Friends and Anger 3.

He’d been reading a very old book in its original and ancient language while listening to a favourite Ella Fitzgerald album on vinyl in the background. He can’t stand CDs because they always chop off the high and low-end frequency notes to cram it onto the CD. They think nobody will notice, but he does. With some stuff like Ella, that’s exactly where the cream is.

He got the call from the hospital on the landline. That number was only for personal stuff; everything else was mobie and usually tossed into the river after its first and only use. A woman had been found beaten up and unconscious in the street that evening and in her purse was one of those next of kin cards she’d carefully filled in with what he was sure was her almost calligraphic writing. He knew straight away it was her. She could write the briefest of notes very slowly, but beautifully. There’d be no mistaking her hand.

She’s alive though?


How bad is it?

I’m not qualified to say.

Which hospital is she in?

She supplied the name and had barely finished the words when the phone got slammed down and he was on his way with Ella left neglected and spinning on the turn table.

He’s sitting beside her bed and holding her hand. She’s unconscious with her head heavily bandaged with a lot of padding over the left side of her face. Her hand is small, petite and delicate, the skin is almost transparent. There’s some ugly defensive wound bruising on the back of it. It’s all his fault. He knew something like this was coming and should have acted quicker. He leans down and kisses it.

He resolves. If she can just get through this, he’ll finally declare his love of her and tell her of his fears all around doing something like that, and why he’s always held back. A little bit of the honesty for a change, rather than the reflexive evasiveness she’s always resented from him from the very beginning. The thought of losing her is breaking his heart. Pull through it kid, I’m going to ensure you’ll never be in this situation again.

Some medical dork appears. Twats like that he doesn’t need his peripheral vision to spot and dismiss as a non threat.

Who’re you? you’re well outside visiting hours.

There’s a penny dropping moment. Medical dork realises there’s an ominous strength in the room. That combination of distress, threat and wanting to lash out at somebody anybody means getting out of that room in one piece could be a problem. Play it careful, very bloody careful, he thinks. Why the hell had he shut the door behind him. Never do that again.

The question is totally ignored as he kneads her hand. He hasn’t even glanced in medical dork’s direction.

What’s the prognosis?

There’s some thorax damage.

I know, I can read that chart hanging at the bottom of her bed. Broken ribs, but no bone penetration into her lungs. It’s the head trauma I’m more concerned about. Upper or lower ocular bone damage?


Optic nerve damage?

We won’t know for sure until she wakes up.

Did you artificially induce this coma or is it natural?


Brain trauma, swelling? Damage?

We really wont know until she comes out of it.

The last time he’d had a clinical grilling as direct as this, he was a junior doctor and it was being done by a senior consultant. Just who the fuck is this guy anyway? They share a knowledge of human anatomy and trauma few ordinary people have, but for very different reasons.

Manannon turns to swivel his eyes to look at him for the first time. There’s a dark resolve in those eyes as he carefully examines medical dork for the first time. He’s making what is always the toughest decision for him; who to trust. Steady looks are exchanged, but medical dork passes the test.

What’s your name?

Doctor Summers.

What’s your name?


You will look after her for me won’t you, he asks. There’s something plaintive, honest and vulnerable in the voice.

Suddenly all the threat has been backed off.

I’ll do my very best for her as I do for all patients entrusted to my care.

Silence, no response.

Trust me, I’ve got her. The sincerity is there in his voice.

Please look after her Phillip, I have some things I need to attend to. I’ll be back later.


He puts her hand back under the covers, gently pats it, stands up and leaves the room. Medical guy thinks it was like having a smouldering volcano about to blow walking around him to make its way out of the room. There’s going to be a new arrival in Accident & Emergency fairly shortly he thinks, but he’s got it totally wrong.

There’s going to be a new arrival at the morgue that very night.


Click here for all currently written chapters of Friends and Anger.

Click her for other Pointman fiction.

7 Responses to “Friends and Anger 3.”
  1. 1957chev says:

    OMG…. Somebody has to stop him!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Juliet 46 says:

      I agree – stop the barsteward who beat her up!! This is one of the best pieces of fiction (I hope it’s fiction) I have read in a long, long while. Thank you Pointman, you are a superb writer, saying more in a few words than others say in a novel. Can’t wait for the next chapter.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. spetzer86 says:

    I just have a small request. I’d like this bound with about 450-650 other pages with similar text with an 8 point font.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Tina says:

    I can’t wait to read the rest!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Patrick healy says:

    Yes, he is good, but then with Irish genes why wouldn’t he?


  5. hoppers says:

    Hope this is fiction, but suspect it’s not or at least close to a real event.

    All Alpha Males have been in a similar situation, haven’t we Pointman. Mine was at Charing Cross station years ago, when I suddenly found myself in a totally unexpected nasty situation and rescued a young lady in distress who I didn’t know from Adam from a predator.

    The young lady in question rewarded me with a peck on the cheek.

    Is this yours?


  6. Fiona says:

    It’s too well observed to be fiction. I did the abuse trip as a younger woman. Pointman could get himself into deep trouble answering any questions, so he wont.


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