-5-
“Are you sure this doctor we’re going to see is the right choice?” Ginny asked Spook as they headed towards Stockholm. Most of the lengthy cruise along the motorway after they’d swapped the motorboat for a car in Mariefred had been conducted in silence, or to a background of white noise from the badly tuned radio. So far, Ash had been stoic about the appointment, but his quietness concerned her. It almost certainly meant he was fretting, though whether that was over his health or his inability to play guitar wasn’t so clear, but then one rather played into the other. The fact was, Black Halo were looking shaky, both internally, and to their fans, who’d been disappointed by them pushing back their tour dates, and nor had they been helped by some biased and highly inaccurate news coverage of the events leading up to Ash’s nosedive.
No, for heaven’s sake, he wasn’t a druggie!
Frankly, the only way for Black Halo to emerge from this was with a kick-ass next album. And for that, they needed their kick-ass guitarist to be able to play. If he couldn’t, it would likely be game over.
“Dr. Noren is the best option inside Sweden. If you want someone better, it would involve flying further afield, and I’m not sure how desperate our guy is to travel.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ash mumbled, not even bothering to turn his head away from the window. “This is bad enough. I’m not doing a tour of medical practitioners. They all say the same crap regardless of where you go.”
“You have such a healthy respect for the people who saved your butt,” Spook remarked.
Ash grunted. “Yeah, well they seem to create as many problems as they fix.”
The professionals had been nothing but excellent during Ash’s recent hospital stay, so she attributed his moaning to some old wound. She was sorry whatever past experience he’d received had left him with such a negative attitude. Though positivity and belief in those working to help you went a long way to aiding recovery after injury, being dour about the situation would only make it harder for him to crawl his way back to genuine fitness again.
“What’s up, Ginny?” Ash asked a few moments later, staring pointedly at her. “Is his driving terrifying?”
“Eh?” She did a double take at the driver to make sure it was Spook in the hot seat and he hadn’t magically been replaced with Rock Giant. “No. I’m fine.”
“Then what’s with the death grip?” He bowed his head towards her phone.
Okay, yes, admittedly her phone was welded to her palm at the moment, and her fingertips were bleached white from the firmness of her hold, but that wasn’t down to Spook’s driving. Ever since the phone call earlier had confirmed that Operation Ann was officially underway, she’d been anticipating fireworks.
They wouldn’t come today, she knew that. Things took time. Any drama was likely weeks away, but that did little to ease her nervousness over what was potentially ahead. People could be downright vindictive, and this was the kind of situation that brought out the worst in people. Still, it wasn’t so much herself she feared for, but the potential for causing Ash pain. Rumours were spread all too easily, and then before you knew it, your little private matter was a focus piece on the nightly news, and her boyfriend and his already struggling band were embroiled in yet another drama.
“Are you expecting another call?”
Ginny shook her head at him. Expecting and anticipating were two different things.
“Do you want me to put that in my jacket pocket for you?” He held out his hand for her to pass over the phone.
“No, it’s fine, I have my bag.” She took the hint, and stowed the phone in the black depths of her patchwork knapsack.
“Good call, Ginny,” Spook said from the driver’s seat. She could see the reflection of his eyes in the rear view mirror. “He’d only have lost it for you. There’s a reason why he’s only allowed shitty phones, and that no one trusts him with their numbers.”
“Hey, I haven’t lost a phone in months…over a year, actually.”
“Gin, how many have you lost?”
“Ever? None.”
“Yeah, me neither. What’s your current count, Ash, about seven?”
“Aw, shut up.”
Ash turned away huffily from them, and they fell quiet again. Spook tuned in to the local traffic update. “Sounds as if a minor detour is in order, hopefully we won’t end up in a traffic snarl and miss your appointment.”
Ash gave a voluble sniff. “Since this is likely pointless anyway, I don’t see it’ll make much difference.”
Ginny poked him. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I do.”
“Well, I’m glad you could understand that so there’s a chance that we will make the appointment.” She’d been nothing but grateful to Spook and his language skills since the night of the incident. Having a native speaker made communicating with the hospital staff and police much easier, even though they all spoke perfectly passable English. “And I’m sure this doctor is going to have some useful suggestions for you. She’s a specialist. I’m certain she knows her stuff.”
Ash gave another teenager-like grunt, shut his eyes and feigned sleep. She really hoped he wasn’t going to take this attitude into the appointment.
