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This story is fiction, it didn't happen, to the best of the author's knowledge no one in the story exists in real life.
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Chapter 18
"I'm glad we're working under cover, Jerry," Carl said as he looked out at a sodden building site. Pools of water were forming in the many potholes over the as yet unpaved landscape.
"Yeah, it's a real downpour. Looks as though it's set in for the rest of the day, too," Jerry said, also gazing out at the inclement conditions. The pair were putting the final touches to a set of kitchen cabinets in one of the almost completed new houses.
Their radio, which was tuned to an AM pop music station, kept crackling, a reasonable indicator of thunder and lightning in the vicinity.
The two continued to work. Carl found it odd that he and Jerry could operate in even the most confined spaces without seeming to get in one another's way.
Jerry, thinking he'd heard something on the radio, shouted over to Carl to stop his drill. The traffic report had just come on.
"Due to an overturned tanker which is blocking two of the three lanes on the eastbound carriageway of the M60 between junctions 2 and 3, Police are advising motorists to find an alternate route, as traffic is becoming increasingly congested. Lines of slow moving traffic are already stretching back more than five miles, the tailbacks are likely to grow even longer once the rush hour traffic joins the motorway."
"Shit, that'll affect me," Carl said.
Jerry thought for a moment. "Well, if you'll take my advice," Jerry scratched his head, "there's quite a good shortcut." He got out a scrap of paper and wrote out a series of directions that would cut out that section of the motorway. "It's a bit remote up there, and the road isn't the best in places, but it'll be less crowded than taking the A-roads, which will be jam packed with the diverted traffic."
"Yeah, you're right, thanks mate. I don't know that area of Lancashire as well as I ought to," Carl said, tucking the sheet of paper into the right hand pocket of his jeans.
"I'll see you on Monday," Carl shouted to Jerry as the two ran for their vehicles after they'd knocked off work for the day. The rain was teeming down just as hard, and the centre of the storm was getting nearer.
Carl's van wouldn't start first time. 'Shit, I'm gonna have to get this thing looked at again,' he brooded. Carl began to wonder if he oughtn't to swallow his pride and ask Robbie if he could borrow the money for a new van. He couldn't face the prospect of just taking a handout; he'd have to pay Robbie back. Offering up a prayer, Carl turned the key in the ignition for a second time. The engine coughed, Carl thought it wasn't going to catch, but he was proved wrong. The engine fired into life; he revved it a couple of times, switched on the windscreen wipers to full and set off.
Carl liked driving, often using the time to ponder his life. He couldn't help smiling as a vision of his family swam into view; he thought that he'd been happy in the early days with Maureen, especially when Ben had come onto the scene, but now his life with Robbie was just so full and overwhelmingly satisfying. Carl's grin widened as he pictured what it would be like when he got home that night. He'd fallen into a routine, as he reached the top of the drive, he'd toot his horn a couple of times, drive round to the rear of the house, and Robbie would be there, waiting to give him a loving hug and kiss as he entered through the back door. Then he'd get a hug from Ben, and latterly Lady, Ben's dog, would insist on being given some attention, too. Carl knew that he'd never been happier or more content with his lot.
Turning off of the main A-road, Carl began driving along a minor road, which Jerry had advised him to take. He was thankful once again for his friendship with Jerry. If only Jerry lived a bit closer, he would have invited him and his wife, plus Peter, their gay son, up to the house. Carl wondered if Peter would have liked to join in on the Saturday sessions round the pool. At first Carl had worried about Ben being around so many gay people, but he soon realised that everything was fine. Everyone always seemed to behave themselves. It was a real comfort to him to socialise with other like-minded people.
The van began to ascend a hill. 'Jerry wasn't wrong when he said that this place was remote,' Carl said to himself. Due to the absence of street lighting, and the ominously dark sky, Carl wasn't able to make out many of the local landmarks. However, his isolated surroundings were often brightly revealed during the brief flashes of sheet lightening, which repeatedly exploded during the seemingly never-ending storm.
