“Yes,” I said. “At least for the time being.”
She worked away for a while. “As you are a non-U.S. citizen, I will need full prepayment of this estimate before you can be treated,” she said.
“How much is it?” I asked her. She pushed a piece of paper towards me with her final figure at the bottom. “I only want my arm seen to,” I said, reading it. “I don’t want to buy the whole damn hospital.”
She wasn’t amused. “Full prepayment of this estimate will be needed before any treatment is given,” she repeated.
“What would happen if I couldn’t pay it?” I asked.
“Then you would be asked to go someplace else,” she said.
“How about if I was dying?” I said.
“You’re not dying,” she replied. But I got the impression that if I had been and couldn’t have paid, I might still be expected to go and die someplace else, preferably another hospital.
Caroline gave the woman her credit card and flinched only slightly when she saw the amount on the slip she was asked to sign. We went back and sat down in the waiting area, with an assurance that I would be called soon. I kissed her gently, and promised to repay her as soon as I got home.
“What if someone kills you first?” she whispered. “Then what would I do?” She grinned. It made me feel better.
“I’ll leave it to you in my will,” I said, grinning back. Laugh in the face of adversity, for laughter is the best medicine.
We sat for a while together. The clock on the wall crept around to six-forty.
“I hate to say it,” she said, “but I’ve got to go now or I’ll miss the performance, and then I really will get fired. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”
“They won’t keep you in here all night, will they?” she asked.
“Not without more money,” I said with a hollow laugh. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll see you later at the hotel.” She was reluctant to go. “Go on, go,” I said, “or you’ll be late.”
She waved as she went through the automatic doors. I didn’t really want her to go. I needed her here, mopping my brow and easing my pain, not caressing that damn Viola.
“Mr. Moreton,” shouted a nurse, bringing me back to my reality.
I BEAT Caroline back to the hotel room, but only by about ten minutes. As before, she was high on the applause-induced adrenaline rush, while I was high on a mix of nitrous oxide and painkillers. And I was sporting a fiberglass cast on my wrist that stretched from the palm of my hand, around the thumb, to the elbow.
An X-ray had clearly shown that I had a broken wrist, my ulna having been well and truly cracked right through, about an inch above the joint. Fortunately, it hadn’t been displaced much, and the fracture had been reduced by a doctor simply pulling on my hand until the ends of the bone had returned to their rightful positions. I hadn’t enjoyed the experience, in spite of the partial anesthetic effects of the nitrous oxide. Laughing gas it may be, but the procedure had not been a laughing matter.
The cast was designed to immobilize the joint, and the doctor had told me it would have to stay on for at least six weeks. I remembered the stories my father used to tell about his injuries when he was a jump jockey. He always claimed that he was a quick healer, and he often told of how he would start trying to remove a plaster with scissors only about a week after breaking a bone. But jump jockeys are mad, everyone knows that.
As instructed, I kept my right arm raised on a pillow throughout the night to reduce swelling under the cast. It wasn’t great for romance, but it did keep the pain to a minimum.
SATURDAY CAME and went, with me spending most of the time horizontal on the bed in Caroline’s hotel room. I watched some televised baseball, which was not very exciting, and then some motor racing that was more so.
I ordered some room-service Caesar salad, for a midafternoon, left-handed lunch, and then called Carl using the hotel phone.
“Where are you?” he said. “I’ve had three phone calls from people saying they need to contact you urgently.”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“One was your mother,” he said. “One said they were from the Inland Revenue, and the third wouldn’t say.”
“Did you get their numbers?” I asked.
“You must know your mother’s number, surely,” he said. “The others didn’t leave one. They said they would call back. Where shall I tell them you are?”
I wondered again if I could trust Carl.
“Just tell them that I’m away,” I said. “And I will be for at least another week.”
“And will you?” he asked.
“Will I what?” I said.
“Will you be away for at least another week?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Could you cope if I was?”
“I could cope even if you stayed away forever,” he said, and I wasn’t quite sure if he was expressing confidence in his own ability or contempt for mine.
“I’ll take that to mean that everything’s all right at the restaurant, then,” I said.
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll call you again on Monday,” I said.
“OK,” he said. “But where are you, exactly? You told me you were going to your mother, so how come she called for you?”
“Better if you don’t know,” I said rather theatrically, which must have added to his suspicion.
“If you say so,” he said, sounding somewhat miffed. “But don’t forget to go and see your mother-she seemed very insistent that you should.”
“OK, I will,” I said, and hung up.
My mother wasn’t at home. I knew that because the night before I left for Chicago I had told her to go stay with another cousin in Devon, and she never needed telling twice to go down there because she loved it. I also told her not to call me since I would be away. But she almost never called me anyway. It was always me who called her.
I called my mother’s cousin’s house in Torquay, again using the hotel phone. She answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Max,” she said in her usual deep voice. “I expect you want to talk to Diane.” Diane was my mother.
“Yes, please,” I said.
“Hold on a minute.” She put the phone down, and I could hear her calling for my mother.
“Hello, darling,” my mother said over the line. “I’m having a wonderful time. It’s so beautiful down here.” She had always wanted to move to Torquay but had never actually got around to it. My mother didn’t actually get around to much, really.
“Hello, Mum,” I said. “Have you been trying to call me at the restaurant?”
“No,” she said. I knew she wouldn’t have. “Should I have?”
“No, of course not,” I said. “I’m just calling to make sure you’re fine.”
“Oh yes, darling,” she said. “Everything is fine here. Janet has asked me to stay for another week.” Good old Janet, I thought. Janet was my mother’s cousin.
“Fine, Mum,” I said. “Have a nice time. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Bye, darling,” she trilled, and hung up.
I lay back on the bed and wondered who it was who had told Carl she was my mother.
I used my cell phone to call my brother. Toby and I hardly ever spoke, but it was not due to any animosity, just a result of us never having been close as children and less so as adults.
“Hello,” he said. “Long time no see.”
“Yes,” I said. “How are Sally and the children?”
“Fine, thanks,” he said. “The kids are growing up fast.” I don’t think he said it as a criticism of me for neglecting my two nephews and niece. We both knew that for some unknown reason his wife, Sally, and I didn’t really get on very well. He and I were both content with the fact that we saw each other only very occasionally, and usually at Newmarket, when he was there alone for the bloodstock sales.
“Mum’s in Torquay,” I told him.
“So I’ve heard,” he said.
“She’ll be there for another week at least,” I said.
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. I knew that he popped in to see her fairly often. He lived in my father’s old house, next to the training stables, while our mother now lived in a cottage down the road.
“Toby,” I said, “can I see you sometime this coming week?”
“Sure,” he said. “When?”
“I’m not certain,” I said. “Monday, probably. Maybe Tuesday.”
“Fine,” he said.
“Can I stay the night?” I asked him.
There was a pause before he answered. “Is everything all right?”
“My house burned down,” I said.
“Oh my God, Max,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think it was an accident,” I said.
There was another pause, longer this time. “Are you asking for my help?” he said.
“Yes I am, but it’s not financial help I need.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved. “Come when you like,” he said. “And stay as long as you want. I’ll fix it with Sally.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Can I bring someone with me?”
“A girl?” he asked. He knew me better than I imagined.
“Yes.”
“One room or two?”
“One,” I said.
“OK,” he said, amused. “Give me a call when you know when you’re coming.”
“Thanks,” I said again, and I meant it. “I will.”