by Pat Rosier
Lying in bed, Isobel, half-listening to Iris sitting up beside her talking to the hospital, thought about who she should ring in the morning. It wouldn’t do to think about Chris, not yet, not until they had some real information. Iris had finally managed to get through to the hospital ward and someone on the other end was doing most of the talking while Iris took notes. Isobel noticed she didn’t actually mind too much leaving Warwick in charge of her conference, even though she didn’t have a high opinion of his abilities. She was pleased to be certain about wanting to go with Iris. Then Iris put down the phone and Isobel turned her attention to her partner.
‘Tell me,’ she said. Iris pulled the blankets up to her chin, peering at the paper in her hand. ‘Broken rib, punctured lung, multiple fractures in his right arm, possible concussion, and they haven’t ruled out other internal injuries yet …’ she gulped down a sob. ‘And from what they didn’t say I gather he’s not conscious yet and they can’t figure out why.’ Isobel murmured reassurances while she pulled Iris to her, stroking her back and her head, feeling the two tightly clenched fists between them.
‘He’s young and strong …,’ she began, and faltered. ‘We’ll see him tomorrow,’ she added, wondering, if that would in fact be as reassuring as she hoped she had made it sound.
Iris turned on her side, her back to Isobel. ‘Hold me,’ she said, so softly Isobel barely heard. She turned and Iris snuggled into her with a familiar wriggle that ended in a perfect fit. Spooning, they called it. And Iris started talking. She talked about Chris as a baby and a boy, and a man, told story after story, many of which Isobel had heard before, some she had been part of; Isobel had known Chris since he was fourteen, gawky, shy and clever and watched him grow into a man she admired and loved.
~~~
Chapter 07
From the moment she appeared out of the crowd at Melbourne airport, Shirley literally took them under her wing. ‘Asking the right questions of the right people,’ was all the explanation she would offer, adding as an afterthought, ‘and it helps to have a husband who works for the airline.’ She nodded her approval at their overnight bags and lack of checked luggage, and said, ‘you’ll be wanting to get straight to the hospital,’ as she shepherded them out to the carpark in a light drizzle.
Isobel sat in the back of the big silver car, reminding herself that it was more than thirty years since she had been the younger, inept sister. She leaned forward, massaging Iris shoulder’s with the tips of her fingers, squeezing the hand that came up to grip hers, noticing Shirley’s sideways glance.
‘It’s good of you to meet us …,’ she began.
‘No problem. Grown-up kid in trouble in far parts, close to home that, with Michael in Europe – if you see what I mean! Let’s talk later, I need to concentrate on this mad-house.’ Isobel and Iris braced themselves as Shirley accelerated fast and braked often, as did other drivers, running yellow lights, or not, apparently according to some arcane code.
When they pulled into the drop-off parking in the front of St Vincent’s Hospital Shirley turned so she could speak to them both. She handed Isobel a large envelope. Inside were written instructions, timetables, phone numbers and a house key. ‘Please come and stay,’ she said. ‘There’s heaps of room, you can do your own thing, no social responsibilities and come and go as you like.’
‘Well, I have …,’ Isobel began to explain about the hotel off La Trobe St she had booked just before they left for their connecting flight to Auckland. Iris leant back and put a finger on Isobel’s mouth. ‘Can I get to the hospital from your place,’ she asked, ‘on public transport?.’
‘Easy as,’ said Shirley. ‘Bus, tram, taxi ….. And you can always call me.’ She gestured at the envelope. ‘And here,’ rummaging in her handbag, ‘take this.’ It was a cell phone. ‘Plenty of minutes on it. Ring me, ring anyone.' She turned to Iris. ‘I hope he’s as good as – well as good as he can be,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Iris. ‘You’re very kind.’ She looked at Isobel and said, a question in her voice, ‘and we’d love to stay.' Isobel nodded. Iris was already out of the car. ‘Thanks, Shirley. Our things …,’ she pointed to the two small bags on the back seat beside Isobel.
‘I’ll put them in your room. Talk to you later,’ and her sister was gone Isobel had to run to catch up with Iris who grabbed her hand as she came alongside and gripped it fiercely.