All of a sudden the engine died and the van lost power. With the remainder of the van's forward momentum, Carl pulled to the side of the road. He put the gear lever in neutral, and turned the ignition, but nothing happened; the engine didn't so much as give out a murmur. "Shit! Fuck! Damn!" Carl put on the hand break to stop the van from rolling down the hill. There was nothing for it, he'd have to get out and have a look under the bonnet. Reaching round the back of his seat, Carl groped for his raincoat. However his fingers found nothing but an empty soft drinks can, and a half finished bar of chocolate. "Fuck!" Carl realised that he'd left his coat back at the house. Even a quick look at the engine would drench him. He was never one for wearing thick woollen pullovers, he generally got too hot in them as he worked. All he had on was a checked cotton work shirt. Thinking for a moment, Carl planned out in his head how he should tackle his current situation. He realised that there should be a torch in his toolbox at the rear of the van. Sending up a quick prayer, Carl pulled the lever to release the bonnet, removed the key from the ignition and stepped out into the unwelcoming wet darkness. The wind which had also begun to blow, hurled the rain at him; he was drenched in a matter of seconds.
Carl spent a few moments under the bonnet, but couldn't find the source of the problem. He slammed down the lid in frustration and made his way back to the relative dryness of the inside of his van. He reached up for the dome light. It gave him some illumination, which helped him feel a little less isolated.
After uttering a few more choice oaths, Carl remembered the mobile phone, which Robbie had bought for such an emergency. "God love him," Carl said, reaching into his duffle bag. "Odd, I thought I'd left it switched on," Carl said, peering at the phone's blank display. He pressed the on button, but nothing happened. "Shit!" The battery was flat. He then remembered that he'd left the in car charger at Robbie's. A further stream of bad language ensued.
Sitting for a few minutes, Carl wondered what to do. His thoughts were accompanied by the rain continually being hurled like millions of tiny ball bearings onto the metal roof of the van. This along with the noises of the storm didn't exactly reassure him. Carl knew that the safest policy would be to remain with his vehicle, he didn't have any waterproof clothing with him, he was on an exposed hillside in the driving wind and rain. Remembering the half eaten bar of chocolate, Carl reached behind his seat and slowly ate the remaining squares.
About half an hour passed; no traffic had gone by and Carl was beginning to shiver. His wet clothes, plus his lack of movement meant that his body wasn't able to generate and conserve much body heat.
Carl finally decided that he ought to try and find rescue somehow. He thought it would be best to attempt to make his way back to the main road; although the trek along the minor road he was on would be easier, he knew that if he cut across the moor, it would make his journey shorter.
Exiting the van, Carl delved once again into the cold wetness. He switched on his torch, but the small beam did little to counter the murky conditions. Carl continued to shiver; what little heat his body generated was quickly snatched away by the biting wind and chilling rain. He quickened his step, hoping the extra exertion would help to warm him up. The torch, which was jiggling around in his hand, failed to pick out a rabbit hole almost entirely hidden by a clump of long grass.
Carl's left foot caught in the hole, pitching him forward. He let go of the torch, which described an arc as it flew from his hand into the air, only to fall back to the sodden ground. Unfortunately, in the darkness he wasn't able to see the rocks that littered the area. As his body crumpled to the ground, his outstretched hands cushioned his fall a little, but they weren't sufficient to prevent a blow to the head from one of the rocks that was embedded into the grassland. Rolling onto his back, Carl felt a tremendous pain on the right side of his head, but this didn't last too long as unconsciousness soon swept over him.
"Ben, your dad didn't say anything about working late tonight did he?" Robbie asked as he looked up at the clock in the Drawing room. It was half past seven. Robbie was beginning to feel a little uneasy at Carl's late appearance.
"No, he never mentioned anything about it," Ben said, lifting his head from his English textbook.
"Right." Robbie didn't want to alarm Ben; there was probably a perfectly good reason for the delay. Rather than pace the floor in front of Ben, Robbie decided to go into the kitchen. The fact that the rain was teeming down in torrents didn't exactly help ease his nerves.
"It's just a casserole, it can keep," Sarah told Robbie when he enquired about holding tea. "Though there's nothing to stop you and Ben from having yours whenever you want it."
"Thanks, but we'll wait, I think." Robbie just couldn't shift the notion from his brain that something was wrong. He rarely suffered from headaches, but there was a nagging pain behind his right eye, which was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. "I think I might try his mobile."
"That might not be a good idea, if he's driving, I mean," Sarah said, noticing Robbie's worried state.
"I know, but he's not normally this late."
"Given the weather, he's probably just reduced his speed."
"Yeah." Robbie wasn't reassured.
"They said that there was heavy congestion on the motorway when I heard the news just before The Archer's at seven o'clock."
"Did they say what had caused the hold ups?"
"An overturned petrol tanker, I think."
An image of Carl pinned in the remains of his crushed van as firemen and paramedics battled against the oncoming flames to cut his lover free, swept into Robbie's mind. No, he wasn't going there.
