BLOOD DRAGON by Freddie Peters (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

She returned to her sofa and started spreading the documents she had gathered about her father yet again. She arranged the documents in chronological order as she always liked to.

Memories of a life spanning 45 years were reduced to a neat pile only a couple of inches thick. It made her throat tighten to think it was all that was left of an artist’s life that seemed so full and vivid whenever she remembered her father. She never bothered to track down any of the pieces he had worked on, or which had been sold. Her mother had once talked about it in the early days when she was still hoping he might return.

“Every artist worthy of the name should have a catalogue raisonné,” she would often say. She had started the process of writing an exhaustive list of what she recalled her husband had left in China. Then there were the pieces he sold when working in Paris, bought by a small group of collectors that enjoyed avant-garde artists such as him.

But once he had sold a piece, her father had no interest in keeping a record … I just wanted to let go. It was an ideological stance. An artist was selfless, giving, art belonged to the world..

When her mother had finally cleared the artist’s studio at their house, Nancy had saved some of his archives. They had first stored some of it in boxes kept with friends or distant relatives.

After her mother died, Nancy ruthlessly discarded almost all that was a memory of a father that never returned, in an act of defiance. The memory of the day still brought much pain and anger.

Today, of course, she wished she had been less ruthless in discarding old papers. These documents might have shed some light on the journey her father took 30 years earlier.

The ring of her mobile made her jump. Pole’s name flashed on the screen. Her heart swelled. She could not have found a better man to help her on her journey.

“Jonathan … I must apologise …”

“Later, Nancy … Ollie is back in ICU. Someone switched off his oxygen and injected morphine into his drip. I don’t know whether he will pull through.”

A slap in the face could not have hurt her more.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes … so sorry … I’ll pick up Cora and meet you at the hospital.”

Pole’s curtness rankled. Though she understood there was no time for a chat.

She decided against calling Cora directly. Instead she placed a call to DS Branning. He answered immediately.

“She is baking a cake with Charlie. Johnny is pestering them about how he would do it.”

Cora’s arty gang were doing their best to look after their friend. Thankfully, Branning was giving them enough space to huddle around Cora.

Good man.

“I’m on my way . There has been an incident at the hospital. Ollie is back in ICU. I’d rather she learned it from me.”

“Understood, I’ll go back up and wait.”

Nancy heard Branning crushing his cigarette under his foot and going on his way.

When Nancy entered the large lounge, the conversation stopped. Johnny and Charlie stopped bickering. Beth turned off the TV that no one was watching and Cora half stood up only to sit down again in slow motion, but eyes riveted on Nancy.

Cora closed her eyes. “Is Ollie …” Her voice faltered.

“No, but he is back in ICU.”

Everybody’s eyes turned to Cora, concern, anguish and kindness.

She nodded. “I’ll get my coat.”

“You don’t have a coat,” Johnny piped up. Charlie and Beth shushed him. “I’m just saying.”

“I’ll lend you mine.” Beth stood up and returned from her bedroom with a long comfortable puffer coat.

Johnny had gathered up her rucksack. Beth helped her with the coat.

She nodded to Nancy. Nancy put an arm around her shoulders. There was little she could say that would sound either reassuring or genuine.

DS Branning was already downstairs. He had brought his unmarked police car to the front of the building and left the doors open for them to get in.

* * *

The police vehicle stopped in front of the hospital entrance. The building was now completely lit up. The large, inverted V that supported the heavy overhanging construction cast a shadow over the pavement.

Nancy got out of the car first. When Cora stepped out, she turned around to make sure Nancy was following her. Her face was a mixture of dread and worry. She tried to be brave but knew she did not want to face ICU on her own, not again.

“I’ll catch up with you.” Branning pulled the window down and leant forward to speak to them.

Nancy nodded and turned to Cora. She stood transfixed at the bottom of the entrance stairs. Without a word she suddenly started moving. She pushed the revolving doors, making her way through the crowd without waiting. Cora’s agile body was moving fast. Nancy did not want to shout for her to wait, but almost missed the lift when the doors shut.

“So sorry Nancy.” Cora shook her head. “It’s unbearable.”

The same diffused light and cubicles welcomed them when they arrived on the ICU floor. The same receptionist told Cora she wouldn’t be able to see Ollie yet. This time Cora ignored her. She started walking towards the cubicles, checking each of them to see where he was.

Nancy caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “This is not going to help.”

“I need to know.”

“He’s alive … otherwise they would have told you.”

A female police officer stood up and walked over to them. “I too have been asked to wait.”

“What happened?”

“One of the nurses came to do one of their regular checks. They’re very good about that. The next thing I know is a doctor and another nurse rush into the room and move him to ICU.”

The short woman was holding her hat between two fidgeting hands. She kept opening and closing her fingers as she spoke.

“But he was doing so well.” Cora’s voice broke. He had spoken to her.

“I’m