Another day slowly passed, “So, how ye feelin" this mornin", Mr. Cameron?” the doctor said as
she opened the curtains and stepped inside his little cubical. “It"s a fine day to spend at home; I
wish I was so lucky.” She smiled as she took his pulse, her eyes flicking back and forth
between her pressing fingers and her small nurses watch.
“I"m feeling a lot better and am able to move both legs with ease.” He returned the smile.
“An" the headaches?” she prompted whilst moving her inspection to his eyes.
“Gone,” was all he said. Just as well, since the doors burst open allowing Mary to walk in
with his coat and some presents and cards, “Ah, it looks like my ride has arrived.” He nodded
towards the door and beamed at Mary as she approached his bedside.
“Hey Babe, how you feeling?” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, before turning
to the doctor, “is he free to go?”
“I can clear him for discharge, but he must rest at least until the end o" the week.” She
turned to Michael, “ye take it easy now, and come and see me next week.” She smiled again
and left the cubical.
“What"s all this?” Michael asked as he moved his legs from the bed, thankfully, the nurse had
untucked the sheet from beneath the mattress, so getting out of bed was relatively easy.
“One of the prefects of Wallace House stopped me when I arrived and gave them to me for
you; they are from everyone in Wallace house. Ain"t that sweet?” She smiled again.
“Yeah, they are great kids.” Most of them, he thought.
***
Michael could not remember the last time he felt so tired from walking, he was exhausted and
he had only walked from the hospital wing down one flight of stairs. A thought went to his
classes that day and wondered if they had managed to get supply to cover at such short notice
and if work had been set. Perhaps I should go and check, but then again, he knew Mary would
have something to say about that and his presence may start some children crying, thereby
disrupting their learning. No, I’ll stay with Mary.
“Mr. Cameron, sir, ye"r up, that is great, when are ye going to be teachin" us again?” A
young voice from behind called, enticing both Mary and Michael to turn and see who it was.
Michael smiled.
“George, it"s you, not being a nuisance today are you for your supply?”
“Me?” He pretended to be innocent before turning and running off in the opposite direction.
Mary began to guide Michael back the way they were going, but Michael froze, his stance was
firm. She pulled again, but to no avail. Michael was not going to budge, despite his weakened
state; his strength was considerably more than Mary"s. Defeated, she turned to look where he
was looking.
“What"s the matter?” Michael could sense worry in her voice.
“That boy, there, that boy he was…” He broke off as the boy came closer. Michael grabbed
Mary"s arm tighter and whispered, “That"s him.”
“What about him?” she asked.
“That small boy was the one who was killed in the downstairs chamber.”
“Not that again! Doctor Scrivvens mentioned you had been hallucinating.” Michael stood
firm as Mary tried to move him again.
“I am not hallucinating, he really was there, but I saw him get stabbed, blood oozed out of
him and he lay there on the cold stone slab.” The memory pained him, but he had to make
Mary, of all people, believe him.
“Well, clearly he"s not dead, which surely should tell you something is wrong with your tale.”
She gently nudged him round. She is right, how could he be dead if he was still there. Perhaps
I was only hallucinating.
For the first time since awakening in the hospital wing, Michael was confused. “Come on,
Sweetheart; let"s get you home, where you can get away from all this.”
They resumed their walk, but a voice called from behind, “I hope ye feel better soon, Sir.”
Michael instantly recognised it. “Don"t worry, Sir, I"ll make sure all the work is covered, just as
ye like.”
Without turning, Michael knew exactly what was happening, he"s standing there mocking me
and no one knows about it, or rather no one believes me about it. He chose to keep moving;
the last thing he wanted was to see the gloating face of his attacker.
