Page 131 of Tell No One
“You need to be in hospital.”
“I need to leave with you.”
Delaney glared.
“Yeah, that’s the face I know and l…like.” Tag swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Get my clothes for me, please.”
Delaney went to fetch the nurse.
No amount of talk and threats persuaded Tag to stay in bed and have the IV re-inserted. He’d used the tape that had held the drip in place to seal the hole the needle had made in his arm.
“You’re being an idiot,” Delaney told him.
“I’m fine. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t like hospitals. Please take me out of here. Please!”
Delaney recognised the desperation in his eyes.
The doctor arrived as Tag was gingerly pulling his clothes from the bedside cabinet.
“Can’t you persuade him to stay?” the doctor asked Delaney. “He can go home tomorrow.”
“Is there anything majorly wrong with him?”
“Cracked ribs, cracked sternum. Dehydration. How did he get the wound? No one told us anything.”
“Shot at close range with an air rifle. A stupid game gone wrong. Luckily, he was holding something in front of his chest. The police are investigating.” Delaney hoped the doctor would buy it without questions.
Tag had pulled on his underwear and trousers.
The doctor sighed. “Just watch him. Keep his fluids up. His injuries will heal in time. He’s refused all painkillers, so good luck with him on that. I’ll sign him out.”
“I can’t put my shoes on and I don’t have a T-shirt,” Tag muttered.
Delaney opened Tag’s backpack, then changed his mind and took out one of his own T-shirts.
“What’s wrong with mine?” Tag said.
“Easier to get into than those stupid skin-tight things you wear.”
Tag shot him a smile, but after he’d pulled the T-shirt on, his face was white. Delaney helped with his shoes. By the time he was on his feet, a porter had arrived with a wheelchair. Tag let himself be pushed to the exit.
Delaney beckoned a taxi and helped Tag into the back. It was obvious he was hurting by the way he was doing everything very carefully.
“You should have accepted the painkillers,” Delaney said.
“I don’t like taking tablets.”
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Waverley station.”
Tag very likely wasn’t up to a long journey on a train, but he’d probably feel worse tomorrow. Delaney bought two first-class singles with a table on the fastest route. There were plenty of seats available, so unlikely anyone would be sitting opposite. Four hours twenty minutes to Kings Cross. By eleven that night, they’d be in his London flat.
He left Tag sitting with their things, somewhere he could keep an eye on him, while he went shopping. There was complimentary food onboard but he wasn’t sure how much Tag would want to eat. As he was walking back, he spotted something else and bought it, only once he had, he half-wished he hadn’t.
Tag hadn’t moved. He looked washed out: pale face, no sparkle in his eyes. Though he smiled when he saw Delaney.
“Think I’d deserted you?” Delaney asked.
