Music Man Pt. 06

Chapter Forty

Ged had felt much better since he involved himself with Viv's group, though his aimlessness and apathy would often return once he was home and alone.

Now he was out in public once more, he was often hit on by young women, and some of these were very pretty, but he steadfastly refused all advances politely, however much their lustful interest cheered him up and provoked a genital reaction.

His immunity to such approaches was of long standing and well known, and he suspected that some of the women wanted to see if they could entice the unenticable, and attain the unattainable.

It was after one of their practices in the week of the Friday gig that Viv approached Ged quietly away from the rest of the group to tell him that a friend of hers had seen Cassie with a very handsome man at the opera, and that they seemed very close. It arrested him. Until then he had not really believed she would find someone else, and certainly not so soon.

Then on Thursday, Cheryl rang him.

"Ged, there's something I think you need to know." she opened.

"Cassie's been seen with a man," Ged answered.

"Has she?" Cheryl said with some surprise. "I mean I knew she was seeing someone, that's why I'm ringing. So, someone's seen them together."

"So, if that's all?"

"No, Ged," she said decisively. "You should know that she's really taken with this man. We tried to slow her down, but you know from your own experience how quickly she falls for a man she likes - someone gentle, sensitive, caring - like you, you know?"

"So did you?"

"Did we what?"

"Slow her down."

"Don't know." Cheryl paused. "But we were pretty heavy with her, reminding her that being so quick hasn't exactly done her any favours, so perhaps she's thinking about it."

"I don't see what it has to do with me," Ged said doggedly.

"Well, she won't tell you, and if she settles for this Harry, you'll be free to find someone else yourself, but you need to know if that happens."

"Thanks Cheryl," he said as warmly as he could manage. "You're very good to me."

"That's what friends are for. You've had a raw deal from everyone, including me. The least I can do."

The news sharpened his feelings of loss and rejection, and as a result his performance on Friday evening was acutely moving for the audience and for the group.

After the set the group gathered round to congratulate him, and he began to feel better. He recognised his performances were cathartic for him and the group enthused over his performance, so he was cheerful and happy as he left the club, his guitar slung over his shoulder and carrying the keyboard case in the other hand.

It happened quickly. It happened too quickly for Ged to react, and by the time he could have reacted, he was in no condition to do so.

The club's entrance was in a side street, about a hundred metres from a main thoroughfare. As Ged reached the main road, his arms were pinioned behind him from behind, his instruments hit the ground, a face came into view, behind a mask of some actor or comedian he didn't know.

The face head-butted him hard, and he would have fallen back if he had not been supported by the man behind pushing his arms together behind his back, pushing him towards the face, who kicked him in his genitals. Again Ged would have crumpled forward but he was held as he was punched viciously in the stomach this time. He was winded, and the man behind let go so that he fell to the ground.

He hit his head on the pavement, and partially lost consciousness. He was foggily aware of pain, sharp jabs as the assailants kicked and stamped, and a severe ache all over. Suddenly the jabs of pain stopped, and in his dazed state he realised his hands hurt like hell. He felt people around him, and being lifted onto a stretcher, then everything went black.

--

Cassie burst through the doors of the Accident and Emergency entrance to the hospital and stopped short, searching all round until she saw the group, sitting together on the second row of seats in the waiting area, which was full of people waiting to be seen.

She expected a rebuff, but instead there was a look of relieved recognition on Viv's face.

"Thank God!" Viv said. "I couldn't reach you. I suppose Cheryl-"

"How is he?" Cassie broke in. "Is he going to be OK?"

"They won't tell us anything, but the receptionist was asking for you."

"For me?" Cassie said, puzzled. "Why me?"

"Go and ask her," said Viv, pointing to the reception office.

So she did.

"I think you were looking for me," she said to the middle aged woman behind the glass. "I've just arrived, I'm Cassie Copthorne."

"No dear," said the woman with a friendly smile. "We're looking for a Cassandra Fenton."

"That's my maiden name," Cassie clarified, "before I married."

The woman smiled at her response, "Oh, that's fine. You are Gerald Smith's next of kin?"

"Am I?" Cassie asked, perplexed. "I didn't know."

