Road to Recovery

Chapter 10

  As we made our way to the Hospital/Hotel Vicente ran through the details for me, and somehow I felt responsible, if I hadn’t encouraged them to ‘go for it’, perhaps they would still be alive. After we had landed he stood sombrely on the helipad and said ‘I’ll give you a few days to settle back in, and then I will come back and sort things out’.

  ‘Sort things out?’ I enquired.

  ‘Sorry’ he replied, ‘I thought you knew, you are their sole heir’, and just like that I was the ninth richest person on the Planet, and the owner of one rather dilapidated old airfield, but I didn’t have very long to mourn.

  Whilst I was in America I had started to miss Bonnie and Clyde big time, then I had a brilliant idea, they could come and move in with me at the hospital. I was now on the mend so all the major bits of medical hardware were now things of the past. Maria doubted it, but she would make enquiries, but Charlie, who was paying one of his flying visits remembered that there were a few suites on the ground floor, and they all had patio’s that led directly out into the hospital grounds. Maria contacted El Director in person, and he was righteously mortified, until Maria agreed with him totally, and told him that she would then ring around and find out what the other hospitals could offer.

  Suddenly he thought it was a wonderful idea. ‘He should have thought of it himself’ he spluttered, ‘after all the ground floor suites are much more expensive, sorry, definitely more suited to my needs now that I was off life support, and hygiene was not so critical’.

  Was he calling my dogs dirty? Then I remembered all those muddy paw prints, yep, and so when I arrived in my new room, in my new super-duper, all singing, all dancing, top of the range electric wheel chair (what no loo), they were waiting for me. As we were leaving the States Charlie had apparently rung ahead and arranged for one of the new team, who were already ‘in Country, acclimatizing’ (sunbathing), to go and collect them from the kennels, and they had phenomenal memories; it was all the new minders could do to keep them off me, and once they had quietened down slightly Charlie took them off for a long walk, ‘to tire them out’, whilst I was given the full Cooks’ tour. I had my room of course, complete with French Windows that led onto the patio; then came a lounge, fully equipped with all the things that a lounge should have, but renamed ‘the kennel’; El Director had had a brainwave. As the lounge also had French Windows that led onto the same patio, he had a dog flap installed in one of them. He then had four very tastefully designed (but not very big) ‘no dogs beyond this point’ signs made, colour co-ordinated to match the furnishings of course, and placed either side of each of the room’s internal doors. This he hoped would satisfy any prying Health and Safety Inspector. It was an excellent idea, but there was only one small problem, we had been very lax pet owners, we had never taught either of them to read.

  Back to the tour, Maria had, while we were still in America, made a command decision, and I was wheeled into the adjacent suite!! The first room was now her office, complete with reception area; and the second was for Rodney and his boys. It was to be their ‘rest room’ when they weren’t at their station in the main corridor outside my door, or on the patio. ‘Are there any rooms left in this hospital for other paying guests’ I wondered. Actually there was, but David’s suite was the next one along - and I was paying for that one as well!!!!!

  When the Nurses finally managed to get me into my bed, and the doctors had finished prodding and poking me around, and admiring the needlework of their Americano Compañeros, I closed my eyes and had a few minutes to myself, time to remember George and Millie. I had now started to look on them both as friends rather than just ‘ships that pass in the night’, and I would miss them dearly, especially Millie with all her financial wizardry. I pressed my beeper for Maria and she quickly entered. ‘I need a few words with Vicente, will you please contact him on his mobile’.

  ‘I can do better than that’ she replied, ‘he is still in my office using the telephone’. So ‘in two shakes of a gnats tail’ Vicente entered, and quickly ran through what he thought would be happening over the next few days. There was already a Spanish Air Accident Investigation Team at the crash site, but as the Mustang was an American built historic aircraft they had also requested assistance from their American counterparts. They had far greater experience when dealing with this type of aircraft, and two experienced investigators were already on their way over, then he got very embarrassed, ‘when the remains of George and Millie are removed, they will have to be taken away for a post-mortem examination’.

  That shocked me, I had assumed that they had already been removed, but no, the Investigators had to carry out their investigation first, removing their bodies might destroy valuable evidence. I then told Vicente that after all the necessary formalities had been carried out, and their bodies were released, would he please arrange their funerals, if of course it didn’t conflict with their wishes, and I wanted to be there.

  After Vicente’s departure Bonnie and Clyde bounded in, but not quite as ‘bounding’ as before, and within fifteen minutes Clyde was sound asleep in their basket, curled up into one of Sheila’s jumpers (how either of those items had arrived in my room I hadn’t a clue), and Bonnie was asleep on a folded up blanket against my right foot. From then on that was where they slept, no matter how hard the nursing staff tried, every time they left the room Bonnie was back up on my bed, and the heavy mob also had a new clause in their job descriptions, ‘dog walkers to the Boss’, not that they took much persuading.

  Mr Agrampara arrived with a Mr Carmichael (George and Millie’s English solicitor), Marcus (their P.A.), and Vicente, four days later, and after introductions, and the obligatory commiserations, Marcus was sent off for a chat with Maria, and we got down to business. Mr Carmichael read the Will, there were a couple of minor bequeaths (only a couple of million or so) and the rest was left to me, including that damned airfield.

