I saw the woman who had been speaking to me, dressed in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck and in the background another woman also dressed in white. ‘I’m Doctor Wichasak, and this is Nurse Taksin,’ she smiled down at me. Both looked Thai. But the doctor spoke with an American accent. ‘How did I get here? I asked, ‘was I in an accident?’ ‘James, all in good time, I want you to get some rest, and later on we will tell you what happened.’ ‘Okay, dokey, that’s fine, thank you very much…’ and I dropped back to sl**p. When I woke up the next time, the room was dark but with a small light dimly illuminating the room. I came round more quickly this time and I was conscious of the ache in my side as well as a raging headache. I tried to raise myself off the bed but the drip in my arm tugged the skin and I just lay back. My other arm was free and I managed to rub my eyes with my hand and felt a bandage on my shoulder. I must have been in a big accident I thought. It was then that. In an instant I'm back in my parents garden, the scent of roses my mother held for me to sniff, their soft, velvety petals brushing my nose and cheek transporting me there in a flash; and I know she is behind me, her perfume so sweet and heady it almost masks her natural musky odour, almost but not quite, the two combining in a wonderful way that robs me of my ability to concentrate. I read and re-read the same line over and over but the words don't form a coherent whole in my mind, each one an island, isolated from its neighbour and the scent grows stronger and I can hear her soft breathing as she moves ever closer on her silent stocking covered feet. I wait for her to speak but the deafening silence remains and I flinch involuntarily as I feel her hands rest gently on my shoulders, her thumbs pressing lightly just below the nape of my neck finding the knots that have settled there as I read. The thumbs press a little harder and I feel the long nails of her fingers against the top.
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