Page 75 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘…or was it benzene?’ Sylvia said.
‘I promise not to take anything dangerous,’ I said.
‘And if there is anything you need, you only have to ask,’ Sylvia continued. ‘I will make it my number one priority. Ralph always said I could have been a nurse. I would have been a wonderful nurse, if I had ever trained, but my father wouldn’t allow it because of the indelicacy. Men and bed baths, that sort of thing. But I am going back to Brussels later today. I will leave word with the entire staff that you must not be left on your own for a single moment. In case you fall out of bed and break something.’
‘That’s very kind,’ I said with a huge yawn as the tablets began to take effect, ‘but I am going to get up tomorrow and try to get moving again.’
‘Very wise,’ Lucia said. ‘Deep vein thrombosis. Years ago I knew a woman who had a medical episode on a flight I was on from Athens to Bergen. The plane had to divert to Munich, and it was most inconvenient. And it was raining.’
‘Was she all right?’ I asked.
Lucia pulled a face. ‘I think so. When they lifted her out of her seat, a gin bottle fell out of her pocket. Perhaps she was just a nervous traveller.’
‘You said it was vodka the last time you told that story,’ Sylvia protested.
Lucia flapped a dismissive hand at her. ‘Well, whatever it was I’m sure she suffered no more than a headache.’
Sylvia sent me a searching look. ‘Have you still got a headache?’
‘My doctor has advised sleep now, would you mind?’ I said, and the three ladies scuttled around picking up each other’s handbags by mistake and bickering for a few more minutes before they left.
I gave a sigh of relief at being left alone in peace and closed my eyes. Then I realised I needed the loo. How was I going to accomplish this?
I poked my feet off the bed and tried to slide out, all the time my sore shoulder screaming in protest. I slid down and bumped inelegantly onto my bottom, knocking against the bedside table so that the tin of expensive truffles fell off and hit me on the head.
I rested back against the bed behind me and realised to my horror that I didn’t have the strength to pull myself to my feet. In fact, having got down there, I wondered how I was going to make any progress at all. I shuffled forwards around the bed, whimpering with every movement and wondering if I was going to be discovered by the next person to visit me in a heap on the floor.
‘I’ve found something for you to read. What on earth are you doing?’
Mercifully this time it was just Susie, who was standing open mouthed in the doorway clutching two paperbacks.
‘I need to get to the bathroom,’ I said, ‘but I’m a bit stuck. I don’t seem able to pull myself up.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake! Why didn’t you call for some help?’
She came around to scoop me up and pull me back against the side of the bed.
‘I didn’t know who would come, and I don’t think Ceci or Sylvia would have been much use.’
‘You never know, some of those old ladies can be very tough,’ Susie said. ‘Look, if I stand next to you, you can pull yourself up.’
‘I’ll try,’ I said, grabbing hold of her arm. ‘I think the painkillers are working. I’d better get to the loo soon or I’m just going to fall asleep on the floor and wake up in a puddle.’
‘That would not be elegant,’ Susie said. ‘Perhaps if you sit on this rug I can slide you across the floorboards to the bathroom? Or shall I bring you a bucket?’
I clutched at her arm and winced. ‘Don’t make me laugh, it’s agony.’
Little by little, we reached the bathroom, much to my relief. As I stood, bent almost double, washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror.
I looked absolutely terrible, there was no doubt about it. My hair was sticking up at all angles, there was a big graze on the side of my face and possibly the beginnings of a black eye. Added to this dark shadows under my eyes and I looked almost as though I’d been in a bar room brawl. Perhaps it would be best if Paulo didn’t visit me. I should tell Susie to keep him out.
I hobbled back out of the bathroom and found Paulo was there already, helping Susie straighten up my bedclothes.
‘Oh please,’ I said, ‘don’t look at me, I look dreadful.’
Paulo grinned. ‘Not as bad as the time you wrapped your head in bubble wrap and fell down the stairs while you were carrying a pot of blue paint. I know it was a fancy-dress party but I never did understand what you were aiming for.’
Oh God. He did remember.