Sarah went on quickly. "It happened much earlier this afternoon, before Carl would have set out."
Robbie let out a breath. "He's probably caught up in the traffic jam, then."
"I'm sure that'll be it, love. Try not to worry so much." Sarah put a hand on Robbie's shoulder.
"I'll try, but it isn't easy to relax when you don't know what's happening. I think I'll give him a ring then, if he's in traffic, he'll be able to answer the phone," Robbie said, leaving the kitchen before Sarah could object.
Once in the study, Robbie looked up Carl's mobile number, and dialled it. "Shit, it's turned off," he said when he heard the voicemail.
He paced the floor of the room, working himself into a state of alarm.
Carl lay unmoving on the hillside. The small swelling on his right temple had oozed a little blood, but the rain that continued to pelt down had washed this away. His skin had grown colder as his body tried to keep his internal organs as warm as possible.
By eight o'clock, Robbie was beginning to panic. Another quick look outside the window confirmed that the storm wasn't easing. He checked the weather reports on the net, the whole of the north of England was in the grip of the storm.
Ben came into the study. "Dad Rob, I'm getting scared, dad's never been this late before."
"I know, son." Robbie gave Ben a squeeze. He didn't think it right to tell Ben of his own fears. "Sarah said that there was a load of queuing traffic on the motorway, so I expect your dad's caught up in that."
"Have you tried ringing him on his phone?" Ben asked.
Robbie had repeatedly dialled the number, but he kept getting the voicemail. He left a message once, but Carl hadn't responded.
Just then, the phone began to ring. Robbie's heart began to lighten. 'That must be him,' he thought. "Hello?"
The voice at the other end was unfamiliar. "Oh, hi, I was just ringing up to ask if Carl was able to follow the directions I gave him."
"Erm, who's calling?" Robbie asked.
"Oh sorry, I'm Jerry Bolton, I work with Carl on the building site. You must be Robbie?"
"Yeah, that's me. Carl isn't back yet, and I'm getting a bit worried." The pain behind Robbie's eye was beginning to increase.
"Oh, he should have been back by now."
"Well, we heard reports of a problem on the motorway. So I assume he's caught up in that."
"No, as I said, I told him to go a different way home; we heard the traffic reports on the radio this afternoon." Jerry gave Robbie the details of which roads he'd advised Carl to take.
Robbie came out in a cold sweat. Something was obviously wrong. "I've tried ringing his mobile, but it's switched off."
"Oh," Jerry said. "I can take my van and go and have a look and see if he's broken down or something. I know his van isn't that reliable, he told me that the mechanic last week mentioned that it wouldn't last much longer."
This was news to Robbie; Carl hadn't divulged anything about having taken the van to a garage. "I think I'll have a drive out there, too. I can't settle here."
The two exchanged mobile phone numbers before hanging up. Robbie turned to a frightened Ben, recounting the telephone conversation to him.
"Dad Rob, I'm scared, I want to come with you."
"No, son. It's a horrible night out there, and it's almost your bedtime."
"I won't be able to sleep until I know he's safe."
"I know, but Ben, I can't let you go. I'm sorry, love. You stop here with Sarah and Lady, I promise I'll ring you just as soon as I know anything."
"I want to go, he's my dad, I love him." Ben wrapped his arms around Robbie, who was tempted to take him, but knew that he couldn't.
"I'm sorry, Ben, but no. I don't like saying no to you, but I'm going to have to about this. Sorry, sweetheart." Robbie got to his feet; he ran his right hand through his hair, wondering what he should take with him. There was a waterproof sheet in one of the downstairs cupboards. Should he also take blankets, a warm drink in a thermos flask? He went into the kitchen to speak to Sarah.
"I'll put some Brandy in the coffee," she said, reaching for the kettle.
"No, if Carl's gone into shock or whatever, alcohol is the last thing he'd need," Robbie said, remembering something Patrick had told him.
"They always give Brandy to people who are . . ." Sarah paused seeing Ben's frightened face.
"No, Sarah, just a flask of hot coffee, but put plenty of sugar in it."
Robbie went around the house, gathering various items that he thought might come in handy. Lady was following Robbie as he moved from room to room, constantly whining. Something she didn't normally do. At first it irritated him, he had to get on.
"Dad Rob, if you won't let me go, then please take Lady, she might be able to find dad if, if . . ." Ben didn't want to go down that road.
"I don't know about that, son," Robbie said, taking hold of the flask from Sarah.
Lady barked.
