by RJ Hunter
David was one of the lucky ones to be selected to join an exclusive programme of rehabilitation. It certainly wasn't easy, and at one point, David actually dropped out, only to end up back on the streets again. However, before he degenerated too far, David realised that the programme represented his only chance, and with determination, he was able to walk back through the doors of the clinic and resume.
"I'm not saying we can cure you," said Doctor Werner, upon David's return. "This is something you'll have to live with, but we can teach you how to cope with it."
After completing the programme, David felt more alive and focussed than he had for years. He began to accept that the boy's death, and that of the soldier were from no fault of his own. By losing a leg, David had paid a high enough price, and now it was time to think about himself and his future, instead of dwelling on events from the past that he was powerless to change.
Developing a passion for history and in particular, warfare and its causes, David was to return to full-time study. In 1980 he was finally granted his doctorate, but then took a sabbatical, and soon found himself falling into bad habits once again.
David stepped into the kitchen and washed up his coffee cup, before putting it back into one of the cupboards. He then went over to sit at the large oak table in the living room, and let his mind wander. He heard the laughter once more, he could clearly remember it as if it were yesterday. In his mind's eye, he visualised William, Sally and himself all sitting around the very same table. He remembered the countless bottles of wine, the records, playing charades, and Sally, it always came back to Sally. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and recalled how jealous he felt after he learnt she was pregnant with her first child, Jonathan.
Still with Sally in his thoughts, he turned to gaze at a framed picture of her, which adorned one of the walls. William had painted it on a hot day, back in the summer of 1963. Sally, not wanting to miss a moment of the brilliant sunshine had decided to change into her bikini and sunbathe out in the garden. She looked more stunning than ever during those early days of pregnancy, it was as if she had a sort of radiance about her. William could only stare in admiration at the woman who would soon become his wife and bear his children, as she laid back, soaking up the sun, her glorious, blonde tresses hanging loosely around her shoulders. He just had to capture her and that special moment on canvas, and it took him the best part of the day to perfect it. William had liked it so much, he insisted it be framed and hung on the wall for all to see and admire.
David was so taken aback by the painting, that he had to go over and take a closer look at it. He was amazed how William had added so much detail. It was exactly how she used to look. He looked at her face, her eyes, her lips, her curves, and couldn't help running his fingers gently over the painting's fine lines. He began to utter her name, wanting her, needing her there with him, but alas, he was rudely jolted out of his reflective mood by a loud knocking at the door.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses!" He called out, as the visitor knocked again.
Although he would always have a very pronounced limp, David could over short distances walk just as fast as anyone else, and this was one of those occasions when he did just that, as the confounded knocking continued.
"Hello, you must be Mr. Peddlescoombe?" Asked the breathless woman, standing in the porch. "Sorry, I'm so late, but I had to stop off at the shops to get a few bits and pieces for you."
"You must be Mrs. Owen?" Asked David in return, as the woman walked straight past him and into the house.
"Yes, that's right, I thought I'd better knock rather than use the key?"
"No, that's fine, Mrs. Owen, please use the key in future, I really don't mind." He followed the woman into the kitchen and watched as she took off her coat and began to unpack the shopping.
"I've got some lunch for you, Mr. Peddlescoombe. I'll see to that first. You do like home cooking don't you?"
"Yes, yes, I do, but Mrs. Owen, I wanted to talk to you first, please sit down for a moment."
The woman looked concerned.
"The devil makes work for idle hands, Mr. Peddlescoombe. There's nothing wrong is there?"
"No, of course not. I'm sorry, I didn't want to alarm you." David looked at her for a few moments, with a puzzled expression on his face. "Do I know you from somewhere. You seem very familiar?"
She smiled and got back up to continue her duties.
"I'm probably familiar, because I've lived in Falcondale all of my life, and I expect you've seen me around? My grandmother, Nancy, god rest her soul used to clean this house for more years than I can remember. In fact, you're quite familiar too, Mr. Peddlescoombe, I can recall you as a cocky young student some twenty years or so ago."
"Really? That's wonderful!" Laughed David. "I want to know all the news about Falcondale, Mrs. Owen, everything, since I've been away."
"You don't ask for much do you?" Replied the slim, motherly-looking woman with a broad grin. "But first we can start with you calling me by my first name, which is, Carol."
"It's a deal, Carol, but only if you call me David?"
"We'll have to see about that. But I can't be standing around here yapping all day, not while I'm being paid to work." She replied, placing a covered dish in the oven.
"That was superb, absolutely delicious!" Exclaimed David, a little later and somewhat enthusiastically, having just demolished a second helping of chicken casserole. Carol enjoyed being praised for her cooking, although her own family never let a single scrap go to waste, they rarely, if ever complimented her on her culinary skills, that she'd learnt over the years.
"Is it true that you'll be taking over from old Mr. Meredith?" Asked Carol, clearing the table.
"Yes, that's right. Mr. Meredith becomes Professor Emeritus, while I take over as Dean of Students."
"So, you'll be helping the new one's to settle in then?"
"That's right, but it's only a small part of my job." Replied David, intrigued by her interest.
