They stood close, both needing the other to be near. The sirens faded as the ambulance disappeared down the other side of the hill on the moors. They gazed at the broken man in front of them; the man he had looked after for so many now dead. It was the only life he had known, and now he had nothing.
"If there's anything we can do…" Jill ventured then trailed off, her voice, too, broken. Gordon glanced at her and saw her to be on the verge of tears again. He shifted closer to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.
The man just shook his head, turned and walked away, posture slumped, before he was intercepted by a grim looking policeman. "We'll take him to The Royal, doctor." The policeman called as he led the man into the pander car.
Gordon nodded, following the two with his eyes until the man was safely in the car. He turned his attention to Jill to see her looking at him, chin quivering, tears on the verge of falling. He simply murmured "Come here" and that was all it took; she fell into his arms and clung to him. He pressed her close to him, one hand cradling her head to his shoulder, the other wrapped firmly around her.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her. One phrase kept running round in his head. One of the only things she'd uttered during the whole ordeal; "He's going to kill us all!" He couldn't get it out his head; the panicked way she'd screamed it, her equally as panicked face; hopelessness written on her face, pleading to him to help her, to save her, to stop him killing them. And the fact was he nearly did, Gordon had nearly lost her. A growing feeling of nausea grew in his stomach and he pressed her closer to him, needing to know she was okay, she was safe. He'd nearly lost her. If he'd arrived later, if he'd not found her at all, if the grenade had been thrown their way… He mentally shook himself, knowing it was no use dwelling on 'what ifs', she was safe and that's all that mattered. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop dwelling on the possibilities that could have made it so much worse, that would have meant him loosing her.
It was many minutes later when they heard PC Phil Bellamy clear his throat. They raised their heads, but still held onto one another, to see him looking regretfully at them.
"Sorry." He cleared his throat again, his discomfort obvious at intruding upon their private moment. "We need to take statements from you both. Are you okay to to come to the station?"
"If you don't mind constable, I'd like to go straight to the hospital: make sure Jill's okay." As he said this, Gordon tightened his arms around her slightly, as if to protect her yet further.
"Of course, that's fine. We can take the statements there."
"So can we go now?" They both looked at Jill as she uttered this in a small voice, so uncharacteristic to her normal, confident tone.
Gordon nodded. "I'll drive you."
Jill nodded ever so slightly, and took a step in the direction of his car. It was parked just behind hers, outside the open gate, the gate topped with barbed wire, the gate through which she'd stepped to begin her nightmare.
Bile rose in her throat as guilt washed over her; guilt at the death, guilt at the danger she'd brought Gordon into. She'd known as soon as she'd seen the gates that something wasn't right, that she shouldn't enter, and yet she'd proceeded to anyway. And the result was that one man had died, and more could have as well, one being her husband. At this last thought, she tore away from Gordon, turned her back on him and retched, bringing up her breakfast and lunch.
It was a while before she stopped. She straightened up and stepped back against something solid and warm. Immediately, a pair of arms came to encircle her, supporting her, and she allowed herself to sag into Gordon's arms, all energy drained from her.
She heard him murmur something to her, but she couldn't quite make out what; blood was thumping in her ears, making her head ache. She groaned and dropped her head back against Gordon's chest, closing her eyes, hoping her pulse would slow and the nausea would pass.
"Come on." Gordon said after a while. She allowed him to lead her in the direction of his car, PC Bellamy, however, stopped them.
"I think it would be best if I drove you in the Pander, so you," he looked at Gordon, "don't have to drive and worry about Doctor Weatherill at the same time. PC Younger over there can driver your cars to the hospital." He pointed to a younger constable who was wandering around the area, a look of deep concentration on his face as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.
Jill and Gordon nodded, both seeing sense in the police officer's proposition and changed direction for the police car instead.
Gordon, still keeping one arm securely around his wife, handed his keys to PC Bellamy. Jill, however, made no move to.
"Can I have you keys please doctor?"
