New Directions (33)

Note: this part follows on from the UPDATED versions of part 31 & 32

By 1pm I judged it would be safe to take to the road. The snow was melting slowly, but the main roads would be clear. The ETA on both TomTom © and Waze© promised to get me to Celia about 2.30, time enough before visiting hours ended.

Chubbyface greeted me like an old friend, ‘Good afternoon, Mr James, how are you today?’ Her smile like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy hospital atmosphere. ‘Miss Bow is a lot better. The bruising is fading and she has less pain. She was asking about you this morning.’

‘Will I be in trouble for not coming sooner? I joked.

‘Oh no, Mr James, she is so sweet, I don’t think she could be angry with you.’

‘That’s a relief,’ I smiled, ‘it’s been rather busy the last few days, but Mr. Dev kept me informed.’

‘Mr. James is here to see you.’ Chubbyface sang as she opened to door to Celia’s room.

Sitting up in bed, Celia’s face burst into a wide smile, her childlike laugh blew away all the dark cobwebs in my head for a while, but of course as cobwebs do they would return. Her eyes, still surrounded by fading purple, shone as bright as the first time we met. Holding out her arms she demanded a hug. I tried to be gentle, but her grip was stronger than I expected.

‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,’ she said. ‘You were so kind to me. I cannot imagine what would be if you had not saved me from that man.’ Her expression darkened for a second, tears of recollection welled in her eyes.

‘You did pretty well yourself, Celia, I said, ‘I felt the weight of that frying pan.’ We both laughed very loud.

Serious again, Celia took my hand and squeezed. ‘Thank you so much Terence.’

Sentiment over we continued chatting about Dev; the hospital services; the friendly policemen and how lovely nurse Annaleen (Chubbyface) was. Eventually she told me about Reginald’s plan to move her to a family clinic by Christmas. Celia seemed excited about it and not without pride she showed me the brochure Reginald had given her. I made a note of the address and website of the clinic, promising to visit her as soon as she settled in. Clearly the duke wasn’t keeping it secret, but I couldn’t stop the squalid part of my mind from wondering if there was a smokescreen in Guido’s remaining 10%.

I waited until there were only a couple of minutes before the time I knew Chubbyface would pop in and remind us visiting was over. Checking my watch I said, ‘Oh dear it’s nearly time to go. Time does fly doesn’t it?’ After Celia’s nodded agreement I made my planned move. Getting up as if to leave I faked hesitation, ‘Goodbye Celia . . . oh I nearly forgot, do you know this man?’ I delved into my jacket pocket and showed her the picture of Mercer I’d copied off his linkedin profile.

Squinting at the image, Celia frowned. ‘Why that’s young David,’ puzzled she said,’I’ve never seen him dressed like that.’

‘Well he’s on holiday, he emailed, he wanted me to wish you his best wishes,’ I lied hoping the police or Dev hadn’t mentioned him.

‘Oh how wonderful of him, such a nice boy. Is he over his operation now?’ 

I’d forgotten the pack of lies I’d fed her a couple of week previous, but luck let me remember that one.’ Yes they discharged him last week, we suggested he take a break before he started working again.’

‘Oh Terence that’s so kind of you and Dev.’

I shrugged, ‘He deserved it. Please don’t mention to Dev I told you, he gets so embarrassed about things like that.’ At that moment Chubbyface poked her head round the door giving me my chance to make a quick exit.

Driving home I felt very chuffed with myself. I’d had to join Linkedin © using one of the fake names and email addresses I’d put on one side long ago for future use. It wasn’t something I like doing but it was worth it. I now had the nasty little fucker’s phone number email and even a web address. I knew what he looked like and where he worked and how to contact him. 

No time to wait for Guido’s guy as far as I could see: there were calls to make searches to do when I got home. With luck I’d have him by tomorrow night. The ironic thing is: if I did find him I’d probably be saving his scrawny neck.