The Thousand Smiles of Nicholas Goring (18 page)

Robin looked like he was about to fall over himself, or fall onto Nicholas – and Vittorio was one step ahead of Dave there, too – Vittorio suddenly slid an arm around Robin's waist to secure him and spun around with his momentum to keep him clear. All the while, Vittorio was calmly explaining the situation, giving Nicholas's name, and even that of his neurologist.

Dave's attention returned to the only place it belonged.

Nicholas moaned miserably, clutching at his head, and then one eye peered up at Dave through his fingers, blearily, warily.

"Help's on the way," Dave reassured him. "Hang on, all right? Help is on the way."

Nicholas tried to say something, maybe only Dave's name, maybe something important, and Dave tried desperately to read it in his eyes instead. When he couldn't, Dave resorted to the only words he knew to say.

"Hang in there, Nicholas. Stay with me, all right? Help will be here very soon, I promise."

There was the sound of running feet as others gathered, urgent questions, Robin's distraught sobs and pleas, and above all the sound of Vittorio's calm commanding voice. Thank God for Vittorio. It turned out that Dave wasn't much use after all, so thank God for Vittorio.

Nicholas's eyelids drooped a little, and maybe he wanted to escape the pain, but Dave was determined to keep him awake and aware. "Stay with me, Nicholas, don't leave me, all right?"

Dave eased Nicholas into a more comfortable position, cradling him gently, supporting his poor head, making sure he could breathe.

"I know it hurts. I know it hurts, but I love you," Dave said. "I love you so much, I know you know that, I know you love me, oh God I know it hurts but God please don't leave me …"

Nicholas was looking up at him rather piteously – and then, horribly, his expression slid away and he became blank. Not even peaceful; just blank.

"Please don't leave me,
please
– I'll do
anything
–"

There were sirens.

"Help's coming. D'you hear that? Help's coming. Hang on, Nicholas. Hang onto me, hang on for me.
Please
."

Then Dave himself had to let go. Firm hands pried Nicholas away from him, and he had to let go. He could be brave enough to do that much, at least. "Aneurysm," he blurted, and was about to say more –

"We've been briefed, sir." The medics were careful but brisk. They established Nicholas was alive. They needed to get him to hospital. That was all. Dave crouched there, watching, but within moments Nicholas was bundled neatly onto a gurney, oxygen mask over his face, eyes closed peacefully as if there were no pain any more and there never had been … Dave's heart wrenched in his chest.

"Sir?" one of the medics asked as they gently hefted Nicholas into the ambulance.

"I'm his husband," Dave said clearly and strongly.

"Come with us, then."

He climbed aboard and sat where they showed him. He rested a hand on Nicholas's shoulder.

At the last moment he thought to look back out through the doors – before they closed he saw Robin sagging in Vittorio's arms, crying his eyes out – and above that was – oddly – Vittorio's smile shining confidently, almost proudly, as if knowing all would be well.

"All will be well," Dave murmured to Nicholas, who surely couldn't hear him. "All will be well," he repeated, knowing that it mattered anyway. "Nicholas – husband – all will be well. I promise."

The ambulance ride was relatively quiet, oddly insulated as they were from the sirens. One of the medics drove with a reassuring economy of effort, while the other sat in the back, monitoring Nicholas, and relaying information to the hospital, occasionally asking Dave questions, all of which he knew the answer to, thank God. He soon discovered that Dr Williams, Nicholas's consulting neurologist, was on a shift at the hospital, and he'd be making ready to receive him. If emergency surgery was required, then it would be someone else undertaking it – but informed by the man Nicholas had chosen and talked with at length.

"Tell him thank you, if you can," Dave asked, as at least one knot of the thousand in his gut relaxed a little.

"Will do," was the medic's reply.

"We're almost there," the driver added.

