Read Online A Lovely Way to Burn by Louise Welsh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louise Welsh
Tags: Fiction
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smile and she saw that he was handsome. ‘I’m John Ahumibe. I was a friend of Simon’s. Whatever this package is, if it’s hospital property then it must be returned. I can make sure that it finds the right home.’
Stevie drew the bag closer to her.
‘That’s kind of you, but Simon was insistent that it went to Mr Reah personally.’
Dr Ahumibe’s voice was patient. ‘Sadly that is no longer possible.’
‘Then I’ll pass it to his executor. She can decide what to do next.’
Dr Ahumibe gave a swift look down the ward.
‘Come with me.’ He touched Stevie’s elbow and led her into a small office off the main ward, shutting the door. The room was clean and white, but it appeared that whoever occupied it had been suddenly called away; papers were splayed across the desk, a half-drunk cup of coffee abandoned beside them.
Stevie asked, ‘Was this Mr Reah’s office?’
‘Mr Reah generally wrote up his notes in here, but the room wasn’t for his exclusive use. We’re pushed for space, like everywhere else in the hospital.’ He gave a rueful, upside-down smile. ‘Everywhere else in the city.’
‘What did he die of?’
Dr Ahumibe put his hands in the pockets of his white coat and leant against the desk, staring down at his shoes.
‘I don’t know.’ He raised his head and looked at Stevie. ‘Nobody knows, but people are dying from it. Hospitals might not be the healthiest places to be right now.’
‘Are they ever?’ She meant it as a joke, but her voice broke on the final word. ‘Sorry.’ Stevie massaged her temples with her fingertips, wishing she could stop apologising. ‘It’s been a long day.’ She thought of Joanie in intensive care, remembered the man falling from the Underground escalator and the old lady saying, ‘He’s got the sickness.’ She asked, ‘How serious is it?’
‘No one’s sure yet.’ Dr Ahumibe pulled out a chair from beneath the desk. ‘Sit down.’ She sat and he squatted level with her, scrutinising her face. ‘You’re pale. Do you feel feverish?’
‘I’m fine.’ No one had stood so close to her for days. Not since Joanie had greeted her with a kiss before they last went on air. ‘I saw an accident on the way here and I’m a bit hospital-phobic, that’s all.’ The doctor smelt like Simon, Stevie realised, the same scent of soap and long hospital hours. ‘Plus I’ve been indoors for the last few days. I came down with something after I found Simon. It laid me out. I think I’m still recovering.’
She pulled away from him and Dr Ahumibe sank into another chair, his feet planted wide apart, body hunched forwards, his brown eyes still fixed on hers. His hair was black and neatly shorn, showing the shape of his skull, the swell of the back of his head.
‘You found him?’
‘Yes.’
She thought he was going to ask her about it, but he said, ‘It’s hard to believe.’ His skin looked muddy with tiredness.
‘I know.’ She had seen Simon’s body with her own eyes, but it seemed impossible that the flesh which had held her flesh was easing into decay. No, she reminded herself, the decay had been stalled. His body was in a freezer somewhere, awaiting a post mortem. Dr Ahumibe’s brow puckered with deliberate concentration or concern, she wasn’t sure which.
‘Tell me your symptoms.’
Stevie listed the horrors that had pursued her. The doctor nodded from time to time, as if to show she was confirming what he already knew. When she had finished he said, ‘And you feel okay now?’
‘A little weak, prone to queasiness, but basically fine.’
He nodded, his face closed and careful.
‘It’s good to meet a survivor.’
‘Surely only people who are already weak are in real danger.’ The words made her sound like a eugenicist and she added, ‘I mean old and very young people, or people who are already ill.’
‘Mr Reah was a hale-and-hearty fifty-five.’ The doctor clasped his hands together.
‘And Simon? Is that what killed
Stevie drew the bag closer to her.
‘That’s kind of you, but Simon was insistent that it went to Mr Reah personally.’
Dr Ahumibe’s voice was patient. ‘Sadly that is no longer possible.’
‘Then I’ll pass it to his executor. She can decide what to do next.’
Dr Ahumibe gave a swift look down the ward.
‘Come with me.’ He touched Stevie’s elbow and led her into a small office off the main ward, shutting the door. The room was clean and white, but it appeared that whoever occupied it had been suddenly called away; papers were splayed across the desk, a half-drunk cup of coffee abandoned beside them.
Stevie asked, ‘Was this Mr Reah’s office?’
‘Mr Reah generally wrote up his notes in here, but the room wasn’t for his exclusive use. We’re pushed for space, like everywhere else in the hospital.’ He gave a rueful, upside-down smile. ‘Everywhere else in the city.’
‘What did he die of?’
Dr Ahumibe put his hands in the pockets of his white coat and leant against the desk, staring down at his shoes.
‘I don’t know.’ He raised his head and looked at Stevie. ‘Nobody knows, but people are dying from it. Hospitals might not be the healthiest places to be right now.’
‘Are they ever?’ She meant it as a joke, but her voice broke on the final word. ‘Sorry.’ Stevie massaged her temples with her fingertips, wishing she could stop apologising. ‘It’s been a long day.’ She thought of Joanie in intensive care, remembered the man falling from the Underground escalator and the old lady saying, ‘He’s got the sickness.’ She asked, ‘How serious is it?’
‘No one’s sure yet.’ Dr Ahumibe pulled out a chair from beneath the desk. ‘Sit down.’ She sat and he squatted level with her, scrutinising her face. ‘You’re pale. Do you feel feverish?’
‘I’m fine.’ No one had stood so close to her for days. Not since Joanie had greeted her with a kiss before they last went on air. ‘I saw an accident on the way here and I’m a bit hospital-phobic, that’s all.’ The doctor smelt like Simon, Stevie realised, the same scent of soap and long hospital hours. ‘Plus I’ve been indoors for the last few days. I came down with something after I found Simon. It laid me out. I think I’m still recovering.’
She pulled away from him and Dr Ahumibe sank into another chair, his feet planted wide apart, body hunched forwards, his brown eyes still fixed on hers. His hair was black and neatly shorn, showing the shape of his skull, the swell of the back of his head.
‘You found him?’
‘Yes.’
She thought he was going to ask her about it, but he said, ‘It’s hard to believe.’ His skin looked muddy with tiredness.
‘I know.’ She had seen Simon’s body with her own eyes, but it seemed impossible that the flesh which had held her flesh was easing into decay. No, she reminded herself, the decay had been stalled. His body was in a freezer somewhere, awaiting a post mortem. Dr Ahumibe’s brow puckered with deliberate concentration or concern, she wasn’t sure which.
‘Tell me your symptoms.’
Stevie listed the horrors that had pursued her. The doctor nodded from time to time, as if to show she was confirming what he already knew. When she had finished he said, ‘And you feel okay now?’
‘A little weak, prone to queasiness, but basically fine.’
He nodded, his face closed and careful.
‘It’s good to meet a survivor.’
‘Surely only people who are already weak are in real danger.’ The words made her sound like a eugenicist and she added, ‘I mean old and very young people, or people who are already ill.’
‘Mr Reah was a hale-and-hearty fifty-five.’ The doctor clasped his hands together.
‘And Simon? Is that what killed
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