My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  ‘Tell her I said hi.’

  ‘Hi Rosie,’ Alan said. ‘Harry says hi…’

  He put his hand over the phone. ‘She says hi.’

  ‘What’s up?’ He asked her. Listened for a moment, said, ‘OK,’ paused, nodded, added another ‘OK,’ before adding, ‘not for a couple of days.’

  Harry watched as Alan pursed his lips, nodded and then said, ‘OK, we’ll see you later.’

  ‘Everything OK?’

  Alan put his phone back on the table. ‘That was Rosie.’

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘At least we know why Sarah hasn’t been answering her phone.’

  ‘Why’s that?

  ‘She’s in hospital…Rosie’s hospital.’

  *

  Alan and Harry stood in the middle of the reception of St Reaper’s hospital staring at the large free standing plan of the hospital site.

  ‘What ward is she in?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Shipman Ward according to Rosie.’

  Both men intensely studied the plan. Harry started tracing his finger away from the large cross which said YOU ARE HERE.

  ‘I had no idea how big this place is,’ Alan said. ‘I think I’ll ask someone.’

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Alan and Harry turned and found themselves face to face with a large lady in her fifties wearing a purple sash which identified her as a friend of St Reapers, and a badge which told everyone that she was here to help.

  ‘As you can see from the map it’s a big site, so I might be able to help you.’ She smiled at Harry.

  ‘Our friend is in Shipman Ward,’ Harry explained. ‘We were looking for it.’

  ‘You won’t find it there,’ she told them.

  ‘Why not?’ Alan asked. ‘Have we come to the wrong place?’

  ‘You’re in the right place, but Shipman Ward is part of the new block so you have to come round here to find it.’ The friend of St Reapers led them round the back of the plan where a further map had been hand drawn onto a sheet of A3 paper and stuck to the wall.

  ‘There it is,’ she pointed at the corner of the sheet of paper and a rectangle which had a list of wards written on it. ‘There you go, Shipman Ward.’

  ‘Why is it round here?’ Harry asked.

  ‘After the expense of building the new block there was no money to make a new map so they stuck it on the wall instead.’ She smiled at Harry again. ‘Anyway, you can always ask me if you’re not sure.’

  ‘So where is it?’ Alan asked, having given up trying to work out the location from the hand drawn map.

  The friend of St Reapers sighed. ‘Through the main doors to the left, along the corridor, up the stairs at the end, over the bridge, through the double doors, first right, right again and then down the stairs and Shipman Ward is at the bottom…Can’t miss it.’

  Alan and Harry exchanged blank looks, both hoping that the other had understood the directions.

  ‘Off you go then,’ she shooed them away with a flick of the wrist. ‘You’d better get a move on.’

  ‘What’s the rush?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Shipman Ward is part of the Very Unwell Unit. If you’re visiting someone on that ward, I wouldn’t hang around talking to me, I‘d be up there making the most of the time left.’

  Alan and Harry looked at each other again.

  ‘I’d also suggest that if you plan on taking your friend any grapes, you limit it to a snack pack. Any bigger packs might be a waste.’

  Alan and Harry exchanged another look, thanked the lady for her help and headed off to the right.

  *

  Ten minutes and several wrong turns later, Alan and Harry arrived at Shipman Ward.

  ‘We’re looking for Sarah Gayle,’ Alan interrupted the tired looking nurse holding a conversation on the telephone.

  She pointed to a set of double doors to the left and mouthed. ‘Down there,’ while continuing her telephone call.

  Alan nodded his thanks and followed Harry through the doors.

  The ward consisted of six beds, three on each side. One of them had curtains pulled round it and four were unoccupied. Alan followed Harry down to the far end of the ward where the only occupied bed appeared to be.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Harry said as they walked past the curtained bed and got a full view of the patient in the bed.

  Alan swallowed. ‘What the hell happened?’

  Both men stared at the figure in the bed. Head completely wrapped in white crepe bandages, both arms similarly wrapped. A breathing tube emerging from a break in the bandages where presumably her mouth would be.

  Harry gripped Alan’s arm and said again, ‘Oh my God.’

