Long Valley Road

by Ross Richdale

  Seconds later John came out with a concerned look. "Can you come in, Fiona?" he asked. "Poor Harold is in a bad way."

  The neat clean interior was almost expected after the neat grounds but Fiona's eyes were on the man lying on a corner bed. His blankets were thrown aside and one sheet covered the perspiring face, rolled back eyes and heaving chest.

  "He's delirious," Fiona gasped and rushed over to the bedside. She took the thin wrist and felt for the man's pulse. "His heart's racing and he has a high fever."

  "And this is why," grunted John.

  He pulled the sheet in his hand further back to show the left upper leg and knee swollen like a balloon above a blood stained bandage wrapped around the calf muscle.

  Fiona examined the bandage. "It's been well wrapped but needs to come off." She grimaced and unwrapped it to show a massive purple ulcer oozing pale yellow liquid. "My God," she hissed. "The poor man. He needs medical attention straight away."

  "I'll get on the mobile phone," John replied and rushed out to the Land Rover.

  Fiona searched around, filled a tin basin with water and dabbed a face cloth over Harold's forehead. "You silly man," she scolded. "Why didn't you call us a week ago? We would have helped you."

  The man's eyes flickered and focused on her. "Aggie?" he gasped in a quiet voice. "I knew you'd come."

  "I'm not Aggie but John's mother-in -law. We brought your groceries up. Remember, you spoke to me on the phone this morning."

  "Oh yes," Harold muttered but still appeared disorientated. "I remember. Was I saying something just now?"

  "You thought I was Aggie. Was she your wife?"

  Harold shook his head, spluttered and broke into a choking cough. For a full minute he coughed, thanked Fiona for the glass of water she held up to his lips and sipped the liquid. "Fool of a leg," he muttered and swung into a sitting position. "It started as a minor cut but my usual ointment never worked."

  "You poisoned your system," Fiona cut in. "You need urgent treatment, young man."

  Harold's crinkled bearded face broke into a grin. "Young man, madam! I could give you ten years." He broke into another coughing spasm and wiped a crisp white handkerchief over his shaking lips.

  "I doubt it," Fiona retorted. She tucked an arm around the thin shoulders and held the glass back up. "Here take a sip and call me Fiona."

  "Thank you, Fiona."

  John appeared with Sissy trotting along by his ankles. "A helicopter is on its way," he said. He glanced across at the elderly man. "I told you we would help you any time, Harold."

  "I didn't want to bother you." The elderly man gave a thin smile. "With that young family of yours and the farm to look after, an old recluse is just a hindrance."

  John shook his head, gave the man an affectionate squeeze on the arm and turned to his mother-in-law. "They estimate twenty five minutes before the helicopter arrives," he said.

  "But what about Sissy?" Harold's face creased into a worried frown.

  "We'll look after her," Fiona added. "The girls will love to have a cute little dog to care for until you're better."

  "If you say so," the man muttered. He lay down again, his eyes closed and within a minute he had lapsed into a restless sleep.

  "At least he knows help has arrived," Fiona whispered as she re-wiped his forehead. "He must have been in pain for weeks."

  "Stubborn old fool," John added. "If it wasn't for his groceries arriving it could have been a week or more before I checked on him."

  "And that would have been too late," Fiona grimaced. "He's a very ill man."

  *

  Two days later Fiona came off the phone and glowered at John. "They got to Harold on time and he is over the worst," she said. "But according the nurse I talked to, not one person has visited him."

  "Perhaps nobody knows he's there," John suggested.

  "But doesn't the hospital contact next-of-kin or close friends? What about this Aggie?"

  "I guess the hospital couldn't find her"

  "Well, I'm going in to visit him. It's the least I can do. Do you want to come or shall I drive myself?"

  "I'll come," John replied, "I’ll ring Kylena and ask her to keep the girls until we get back." He glanced at his watch. "It's still quite early. We shouldn't be too late."

  *

  On arrival at Palmerston North Hospital, the pair were directed to Harold's private room and found him propped up by three pillows.