She raised her head slowly, as if just realising they were needed. "Erm..." She struggled with the simple request, her mind was just too full of what had just happened, her emotions too erratic. "Erm..." She mumbled again, her brow creasing. Where were they? "They're in my handbag I think." She looked around her as if searching for it, then pointed with a slightly shaking hand to one of the dilapidated buildings. "In there with my doctors' bag."
She felt Gordon tighten his arm around her, pressing her closer to him, whilst he placed his other hand on her arm, rubbing it soothingly, calming her slightly.
PC Bellamy nodded understandingly. "PC Younger can fetch them for you aswell. Now," he said, his tone louder and brisker, "let's get you both to The Royal."
She allowed Gordon to help her into the Pander, and even do the seatbelt up for her. Normally, she would have been loath to be anything but strong and independent, refusing to let anyone help her, but after the previous few hours, she wanted nothing more than to be close to Gordon, and be held by him, to forget about what had happened, how close she had come to losing her own life, and losing him.
Gordon settled into the seat beside her, put his arm around her shoulders, and covered her hands with his. Hers were clasped tightly in her lap, her body rigid, but dropped her head to his shoulder. The tears hadn't stopped, she was no longer sobbing, but the tears still fell, almost without her recognition.
During the whole journey, noone spoke, Jill and Gordon didn't move from their positions, but the dark patch on his shoulder steadily grew as the tears spread across the material.
However, as soon as the red brick building came into sight, Jill lifted her head, slide her hands from beneath Gordon's and hurriedly wiped away her tears. She didn't want everyone at the hospital knowing how badly it had affected her. She couldn't bear people walking on eggshells around her, people who had previously practically ignored her beginning to act concerned for her all the time. And then there would be the gossip; how much of a state she'd looked, how she'd actually been crying. She'd be able to forget about the incident a whole lot easier if there was noone to remind her about it.
"I wish I had my makeup." She muttered, forcing a laugh. She looked at Gordon, smiling. "How do I look?"
"Jill..." His face took on a pained expression, as the hand on her shoulder tightened.
She shook her head, forcing her smile wider. "Let's just try and avoid any questions, eh." She patted his leg, then got out, smoothing her trench coat as she stood, making sure the sleeves covered her red-raw wrists.
They stood close, both needing the other to be near. The sirens faded as the ambulance disappeared down the other side of the hill on the moors. They gazed at the broken man in front of them; the man he had looked after for so many now dead. It was the only life he had known, and now he had nothing.
"If there's anything we can do…" Jill ventured then trailed off, her voice, too, broken. Gordon glanced at her and saw her to be on the verge of tears again. He shifted closer to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.
The man just shook his head, turned and walked away, posture slumped, before he was intercepted by a grim looking policeman. "We'll take him to The Royal, doctor." The policeman called as he led the man into the pander car.
Gordon nodded, following the two with his eyes until the man was safely in the car. He turned his attention to Jill to see her looking at him, chin quivering, tears on the verge of falling. He simply murmured "Come here" and that was all it took; she fell into his arms and clung to him. He pressed her close to him, one hand cradling her head to his shoulder, the other wrapped firmly around her.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her. One phrase kept running round in his head. One of the only things she'd uttered during the whole ordeal; "He's going to kill us all!" He couldn't get it out his head; the panicked way she'd screamed it, her equally as panicked face; hopelessness written on her face, pleading to him to help her, to save her, to stop him killing them. And the fact was he nearly did, Gordon had nearly lost her. A growing feeling of nausea grew in his stomach and he pressed her closer to him, needing to know she was okay, she was safe. He'd nearly lost her. If he'd arrived later, if he'd not found her at all, if the grenade had been thrown their way… He mentally shook himself, knowing it was no use dwelling on 'what ifs', she was safe and that's all that mattered. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop dwelling on the possibilities that could have made it so much worse, that would have meant him loosing her.
It was many minutes later when they heard PC Phil Bellamy clear his throat. They raised their heads, but still held onto one another, to see him looking regretfully at them.
"Sorry." He cleared his throat again, his discomfort obvious at intruding upon their private moment. "We need to take statements from you both. Are you okay to to come to the station?"
"If you don't mind constable, I'd like to go straight to the hospital: make sure Jill's okay." As he said this, Gordon tightened his arms around her slightly, as if to protect her yet further.
