Chapter Thirty-One
Ros was aware of a lot of anxious voices. ‘Shhh,’ she said, trying to sit up.
‘Thank heavens you’re awake. No, no, no, don’t move,’ said Cameron with abject panic in his voice.
‘Whyever not?’ asked Ros, shuffling herself upright so she could lean against the back of the seating. She tried to focus on the blurry faces in front of her.
‘You’ve had an accident,’ said Darla, who was rather pale and quickly looked away.
Ros mentally scanned her body. She’d likely bruised her bum, otherwise everything felt normal. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘It looks like you hit your head on the metal cleat as you went over the back of the seat. The ambulance is on its way,’ explained Cameron.
‘I definitely don’t need an ambulance,’ said Ros.
‘You do,’ said Darla, still averting her eyes.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Ros put out her hand to push herself up further and felt something wet and gloopy. She looked at her palm to see it was dripping with blood. ‘What on earth?’ She looked to Darla for an explanation but Darla was now hiding behind a cushion.
‘It’s coming from your head,’ said Darla. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t clear it up or I’ll be sick.’ She retched at the end of the sentence. Just the thought of it was apparently enough to unsettle her stomach.
Ros felt around her head with her clean hand until she found a wet patch. When she looked at her palm she was surprised to see that too was now covered in blood. ‘Goodness. I think you’re right. It’s strange because it doesn’t really hurt.’
‘How much longer until the ambulance gets here?’ called Darla.
‘Almost here,’ called back a police officer.
Darla told Ros that it was the nice officer who had checked that Darla was okay after she’d fainted and who had been quite keen to taser Cameron seeing as he was the only person standing whilst three other people were all strewn on the deck. Cameron had explained that it was him who had made the 999 call after receiving a text from Ros but the police officer hadn’t been keen to believe him. Thankfully Darla had quickly come round and backed up Cameron’s version of events.
Cameron crouched behind Ros so she could lean against him. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘I feel fine. But obviously...’ Ros waved her bloodstained hands and that was Darla’s cue to make a dash for the toilets below deck.
‘You had us worried there.’ Cameron passed her a clean tissue.
‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping her hands.
Cameron scanned her with worried eyes. ‘I thought that you... it really scared me. I’m still pretty scared,’ he added, glancing at the blood.
‘A little bit of blood goes a long way and the head is covered in blood vessels. What happened to Patrick?’
‘I tied him up with the mooring line. He’s got a worse headache than you. Well, he’s complaining more.’
‘You could have killed me!’ Patrick shouted from the other side of the boat where police were handcuffing him.
Ros smiled over her shoulder at Cameron. ‘You came to our rescue.’
‘Of course I did.’ The way he looked at her made her giddy or perhaps it was the head injury.
‘You’re lovely,’ she said and then instantly wished she hadn’t. ‘I think maybe I’ve got concussion,’ she added hastily in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. She was grateful for the sound of the siren that interrupted them.
Twenty minutes later the police were taking Patrick off to the station for a chat while Ros was having her head examined by a paramedic. ‘Now it’s stopped bleeding I could probably stitch it up here,’ said the paramedic. ‘But because you were unconscious we need to get you checked over at hospital anyway, so I’ll let them do it as I stitch like Dr Frankenstein.’ Only he laughed at his joke. ‘Tough crowd,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Unconscious? I was out for less than a minute. That hardly needs hospitalisation. I’d be grateful if you could stitch me up here, please,’ said Ros.
The paramedic winced and pointed upwards. ‘The powers that be say I need to take you in.’
‘You are not employed by God,’ said Ros. ‘And I’m fairly certain you cannot force me to go somewhere I don’t want to go, as I believe that would be kidnapping.’
‘Ros, come on. He’s trying to help,’ said Cameron.
‘And I really do appreciate his medical expertise, but with an overrun NHS I don’t want to add to their problems when I’m perfectly fine.’