  "Thanks for your card. I received it yesterday," he said and smiled at the visitors.

  Fiona felt a pinch of sorrow when she saw the one card sitting on the side bench .The poor man, ill in hospital and nobody else even cared enough to send a card. How could this be? This man was not some old derelict. Surely there must be family and friends somewhere.

  "How is Sissy?" the patient continued.

  "Fine," replied John. "The girls have taken her under their wing and Bella treats her like a long lost buddy."

  "They know each other from when they were both puppies," Harold replied with a whimsical look.

  "And yourself?" Fiona asked. "How are you?"

  "Oh, I'm fine. They've pumped me full of antibiotics and lanced the leg." He poked a newly bandaged leg out from the covers. Above the bandage the swelling had gone down and it appeared almost normal. The conversation continued with casual talk about the weather and so forth as is done in a hospital until Harold looked directly at his visitors. "They're thinking of sending me to a nursing home," he said in a harsh whisper.

  Fiona frowned. "Why, Harold?" she asked.

  The man shrugged. "Modern policies. Public hospitals only take acute cases now. Once one goes into recovery mode it's up to the private patients to cater for their own needs. There are several excellent nursing homes in Palmerston North and I guess I can afford it."

  "I see," John rubbed his chin. "But is it really necessary?"

  "I'll be okay." The eyes though, told a different story. They were filled with despair and that sense of hopelessness sometimes seen in refugees or other people who have lost control of their own lives.

  At that moment a nurse appeared. "Excuse me," she said, "could you drop in to see Charge Nurse Holloway on your way out? She's in the nurse’s station."

  The pair nodded, chatted to the patient for a while, promised to return and made their way up the corridor to the glass enclosed office.

  "I'm glad you visited," the charge nurse said.

  "Doctor Bentley gave the name Sissy as the next-of-kin. When I asked for a surname he wrote down his own." She pointed to the document in front of her. "I couldn't trace a Sissy Bentley.”

  "Doctor?" Fiona queried.

  "That's what he wrote down. He listed his profession as a retired associate professor," Charge Nurse Holloway continued. "Do you know of a Sissy Bentley?"

  "We do," John replied with a slight frown. "Sissy is his dog."

  "Try the name Aggie," Fiona suggested and told of Harold's cries back at his cabin.

  The woman grimaced. "He gave his address as Top Oasis Farm, R.D.2, Hunterville. Is that made up, too?"

  "No," replied John. "That's our place. Harold rents a cabin on our farm."

  "So what happens now?" Fiona asked.

  "We can keep him one more day," The charge nurse replied. "His leg is responding to treatment but somebody has to change his bandage and drain the wound every day. I don't think it is wise for him to be by himself. Part of the reason for this infection was that he was not having a balanced diet. Without one, the symptoms could return."

  "So it wasn't a cut on the leg that caused it?" John interjected.

  "Oh that could have been the catalyst but basically his whole body is run down. The good news is we could detect no disease or any artificial stimulants like alcohol or drugs in his system. With a healthy diet he should recover fully." She sighed. "We're worried, though. The hospital psychologists spent a brief time with him but didn't get far. Doctor Bentley is suffering from depression and, what you'd call in everyday lang
uage, basic loneliness. It's as if he doesn't care any longer." She glanced up. "That is why we recommended a nursing home. At least he would have company and professional care there.”

  Fiona gripped John's arm. "I want to help," she stated in a determined voice." If he comes home, I'll care for him."

  "But he's a stranger and we really know nothing about him, Fiona."

  "As much as I knew about you when Annie decided to shift into your apartment with Julie on the way," Fiona retorted then relaxed into a soft smile, "I guessed you were a nice guy. I feel the same about Harold."

  "He mightn't want to come?"

  "Then we can do no more but at least we made the offer."

