Chapter 6
Murray closed his eyes. The greenish-bluey blur of the marshes sliding past the taxi window was making him feel a bit queasy. It was Monday morning… and he still wasn’t feeling quite right.
Also - how was it Monday already?!
He couldn’t believe he’d been stuck in the hospital for the entire weekend. According to the frazzled, overworked nurses who’d been in charge of him, Murray had still been unconscious when he’d arrived in the ambulance. Even when he did regain his faculties, it had taken him a little while to come around properly… and even longer for him to piece together what had happened.
As soon as the strong painkillers started to work their magic – taking his headache from full-on tympani to more of an annoying background bongo - Murray had asked to go home.
Fat chance of that, though!
The nurse had basically laughed in his face and told him he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d had his head scanned… and after that, he’d be sticking around for observation until he’d managed to convince the doctors he wasn’t about to keel over.
When Murray asked how long it would all take – an hour? or two? - she’d laughed again. Then she’d casually tossed the words “oh, probably about a week” over her shoulder as she’d beetled off to deal with another patient - who was loudly demanding strawberry jelly at the other end of the ward.
Luckily for Murray – she’d either had a slightly evil sense of humour, or the ward had simply become too busy to waste a bed on the guy who’d got into a fight with a bunch of flowers. Either way, the scan must have come back clear - because he’d been sent packing after just two nights.
If he was honest, Murray was feeling like a bit of a fraud. There didn’t seem to be much wrong with him other than the modest bump on his head where the bouquet had landed. It felt like he should have something a bit more dramatic to show for the whole thing – especially considering the chaos it had caused.
Apparently.
He couldn’t remember much about it.
Stretching in his seat, Murray let out a soft groan. There might not be much wrong with him other than the bump and a few bruises – presumably from where he’d hit the ground – but boy did he ache!
Murray’s suit didn’t look much happier than he did. A couple of days spent screwed up on a chair beside his hospital bed certainly hadn’t been very kind to it.
He blew out a long breath, impatient to get home so that he could get changed, grab some paracetamol and then a much-needed nap. Still… he knew he should thank his lucky stars that he was on his way home. It could have been so much worse. At least he hadn’t broken anything.
Well… maybe his pride… but that was another story!
‘Heavy weekend?’
Murray’s eyes met those of the taxi driver in the rear-view mirror. Brian Singer was grinning at him – clearly taking his rumpled appearance as the sign of a walk-of-shame after a damn good blow-out.
If only!
‘Something like that!’ said Murray, forcing himself to return Brian’s smile, even though it seemed to offend the bongo player inside his skull - if the renewed thumping was anything to go by.
Murray had called Brian to pick him up from the train station. He hadn’t really felt up to facing public transport, but the hospital was a bit too far from Crumbleton to warrant a taxi all the way back. At least the short train ride had meant he could be returning from anywhere. If the chatty cabby didn’t know what had happened at the wedding, Murray certainly wasn’t going to be the one to fill him in.
He knew that it wasn’t really his fault he’d got walloped over the head by a flying bridal bouquet, but it was hardly something he wanted to broadcast either. If Murray had his way, the whole incident would never be mentioned again…
‘Well – your weekend can’t have been as bad as one of the blokes who went to the Dolphin and Anchor wedding on Saturday!’ chuckled Brian.
Huh, so much for keeping the whole thing quiet!
‘Oh?’ said Murray vaguely.
‘Poor blighter had quite a nasty accident!’ said Brian. ‘He got clonked on the head by a bunch of flowers.’
‘Really?’ muttered Murray, cringing slightly.
‘Yep – had to be airlifted out of town too!’
Murray let out a snort of surprised laughter, but luckily Brian mistook it as a sound of shock.
‘I know – I couldn’t believe it either,’ he said, his eyes going wide in the rear-view mirror. ‘I wasn’t in town at the time – I had a fare over to Crumbleton Sands – but I heard all about it when I got back. I can’t imagine where the helicopter managed to land – maybe they did one of those hover-manoeuvres where they haul you up in a basket?’
‘Erm… maybe?’ said Murray. The pounding in his head was growing even louder – probably from the sheer pressure of trying to stop a wave of giggles from escaping.
‘Anyway,’ said Brian. ‘I heard there were police and ambulances and the fire brigade and everything… though I’m not exactly sure what they were all doing there.’
‘No… I can’t imagine,’ choked Murray as a full-blown chortle erupted from his throat.
Brian shot him a look of concern. Perhaps he thought he was crying or something.
‘Ah now, lad!’ he said consolingly. ‘I’m sure whoever it was will be fine… though they did say there was an awful lot of blood!’