"Well, it's on the donor card in his wallet."

"We used to be engaged."

"Well, do you want to take responsibility for him as next of kin? He's being treated provisionally, but because he's unconscious, we need his next of kin to authorise more serious operations. Will you do that?"

"Unconscious?" she cried, "Is he-"

"I'll get someone to come and talk with you. Are you with that group of people over there?"

"Yes, they're friends. He's a musician; he plays with them."

"If you'll go over there and wait, I'll get someone to come and see you."

Cassie made her way back to the group.

"Viv," she urged, "What's happened? All I know is he's been attacked, and something about his hands."

Viv's face clouded. "We got called out of the club after the event, but Ted, one of the bouncers, told us he and Norman saw Ged get to the corner of Thomas Street and then three blokes jumped him. They were wearing those look-alike masks.

"Ted and Norm ran to break it up, but it's quite a way down the street and they'd beaten Ged up before Ted got there. They'd kicked at him, and get this, one of them had knelt down and pulled Ged's hands out while one of the others jumped and stamped on them. The third bloke was kicking at Ged's backside. I think he was trying to kick his balls. Anyway they ran off as Ted arrived and one of them lost his mask as they ran.

"When we got there, Ged was semi-conscious and Norm was putting him into the recovery position. He stirred and groaned and then said your name a number of times. I know you've finished with Ged, but I thought it might help him if you came.

"Anyway the police came and an ambulance, and I had to shout and yell at them before they'd let me come with him. He was delirious, saying your name, mumbling something about someone called Harry. We got here and they took him away. They won't tell us anything."

While Vicky was speaking a young doctor arrived, invited Cassie and the group to follow him and took them to a room off the main waiting area.

"Well Mrs Fenton," he said, after he had seated them all, "Mr Smith has gone for X-rays on his skull, his chest and his hands. We've checked him over and we don't think any of his ribs are fractured, but we want to make sure. Same with his head. But his hands are a different matter. There are a lot of breaks in the bones of his right hand, and probably his left as well, though not as many.

"His genital region is badly bruised and swollen, and we've had to catheterise him. There are other contusions but they are not so serious, though his face will be a mess for a while. He's in no immediate danger, but we are worried about possible brain injury, and we'll be keeping a keen eye on him for that. He'll be getting a MR scan later."

"So what will happen next?" It was Viv who asked; Cassie looked shocked and pale.

"That depends on the X-rays," the young doctor replied. "We've contacted our orthopaedic consultant and he will be here within the hour. He's very good and I suspect he'll want to operate on Mr Smith's hands at the very least, and quickly.

"Mrs Fenton, would you be prepared to consent to the operation? Mr Smith is heavily sedated at the moment and we feel it would not be in his interest to bring him out of that. There is a lot of damage to his hands, and the pain would be intense."

Cassie was still abstracted. She did not correct the doctor as to her marital name.

"Mrs Fenton?" asked the doctor.

"Cassie!" Vicky spoke sharply, and Cassie jumped.

"Will you sign for the operation?" she asked her.

"What? Oh yes, of course."

"Good!" said the doctor, showing his relief, "The surgical registrar will be in in a minute with the paperwork," and with that he left.

An orderly came in and asked if anyone wanted some tea. The group decided they would be on their way, but Vicky stayed with Cassie and they asked for tea. The registrar arrived and Cassie signed the forms authorising the operations.

The nurse who brought the tea invited them to stay in the room until the results of the x-rays were known, and behind her there stood a policeman.

"I wonder if I might have a word?" he asked, as if reluctant to intrude on their worries.

On their acceptance he took out his notebook and a large envelope. He took Vicky's statement and then turned to Cassie.

"I'm told that you are Mr Smith's next of kin," he said, taking some papers out of the envelope. She nodded.

"There were witnesses to the attack and some people took photos on their mobile phones. There is also CCTV coverage of part of the fight, er, I mean the assault. Would you look at these photo's and tell me if you recognise anyone?" He slid the photo's over to her side of the coffee table.

The first two were of the attack, but the masks on the faces of the assailants prevented her from recognising any of them. However, the third showed the three in full flight, and the mask had slipped from one face.

"No, I don't recognise him," she said after peering at the print, "but Viv might, she knew Ged before I met him."