"Please, Dad Rob." Ben turned on his most pleading expression.
"Oh, okay then," Robbie said, hoping the dog wouldn't get in the way. "Get her lead out of the cupboard."
Ben scampered off, Lady following him. "You find Daddy Carl, girl. Please help Dad Rob find him," Ben said, giving the dog a quick squeeze.
Ben helped Robbie put all his gear into the car; Lady jumped onto the back seat. Fortunately Robbie had taken the precaution of buying a fitted plastic cover to protect the upholstery.
The elements were still at their worst as Robbie made his way down the hill. He was sorely tempted to speed, but given the bad weather, he resisted the urge. He greatly feared that something was badly wrong with his Carl; he just hoped he could find him, and help him. "That bloody van!" Robbie clenched his fist and brought it down on his steering wheel. 'He's having a new one whether he likes it or not. I'm gonna have him safe, I don't care if he calls me every bad name under the sun. As soon as the garages open tomorrow, I'm gonna make him buy the safest and most sturdy vehicle that's ever been made.' Robbie gritted his teeth as his car coursed along the rain-drenched streets, continuing to fume inwardly at Carl's pig-headed stubbornness about not letting him give him the money to buy a new vehicle.
Robbie's mood then swung to concern for the man he loved more than his own life. 'What if he's hurt, what if he's . . ?" Robbie shuddered. Like a pendulum on a long rope, Robbie's mood turned to anger again. 'He has no right to put me and Ben through this'. Robbie drove for about half an hour, the rain still teeming down, Robbie's windscreen wipers having to work hard to keep his view unimpeded.
Carl's breathing became shallower, and his core temperature started to drop. His pulse began to weaken.
The headlamps of Robbie's car, which were on full beam, cut a swath of light through the wet darkness. Suddenly, he spotted something. It was Carl's van; he let out a breath. 'Thank God, thank God I've found him.'
Robbie pulled his car hard over onto the grass verge, but no one emerged from the van. He tooted the horn, but still nothing. His spirits began to fall. He reached over for his raincoat, told Lady to stop where she was, and got out of the car. Peering in through the van's windows; Robbie couldn't see very much, so he shone his torch inside. The van was devoid of Carl. His heart pounded in alarm.
Getting back into his car, Robbie wondered what he should do next. Although he'd promised to keep Sarah and Ben abreast of developments, he didn't want to alarm them. He thought he'd wait until he had something concrete to say. Remembering that Jerry was on the way, he dialled the number from memory.
"Hello?" A youngish sounding voice answered.
Robbie thought he'd dialled the wrong number. "Erm, hello, is that Jerry Bolton's phone?"
"Yes, this is Peter. Dad took me along with him. Have you found Carl?"
"No. I've found his van, though, but it's empty." Robbie proceeded to give Peter details of his whereabouts.
"Right." Peter relayed the information to his father; Robbie couldn't make out Jerry's reply. "Dad said that we'll be with you in a few minutes. Stay where you are."
Robbie was relieved that he wasn't on his own in this. "Thank you, thank you very much," Robbie said with more than a little relief in his voice.
Lady, sensing she was needed, scampered from the back seat and planted herself in Robbie's lap. Robbie wrapped his arms around her. "I'm scared, girl. I don't know where he is." The relief that Jerry and Peter were on the way, had soon dissipated leaving Robbie more frightened than before.
A few minutes later, Robbie saw a set of headlamps coming towards him. They slowed down; the car pulled over to his side of the road and parked in front of him. Two figures got out and approached Robbie's Trooper.
"Thanks for coming out on a night like this," Robbie said, his mood lifting a little.
"It's fine," the older of the two, Jerry, answered. "Is the van all locked up?"
Robbie said he hadn't tried to get in. However the three quickly discovered that the van was locked.
"Okay," Jerry said. He knew that he would have to be in charge of the rescue operation. Peter, although a responsible seventeen year-old, was too young, and one look at the anxious face of Robbie confirmed that he wasn't in any state to make decisions. Jerry switched on his torch and swept the ground by Carl's van. His examination revealed a few possible footprints in the mud.
"Okay, follow me." Jerry began to walk, his torch trained on the now hard to make out footprints. As Robbie moved next to Jerry, Lady began to bark furiously from Robbie's car. "Might as well let the dog come, too, she might be able to spot something we can't."
"Won't the rain have washed away Carl's scent?"
"Probably, but she's obviously set on going with us," Jerry said.
