Sister B, pushed open the doors of the ward with her back, in one hand she carried a cup of steaming cocoa, in the other a bowl of warm water, a towel and a spare pair of pyjamas were draped over her arm. She smiled as she turned to face Dennis, he was still sitting up in bed, hands on his knees, he was staring straight ahead, his expression blank.
She set the bowl down on the table at the end of the bed, placed the cup on the bedside table and closed the curtains around the bed.
“Now.” She said.
Dennis looked at the steaming cup and then at her.
“What is it?”<br>“Cocoa.” She smiled at him and dropped the towel and pyjamas over the arm of the visitors chair. “Take your top off.”<br>For an instant Dennis was about to protest, but he flicked open the buttons and eased his arms slowly out of the sleeves. His bruised muscles were beginning to stiffen and the stitches on the wound on his arm were tight as teh flesh was swollen. The pyjama top was cold and damp with his sweat. Sister B took it from him and dropped it onto the floor. From the bowl of water she took a flannel, squeezed most of the water from it and stepped closer to Dennis. Very gently she rubbed the damp cloth over the back of his shoulders.
“Alright?” She asked.
“Feels better.” His voice was low, his head bowed, knees drawn up, wrists resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely. Sister B washed his back slowly, starting at the clipped hair at the nape of his neck, moving outwards across this shoulders. His body was bruised, yellowing purple three day old bruises inflicted in her presence, surrounded by newer red bruises, caused by the explosion. Her hands were gentle, experienced, she had no desire to hurt any patient in her care, but she was especially careful with him. There were light grazes on his back, on his elbows, on the backs of his hands. She bathed his back, rinsing the cloth frequently. He winced very slightly as she moved over the worst of the grazes.
Brigid had a lot on her mind, her decision to leave the convent had not been taken lightly, the police sergeant had had a lot to do with her choice. She recalled very clearly how she had felt lying full length on the pavement outside the hospital, facing the low brick wall, the cold stone of the pavement beneath her and the warm protection of her police sergeant against her back. She remembered the warmth of his breath on her neck, the smell of his aftershave, the pressure of his knees against the backs of hers, the way he had spread his fingers instinctively protecting her face. She recalled with some regret that her first instinct as the danger had passed had not been for the injured, but pure desire to remain with him. She hadn’t yet been to confession, convincing herself that she had been too busy. There had been patients to deal with, her own thoughts to sort out, how could be explain to God what she didn’t understand herself? She took the towel and dried his flesh as gently as she had washed him.
“Lie back.” She instructed, rinsing the flannel. Dennis obeyed. His chest too was bruised, dark yellowing purple at the base of his ribs, red higher on his chest. She washed and dried his face with the lightest touch. He was suddenly reminded of being a child, of his mother wielding a lemon flannel and a bar of scented soap. Sister B placed the flannel at his shoulder and swept downwards in a gentle circling motion. He lay still, only his eyes moving as he watched her. He wondered what she was thinking, why she had left the convent. He face gave no hint of her thoughts, she was businesslike, but her touch was so gentle, so careful, so filled with,…… with love, he couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.
He watched her eyes, they followed her hands, a look of concentration, but he sensed something deeper. Her actions slowed as she moved over the deepest bruises on his ribcage. He straightened his legs as she washed his stomach. She towelled him carefully and slung the towel over her shoulder. Her long fingers curled around the cord at the waist of his pyjama bottoms, with a single tug she unfastened the bow.
“Slip them off.” She said quietly. Dennis obeyed, watching her expression as he laid back naked on the bed. He caught the slightest flicker as she took in the harsh bruises over his hip bones. He suppressed a smile as he remembered Jenny’s reaction.
Sister B moved slowly, deliberately and very, very gently. As she moved to wash his legs, she draped a spare towel across his hips. Dennis smiled inwardly, he wasn’t embarrassed, his time in the army had long since banished any embarrassment at being naked. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the feeling of the damp flannel on his skin, for the moment the demons had subsided. Sister B paused to rinse the cloth then lifted his feet one at a time and washed and dried each in turn.