"Thank you," Dave said again. If this was going to happen, then – short of Nicholas actually having been in the hospital at the time he collapsed – it was happening in almost the best way it could, with the best chances of them all pulling him through. Dave didn't like the fact that Nicholas was unconscious, but at least that meant he wasn't suffering. Dave gently firmed his hold on Nicholas's shoulder, then bent over to press a kiss to that pale forehead, looking bare now with most of the thick dark hair swept off to one side. This was probably the quietest moment they'd have together for some while now. "Nicholas," he whispered – and then he ran out of words, no longer in that urgent place he'd been only moments before, where he'd blurted out any reassuring nonsense or urgent plea that crossed his mind. Dave sighed. "Nicholas …"

Minutes later, an eternity later, they were at the hospital, and Nicholas was being slid out of the ambulance on his gurney – and chaos erupted, though it probably only seemed like chaos because Dave wasn't initiated into the whys and wherefores of what was happening. There was a lot of clipped talk back and forth, cold clinical talk about the man he loved, and at some point in some corridor Dave was held back from following any further. He watched yearningly, drinking in every moment in which he could see his husband, until at last too soon Nicholas was gone, and the nurse who'd held Dave's arm finally released him with a pat, and said, "He's in good hands, Mr Taylor, the very best – and for you, for you there are forms to complete, so very many forms."

Dave dragged his gaze away from the empty corridor, the closed door, and found that he could, after all, summon a weak kind of smile. "Oh good," he responded a bit hollowly.

And the nurse chuckled appreciatively under his breath and led Dave away.

He'd hardly even worked his way through the first two bits of paperwork before Denise, Vittorio and Robin were there. Dave stood, letting everything fall away, and he walked forward into an intense group hug. They all just held each other for a long hard moment, heads tucked in together – but then of course the others wanted news, they needed to know, so they each stepped back a little, just a little, except Robin who clung like a limpet to Dave's side. Dave kept him there with a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"What's happening?" asked Denise. "Is he – ?"

"He's being diagnosed," Dave said, saving her from saying any other kind of D word. "He's in Intensive Care. Dr Williams is with him. There's no visitors allowed, of course."

She looked gobsmacked. "Diagnosed? Don't they
know
? Isn't it
obvious
?"

"Well, no. They have to be sure. No point in doing brain surgery if it turns out to be a migraine."

Denise turned to Vittorio. "But you said –"

Dave didn't want to hear that either. "I know. We all saw it. Looked like a – like a stroke." He swallowed hard over that bitter word. "But when a CT scan confirms that, and confirms the location – then it'll be surgery of one sort or another."

The four of them fell silent contemplating this enormity.

Finally Denise said briskly, "Well, we're here for as long as it takes, all right? Whatever you or Nicholas need, we're here for you."

"Thanks, that's great. That's really great. But it's gonna take a while, and there won't be much to do other than wait."

"That's all right." She left a beat. "They were … hopeful, right?"

"I dunno. No one's said much yet." Dave looked around at the others, and realised he was probably going to end up reassuring them more than being reassured. "Look, I don't like that he was unconscious even in the ambulance, but we got him here quickly – thanks to Vittorio – and nothing worse happened. As far as I know, there's been no complications. So let's go with ‘cautiously optimistic', yeah? That's how his doctor always put it. If we got him here in time – which we did – we could be cautiously optimistic."

Robin sagged heavily against Dave and muttered, "It's my fault, though, isn't it, it's all my fault."

"No," they all soothed. "No, of course not." And Dave asked, "Why would you even think that?"

"Because, you know, I was always arguing with him about – well, you know what. I was always – making him mad."

"It is
not
your fault, Robin. You don't even need to think about going there. We always knew that if this was gonna happen, it was gonna happen, no matter where we were or what was going on."

"I guess," Robin whispered doubtingly.

"I'm just thanking God we weren't out at the waterhole or somewhere, a hundred clicks from help."

Robin nodded, though he lacked conviction.

"What about his family?" asked Vittorio. "When are you going to call them?"

"It's the middle of the night in England. At first I thought I'd give it a couple of hours, cos maybe we'll have some news by then. But then I figured Richard might want to catch the first flight out in the morning, and we should give them as much notice as possible." Dave tightened his hold on Robin for a moment. "What d'you reckon? Do you think your grandfather will want to drop everything and come over right away?"

"Yes." Robin was still wide-eyed and tear-stained, but seemed marginally more comforted.

