‘Orlando, it’s Star. Can you hear me?’
There was no response, and as I sat there and dug out my mobile, I dialled 999 and told the woman at the other end what had happened as succinctly as I could. She asked me then if the injured party had any medical conditions, and I suddenly remembered.
‘Yes, he has epilepsy.’
‘Right. An ambulance will be with you shortly.’ Then she talked me through how I should put Orlando in the recovery position. I did my best to follow her instructions. Orlando might have been thin, but there was a whole six feet of him trapped in a tiny space at the bottom of a staircase. Thankfully, a few minutes later, I heard a siren approaching and looked up to see a blue light flashing outside the shop window.
‘He’s over here.’ I waved to the paramedics as they came in. ‘I can’t wake him . . .’
‘Don’t worry, miss, we’ll sort him,’ said one of the paramedics, as I stood up to give them room to get to their patient.
As they checked him over, attaching a probe to his finger to monitor his stats, I dialled Mouse’s number. It went to voicemail, and I explained as calmly as I could what had happened.
‘He’s coming round, miss. He’s taken a nasty bump to his head, so we’re going to take him on the van to get him checked out at hospital. Want to hop on?’
As they lifted Orlando onto the waiting stretcher, I grabbed the keys to the shop back from the drawer, locked up behind me and followed the paramedics to the ambulance.
A few hours later, Orlando was sitting up in bed, looking dazed and pale, but at least he was conscious. A doctor had explained to me that Orlando had had an epileptic seizure and had almost certainly tripped on the stairs, knocking himself out.
‘He has concussion from the thump he took, but his brain scan came back normal. We’ll keep him in for observation overnight, and he should be well enough to be allowed home tomorrow.’
‘Sorry,’ came a croaky voice from the bed.
‘Orlando, you don’t have to apologise.’
‘You’ve been wonderful to me, and now you’ve saved my life.’ A small tear rolled down his cheek. ‘Eternally grateful, Miss Star, eternally grateful.’
He slept then and I went outside for some fresh air, and texted CeCe to tell her that my employer had had an accident, and that I might be home late as I was with him at the hospital. Just as I was preparing to go back inside, my mobile rang.
‘Star, apologies. I’ve been out on that damned tractor all day, and there’s never any bloody signal here,’ Mouse said, his voice tense. ‘I’m at Ashford station now. I’ll see you in an hour or so. How is he?’
‘Feeling pretty sorry for himself, but okay.’
‘I’ll guarantee you that he hasn’t been taking his medication properly. Perhaps it was in protest against me selling the bookshop. I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘I don’t think Orlando would knowingly put his life at risk, Mouse.’
‘You don’t know him like I do. Anyway, thank God you found him when you did.’
‘I’m going back inside now. See you later.’ I snapped my mobile off and walked back through the hospital doors.
Orlando was moved to a private room on a ward, and once he was settled and the nurses had completed their checks, I was allowed to see him.
‘He’s all yours,’ one of the nurses muttered as she passed me on the way out.
‘What have you been up to, Orlando?’ I asked him as I sat down.
‘Who, me? I simply asked if they had any Earl Grey rather than the dishwater they pretend is tea. And there’s no cake, apparently.’
‘It’s way past three o’clock.’
‘I suppose it is,’ he replied, surveying the blackness outside the window. ‘My stomach must have lost two hours in the day due to my . . . incident. It is obviously suffering from jet lag.’
‘Probably.’
‘I thought you’d gone home and deserted me,’ Orlando added.
‘I had to make some calls. Mouse is on his way here to see you.’
‘Then I shall inform the nurses that I do not wish him to be allowed entry.’
‘Orlando, he’s your brother!’
‘Well, he needn’t bother on my account. But I’m sure you’ll be glad to see him.’
I remained silent. Even though Orlando was behaving like a spoilt child, I was secretly pleased that he seemed to be back to his old self.
‘I do apologise, Miss Star,’ he said eventually. ‘I am aware that this entire situation has nothing to do with you. And that my words to you the other day were cruel and unnecessary. The truth is, I’ve missed your company. In fact, today I was just on my way upstairs to telephone you, beg your forgiveness and ask you if you’d return to work. Unless, that is, you’ve taken the job at High Weald.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘You’ve found other employment already?’
‘No. My loyalty lies with you.’
‘Even though, in my despair, I acted hastily and dismissed you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, there’s a thing.’ Orlando managed a weak smile. ‘So, will you come back to the bookshop? Or at least return for the time it takes to man the book “ship” until it is well and truly sunk?’
‘Yes. I’ve missed it – and you.’
‘Well, well, have you really? Goodness, Miss Star, how kind of you to say so. You are a veritable angel of mercy to all of us. And, of course . . .’
He paused, and closed his eyes for so long I worried that he’d lost consciousness again.
‘Yes, Orlando?’ I prompted him.
His eyes flickered open. ‘I understand that it would be selfish of me to keep you to myself. When others – specifically Rory – need you. I have decided that I must put his happiness before my own, and share you.’ He closed his eyes again, and lifted a weary hand. ‘You have my blessing to go to High Weald whenever it is deemed necessary.’
There was a brief knock on the door and the nurse appeared.
‘I have your brother here to see you, Mr Forbes.’
‘Let him in. He just wants to see that you’re okay,’ I said before Orlando could open his mouth to resist. He stared at me, then nodded like an obedient child. If he’d been surprised at my firm reprimand, he wasn’t the only one.
‘Hello, old chap. How are you feeling?’
Mouse entered the room and walked towards us. He looked exhausted – far worse than his brother in the hospital bed.
‘No better for seeing you,’ Orlando replied tersely and turned his head away to look out of the window.
‘He’s on the mend then.’ Mouse gave me a wry look.
‘Yes,’ I said, standing up to offer him the chair.
‘Really, don’t leave on my brother’s account,’ Orlando remarked acidly.
‘I really should be going.’
‘Of course,’ Mouse said.
‘Behave yourself, or at least try to.’ I smiled as I kissed Orlando on the forehead, avoiding the bandage taped to his wound. I picked up my rucksack and walked towards the door. ‘Let me know how the patient is,’ I said to Mouse.
‘I will. And thanks yet again, Star. You’re a hero.’