  *

  Alan and Harry sat either side of the bed and stared at Sarah.

  ‘What do you think happened?’ Harry asked.

  Alan shrugged. ‘No Idea. The last time I saw someone like this they were breaking out of a tomb and murdering Egyptologists.’

  Harry frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s really appropriate Alan.’

  Alan nodded. ‘Sorry, just trying to keep the mood light.’

  Harry nodded in response. ‘No, I’m sorry Alan, I appreciate you’re only trying to help.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘They say you should talk to coma patients,’ Harry told him.

  Alan stood up and leaned closer to the heavily bandaged body. ‘Is she in a coma?’

  ‘I assume so. She’s been very still since we got here.’

  ‘She might be asleep?’

  Harry leaned over and whispered into her ear. ‘Sarah, are you OK? It’s me Harry. Alan’s here too.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Alan said. ‘Not a flicker.’

  Harry gently took hold of Sarah’s hand. ‘Come on Sarah.’

  ‘She’s completely unresponsive,’ Alan said, watching the bandages for any kind of movement. ‘Like the audience at a Giles Monroe show.’

  ‘Maybe we should sing to her?’ Harry suggested, still cradling Sarah’s bandaged hand.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Apparently singing to coma patients can help them.’

  Alan pulled a face. ‘Not with my voice it won’t.’

  ‘Maybe not, but it’s what all the experts say.’

  Alan looked at the prone figure on the bed. ‘We’ve got nothing to lose, I suppose. You never know, we might get her up and dancing a jig in ten minutes.’

  ‘I don’t think it works like that,’ Harry explained. ‘I think it’s more of a mental stimulation.’

  Alan shrugged and took hold of Sarah’s other hand. ‘Sarah…’ he said slowly and loudly. ‘We’re…going …to…sing…to…you…’ He looked at Harry. ‘What are we singing?’

  ‘I don’t know, something that she might associate with us.’

  ‘How about that song you do sometimes with Old Man Ernie?’

  ‘You think so?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Let’s give it a go.’

  ‘OK,’ Harry bent down and lifted a carrier bag onto his lap.

  ‘What’s that?’ Alan asked.

  Harry lifted out Old Man Ernie. ‘I feel more comfortable singing this with him, after all it’s his song.’

  Alan shook his head. ‘What’s he doing here, with you, now?’

  Harry settled the dummy on his lap. ‘I was taking him to a shop to get some new clothes after I had seen Sarah, but it’s all gone a bit beyond that now.’

  Alan decided it was better not to quiz him any further on the subject of Old Man Ernie’s clothes. Instead he asked, ‘Do you want to start? We’ll do a line each.’

  ‘OK,’ Harry coughed and began. ‘Some things in life are bad. They can really make you mad.’

  Alan continued. ‘Other things just make you swear and curse.’ He watched in disbelief as Old Man Ernie continued with the next line and he prayed that Sarah would wake up and end this nightmare.

  ‘OK Alan, altogether,’ Harry hissed once he had finished Old Man Ernie’s line.

  ‘And…A
lways look on the bright side of life.’

  As they both sang along and badly improvised the unknown lines, Alan gently moved Sarah’s hand as if trying to get her to dance.

  ‘Always look on the bright side of life…Always look on the right side of li…’

  ‘Alan!’

  Alan snapped round, dropping Sarah’s hand while Harry jumped, dropping Old Man Ernie to the floor. Rosie stood behind them, arms crossed in front of her, a look on her face that would bring vultures out of the sky.

  ‘Hi Rosie,’ Alan mumbled while Harry gave a little wave.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?

  ‘Well I would have thought was quite obvious,’ Alan said indignantly. ‘Especially to a medical professional.’

  ‘We’re singing,’ Harry added helpfully.

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Rosie said. ‘But why are you making that dreadful noise?’ In a hospital?’ She added.

  ‘Right,’ Alan said. ‘Firstly I should stress that this was Harry’s idea and I had no idea he’d brought Old Man Ernie with him. Secondly, if it takes us singing to bring our friend out of a coma then that is what we will do…’ He stood up walked round the bed, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘If it means that me and this dear old octogenarian look a bit silly singing an old song in a hospital ward then we can live with that because…’ He reached out and took hold of Sarah’s hand. ‘No sacrifice is too great to bring our dear friend back from the brink of death.’

