Trying Not to Love You - Part Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

                “Shit,” Martha rushed over to the broken man. “What the hell happened?”

Sonny’s head rolled towards her, and she could just see a sliver of his left eye, the right one was closed, he tried to offer a smile, but failed, blood was dry and caked to his jaw, and there was a deep cut over his right eye that seemed to ne still bleeding. His breathing was erratic and the only sound he emitted was a low pitched groan.

                “I’m going to call an ambulance!” She reached in her pocket for her phone, but with a grimace he stopped her silently, a hand on her arm. “No? Really?” He gave a slight nod and she rolled her eyes. “Well then you’re coming into the house. Can you make it that far? I have to keep an eye on you, there’s no way I’m leaving you out here. Not like this.”

He groaned, his hands grasping for his ribs as she tried to help him to sit, she’d not even thought about standing and he was in agony.

                “Is this too much for you? Let me go get some painkillers, Aunt Lucy has some ridiculously strong ones that she had after her hip replacement...I’m waffling.” She sighed, “stay here...” She propped pillows and the duvet behind him to keep him upright, “I’ll get the meds then help you up to the house. Ok?”

She thought she saw a twitch of the lips that may have indicated a smile, but then she wasn’t presuming anything. And her rush down the stairs and through the coach house into the feed room then the utility room and kitchen took longer than it ever had.

All she could think about was the distorted damaged face, the bruises, the wounds. She’d been horrible to him, brushed him off with disgust, then there’d been that scene that morning. What had happened since then? Had he gone to avenge Oldbury? This was something he was more than capable, he’d been furious when he’d seen her bruises, she’d begged him not to, but would that mean anything.

In the kitchen cupboard she found the packet, along with some over the counter drugs. Then she grabbed a small bottle of water from the fridge and ran the repeat journey as quickly as she could. Admittedly Sonny didn’t look as bad as he had when she first walked in, or was it just that she knew what to expect when she walked into the room a second time?

She handed him two of the stronger meds and several compatible pills from the other packets, then offered him the water to wash them down. He had difficulty opening his jaw and she wondered how many bones were broken and whether she should call the doctor...or an ambulance.

                “I’m ok.” He hissed through lips caked in dry blood.

She stared at him for a moment a knowing look on his face and he tried to smile, “I’ll help you to the house, whatever you think of me I’m keeping an eye on you.” Instead of protesting, he placed an arm around her shoulder and allowed her to help him to the stairs.

It was stop-start, he grimaced in pain constantly, even cried out on occasion, an arm constantly hugging his ribs, his feet slow to follow, but to see the warm house, then the comfy looking bed that she managed to lead him to, made it all worthwhile. Sonny slumped down to the mattress, then groaned as Martha started on his shoes. He couldn’t have her undress him, he was far too proud for that, but as he tried to lean forward with the intention of swiping her fingers away, the room started to sway and he lulled back against the pillows.

                “Will you just let me help?”

He wanted to protest, but he was too tired, everything hurt.

Martha’s fingers were nimble as she divested him of his jeans, and if he hadn’t been in an almost comatose state he told himself he’d have enjoyed it a lot more, instead he had no choice but to lie there and let her do what she had to.

In just his boxers, he swung his legs up and appreciated fully the comfort of the mattress. And he felt his eyes flutter closed almost immediately.

                “What happened?” Martha had found some antiseptic and some wipes and had every intention of cleaning his wounds, but he’d hissed the second the liquid had connected with his damaged skin and it was then she realised how raw things were. He had a few cuts, but none were too deep, in the farmyard first aid kit she had some steristrips, so she was able to close the wounds and promote healing, but she couldn’t help the graze along his right forearm, or the bruises to his knuckles, or the horrendous bruising to his chest. When she was satisfied she’d done as good a job as she could, she looked at him again.

                “Not willing to tell me?”

He shook his head, “business.” His voice was a little stronger now that he’d taken a few small drinks from the bottle of water.

                “Business?” She huffed, “that’s all you can say? You’re here looking like you’ve been smashed up with a hammer.”

He groaned and closed what little of his eyes remained open and she laughed, “closer to the truth than I imagine?”He tilted his head away from her and let out a sigh, “Carter what the hell are you caught up in? Was this Scott?”

When he didn’t answer but rolled his head away from her, she knew that wasn’t a denial, she moved to the door, “you tired?” He nodded. “I’m going to call the doctor, I’d rather him check you out...” as he made to protest she laughed, “not in a position to complain. I’ll bring you some soup later, you need to eat.”