Robbie got out the lead; he didn't want Lady loose on the moor, too. Robbie followed the other two; he also switched on his torch in an effort to provide more light.
After they had walked for about ten minutes, Jerry now unable to find any more footprints, Lady tugged on her lead. "What is it, girl?" Robbie said.
Lady began to whine and continued to tug at the lead. As they had no reason to remain on the course they were taking, the group of rescuers allowed Lady to guide them.
A few moments later, Peter said, "Look, over there!"
When Robbie saw Carl's still body on the ground, his legs almost gave way. "Nooooo!"
Jerry immediately took charge. He felt for a pulse, it was there, but was fairly weak. Carl's wrist felt deathly cold.
"Peter, call 999 and tell them we want an ambulance to meet one of us on the B9772," Jerry continued to give instructions.
"Shouldn't we move him, dad?"
"No," Robbie came out of his shock to announce. "We don't know if he's hurt his neck."
"Yes, that's right," Jerry said. As Peter made the call, Robbie remained on his knees talking to his lover. He had the strongest urge to cuddle him, to try and get some warmth into him, but knew that he dare not move him for fear of causing complications to any possible spinal injuries, which Carl might have sustained. "There are some blankets and a tarpaulin in my car. We should try and get him warm," Robbie said, taking his eyes away momentarily from the ghostly white face of his lover. Robbie battled hard not to cry.
Although it seemed to Robbie to take an age, the ambulance was with them within 15 minutes of Peter's call. Peter had waited by the three vehicles, and guided the paramedics to where Carl lay. With infinite gentleness, they slotted boards under Carl and immobilised his neck, they then wrapped him up in space blankets, which to Peter looked like large sheets of aluminium foil.
As they lifted him, Carl started to moan.
"It's alright, my love. It's the ambulance, you'll be okay Car, just hang on love, please love, just hang on," Robbie said effectively outing himself and Carl, but he wasn't bothered about that, he just hoped his words had reached Carl.
Peter hugged a shivering Robbie as the ambulance crew with practiced skill carried their patient to their waiting vehicle.
Jerry, seeing that Robbie was in no fit state to drive, told Peter, who had only recently passed his test, to drive Robbie's Trooper. So the ambulance with lights flashing and sirens wailing was followed by Robbie's car, with Jerry in his van bringing up the rear. Robbie sat silently in the front passenger seat, cuddled up to Lady. He continued to shiver as he remembered the sight of his precious Carl lying on the ground. Robbie's mobile phone started to ring, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Hello?" Robbie's teeth were still chattering despite the fact that the car's heater was on full.
"Dad Rob, you haven't rung, is everything okay? Have you found him?" Ben's panicked voice came over the phone.
"We've found him, he's alive, he'd gotten out of his van, but he's very cold. We're following the ambulance to the hospital." There was silence at the other end. "You there, Ben?"
"Is he, is he . . .?"
"Yes! He'll be okay." Robbie didn't know this for certain, but he prayed with every fibre of his being that Carl would be fine.
Robbie could hear Ben crying. "I want to be with him."
"Erm, I don't know how we can do that. I promise I'll ring from the hospital just as soon as the doctors have taken a look at him."
"I need to be with him."
"I know, son. But I don't know how you'd get to the hospital, and I'm not sure they'll let kids in. Please, Ben, stay where you are for the minute. Put Sarah on, will you." Robbie heard the phone being handed over. He then gave Sarah more details about what he knew of Carl's condition. "Look after him, Sarah, I'll ring again just as soon as I know more."
Robbie, Peter and Jerry sat in the relatives room in the accident and emergency department of the hospital. Robbie had given the receptionist all the details he could, listing himself as next of kin. Fortunately, the woman behind the desk hadn't questioned him about his relationship to Carl. It being a Monday night, the department wasn't overly busy, though as Carl was brought in as an emergency he received priority treatment anyway.
Robbie tried to interest himself in a magazine, but the vision of Carl's pale and blue tinged face kept superimposing itself over the words on the page.
The ambulance crew wheeled Carl into a cubicle. The chief paramedic reeled off Carl's symptoms and the treatment they'd already delivered.
"Hello, Mr Powers," Dr John Davy, the junior doctor entrusted with Carl's care, spoke to his semi-conscious patient. "You've been brought into casualty because you've hurt your head, and you're a bit cold, okay?"
Carl muttered something unintelligible in response.
"Okay, David," John said to the cute male nurse who was working alongside him, "I think it'd be best if we treated him with heated and humidified air."
"Ah, the good old Inhalation method!" David observed, getting the equipment ready.
