The Ivy Lessons (15 page)

‘Just clim
b on the bloody train
,’ Ryan says. ‘You’re so slow. I’m not going to lose.’

‘Ryan,
please
. There’s no room’ I’m terrified the doors will shut between our arms and the handcuffs, and the train will carry Ryan away on one side, and drag me along on the outside, ripping my arm off in the process.

‘I’ll make room,’ says Ryan, pushing people out of the way, and pulling me onto the train just as the doors close.

The doors slam into each of my arms, but I grip the bucket tightly this time. It’s so embar
ra
ssing. Then the doors reopen an
d I squash myself into the other passengers, apologising the whole time
.

‘Rag week,’ Ryan
shouts. ‘Give us your donations.’

Not surprisingly, no one is happy to part with any money after what they’ve just seen, especially since it’s so clear Ryan is very drunk.

We wander up and down the train for the next hour, but Ryan certainly doesn’t have a winning manner and every time I ask anyone for money, he shouts: ‘Be quiet, slave.’

When Ryan’s beer runs out, he drags me up to the street so he can find a supermarket.

He’s pleased to see a Tesco Metro, and pulls me into the cold drink aisles, throwing cans of Stella into the crook of his arm.

‘I need the toilet
,’ I say. ‘Can we find somewhere nearby?’

‘What are you drinking, slave?’

‘Just a coke,’ I say.

‘I order you to drink
something alcoholic
,’ says Ryan.

‘Well I won’t,’ I reply.

‘Fine. If you won’t get drunk with me, no toilet breaks.’

‘Oh for goodness sakes,’ I say. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I tug at the plastic handcuffs but they’re surprisingly firm. I’d need a pair of pliers to break them open.

‘You’re stuck with me,’ says Ryan smugly. He pauses for a moment, and blinks in a languid, drunk way. Then he appears to have a change of heart. ‘Okay, fine, have a coke.’

‘Can we
find a toilet after this?’

‘Yes.’

He takes the drinks towards the till, then pulls me into a nearby pub and up some stairs to a ladies toilet.

‘This is embarrassing
,’ I mutter, going into a cubicle and closing the door over the plastic handcuff chain.

‘I won’t peak, I p
romise,’ says Ryan
.

I hear two drinks being opening, and roll my eyes. ‘
Ryan, w
e’re never going to win if you’re falling all over the place.’ This is awful. It’s like being chained to a six-year old child.

There’s a fizzing sound, and I wonder if Ryan has spilt his drink.

‘Are you managing okay in there one handed?’ Ryan asks. ‘You don’t want me to wipe for you?’

‘Oh, be quiet,’ I say, pulling up my jeans and flushing the toilet.

I wash my hands, and then Ryan hands me my coke.

‘Thanks,’ I say, noticing that he’s opened it for me.
‘That’s the first thoughtful thing you’ve done all day.’

Chapter 32

Half an hour later, I’m not feeling good. Ryan’s dragged me up and down Oxford Street, thrusting the charity bucket in people’s faces. We see a few of our fellow students, their buckets rattling with money, but we’re barely collected more than a few pounds.

My heart is pounding, and I lean against a wall. ‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Please, Ryan, I’m serious. I need to rest.’ The world begins to spin, suddenly, and my head hurts.

Ryan looks at me strangely. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘Aren’t you feeling good? You should be.’

I sink to the floor against a brick wall, not caring where I am or who’s looking at me. The pounding in my heart is overtaking everything, and I feel frightened.

‘You’re bleeding,’ Ryan says
.

‘I am?’ I say, dazed. ‘Where?’

‘From your nose.’

I put my hand under my nose and see blurry blood on my hand. Then I pass out.

When I wake up, I see a white ceiling. I look down and discover I’m under green bedclothes. My body aches and my head hurts. I try to sit up, and see a large lady in a nurse’s uniform come towards my bed.

She takes
my hand. ‘You’re alright. You’re just in A&E, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.’

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘You tell us,’ she says, with a knowing smile. ‘You’ve taken something you shouldn’t, and it had something nasty in it. Nothing too harmful, we don’t think, but better we keep an eye on you.’

‘Taken something?’

The nurse raises an eyebrow. ‘You may as well be honest about it, love. The more honest you are, the more we can help you.’

‘But I didn’t take anything,’ I say. ‘I had a shot and half a beer, but that’s all.’

‘We see it all the time on student rag week,’ says the nurse. ‘Alcohol poisoning, usually, but the odd idiot like you takes something stronger. You were lucky.’

‘But really, I didn’t,’ I say, feeling on the verge of tears.

‘Maybe you’ll remember better later,’ the nurse says with a wink. She turns
around. ‘Oh! My word
.’

I close my bruisey eyes, wo
ndering what’s bothering her
. When I open them again, I see the tall, shadowy figure of
Marc
Blackwell
standing over my bed.
He looks pointedly at the nurse, who hurries away, then
he swishes the hospital
curtain around us
.

‘What happened to you?’ he asks softly, taking my wrist. It’s covered in bruises from where the handcuff cut back and forth all day. ‘Who did this to you?’

‘No one,’ I say. ‘It’s student rag week. I was handcuffed to another student.
’ I’m too weak
to
worry about what I must look like.

