Bring Me Home

“As I was about to say, we’re going to take him to the private wing upstairs. Fortunately, most of the medication he took has a relatively low toxicity. It’s his time in the water and how long he went without oxygen that provides the greatest cause for concern, however, it’s looking very much like he’s been a remarkably lucky man. We will, of course, be monitoring him over the next few days for any signs of hypoxic brain injury, but-”

“Brain injury?” Fuck.

“Please…” The doctor reached out, touched my arm. “Try not to worry. The words sound very serious for a reason but, as I said, Mr Hayes is doing extremely well. It’s likely he won’t be ready for visitors until he’s discharged in a few days’ time but, if he agrees, I’m sure the ward will allow one or two people for a few minutes at a time.”

“Wait…discharged? You’re sending him home?” That couldn’t be right. “You can’t!”

His smile turned sympathetic. “I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr Hayes’s next steps, but he won’t be staying with us at the hospital, no.”

This isn’t right. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what needed to happen. Hugo wasn’t safe. He needed help. Treatment. Treatment he’d never agree to because he was a stubborn arsehole. Someone needed to force him!

“He needs sectioning, surely? Is this because he’s famous? Rich?” I argued, disgusted. “What’s he done, paid you to let him out?”

“I can assure you that’s not the case here.” His assurance gave me nothing. “Mr Hayes has been assessed by one of my colleagues from psychiatry and, while he’s far from where he needs to be, we don’t feel he poses an immediate risk to himself or anyone else.”

I shook my head, sighed.

“That’s good news, Hel.” Chrissie rubbed my back through the thick blanket that still covered my damp clothes.

“Is it? I can’t take care of him, Chris. Look where we are! Look what happens when it’s up to me to look out for him!”

“Hey, Helen, isn’t it?” For some reason, my name on the doctor’s lips warmed the chill in my bones. He knew it, which meant Hugo had told him, and I imagined the moment that had taken place, heard it in Hugo’s voice.

“Yeah. It is.”

“You’re not going to be alone with this. Mr Hayes won’t be leaving without a support plan in place, and that plan is just as important for you and those who care about him. Now, forgive me if I sound crass but, as you brought up his…status, shall we say, I can tell you I feel more confident about his recovery than a lot of patients I see. He’ll have access to the very best treatment out there.”

“If he wants it.”

Finally, I’d managed to stump one of them. The doctor couldn’t smile at that one. “Yes, quite,” was all he said.

“He gets treatment or he gets my stiletto up his arse. I think he’ll want it,” Chrissie chimed in.

I breathed out a chuckle, bumped her shoulder, appreciated her effort to normalise the situation. The doctor told us we could wait in the quiet room while Hugo was moved upstairs, and I took the opportunity to quickly change into the dirty but dry clothes Chrissie had brought while she guarded the door.

“I’m sorry they’re not clean,” Chrissie said again. “I was trying to hurry and that place is massive.”

“Yeah. Even I haven’t learned where everything is yet. Honestly, I don’t even think Hugo knows.” It hurt to say his name. I missed him. I couldn’t ever come that close to losing him again. “What do I do, Chris? What do I say to him?”

She tried to smile, bless her. Instead, she reached out, arm’s length, and put a hand on my shoulder. “I want to tell you to go in there and slap the stupid bastard into next Christmas but…I don’t know, Hel. I just…don’t know.”

“Have you seen him?” Drew burst into the room, his voice ragged, breathless. “Liam said you disappeared from the waiting room a while ago.”

“Not yet. They’re taking him upstairs or something,” I said. “He’s okay, though. Well, as okay as someone can be after overdosing and drowning in their own pool.”

Drew nodded, steepled his hands under his chin. “It’s a fucking circus out there. You see it?”

I assumed he was referring to the paparazzi. “No. I came in through the ambulance bays.”

“Right.”

“They’re discharging him, you know.”

“Right,” he said again. He didn’t sound the least surprised. My hesitancy must have been carved into my forehead because he added, “I’ve been in this business a long time, Helen. This isn’t my first rodeo and Hu is far from my first bull. When they release him from here, he’ll be checked into Woodhall Lodge before they’ve finished serving breakfast.”

“What is that, like a rehab?” Hugo wasn’t an addict. Unless I’d missed that, too.