"Good. Nicholas will like that, too. So we'll do what we can to make that happen." Dave took a breath. What hadn't he thought of yet? There were probably a thousand things, and he wanted to get things sorted as much as he could so that once Nicholas was back in the wards, Dave would be free to just be with him. "Oh. Where are Zoe and Bethan?" he asked.

"At my mother's," Vittorio replied in easy tones. "She loves having them all to herself, so don't worry about them, Dave. You don't have to worry about anything other than you and Nicholas, all right?"

Dave looked at him feelingly. Gratefully. "All right. And please say thanks to Maria for me."

Denise took Robin off to the cafeteria to fetch them all drinks, and Dave took the opportunity to call Simon. It was midday in Australia, which meant it would be three in the morning in England. Simon's habit was to always be up by six, but early starts wouldn't make a three a.m. phone call any easier to deal with. Still, Dave figured they'd expect him to call, under the circumstances.

Dave felt he had himself pretty much together, and he tried to make the phone call as brief, calm and informative as it needed to be. He still must have sounded shaken, though, because Simon ended up reassuring him. "You've done everything we could have wanted for Nicholas, and more besides. Thank you, David."

"Well, there's no call to be thanking me yet. If there ever will be!"

Simon took a breath, as if about to say something before changing his mind. After a moment he said, "I'll go and tell Richard myself now, David, then I'll call you or text you with the details. I'm sure you're right: he'll want to be there with Nicholas just as soon as he can."

"No worries. One of us will come pick him up at the airport. If I'm needed here, it'll be Denise or Vittorio, all right? Just let us know when."

"Oh," said Simon, "and what about Robin? Is Robin all right?"

"Yeah, as much as can be expected. Um … he and Nicholas had been disagreeing about something – I mean, not when it happened, but over the past few days – so Robin's a bit upset about that. Otherwise, he's coping."

"Good. Please give him our love – give everyone our love – and reassure Robin and Nicholas that Richard will be there just as soon as he can."

"No worries," said Dave. And with that they said their farewells and hung up.

Dave took a long breath and tucked the phone away in his pocket. Then he sat back down to do some more paperwork – though he suspected most of it was just a ploy to distract him and keep him out of the way. Although that was proved to be the cynical view when the nurse came to fetch the first completed form, quickly reading through it and verbally double-checking that Nicholas hadn't eaten anything since an early breakfast.

Dave was through the third form and on to the fourth before he thought to ask. "Vittorio."

"Mmm?"

"Why were you smiling? I mean, when we were in the ambulance about to leave. I looked out and you were smiling."

"It's not that I wasn't unhappy about Nicholas," Vittorio began.

"No, I know that." Dave looked at him. "I didn't take it the wrong way. It just made me wonder."

"Well," said Vittorio, settling down into his seat and even now faintly echoing the smile. "I was just remembering how you used to go bright red, like a tomato, every time you called Nicholas your husband or said you were his. So much has changed since then, Dave. So much has changed, and for the better."

Dave nodded, and bent his head over the paperwork again. But he couldn't quite focus on the words or the lines. He frowned over them some more, and tried it without his glasses, but it was hopeless. He put it aside for now.

After a while, in a very small voice, he admitted, "I'd give anything to go back to this morning, and keep things exactly the way they were."

Vittorio nodded, too, and reached for a moment to grasp his hand. "I know, Dave. We all would."

Dr Williams appeared soon after Denise and Robin returned with polystyrene cups of coffee and tea, and bottles of water. Dave stood to meet the neurologist and shake his hand. "Is he all right?" Dave blurted, not bothering with the social niceties.

The slightest pause – which could signify anything – before Dr Williams replied, "There's been no change, no worsening of his condition. May I speak freely?" he asked, with a tactful glance at the others.

"They're family," Dave said. Though he was glad enough when Denise went to put an arm around Robin's shoulders.

"We've done a CT scan, and there has been quite a bleed, I'm afraid, but it's exactly where we'd expect it based on his history. It's as accessible as these things can be, and we've already relieved some of the pressure. But Nicholas is still unconscious, David." And Williams waited for a response.