“Well if you won’t blow it for me, I have to do it myself.”
“So you’re a contortionist too!”
Stephen blushed. “I was talking metaphorically.”
Joanna liked the way Stephen got embarrassed so easily; the colour bleeding into his cheeks made him look cute. “So you mean you can’t blow it yourself.”
“If only.”
“Then I guess I’d better loosen my lips.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
“You wish.”
“We could always work on it.” He winked then looked at his watch again. “I’ve really got to go now. If you’re still around later, I get off at five.”
“And what, you want me to watch?”
Stephen went a deeper shade of red. “I meant get off work.”
“Sure you did.” Joanna grinned. “I’ll see how I feel later on.” She kissed him quickly on the lips and then walked away, chuckling.
Walking around the shops tired Joanna more than she thought and by the time she arrived back at the hospital to meet Stephen, her eyes were stinging. The eye drops helped relieve some of the pain, but the thought of returning to the train station made her feel a little queasy, which is why she waited for Stephen to give her a lift home in his car.
She walked through the automatic doors in the A & E department and despite the distance and her blurred vision, she recognised Stephen sitting behind the desk by his light pink shirt, which he said made him look welcoming and approachable, but which she thought looked a little effeminate. At a distance, and with her distorted vision, he resembled a blancmange.
Hoping he noticed, she waved and saw him wave back. Then she went to sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area where people sat snuffling and complaining about the length of time they’d already waited to be seen.
After a moment, the blancmange came out from behind the security screen and walked towards her until it gained clarity.
“You ready?” Joanna asked.
“You’ll have to give me another fifteen minutes as I’m running late,” Stephen said. “How are the eyes?”
“They’d be better if I didn’t have to look at that pink shirt.”
“I could always wear my Hawaiian one instead.”
“What, and let me think I was on an acid trip. No, I think you should stick with the pink.”
“Are you talking rude again?”
“Moi? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Stephen grinned. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“I hope that’s only a reference to leaving work.” She saw Stephen blush before he walked away sniggering.
With the lack of chairs for those waiting to be seen by the medical staff, she stood and wandered towards the corridor leading to the various departments, each one reached by following the colour coded lines on the floor.
In the distance, she saw an orderly pushing a hospital bed towards her. As the bed got closer, she recognised the man lying in it as the bodybuilder who had fallen onto the railway tracks. She remembered Stephen saying his name was Lincoln.
He was propped up and by the looks of the bandaged stump around where his bicep would have been, they hadn’t managed to save his arm. But with no sign of the black phantom limb that she thought she had seen earlier, she now realised it must have been either her imagination or a visual aberration caused by the protruding stitch and despite her pity for the man, she felt relieved she wasn’t going bonkers.
As the bed drew alongside Joanna, the orderly pressed a button for the lift and Lincoln looked up at her. Despite his size and the fake tan adorning his face, he appeared drawn and sickly, no doubt an after-effect of the accident and subsequent operation. His eyelids flickered, eyes rolling in their sockets.
“Do I know you?” Lincoln asked, his voice a little slurred.
“I was at the train station,” Joanna said. “You sat next to me on the platform.” She paused. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“Not as sorry as I am.”
The lift doors opened and a couple of people exited.
Joanna looked back down at Lincoln, about to say something in reply, when she saw his eyes close as sleep laid claim.
Then his eyes snapped back open, making Joanna jump. He stared up at her, only his blue eyes were now as black as obsidian.
The black limb materialised from the stump of his arm, fingers flexing.
Joanna took a step back, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she shook her head, trying to dispel the image.
“It’s good to be back,” Lincoln said. “It’s been too long.” He grinned, the white teeth looking oddly menacing in the tanned features.
He stared at Joanna, and her legs started to shake.
“You know what they say, possession’s nine tenths of the law.” He emitted a booming laugh.
Despite the pain the movement caused in her eye, Joanna turned and ran. Ran as fast as her legs could carry her through the reception and out into the fresh air, the roar of laughter silenced by the doors sliding shut in her wake.
Whatever the hell was going on, she wasn’t going to hang around to find out.
CHAPTER 3
“What happened to you?” Stephen asked. “One minute you were waiting in the hospital, and the next you’d gone. I tried ringing you on your mobile, but you wouldn’t answer.”
Joanna leaned back on the threadbare settee and took a deep breath. What was the best way to tell him she might be going crazy?
“Jo, talk to me. I was worried sick. I went down the corridor where I’d seen you walk, and there was that man who lost his arm, you know Lincoln.”
Joanna shuddered and the blood drained from her face.
“He was waiting to be taken up in the lift. Looked way too, well, happy I guess, for a man who’d just lost his arm.”
“What about him?” Joanna snapped.
Stephen frowned. “Hey. Take it easy. No need to bite my head off. I was only going to say that the orderly pushing the bed said you ran off after talking to Lincoln. What’s going on?” His tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth.
Joanna closed her eyes, but the darkness behind the lids made her recall the blackness that surrounded Lincoln, so she opened them again. “I don’t know what’s going on. It’s… complicated.”
“Just tell me.”
She took another long breath, then an equally long exhalation, delaying the revelation. “That man, Lincoln.”
“Yeah, what a bloke. Talk about upbeat.”
“I thought you wanted to know what was wrong.”
“I do. It’s just, Jesus, man loses his arm and anyone would think he’d won the lottery. He asked about you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had an admirer.”
