When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love.(7)

I am embarrassed that our private issues are about to become public knowledge to the staff here. Leo would say it doesn’t matter, and that the only reason I care at all is that I have a chronic need for approval. He’d probably be right about that – I feel shame at the looming judgement I’ll receive from the hospital staff, even before they know the truth about us at all.

I leave the room, but I stay near to the door so that I can eavesdrop. Leo might think he wants privacy, but he has a serious head injury and whether he likes it or not, I’m still his wife and his only support in Rome. Until I’m sure that he’s fine, I’m not going anywhere.

‘How are you feeling, Mr Stephens?’ I hear the sounds of movement, and then the whir of Leo’s bed being adjusted.

‘I’m okay.’ There’s silence for a moment, and I hear Leo slurping at his water. ‘How long have I been here?’

‘Almost two weeks,’ Edmondo says, and there’s the sound of intermittent typing as he updates Leo’s notes on the computer.

‘I have a head injury?’

‘Your skull was fractured.’

‘And why is my throat sore?’

‘From the respirator, it will get better in time.’

‘It’s hard to speak.’

‘It was a pretty significant injury, Mr Stephens. I’m impressed you can speak at all.’

‘Molly – how long has she been here?’

I bite my lip at the ice in Leo’s tone. How has it come to this? I have flown halfway around the world to be there with him. Surely that earns me some warmth?

‘The whole time, sir. She arrived the day after you did.’

‘And – do you know why?’

‘Why what, Mr Stephens?’

‘Why she is here?’ Leo says. His words are clipped with impatience. I frown and lean closer to the door, wondering if I’ve misheard him. Surely he would at least understand why I came. Despite everything, I know he’d have done the same for me if our circumstances were reversed.

‘You know who she is?’ Edmondo asks.

‘Of course I do, she’s Molly Torrington,’ Leo says. I note that he’s already dropped the ‘Stephens’ off my surname and I flush. Poor Edmondo, I should have at least warned him. ‘I know who she is, I just don’t know why she is here.’

‘What’s your name, Mr Stephens?’

‘I know my name.’

‘Humour me, sir.’

‘Leonardo David Stephens.’

‘And your date of birth?’

‘March tenth, 1975.’

‘And do you know the date?’

‘How long did you say I was in a coma?’

‘A week and a half, sir.’

Leo doesn’t hesitate. He answers the nurse with complete confidence. ‘Then it must be February.’

I almost second-guess myself when I hear this response. I’m exhausted and I may have lost track of time a little – but I know that it’s not February.

‘And the year?’

There’s a long pause, and the longer it stretches, the more anxious I feel. After a moment or two, Edmondo gives Leo a gentle prompt.

‘Please, humour me, Mr Stephens. It is just procedure to check such things when someone wakes from a serious injury.’

‘It’s 2011,’ Leo says the words with an impatient sigh. I wait for Edmondo to correct him, but there is only the sound of typing, then the screech of the keyboard tray being returned to its home beneath the computer.

‘Why don’t you rest now?’ Edmondo says. ‘The doctor will be in soon.’

‘I’m just confused why she’s even here,’ Leo says. ‘I hardly know her. She was talking about my family too. Something’s not right.’

‘I will ask her to wait outside until we figure out what is going on.’

My heart is racing as I hear Edmondo approaching the door and by the time he joins me in the corridor, I’m shaking all over.

‘You were listening?’ He chastises me quietly as he closes the door behind him.

‘What was that? What was he talking about?’

‘His injury is severe; he is confused. It is normal.’

‘Normal?’ I repeat the word incredulously.

‘Well, maybe not normal.’ Edmondo concedes. ‘But it is nothing unexpected. The doctor will look him over.’

Edmondo’s calmness is instantly irritating. I can barely stand still – I feel nervous tension all the way down to my toes.

‘Will it happen now?’

‘I think Craig Walker is here, Molly. I will ask him to do a cognitive review as soon as he can, okay? But because Leo is so confused, it’s best that you wait out here until he does.’

Craig Walker is an ex-pat American ICU specialist and he has been a godsend since my arrival – checking on Leo often. He sometimes even stops by at the end of his shift to explain procedures to me. I pace the hall while I wait, and when he approaches I greet him as if he’s a long-lost relative.

‘Did Edmondo tell you?’

‘Of course,’ he says. He has a clipboard under his arm and he pulls it out to show me a questionnaire. ‘I’m going to do a cognitive assessment on Leo now, and you are going to take yourself for a walk to get something to eat and some fresh air. I’ll be a while.’