Getting through the day was tough as she had been made to tell her story over and over again. First to Stone, whose icy distance frightened her. Then Inspector Weston, who hauled her over the coals for her disobedience. Then she climbed the stairs to CID.
If she'd thought her immediate superiors' attitude was icy, CID was like the tundra. As she explained it all again to the DI and the DCI, her knees felt weak. Neither of them said a word as she re-told the story for the third time. As she reached the end, and there was still little or no reaction, she felt compelled to say something, to try anything to reach them. To tell them she was sorry.
Finally, she just said it outright: "I'm sorry."
"PC Armstrong, you were given a direct order, and you failed to carry that out. DS Turner is lucky to be alive." Impassive, Manson looked away. He was hard to read, but she was convinced she heard disgust in his tone.
Sally would have tried again, as she wanted to know how Stuart was, but the ice in the DCI's voice as he dismissed her was too much to take.
Even her uniformed colleagues were looking at her sideways. Inspector Weston restricted her to the station. Ben and Mel were warily giving her a wide berth. Nobody really wanted to talk about it. By the end of shift she wanted to sit down and cry. As she changed into her street clothes, she made up her mind. No one would tell her how Stuart was, though she needed to know. The day couldn't get any worse.
Picking up her bag, she hurriedly left the building. She planned to make one stop along the way. She wasn't even certain if he would let her get that close, but she had to try. And she had to take something. Turning up empty handed after her actions had nearly killed him would be wrong; she had no idea of Stuart's tastes and preferences, but a basket of fruit seemed like a good idea.
A good idea--she rather wished she'd had one of those when she was sitting in the car, watching. Perhaps she could have moved the car? Anything. Turn back the clock, reset... rewind. Anything at all but the film that was playing in her head: Stuart Turner risking his life to save her unworthy person from the consequences of her own stupidity.
Her body remembered his weight driving her to the ground and out of the line of fire, her hands remembered his blood soaking her clothes, and her mind was on loop, replaying that moment over and over and over again.
Knees shaking, she walked up to the desk and enquired. A nurse pointed the way. She managed to thank the woman in something near a normal voice and walked down the corridor.
Towards zero. She reached his room and paused. Summoning up some courage from somewhere, she forced her reluctant legs to walk. Pushing the door open, she entered.
At first she thought he was asleep. Although looking at him, she would have thought sleep was impossible. From what she could see, he was dressed in one of those unbecoming hospital gowns, his left arm was resting on some kind of support, and he was heavily swathed in bandages. She couldn't see the full extent of the bandaging, but she was certain it covered most of his upper body and left arm.
"I don't bite."
She nearly jumped out of her skin as he spoke.
"I – er..." Moving a little closer, she put down the basket of fruit on his bedside table. There were a few cards; the nearest had wobbly child's writing, and, unable to contain her curiosity, she took a little peek. Daisy hoped that her Uncle Stuart would be better soon.
Encouraged that he wasn't either shouting at her or giving her the frost treatment, Sally pulled up a chair and sat down.
"How are you feeling?"
"Mummified." The dark eyes opened, and he grinned at her. "On the plus side, I'm also drowning in painkillers, so I can't feel much."
The fingers of her left hand strayed across the sheets to his good right hand, and paused. And she looked up at him as unexpected warmth covered her trembling fingers. "I..." His face blurred as her tears gathered and fell.
"I know," he said.
"I...."
"You're sorry. Well, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have left you for so long." His hand squeezed hers. "Although next time..."
"Stay in the car," she finished for him. Even managed a slightly watery smile.
He shifted slightly, and winced. Part of her wanted to leap up to plump his pillows for him and soothe his fevered brow, but they didn't have that sort of relationship and she couldn't impose. He might have said that he couldn't feel much, but the lines of strain on his face told a different story.
He closed his eyes again, and she wondered if she should go. His hand was still holding hers, and she gently tried to remove hers from his grasp.
"Stay." He muttered. She looked down at her hand clasped by his, and nodded. She owed him that much at least, support for what he was going through. "Sure, if you want me to."
She settled back in the chair, and turned her hand so that she could hold his.
A knock at the door, and a young woman appeared with a tray. "Dinner." She announced, depositing the tray on the table, and moving it up close to Stuart, departing as suddenly as she arrived.
He scowled. Sally stood up, and opened the packet of plastic cutlery for him. "Here." She held out the flimsy plastic implement.
Stuart took it, and held it up, examining it in disgust. "Be still my beating taste buds." He poked the curious white square-shaped mound, "nothing in the animal or vegetable kingdom comes in a square... covered in what looks like wallpaper paste." He held up the implement. "And a spork."
Sally giggled.
"In the cupboard, top drawer, my wallet and my mobile." Stuart dropped the spork and pushed the tray away. Sally pulled the drawer open, and fished out the items.
"Thirteen on speed dial, order dinner for two." The door opened, and Jo stuck her head in.
Stuart smiled, "hi."
"How are you feeling?" Jo frowned slightly as she registered Sally's presence.
"Better make that dinner for three." Stuart held out his good hand to his friend.
Sally dithered. Jo's withering frown was enough. "Are you sure?"
"Dinner for three," he said firmly. "Menu B. Oh, and mixed sushi, sashimi. Can you go and get it. They don't deliver."
Sally looked doubtfully at Jo, she could sense that the older woman didn't particularly like her being there. But Stuart nodded and smiled at her, so she took the phone and the fifty pounds from his wallet, and left them alone.