“Can you turn over?” She asked, it wasn’t an order as her other instructions had been. Dennis rolled onto his side and then slowly onto his stomach, resting on his arms to keep his ribs clear of the mattress. He remained motionless as she finished the bed bath.
“You’re done.” She stated, dropping the flannel into the bowl with a slight splash. She unfolded the clean pyjamas and handed him the trousers. She cupped her hand around the mug of cocoa to test the temperature. She held the pyjama top for him and fastened the buttons for him, smoothing a crease from the folds with her hand against his chest.
“Feeling better?” She asked.
“Much better, thanks.” Dennis smiled, he ran his palm across the stubble on his jaw, it felt rough but was hardly visible. “I could do with a shave.”<br>“Drink this before it goes cold.” Sister B. handed him the mug. Dennis took a cautious sip, it was very sweet but the temperature was perfect. He glanced up at Sister B.
“It won’t hurt you” She assured him. “Is your razor in here?” She asked, opening the locker beside the bed.
“I expect so.” Dennis really had no idea what was in there, or even if Jenny had brought anything for him. The drink was comforting. Sister B held up his wash bag.
“Is this it?” She asked, her hand paused on the zip. Dennis nodded.
As he finished the drink she handed him the razor and his soap dish and brush. She held the bowl and a small mirror for him, watching as he shaved. His face was smooth, the action of his hands practiced, he hardly needed the mirror. He took the towel from her and patted his jaw dry when he had finished. He certainly felt a lot better than he had earlier. Sister B repacked his wash bag and stowed it in the locker.
“Now you just relax.” She instructed as she rearranged the covers and tucked the sheets tightly under the mattress. “I’ll be just over there, so there’s no need to worry.”<br>She opened the curtains with a deft flick and flashed him a smile as she took the bowl of water and the laundry.
Dennis settled his head onto the newly fluffed pillow, it was comfortable, the tightly tucked sheets felt very secure. He puzzled for a moment over her last statement but decided that she knew best and let his eyes slowly close.
In the dim light of the ward a solitary figure picked his way carefully, his dressing gown flapping as he padded barefoot between the beds. Bandaged hands opened a bedside locker in total silence, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that the nurse and the police guard were still absent, before rummaging through the contents. What he sort was not there. He moved to the next bed and repeated the process, this time he had more success, a packet of cigarettes. He opened it, counted the contents, replaced it in the locker and located what he desired, a box of matches. Slipping them into the pocket of his dressing gown he retraced his steps.
Dawn was bright and sunny, Sister Brigid checked each of her patients in turn. The man under police guard in the corner was sleeping, the police constable, who had spent most of the night at his bedside was looking very tired. She exchanged a sympathetic smile with him. The two patients opposite were still sleeping, in the next bed, William Shiner was awake, he greeted her with a half smile, she checked his temperature, pulse and blood pressure, all were fine. She filled in the chart with neat hand writing.
In the next bed Dennis was sleeping peacefully. She paused to watch him for a moment or two, the nightmares seemed to have calmed, he was breathing easily. He lay on his side, one hand on the pillow, beside his face, palm upturned with his fingers slightly curled. In the next bed the elderly man was still asleep, she watched him breathing too, then turned to her paperwork, her shift was almost over.
Outside Mr Harper parked his car in the usual spot. As he closed the door Dr Ormerod and Dr Wetherill arrived. Then something caught his eye. Smoke! He had to look again, it was real, a coil of black smoke weaving it’s way towards the bright blue sky from one of the windows. Mr Harper sniffed the air, it was deffinatley smoke.
“Jill!” Dr Ormerod laid his hand on her arm. “Look!” He too had spotted it. He handed his bag to Jill.
“Gordon!” Jill shouted after him as he set off towards the entrance at a run.
Nigel Harper was right behind him.
In reception Lizzy jumped as the Doctor and Administrator burst through the door.
“Fire!” Screamed Mr Harper.