Jemima came and sat on the chair beside my bed, wincing with pain as she lowered herself into it and breathed out a sigh of relief as she leaned back and relaxed.
“Are you all right?” I asked her, “Are you sure you should have come here?”
“Not really,” she replied, holding her abdomen and closing her eyes.
There was a pause and I didn’t press her. I wanted to give her a chance to get her breath back.
Without opening her eyes she continued.
“The doctors in Toulouse said I had concussion from the bump I received to my head and some evidence of internal abdominal bleeding along with other minor cuts and bruises.”
“Then what in God’s name are you doing here?” I hissed at her, not wanting to alert the nurses.
“I had to come.” she replied, opening her weary eyes and turning her head to face me. “No-one knew where you were. You were such a mess when you left in the helicopter, I didn’t know whether you had survived or not. For all I knew you were laying here alone, or worse, in the morgue!”
“So you discharged yourself and came to find me.”
She closed her eyes again.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“How did you get here?” I asked her.
“The train and buses.”
I stared at her in amazement, more than a little bewildered.
“I don’t understand, Jemima, how did you get the money together so quickly? Surely they hadn’t recovered any of your baggage?”
For a moment she was silent.
“Jemima, what did you do for money?” I pressed her now because I was afraid she had done something bad to get it.
“Don’t worry,” she breathed, “I didn’t steal it. It was George.”
“George?” I exclaimed, “He stole it?”
She chuckled then winced which caused her to cough and hold her stomach.
“No, he didn’t steal it.” She smiled weakly, “You know how men are. He still had his wallet in his trouser pocket He lent me some Francs that he already had exchanged at the airport.”
“Jemima, are you sure you are all right, look at you.”
“I had to come to you, Karen. Something inside kept pushing me.” She turned to me again. “No-one, and I mean no-one, has made me feel the way you did. You stood up to me and put me down without making me feel small.”
“And that was enough for you to trek all this way to find me?” I was flattered but still, there had to be more.
“Not just that, everything.” Jemima winced and lay back in the chair again. “When I slipped my hand up your skirt, I felt nothing, I just wanted to embarrass you, treat you the way men do, only I would not pass the top of your stockings as they would have.”
I was curious now.
“Go on.” I pressed her.
“When I was in the bathroom , my bracelet hooked up, and you reversed the roles you really did teach me a lesson, I realised how unpleasant I had been to you but…”
“But?” I repeated.
“I also felt incredibly aroused by your touch and I could sense that you were too. I had never been touched in that way before, especially by a woman and I was extremely confused.”
I lay back.
“Jemima…”
“No, please, let me finish. When we kissed it awoke feelings inside me that I had never experienced before. I have had sex, of course I have, more than I care to admit. I suppose I slept my way to the top but you… you were different. I wanted to hold you so much.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say at that moment. My mind was in a whirl. Everything she had just described was exactly how I had felt when I touched her leg and kissed her. I had intended to teach her a lesson but realised that I also had experienced something new.
“I am stupid, Karen!” she said suddenly. “I should not have come here, I’m sorry. You must think me a complete fool.”
She tried to stand but clutched at her stomach and flopped back into the chair. I noticed her breathing was very shallow, panting even.
“Nurse! Nurse!” I shouted as loud as I could, almost screaming and within a moment two nurses ran through the door, took one look at Jemima and went straight to her.
“’Oo, is she, Mademoiselle? What is she doing ‘ere?” the first one asked as she knelt down and took Jemima’s wrist.
“She is another survivor of the aeroplane crash. I think she is more injured than she realised.”
“I will fetch ze docteur,” the second nurse said and quickly disappeared.
I jumped from the bed and a sharp pain shot through my thigh as my feet hit the floor. I felt the stitches open but said nothing.
“I will help you get her on my bed!” I told the nurse and, together, we managed to lift Jemima up and lay her on the warm white cotton sheet.
At that moment the other nurse returned, following a young man in a white coat.
“I am Docteur Rousseau, What ‘as ‘appened?”
By this time I had lowered myself into the chair, in considerable pain and was about to explain when the nurse spoke quickly to him in French.
He nodded as he listened and began to feel Jemima’s stomach.
Suddenly she cried out in agony as he pressed his fingers into her soft flesh.
He spoke quickly again to the nurses who disappeared then returned momentarily with a trolley. Which they placed beside my bed.
I tried to stand, to help them but the doctor raised his hand.
“Non, do not move, Mademoiselle. I will send someone to you shortly!”
Together, the three of them moved Jemima across to the trolley and then pushed her quickly from my room.
I sat there, bemused, scared, worried. I had no idea what had happened to her but judging by their reaction, it wasn’t good!