Viv looked at the photo. Then she sat forward, "The man running, that's Lee Preston. He went to school with Ged. They didn't get on, but I cannot believe he would do that to Ged!"

"Do you know where he lives?" asked the officer, notebook at the ready.

"Well, he used to live with his mother," and she gave the address, "but I don't know whether he still does. I thought he was one of Ged's mates."

The officer, spoke into his phone, giving the name and address. "We need to get to him before he gets rid of his clothes, there'll be blood on them. Thank you Mz Percival," and he left.

"Cassie," said Vivienne, after a silence lasting about half an hour, "Ged was muttering about someone called Harry. Do you know who he meant? Perhaps we should try to contact him."

"No, I don't think so," Cassie said after wondering how much to tell her, "Actually, I don't know how he got Harry's name, Harry's the man I'm seeing at the moment."

"You mean seeing as in 'seeing'?" Viv asked.

"No, not that. At least not yet. We've been out a few times. He's very nice."

"Oh."

Silence. Vivienne was obviously disappointed.

Then, "But you and Ged-"

"Finished," Cassie asserted. "We agreed it was over, and time to move on."

"From what Ged said, this 'agreement', this 'moving on' is a bit one-sided? He hasn't, and if you've moved on, Cassie, what the hell are you doing here now?"

"I'm his next of kin."

"You didn't know that when you arrived. Stop telling lies. Why are you here if he means nothing to you any more? You could have phoned to see how he was. Why didn't you?" Vivienne's tone was aggressive, pushy.

It made Cassie think. When she heard he'd been attacked she had upped and left Harry, without a backward glance and had come hell for leather to the hospital. Why had she done that?

"I don't know," she confessed. "I didn't think. I just acted."

"Well you'd better think now," Vivienne muttered. "This is no time for games, or for messing with Ged's head. You're not doing this to mess with his head are you, some sort of revenge?"

"No!" Cassie exclaimed loudly, then "No," more quietly. "I... Well, I..." and she stuttered to a standstill.

"Look," Vivienne said patiently. "Don't say any more. Just think it out. It looks like we'll be here for some time. I know why you've come running, so sooner or later you will too, unless you're really incredibly thick, and I know you're not. So just shut up and use the time to work everything out."

So she did, and an hour later the young doctor came back.

"We did the x-rays," he said, sitting down opposite them. "His hands are a mess, many bones broken and even crushed in the right hand, few in the left but a lot of bruising. It looks as if the boots used were metal studded. No other breakages, and his skull is intact. So we did an MR scan on his head and we're satisfied there is no haemorrhaging to the brain. There is tissue damage all over his body and contusions to his genitals as we thought, but most of that will heal in time.

"Mr Watkinson is operating now on his hands. It's going to be a very long job: some hours."

"Will his hands heal?" asked Vivianne. "He's a musician; he plays keyboards and guitar."

A shadow crossed the young doctor's face.

"It really is too soon to say," he said, "but I don't think he'll ever get full use of the fingers of his right hand at least. The left may heal better, but as I said, some bones in the right are not only broken but partially crushed. The tendons and nerves are a mess as well, the tissue damage is serious."

"When can we see him?" asked Cassie, whose eyes were now brimming with tears.

"He'll be in surgery for at least another two hours if not longer. We will keep him sedated overnight and probably for much of tomorrow. There really is no point in staying here. Come back about four tomorrow afternoon, but I would phone first to check."

"Will they give me news?" asked Vivienne, "They wouldn't tell me anything when I asked earlier."

"If Mz Fenton asks them to keep you informed, they will. We are bound by the law, and can't give personal details to people who are not relatives without express permission."

So reluctantly, the two women left the hospital and went to their respective homes.

Cassie was restless once in bed. Everything was mixed up again. Vivienne's harsh words cut into her as she lay, tossing and turning in her bed.

She remembered what she had been doing with Harry when she heard the news. She was holding his prick and he was mauling her breasts, and she knew they were on the way to bed from then on, her delaying resolution notwithstanding. She had abandoned all resistance and was urgent in her need for Harry's body.