Chris was in a room on his own said the nurse, who introduced himself as James. Sleeping. ‘He was awake and conscious for a few minutes earlier.’ Both women’s shoulders dropped a fraction. ‘His fiancée has gone for a walk.' He didn’t notice their startled looks at each other. ‘It’s one visitor at a time, I’m afraid.’ He did notice their clasped hands. ‘You can wait here.’ Chairs were lined up against the corridor wall. Isobel sat. After one fearful glance at her, Iris walked firmly through the swing doors.
As the minutes passed, Isobel’s thoughts wandered from mother and son to her sister. She remembered only the self-focused, disinterested – in her at least – sibling. The person who met them at the airport, practical and helpful, concerned, warm even, was a stranger behaving like someone else’s sister might. How was she supposed to respond to that ……? She leapt up as James returned. ‘Please tell me, how is Chris?’ she asked him. ‘I am his mother’s partner,’ she added firmly.
‘The doctor will be able to tell you in the morning.’ He made as if to walk off, then turned back to her, ‘he’s badly injured, but he’s doing okay,’ raising a hand to acknowledge the thanks she directed at his departing back. A few minutes later she watched a young, slight, dark-haired woman in a smart bottle green dress and black boots come around a corner of the corridor and stop the nurse, then saw James gesturing towards herself. As the woman came close she stood up and walked to meet her. ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘I’m Isobel, Chris’s mother’s partner. You must be his fiancée.’
‘Eleni,’ said the young woman, ‘with an i.’ It sounded like one word, Eleniwithani. ‘Actually … can we sit down?’ She was flushing slightly but held Isobel’s gaze.
‘You see,’ Eleni said when they were seated side by side on the hard chairs, ‘Chris and I aren’t really engaged, it just made it easier to get to see him.’ Isobel was looking at the amethyst ring on her left hand. ‘It’s one I bought myself, in Bali, a couple of years ago.’ When she looked back at Isobel it was clear how tired she was. ‘It’s only been three months since we … I didn’t know how to contact Chris’s mother, and I thought his work would…’
‘They did. Were you ….?’ It dawned on Isobel that Eleni might have been in the accident.
‘No, he was driving down here to meet me, I’d got us a flat for his next job on a new project at Docklands and he had the details in his diary.’
‘Oh’. Iris was standing in the doorway. ‘Who are you?’ Isobel found herself introducing the two women.
‘Is he awake?’ There was pleading in the young woman’s eyes. Iris shook her head. ‘I’ll go and sit with him,’ and the door swung behind her.
Iris looked helplessly at her partner. ‘What …? He’s lying there, pale as de… white as a sheet, hooked up to tubes and machines… I looked at his chart but didn’t understand most of it … What do we do now?’
Isobel sat her down and repeated what Eleni had told her. ‘Why don’t I sit with Chris for a bit and you and she go and have a coffee and get to know each other a bit, talk about … all this.’
‘I can’t. She’s a stranger, Chris hasn’t even mentioned her. It’s none of her business!’ Isobel had never before heard Iris sounding petulant. She gathered up her partner’s hands, trying to rub away their coldness. ‘How about I do it then,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll find out where she fits into Chris’s life, what she expects to do ….’
‘I’m his mother!’ It was almost an accusation.
‘I’m not disputing that for a moment, my love, but Eleni is here and, well, we can’t ignore her.’
‘Why not?’ I
ris looked up and smiled, just. ‘I know, I’m being childish, I wasn’t prepared for — anyone else — I thought I would be ….’
‘The one who took care of Chris when he needed it, as always,’ Isobel finished for her. ‘I know. This Eleni is another shock. I’ll talk to her.’
‘Would you? I can’t think of anything except willing Chris to wake up and look at me … I want to go back in there …’
Isobel stood up. ‘Give me a second.’ She went to the door and beckoned to Eleni, who carefully replaced Chris’s hand on the bed and stood up. ‘Can we go and talk? Please?’
Iris and Eleni passed in the doorway without looking at each other.