It seemed an eternity that I waited, alone, not daring to move until I decided I would be better off back in bed as my thigh was throbbing quite painfully so I stood up and all but fell onto the bed.
At that moment the matron appeared at the doorway.
“Mademoiselle, What are you doing? You should not be out of bed wizout assistance!”
“You do speak English then,” I replied sarcastically.
“Of course,” was all she replied before unceremoniously lifting the hem of my nightdress and examining my dressing. A small spot of blood was beginning to appear. Bright red in stark contrast to the off white of the bandage.
She raised her eyes, pursed her lips and began to unwrap the bandage in a fast, professional manner.
“As I sought,” she exclaimed, her heavy French accent so different from that of Françoise that morning, “Some of ze stitches ‘ave torn. I will ‘ave to get ze docteur.”
She placed the thick pad back across the seeping wound.
“’old zat and press firmly until I return.” and she left as quickly as she had arrived.
I lay there for a while and although I had problems of my own, I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander to Jemima and that moment in the aeroplane bathroom. Her thigh was so soft, smooth and warm under my fingers. I closed my eyes and remembered her soft lips against mine. The feeling then was delicious. My nostrils were filled with her scent and I could almost taste her breath. I let out a small involuntary moan.
“Mmm…”
“Miss Farmer?” I jumped and immediately my face began to burn with embarrassment.
Had the doctor heard me, did I have a silly smile on my face?
“I am Doctor Harlow. The matron tells me you have need of my services.” His American accent hit me as surely as if I had been struck physically.
“Ermm, yes, my leg…” My reply was halting, the surprise had taken away all coherence.
“I, I’m sorry,” I continued, “I didn’t expect an American doctor, your accent threw me.”
“You’re not the first to say that,” he chuckled. “I am here on an exchange posting with the Red Cross for a few months.”
I smiled up at him. Two days ago I may have taken a closer interest. He was older than me by some years, very smart and handsome and, if I looked hard enough, bore a passing resemblance to Cary Grant but today, I had other things on my mind.
“Now then, young lady, what have you done that requires my urgent attention?” The smile never left his lips as I carefully lifted my hem until he could clearly see the pad with its spot of red.
He lifted my hand away and removed the dressing completely. The smile faded almost instantly.
“Oh, I see.” Was all he said.
“What do mean ‘Oh’?” I blurted out, suddenly panicking, “What’s wrong?
“I’m sorry, just my little joke.” The smile reappeared as quickly as it had vanished. “A couple of the sutures have torn away but it is not a problem. Only…”
“Only what?!” I was angry now. He had frightened me and now he was making it worse.
He obviously realised what he had done.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just that because I will have to restitch the wound it will leave a more ragged scar but I will make it as neat as I can. We will have to be very cautious for the next few days though. The last thing we need is an infection or for it to burst again.”
Suddenly I felt terribly mean at having snapped at him. He looked so apologetic.
“Oh, look, it is me who should apologise. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“Well, we can either spend the rest of the evening apologising to each other while you slowly bleed to death or…” the smile was back.
“Or?” I said.
“Or, I could repair the damage.”
“I think,” I replied slowly, “that I like the latter option better.” Now it was my turn to smile.
“Ok then.” he replied. “I will be back in a moment.” and turned away, leaving me alone once again.
This time I kept my eyes open, I didn’t want another embarrassing moment!
It wasn’t long before he was back, with a nurse in tow who was pushing a small trolley on top of which was an array of surgical instruments and bowls. On the shelf below were bottles of various fluids.
I watched him work with fascination. While he went to the small wash-hand basin in the corner of the room, the nurse picked up a bottle and poured a quantity of brownish looking liquid into a kidney shaped bowl and placed a variety of needles into it along with a scalpel. Then she poured another quantity of the liquid into another, smaller bowl.
By this time, Doctor Harlow had washed his hands and proceeded to thread a vicious looking curved needle.
I stared at it as he pushed the end of the black thread through the eye at one end.
Finally, he was ready. And the nurse picked up some wadding and soaked it in the antiseptic from the smaller dish.
As soon as she began to clean the area around the wound, it started to sting and burn. My face contorted. It was not the worse pain I had ever had but it hurt nonetheless!
Within moments, the pain was gone and the area just felt cold.
“That will help deaden the area but I am afraid it will not completely go numb. You will still feel some discomfort.” Doctor Harlow smiled and I nodded, still staring at that huge looking needle.
I am not ashamed to admit, I was scared. The only stitches I had ever experienced were the ones I had right there and I was unconscious when they were done!
“Okay then. Here we go,” he said and the nurse took my hand.
I didn’t want to watch and closed my eyes as he approached with the needle but, as is the way with most people, I had to look and opened my eyes just as the sharp tip of the surgical steal pierced my flesh.
