Chapter seventy-four

Jake makes a dramatic entrance through the door of the Accident & Emergency Department and everyone turns to look at him. My ex-boyfriend must have driven here at warp speed, because it’s not much more than an hour since I phoned him. He scans the waiting room and his face turns white when he sees me sitting amid several other bleeding people. He strides over to me, his face a mass of anxiety.

‘What did they do to you?’ he says.

‘They mugged me,’ I reply quietly, sipping my third cup of putrid machine tea since arriving at the Royal London Hospital. My shock, anger and fear have been replaced with a horrible sickness and disappointment in my fellow human beings. I can’t remember when I’ve ever felt so low in my entire life. Putting my tea down, I stand up. ‘Thanks for coming.’

Jake looks stricken. He goes to hug me, but I put my hand up to stop him. I’m not sure that I can cope with physical contact—I might just break down again. His hands, as well as mine, are shaking.

‘I got kicked in the stomach,’ I say. ‘Don’t touch me.’

I was ‘lucky’. It’s a quiet night in A&E and I’ve already seen the doctor, albeit a junior one, who didn’t look much older than my muggers. Nothing is broken, apparently, but a lot of me is bruised. The taxi driver who came to my rescue was so kind that it made me cry even more and he very nearly managed to restore my shattered faith in humanity.

‘Are you okay to leave now?’ Jake says.

‘Yes.’ All I want is to get home and slip into a nice, hot bath.

‘The car’s outside.’ Jake carefully takes my arm and, like the walking wounded, I limp gratefully after him.

We drive home in silence with me drifting in and out of sleep and it reminds me of our journey back from the airport, except I have a more valid reason now. My hand is vibrating with pain, but the tablets I’ve been given are taking the edge off everything else. I hug my arms around my body in the passenger seat, tenderly massaging my shoulders, and curse myself for my misfortune, wondering what I could have done to prevent this sorry incident.

Jake pulls up outside the house and then leads me inside. ‘I’ll make some tea,’ he says.

I’ve had enough tea to float a ship. ‘Thanks.’

‘Have you eaten?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m not hungry.’ My stomach still feels tender and nauseous, but I think it’s just shock rather than any permanent damage. ‘I’m going to get straight into the bath.’

‘Good idea,’ Jake says.