"I think it'd be best," John said. "I know some favour the active external approach, you know, electric blankets etc, but there's always the danger of stimulating the peripheral and colder blood, and it getting back into the body and causing core temperature afterdrop. There's also the distinct possibility that the peripheral blood could contain metabolic waste."
"No problem, John," David said. He knew his partner, in both the professional and personal sense, would always have the best interests of his patient in mind.
The two worked well together; they'd been friends for years, and had begun a relationship which both found very satisfying.
After about 15 minutes had elapsed, John paused; he was very tired. The long hours which junior doctors had to face were taking their toll on his concentration. "Okay, what's his core temp, now?"
David took the reading. "34.6." Even though John was fully used to the centigrade scale, he always felt that Fahrenheit was a far better measure. 98.6 Fahrenheit, which was the normal body temperature, sounded far more natural to him than 37 degrees centigrade.
"Okay, let's carry on as we've been doing, then."
John kept checking Carl's other neurological signs; Carl's pupils were equal and reactive, but his blood pressure was low, this was undoubtedly due to his patient being so cold.
As he looked at his patient, who was slowly becoming pinker, John couldn't help lust at how well put together the man was. Although John had a huge respect for the third-year nurse who was working alongside him, he was gay, and he took every opportunity he could to study the beauty of the male form.
"Welcome back, Mr Powers," John Davy said when Carl became more aware of his surroundings. "Feeling better now?"
"Yeah," Carl said. "I don't remember very much."
"That's usual. Have you got a headache or anything?" John said, checking Carl over for signs of twitching or other neurological abnormalities.
"Yeah, it pounds a bit," Carl said, lifting his hand to the right side of his head.
"Yes, I'm not surprised. I'll arrange something to help you with that. But you should be okay. We'll keep you in overnight, just to keep an eye on you, but everything seems okay at the minute."
"Who brought me in?"
David looked at Carl's notes. "The ambulance, your next of kin is listed as Robert Foster, he's in the waiting room, I imagine."
Carl closed his eyes. "Oh, I've put him through all this."
"Don't worry, I'll have a word with him, now you're awake. Do you feel up to seeing him for a few minutes?" John said, still admiring his hunky patient.
"Better get it over with, I guess. He's been on at me to get a new van, but I kept putting it off."
"You remember breaking down?"
"Yeah, I think so, but not much after that."
"Perfectly normal," John reassured.
The white-coated junior doctor left the curtained-off cubicle and went to the reception desk to enquire after the whereabouts of his patient's relative. The female receptionist smiled warmly as she saw Dr Davy approach. She rather liked the large but gentle man, but knew that she'd be wasting her time fluttering her eyelashes at him.
"Oh, we put Mr Foster in the smaller relatives room," she told him.
John made his way down the corridor. It had been a long day, his feet were hurting, but that was the lot of the poor downtrodden junior doctor. 'It'll be different when I make consultant,' John comforted himself.
Pushing open the glass-panelled door, John asked, "Mr Foster?" The anxiously waiting brown-haired man shot out of his seat.
"Yes, is Carl alright?" Robbie said pleadingly.
John introduced himself and gave a brief description of what treatment he'd performed. "He's awake, we've managed to raise his temperature to a satisfactory level. He's sprained his ankle, and there'll be a fair-sized bruise on his head, but we're optimistic for a full recovery."
"Oh thank you, thank you." Robbie advanced on John and hugged him fiercely. "If anything had happened to him, I don't, I don't know what I'd have done."
John appreciated the hug. Patients and their relatives were often grateful for the help the medical profession were able to provide. Getting hugged by the cuter ones was certainly a fringe benefit for him.
As Robbie pried himself from the doctor, feeling rather embarrassed at his actions, John smiled. "Don't worry about it." 'Looks like they're a couple. This bloke's a lucky sod.' "We'll need to keep Carl in overnight, just to keep an eye on him, and to make sure that there aren't any complications arising from his concussion."
"Of course," Robbie nodded. "Can I see him?"
"No problem. Please try not to get him too worked up, though. He'll need a lot of rest over the next few days."
"I don't know whether to be relieved or annoyed with him. I told him he needed a new van, but oh no, he's a stubborn so and so . . ."
"Well, save all that until you get him home," John said, smiling.
John lead Robbie to the cubicle where David was ably looking after his patient.
"Car, you had me so worried," Robbie said, advancing to the trolley and kissing his partner on the lips, forgetting momentarily where they were.