"In that case, you'll be seeing my lad, Gareth. He starts in the Autumn term." Said Carol, her face beaming. "We're so proud of him. We've never had anyone go to university from my family before."
"That's wonderful news, Carol, I'll certainly look out for your Gareth among the freshers."
Carol stayed an hour longer than she should have done, and was able to tell David of all the comings and goings that had occurred in the town during his absence. But she never once sat down, and just carried on with her work as she spoke. David enjoyed her pleasant, down-to-earth company and found he was uplifted by her cheerful manner and often sarcastic sense of humour.
As Carol put on her coat to leave, she turned to David, as if she had forgotten something.
"Didn't you say earlier, you wanted to talk to me?"
Carol was right, he had wanted to talk to her earlier. He was going to tell her he didn't need anyone fussing around him, cooking meals and cleaning up. He was, after all, by his own admission, entirely self-sufficient.
He thought back to that delicious lunch Carol had brought for him. He thought about the warm tales she had told him, tales that reflected a local person's perspective on the town and the college community.
"It was nothing, Carol, nothing of any importance." Replied David in a re-assuring tone. "Can you drop by again tomorrow?"
Jonathan could hear the noise, the loud banging, the clattering, but for a few moments his mind just couldn't work out exactly where he was. He tried to will his eyes open, but they adamantly refused his feeble demands, and remained firmly shut. Although it was lunchtime, Jonathan didn't feel at all hungry. This was probably quite a good thing, since he seemed to have enough trouble simply just trying to deal with his overwhelming tiredness. The porters removed the remaining metal food trolleys from the lift and loaded them onto a trailer attached to an electric tug. As the odd-looking vehicle moved further away into the distance, there remained only the more familiar hospital sounds to disrupt his desperate attempts
to sleep. For most of the morning, the corridor had been a hive of activity, and before the weariness had eventually overtaken him, Jonathan had seen the early-morning cleaners arrive, who seemed to chat incessantly as they went about mopping the floor and polishing it to an impressive sheen with an electric buffing machine. A little later he had seen the nurses on the early shift arriving in their dark-coloured capes, and some wearing different uniforms to reflect their status in the nursing hierarchy. As the morning grew older, so the corridor became busier, white-coated doctors, physiotherapists, and radiographers pushing cumbersome X-ray machines all appeared going about their various duties in a calm, professional manner. He heard the confident, assured voices and the click of expensive shoes as the consultants went about their rounds, with clusters of youthful insubordinates following anxiously in their wake. Everyone seemed to be carrying a bleeper, some of which appeared only to evoke minor irritation, while others screeched and wailed demanding immediate attention.
Sometime after nine, there was a constant stream of patients being taken to and from the suites of operating theatres situated further along the corridor. The patients came and went in varying modes of transportation, from wheelchairs, stretcher-trolleys, to whole beds, complete with drip-stands, monitors and oxygen cylinders.
Every half-hour or so, Jonathan would wander into the intensive care unit to ask if there was any further news of Tina's condition. Getting little information he would amble back out and return to the torn and battered bench seat in the corridor. It must have been around ten thirty when he finally succumbed, and drifted off into a much-needed sleep. He could vaguely remember asking the woman pushing the WRVS trolley what time it was, after he had brought a couple of cans of coke, but everything else seemed quite hazy after that.
"Mr. Peddlescoombe, can you hear me?" Called out the chirpy female voice. Getting no response, the staff nurse tapped Jonathan lightly on the shoulder.
With a concerted effort, he forced his eyes open a few centimetres and noticed the woman who had been a little off hand with him earlier.
"Yes, yes, I'm awake. Is Tina alright?"
"It's far too early to say just yet." Replied the staff nurse, in a direct manner. "I'm going to the theatre now to collect the young lady. You may as well go home, you wont be able to see her."
"Thank-you, but I'd rather wait." Came Jonathan's reply.
Waiting was exactly what Jonathan had been doing since the ambulance had brought Tina into the accident and emergency unit at West Middlesex Hospital. It was around four in the morning when Tina had arrived, and following a blood transfusion and major surgery, her life still remained very much at risk.
According to Jonathan's calculations, Tina had been on the operating table for at least six hours. What he didn't know was that two separate surgical procedures had taken place at the same time. One team had been working to save Tina's left hand. Apart from arterial and nerve damage, the tendon was found to have been completely severed. Another, gynaecological team were desperately trying to halt the unrelenting haemorrhage caused by the razor blade that Tina had inserted into her vagina. To accomplish this, the surgeons had to make a further, abdominal incision in order to gain access to the damaged areas. In all, Tina had required thirteen units of blood, taken from the hospital's limited reserves. This situation, certainly didn't go down well with those who would have preferred to keep the blood for a more just and deserving cause.
The disturbing reality of the situation was brought into sharp perspective as Jonathan watched Tina being brought back to intensive care from the operating theatre. She was laying unconscious on a bed, with a respirator carrying out her breathing for her. In the background were the unmistakeable blips from a heart monitor. Swinging precariously above her head was a unit of blood. It was raised high, to allow the dark-red fluid to run down along a transparent tube, and return life to Tina, a life that she had earlier tried so hard to extinguish. As the nurse, anaesthetist and porter rushed past him with their assorted paraphernalia, Jonathan got a glimpse of the side of Tina's face. He didn't recognise her at all, it could have been anyone.