  *

  It took persuasion and applied pressure by Charge Nurse Holloway before a compromise with Harold was reached. She told John on Saturday when they arrived to pick him up that she'd been quite frank with her patient and had told him he was lucky to have people who cared. Also, if he didn't accept their offer she would apply for a court order for him to be transferred to a nursing home until his wounds were clear. After the ultimatum, he agreed to be released in John and Fiona's care and to move into the cottage Reid vacated to return to university.

  When he walked to the Fairmont filled with the family, Kylena, Bella and Sissy, he immediately picked the tiny dog up and Fiona was sure she noticed a tear in the his eye.

  "Nursing homes won't allow pets," he said after he placed Sissy in the wagon and slid in the back seat.

  "You must be Julie," he said to the girl next to him. "And Helen in the front seat. I have met Miss Delton, our school teacher"

  "Hello Doctor Bentley," Julie said in a shy voice. "I've seen your jeep around the farm."

  Harold's eyes lit up at her voice. "And I heard all about you, Julie," he said. "I had a daughter who was once your age and she was a real artist. She could draw anything."

  "So that was Aggie?" Fiona asked.

  "Yes, her real name was Angelina but she was always Aggie to me."

  "And where is she now?" Fiona asked.

  I haven't seen her for twenty-three years. After my wife left, there was a custody battle." He shrugged. “Her mother took her to Australia so I couldn't even use my visitation rights. I tried writing and sending gifts but they were returned unopened. The last contact I had was in the form of a court letter on her eighteenth birthday stating I was not required to pay child support any longer. I wrote and asked if they knew her address but received no reply. That was seventeen years ago." He glanced across at Julie and gave a crinkled smile. "She was your age the last time I saw her."

  "Oh, how awful," the youngster responded.

  "That's life," the man whispered and made a point to change the topic as they drove out of town and headed back towards the distant hills.

  *

  Long Valley Road at seven on the cool autumn morning was pounded by running feet as the American farmer, covered in perspiration, attempted to keep pace with the petite twenty five year old school teacher. Way ahead, though, the twelve-year-old girl and a barking bearded collie stopped at the Top Oasis driveway. The girl began cool down exercises as she gasped for breath.

  The annual inter-school cross-country race was coming up and Julie was a serious contender. She pressed the stopwatch mode button and glanced at the digits.

  "We've shaved another two minutes off the time, Bella," she panted and grinned as her father and teacher came panting in. "What kept you guys?" she shouted.

  Though red in the face, Kylena appeared quite fresh but John gritted his teeth and grasped at his stomach.

  "What's wrong my dear?" Kylena laughed and slung an arm around her companion. "Can't stand the pace, aye?"

  "Stitch," grunted John then broke into a grin and squeezed her in a tight embrace. "Okay, I admit it. You two are too good for me. I think I'll take a leisurely walk with Harold tomorrow."

  "Talk of the devil," Kylena replied and glanced up to where the thin bearded man appeared followed by his little dog. In his hand was his usual green covered drawing pad.

  Harold walked up with a slight smile and stared straight at Julie, "And how did you go lassie?" he said. "Did you follow my suggestions?"

  "Two minutes off, Harold," Julie replied. "Your idea of shortening my stride on the steepest parts worked."

  John glanced at Kylena and raised his eyebrows. Since Harold's shift into the farm cottage an affinity had grown between him and the girls. The man in question hesitated and flipped over the pages of his notebook. He carefully pulled out a page and handed it to Julie.

  "For you," he muttered and glanced away.

  Julie studied the page and gasped. On it was a beautiful pencil drawing of herself jogging up their drive with Bella close behind. The details were perfect, right down to the shadows and autumn leaves on the trees behind.

  "Harold!” she gasped. "It's wonderful. Look Dad, Kylena," she added and thrust the page in her father's hand. "It's like a photograph."

  "Better than a photograph," John said and smiled across at Harold. "So that's why you've been waiting on the roadside the last three mornings?"

  Harold shrugged. "Just a little sketch." he added modestly.

  "I love it, Harold." Julie smiled and turned back to the elderly man. "Grandma told me to invite you to breakfast and you aren’t allowed to turn her invitation down."

