Now and Then

by Mary O'Sullivan

  I opened my eyes. I was bathed in the bright headlights and blue flashing light of the ambulance. No siren. No engine sound. I opened my door and got out, my legs shaking so badly I had to lean on the roof for support. The ambulance had come to a halt half a metre from the back of my car.

  The driver got out and ran to me.

  “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

  I shook my head. I had no broken bones, no cuts or bruises. Just shock.

  “Is your car drivable? We’ll have to move it because we need to get our patient to the hospital as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t know. The engine stalled. I’ll try to move it now.”

  “If you’re sure you’re OK. It’s a bad night to be out on the road.”

  “I’m looking for my husband. Tall, dark-haired, wearing a white T-shirt. You wouldn’t have seen him along the road, would you? He went for a run, you see . . .”

  I read shock, pity and a deep sympathy on his face and knew Ben was the patient needing urgent attention.

  “I need to be with him,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  My car started straight away. I drove ahead, parked it in a gateway and put on the hazard warning lights.

  Then the ambulance came and picked me up.

  I held Ben’s numb hand all the way into A&E. I learned what it was to stare death in the face.

  The paramedics rushed Ben from the ambulance bay in through a separate entrance to the hospital. I was on autopilot as I trotted along beside the trolley, my mind numbed somewhat by shock, but mostly by the information the paramedics had given me. Ben, they said, had been seen heading down the cliff path to the strand at high tide and then, sometime later, he had been rescued from a cave. Figuring out what he thought he was doing was for later.

  Someone took me by the arm. I turned to see a doctor.

  “Mrs Parrish?”

  I nodded, noticing that she looked very young. And tired. She had probably been saving lives non-stop for the past twelve hours.

  “I’m Doctor Nyhan, I’ll be looking after your husband. Does he have any allergies? It’s important that we know.”

  I shook my head.

  “Is he on any medication?”

  “No.”

  In fact, Ben prided himself on never taking any pills. Not even for man flu. Ahead I saw him being wheeled through doors on the left.

  “We’re taking him to Resus – the resuscitation room – now,” the doctor told me. “I’ll have someone show you to the family room and I’ll come see you as soon as we know the way things are going.”

  She left before I could ask any questions. I knew he was very cold. I’d felt that for myself. But what did she mean by saying the way things are going? Surely there was only one way now that he was here and being treated. Warmed up. Deathly cold being banished. Death itself being exiled to wherever it lurked in wait for all of us. But surely not Ben. Not now.

  A nurse, not so young but also looking exhausted, appeared in front of me.

  “Let me take you to the family room. The doctor will see you as soon as she can.”

  I allowed her to lead me along a corridor which was painted cream and had some lovely wall art. A colourful distraction from the smell of disinfectant overlaid with lingering aromas of hospital dinners. We passed signs for the X-ray department, Chemotherapy, Dialysis. The Morgue. I shivered.

  “Is he going to be alright?” I asked the nurse. “It’s just a matter of warming him up, isn’t it?”

  She stopped at a door and flicked a wall switch. Light flooded a small room which had several armchairs, a coffee table, a water dispenser and a television high up on the wall. She indicated for me to go ahead.

  “The paramedics told me you were involved in a car accident, Mrs Parrish. I know you refused a check-up. How are you feeling?”

  I was annoyed with her. I had asked about Ben and she had ignored my question.

  “I’m fine, thank you. There wasn’t any accident. Just a near miss. I don’t need any treatment. But my husband. I want to know how he is.”

  “He’s getting the best care now. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

  I shook my head. It was information I needed, not coffee. I understood that Ben was seriously ill when he was brought into the hospital, wrapped in the foil blanket the paramedics had used to keep life in him. But I had assumed once he was here, he would soon recover. I thought of all the hospital dramas I loved watching on TV. Casualty, Holby City, Grey’s Anatomy. In those shows, phrases such as the doctor is working on him or he’s getting the best care, were code for prepare for tragedy. I wished for Doc Martin type blunt honesty.

  “Is my husband going to die?”

  The nurse waved me to one of the armchairs and then sat herself opposite. She leaned towards me.

  “His core temperature is low, Mrs Parrish. We’re infusing him with warm saline now and oxygen to help his breathing. We will heat him up gradually and monitor his heart and other vital organs. Doctor Nyhan will talk to you when his condition is stabilised. In the meantime, is there someone you could ring to wait with you?”

  Another catchphrase. Someone to wait with you. What it really meant was that I would need a friend or relation there to hold my hand when they told me Ben had not made it out of Resus.

  “We’re fairly new to the area,” I said, in an attempt to explain away my isolated state. Doubtless, if I asked the nice smiley people of Paircmoor they would help. If I was close enough to them to have their phone numbers. Which I was not. After two years of spending our money locally, opening a business in the village, enrolling our children in the local school, we were still the outsiders. Ben knew that. It had taken a crisis for me to realise it. I began to shake with shock, fear and a profound loneliness.

