EIGHT
The operating theatre waiting area was familiar to Mandy. A few months ago, in May, Jack had been in an explosion and shortly after was shot, had died, and been brought back, twice. Jack had joked it was DDT, drop dead twice, and here she was again with a tearful Alice, facing a man in blue surgical scrubs, prepared for bad news.
‘Mrs Austin?’ She tried to speak but couldn’t, thought she would like to be Mrs Austin.
She heard Alice answering, ‘This is his partner, Amanda Bruce.’
It was good enough for the surgeon, ‘He has taken a high velocity bullet in the back. It passed through cleanly, close to the shoulder, and hit nothing vital. He will be fine, so you can relax.’
Alice sobbed, this time in relief.
Mandy raised her head and finally she cried, ‘Thank you,’ the doc remained