  Rosie looked him up and down. ‘Finished?’

  Alan pursed his lips. ‘Did I mention it was Harry’s idea?’

  ‘What do you mean Octogenarian?’ Harry wined. ‘I’m only sixty six.’

  Rosie took a step forward and Alan involuntary took a step back. ‘It’s a very commendable approach boys, well done,’ she said. ‘There’s just one small problem.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Alan asked.

  Rosie nodded at the bandaged body in the bed. ‘That’s not Sarah.’

  Alan and Harry looked from each other to the person in the bed.

  ‘Not Sarah?’ Alan said.

  ‘No,’ Rosie stepped closer to the bed. ‘Who is this, anyway?’

  Alan shrugged and looked at Harry. ‘You said it was Sarah.’

  ‘No I didn’t. I assumed it was her because there’s no one else in here and you didn’t say it wasn’t.’

  Alan chewed his lip. ‘If that’s not Sarah, then where is she?’

  ‘At last,’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘You finally ask the sensible question.’

  ‘She is here isn’t she?’ Harry asked. ‘Only the nurse said she was.’

  ‘She’s in here,’ Rosie pulled back the curtains that surrounded one of the beds.

  Alan and Harry shuffled up to the bed.

  ‘That’s definitely Sarah,’ Alan pointed out and glared at Harry. ‘What happened to her?’

  Sarah lay prone in bed, her left arm was in a cast and she had a swath of bandages around her head. Several leads were attached to her fingers, chest and head and fed into a monitor by the side of the bed.

  ‘She looks a lot better than the person in the other bed,’ Harry said.

  ‘Are you basing that on the fact that she has less bandages?’ Rosie asked.

  Harry nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Rosie sighed. ‘She has a severe concussion, a broken wrist, bruising and a cut to her head.’

  ‘Is she in a coma?’ Alan asked, leaning in closer.

  ‘No, but the doctors decided to sedate her.’

  ‘Should we sing to her?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary,’ Rosie said. ‘She’s suffered enough.’

  Alan turned to Rosie. ‘Do you know what happened?’

  ‘I don’t, no. The ambulance crew brought her in last night and I saw her name on the X-ray list when I got in this morning.’

  ‘So no idea then?’

  ‘Not at the moment. I’m sure she’ll be able to fill in the blanks when she wakes up.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Anyway, I’ve got be getting back now, I’ll leave you two with her.’

  Alan and Harry watched as Rosie left the ward and then slowly took seats either side of the bed.

  ‘What’s considered a respectable amount of time at someone’s sick bed?’ Alan asked after five silent minutes.

  ‘Are we including the time spent with the wrong patient?’

  Alan nodded. ‘Absolutely. We were only at the next bed.’

  ‘In the circumstances I think we’ve done enough.’

  ‘We should probably get going then,’ Alan announced and stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you lunch in the hospital restaurant.’

  He took two steps away from the bed and stopped. He turned back and leaned over Sarah. ‘We’re-going-to-go-now,’ He said very loudly. ‘We’ll-come-back- tomorrow.’

  Harry wedged Old Man Ernie into his carrier bag. ‘Goodbye Sarah. See you tomorrow,’ he said, following Alan out of the ward.

  *

  After another series of wrong turns and endless corridors, the two friends eventually found themselves in the hospital restaurant. Alan stood in the doorway and looked over the tables. Spying Rosie in the corner with a colleague, he ushered Harry towards the food.

  ‘How is she?’ Rosie asked as Alan and Harry joined her at the table. She looked in dismay as Alan tipped a sachet of salt over his pie and chips.

  ‘No change,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of chips. ‘Still in a coma.’

  ‘She’s been sedated,’ Rosie corrected him and turned to Harry who was tucking into a shepherd’s pie. ‘How are you Harry? It’s not very nice to see a friend in such a state.’

  Harry put his knife and fork down. ‘It was quite a shock to see her like that, but I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet soon.’