  “I’ll have a coffee, please,” I said, more for the nurse to go and leave me alone, than for any need of coffee. It might help to stop me shaking but nothing could fill the empty space I felt inside.

  I longed to be with Ben, to warm his body with mine, to tell him what I should have told him a month ago.

  Now he might never know.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Saturday 27th November 2010

  Cowslip Cottage creaked and groaned and scared the living daylights out of Mags Hoey. She would have liked to turn up the sound on the TV but was afraid to wake the children. In fact, she was terrified here, remembering all the stories about the nearby workhouse and the ghosts of those wretched creatures.

  It was after midnight and there was still no sign of either of the Parrishes. The baby monitor was silent. That should mean the children were sleeping peacefully. Mags wondered if she ought to go check on them. She had no faith in these baby-minding gadgets. There had been nothing like that when she was rearing her daughter. Yet, if she went to their rooms she might wake them, and how would she cope with three screaming children?

  The phone on the coffee table rang again. That was the fifth time in the last hour. She had seen Leah take her phone with her, so she assumed the one here must belong to Ben Parrish.

  Leah had said she would not be long. So where was she? Claire would soon be due her last dose of painkillers. Mags had given Leah time enough. She needed to get back to her own daughter.

  She was about to contact Claire when her phone rang. It was Viv Henderson with some really interesting news.

  “Mags, did you know Leah Parrish is out searching for her husband? She came into the bar but we hadn’t seen him at all.”

  “I’m at her house, minding the children. She never told me he was missing. Just said he was out.”

  Viv’s voice dropped to a whisper. Mags had to lower the volume on the TV to hear her.

  “Well, a certain artistic lady has apparently packed up and is leaving Paircmoor. Rumour has it that her admirer might be going with her.”

  Mags said nothing. She could not because her thoughts had flown back twenty-four years to when her husband and his mistress had done a midnight fli
t, leaving her with a toddler and a broken heart that had never quite mended. Viv knew that too, so she could have tried to keep the gloating out of her voice. And, yes, Mags had heard the gossip about Ellen Riggs and Ben Parrish, always cosying up to each other at the school gates and on outings with the children. Poor Leah.

  “I’d better go check on the children, Viv. Thanks for ringing.”

  She had no doubt that Viv was already on to the next person on her contact list. And, in a moment of honesty, Mags admitted that she herself was often the person to pass on the gossip. Unless it was about unfaithful husbands.

  The phone on the coffee table rang for the sixth time. Annoyed, Mags left her armchair and went to the table. The ringing stopped as soon as she got there. She turned the screen towards her. Six missed calls. She swiped the screen. Hmm! The first call had been from Ellen Riggs. Maybe there was truth in the rumour after all. The name on the other five calls made Mags pick up Ben’s phone. Without thinking she pressed the return-call icon. She understood this woman. After all, they were both mothers.

  Her call was answered on the second ring.

  “Ben! Thank goodness! I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. Everything OK?”

  The line was a bit crackly and the woman’s voice was soft. Her accent posh.

  Mags cleared her throat.

  “Hello. My name is Mags Hoey. I’m at Cowslip Cottage babysitting for Leah.”

  There was a pause before the woman spoke again.

  “Oh! Hello, Mags. I’m Della Parrish, Ben’s Mum. How come you’re answering my son’s phone?”

  Mags also wondered why. She reasoned it had been a kind impulse to help an anxious mother. The missed calls had been from Mum. Mags was founder member of the Worried Mother Club. And yes, she was nosey. Defensive also now about being questioned.

  “Ben left it behind when he went out. Leah’s gone looking for him.”

  “What do you mean, she’s gone looking for him? Does she not know where he is?”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Do you mean he’s missing? Since when?”

  The accent was still cultured but the voice was no longer soft. In fact, it had gone up ten notches from calm to utterly panicked in seconds.

  “Tell me what you know, Mags.”

  “Look, Della, all I know is that your daughter-in-law went out for Ben and said she wouldn’t be long. Why don’t you, ring Leah? And tell her I’m waiting to hear from her too.”

  The call was cut with an abrupt “Thank you”.

  Mags went back to her armchair and settled herself comfortably in front of the TV.

  Instinct told her the wait would be long, and that the fallout from whatever was going on with Ben Parrish would last even longer.

  When I looked at the time on my phone, it had been just twenty minutes since Ben had been wheeled away. It felt like twenty years. I paced the hospital Family Room. Ten steps from chair to television wall. Twelve from water dispenser to opposite wall. Up and down, forward and back. Every time I heard footsteps in the corridor outside I dashed to the door. It was never Doctor Nyhan or the nurse who had shown me to the room. I wondered what would happen if I walked into Resus. At least I would see him. Or would I? Maybe they had already pulled a sheet over his lifeless body. Called the time of death.

