DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Scribbs plopped down her charge card and grimaced at the clerk who told her to have a nice day. Nice day. Right, plunking down an ungodly amount for six measly flowers, just because she hadn't the time to run to the shops after work. She sighed and went to the elevators, pressing the button to go up and letting the irritation flow from her. She didn't want Ash to see her like this. After all, it was Scribbs' fault that she was in the hospital...
She rearranged the flowers as she rode up to the third floor, with a handsome young doctor and two elderly women muttering about the parking. When she stepped off, she followed the arrows on the wall to Room 331. She took a deep breath, smoothed down the front of her coat and rapped on the doorframe as she stepped into the room.
Ash was sitting up in bed, magazine folded in her hands. Her hair was down and Scribbs was more shocked by that than the length of plaster on Ash's leg. Ash looked up at the knock and slapped her magazine shut. "I'm not speaking to you," she said immediately.
"Oh, come on," Scribbs said. She held up the vase and said, "Brought you flowers."
Ash glanced over. "From downstairs."
"I couldn't get out. So sue me." She put the flowers down on the bedside table and crossed her arms over her chest. "So..." She screwed up her face. "Does it hurt?"
"Of course it bloody hurts," Ash said. "I broke my foot in three places!"
"Well, it'll heal."
Ash scoffed and looked out the window again.
"I said I was sorry!" She reached into her pocket and said, "I brought you something else besides the flowers."
Ash hesitantly looked over. Her eyes widened slightly and she said, "Is that...?"
"Chocolates," Scribbs said. "The finest chocolates from the finest store on the finest--"
Ash snatched them and pulled off the ribbon. She lifted the lid and looked inside. She smiled and said, "You didn't even eat any of them."
"Nope," Scribbs said. She smiled and said, "Now you know how sorry I am."
"Well," Ash said, plucking at the edge of the box. She sighed and finally grabbed one of the chocolates out. She took a bite, swallowed it and gestured at the visitor's chair. "Fine. Sit."
Scribbs smiled and pulled the seat closer. She sat down and leaned forward, hands clasped between her knees. "So can I sign your cast?"
"Are we in grammar school?"
"Come on, I never get to sign casts!"
Ash rolled her eyes and gestured for her to go ahead. She ate another piece of chocolate and Scribbs pulled out a permanent marker. She pulled Ash's cast closer and Ash cried out. Scribbs winced. "Sorry..." She uncapped the pen with her teeth and bent down, sizing up the expanse of white. Finally, she began to draw.
A few minutes, later, Ash looked down. Scribbs had drawn herself in a car, a stick figure with a wide "O" of a mouth. Standing at the bumper, she'd drawn a dark-haired stick figure with her arms stretched out in pain. Underneath, in Scribbs' distinctively-sloppy handwriting, she'd written, "Sorry I ran over your foot."
Ash smirked and leaned back, glancing over at the window. "You know, you're going to have to ferry me around everywhere until this gets better."
"Eh, I drive you everywhere anyway..."
"And if I need a hand getting around at home...?"
"Ring me up, day or night," Scribbs promised.
"I'll scrub your back," Scribbs smirked.
Ash finally smiled and examined the drawing again. "Well. I guess it's not so bad."
"Right. You lose a foot, but you gain chocolate, a chauffer..."
Scribbs rolled her eyes, "Fine, a masseuse! Now will you forgive me?"
"I'll think about it. I want to see how good your massages are first."
Scribbs sank back into the chair and laced her fingers over her stomach.
"So," Ash said as she searched for a caramel-filled chocolate. "Anything I should know about at work?"
Scribbs slapped her leg and began to recount what had happened in the squad room. Ash laughed, ate her chocolate and even shared a few pieces with her partner. When Ash was released, Scribbs pushed her wheelchair out of the hospital. "So, when do you start making good on those promises?"
"When you get home."
"Excellent," Ash said, facing forward again. "I'd like a massage first, then a nice long bubble bath. Think you can handle that, DS Scribbins?"
"I can sure try," Scribbs said with a sly grin.
Return to Murder in Suburbia Fiction
Return to Main Page