by Edie Baylis
Thank God.
The door opening made Joe look up from the spot on the floor he’d fixated on. He got up from the chair quickly. ‘Any news?’
After the two accompanying nurses had entered the room behind him, the doctor shut the door and looked between Dave and Joe. ‘Am I right in understanding that you are Mr Hardwick’s next of kin?’
Joe looked at Dave wearing a panicked expression he suspected mirrored his own.
‘Alan’s mother is dead and he lost contact with his father many years ago. We wouldn’t have any idea where to find him, that’s if he’s still alive,’ Joe explained.
‘We’ve been Alan’s next of kin since we moved in together.’ Dave added. The first words he’d spoken since the police had left.
Joe felt sickness rise. Asking about next of kin wasn’t a good sign. No, actually, that was the done thing in hospitals - no need to panic. Doctors couldn’t discuss personal details with random people – it didn’t necessarily mean anything dreadful. It was just the results, that’s all.
Forcing a smile, Joe sat back down. ‘How did the tests go? How long do you think it will be before Alan can ge...’
‘We have the test results,’ the doctor interrupted, not returning Joe’s smile. ‘I’m afraid the news isn’t good.’
‘N-Not good?’ Dave glanced at Joe. ‘Does that mean Alan will be in coma for a bit longer? How much longer do you think it will be?’
The doctor leafed through the sheets attached to the clipboard in his hand. ‘As you know we took Mr Hardwick for scans first thing this morning. He’s also undergone extensive tests with our neurological team.’
Joe and Dave glanced at each other again. Yes, they knew this - they said yesterday. Was he going to get to the point?
‘We discussed the findings at length in our MDT this afternoon and we all reached the same conclusion.’
Joe felt his feet twitching inside his shoes. This wasn’t good. If it was good, then the doctor wouldn’t be dragging it out. ‘Ok and what is...’
‘Unfortunately, Mr Hardwick’s tests show there is no brain activity and...’
‘What do you mean, no brain activity?’ Joe spluttered. What did that mean? ‘How long will it be before it comes back?’ He looked at Dave, disturbed to see his head in his hands. Dave knew more about this sort of stuff than he did. ‘What does it mean? Wh...’
‘It means,’ the doctor said patiently, ‘that I’m afraid Mr Hardwick is brain dead. It isn’t a case of this rectifying itself or resuming unfortunately and...’
‘What he’s saying is that they want to switch the life support system off,’ Dave muttered, his voice hoarse.
Joe blinked, stared at Dave and then back at the doctor. What? Switch the life support off? Did that mean...? ‘T-That’s not what you’re saying, is it? Tell him that’s not what you’re saying,’ he cried, his voice lost even in the small room. ‘Look, he’s breathing. His brain must be doing something. It can’t be completely fu...’
‘The ventilators and other machines are doing the work, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, Mr Hardwick will never regain consciousness.’
Joe swallowed hard. ‘But if you switch the machines off, then... then he’ll die, won’t he?’ he cried. ‘That’s not what you’re saying? That can’t be what you’re saying?’
The doctor glanced at the nurse awkwardly. ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘In layman’s terms, Alan is already dead,’ Dave rasped. ‘And the doctor is saying the best decision is to let him go.’
Joe let out a sob. This couldn’t be happening.
EVEN THOUGH SHE’D GOT the rest of the day to get through, Teagan could barely contain her excitement about tonight’s date with Darren.
That’s if it was a date? Her heart pounded. What if she was reading too much into this?
Looking in the mirror, Teagan patted her hair, making sure she looked presentable before she went back downstairs. Having splashed bleach on her trousers whilst cleaning the bathroom, she’d have no clothes left at this rate. Nerves were making her all fingers and thumbs.
She smiled at her reflection. She wasn’t reading too much into dinner with Darren. It had to be a date. You didn’t send a massive bunch of roses to a woman and ask them to dinner if it wasn’t a date.
Teagan was so happy about this realisation, she’d almost been able to put the decision about Joe’s request out of her mind. Almost – but not quite. It still niggled that just because she’d refused to hand over the keys didn’t mean it was over. What if those men broke in regardless?