‘I’d be happier if you went to hospital,’ said Cameron.
‘Me too,’ said Darla, who was now out of the toilet but still rather pale.
Ros looked at the paramedic. He made an exaggerated puffing noise. ‘I don’t want to add abduction to my CV but there’s loads of paperwork I have to fill in if you won’t go. Well, it’s one form but still, I could do without it.’
Ros felt defeated. ‘Fine, but I still think it’s unnecessary and I will be leaving as soon as possible.’
‘Fair enough,’ said the paramedic. ‘I’ll get the stretcher chair.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Ros. ‘Cameron, help me up please.’
‘Independent, isn’t she?’ said the paramedic.
‘Militantly so,’ said Cameron, putting his arm around Ros and helping her to her feet.
As Ros had expected, the wait at the hospital was tedious and long but the nurses were really nice, and once she was through the waiting a lovely doctor checked her over and to her satisfaction declared that she just needed to be stitched up and sent home with a checklist of things to look out for in case she showed any signs of concussion. Thankfully she wasn’t in any real pain with the exception of her bruised backside. They had given her painkillers for her head but she’d had worse headaches. Ros was sitting quietly and listening to the doctor and nurse chat whilst they stitched up her head, when she became aware of raised voices heading her way – unsettlingly familiar voices at that.
‘Hold on,’ said the doctor, as the curtain was pulled back to reveal her father and mother.
‘They’re my parents,’ said Ros by way of apology. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked them whilst also giving wide eyes at Cameron and Darla. Darla pointed at Cameron.
‘Cabbage! What happened?’ Barry looked shocked.
‘We know what happened. Cameron said she’d been pushed over by a con man.’ Amanda was scowling at Barry. ‘Is your memory affected?’
Barry ignored her and came to stand next to Ros and hold her hand. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ said Ros.
‘Is she okay?’ Barry asked the doctor.
‘I’m just tying off the last stitch then she’s good to go. Did someone give you the concussion checklist?’ he asked Ros.
‘I’ve got it,’ said Cameron. ‘I’ll take good care of her.’
‘I know you will,’ said Barry. Ros was heartened by the look that passed between the two men.
‘What were you doing on a boat with a con man?’ asked Amanda.
Ros replayed the whole thing in her mind. ‘It’s too complicated to explain. But in summary, not my con man, not my boat, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘You’ll need to speak to the police,’ said Darla to Ros. ‘Patrick could have...’ Darla swallowed hard; the events had obviously upset her.
‘Killed her?’ prompted Amanda. ‘I suppose that could have been the case.’ She turned to Cameron. ‘Was that why you called us?’
‘I was worried she was not going to let them treat her and I thought if you were here...’ he nodded at Barry ‘...she’d listen to you.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Barry with a warm smile at his daughter. ‘But I’m glad you called us,’ he added.
Ros pressed her lips together. She knew this was one of those moments when it was best that she kept her thoughts to herself. She also knew that whatever Cameron had done, however rash, he would have done it with her best interests in mind.
The nurse began removing things around them. ‘All done,’ said the doctor. ‘You’ll need to get in touch with your GP practice about getting the stitches removed in ten days.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ros and Barry shook the doctor’s hand.
‘Let’s get you home,’ said Cameron, sliding an arm around her to help her to her feet.
‘Are we all going back to Ros’s?’ asked Barry.
‘No,’ said Ros and Cameron together.
‘I think it’s best that she rests,’ said Cameron. ‘I’ll call you later to let you know how she is.’
‘But I will be fine,’ said Ros.
Cameron held her gently around her waist and guided her out of the cubicle and into the corridor. ‘I felt I needed backup so I called Barry. Sorry,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘You should be,’ she whispered back with a smile.