"Of course, that's fine. We can take the statements there."
"So can we go now?" They both looked at Jill as she uttered this in a small voice, so uncharacteristic to her normal, confident tone.
Gordon nodded. "I'll drive you."
Jill nodded ever so slightly, and took a step in the direction of his car. It was parked just behind hers, outside the open gate, the gate topped with barbed wire, the gate through which she'd stepped to begin her nightmare.
Bile rose in her throat as guilt washed over her; guilt at the death, guilt at the danger she'd brought Gordon into. She'd known as soon as she'd seen the gates that something wasn't right, that she shouldn't enter, and yet she'd proceeded to anyway. And the result was that one man had died, and more could have as well, one being her husband. At this last thought, she tore away from Gordon, turned her back on him and retched, bringing up her breakfast and lunch.
It was a while before she stopped. She straightened up and stepped back against something solid and warm. Immediately, a pair of arms came to encircle her, supporting her, and she allowed herself to sag into Gordon's arms, all energy drained from her.
She heard him murmur something to her, but she couldn't quite make out what; blood was thumping in her ears, making her head ache. She groaned and dropped her head back against Gordon's chest, closing her eyes, hoping her pulse would slow and the nausea would pass.
"Come on." Gordon said after a while. She allowed him to lead her in the direction of his car, PC Bellamy, however, stopped them.
"I think it would be best if I drove you in the Pander, so you," he looked at Gordon, "don't have to drive and worry about Doctor Weatherill at the same time. PC Younger over there can driver your cars to the hospital." He pointed to a younger constable who was wandering around the area, a look of deep concentration on his face as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.
Jill and Gordon nodded, both seeing sense in the police officer's proposition and changed direction for the police car instead.
Gordon, still keeping one arm securely around his wife, handed his keys to PC Bellamy. Jill, however, made no move to.
"Can I have you keys please doctor?"
She raised her head slowly, as if just realising they were needed. "Erm..." She struggled with the simple request, her mind was just too full of what had just happened, her emotions too erratic. "Erm..." She mumbled again, her brow creasing. Where were they? "They're in my handbag I think." She looked around her as if searching for it, then pointed with a slightly shaking hand to one of the dilapidated buildings. "In there with my doctors' bag."
She felt Gordon tighten his arm around her, pressing her closer to him, whilst he placed his other hand on her arm, rubbing it soothingly, calming her slightly.
PC Bellamy nodded understandingly. "PC Younger can fetch them for you aswell. Now," he said, his tone louder and brisker, "let's get you both to The Royal."
She allowed Gordon to help her into the Pander, and even do the seatbelt up for her. Normally, she would have been loath to be anything but strong and independent, refusing to let anyone help her, but after the previous few hours, she wanted nothing more than to be close to Gordon, and be held by him, to forget about what had happened, how close she had come to losing her own life, and losing him.
Gordon settled into the seat beside her, put his arm around her shoulders, and covered her hands with his. Hers were clasped tightly in her lap, her body rigid, but dropped her head to his shoulder. The tears hadn't stopped, she was no longer sobbing, but the tears still fell, almost without her recognition.
During the whole journey, noone spoke, Jill and Gordon didn't move from their positions, but the dark patch on his shoulder steadily grew as the tears spread across the material.
However, as soon as the red brick building came into sight, Jill lifted her head, slide her hands from beneath Gordon's and hurriedly wiped away her tears. She didn't want everyone at the hospital knowing how badly it had affected her. She couldn't bear people walking on eggshells around her, people who had previously practically ignored her beginning to act concerned for her all the time. And then there would be the gossip; how much of a state she'd looked, how she'd actually been crying. She'd be able to forget about the incident a whole lot easier if there was noone to remind her about it.
"I wish I had my makeup." She muttered, forcing a laugh. She looked at Gordon, smiling. "How do I look?"
"Jill..." His face took on a pained expression, as the hand on her shoulder tightened.
She shook her head, forcing her smile wider. "Let's just try and avoid any questions, eh." She patted his leg, then got out, smoothing her trench coat as she stood, making sure the sleeves covered her red-raw wrists.