Carl stiffened, he wasn't used to displaying his love for another man in front of strangers. "Rob, not here!" Carl said, going very red in the face.
"Oh, don't worry about us," David said, smiling at Carl.
'Yup, they're a couple,' John said to himself. He couldn't help grinning. "Okay, we'll try and find you a bed in our observation ward. We'll need to keep checking on you every half hour or so, I'm afraid you won't get much sleep tonight."
"Would it be better if I paid for a private room for him?" Robbie asked. He didn't like the idea of paying for private treatment, being a firm believer in the National Health Service, which was free.
"No, a private room is expensive," Carl protested.
Robbie turned back to the hospital trolley. "Don't you start on about expense, as soon as I get you out of here I'm gonna, I'm gonna . . ." Robbie remembered the doctor's words about not getting Carl worked up. "Sorry, Car. It's just I want the best for you," Robbie said, treating Carl to the fondest look he could muster.
"Okay, love." Carl gave Robbie an equally warm look in return.
John coughed; Robbie and Carl broke their gaze and looked at him. "No, you'd be much better off stopping in the obs ward, we can keep a much closer eye on you in there."
"Whatever you think is best," Robbie said to the doctor before returning his gaze back to his man.
Peter and Jerry walked with Robbie to the observation ward. "We'll only stop for a minute," Jerry said.
"I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't have been with me," Robbie said.
"I'm sure you'd have done the same for us," Peter said.
The three found Carl sitting up in the end bed of the small ward. Robbie immediately drew the curtains around the bed.
"You had us worried for a few minutes back there, mate," Jerry said, lightly punching Carl's arm.
"Listen, thanks for all you guys did," Carl said, smiling at them.
"As I just said to Rob here, that's what friends are for."
"Well, thanks anyway."
Robbie had wanted to stay with Carl all night, but realised he couldn't.
Once the two were left on their own, Robbie couldn't hide his tears any longer. "Carl, I thought I'd lost you. When you didn't get back at your usual time, I started to worry."
"I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I tried to ring you, but the phone's battery was flat."
"Didn't you use the charger?"
"I left it at the house," Carl admitted.
"Carl, love," Robbie took his man's hand. "I honestly don't want to fight about this, but I want to buy you a new van, the safest that they make. I'm gonna make sure this never happens to you again."
"Thanks, love," Carl said, squeezing Robbie's hand. "I don't mind admitting it was quite frightening out there on my own. But I've never wanted to take charity from you."
"Carl, love. We're a couple, what's mine is yours. What good is all my money if I can't use it to make the man who is the single most important thing in my life safe?"
"I know, I've been pig-headed."
"Yes, you have, but I still love you."
The nurse who had been detailed to take half-hourly neurological observations on her patient, interrupted their conversation. "Sorry, Mr Powers, but I'll have to keep coming in throughout the night to check on you. You won't get much sleep, I'm afraid."
"It's okay, nurse, the doctor told us about that," Robbie said. "I want to know that he's going to be okay. I'll make sure he gets plenty of rest when I get him home."
Carl blushed again at Robbie effectively outing the pair of them, but the nurse had seen it all before. She took Carl's temperature, pulse rate and blood pressure. She then got out a small penlight, and flashed it in Carl's eyes, checking for pupil response. Once the nurse had checked for any signs of abnormal muscle twitching, she departed.
"Carl," Robbie said, not sure if he ought to bring up his next point; Carl was in a vulnerable state, but Robbie thought he might as well strike whilst his lover was being compliant.
"Uh oh, this sounds ominous," Carl said.
"Yeah. Look, Car, your house. It seems silly you still paying rent on it; you spend almost every night with me. Will you think about moving in permanently?"
Carl considered the matter. It was true; he and Ben spent very little time in the small rented house, but he'd held onto it as a bolthole, a retreat if he and Robbie hadn't worked out. But Carl was never surer that his future lay with the man who was anxiously sitting by his bedside, awaiting his decision. "Yes, love. I'll move all my stuff over to your house."
"Our house," Robbie said, overwhelmed. He thought he'd have to put up more of an argument.
Mindful of the fact that Lady was in the car, Robbie reluctantly told Carl that he had to get off. "But I'll be round first thing to spring you."
Carl chuckled, "Can't wait."
The two kissed as quietly as they could, before Robbie took his leave.
The next morning, as Robbie drove Carl home, Carl asked him to go via the place where the van had broken down, so he could retrieve some of his more expensive tools.
