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The uniformed policeman, who looked impossibly young, hesitated and looked around before admitting,
‘I don’t know.  But I’m sure they know what they’re doing.  Best to just let them get on with it.’

Kate nodded dumbly, filled with a cold, unspeakable misery;
I really hope they know what they’re doing.  I really fucking hope so.

‘I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal,’ said the policeman awkwardly, looking at her with gentle, compassionate eyes, ‘But if we’re to catch the man who did this we need a description of him as soon as possible.
  All we’ve got is that he was dressed in black and was wearing a balaclava.  But he’ll have ditched that, of course.’

Like Johnny Cash,
thought Kate dazedly,
the man in black.
  And she said in a mechanical tone, ‘That’s all I’ve got too.  He was just a black shadow; I couldn’t make out any details.  Um, he was tall, I could see that.  At least three or four inches taller than me.  Average build.  Dressed all in black, as I said.  And as well as the black Balaclava I think he had black leather gloves.  Though they’ll have blood on them now, of course.’

The po
liceman turned and shrugged towards two others, who nodded and vanished from the office.  Not that the description would be of any help in a crowded city thronged with people wearing dark winter clothes.

The parame
dics finally, and carefully, lifted Morrison onto a stretcher and began slowly moving him out of the office and down the hallway.  There was no urgency, none of the frantic rush from the movies or television; everything seemed slow and calm, even subdued.  And infinitely reassuring.

Kate
followed him out into the hall and watched him disappear down the stairs until the young policeman gently touched her arm and said, ‘I need a few details of what happened here tonight, and I need to know your name, address and your position here.  Do you feel up to it right now or would you rather wait until tomorrow before making a statement?’

Here we go again,
thought Kate dazedly, still in shock in spite of the sugar and caffeine now coursing through her body.  How many policemen had she talked to in the last few days?  Hundreds, it seemed like.  But she described the night’s events for him anyway, speaking in a low, preternaturally calm voice that was her only alternative to screaming.  And screaming and screaming and
screaming.

In an
emotionless voice she told him what had happened, and when she was finished the policeman said, ‘Have you any idea who the assailant might have been?’

Kate shook her head, ‘It could have been anyone
.  Any man, at least.’

‘What about his voice?’

Kate shook her head, ‘He never spoke a word.  He just stood there, looking at me.’  Her throat closed up and her voice tailed away, causing the young policeman to gently take her hand.  Wishing there was a Ban Gardai there to help he asked quietly, ‘This might sound a little melodramatic but do you have any enemies that you know of?  Anyone who might want to hurt you.  You’re a psychiatrist, right?  Could it have been a patient of yours, or an ex-patient?’

Kate actually managed a smile and slowly shook her head, ‘I only have one patient, and it certainly wasn’t
her. 
And all my ex-patients are in Oxford.  I know
why
it happened, though.  It happened because I’m jinxed. 
Cursed
.’

Hot, heavy tears began to slowly trickle down her cheeks, ‘That’s why things like this
keep
happening to me!  It was probably just a passing psychotic who happened to pick on me because I’m cursed.  Being attacked and abused seems to be my destiny in life.’

The young Gardai patted her hand, then released it,
‘Look, you’re upset and that’s perfectly natural.  If you really can’t think of any enemies we can leave this for now.  You can make a formal statement tomorrow.  A good night’s sleep will set you up and might help you think of a possible suspect.  Would you like to be taken home now?  There’s a Ban Gardai on the way if you want to wait for her.  She’ll be happy to spend the night with you if you’ve no family or friends there to look after you.’

Kate shook her head wearily, ‘I’m going to the hospital.
I want to be with Sean tonight.  Even if I’m only allowed to sit in the waiting-room, I want to be there.  It’s the least I can do since he saved my life.’

The policeman smiled, ‘I know.  And you
probably saved
his,
if that’s any comfort.  The paramedics said that if you hadn’t kept your hand on the wound he would almost certainly have died before they got here.’

Kate uttered a half-laugh, half-
sob, ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!  If he hadn’t tried to save me he wouldn’t have been stabbed!  If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t even have been here!’  She looked up at him with haunted eyes, ‘He told me earlier that he was married; has he any children?’

The policeman shook his head, ‘I don’t know.  But if he was married his wife will be alerted as soon as possible, and brought to the hospital.  You can count on that.  We look after our own, don’t you worry.’

Kate got unsteadily to her feet, ‘Can you take me to the hospital now, please?’

The young G
ardai said compassionately, ‘Sure.  And if you want you can have a police escort home afterwards.  Just in case.’

In case he‘s waiting there for me!
thought Kate in sudden panic.  But the fear dissipated almost immediately, being replaced by a great weariness.  And a determination to stay with Morrison until...until he was better.  Until he was better. 
Until he wa
s
BETTER.

    Sean Morrison did not die that night, as Kate had feared, nor the following morning.  She stayed in the hospital throughout those dark, endless hours; hoping and praying and worrying.  And battling a great tidal wave of guilt.  He had been injured because of her; if he died it would be her fault.  It was as simple as that.  Someone else had stabbed him, yes, but he would not even have been in the building but for her.  Neither, for that matter, would his attacker.  And no amount of sophistry about his job and his duty could alter those facts, or assuage her guilt.  Guilt not just because he had been injured saving her, but because she was
gla
d
he had rescued her; even at the cost of his present suffering she was grateful that he had come along.  But at no greater cost;
not
at the cost of his own life.  Kate was no hero but she would have preferred to die herself rather than have another die in her stead.