  The functioning part of my brain told me I watched too many medical dramas on TV. Also that I should contact Mags and let her know where I was. I guessed she would be upset at having to stay longer but there was nothing I could do about it. Unable to cope with listening to Mags’ objections, I texted her instead.

  Sorry for keeping you so long. Ben in hospital. Will explain when I see you.

  Almost instantly I had a reply back.

  Don’t worry about the children. Will take care of them. Hope Ben will be OK. Told his mother you were out looking for him. xx

  Oh, shit! How had Mags been in contact with Della Parrish? I would not have called her until I had more definite news but I didn’t have a choice now.

  I dialled her number.

  She answered immediately. “Leah? What’s going on? Where’s Ben?”

  I should have planned how I was going to tell her what I then knew. That her son was critically ill.

  I heard laughter in the background and imagined them all, Hugh and Piper and Della, the successful Parrishes, lounging around the swimming pool.

  “Leah! Talk to me!”

  “He’s had an accident. He was rescued by the people in Cliff House and the paramedics wrapped him in a foil blanket but –”

  “Cliff House? Am I right in assuming that’s by the sea?

  “Yes. The people there saw Ben going down onto the strand at high tide and –”

  There was a sound. A guttural noise so primal I would never have associated it with Della. I was stunned into silence and apparently so was she. I heard someone talk to her and then take the phone from her.

  Hugh’s affected American drawl, laced with remnants of his native Irish accent, sounded in my ear.

  “Leah? Hugh here. Could you repeat what you told Mum, please?”

  “Ben went out for a run, a walk. I don’t know. Anyway, he ended up being marooned in a cave at high tide. There’s a big storm here. He had to be rescued.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In hospital. In Resus. He has hypothermia. They’re warming him up but I don’t know yet how it’s going.”

  “Okay. Just give me the hospital number and I’ll ring.”

  “There’s no need for you to do that, Hugh. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news.”

  “I’d prefer to talk to them myself, if you don’t mind.”

  I did mind. Every time Hugh opened his mouth to speak down to me, I minded. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I mumbled the number for him. He would look it up online anyway. It wouldn’t do him much good. I was Ben’s next-of-kin and the only person to whom they would give Ben’s medical details.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Keep in touch, Leah. Mum will be home as soon as we can book her on a flight.”

  Then he was gone. So was all my courage and what energy I had left.

  I sat on the armchair beside the water dispenser and cried.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  There was a rumbling sound. The sea. And a steady whoosh. The wind. Ben was being carried along quickly. Smoothly. He opened his eyes and wondered why there were no waves and why intermittent lights flashed above his head. He felt a mask on his face, a needle in his arm. His eye lids closed. He remembered where he had been. He had left the decision to the sea. To take him and wash him clean of failure and despair.

  “He’s waking,” someone said.

  Hands touched him. Lifted him and lay him down on something soft and dry. Not water. The sea had spat him out.

  “Ben!” a voice called. “Ben, can you hear me?”

  His eyes flickered open. He did not recognise the face peering in to his. The girl was young, a stethoscope draped around her neck.

  “You’re in hospital,” she said. “We’re treating you for hypothermia.”

  So fate had decided. He would see the children again. And Leah. But not Ellen. Never again. He would collect Unemployment Benefit because Leah did not want him to go to California. He did not want to go either because he knew he would fail. It’s what he did. His mum would be so disappointed in him. Again. For fuck’s sake!

  He felt his heart begin to beat very quickly. His pulse throbbed in his ears. A big weight, maybe a rock, hit him on the chest. The young girl with the stethoscope issued instructions while someone else pressed an alarm.

  His eyes closed. It was difficult to get air into his lungs but he didn’t struggle too hard. He was enjoying his journey towards the beautiful light that was drawing him forward. The essence of Ben, the inner perpetual child who cried and cowered in darkness, reached out to the light. Someone was trying to drag him back.

  He fought for his place in the light while around him, the
hospital staff fought for his life.

  By the time the door to the Family Room opened, I was no longer expecting good news.

  Doctor Nyhan walked in slowly, her head bowed. When she looked up her face reflected the ravages of the life-and-death battles she fought daily on behalf of her patients.

  “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting so long, Mrs Parrish. Do you mind if I sit while we talk?”

  I motioned to the chair opposite me. She slumped onto the seat. I got the impression she would have curled herself into a ball on the floor if the chair had not been there to support her. Is this how she had envisaged her career unfolding when she had been studying so hard to get her medical degree? Maybe she was seeing past the overcrowded, understaffed conditions of public hospitals in order to reach the goal of a consultancy ahead. And why was I in the least concerned about this stranger when I should be asking about Ben? The truth was I did not want hear the words I knew she was obliged to say.