She needed to tell him that she knew the real reason the men wanted to look here – and that was because he’d lied. She needed to tell him to sort it and take the rap himself.
It was strange that Joe hadn’t harangued her though. She’d fully expected to receive countless abusive texts and calls by now, but there had been nothing. Nothing since she’d sent him that text earlier. A glimmer of worry formed. She hoped nothing had happened.
Mentally brushing the intruding worry away, Teagan left her bedroom and began the long descent down the three staircases to the ground floor. She wouldn’t let anything spoil her excitement today. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked forward to something so much.
Nearing the ground floor, Teagan was surprised to hear Helen’s voice. Approaching the sitting room, she hovered in the hallway, unsure whether to interrupt.
‘I really haven’t got time for this, mother,’ Helen snapped, her voice terse. ‘I’ve come round between appointments especially to drop these off and you’re doing nothing but making things difficult.’
‘I’ve already told you, I don’t like taking those things.’
Dulcie’s voice was petulant, like a child and Teagan could just imagine the expression she wore right at this very minute. Should she go in? She could tell by Helen’s voice that she was stressed. The poor woman had enough on her plate at the moment without this and what she’d said about Dulcie the other night probably hadn’t helped.
Taking a deep breath, Teagan breezed into the sitting room, hoping Helen wouldn’t let on that they’d conversed the previous day. ‘Oh! Hello Helen,’ she smiled, feigning surprise. ‘Nice to see you. How are you?’
Looking up, irritation flashed briefly over Helen’s face before it morphed into an impatient smile. ‘Ah, glad you’re here. Please explain to my mother that it’s imperative to take these vitamins.’ Snatching two bottles from the table, she held them out towards Teagan. ‘I keep telling her, but she’s being difficult.’
‘I am here, you know!’ Dulcie barked. ‘I’m not a child!’
‘You’re acting like one!’ Walking towards Teagan, Helen gave her a knowing roll of the eyes. ‘She needs to take these after dinner.’ She held one bottle up higher than the other. ‘And these in the morning.’
Dulcie cut daggers at the back of her daughter’s head. ‘Since when do vitamins need to be taken at certain times? Maybe you’d like to tell me that?’
Helen span around. ‘Because mother, these are special ones recommended by the health food shop. They’re supposed to work wonders, especially for people li...’
‘For people like me, you were going to say?’ Dulcie angrily got to her feet. ‘You mean, mad people? Is that what you meant?’
Teagan shuffled from one foot to the other awkwardly. She hadn’t heard of vitamins requiring taking at specific times either, but what did she know? Helen had obviously researched it, the poor woman. She was only trying to do her best.
‘Come now, Dulcie,’ Teagan soothed. ‘Helen didn’t say that. I’m sure you’ll get a whole new burst of energy with these. I could probably do with some myself!’ She smiled, hoping to bring the situation down as Helen and Dulcie eyed each other in a strange kind of stand-off.
‘Well, Teagan can’t make sure I take them tonight because she’s going out!’ Dulcie said, the hint of a sneer playing on her lips.
Helen turned to Teagan. ‘Out? It’s not your day off?’<
br />
‘I gave her the evening off. She’s got a dinner date with a lovely young man.’ Dulcie’s eyes gleamed, pleased with herself.
Heat crowded Teagan’s face. ‘I’ll cancel it. You’re right, Helen. It’s not my day off and this is more important. I can go another time.’ She didn’t want to add to the antagonistic atmosphere and neither did she want Helen getting the impression she was taking advantage of Dulcie’s generosity. It was the last thing she’d do.
Besides, if these vitamins helped then that was the most important thing. Dulcie would need all the strength she could get when the news was broken that she was going to a specialist home.
‘You won’t do any such thing!’ Dulcie cried. ‘Like I said – I gave you the evening off, Teagan. I was the one who badgered you into accepting dinner with that young man and will be most put out if you don’t go.’