Half an hour she looked in on him and he was snoring in the half light that the evening cast over the room. He seemed as comfortable as he could be considering. The doctor had asked her to check out his breathing rate, lucidness and general demeanour, he imagined that if he had any major internal bleeding that he’d have succumbed to it by now, but he was concerned with her reports of rib pain. He was planning to visit later, but she wasn’t sure when, in the mean time she was to keep him under close observation.

His forehead was still bleeding and threatening to leak on to her pillow, so she moved across to mop at it gently. Whilst he stirred he didn’t wake. She’d put him in her bed because she didn’t feel right letting him sleep in her father’s bed, and also it was at the back of the house, away from Aunt Lucy who slept in the room above the front door, that was important. She hadn’t told the older woman yet that he was staying. Not a confrontation she was looking forward to.

Sonny heard voices outside the room, then a chink of light cut through the room making him flinch, his eyes unaccustomed.

                “This is Doctor Smith. I’ll leave you two.”

Martha turned on a side lamp and smiled at him. Sonny wanted to smile back, but everything hurt.

The doctor was a wily character, he asked a few leading questions, and Sonny was relieved that the man didn’t want to know the details of what had happened.

                “I’d be happier if you had some x-rays. But I’m convinced you’re not about to bleed to death. I’ll write you up some meds, but promise me that if the pain isn’t settling you’ll come see me, get things looked at?”

As he made to protest the door opened and Martha replied, “I’ll bring him to you at the first sign Doctor.”

The doctor laughed as Sonny groaned, “I can see you’re in good hands!”

When she led the doctor away, he looked around the room for the first time, if there was any doubt as to whose room he was in, the floral wallpaper and Take That stickers that covered the wardrobes told him it was hers. Why had she put him there? She could have put him on the sofa; she didn’t have to give up her sanctuary for him. But even though he’d only known her a couple of months, already he knew that it was her nature, to care for people. After all she was back here to look after her father, that was a sacrifice in itself.

With a groan of pain he tried to reposition himself, wanting to stretch his limbs, but it was too painful. Turning his head to the side he sighed, then inhaled, the pillow smelled wonderful, fresh, a scent he couldn’t place. But whatever it was, it filled his nostrils and he almost instantly drifted off to sleep.

She’d checked on him every hour or two through the night, so when the hospital called at seven the next morning, she was shattered. They were planning her father’s discharge, there were a barrage of people who wanted to come out, check out the house, make sure that everything was suitable for him. Carl Mansell was a proud man, and the thought of converting one of the downstairs lounges to a bedroom for him was almost killing him, but it was a prerequisite of him coming home. Most visits involved her reassuring him that things would work out. This call was the closest they’d got to a final date.

                “So a week today? That’s brilliant. Does he know?”

The nurse confirmed that not only did he know, but he also was making his demands. She promised to call in as soon as visiting started. She also had to tell them about the lodger.

Hanging up she jogged upstairs, Aunt Lucy was in the bathroom, relieved she wouldn’t be witness, Martha tapped the bedroom door then slipped inside. Sonny was lying on his side his eyes had been red the previous night, but now they were purple, puffed and barely open, his jaw was distorted by swelling, and as bruised as his eyes.

                “You look a mess.”

He laughed, but it was a strangled sound, “thanks.”

                “You want some food? You must be starving. I’ve got soup downstairs; I figured it’d be easy to eat.”

Sonny was starving; she was right about that, “sounds amazing.” She’d given him painkillers in the early hours, but he knew they were starting to lose their effectiveness. “Have you got any more pills?”

She reached for the bedside table, “I left them there for you.”

He laughed again, “I can’t open them.”

She hadn’t noticed his hands, and she reached for one of them, noticing his bruised knuckles. “What the hell happened?”

                “I told you, business.”

He was struggling to move in bed, so she reached out to help him, hating the groan of pain that accompanied even the slightest adjustment. Once he was a bit more comfortable she opened the bottle of pills, “I’ll pick your prescription up later, hopefully they’re stronger, make it a bit less painful.”

She moved to the door, “I’ll get you some soup, Aunt Lucy’s in the bathroom a moment...but when she’s out I’ll give you a hand if you like.”

He giggled, “think I can manage that!”

                “I meant help you to the door, that’s all,” she snapped, blushing at her faux pas.

His laughter lasted after she’d closed the door behind her.

                “Soup? For breakfast?”

Aunt Lucy stood at the kitchen door watching Martha filling a bowl.

                “Your porridge is cooking and I’ve just made a pot of tea, ok?”

Her aunt shook her head, “and the soup?”

Martha sighed, “I’ve got someone upstairs...Sonny, he’s been beaten up.”

