Changing Lives
By Mabel Marsters
Chapter TenRupert Giles woke to the sound of the telephone on the bedside table ringing shrilly. He fumbled for the light peering short-sightedly at the clock next to the phone – 2 a.m. His hand trembled as he picked up the receiver knowing this couldn't mean good news. He was suddenly wide-awake.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Giles? Mr. Rupert Giles?" said the voice at the other end of the phone. The accent was English like his own.
"Yes," he answered, his mouth dry.
"My name is Detective Sergeant Wilson of the London Metropolitan Police."
"Oh God, what's happened?" interrupted Rupert.
"I'm sorry to have to inform you over the telephone, sir, but I'm afraid I have to tell you that there has been an accident, a road traffic accident. Thomas and Julia Norman and Jayne and William Pratt were killed instantly."
"No, no, it can't be," said Rupert, hardly able to take it in, "James? What of James?"
"James Norman is in St Catherine's Hospital. He sustained multiple fractures and is unconscious. His condition is critical. The reason I'm calling you rather than have some of my colleagues go to your home is that the doctors recommend you get here as soon as you can. The accident happened yesterday afternoon. I'm afraid it has taken us this long to track down the next of kin. Is there anyone else you'd like me to call for you? Any other family?" asked DS Wilson gently. He hated this part of the job.
"Um, no, there is no other family," said Rupert, still reeling from what he'd been told, "I'll be there as quickly as I can, thank you."
"I can arrange with the New York PD to have a car come over to get you to the airport and help get you on the next available flight. Would you like me to do that, sir?"
"What? Um, yes, thank you, that's most kind," replied Rupert. New York had never felt so far away from London.
He put the receiver down and put his head in his hands. All his relatives wiped out in one blow, apart from James if he managed to survive. His sister Julia's husband Thomas had been adopted and his 'parents' had died years ago so he had no other family to notify. Jayne and William had been alone since Steven had died in prison, not having any contact after his death with his side of the family.
Rupert sat there regretting how little he'd seen of his younger sisters in the past ten years or so, everyone being busy with their own lives and his job taking him all over the world. Jayne had shut herself away with William refusing any contact for years but since she'd been in touch with Julia he'd planned to help them - only now he never would. He hadn't seen James since he was about twelve, when he'd spent a Christmas with them. Was that really five years ago?
He pulled himself together, got up, showered and quickly dressed. He threw a few things into an overnight bag. He'd just finished when there was a knock at his door. He opened it to see a uniformed officer standing there.
"Just letting you know we're here, sir," said the police officer, "Just come down when you're ready."
"I'm ready now, thank you," replied Rupert.
He locked up his apartment and went down into the waiting squad car. He was grateful he hadn't had to get a cab. The presence of the police meant he was on the next flight, travelling business class to London's Heathrow airport.
He sat there praying that James was strong enough to pull though.
Ooooooo
Rupert Giles leapt out of the taxi and made his way up to the ICU, where he'd been told that James was being cared for.
"James Norman," he said when he got to the ward. "I've come to see my nephew James Norman, the police told me he'd been brought here."
"Yes, he is, I'll get a doctor to come to speak with you," said the nurse, picking up a telephone.
"I need to see him now," insisted Rupert, "I've just flown in from New York, I need to see him please." He was terrified that he had died.
"Alright, I'll get the doctor to come to his bed. He can tell you everything you need to know. Just prepare yourself, he has been quite bashed about," she said gently as she led him to a curtained-off bed at the side of the ward.
Rupert stopped dead when he caught sight of James. His face was badly bruised, almost unrecognisable. The left eye was swollen completely shut and surrounded by a crescent shaped line of black sutures, the whole left side of his face was swollen and black and blue. The right side of his face was relatively unscathed but for a few small cuts and grazes. His left shoulder and arm had heavy bandaging on it, his left leg a plaster cast. His chest moved rhythmically as he breathed with the aid of a machine.
The nurse motioned Rupert to a chair near the bed and he sat in it gratefully.
"The doctor will be along shortly," she said. She knew the boy's parents, cousin and aunt had died in the crash so she looked carefully at the man as he sat down. He'd had a terrible shock and no doubt had spent the flight in a state of high anxiety. Shock could have a serious affect. Her heart went out to the two of them.
"Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea?" she added.
"Um, yes…er…thank you," said Rupert, his eyes still fixed on his nephew.
She quietly left to get it. A hot sweet drink would help a little.
"Oh Lord, James," said Rupert in despair, the boy looked so frail lying there. He reached out to hold James' hand - it felt cool, despite the warmth of the ward.
"Mr. Giles?"
