“You don’t have to tell me you’re better,” he said. “I can see that for myself.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “How long have I been here?”
He glanced at my papers at the foot of the bed.
“You were admitted at eleven-thirty on the night of September 6th. Today is September
12th. So you’ve been here six days.”
“September?”
48
“That’s right.”
“You mean July, don’t you? It can’t be September. We hit that car on July 29th: the night I
fought the Miami Kid.”
“I don’t know about that. You were admitted on September 6th.”
“That can’t be right. I couldn’t have remained unconscious for snore than a month before I
was found.”
The doctor smiled.
“Of course you couldn’t. As a matter of fact you were found almost at once. A speed-cop
heard the crash, although he didn’t see it happen. He arrived on the scene five minutes after
the smash. You were brought here an hour later.”
I licked my lips. My mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“You wouldn’t be fooling about the date, doc?”
He shook his head.
“No. I wouldn’t be fooling about the date.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, you
mustn’t worry about this. It’ll work out all right. At the moment you’re showing typical signs
of concussion. You’ve had a severe head injury. You’re lucky to be alive. For some time you
must expect to be confused. Dates, details of who was in the car and who wasn’t, even your
past may not make sense, but they will sort themselves out in a little while. At the moment
you are convinced the car crash happened on July 29th. You’ll find it impossible to believe it
happened on September 6th, but don’t let that worry you. In a week or so your memory will
function normally again. And another thing, don’t let the police rattle you. I’ve explained the
position to them, and they understand. They want you to help them if you can, bur they know
now that if you make mistakes you’re not doing it intentionally. All you have to do is to take
it easy and rest all you can. It’s just a matter of time.”
He was a nice guy, and he was doing his best for me, and I was grateful, but that didn’t stop
me worrying. I knew I had fought the Kid on July 29th, and the crash had happened on the
same night. Nothing he could say would alter that fact.
“I don’t want to argue about it, doc,” I said, “but do me a favour, will you?”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Della - the girl I was with. She’s here, too, isn’t she? Ask her. She’ll tell you it was July
29th. Ask her husband. He’ll tell you the same thing.”
49
The cheerful, bedside manner slipped a little.
“Now, here is a case in point,” he said. “This business about a husband. You must expect it,
you know. Only she and you were found in the car. There was no husband.”
My heart began to pound.
“Well, all right, there was no husband,” I said, trying to control the shake in my voice.
“Then ask her. She’ll tell you. You’re not going to say she wasn’t there, are you? Go and ask
her!”
He ran his hand over his sleek, dark hair. The smile had gone for good.
“A couple of days ago you weren’t well enough to be told,” he said gently. “I can tell you
now. She broke her back. She was dead when they found you.”
II