  Then it was Mr Agrampara’s turn, and there was something definitely wrong with him, something was not quite right, then I got it - not a Tardis in sight, just an ordinary looking briefcase. Removing a DVD from the briefcase he inserted it into my little black book’s disk drive, and after pressing a few keys, and sticking ‘his’ thumb over ‘my’ reader, it whirled and clicked for a few moments, and then I really WAS the ninth richest person in the World - just like that. I of course had to sign some papers, it could not quite be as easy as that, but ten minutes later it was all done and dusted and Mr Agrampara and Mr Carmichael were on their way - well almost, not before Mr Agrampara hoped that I would now start calling him by his Christian name ‘Miracle’ (Mr Agrampara really is a bit of a mouthful). There just had to be a story behind that name so I asked him how on earth he had ended up being called Miracle.

  Apparently his mother had been a long time in labour (three days), with only her sister to hold her hand as his father had gone off ‘wetting the baby’s head’ at the first sign of a contraction. As the midwife finally prised him out, he let out an enormous cry and his mother shouted out ‘what is it?’ (They already had seven girls between them, and both desperately wanted a boy). His Aunty, eyes and arms raised up to the ceiling cried out ‘It’s a Miracle’, and so with no husband close by to argue, that was the naming ceremony over with.

  I didn’t know if he was winding me up or not, but I just had to push on, ‘did you have any problems with that name at school?’ I asked trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘Oh no, I always used my first Christian name – ‘Itza’, and quietly closed the door behind him.

  As I lay their clutching my sides, stomach, and every other healing scar, I vowed never to put it to the test, he might just be telling the truth.

  Vicente was now getting used to these proceedings so ten minutes later he was following the other two out of the room, but Marcus, what was I to do with him? It seemed as though I had inherited him as well, whether I liked it or not. I already had a P.A, so what had he got going for him that I needed? Then it hit
me, he knew the airfield. I had never been there but he had, so, ‘Marcus I have a job for you’.

  ‘Yes Mr Michaels, and what might that be?’ he politely asked, eagerly looking in the direction of Maria’s office.

  ‘Airfield Manager’. He was Gob smacked - with a capital G; he had definitely not seen that one coming.

  ‘Err, I, oh, what, but’, he stammered; at a total loss for words so I put him out of his misery. I explained that it was only a temporary post, just until I was well enough to find him something more suitable. He gave a large sigh of relief; he had only just got the P.A. job, which was turning out to be quite a doddle, and he didn’t want to end up back in the dole queue again. His principle tasks initially were to sort out the crash site, George and Millie’s effects, the security of the airfield, and to learn some Spanish. Utilising Google Earth he then gave me quite a detailed run down on what it was actually like there, but I must say that my initial impression wasn’t that favourable, although a seed was sown in my mind.

  A few days later, whilst Caroline was topping up her tan, David and I were having one of our ‘quite little chats’, and as usual we were putting the world to rights. We had just finished our morning exercises (apparently we were both making excellent progress) and the conversation turned to the airfield. I was wondering whether to call in some consultants to advise me on what to do with it, and as usual I was interested in David’s input. We started off by chatting about the harbour; apparently there had been a flotilla of gunboats there in the past, so it was quite substantial, and I had always fancied a boat, but then one thing led to another and we ended up on the subject of security of the whole place, and he imagined that sooner or later the private security firm would have to go, replaced with something in-house, perhaps with a high tech passive surveillance back-up. I didn’t have a clue what he was prattling on about, so I asked him to put his money where his mouth was, and take on the job. That shut him up - but it hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing for me, the idea had been floating around in my mind for a few days. It was there, it was mine, so I might as well use it, the airfield that is. I needed a place to call home, and that was as good a place as any (but definitely after a large amount of TLC), and what I finally offered him, after speaking with Vicente, Maria and a consultant or two, was the position of Director of Security. He would be on the same salary as Maria, I would house him, he could choose his own company (armoured) vehicle, etc, etc; all I asked in return was for him to protect me, my family, my friends, my employees, my visitors and my property 24/7. I had learned a thing or two from the Colonel.

  I spoke to the Colonel later that day and he thought that it was an excellent idea, although tongue in cheek, he thought I should pay him a ‘finder’s fee’. I asked him to what address I should send the medical bills when I got them from America, and he laughingly called it quits, although his parting quip did catch me out, ‘and I suppose you will be taking Charlie as well?’ Of course I would, I just hadn’t thought of it yet, Bonnie and Clyde would never forgive me, and so Charlie became his Deputy, and if he was the Deputy, did that make David the Sherriff?

  If I was to have two of them, then I might as well have all three, so on return from her sun worshiping I had a quiet word with Caroline. How would she feel if I were to offer her the position of Gentleman’s Gentleman, or whatever the female equivalent of that was? What I needed was someone to sort out my medications, clothes and meals, but there would definitely be no cooking or cleaning involved (and she could even have her own car as well), Maria would be sorting those sorts of things out. She gave the briefest of glances to David and jumped at the idea; after all she was still unemployed, and was starting to get a very square derrière sitting around watching her husband getting better.

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