Rupert looked up. A tall dark haired man in a white lab coat stood at the opposite side of the bed.
"I'm Dr. Clarkson," he said, extending a hand over the still body of James.
Rupert stood up and shook the hand.
"Will he be ok?"
"We'll know more in the next few days, he has some swelling around the spinal column but there are no spinal fractures. The reason he is on a ventilator is that his breathing was weak unaided and it would be too tiring for him, probably due in part to the pressure caused by the swelling around his spine and his obvious facial injuries."
"Oh my God," said Rupert.
"We have every reason to believe that James will recover fully but head injuries can be difficult to predict. The next few days will be critical for him. We have to monitor pressure within his skull to make sure that it doesn't get too high and cause damage. He's been unconscious since he was admitted and the longer that continues the more concerned we'll be. But he has remained stable so we are very hopeful. He's a fit young lad and that's got to help. His other injuries are simple breaks and will mend without problem."
The nurse reappeared with a cup of tea. Rupert took it absentmindedly and sat back down next to James.
"Can I stay here with him?" he asked.
"By all means but remember that you will need to rest properly, too. James will need you to be strong for him when he wakes up. Have you got anywhere to stay?"
"I hadn't really thought of that, but ...er…I can probably use my sister's house," his voice broke as he realised she'd never be there to greet him again.
"Oh God, I'll have to make funeral arrangements for them all, too."
He collapsed into the tears he'd fought to hold in for the whole of the journey from New York.
"We have people here who can support you through this," said the doctor. He nodded to the nurse who, understanding what he meant, went to contact a counsellor.
Ooooooo
Three days had passed since Rupert had arrived to be with James. He'd been to view the bodies of his sisters, brother-in-law and nephew, needing to see them to pay his respects and to make the fact they were actually dead finally properly sink in. It seemed strange that they looked relatively unscathed yet had died whereas James was so badly battered and had survived. Their cremations had been arranged for a few days time. He'd gotten in touch with Thomas's workplace and his secretary had organised all of it, much to Rupert's relief.
He had moved into Julia and Thomas' house, getting a spare key from a neighbour. He stayed actually at the house as little as possible. It seemed wrong for it to be so quiet. The Christmas he'd spent there had been full of laughter, now it was empty and silent. He slept in the spare room that Jayne must have been using but didn't venture into James' room or the master bedroom, it seemed too much like prying.
He spent most of his time at James' bedside. So far there'd been no change, the doctors' emphasising that meant there had been no deterioration but Rupert couldn't help focussing on the fact it also meant no improvement.
Rupert was dozing in his chair at the side of the bed when he heard a noise. He looked at James to see his right eye open, the left still too badly swollen to be able to. He was choking on the tube in his windpipe. Rupert called for help, and then held James' hand.
"It's ok, James, it's going to be ok," he soothed.
James looked terrified, his hand weakly held onto Rupert's. The doctor arrived on the run.
"Just try to relax, James, it's only the tube that's helped you breathe the last few days. I'll take it out now, ok?" He unclipped the respirator from the tube. "Can you cough for me? It'll help me to ease it out."
The doctor gently and slowly eased out the tube, James coughed a few times as it was removed and he gasped before his breathing settled down. The doctor carefully watched how James was coping with breathing unaided, he was taking slightly shallower breaths than normal but had a good even rhythm.
"How did I get 'ere?" muttered James, his words almost unintelligible due to his swollen jaw and face hampering his speech.
"You don't remember?" asked Dr. Clarkson.
James shook his head a little. Rupert looked over at the doctor.
"It's quite normal, he probably won't remember the accident at all," he reassured Rupert. He turned his attention back to James.
"You were in a road traffic accident, James. You have been quite badly injured - a bang on your head left you unconscious for a few days. You've broken your shoulder blade, your ankle and you've damaged your cheekbone, jaw and nose. They'll all heal fine, it will just take a little time.
James lifted his right hand and gently touched his face, wincing when he reached the swelling around his left eye.
"You'll be ok, James, I'll be here for you," said Rupert.
James moved his head and studied Rupert carefully with a bit of a frown.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your uncle, Rupert Giles."
James just looked at him blankly. Rupert wasn't entirely surprised since they hadn't seen each other in many years but the doctor who didn't know this thought it a bit odd.
"James, can you tell me your last name?" he asked.
James looked at him for a long time before shaking his head.
"What's the last thing you remember?" asked Dr Clarkson.
Again the long pause, again James shook his head.
"I don't know," he whispered, "I can't remember anything."
A tear rolled slowly down his face from his right eye. He didn't try to wipe it away. He was scared. Why couldn't he remember? What if he never could?
To be continued……..