a meal at his place and they were watching the Ten O'clock News. Not very romantic eh? Your name alerted her and she heard what had happened. She left him flat and rushed here. She loves you, you idiot."

"She came because I stupidly didn't remove her as next of kin."

"No she didn't! She only found out she was next of kin when she got here. You do realise that if she hadn't authorised the operation on your hands they would have had to wait until your mother got here? How long would that take, eh? Any healing of your hands is down to her taking that decision. She waited and waited for news; she was distraught, Ged, understand? Distraught!

"Now she's outside and you won't see her. She's in pieces Ged, what sort of a man are you?"

He was silent.

She started again. "Tell me Ged, when she finished with you in that pub, what did you say? I'll tell you what you said, you moron, because everyone knows what you said – you told Marie.

"You said you would wait for her to come back to you. Well, she has come back, and you won't see her. Which is the lie, Ged, what you said in the pub or what you're doing now?"

"Lie?" That rattled him. It had not occurred to him.

"OK," he said, "Has she come back to me, or is she just worried about me?"

"I had a long talk with her and she thought things through last night. You will have to ask her, but you won't ask her will you? You're too pig headed."

"All right, all right!" he said petulantly with resignation. "Tell the nurses I will see her. She can come."

Viv grinned. "At last, some sense!" she said with relief. "I'll do that now."

She left, and Ged was left to wonder and to think. Why had she left this Harry and run to him? She was so adamant that it was over. She had said she loved him and that was why it had to finish. Did she love him? Really? She was so confusing. She had hurt him so much by finishing with him, but now she had come running. Why?

Well, he thought, perhaps I'll find out, though somehow I doubt it.

He was interrupted in this thoughts. Cassie came into the room.

Once again he was struck with her beauty, though her face showed there had been tears. Once again he had conflicting feelings about her. One part of him wanted her, and the other feeling was resentment, mainly because she did not smile when she saw him, but looked angry.

She saw his face cloud over, and he saw her jaw set in that way of hers. She came up to the bed and stood, though there was a chair. She looked at him and he thought her look was cold. She studied his hands then looked up at his face.

"It was mean and petty of you to stop me from coming to see you," she said, though in fact it was without anger, more sadness really. "Making me stand outside the hospital with the reporters and the fans. Some of the reporters recognised me. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and it will make the press tomorrow. I hope you're satisfied with your little temper tantrum."

Ged wanted to apologise but the words that came out were different.

"You've moved on," he said showing irritation at her opening speech. "You're over me now, and it didn't take you long, did it? Shows your real feelings for me. I hope 'Harry' is up to your exacting standards."

She was angry at that. "You really are a self-pitying wimp, aren't you?" she snapped. She launched into a singsong parody of Ged, "Oh, poor little me, left in the lurch by that unfeeling bitch!