Sitting opposite the younger woman in the cold cafeteria, with its dingy paint and old linoleum floor, watching her pour herbal tea from a steel teapot, Isobel started talking about herself and Iris and Chris living with them through his teenage years.
‘Please stop.’ Eleni was near tears. ‘It’s my fault he never told his mother about us.’
‘Yes?’ The coffee was bitter and lukewarm. Isobel pushed it away.
‘My parents don’t approve of Chris because he’s not Greek so he said, kind of joking — but he meant it — that he’d win them round before he told his mother – and you – about us. Neither of us thought …. And now his mother resents me, I can tell.’
‘There’s no denying she expected to be the chief — person, next of kin I guess. And she is I suppose. She’ll get used to you, you know, it won’t take her long, once Chris ….’
‘Wakes up and is all right?’ Eleni took a deep breath. ‘They won’t promise that he is,’ she said, ‘but he did wake up for a while. I wish I’d been there. They’d sent me off to get something to eat.’ She was crying quietly and her hands shook when she lifted her cup.
‘You must be exhausted.' She looked terribly young.
‘I’m fine. It’s no use trying to send me away.’ And she was telling Isobel how she and Chris had met when she was brought in to devise a computer programme to monitor a water-flow project Chris was working on; engineering software was her specialty. She didn’t usually date men she met at work, she said, she couldn’t be bothered with them trying to prove they were smarter than she was. Chris was different, he didn’t have to prove anything, and …, she stopped with a shrug then said, ‘I’m going back now.’
They made their way back without talking, Isobel hurrying when she saw Iris was sitting in the corridor.
‘They’re doing nurse things. Wouldn’t let me stay.’ She showed no interest in Eleni, who was hanging back, looking out a window.
‘She’s all right,’ said Isobel quietly, ‘she loves Chris.’
‘Why didn’t he tell…?’
‘Silly reason, doesn’t matter. Tell you later. Come on, talk to her.’
Iris looked at Isobel doubtfully, opened her mouth to speak then closed it again, hesitated and said, ‘Eleni …,’ holding out her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘too many shocks for one day.’
The next hour was a blur of nurses and doctors and trying to negotiate for two visitors at a time, with Eleni and Iris both adamant that they were not leaving the hospital. Shirley appeared at the same time as a friend of Eleni’s and after some toing and froing and exchanging of phone numbers, Eleni agreed to go with her friend and try for a few hours’ rest, on a promise that she would be rung if there was any change in Chris.
‘You think about family more as you get older.’ Shirley and Isobel were walking slowly up and down the corridor. They had each briefly looked in on Chris. Iris was back in the chair by his bed, talking quietly to him.
‘Do you?’
‘Uh huh. Just this week I’ve been thinking about getting in touch with you, and here we are! When Brian said you’d rung, I seized the moment. I’ve surprised you, haven’t I?’
‘Yes, yes, I guess you have. We haven’t exactly been close ….’
‘No. Do you have any idea why I stayed away?’
Isobel shrugged. ‘You weren’t interested, had a better life, I don’t know, you disapproved ….’
Shirley’s laugh had a bitter edge. ‘Disapproval I learnt from an expert,’ she said.
‘You mean our mother?’
‘Indeed I do. My first husband’s family liked me and I liked that so much I … but now’s not the time to go into old history. Like I said, getting older, kids leaving home, I’ve been thinking about you. And Daniel. How is he?’ Isobel said he’d been a bit depressed but seemed to be getting on top of it, then hoped that was true. She encouraged her sister to contact him, then urged her to go home, promising they’d get a taxi when Iris was ready to leave. Isobel didn’t know what to make of this newly sisterly sister. Was their mother why Shirley had moved away and stayed away? Really?
There were lights on in the house when the taxi pulled up. A note from Shirley directed them to their room, with ‘Welcome, sleep well, B.’ in different writing at the end.
‘That’s nice,’ Iris commented.
Isobel nodded. ‘Bed? Or food and drink first.' She lifted the cloth off a tray of cups, tea, coffee, milk and muffins.
‘Bed, just bed, please lead me to bed. If we were at home it would be two thirty in the morning or something.’