Marc
raises an eyebrow. ‘Male or female?’

‘Male.’

‘Who?’

‘Ryan.’

Marc
slaps a hand
on
the bed.
‘I’m taking you out of here. To a private facility
. They say you took something
.’

‘But I didn’t,’ I say. ‘Truly I didn’t
. Maybe it was something I ate.
They said I’m going to be okay,’ I say. ‘I just need rest.’

‘Well, I’d rather be s
afe than sorry. I have an
ambulance waiting outside, and I’ve arra
n
ged for you to be taken to a
facility in West London.’

‘The nurse doesn’t believe I didn’t take anything,’ I say, feeling tearful again. ‘But I really didn’t.’

Marc doesn’t say anything.

Chapter 34

The private hospital room is full of roses when I arrive – pink, yellow and red
blooms
on every surface.
Marc
was beside me
in the
ambulance, but he didn’t say a word. He seemed furious. As I’m wheeled into the private room by a hospital orderly
,
Marc
helps me onto the bed.

‘I’m feeling much better,’ I croak, although my eyes still ache.

‘Rest here,’ says
Marc
, marching towards the door.
‘I’ve hired people
to take care of you around the clock. I’ll be back, but there’s something I need to do first.’ At the door, a pretty brown-haired nurse in a white uniform is waiting.

‘Give her anything she wants,’ says
Marc
, ‘and be very careful when you take her blood. Her wrist is badly bruised.’

He marches off, and the nurse comes into the room.

‘I’m Trinity,’ she says. ‘
Marc
’s hired me to be your personal nurse. I need to take some blood from you, and then he’s asked me to make you comfortable. Bring you whatever food you’d like and set up some movies for you.’

I notice a flat
screen opposite the bed, and see green bushes and trees outside the window.

She takes my blood very carefully, and I hardly feel the syringe at all.

‘Well, now,’ she says, when she’s disposed of the needle and packed up the blood sample. ‘What can I get you to eat?
Marc
’s given me specific orders. Any meal you like from any restaurant in London. You can have Gordon Ramsey himself
cook you a meal, if you like. He’s a personal friend of Marc’s
.’

I smile
at the thought. What would
Jen
think if she could see me now? I decide I won’t ring her or my family from the hospital. They’d only worry.

I feel my stomach grumble at the thought of food. ‘Actually, the thing I’d most like is pizza,’ I say. ‘Followed by ice cream.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ says Trinity. ‘
Marc
’s bought you some sweatpants and t-shirts to help you get comfortable. He really does care for his students
, doesn’t he?
’

Perhaps more than he should,
I think. I’m finding it hard to get a grip on everything that’s happening.
Is this wrong or right? I appreciate
Marc
taking care of me, and bringing me to this fancy hospital where they can run specialist tests. But would he do this for all his students?
If he
wouldn’t, it isn’t fair
. I want Marc so badly, but I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want favouritism.

I find myself watching the door, hoping
Marc
will come back.
It’s been such a whirlwind so far,
I haven’t thought about much
but Marc’s body and the things he’s done to me. But
I am his pupil, and he’s my lecturer. He’s in a position of authority and he’s not supposed to abuse it. I’m so confused. The only thing I know for certain is that I want t
o see him again
.
Actually, not just see him. I want him to touch me again.

After a while, Trinity returns. ‘We got your test results,’ she says. ‘
Marc
made sure everything went through extra fast.’

Which I guess means he paid a lot of money,
I think, feeling uncomfortable.

‘What did they say?’ I ask.

‘Y
ou took
something with
rat poison
in it
. But you’ll be absolu
tely fine. It was a very low do
s
e
, and the body has excellent ways of getting rid of poison.’

‘Rat poison?’ My stomach lurches. ‘But how?’

‘It
’s
something we often find
cut with
hard drugs.’

‘But I haven’t taken any hard drugs.’

‘Who were you with today?’

‘Another student called Ryan.’

‘Was he taking anything?’

I think b
ack to Ryan’s blear
y eyes and agitated manner. I thought he was just drunk, but ... ‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘It’s possible.’

‘And could you have taken something by mistake?’

Then it hits me. The Coca Cola
. In the toilets. He opened my drink for me. It was such a strange thing for him to do. So unlike him to do something thoughtful.

‘Maybe he put something in my drink,’ I say.

Trinity nods. ‘Sounds like the most likely explanation.’

Chapter 35

A few hours later, I’m eating pepperoni pizza and wa
tching Shakespeare in Love
on the flat screen TV. When th
e pizza is finished, I start on
a tub of
cookies and cream
ice
cream.
Trinity
brought me three flavours, just to make sure she picked one I liked. She needn’t have worried. I like all ice
cream.

A few specialists have come to see me, and checked my temperature and asked me questions. But otherwise, I’ve been on my own.

I have to admit, hospital or not, I’m not having such a bad time, except for the aching feeling I have when I think of
Marc
. Aside from the fact I want to see him, my heart aches to know he might think I took drugs with
Ryan.

A
tall
shadow falls over the
glazed window in the
door, and my spoon pauses
over a square of frozen cookie
in vanilla ice cream.

The door opens
.
It’s Marc.

‘Sophia.’ He comes in and closes the door behind him. ‘How are you feeling?’