felt as if it was being pierced by a red-hot shaft of steel but he knew it wouldn’t do to let Rees see how badly he felt. Rees wouldn’t want to know those details anyway.
‘See if you can find out how Tracy is,’ he asked his uncle. ‘I’ve asked, but they keep telling me to wait.’
Rees, as usual, looked immaculate in a dark suit and white shirt, regimental tie. His moustache was neatly trimmed and he looked as if he’d just shaved, yet John knew that no real effort was needed to present this image to the world; Rees was just that sort of person.
‘I’ve already asked,’ Rees said, lowering himself on to the edge of a moulded plastic chair.
He kept his spine very straight as if to avoid contact with the cheap material. ‘They’ve managed to get hold of her mother, who is on her way here, but a nurse says the girl doesn’t appear to be seriously hurt.’
He looked through a gap in the green curtains around the cubicle. ‘The doctors are too busy to see anyone, apparently.’ Then he turned back to John. ‘Did you see the man who hit you?’
The question sounded polite, but it was evident from the sharp expression in his eyes that he was intensely interested.
‘I didn’t see his face, just his feet,’ John murmured as his neck throbbed viciously again. ‘I’m not going to stay in here, Rees.’
‘You’ll do whatever the doctors think best,’ his uncle said stiffly and John realized that they were both whispering, as if unseen ears were listening on the other side of the surrounding curtains. Someone was groaning quite close by and hurrying feet in soft-soled shoes squeaked on polished floor tiles; instruments clattered into a steel tray and trolleys swished by, while all around were the soft tones of nurses and doctors in other cubicles and the usual hospital smells.
‘I hate bloody hospitals,’ John muttered, trying to stop the questions that were zipping through his mind. ‘Who hit me and how the hell did he get into the building?’ he muttered, trying to lift himself up higher on the pillows. ‘And why would anyone want to get into my office?—I don’t have anything worth stealing.’
‘The police think he slipped in behind you. The cleaning woman was outside apparently and she’d left the doors open. All those offices get visitors and she wasn’t to know what he was up to.’
‘So much for the security of an entry phone,’ John said, resting his head back gingerly on pillows that seemed to be lined with stiff water-proofed material.
‘They’ll be asking questions and no doubt someone will give a description of him,’ Rees said. He shifted on the chair and John realized that his uncle was ill at ease in these surroundings, or perhaps he was just irritated by the need to be there at all. John felt the usual twinge of guilt, that somehow he’d interrupted Rees’s plans for the day and that now his uncle was counting the lost minutes. Probably he was entirely wrong, but for as long as he could remember he’d never been able to read his uncle’s mind because the man was so private. To make amends, he tried to be constructive.
‘Rachel,’ he said. ‘She must have seen the man.’
Then the curtains were pushed back and a young Chinese lady doctor moved to take his pulse.
‘I’m Dr Wu. Your X-ray is all right, no fractures, no need for stitches.’ She smiled slightly as if she could hear her own fractured English. ‘And you can go as long as you promise to take it easy for a day or two. Head injuries are not to be taken lightly and there is a degree of concussion.’
John assured her that he wouldn’t do anything too energetic.
‘I’m visiting my sister for a lazy weekend.’
‘That would be sensible, but before you leave a policeman wants a word with you.’
And Rees immediately stood up. ‘I’ll go and see if I can find out anything about Tracy,’ he said, and moved smartly through the curtains.
There were two policemen. One looked John over while the other reached into his pocket for a notebook; they both looked as if they did this sort of interview regularly and the questions were perfunctory and a repeat of those John had already answered at his office.
‘No, I didn’t see the man’s face,’ he told them. ‘And there’s nothing worth stealing in my office.’
‘Your wallet?’ the man asked and John struggled to pat his pockets, then reached in to produce it.
‘I don’t think there’s anything missing,’ he said, flicking through the compartments. ‘That’s strange, surely?’
But the policeman with the notebook snapped it shut and tucked it back into his pocket.
‘He was disturbed by your young lady and both she and the cleaning woman got a good look at him.’
Relief flooded through John. ‘Tracy’s all right, then?’
The man nodded. ‘A bump on the head. She’ll be fine. She says he was bent over you when she came from the back room and he lashed out at her. She probably scared the shit out of him and he acted without thinking, but she was very lucky to get off so lightly. Even so, they’re keeping her in overnight. We got the best description from the old girl, the cleaner.’ And now the policemen exchanged amused glances. ‘She said he had a big bum, that it “caught your eye because the rest of him wasn’t fat”. Actually, that’s the sort of detail that is really helpful … now we just have to find a five-foot-ten villain with a big bum.’ And they left with a promise to let him know what developed, but John thought they didn’t sound too hopeful.
Rees came back after the constables had left. ‘The girl’s going to be all right. Look, why go to Gwen’s? Come to Elmwood for the weekend.’
‘Because I promised David I’d be there for his birthday,’ John said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ His legs felt shaky as he went with Rees to the car, and his head felt as if it would be easily disconnected from his neck, so he didn’t argue when Rees drove to the High Street, to the rear of the Kramer building where there was private parking for the staff. They took the lift to the small flat that Rees had on the top floor which they both used quite often. There was only a large bedroom with a double bed, a small sitting-room, a kitchen and a bathroom, but Rees had furnished it with nice pieces and the décor was discreet, in Rees’s style. The carpets were thick and the flat was so high above the street that the traffic sounds were hardly noticeable. It was a haven that Rees often used when he decided not to go home to Elmwood, his country house, and John kept spare clothes there so that he could change if he was going out for the evening and didn’t want to rush home.
‘I’ll make some coffee,’ Rees said.
‘And I’ll get changed—the blood has dried on the back of this shirt and it’s rubbing my neck.’
‘Do you always dress like that for work?’ Rees wore a slight frown which was a distinct mark of disapproval, and John shrugged and looked down at his jeans.
‘It’s comfortable and makes the clients feel comfortable.’
Rees sniffed.
John took the time to shower too, and as he dried himself he noticed how gloomy the room was. He walked to the window that was several floors above the busy street below, looked at the