  "Well," Harold replied as he ran a hand over his beard. "If you put it that way, Julie I guess I'll have to come. Thank you. I can't have your Grandma saying I'm a snob, now can I?"

  *

  It was almost a month since Harold had shifted into the cottage and his talents and quiet personality soon became part of their lives. As well as being a skilled artist, he knew the name of every plant and insect in the district and had an excellent knowledge of the geology of the district. They learnt he'd first come to Top Oasis ten years previously while working for the Department of Survey and Land Information to upgrade topographical maps of the area. When his contract had expired he'd taken early retirement and just stayed on. Except for the initial brief information about his daughter, though, he had made no mention of his family or earlier life.

  The smell of ham and eggs cooking filled the air as the group filed in the house and hived off to use the three bathrooms. Kylena, as usual, had brought work clothes to the house in her little white Toyota before the morning run.

  Fiona looked up from where she'd just placed a steaming plate of food in front of Helen and cast her warm eyes on Harold. “So you did come," she said.” I’m so pleased."

  "Sit by me, Harold," Helen called out and waved him to a seat.

  "I'd love to lassie," he replied. "How is that story you were writing?"

  Helen laughed. "Finished Harold, but I still spell words wrong." She shrugged." I forget to put in capital letters, too but I drew a picture to go with it."

  "You used lots of bright colours, I hope."

  "I did," Helen swung her legs back and forth in delight, "And I didn't just make a line across the top of the page for the sky."

  Meanwhile, Julie rushed back in with a towel around her wet hair and handed the sketch to her grandmother." Harold drew it Grandma," she explained

  "Oh, Harold," Fiona smiled after she’d inspected the portrait. "It's so realistic it's uncanny."

  Breakfast was a busy time at Top Oasis Farm.

  *

  Julie stared across at her competitors at the starting line. Some of the girls looked huge but one wiry girl name Geraldine from Junction Road School, she knew, would be her main opposition. Ahead, in the Senior Girls' Cross Country, were three kilometres of hard slog up a steep hill, along a ridge, down to a stream, up another steep slope, another ridge and a final descent to the finish line. She did her last stretching exercises and glanced up to where Dad, Grandma and Harold were all watching with expectant looks.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she found Kylena beside her. "Just do your best, Julie," she said.

  "I will, Kylena," Julie repli
ed and attempted a smile. Her heart raced and hands were gummy with sweat.

  "Okay girls, " announced another teacher who held the starting pistol. It was time!

  In spite of her apprehension by the top of the first hill, Julie was in front and stretching her lead with every stride. She swung over a wooden gate and plunged down to the stream, straight in with water splashing everywhere but it cooled her. In seconds she was out the other side and into a problem. The far side was a slimy swamp and she sprawled head first into the stinky stuff.

  This, though, was a minor hindrance. She staggered to her feet, wiped mud from her eyes and ignored her saturated shorts and top that clung to her. Her sneakers squelched but she found her footing and took time to glance back. There were only spectators in sight and shouts of encouragement reached her ears.

  She started up the next hill and found the going so automatic, her mind wandered. She thought about Kylena. When her teacher began hanging around the farm she felt it was wrong. Teachers were there to teach, not to have a personal life, especially with her father. But, Kylena was so good to them all she couldn't help but like her. Daddy just seemed to sparkle with life and she was so glad he was happy.

  There was a fence to cross. Funny, three quarters of the way through the race and she felt less exhausted than at the beginning.

  ...And Grandma. She was glad Grandma had come to New Zealand. Even old Harold was a great old guy. Julie smiled. She missed lots of little things from home but was glad she was here, right now, running across this farm with friends cheering her on.

  She glanced back once again and saw a lone figure coming over the rise. That would be Geraldine. The girl wasn't much of a threat after all. Julie started on the last section down the hill and almost slid rather than ran down. She had almost reached the bottom when it happened!

  One second she was running and in the next there was a violent pain in her right ankle and the world spun in front of her. She was falling but could do little about it.