Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (17) Copper Beech Farm (Part 08)
Anthony spent half an hour listening to Lynda explaining why a relationship between her and the Doctor was a non-starter.
After he watched Lynda drive off he drew all the curtains, turned on the lights then he went into the kitchen and boiled the kettle.
He made two cups of tea and took them upstairs, Charlotte was still sleeping so he put her cup on the night stand and settled himself into the armchair in the corner, which was probably the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat in.
Charlotte kept drifting in and out of sleep while he passed the time away on his laptop.
After an hour his mobile rang, he could see it was Lynda so he answered it.
“Hi Lynda” he said
“Hi” she responded “how’s the patient?”
“Sleeping” he replied
“No I’m not” interrupted Charlotte and drifted off again
“How’s her temperature?” Lynda asked
“No change” he replied
After a few more minutes she said goodbye and promised to ring again the next day.
It was about 2 am when he woke up in the armchair after a short doze just in time to see Charlotte coming out of the bathroom.
“What are doing?” he asked
“I needed the loo” she replied
“But I’m here to help” he said
“You were asleep” she said “and I don’t need help to pee”
Anthony helped her back into bed and gave her a drink of water before settling her down.
“Do you want something to eat” he asked
“I’m not hungry” she said
“You should try and eat something” he insisted “how about some soup?”
“No I’m really not hungry” she answered
“What about a drink?” he asked
“I think my fever is getting worse” she said fanning herself at the same time so Anthony put his hand to her forehead.
“Could I just have another cup of tea” she asked quietly and sank back into the pillows.
“Of course you can?” He said but she never heard the answer.
He took the dirty cups away and did the washing up before taking two fresh cups upstairs.
After her cup of tea Charlotte said she felt a little better but ten minutes later she drifted back off into a fitful sleep.
He touched her forehead and it was still burning hot but although the room didn’t feel cold she was shivering so he pulled the throw up over the top of the duvet.
He slept again in the uncomfortable armchair in his bedroom and woke up about 4 am with pins and needles in his arm.
He gingerly picked up his dead arm with his unaffected hand while life flooded painfully back into it.
Having successfully restored blood flow to his stricken limb he walked downstairs to the kitchen.
He waited for the kettle to boil and made himself a mug of Milo and went back upstairs and she was still restlessly murmuring in her sleep.
He drank his Milo and settled back into the armchair from hell and dosed off again.