Helen frowned. The urge to scream was overwhelming, but she needed to keep a handle on this. She couldn’t afford to alienate or offend the Teagan girl by insinuating she wasn’t doing her job. She needed her on side more than ever right now. She really must hold her tongue no matter how difficult it was. It won’t be for much longer.
‘Just trying to help, mother. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Helen calmly placed her hand on Dulcie’s shoulder, when really she wanted to dig her nails into her mother’s scrawny flesh and keep them there until she stopped hindering her plans. ‘Right, I really must go.’ Glancing at Teagan, she left the sitting room.
‘I’ll just see Helen out,’ Teagan said. ‘I won’t be a moment.’
In the hallway, Helen remained silent until she reached the front door. ‘See what I mean?’ she muttered.
‘I didn’t want to cause problems,’ Teagan apologised. ‘I’ll cancel the dinner. That way I can make sure Dulcie takes those vitamins. I’m sure deep down she appreciates you’re trying to help.’
Helen shook her head, ignoring the urge to slap this silly little thing around the face. ‘No, it’s fine. You go on your date. You’ve enough to put up with as it is. I’ll come round this evening and keep mother company.’ And I’ll crush the pills up and hide them in her food if I have to. Either that or shove the whole bottle down her throat.
‘Are you sure? I really don’t mind. I...’
‘I’m sure,’ Helen said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Teagan walked back down the hallway and smiled happily. She was still going out with Darren after all.
‘As I said,’ Dulcie said matter of factly as Teagan returned to the sitting room. ‘She’s trying to poison me. Surely you can see that now? I told you, didn’t I?’
The smile dropped from Teagan’s face. Not this again. Refusing to let anything put her on a downer, she grabbed a pack of playing cards from the side table. ‘Come on, I challenge you to a game of knockout whist.’
Thirty
JOE WALKED DOWN THE ROAD in a daze, unsure how his legs were moving one in front of the other. Somehow they were and it was a good job because without certain parts of his body working independently of his mind, it was unlikely he’d be able to breathe right now either.
He felt numb. Completely numb.
Dave walked silently beside him. Both of them unable to put into words what was in their heads. What could either of them possibly say that would make any of this better?
Joe blinked away the brimming tears, still unable to comprehend what had happened. It all felt surreal and he wasn’t sure how to process it in what was left of his brain.
All he wanted to do now was to get drunk. He wanted to get completely hammered in the hope that he would pass out, affording him rest that wouldn’t be plagued with a persistent looping nightmare - the sort when something you really didn’t want to happen, happened and no matter how many times you attempted to influence the dream, it played out in an identical way as before. Over and over. And there was nothing that could be done to stop it.
Shoving his hand in his pocket, Joe fished out a packet of half-crushed cigarettes. He pulled out two rather sad, bent fags and handed one to Dave, who took it with shaking hands.
Lighting the cigarette, Joe inhaled, the nicotine rushing to his head. He hadn’t had one for hours. After the doctor had left them alone to take in the news about Alan, he’d gone outside for a fag then, but it hadn’t helped. Stalling for time wasn’t going to make a difference. None whatsoever.
‘Fuck!’ Joe spat, kicking a can on the pavement. Nothing would make him feel better. Nothing.
Alan – one of his bestest buds was dead. And it was because of him. If he hadn’t gone round to dump Teagan that day... If he hadn’t been at that fucking house when those bastards were watching it... If he’d just let things with Teagan slide on for longer, like they had done for years already, then...fuck. He’d rather have put up with Teagan’s bunny boiler crap for ever if it meant Alan hadn’t taken the brunt of the shit.
Joe screwed his face up to stop the tears. The list was endless. If he hadn’t fucked off that night... that night those bastards were due to come back, then Alan wouldn’t have copped it.
But then it would have been him instead...
No it wouldn’t. He could have explained he needed more time and that he’d sort it, but instead he’d legged it and left Alan to take the rap. Fuck.
