6. Megan
Chapter 6
Megan
As if the Accident and Emergency department wasn’t noisy enough with beeping machines, and trundling gurneys, the gentleman in the next bay has been farting constantly since I arrived, with little care for those who have to suffer through it.
I don’t think an ambulance was necessary, but after the intruder at my door ran off, the man who interrupted him called for one before I could object. Now, I’ve been prodded and poked, had lights shined in my eyes, and been crudely patched up. The hospital is as busy as ever, but they won’t let me leave alone, and I feel like nothing more than a nuisance.
The police came to take a statement, but since I couldn’t offer much of a description, and nothing was stolen, I hope they won’t waste their time. He was just a kid, and there’s no actual harm done.
And Rob is here too, wasting his time on something far beneath his pay grade, but refusing to leave me alone.
There’s commotion and panic in the corridor, and my dad appears from behind the curtain.
“Megan? Oh my God, Megan. Are you OK? I’m here now.”
I scoot up a little in the angled bed. “I’m fine Dad. It’s just a bump.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to break into the building. There was a scuffle.”
“That bastard. My baby girl,” he cries, wrapping himself around me a little too hard.
“Mr Porter, I’m Dr Rob Morgan, I’m one of the neuropsychologists here, and I’m also a friend of Megan’s.” Rob extends his palm and Dad shakes it, staring at the bandage wrapped around my head. “We met at Kara and Luke’s wedding?”
Dad blinks at him a few times, nodding as he places his face. “Yeah. OK. So neuro… What does that mean? What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m called to assess patients with head injuries and make recommendations on treatment plans.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying she’s got brain damage?”
This is so embarrassing.
“No, Dad. Stop being so dramatic,” I butt in.
“Megan’s absolutely fine in that sense, Sir. She had a minor cut to the back of the head that we’ve glued together.”
“Glue?” Dad yells.
“It’s not as barbaric as it sounds, and she didn’t need stitches, thankfully. She has some swelling that will go down in a few days, and she’ll probably have a mild headache that can be treated with over-the-counter pain relief.”
I clear my throat loudly. I’m absolutely not a fan of being spoken about as though I’m not sitting right here.
“Can I leave now, Rob? I just want to get home.” He nods, and I hop out of bed, grabbing my handbag and coat from the chair beside it.
Dad holds his hand out to stop me. “Where's Hattie? Why wasn't she with you?”
Rob and I lock eyes like naughty children who know the answer to his question will make him angry, even though neither of us has done anything wrong.
“She's moved in with her boyfriend.” I point at Rob when it becomes clear Dad's not connecting the dots. “That's him.”
“You? You're Hattie’s fella?”
“I am indeed,” Rob says, his chest puffing proudly.
“Then this is all your fault.”
“Dad!”
“Excuse me?” Rob says, taking a step back. I’m sure he’s dealt with his fair share of angry family members in his time, but Dad's reaction is completely out of line. I step between them, but Dad ignores me, yelling over my shoulder.
“Hattie moved in with you, yes? Now my daughter’s all alone. This would never have happened if she had her friend with her.”
I burst out laughing, the sound stabbing through my aching skull. “You’re being ridiculous. Hattie’s not my bodyguard, and her moving out has nothing to do with this. Stop overreacting, I’m fine.”
Dad takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Right, OK.”
“Apologise to Rob.”
“Sorry, Rob,” Dad says. “That was out of line.”
“I understand, Sir. She’s your pride and joy.” Rob drapes his arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “We’re big fans, too.”
“Yeah, she is,” Dad says, cupping my face with his palm. “You’re really OK?”
“Yes, I am. Can you take me home, please?”
“She’s not showing any signs of concussion,” Rob interrupts, “but I’d recommend she doesn’t drive for 48 hours, and someone should stay with her at all times. If she vomits, or if she can’t stay awake, then she needs to come back here right away. I can call Hattie to come and be with her?”
“Absolutely not,” Dad says. “She's coming with me.”
“Please don't tell Hattie,” I say to Rob. The last thing I want is her worrying about me and ruining the calming effects of her massage. The woman is tightly wound enough already.
Rob scoffs at me. “I know you didn't just ask me to keep secrets from the love of my life.”
“What about patient confidentiality?” I say, staring him down until he sighs and concedes. “Gotcha. I'll tell her myself. Dad, can you drive me home?”
“You can't be alone, Megs.” Rob shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. “I say that as your doctor and your friend.”
Dad stands next to him, mirroring his stance. “I don’t want you back there until I’ve checked out the building and made sure it's safe. You’ll come home for the weekend.”
“But…”
“No buts. You’re coming.”
Despite my protests, Dad keeps one arm around my back as he escorts me outside and to the far end of the busy hospital car park. I’m looking around for his car, when he steers me toward a sketchy looking dark-grey transit van.
I’ve never seen it before, and it’s a pile of junk compared to Dad’s usual work van. I’m beginning to think he’s brought me to the wrong place when I spot someone in the driver’s seat. A young guy with his knees up and arms wrapped around himself, rubbing them up and down his biceps.
Dad opens the passenger door and motions for me to get in.
“This is Ollie, one of my guys. He drove me here.”
“Oh my gosh, have you been sitting here this whole time?” I ask. He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from underneath a beanie, and a few strands bounce when he nods. “I had no idea. You must be freezing, I'm so sorry.”
Dad gives me a shove. “In you go.”
I climb up and scoot over to the middle seat. When I offer my hand, he looks down at it, then back up at my face, and down again before giving it the briefest shake.
“I’m Megan.”
“Ollie,” he grunts, starting the engine.
Dad fusses over me, making sure the middle seatbelt is tight around me before fastening his own. A blast of cold air hits me from above as Ollie drives us out of the car park. I look up and back between the seats.
“There’s a hole in the roof.”
“We were in the middle of fitting an air vent,” Ollie says. “We came as soon as we heard.”
“I’m so sorry. This is all such a fuss over nothing.”
Ollie keeps his eyes on the road while Dad calls Mum on speakerphone.
“Val?” he says when she finally answers.
“Yes, love? I’m just in the door. Where’ve you boys gone off to?”
“Listen, don’t panic, but we’ve just picked Megan up from the hospital and we’re bringing her home for the weekend.”
“What?” she shrieks, and Ollie and I both recoil at the volume. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story. We’ll tell you all about it when I get back, and then me and Ollie are gonna go out and catch the bastard that did this to her.”
Ollie looks at me, horrified. He has no idea what’s happened, and probably doesn’t know that, despite his appearance and bravado, Dad is all talk.
“Did what to her? Is she OK?” Mum yells.
Dad inspects me from head to toe. “She looks dreadful.”
“Dad!” I grab his arm and pull the phone closer to me. “I’m fine, Mum. Honestly.”
“She needs a good meal.”
“I’ve got a casserole on the go. I’ll do more potatoes,” Mum says. “Tell her I’m making extra potatoes just the way she likes them.”
I glance sideways at the man driving the van, just in time to catch him pressing his lips together, stifling a laugh.
“I can hear you, Mum. See you soon.” I jab my index finger at Dad’s phone and end the call before he can make this situation any worse.
This is so embarrassing. I’m sure I look a mess right now in the comfy clothes I wore to the spa, with my hair all over the place and probably half caked in dried blood.
In silence, I dig my phone out of my bag to tell Hattie I won’t be home tonight, before remembering I don’t need to do that anymore.