Page 41 of Eva Reddy’s Trip of a Lifetime

An Unexpected Act of Husbandry

‘How are you feeling, Eva?’

A light, lilting voice nudges away my dreams. I can feel two cool fingers pressing firmly against the underside of my wrist.

I keep my eyes closed and my body still to give my brain a chance to catch up with whatever is going on around me.

Stiff sheets cocoon me right up to my collarbone.

Somewhere close by, a machine emits a series of rhythmic electronic beeps.

Voices rise and fall, punctuated by the occasional clattering of glasses and dishes.

Hospital.

I am in hospital. There was an accident and I am in hospital. This theory is supported by the searing pain that stretches from my left ankle all the way up to my buttocks. It also explains the crashing headache that has settled between my eyes.

I try to pull myself up onto my elbows, triggering a fit of coughing.

‘Eva, are you alright?’

Kind, kohl-rimmed eyes stare down at me. From the woman’s uniform, I deduce that she is some kind of medical professional and that I am her patient.

‘Okay, I guess. A bit sore. A bit confused.’

‘That’s okay. My name is Jeshri. I am a nurse at Satna Hospital.

’ She deftly tucks a thermometer under my tongue before continuing.

‘You were brought in here late yesterday morning. It seems you were involved in a traffic accident, but you’re going to be fine.

No broken bones, just a few cuts and scrapes. ’

Suddenly, it all comes back to me. The crush of Holi festival. The auto-rickshaw careering toward me. The pile of decaying food and manure that cushioned my fall. The complete car crash that is my life.

‘You were unconscious when you arrived, so we kept you here overnight to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong. We did a scan. And I am happy to say, your brain is in all ways perfectly normal.’

Really? After the week I’ve had, I wouldn’t mind getting a second opinion on that. I have left my cheating husband, lost my job and misplaced my parents. I am thousands of kilometres from home. And I have just been mowed down in the street. Nothing about my current situation is perfectly normal.

Jeshri whips the thermometer away and produces a tumbler of water out of nowhere. ‘You will probably have a bit of a headache for a while.’ She hands me what I presume is Panadol and I swallow it gratefully. I need to pull myself together, sore head and painful body parts notwithstanding.

I’ve lost twenty-four hours. My parents are still on the loose and I can’t find them from a hospital bed. I need to get out of here.

‘What happens now?’ I ask, draining the water. My throat is still raspy from all the coloured powder I inhaled. ‘Can I leave?’

Jeshri refills my glass, checks the reading on the thermometer and gives me a thumbs up. ‘All good. You may go whenever you feel ready.’

I’m still a bit groggy but I’m not about to let that stop me.

I reach over to retrieve my clothes from beside my bed.

Every muscle in my body screeches as I untie my hospital gown and wriggle into my street clothes.

I’m in agony. My entire left side is a patchwork of grazes and embryonic bruises.

But it could be worse. At least my clothes have come to me via the laundry, washed and no longer smeared with paint and animal poop.

Ever so slowly, I straighten and give Jeshri a confident smile.

‘I’m ready.’

She doesn’t look convinced. ‘If you’re sure … But look after yourself, Eva. Your husband is waiting for you downstairs.’

‘My husband?’ I feel the colour rush from my face and a wave of nausea surges in its place. Maybe I’m having a relapse. Maybe I’m going to pass out again. I can only hope.

‘Yes, he brought you to the hospital. He has been waiting downstairs for you all night.’ Jeshri leans in conspiratorially. ‘He is very handsome, your husband. He looks like a movie star!’

Jonathan. Of course he’s here and charming every nurse in the hospital. He probably followed me to the bus station. Utkarsh would have let him know I was in Khajuraho. But what else did Utkarsh tell him? The likely answer terrifies me.

I want nothing more than to pull the stiff hospital sheet over my head and burrow back down into the bed. I’m not ready to be sent back out into the world. I don’t want to deal with any of this. I don’t want to deal with Jonathan.

But I’m also the woman who faced down death with only a chicken for company. I can do anything if I have to. I repeat the mantra. I am strong. I am invincible. I am Eva Reddy. And I will keep going and going and going. Just as my mad mother intends.

I thank Jeshri for her excellent care, grab my pack and walk through the ward to the elevator, shoulders back, back straight.

Less than a minute later, I am walking into the cavernous entrance foyer of the hospital.

There, waiting for me in a low-slung leather armchair, is the man who has the nerve to call himself my husband.

I walk up to him, shaking my head in disbelief.

‘Utkarsh, what are you doing here?’

From: Jonathan Moore

To: Me

Eva,

Where are you? I’m getting really worried.

I called your mother and she claims she hasn’t heard from you, although she did seem to know you were here in India.

This country is awful. I’m having a hard time getting around and I can’t imagine how you are managing.

Please let me know where you are then just stay put.

Don’t leave your hotel room, I will come and get you.

I mean it. It is dangerous here for a woman, especially one who hasn’t done a lot of travelling.

I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.

I love you.

Jonathan xx