Christ, he didn’t think he’d ever get the image out of his head. Every time he blinked he could see it. God knows what would happen when he eventually tried to get some sleep. That’s why he needed to obliterate himself tonight. He’d drink fucking meths if it meant he didn’t see that image stuck in his head.
Joe almost retched, his heart racing. Dave turned out to be the one with his head screwed on this afternoon, rather than him. Joe found he’d entered into a stage of denial with what the doctors had advised. There had been no point dragging it out, he knew that, but he’d started coming out with all sorts of rubbish as to what they could do to sort it; that Alan just needed some more time; that the test results were wrong; that it happened all the time – you name it, he’d suggested it – scrabbling around in the bottom of the barrel like a tramp.
Oh, he knew deep down – he just didn’t want to believe it. Refused to believe it.
Luckily, Dave made him to pull himself together. It was a good job as he was getting pretty close to being sedated himself. He’d been verging on hysteria. Yep, he’d well and truly lost it.
Dave made him see there was no other choice. To drag out Alan’s state of suspended animation was for their benefit, not his and it wasn’t helpful to anyone.
‘We’ve got to let him go, mate,’ Dave had said whilst Joe openly sobbed. He hadn’t cared who had been looking at him in the hospital’s café - he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d just wanted this not to be happening.
Dave had read the notes the doctor handed over first. Joe couldn’t see what he’d been reading when it got to his turn. He hadn’t wanted to see it. Words didn’t make a difference. Those notes could have said anything and however flowery they were worded, it made no difference. The short and curlies was that his mate’s life was over and he knew it.
Joe chucked his fag end into the gutter. He hadn’t even noticed he’d smoked it down to the filter until his lip burnt.
It hadn’t taken Alan long to go once the switch had been flicked. No time at all. Joe had presumed he would have seen it happening somehow, but he hadn’t. Death had nipped in quickly and silently and it was done. Alan was there and then afterwards, he was still there – physically, but had gone at the same time.
Afterwards, he’d sat immobile, not having a clue what he was supposed to do. Cry? Scream? No, he’d done all of that. Someone had pressed the pause button and forgotten to release it.
The nurses and the doctor had closed the curtain around Alan’s bed and then that was it. They could go. And here they were...
But what happened now?
Joe didn’t know. He had no bloody idea. Did they arrange a funeral? How did anyone go about doing that? Christ, he did
n’t know where to fucking start.
He groped in his pockets. He needed a joint. He needed something.
Anger burnt at the bottom of his spine, gradually creeping along it. If he saw those fuckers who had done this, then he’d kill them himself. They’d killed his mate. They had killed Alan.
Distracted by the off licence, Joe stopped. ‘Let’s go in here. I don’t know about you, but I need to get pissed and can’t face the pub,’ he said, his voice gravelly like he’d forgotten how to speak properly.
‘You and me both,’ Dave nodded, following Joe into the shop.
It didn’t take long to buy some vodka and beer, along with a shed load of fags. Armed with several carrier bags, Joe and Dave left the shop. Automatically looking ahead before he stepped into the road to be promptly mown down, Joe froze. Although it was tempting to get run over he was more concerned by who he recognised standing on the opposite side of the road.
Watching them intently was one of the men who had killed Alan – the ugly fucker with half an ear.
‘Fuck!’ Joe muttered, all of the previous bravado about wanting revenge on the bastards leaking out of him.
Dave nudged Joe’s elbow. ‘Keep walking,’ he hissed.
Joe’s jelly legs propelled him down the road in the opposite direction of the man. His body tensed, waiting for a bullet to embed itself into his back, but it didn’t. This lunatic must have followed them, but followed them since when? All the way from the hospital? It was no coincidence he should just suddenly show up outside of the off licence they happened to go in.
‘Is he following?’ Joe whispered. Getting no response from Dave who stared straight ahead as they continued down the street, he glanced over his shoulder, then rapidly looked back.
The big man wasn’t following, thank God, but he was watching; his beady, reptilian eyes burning holes into the back of Joe’s head like laser points; the hasty glance he’d taken was long enough to see the man casually tapping the side of his nose as he’d stared after them.
