‘What can I do? Do you want your drink?’
‘I need to change position.’
I put the drink down on a chest of drawers, and walked over to the bed. ‘What … what do you want me to do?’
He swallowed carefully, as if it were painful. ‘Lift and turn me, then raise the back of the bed. Here … ’ He nodded for me to come closer. ‘Put your arms under mine, link your hands behind my back and then pull back. Keep your backside on the bed and that way you shouldn’t strain your lower back.’
I couldn’t pretend this wasn’t a bit weird. I reached around him, the scent of him filling my nostrils, his skin warm against mine. I could not have been in any closer unless I had begun nibbling on his ear. The thought made me mildly hysterical, and I struggled to keep myself together.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ I took a breath, linked my hands, and adjusted my position until I felt I had him securely. He was broader than I had expected, somehow heavier. And then, on a count of three, I pulled back.
‘Jesus,’ he exclaimed, into my shoulder.
‘What?’ I nearly dropped him.
‘Your hands are bloody freezing.’
‘Yes. Well, if you bothered to get out of bed, you’d know that it’s actually snowing outside.’
I was half joking, but now I realized his skin was hot under his T-shirt – an intense heat that seemed to come from deep within him. He groaned slightly as I adjusted him against the pillow, and I tried to make my movements as slow and gentle as possible. He pointed out the remote control device that would bring his head and shoulders up. ‘Not too much, though,’ he murmured. ‘A bit dizzy.’
I turned on the bedside light, ignoring his vague protest, so that I could see his face. ‘Will – are you okay?’ I had to say it twice before he answered me.
‘Not my best day.’
‘Do you need painkillers?’
‘Yes … strong ones.’
‘Maybe some paracetamol?’
He lay back against the cool pillow with a sigh.
I gave him the beaker, watched him swallow.
‘Thank you,’ he said afterwards, and I felt suddenly uneasy.
Will never thanked me for anything.
He closed his eyes, and for a while I just stood in the doorway and watched him, his chest rising and falling under his T-shirt, his mouth slightly open. His breathing was shallow, and perhaps a little more laboured than on other days. But I had never seen him out of his chair, and I wasn’t sure whether it was something to do with the pressure of lying down.
‘Go,’ he muttered.
I left.
I read my magazine, lifting my head only to watch the snow settle thickly around the house, creeping up the window sills in powdery landscapes. Mum sent me a text message at 12.30pm, telling me that my father couldn’t get the car down the road. ‘Don’t set out for home without ringing us first,’ she instructed. I wasn’t sure what she thought she was going to do – send Dad out with a sledge and a St Bernard?
I listened to the local news on the radio, the motorway snarl-ups, train stoppages and temporary school closures that the unexpected blizzard had brought with it. I went back into Will’s room, and looked at him again. I didn’t like his colour. He was pale, high points of something bright on each cheek.
‘Will?’ I said softly.
He didn’t stir.
‘Will?’
I began to feel the faint stirrings of panic. I said his name twice more, loudly. There was no response. Finally, I leant over him. There was no obvious movement in his face, nothing I could see in his chest. His breath. I should be able to feel his breath. I put my face down close to his, trying to detect an out breath. When I couldn’t, I reached out a hand and touched his face gently.
He flinched, his eyes snapping open, just inches from my own.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, jumping back.
He blinked, glancing around the room, as if he had been somewhere far from home.
‘It’s Lou,’ I said, when I wasn’t sure if he had recognized me.
His expression was one of mild exasperation. ‘I know.’
‘Do you want some soup?’
‘No. Thank you.’ He closed his eyes.
‘More painkillers?’
There was a faint sheen of sweat on his cheekbone. I put my hand out, his duvet felt vaguely hot and sweaty. It made me nervous.
‘Is there something I should be doing? I mean, if Nathan can’t get here?’
‘No … I’m fine,’ he murmured, and closed his eyes again.
I went through the folder, trying to work out if I was missing something. I opened the medical cabinet, the boxes of rubber gloves and gauze dressings, and realized I had no idea at all what I should do with any of it. I rang the intercom to speak to Will’s father, but the ringing sound disappeared into an empty house. I could hear it echoing beyond the annexe door.
I was about to ring Mrs Traynor when the back door opened, and Nathan stepped in, wrapped in layers of bulky clothing, a woollen scarf and hat almost obscuring his head. He brought with him a whoosh of cold air and a light flurry of snow.
‘Hey,’ he said, shaking the snow off his boots and slamming the door behind him.
It felt like the house had suddenly woken from a dreamlike state.
‘Oh, thank God you’re here,’ I said. ‘He’s not well. He’s been asleep most of the morning and he’s hardly drunk anything. I didn’t know what to do.’
Nathan shrugged off his coat. ‘Had to walk all the way here. The buses have stopped running.’
I set about making him some tea, as he went to check on Will.
He reappeared before the kettle had even finished boiling. ‘He’s burning up,’ he said. ‘How long has he been like this?’
‘All morning. I did think he was hot, but he said he just wanted to sleep.’
‘Jesus. All morning? Didn’t you know he can’t regulate his own temperature?’ He pushed past me and began rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. ‘Antibiotics. The strong ones.’ He held up a jar and emptied one into the pestle and mortar, grinding it furiously.
I hovered behind him. ‘I gave him a paracetamol.’
‘Might as well have given him an Opal Fruit.’
‘I didn’t know. Nobody said. I’ve been wrapping him up.’
‘It’s in the bloody folder. Look, Will doesn’t sweat like we do. In fact he doesn’t sweat at all from the point of his injury downwards. It means if he gets a slight chill his temperature gauge goes haywire. Go find the fan. We’ll move that in there until he cools down. And a damp towel, to put around the back of his neck. We won’t be able to get him to a doctor until the snow stops. Bloody agency nurse. They should have picked this up in the morning.’