Robbie agreed, telling him that he'd arrange for a tow truck to collect the van and send it for scrap. "It's a case of me making sure that you never get behind the wheel of that thing ever again."
"I know, love, thanks," Carl said quietly.
When Robbie's car pulled up in front of the house, Ben came tearing down the steps and proceeded to cling on tightly to his father. "Dad, oh dad, you're alright."
"Yeah, I'll soon be as good as new again." Carl smiled at the enthusiastic greeting he was receiving.
Carl bent down and gave Lady a hero's welcome, however she just seemed to take the praise on the chin, giving the others the impression that it had all just been part and parcel of a days work for your average Blue Merle puppy. Though Carl would always swear that he saw her blue eye twinkle as he petted her.
"I'm sorry, folks, but I didn't get any sleep last night." Carl yawned widely.
"No, me neither," Robbie admitted.
Ben had to reluctantly let go of his father to allow him to go upstairs.
"And why aren't you at school?" Carl turned round on the stairs to ask.
"Dad! How could I go knowing that you were coming home this morning?"
"You knew I was alright, I'm sure Rob's given you all the details."
"I had to see you, dad," Ben said, getting a bit upset that his father didn't understand how much he just had to be at home.
"I'm sorry, Ben. I understand, honestly I do," Carl said, opening up his arms again for another hug.
Ben raced up the stairs to accept the proffered hug. "I know, dad. If you hadn't come back, I, I . . ."
"I'm here, Ben. I'm fine, I'll soon be fit as a fiddle again."
"I know," Ben said, calming down.
"Oh, and me and your Dad Rob have decided on something."
"You're getting a new van?"
"Well, yes, but it isn't that. I'm giving up the old house. Me and you will be living here all the time soon."
Ben's face broke out into the widest grin anyone had ever seen. "Well, it's about time," he said, giggling.
Robbie hadn't got that much sleep the previous night. So he informed Sarah and Ben that he would also take a nap. The fact that he wanted to be close to Carl was an added reason for him going to sleep, too.
"Rob, Rob love." A vision of a heavyset man in his mid-forties swam into Robbie's head.
"Huh?"
"Rob, it's me, my little cutie."
"Patrick?"
"Yes, love, it's me. I just wanted to tell you that I've been keeping my promise to watch over you."
"Patrick, is it really you?"
"Yes, Rob."
"I've missed you so much."
"I know you have. But you've got Carl now. I know you've always had a special thing for him."
"I promise I loved you, though."
"Oh, I know, little cutie, I never doubted that, not for a moment. But as I said, I just wanted to come and tell you that I was still watching over you. It wasn't Carl's time to cross over; he's going to be with you for a long time to come yet. I kept him safe so you could find him."
"Thanks, erm, I don't know what to say. You okay with me loving Carl?"
"Oh, of course I am, precious one. You and me, with Carl, too, will be reunited again, I'll wait and keep a space for you."
"Patrick, I didn't tell you often enough, but I love you, I love you so much."
"I know." The image of Patrick grew faint.
"I love you, I love you. Please don't go," Robbie called out.
"Rob?" Carl shook Robbie awake. "I'm not going anywhere, love. I'm safe, I survived, remember?"
Robbie had a strange look in his eyes, one that Carl couldn't read. "I, I, Carl, I dreamt about Patrick. It was like he was in my head. It was so real."
"Oh?" Carl didn't know what to say. He thought that Robbie was just over-tired.
"Please, Carl." Robbie took his man's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "You have to believe me. He honestly was there. He said it wasn't your time yet. He said, he said," Robbie swallowed. "He said that he watched over you when you were out on the moor. He said that he kept you safe so I could find you."
"Right." Carl was at a loss. He didn't believe in dead people coming back into their lover's dreams. But there was no doubting Robbie's sincerity. "Okay Rob, love. You try and get some more sleep. You didn't get frightened, did you?"
"Oh no, Patrick would never hurt me."
"Okay." Carl was a bit uncomfortable.
"He said that he's waiting for me, and we, including you, will be all together one day."
Carl pulled a face. "Okay, sweetheart. Try and get some more rest." 'He's always been a bit sensitive, but I think he's over-doing it now.'
"Okay, I will. But Car," Robbie fixed his lover with a penetrating look. "I've never lied to you, it honestly happened."
"I know, sweetheart. Please try and get back to sleep." Carl tightened his arms around his lover; Robbie snuggled into the embrace.
It took Carl a little longer to settle. 'I thought I was the one who had got hit on the head,' he thought as he watched his lover sleep.
To be continued.
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