Aunt Lucy turned puce, “what? Him? Here? Fighting?” She was floundering to find a coherent sentence.

Groaning Martha lifted the tray, “he’s in a bad way, I let him sleep in my bed as he needs someone keeping an eye on him. I slept in Dad’s bed,” she offered as her aunt looked ready to explode. “I know you don’t like him, but he needs someone, and he’s got no one but us. OK?”

                “He hasn’t got me!” She snapped marching to her chair.

Martha was still smiling when she helped Sonny across the landing to the bathroom.

The restaurant was busy that evening, a birthday party for thirty was two thirds of the capacity, and for a Monday that was a full house. There were a few deliveries due in the morning, and the chef arrived for the lunchtime preparation when she was about to leave for the hospital.

Her father was walking across the reception of the rehabilitation unit when Martha walked in, she almost cried with pleasure at seeing him so strong, so proud.

                “Dad!” She gave him a huge hug. “You look amazing.”

He laughed, “I feel great, just knowing that I’m coming home. That’s all I’ve been waiting for.”

She walked with him back towards his bed, and smiled that he was already packing.

                “It’s going to be the longest week of your life.” When he smiled she added, “So what’s new?”

Martha lowered herself into a chair and watched him climb onto his bed.

                “No real news, other than there’s a big party at the restaurant tonight, thirty people, do you know Maureen Parker?”

He shrugged, “not a familiar name. Is it all covered?”

                “Of course, I’ll tell you also before Lucy comes here moaning, I’ve put Sonny up in the house. He got beaten up, real bad.”

Her father leaned forward, concern etched on his face, “beaten up?”

                “Found him bloodied and bruised. He’s been asleep since I brought him in last night.”

                “That boy, he needs help. Damn. Who was it? Was it to do with the farm?”

Martha raised an eyebrow, “what are you talking about Dad?” Since her encounter with Scott she was increasingly suspicious of what was going on.

Shaking his head he gave a smile, “nothing.”

She dropped her eyes, they were in cahoots and neither was about to reveal anything. She’d have to work this out without their knowledge, somehow, and she had a feeling that the trail started and ended with Scott.

Sonny was still asleep when she got back. But he looked a little better, and she was placing his prescription next to the bed when his eyes peeped open.

                “Hi.” His voice was hoarse from sleep.

She smiled, “you ok?”

He attempted a shrug but even that hurt, “everything is painful. But I’ll survive.”

                “You want something to eat?”

He touched his jaw, unsure whether it was the fingers, the jaw or both that hurt, “not sure I can manage much.”

                “Porridge? Mashed potato? Or there’s more tomato soup there.”

He laughed, “pureed food, don’t tell your father, that was his complaint about hospital food.”

Martha laughed, until her father’s swallow control improved after his stroke all his food had been pureed, all his fluids thickened to eliminate the chance of his choking, and he’d hated it.

                “Well you will get yourself into this mess.”

As she walked out of the room, Sonny called her back, “Martha...” when she turned around a smile on her face he sighed, “thanks...you didn’t have to do this.”

Her eyes glittered, “like I was going to leave you unconscious on your bed. I’ll go and get you some things later if you like...I’ve washed your jeans, but your t-shirt looks worse for wear.”

He watched the closed door for a moment, and sighed, she really was some sort of angel, annoying, but angelic none the less.

The following day Martha was making coffee after meeting Eamonn for the morning checks. There was no damage, thankfully, nothing since Portia, though she was being extra vigilant. Bacon sandwich, that was what she really fancied, and the aroma must have spread though the house like Bisto as within moments the kitchen door opened and she looked up to see Sonny stood there, in just his boxers.

                “Did you say you washed my clothes?

He’d cleaned the blood from his face, and the swelling had started to ease. Though it still looked painful, and for a moment the sight of him kept her eyes from wandering down to his body. And when her eyes did lower she sighed, a huge bruise still covered half his chest, extending down to his abdomen, she couldn’t begin to imagine how sore that was.

Shaking her head she smiled, “in the utility room, they should be dry. Want a bacon butty?”

He nodded, “that sounds amazing!” Then disappeared through the adjoining door.

Sonny soon located his clothes, black t-shirt and jeans, draped over a clothes-airer amongst other items that were hanging in the warm utility room to dry. He gulped awkwardly at the black bra decorated with cerise pink flamingos, and the overly provocative lacy knickers on the next rung to his t-shirt. That conjured up a rather evocative image. Closing his eyes for a moment he took several deep breaths, then slipped his clothes on. A little armour was exactly what was needed, though getting his jeans on was far more painful than he anticipated.