from his bedside table and wandered over to the sink.
“You’re one lucky man,” she said returning with his glass. She didn’t pass him the glass, but rather put the glass to his lips allowing him to drink with her help.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital. You were shot outside the Cathedral and that Italian Bishop by all accounts has already left the country.” She paused “The entire population around the city thinks you are a hero for saving him!”
“What Italian Bishop?” he asked, trying to recall the events of the past few days.
“You were his bodyguard. You know your boss has spent the last two days sitting with you, eventually we had to send him home.” She chuckled. “He must be some friend.”
“Was he the guy in the trench coat?” A rush of fear cascaded through his body as this unfamiliar information was being fed to him.
“Oh dear,” mumbled the nurse under her breath. “I think you’d better try and rest now.”
“Wait, but what about…”
“Don’t worry. You will have plenty of time for questions later,” she said and scurried off to find Dr Stone.
Dr Stone was on an eight a.m. to eight p.m. shift. It was now nine p.m. and he would be lucky to get away by midnight. There was nothing unusual about this. With hospital overcrowding and a shortage of medical staff, most of them worked unauthorised and unpaid overtime. Nurse Stevens found him in his office trying to sneak in a break before starting his next offensive on the ever growing workload. She knocked at his door and entered.
Dr Stone was perched at his desk with head in hands wondering for how many more years he could put up with disease and death. He wore a gold watch which had been presented to him one year earlier for twenty five years of service. It had been paid for by the staff in recognition of their respect for his work. He was a caring man but was sickened at the way the National Health Service had changed over the years. Everything had become financially orientated. Caring for the sick, in his mind, had become a secondary consideration. He had given up his marriage for medicine and his only daughter was now an adult. She had foolishly he considered followed in his footsteps. It was no life for a girl , he thought. His home life was non-existent, as he had been unable to find a woman who could understand the long hours of work he endured, and the regular call outs from home. He longed for a woman’s company.
He heard the door open and he lifted his head. Hiding his thoughts he presented the nurse with a smile.
“Nurse Stevens. What can I do for you?” He had become very fond of her during the four years since they had started working together, treating her more like a daughter than a colleague. Perhaps this was in some part through guilt at not seeing his own daughter very often over the years.
“It’s Mr Walters. He’s conscious but seems to have… amnesia,” she said, realising he would have to officially make that diagnosis himself.
“Right, it may have been the shock… How sure are you?”
“Well, as soon as I suspected it, I thought it better to come and see if you were still here,” she replied.
“Really, Claire. You should know better… Everybody knows I practically live here!” he said sarcastically with a grin.
“Okay let’s go and have a word with him then.” He rose from his desk and marched over to the door, following on behind the nurse down the corridor to Harvey’s room.
“How’s Max?” he asked enquiring after her boyfriend.
“Oh… Max is Max, he’s hoping that we’ll be able to buy a house next year.” She could hardly wait.
“Well, send him my regards the next time you see him,” he replied making small talk.
Harvey Walters was lying flat on his back in bed. Okay I was shot, I’m a bodyguard. Seems like a short term profession to