***
After the hospital Darla went to the police station to give a statement. She knew if she didn’t do it as soon as possible she’d only keep putting it off. The police officer she saw was patient and understanding, and giving a statement was a lot easier than she’d expected, but then she’d only ever seen TV programmes where police were interrogating the bad guys. Next she went to see the owner of the boat. She’d given his details to the police so she guessed if he hadn’t already he’d be getting a visit from them. His house was just as she’d expected: modern, stylish and blooming huge. She knocked on his door and waited. A heavily made-up woman in her forties opened it.
‘Yeah?’ She was scanning Darla up and down as if expecting her to be delivering something.
‘Hi, I’m here to see Mr Rogers.’
‘He’s out. I’m his wife. What did you want him for?’
Darla rummaged in her bag. This might be the cheat’s way out but she was going to take it. ‘Please can you give him these? They’re the keys to his yacht. I’m Darla and I suspect he won’t want me cleaning it after today so—’
‘Oh hell, you’re the girl who was kidnapped? Come in,’ she said, taking Darla by the arm and giving her no choice as she pulled her inside.
‘Actually it only drifted like a couple of feet away from the pontoon before we got wedged so I wasn’t really kid—’
‘Let me get you a drink. Tea, coffee, something stronger for your nerves? Brandy!’ But before Darla could choose the woman had disappeared, leaving Darla alone in the vast hallway. She reversed back and grinned at Darla. ‘This way, lovey, come and sit down and you can tell me all about it.’
The living room was huge and had three very large white leather sofas. Darla perched on the edge of the nearest one and noticed the seat was covered in muddy paw prints. The woman held out a large brandy. ‘Actually, I’ve got my car so I won’t have a drink but thank you,’ said Darla, keen to hand over the keys and leave.
‘After the shock you’ve had, leave your car here and I’ll pay for a taxi home. Get that down you.’
Darla stared at the glass.
‘I insist,’ said the woman, who didn’t look like she was going to give in easily.
The stalemate got the better of her and Darla took the brandy. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m forgetting my manners. My name’s Margy.’ She offered a limp hand, which Darla shook.
Margy came to sit next to her. She rubbed at the ingrained dirt on the seat before sitting down. ‘Blooming dogs. I love them but the mess they make.’
‘White vinegar and water,’ said Darla almost automa-tically.
‘That won’t go with brandy.’
‘No, for the stains. Mix equal parts white vinegar and water and dab it on the muddy patches, leave it for five minutes and then wipe off with a clean damp cloth.’
‘I’ll tell my cleaner to try that. Is it a secret formula?’
‘I work a lot with animals.’ Darla sipped the brandy and it almost took her breath away. ‘I expect Mr Rogers is quite cross, is he?’
‘He was spitting feathers.’
Shit, thought Darla, was she going to get sued? Could he get her prosecuted? That was the last thing she needed. ‘I’m really very sorry. You see—’
‘Oh lovey, not with you.’ Margy patted Darla’s knee. ‘With the fool who stole the yacht.’
‘I thought he’d blame me and sack me.’
‘Goodness, no. This isn’t your fault,’ said Margy.
Darla took a deep breath. ‘It kind of was. The man who tried to steal the yacht was my ex-boyfriend, so it was me he followed to the boat. I wouldn’t blame Mr Rogers if he didn’t want me anywhere near his yacht from now on.’
‘You silly thing. He’d have me to answer to if he suggested sacking you. And he wouldn’t dream of it. He thinks you do a wonderful job.’ Darla couldn’t help but feel a little stab of pride. ‘No, he doesn’t blame you at all. It’s all the fault of that kidnapper who almost murdered your friend. Terrible business. Is she in intensive care, your friend?’
‘Err, no, she’s gone home.’ Darla wasn’t sure if Margy looked relieved or disappointed. ‘But she has lots of stitches in her head and might have concussion,’ added Darla.
Margy gasped. ‘The poor thing. And you witnessed it all. Now tell me everything. I mean it, don’t leave anything out.’ Margy fixed her with a steely gaze.
Darla took another sip of brandy and winced. She feared this was going to be a long story.