Isobel noted the well-appointed room, big bed, plush towels, bathroom next door. Standing side by side at the basin brushing their teeth, the two women looked at each other in the mirror.
‘Thank you.' Mumbled around her toothbrush, but clear enough.
‘You’re very welcome.’
In the morning, Isobel woke to kitchen sounds and was sliding carefully out of the bed when Iris touched her arm.
‘No phone calls in the night?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good, right?’
‘Right.’
Iris gave a big sigh and drew Isobel into a hug.
‘I want to go in soon.’
‘Of course. Shower, coffee, a muffin maybe, and we’re out of here.’
‘Did I ever tell you you’re wonderful?’
The house was large and modern with decks all around leading to a landscaped garden. Shirley was reading the paper at the kitchen table. Brian, she explained left early, he said ‘Hi’ to them and was looking forward to seeing them. Isobel realised she had no idea how her sister spent her days, or even whether she had a job.
That day Chris became fully conscious while a nurse, Jolene, was changing his dressings. The three women were waiting outside, Eleni staring out the corridor window, Iris pretending to read the paper, Isobel walking up and down, smiling at Eleni when she passed. A light went on over the door and they all froze and looked at each other. A second nurse appeared and went in to the room. A few seconds later she came out and announced that Chris seemed to be waking up and the doctor would have to see him before they could, please be patient. Iris snorted, but sat back down. Eleni turned to the window, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Isobel leaned on the wall beside Iris and squeezed her shoulder.
The doctor came and went in a rush. She wouldn’t stop to talk to them, just said, ‘He’s doing fine,’ and strode off, frowning at her pager. The nurse opened the door and beckoned them in. Eleni made it into the room first, kissing Chris and grasping his good hand, saying, ‘Oh Chris,’ and ignoring her tears.
‘Hi doll, good to see you.’ Chris’s eyes were wet too, fixed on Eleni’s face. Then he turned to Iris, standing by the other side of the bed, her hand on the blanket where it covered his thigh.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Hi kiddo. You gave me such a fright!’ Isobel stood at the end of the bed. The nurse was at the door. 'Five minutes,’ she said.
‘We’ve all met each other, no need for introductions.’ Isobel broke the awkward silence.
‘Hi, Isobel. Looks like I’ve got the whole team here.’
He doesn’t know what to do, Isobel thought. She moved to Iris’s side and took her hand. ‘Let’s us go and find that nurse and find out ….’
>
Iris was shaking her head and looking at Chris, who said, too brightly, ‘Good idea, Mum, then come and tell me.’
Iris yanked her hand free of Isobel’s and pushed past her to lead the way out the door. They found nurse Jolene, who patiently answered all the questions Iris could think of. She had passed most of it on before they were all dispatched from Chris’s room, ‘For two hours, minimum, this man has to rest,’
By mid-week Iris had at least accepted Eleni’s presence and was fractionally warmer towards her. Isobel traveled in and out of the hospital with her partner, waited, read, sat with Chris, took part in conversations with doctors. He was out of danger, should recover completely in time, but needed an operation on his shattered right arm. Hospital staff had given up enforcing the one visitor rule, which helped Iris and Eleni, Isobel thought, it meant they weren’t competing for time with him.
On their fourth day, Iris suggested that Isobel go home. For the first time she wondered how the conference was going. Iris said she would be fine staying with Shirley and Brian. They were very kind and understanding. She wasn’t ready to leave yet but there was no need for Isobel to stay; she could go home and see to the animals.
‘But I want to stay,’ Isobel began, then realised she didn’t, not really. She wanted to attend to the thoughts and feelings that Chris’s accident was bringing up for her, thoughts and feelings that she couldn’t tell to Iris, not just now. Stimulated, she supposed, by writing in the diary, bits of her past she had become adroit at leaving buried were disturbing her nights. Even as she thought, ‘That William Borscholdt has a lot to answer for!’ she knew it was she herself who had to find answers — or explanations, or something. And now Chris’s accident had shaken her confidence in everything and everyone being ‘all right’ until — well, until she got around to…. At this point she felt something close to guilt — or shame, even — at doing so little for so long.