Murray bit his lip and leaned back against the seat, shaking his head in amusement. He could only marvel at Crumbleton’s storytelling prowess. Of course, he had been unconscious for the whole thing, so there was a faint possibility there really had been a helicopter… and fire engines… and the police… but somehow, he doubted it!
As for there being blood everywhere…? If that was true, it certainly hadn’t come from him. Murray didn’t even have a scratch on him – just the less-than-impressive bump on his noggin.
Brian was still chattering away in the front seat about how much he wished he could have seen it all.
‘Probably a good thing I missed it, though… I’m not great with blood, me!’
Murray closed his eyes and let it all wash over him. He really needed that paracetamol and a lie-down!
‘They must have picked the bloke up nice and fast,’ Brian continued, unmoved by Murray’s silence. ‘I was only gone for about an hour, and everything was quiet by the time I got back. Outside, at least – the disco inside was quite loud. I wanted a game of darts in the bar, but the best man pretty much growled at me, so I decided to give it a miss after all.’
Best man?
Murray let out another low groan. There was only one person that could have been. Josh must have been in seventh heaven when he’d been carted away in the ambulance!
‘Must have been one heck of a party you’ve been to, if you’re only just getting back now,’ said Brian, giving him a sympathetic glance in the mirror. He clearly thought Murray was suffering from a hangover to end all hangovers rather than a sunflower-induced concussion.
Murray just forced a rueful smile. He wasn’t about to put him right. ‘Reckon you can drop me off at the wharf?’
‘That’s a little way out,’ said Brian in surprise. ‘Sure you don’t want me to take you into town instead? You look like you could do with a couple of cups of Mabel’s coffee and a bacon sarnie before you even think about rowing back home.’
Murray shook his head, and then promptly wished he hadn’t. ‘The wharf’s fine, thanks.’
As much as Murray would love a coffee right now, he didn’t want to reappear in town looking like the crumpled ghost of a best man doomed to wander Crumbleton in a morning suit for all eternity. Besides, he smelled like hospital – a strange mixture of stress-sweat and disinfectant. He needed a shower, a change of clothes and a lie-down.
Plus… he couldn’t risk bumping into Milly in this state. He’d been so excited to see her on Saturday, but now… he wasn’t so sure! He had no idea if she’d witnessed his bouquet-headbutt-of-shame, but judging by how intrigued Brian seemed to be about the whole thing, he wasn’t about to kid himself. Milly would have heard all the details by now – both the real ones and the extended director’s cut, complete with blooper reel!
‘Nearly there,’ said Brian, glancing at him again, clearly wondering if he was about to disgrace himself by puking all over the back of his pristine cab.
‘Mm,’ said Murray vaguely.
‘You know… they never did find out what happened to the bouquet after it knocked that chap out.’
‘Uh huh?’ said Murray.
‘Yeah… weird, huh? Someone must have taken it, I guess. Whopping great big thing it was too, apparently. It must have really done some damage. Personally, I think I would have ducked if I saw it coming straight for me!’ He pulled a face and drew the taxi to a gentle halt.
Murray simply smiled and started rummaging in the pocket of his ridiculous, tailed jacket for his wallet. He couldn’t wait to get out of the car - he didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see his boat waiting for him!
‘Thanks for the ride – keep the change,’ he said, handing over a couple of notes.
‘Right you are,’ said Brian, taking the money with a grateful nod. ‘Now – remember what I said – bacon sarnie and a coffee and you’ll be as right as rain. Reckon you won’t be partying quite so hard again for a little while, eh?’
‘Probably not,’ said Murray with a rueful smile before making a break for it.
Crossing the road in front of the cab, Murray took a deep breath - glad of the fresh air after the stuffy hospital ward followed by the scent of Brian’s air freshener. He turned and raised his hand to wave Brian off, only to catch the taxi driver eyeballing his crumpled suit with raised eyebrows.
Uh oh!
Murray hurriedly started to untie the boat and then hopped down. He was uncomfortably aware that Brian was watching his every move. Something told him that he’d just been rumbled.
Taking his seat, Murray grabbed his oars and began to row, keen to put as much distance between himself and the taxi as he could.
‘Blasted thing!’ he muttered, cursing the stupid jacket as it immediately cut into his arms.
Pausing briefly, he yanked it off, not caring in the slightest when the movement resulted in a loud ripping sound. He just tossed it onto the grubby deck and rolled his shoulders.
There… much better.
Grabbing the oars again, Murray pulled hard. The boat shot through the water, leaving Brian Singer staring after him.