Andy's Story

Chapter Eight - The Ball

Sometime around noon George finally stirred from his sleep. Opening his eyes he instantly regretted it as the room was too bright, sending a shooting pain through his head. The room was flooded with light, someone having opened the all the curtains, including the ones around his bed. He didn't even remember getting into bed for that matter.

Moaning, he flung one arm up and over his eyes to block out the light.

"Fuller," he groaned. George waited for a response, he knew his man must be in the room somewhere but hearing no response he spoke louder. "Fuller! Where are you man?" The pounding in his head making him groan again.

"Here milord," George heard Fuller's voice, it sounded like it was coming from the corner of the room.

"How much did I drink last night?" George asked. "No, don't answer that." George said as he heard Fuller start to speak. "I'm in need of one of your restoratives."

"I'll make it for you right now milord." Fuller told him.

Everything sounded so very loud, George groaned again and grabbed the pillow next to him with his free hand and plonked it on his head to muffle the noise, even through the pillow he still heard the sound of steps heading towards the door, and then the sound of the door opening and closing.

It seemed an age before the sound of the door opening again reached his ears. Footsteps approached his bed.

"Your restorative, milord." Fuller said as he placed the glass down on the bedside table.

The smell wafting to George's nose was not pleasant, but he knew that if he was to rid himself of the pounding in his head he had to drink the stuff!

Forcing himself to open his eyes George pushed himself up so he was slouching in his bed. Looking toward where Fuller had placed the glass, George reached his arm out and curled his fingers around the glass and then bringing it closer George closed his eyes and tried not to think of the awful smell that was assailing his nose.

Blocking his nose with his fingers he raised the glass with his other hand and downed the contents of the glass in one swallow.

"Argg, how I hate that stuff." George muttered as he put the empty glass back on the side table and collapsed back onto his pillows.

The events of the previous night were a little blurry to him. What had made him drink so much? What had he been doing? He wondered as he lay with his eyes closed to the light in the room.

He had been playing cards, he remembered that much. Now who had been playing? Did he win or lose? How he wished he could remember but the fuzziness in his brain was not helping.

"Would you like a little something to eat, milord?" Fuller asked him.

George opened his eyes to see his valet standing by his bed with the empty glass in his hand. Glaring at him balefully George told him to get out in no uncertain terms. Just the thought of food at that moment made his stomach roll. In no way did he want to experience any gastrointestinal distress.

It was a few hours later that George felt ready to face the world and maybe a piece of toast and sweet black tea.

He rang for Fuller and by the time he arrived George was sitting bent over holding his head on the side of his bed, waiting for the queasiness in his stomach to settle. With the help of his valet George washed and readied himself for what remained of the day.

What a night it must have been, George thought, I must have lost heavily.

It was later that night while he was sitting in his study that more of the previous night came back to him. And then he remembered why he had drunk so much and he groaned as he pushed himself out of his chair.