“Can I help you?” asked the pleasant-looking woman behind the accident and emergency counter.
“Thomas Jenkinson. I got a call telling me he’d been attacked, and he’d been brought in here,” Cliff told her.
The woman shuffled a couple of sheets of paper. “Are you a relative?”
I knew this was bound to be asked, and apparently, Cliff did, too.
“Yes, I’m his domestic partner.”
To her credit, the woman didn’t bat an eyelid. “Yes, Mr…?”
“Haldaine.”
“Okay, Mr Haldaine, you need to take the lift or the stairs up to the next level, turn left and follow the signs to Bennett Ward, they should be able to give you more information there.”
I could see how distraught Cliff was, so I thanked the lady and began shepherding him toward the lifts.
There were a number of people waiting for the lifts,