  Rosie turned to her colleague and introduced Alan and Harry.

  ‘This is Liz,’ she explained. ‘Liz helps out with the hospital radio station.’

  ‘Sounds interesting,’ Alan said.

  Liz pulled a face. ‘It normally is, but it’s a bit stressful at the moment. The DJ for the 9-11 show tonight has called in sick, so I’m desperately looking for somebody to take his place.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Alan said, clearing his plate. ‘Harry too…’ Harry and Rosie both glared at him. ‘What do you have to do?’

  Liz studied him, unsure if he was serious or not. ‘It’s mainly dedications, playing records and chat, keeping the patients entertained. That sort of thing.’

  ‘We can do that, no problem. Harry and I are comedians. Entertaining people is what we do.’

  ‘Alan,’ Rosie warned. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea. There’s quite a knack to hospital radio.’

  ‘We’ve played gigs all over the place. We’ll be fine.’

  Liz looked at Rosie. ‘I’m sure he’ll be great. A comedian is just what the station needs.’ Turning to Alan she told him she was really grateful for his offer of help and arranged to meet him in the hospital reception at 8.30pm.

  ‘I can’t make tonight,’ Harry said once Liz had left the table. ‘I’m going to a poetry recital with Katherine.’

  Alan could feel Rosie bristle at the mention of Katherine. ‘Give it a miss, mate. This’ll be much more fun. Having said that, I’ve always thought that Old Man Ernie would make a great act for the radio.’

  ‘Sorry Alan, we’ve had tickets for this for weeks. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Katherine’

  ‘It’s alright Harry. I’ll ask James. He knows all about music. He’ll able to choose some great songs.’

  ‘Are you sure about this Alan?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Of course. Play a few records for the hospital patients, give them a few laughs. This is the hospital you work at, and it’s looking after our friend, it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Rosie muttered under her breath.

  Chapter 34

  Alan slipped into the passenger seat, fastening his seat belt as
James pulled away from Rosie’s house.

  ‘Got the music?’ Alan asked.

  James nodded and gestured behind him. ‘In the back. I made a great play list of uplifting songs. There’s something for everyone.’

  ‘Well done mate, I knew you’d know what to play.’

  James grinned. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Is Rosie going to be listening at work?’

  Alan shook his head. ‘No, she’s at home. Do you know what she said to me as I left?’

  James frowned whilst trying to avoid a swerving cyclist. ‘Silly twat!’

  ‘Not quite.’

  James laughed. ‘Sorry mate, not you, that twat on a bike.’

  Alan looked out of the window as the cyclist gestured angrily at the car. ‘You’ve made a friend there. Anyway, as I was leaving Rosie told me not to do anything stupid and embarrass her.’

  ‘What does she think you’re going to do?’ James pulled a face. ‘We’re playing music for hospital patients. It’s a righteous thing to do.’

  ‘I know,’ Alan nodded. ‘I sometimes think she doesn’t know me at all.’

  *

  Alan and James met Liz from Hospital Radio in the main reception. She thanked them several times for getting her out of a fix and showed them to an office on the top floor.

  ‘Everything you’ll need is here,’ she said with breathless enthusiasm. ‘It’s a fairly simple set up. CD players and mixing desk here,’ she patted a desk on which sat two CD players and a unit consisting of little more than switches, buttons and dials.

  ‘Which is the on button?’ Alan asked.

  ‘This one here,’ Liz leaned across the desk. ‘It’s marked ON.’

  Alan looked at James and they both nodded. ‘OK, good.’

  She handed Alan a stack of index cards. ‘These are the dedications. They’ve been coming in all day, so if you can read a few out between songs that’d be great.’

  Alan passed the cards to James without looking at them.

  ‘I’ll leave you boys to get on with it then. And thank you again.’

  ‘No problem. We’re just glad to help,’ Alan said, ushering her out of the door. ‘Bye then.’

  The door clicked shut behind her and he turned around. James was already sitting on one of the two chairs at the desk stacking CDs into a neat pile. Alan sat next to him and started fiddling with the microphone.