‘It was the weirdest thing,’ I said. ‘Your Dad and I were out for a walk, and we stopped off for a drink. He had a couple of pints of Guinness. On the way home he started getting argumentative; by the time we got there he was raving, effing and blinding and everything. Elanore thought he was pished, of course; so did I, until I had a look at his eyes.
‘I tell you, my love. I’ve never been more pleased that my father made Ellie and me learn first aid.’
Prim nodded, emphatically. ‘Me too.’
I couldn’t hold back a grin. ‘I’ll tell you something else too. For the rest of his life, your Old Man’s going to be called Dave, like he wants. Oh, Christ, but he was funny. “That’s fucking Dave to you”, he shouts at Elanore. Oh, but you should have seen her face!’
I couldn’t help it; inappropriate or not, I was seized with sudden laughter, so hard that I hugged myself in a vain attempt to contain it, until there was nothing for it but to sit down on one of the hard chairs which lined the ward corridor and wait for it to subside. It was infectious; when Elanore appeared, back from the ladies’, the first thing she saw was the two of us, convulsed with laughter.
‘Sorry Mum,’ Prim gasped. ‘Oz was just telling me what happened to poor Dave.’ She corpsed again.
Even her mother smiled, faintly. ‘It was astonishing,’ she said. ‘I have never heard words like those from your father’s mouth.’
‘How much did he have to drink?’ Prim asked me, her self-control regained.
‘Two pints of Guinness.’
‘He wasn’t drunk then.’
‘How do you know?’ Elanore asked her.
‘I’ve been chumming Dad to the pub for years,’ she replied. ‘So has Dawn. When we were single, every time either of us came home, he always asked us to go for a walk with him, and it was always the same performance. Up the Main Street and into the pub on the way back. The way he can shift Guinness, you’d think it was about to be made illegal. If he was raving after two pints, he’s ill.’
Her mother stared at her, astonished. ‘The secret life of David Phillips,’ she gasped. ‘Sorry, Dave.’
‘What did Dr Cusman say?’ Prim asked, serious once more.
‘He wasn’t sure,’ I said, ‘but he couldn’t rule out some sort of cerebral attack, so he whistled up the ambulance pronto. The admitting doctor here ruled that out right away, but like I said she hasn’t committed herself to a diagnosis yet. All she said was that he was going to be all right.’
‘I wish she’d hurry,’ Elanore exclaimed. She had been tearful as we followed the ambulance to Perth Royal Infirmary, but she had calmed down once the doctor had assured her that David was not having a stroke. Still, the waiting was getting to her.
‘It’s better that they do it right than that they do it quickly, Mum. This is Sister Phillips talking to you now.’ There are times when I forget that Prim is a nurse by profession. ‘Oz, describe the symptoms again,’ she said.
‘It started with a coughing fit.’ I told her. ‘Then he got aggressive; not physically, but loud and hectoring. He started swearing like a trooper too. By the time we got him into the house he was more or less delirious. Then he started choking, and asking for water. That was when I looked at his eyes and saw that the pupils were dilated. And that was when your Mum called Dr Cusman.’
She frowned. ‘Mmm.’
‘Does that tell you something?’
‘Doesn’t it suggest anything to you, with your first aid training?’
‘Cerebral shock, that’s all. Have you got any other ideas?’
‘Yes, but I don’t want to second-guess the doctors. Let’s just wait. Where’s the coffee machine? I’m gasping.’
We spent another twenty minutes in the stuffy corridor before the admitting doctor reappeared. She hadn’t given her name before, but I saw from a plastic tag pinned to her uniform that she was Dr Shula Sharma. Instead of launching into a bulletin on David’s condition, she asked us to follow her. We all thought that she was taking us to see him, so we were surprised when she showed us into a small glass-walled cubicle, where a man waited.
‘Mrs Phillips?’ he began, addressing Elanore. ‘My name is Drew Law; I’m the consultant in charge of this unit.’
‘What’s wrong?’ said Elanore, clutching her blouse in a gesture of sudden fear. ‘What’s wrong with my husband?’
‘Your husband is fine, Mrs Phillips. He’s recovering well. It’s what brought him here that I need to discuss with you.’
There was something about the man’s tone that I didn’t like; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but somehow he seemed just a touch menacing. I don’t like doctors who think they can bully people. ‘The ambulance was fine,’ I said, ‘and the crew were very professional. Now come to the point, please.’
‘Okay,’ he replied, not backing down at all. ‘We’ve treated Mr Phillips for poisoning; we’ve pumped his stomach and flushed his system out generally. I’m waiting for a lab analysis to confirm the substance involved, but I’m pretty certain that it’s atropine. If that’s the case I’m going to report this incident to the police.
‘The patient isn’t coherent yet, so maybe you can tell me how he came to consume it? I didn’t find any traces of deadly nightshade in the stomach contents, by the way, so we can rule out the possibility that he’s been chewing the plants at the foot of the garden. That’s the only means I can think of by which one could ingest that chemical by accident.’
‘David and I had a drink,’ I told him, ‘just before he was taken ill. All that I can suppose is that it was contaminated.’
‘What about food?’
‘We all ate the same lunch.’
‘That doesn’t rule out the possibility that Mr Phillips’ portion might have been spiked.’
The colour left Elanore’s face. ‘There is no such possibility,’ Prim snapped at the man. ‘This conversation is over. Where is my father? We insist on seeing him, now.’
‘Yes indeed,’ I added, taking out my cellphone. ‘By the way, you needn’t bother reporting this to the police. I intend to do that myself, right now.’
Chapter 35
‘Are you going to give me any argument about it now?’ I asked her. ‘Maybe you’re right; maybe I’m paranoid. But that doesn’t mean that they ain’t out to get me.’
Prim shook her head. ‘No,’ she acknowledged. ‘I give in. It is crazy, but you’ve got a stalker all right, Oz. Someone either knows your movements or is following you around; someone with a very sick mind too, to be targeting your friends and family.’
‘But not me,’ I pointed out. ‘Not me. Why?’
‘What about the London incident? That was aimed at you.’
‘The London incident doesn’t fit the pattern. That was a direct attack on me, with nothing subtle about it. Those guys were paid to ambush me and kick my fucking head in.’
I looked at her, as she sat there, slumped in her Dad’s armchair, back at Semple House It was almost midnight; Elanore was upstairs, having been given a very large brandy as a sedative, after finally cracking up completely at David’s bedside. By the time they finally let us see him, he was much calmer, but he was still dazed and confused, still rambling incoherent nonsense.
‘How’s it going, Dave?’ I had said as I sat beside him. He had gazed back at me solemnly, and replied, ‘Rosebud,’ pronouncing the word with great care, so gravely that I wouldn’t have been surprised if a snow-scene had fallen from his limp fingers.
As I had promised the aggressive consultant, I had indeed called the police. Two detective constables had come to the infirmary and had taken a statement from me. They had tried to interview Dave too.
‘Can you tell us what happened, Mr Phillips?’ the older DC had asked.