Then the news, and she had pulled her hand out of his trousers, dressed and phoned a taxi, then left without a backward glance. She had found a wonderful man, and was making love when she dropped him, almost literally, and ran to Ged. Why?

Eventually, a sense of resignation came over her sleepy thoughts. She knew exactly why, didn't she? She was not over Ged at all. As if it were a mist clearing, a number of things became crystal clear, and she got out of bed and made some tea. She sat in the kitchen and thought hard.

She had finished with Ged because her emotions were all wrung out and she could not face any more stress, but her relief then was touched with regret and a feeling of depression.

Why had she become so exhausted? Obviously because she loved him, and their fractured relationship was too hurtful to bear any longer. That explained the feeling of unease with Harry. It was Ged she really needed.

Then there was Harry. Why had she fallen for him so fast? Because in a way he was just like Ged, deeply sensitive and artistic. Even his build was the same as Ged's! She felt sorry for Harry. He did not deserve what she would have to do.

She now knew with clear definition that no matter what might happen, she needed Ged. He had said he would wait for her to come back to him. A surge of hope passed through her. Perhaps there was a chance...

She was brought up short. Ged was very ill, badly injured. All her worries returned and also her distress at his suffering and at the possibility that he would never play an instrument again.

With it came an idea. She sighed, and with much greater calmness, went to bed and slept the night and half of the following morning away.

--

Chapter Forty One

When Ged at last awoke fully he had a vague recollection of things being done to him, and of light and dark, and of wondering where he was. He had no recollection of the attack on him.

Now he realised he was in hospital, that his mouth was very dry, that he had a dreadful headache, that his hands were heavily bandaged and if anything hurt more than his head, that there was a drip attached to the crook of his elbow and that he had an uncomfortable feeling in his penis. He lay still and tried to remember what had happened to him.

He remembered the gig, he remembered leaving the club and walking down the street outside, and that was all. He looked around. He seemed to be in a room on his own. He idly thought that was odd, since hospitals normally housed patients in wards of about ten, if not more.

He became aware of feeling thirsty, and saw at his bedside a tumbler of water. He reached for it, and instantly realised that his right hand was in a cast and the left was heavily bandaged and strapped up so he would not be able to grasp it.

At that point the door opened and a pretty nurse poked her head round it.

"Oh," she smiled broadly. "You've finally joined the living again!"

She strode over to the bed and performed the usual routine nurses did. Blood pressure, temperature, the drip. Then she removed the catheter: as yet he had not spoken but there was an urgent intake of breath at the discomfort.

"I'm thirsty and I don't seem to be able to hold a glass." he croaked.

"Soon solved," the bright young thing chirped. She picked up the plastic tumbler, attached a lid and a straw, and put it to his lips.

"There," she said.

Ged sucked up the water until the tumbler was empty, whereupon the nurse filled it and repeated the exercise. He drank half of it and then felt better.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Headache, and my hands hurt like hell," he replied, "and someone's been kicking me up the backside."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Was I hit by a car?" he asked. "I don't remember."

"They were saying you were attacked," she replied. "You're Ged Smith, the singer, aren't you?"

He nodded and regretted it instantly, wincing with the pain.

"I'll get you something for your headache after the doctor has seen you." she said, and left.

It was not long before the doctor arrived, another pretty woman somewhat older.

"'Hello, Mr Smith," she said with a smile, "Let me check you out. She looked at his eyes and shone a light into them, then scanned his chart. Finally she looked at his notes.

"What happened to me?" he asked her.

"From what I heard you were attacked by three men. They gave you a good kicking. Your hands were damaged in the attack and they kicked your genitals.

"You have bruising over your chest area, but no bones broken there. You've been head-butted, but no cranial damage, or brain damage. Your nose survived as well."

"My hands!" he said. "They're bandaged; are they OK?"

"Mr Watkinson operated on them last night, and he's very good. I'm afraid it's a matter of 'wait and see'. You're strapped up to prevent movement while the bones, tendons and nerves heal."

The doctor left after saying that Mr Watkinson might call in to check on Ged's progress. A nurse arrived.

"You've caused quite a stir. There's pressmen and even a TV crew asking about you. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you who we can admit. Those reporters have already been telling us they're personal friends of yours.