THE OVERCOMER









By Tessa Harvey



CHAPTER THREE
(Continued)


But Elias developed a fever and tossed blankets restlessly around. He was aware they were replaced, vaguely aware of being half carried to the toilet. Once he heard voices, muffled, distorted, something about parents and hospital. The days blurred. Then he awoke and the matron, Mrs Jones, and Mr Jenks were leading him to the bathroom.

This time he gruffly announced he could manage, and did, but was glad to be helped back to bed. The housemaster left.

Elias noticed that he wore different pyjamas - and flushed. "It is fine, boy," she said in her sing-song Welsh accent, "I have five grown sons."

A few days later his mother came to collect him for Christmas. Elias lay half-propped up by pillows in the back seat, gazing at the retreating hills and valleys and dark winter grass. He dozed, waking suddenly to screams as the car slid around a bend into the path of an oncoming truck. The boy was flung from the car and seemed to hover for a few seconds as the lovely dark blue car was crushed like an egg carton.

 Then he crashed into night.

It was long after Christmas when he came back to find himself in yet another bed. This time he wore a hospital gown and plaster and pain wrapped him round tightly. Tubes ran everywhere.

A nurse bent over him, offering a cup with a bent straw.

He closed his eyes against the light. He wanted only oblivion, but he heard his father's voice and forced his eyes open.




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