After opening his remaining can of coke, Jonathan lit a cigarette. There were numerous 'No Smoking' signs displayed on the walls, and normally he would have obeyed these, but now Jonathan was far too tired to care. He then checked his pockets for change, before trudging along to the line of payphones at the far end of the corridor.
"Jonathan, thank god it's you! We were so worried. Are you still at the hospital?" Asked Sally, concerned.
"Yes, but I'm coming back soon. Tina has only just come back from surgery."
"Is she going to be alright, Jonathan?"
"They wont tell me, Mum. It's because I'm not a relative, and couldn't give them any information about her."
"Please come back, Jonathan. You've done all you can."
"Is Laura and Penny, ok?"
"Penny has gone riding, but Laura was quite shaken up when you left. She's sleeping now. Listen, Jonathan, we've decided to set off for Wales on Monday instead - in view of all that's happened."
Jonathan returned to the bench and took up his vigil once more. He must have got his second wind now, for he didn't feel nearly so tired as he had earlier. The activity inside the intensive care unit had lessened somewhat, and the theatre team had since left. Jonathan was pensive, he was in two minds about going in again. He was genuinely concerned for Tina's welfare, but at the same time, he didn't want to interrupt the nurses when they might be busy. He was also very much aware of the suspicion he would be arousing in view of Tina's appalling injuries. Perhaps, they thought he had something to do with it? That would explain why they seemed so distant towards him. Jonathan cringed at the thought, and realised his tiredness may be affecting the clarity of his thinking. After another cigarette, he decided just to bide his time, and wait for another half-hour.
Flicking through an old copy of Reader's Digest, he became aware of someone coming out of the unit. It was the same nurse that had collected Tina from the theatre.
"Mr. Peddlescoombe, I thought you would have gone home by now. There's really no change."
"What do you mean, no change? Please stop all this pretence and tell me the truth."
The nurse saw the desperation in the young man's eyes, and sat down next to him.
"I think she'll pull through, given time, but only if she wants to. We're not sure about Tina's hand. There was a great deal of nerve damage, and she may need more specialist surgery." The nurse was about to say more, but paused.
"What? What is it? Please tell me." Pleaded Jonathan.
The nurse waited until a group of visitors had passed by, before turning back to him.
"The surgeon who operated on Tina said she will never be able to bear children. I'm sorry Mr. Peddlescoombe, she means something to you, doesn't she?"
Jonathan swallowed hard and felt his eyes begin to moisten. "Yes, I do believe she does."
20. THE BLACK LION
The incident during the early hours of Saturday morning hadn't affected Penny in any way, and if it did, she certainly wasn't showing it. Perhaps, it was because she was too young, and blissfully unaware of the circumstances that could cause a young woman to take such drastic action.
During the first part of the journey to Wales, along the busy M4 motorway, Penny had been the only one inclined to try and make conversation, but had to concede defeat after getting little response from either Sally or Laura. Both Penny's mother and older sister had been left completely numbed by the experience with Tina, and had only made the trip after being assured by Jonathan that she would pull through. They had talked over the matter a dozen times amongst themselves, anxious to know if their actions at the time had been right. Now they were both quiet and alone in their thoughts, trying to make sense of the insensible, searching for a suitable recess deep in their psyche where they could file the memory of such a traumatic event.
It had been Laura who finally broke the ice, when they pulled
over at a service station to get some coffee and stretch their legs.
"So how have you left things with this Frank chap, Mum, are you going to see him again?"
"Yes, I think I might." Replied Sally trying to sound enthusiastic. "In fact, I've invited him over for dinner at the weekend - well, it's the least I could do under the circumstances."
"I'm sure he'll love your cooking, and you wont have to worry about me being in the way, I'll be back on duty then." Added Laura, still surprised her mother was seeing Frank.
They finished their coffee and returned to the car feeling refreshed and in far better humour, having at least uttered a few words to each other. It was a grey, murky day that threatened heavy rain. This fortunately failed to materialise, but the dark, depressing conditions did add time to their journey. The conversation again petered out, and died a natural death, so Sally switched on the car's stereo and listened to Radio Two, while Laura and Penny seemed content to doze.
It was four in the afternoon when they finally reached Falcondale. Almost out of instinct, the two girls woke, and like their mother, took in the environs of the town with a quiet interest. The High Street looked practically empty, apart from a couple of vans making deliveries, as Sally turned into the car park and drove to the rear of the Black Lion Public House and Hotel.
"So what's the plan, Mum?" Called out Penny in elated mood, as she reached into the back of the car for her overnight bag.
Sally exhaled deeply and switched off the engine.
"Well, poppet, I think we'll have a cup of tea, a short nap, followed by a shower, then, if we have time, we can have a quick look around town, and finally dinner. How about that?"
"Sounds good to me." Said Laura, stifling a yawn.
After checking in, the three women went upstairs to inspect their rooms. Sally had decided on a single room, while Laura and Penny seemed happy to share.