As she was not a family member they would not even give her reports on Morrison’s progress, so she
restlessly paced the waiting-room with a white face and staring eyes while the emergency team operated on him, dependent for updates on the Ban Gardai who had appeared from nowhere to sit with her.  And she waited in
dread,
hardly able to breathe and wholly unable to think, every fibre of her being focused on the Intensive Care Unit where the staff battled for his life.

At about 2 a.m. Morrison’s wife, Noleen, arrived at the hospital from their home in Blanchardstown, accompanied by Garda Moore, the you
ng patrolman who had brought Kate to the hospital earlier.  He had volunteered to be part of the Trauma team who broke the news to Mrs. Morrison, and had subsequently offered her a lift to the hospital in spite of the fact that his shift had ended two hours earlier; as he had told Kate, the Garda look after their own.  He entered the waiting-room with the pale and red-eyed but unweeping woman on his arm and, after seeing her to a chair in the company of a female officer, made a beeline for Kate.  ‘Miss Bennett, are you sure you should still be here?’ he asked with apparently genuine concern, ‘Wouldn’t it be better for you to go home and get some rest?’

Why is it,
wondered Kate,
that policemen always called you Miss?  Never Ms.? Women’s Lib seemed to have bypassed the police forces of almost every country, one of the last great bastions of male chauvinism and almost total male dominance. 
She sighed and closed her eyes briefly, wondering if she were losing her mind.  Mind you, even such drivel was preferable to thinking about the man who might well have exchanged his life for hers.  And infinitely preferable to thinking about his clearly suffering wife. 
Thank God she hadn’t brought any children with her.

She nodded tiredly towards her hollow-eyed fellow vigilant, who was now being comfo
rted by the Ban Gardai, ‘That’s Sean’s wife, yes?’

Moore gave her an uncomfortable glance, ‘Er, yes.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Noleen.’

‘Have they any children?’

‘Really, it would be best if you went home and got some sleep,’ he said kindly, ‘You’re not doing anyone any good sitting here, least of all yourself.’

‘Have they any children?’ repeated Kate, her face and voice set and expressionless.

‘Two,’ said Moore reluctantly, ‘Two boys, aged five and three.’

‘What are their names?’

Moore sighed in resignation, ‘Tom and Vincent.’

Kate nodded and silently walked over to where Noleen was sitting in company with a Ban Gardai.  She was a tall woman, with coarse black hair and a plain, reddish face.  And very bright –if right now fixed and staring- blue eyes whose gaze Kate found it hard to meet.  Kate stood in front of her and said painfully, ‘Mrs. Morrison?  My name is Kate Bennett.’  Kate’s voice wobbled slightly and tears started rolling down her cheeks, ‘I... Your...your husband saved my life tonight.  He was stabbed trying to save me.  And I wanted to tell you that I am so, so sorry...’

Kate never got to finish the
sentence.  In front of her Noleen Morrison’s face crumpled as she subsided into helpless tears.  Kate broke down too, and dropped into the chair beside her, and the two women instinctively put their arms around each other and clung to one another for support, each taking comfort from the other’s presence, and even from the other’s fear and suffering.  And all the while Kate kept sobbing brokenly, over and over,
‘I’m so, so sorry.’

After some time the tears finally stopped and the two women simply sat together in
silence, tightly gripping each other’s hands, with Kate infinitely grateful that not one word of reproach had passed the other’s lips
;
she really wouldn’t have been able to take it.  In fact, after both had regained a measure of control, Noleen had tried to comfort
her
by saying, ‘Sean’s a Gardai, he takes risks every day.  It’s part of the job and he
loves
his job.  I know him better than anyone, and I
know
he would rather risk being stabbed himself than have arrived a minute later and found you dead.  You can’t blame yourself for the act of some maniac.’  She smiled through her tears, ‘Besides, Sean’s tough.  If anyone can survive this, he will, don’t you worry.’

Kate did not reply, understand
ing that Noleen was really trying to convince herself.  She merely closed her eyes in misery, overwhelmed by the woman’s unthinking generosity; Sean had married the right person, another just as strong and brave as he was.

They sat together
, united in fear, for what seemed an eternity but was in fact about six hours, until finally a doctor came and informed Noleen that her husband had passed the critical stage and was now to be considered out of immediate danger.  He spoke on for some time but Kate never heard another word of his discourse, and doubted if Sean’s wife did either;
out of immediate danger
was enough for both of them.  Relief dispelled the tension with an almost audible
snap
and the whole room suddenly seemed brighter and airier as the two women exchanged tearful but joyous smiles.

At that point Garda Moore, who had stayed by their side
all night, occasionally bringing them cups of tea that were left untouched, approached Kate and said firmly, ‘Listen, enough is enough!  Go home and get some rest.  Don’t forget, we’re going to need an official statement later today, and you need some sleep before the heavies from the detective branch start grilling you.’

The Women’s Liberation movement might have passed him by but a
t least he was sensitive enough not to suggest to Noleen that
SHE
go home,
Kate thought.  And good-hearted enough to miss a night’s sleep for a comrade he had never met and two women he didn’t know.

Surprisingly, Noleen patted her hand and said, ‘He’s right, you know. There’s no point
in you sitting here any longer.  Go home and get some sleep.  And don’t worry about Sean; I told you he was tough.  And thank you.’

Kate shook her head, fresh tears running down her cheeks
at the other’s generosity, ‘Don’t be silly, I didn’t do anything.’ 
Except almost get your husband killed.

Noleen managed a smile, ‘
You care, and that’s something.  And just having you here was a comfort.’  She included Moore and the Ban Garda in her gaze, ‘And the two of you, too.  I’ll never be able to thank you both enough.’