I felt a searing pain and gripped the nurses hand tightly, breathing deeply in through clenched teeth!
I couldn’t cry out through sheer embarrassment so I just remained tensed and almost as soon as it had began, it was over and I breathed out with relief.
“There,” he said, “Not so bad was it?”
“No.” I said, with far more than a hint of sarcasm. “Not for you!” I smiled then.
He finished cleaning up and applied more antiseptic.
“Okay now?” he asked.
The whole area was hot but the worst of the pain was gone now and I nodded slowly.
“Good. The nurse will finish dressing it.” He returned to the sink and washed his hands again.
He continued to speak with his back to me.
“You must not put any weight on that leg for at least two days. The wound is very deep and it needs time to repair itself.”
Turning to face me as he wiped his hands dry, he continued:
“You must stay in bed. If you need to get up, for what ever reason, a nurse will help you. If you burst those sutures again it will be a real mess. Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeated resignedly and let out a sigh.
Doctor Harlow looked at me for a moment.
“Miss Farmer,” he said eventually, “You are young and pretty. I imagine that you want to be up and about as soon as possible but believe me, if you rush you will only make things worse.”
“I understand,” I sighed. “Doctor, could I ask a favour?”
“Shoot,” he smiled.
“Would you find out how my friend is please. I am very worried about her.”
“Sure I will. A soon as I hear anything I will let you know, Okay?”
“Thank you,” I replied, concious of the throbbing pain in my leg. It felt as though the whole of my thigh was on fire.
“Okay, Li’l Lady,” he said, looking at my notes, “It seems you have had a rough day. There will be no more visitors tonight so you can rest easy, kid.” His broad smile seemed to light up the room and I smiled too, wondering if he had intended to sound like John Wayne.
The nurse finished wrapping the bandage, this time from knee to groin, as if to prevent any movement and tied it off, placing a piece of fabric plaster over the knot to stop it coming unfastened.
Once again, I was alone and I realised how tired I was. The clock on the wall opposite said Eight pm. The day had passed so quickly and this was the first moment of peace I’d had. I closed my eyes and drifted of into an uneasy sleep.
As the night drew on, vivid images flashed through my mind. I saw the fire on the wing, the crashing, twisting metal as we hit the ground and the sounds… they were as vivid as the images.
I saw Jemima, hanging in her seatbelt, only, in my dream, I couldn’t revive her. I couldn’t revive anyone, all were dead around me. I saw the pilots, Bob and Eric, laying on the grass outside, mangled! Then I felt it, the panic and fear, gradually rising as I frantically tried to escape the carnage. Doors wouldn’t open, jammed! Suddenly I could smell burning. The fuel! It had ignited! I banged on the windows, shouting. I could bear it no longer and I screamed out.
“Help me, Please help me!” the flames began to lick around the cabin. My heart was pounding and my shouts became one long scream and then… it was gone! I was in bed once more, sweating profusely, my heart pounding like a steam hammer!
“It is all right, Karen, it is over, I am here.” The soft voice of Françoise, soothing me, calming and relaxing.
“They are all dead,” I whimpered, “All gone. All my fault.”
She took my hand in one of hers and, with the other, wiped my soaking brow.
“That is not true, Karen,” she said gently. “There were survivors and no, it was not your fault at all. You saved them.”
“Did I?” I gazed into her beautiful mature eyes, edged with slight lines as she smiled and comforted me.
“Yes, you did. You have nothing to blame yourself for. Without you, things could have been so much worse.”
I felt her soft hand stroke my face with the lightest of touches and I moved my head to press my face into her hand. I could smell her scent and her calm restful voice soothed me.
Slowly, as I lay there, my racing heartbeat slowed and I relaxed, revelling in the warmth of her soft hands.
“There now,” she said softly, “That is better, relax and lay back whilst I check your dressing.”
I closed my eyes once again and felt the sweat soaked white cotton sheet being slowly drawn down to my knees.
I was aware of the cool air around my body and didn’t move as I felt the hem of my nightdress being drawn upwards, much further than I expected. I didn’t dare move, I was so aroused suddenly, remembering that I still wore my loose legged panties.
I jumped as I felt the tips of her fingers trace a line around the top of the bandage.
“I am sorry,” she said, “Did I hurt you?”
Words were lost to me now and I just rolled my head side to side upon the pillow as she continued to caress my leg, the warmth from her palm as she stroked the outside of my thigh, just below my hip and her thumb tracing a line around my prominent pelvic bone.
“Your dressing is fine, Karen.” Françoise’ soft voice drifted through my mind. “I think now it is time that I clean you.”
“Clean me?” I queried.
“Oh yes, You cannot go to the bathroom by yourself so I must wash you here, in your bed. We don’t want any more damage, do we?”
To be continued…
