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The Girl on the Train 05
Manage episode 179221644 series 1440637
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Evening
I'm sitting in A&E at University College Hospital. I was knocked down by a taxi while crossing Gray's Inn Road. I was sober as a judge, I'd just like to point out, although I was in a bit of state, distracted, panicky almost. I'm having an inch-long cut above my right eye stitched up by an extremely handsome junior doctor who is disappointingly brusque and businesslike. When he's finished stitching, ho notices the bump on my head.
'It's not new,' I tell him.
'It looks like pretty new,' he says.
'Well, not new today'.
'Been in the wars, have we?'
'I bumped it, getting into a car.'
He examines my head for a good few seconds and then says, 'Is that so?' He stands back and looks me in the eye. 'It doesn't look like it. It looks more like someone's hit you with something,' he says, and I go cold. I have a memory of ducking down to avoid a blow, raising me hands. Is that a real memory? The doctor approaches again and peers more closely at the wound. 'Something sharp, serrated maybe...'
'No', I say. ' It was a car. I bumped it getting into a car.' I'm trying to convince myself as much as him.
'OK'. He smiles at me then and steps back again, crouching down a little so that our eyes are level. ' are u all right...' he consults his notes, 'Rachel?'
'Yes'.
He looks at me for a long time; he doesn't believe me. He's concerned. Perhaps he thinks I'm a battered wife. 'Right. I'm going to clean this up for you, because it looks a bit nasty. Is there someone I can call for you? Your husband?'
'I'm divorced,' I tell him.
'Someone else then?' He doesn't care I'm divorced.
'My friend, please, she'll be worried about me'. I give him Cathy's name and number.
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I'm sitting in A&E at University College Hospital. I was knocked down by a taxi while crossing Gray's Inn Road. I was sober as a judge, I'd just like to point out, although I was in a bit of state, distracted, panicky almost. I'm having an inch-long cut above my right eye stitched up by an extremely handsome junior doctor who is disappointingly brusque and businesslike. When he's finished stitching, ho notices the bump on my head.
'It's not new,' I tell him.
'It looks like pretty new,' he says.
'Well, not new today'.
'Been in the wars, have we?'
'I bumped it, getting into a car.'
He examines my head for a good few seconds and then says, 'Is that so?' He stands back and looks me in the eye. 'It doesn't look like it. It looks more like someone's hit you with something,' he says, and I go cold. I have a memory of ducking down to avoid a blow, raising me hands. Is that a real memory? The doctor approaches again and peers more closely at the wound. 'Something sharp, serrated maybe...'
'No', I say. ' It was a car. I bumped it getting into a car.' I'm trying to convince myself as much as him.
'OK'. He smiles at me then and steps back again, crouching down a little so that our eyes are level. ' are u all right...' he consults his notes, 'Rachel?'
'Yes'.
He looks at me for a long time; he doesn't believe me. He's concerned. Perhaps he thinks I'm a battered wife. 'Right. I'm going to clean this up for you, because it looks a bit nasty. Is there someone I can call for you? Your husband?'
'I'm divorced,' I tell him.
'Someone else then?' He doesn't care I'm divorced.
'My friend, please, she'll be worried about me'. I give him Cathy's name and number.
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