But before the policeman could touch it, Tim had already grasped the jellyfish with his right hand, digging his nails in as he tried to tug it away. The tentacles held on fast, but then they suddenly released their grip; he just missed being stung again as they waved dangerously near him.
‘Bloody hell!’
He dropped it on to the stones, standing back quickly in case it attacked his feet through the wet socks. It was a wise move. With a snort of revulsion, Jane began to stamp on it; immediately, the tentacles tried to close around her boots. She recoiled, her eyes wide with horror.
‘Oh, Tim…’ she whispered, pressing against him as she stared at the jellyfish which had seemed so still and lifeless when nothing was within its reach. ‘Oh, Tim, what can it be?’
His hand was a mass of blood which dripped on to his wet clothes, but it was still numb. The poison was so effective that he could not even raise his arm to take a real look at it.
The policeman found a boathook and hastily pushed the jellyfish back into the water. ‘Better out of the way, those things. Never did like them. Good God, look at that!’
A green slime covered the black leather fingers of his gauntlet gloves, and it was gleaming like rock-star glitter make-up. As they all stared at it, the sound of the ambulance siren was heard, coming closer.
5
Much against Tim’s will they insisted on him staying in hospital overnight in order to keep an eye on him. The treatment of his hand had been painful. The numbness in his left arm from the jellyfish’s natural anaesthetic gradually ebbed away while the nurse was still picking out those sharp needle-like hairs which the tentacles had deposited in his exposed flesh. Every touch of the tweezers hurt like hell and his whole arm throbbed violently.
‘Just have to wait an’ see now, won’t we?’ The ageing Welsh doctor shook his head doubtfully, his eyes intense beneath his white bushy eyebrows. ‘Jellyfish, you say?’
To round off the treatment, they made him drop his hospital pyjamas while they rammed an injection into his backside. It left a sore spot which troubled him whichever way he tried to lie in that narrow, clinical bed.
The room was pleasant, though. It had off-white walls, a carpet on the floor, flowered curtains and a view across the bay. By late afternoon the clouds had dispersed sufficiently to allow a weak sun to penetrate; it coated the brooding sea with silver. Gazing at it, Tim wondered how many more pink jellyfish were swimming around out there. He remembered how helpless the thug had been, simply floating, paralysed, unable to defend himself against that thing over his face. It did not take long to drown once they set to work.
Tim must have dozed off. The next thing he knew, a dark bright-eyed nurse bustled into the room with his evening meal on a tray. She announced he had a visitor, a young lady, who would be along once she’d had a word with the doctor. And would he like the curtains closed now it was almost dark outside?
‘Please,’ he said, pushing himself up in bed.
He felt lazy, and glad he didn’t have to get up. His arm still throbbed and that ache in his buttock issued a sharp reminder whenever he put too much weight on it.
‘Jellyfish, was it?’ she went on as she tugged the curtain across. ‘That other poor man — he’s in a terrible condition. People will be afraid to go swimming.’ She tutted, shaking her head. ‘Seen you on TV, you know. Always watch Gulliver when I’m not on duty, an’ sometimes when I am! That wife o’ yours, she’s awful, isn’t she? It’s a wonder you put up with it!’
‘Oh…!’ He laughed, suddenly understanding what she meant: not Sue, as he’d thought at first. ‘In the show, you mean? Gloria?’
‘That’s the one. Vicious, she is. All I can say is, she’d better not come in this hospital, or there’ll be a few of us ready to give her a piece of our mind.’
‘She’s quite nice really. The actress, that is.’
‘Is she now?’ The nurse sounded unconvinced. ‘Now you eat up, an’ I’ll bring your visitor along the moment she’s free.’
That would be Jane, he assumed, pleased. She had come with them in the ambulance; then, once they reached the hospital, he’d said she needn’t hang around if she had other things to do. He could sense she was itching to get to a phone. An ambitious girl — and ruthless too in her own way, he suspected. Before going, she’d said something about his car being still down by the harbour and he’d given her the keys, telling her she was free to use it if she wished. Which she obviously did.
He had already finished his omelette and was toying with the strawberry blancmange when the nurse returned with his visitor: not Jane after all, but Jacqui. She stood in the doorway and smiled at him awkwardly.
‘Well, that just about wraps it up, doesn’t it?’ she commented, nodding at his bandaged hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said wryly.
‘Are you all right, Tim?’
‘I shall be. Out tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps.’
The nurse closed the door quietly, leaving them alone together. Jacqui brought the chair over to sit by the bed. She had dressed up for the visit, he noted, in a brown trouser suit which she wore with a striped shirt and a greenish tie. High heels too, to give her that extra couple of inches; though she still looked small and emaciated, in need of a good meal. Her face was thin and peaked, while her alert, brown eyes contrasted strangely with her wispy blonde hair.
‘I spoke to the doctor, but he wasn’t too certain when you’d be out,’ she added. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but not unfriendly. ‘In any case, even if you could carry on, we need to replace Arthur, and that means re-shooting the lot. I’ve been on the phone to the office. They’re fixing it up for us to come back for the retakes. Well, you anyway.’
‘Not you?’
‘That’s not yet certain.’
She gave that information brusquely, as if to indicate that further questions would not be welcome. He gazed at her, wondering what the problem was. Maybe they hadn’t liked the rushes; maybe they welcomed the chance to re-shoot.
‘How is Arthur?’ he asked.
‘As well as can be expected, according to the doctor. You know he had a stroke?’
‘Yes, they told me. Probably while he was still in the water. It’s not surprising really when you think what happened. I suppose I got off lightly.’ He glanced at the bandages. ‘What about his face?’
‘They didn’t say.’ She hesitated. ‘Tim, would you — I mean, can you talk about it? All I know, it was a jellyfish. Not the details.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can’t you tell me more?’
That brusque tone again got on his nerves.
‘Why — to satisfy your curiosity?’
She flushed a deep red. ‘If you want to know,’ she replied tartly, ‘I have to write a report for the office.’
‘That explains it.’
‘I can’t ask Arthur, he’s not conscious yet. The doctor says he might never be able to talk again. After the stroke, he meant.’ She leaned forward to touch his uninjured hand. ‘Tim, I’m not being hard, you know. I really do have to produce that report. I wish I didn’t.’
‘You and I, we haven’t got on since we first met.’ Tackle the problem head-on, he thought, it was the only way; have it out now while he was lying helpless in bed. ‘I don’t understand why.’
‘I imagine you resent me taking over. All of you.’ The hostile expression returned to her eyes, that same expression to which he’d grown accustomed over the past couple of days. ‘Perhaps because I’m a woman, I don’t know.’
‘Oh, don’t be an idiot! We’ve had a woman directing this show ever since the first episode. No, it’s something else, isn’t it? You don’t think you’re up to it. You’re all nerves.’