21. THE HOSPITAL PATIENT

Two unconscious men...

“But will he live, Doctor?” asked Annie Hampton, gazing through tearful eyes at her husband William as he lay on a hospital bed with pipes and tubes seeming to go everywhere, both on him and into him.

“He did lose a lot of blood,” murmured the doctor, “but there’s every chance he’ll make a full recovery, thanks to the prompt action of the police officers who saw it happen.”

“He might have been an awkward cuss, and I never could understand why he is what he is, but I love him,” she sobbed.

“Well, we’ll make sure you get him back into your home where you can lavish all the love onto him that you believe he deserves,” murmured the doctor, “now if you’ll excuse me...”

He moved purposefully away to tend to other patients in other wards, and she gazed at her husband as though seeing him for the first time in years. So he was, what had she called him? An awkward cuss, but yes, of course she loved him even though he was a difficult soul to understand. Maybe many another wife would have given up years ago, but we only have one shot at life and she wasn’t going to give up on him while he still lived and breathed.

William was in a small ward with three other beds in it, all occupied by men who seemed to want to do little more than snore even though it was daylight outside and the warmth of the sun was warming the room to an uncomfortable temperature.

“You silly, silly man,” she whispered, “why couldn’t you explain that you didn’t do it? That policeman would have understood. I’m sure he would. You just had to say you were with me when David was murdered and everything would have been all right. And you were, you know. I’d just got back home, from visiting … the victim, out there on the beach, and he was well and alive and fully clothed when I left him. And it took me less than half an hour to get home, or there abouts, and when I did get home you were there, ready to have a moan at me. I remember it so well. I know you didn’t like me doing what I do, but a woman has needs and if you won’t satisfy them then somebody else might have to, and David was always very willing.”

William stirred slightly. A hand moved barely an inch, an eye opened and then closed, he spluttered feebly.

“What is it?” she asked, still tearful.

“I … love … you...” he breathed, and might have struggled to say more but the ward door opened and Sergeant Gingleton strode in, past a bed from which regular snores were emitted and to where William lay.

“You and the Inspector,” said Annie, staring at him with eyes fogged by weeping, “you and the Inspector are blind and batty and stupid.”

He obviously had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

“You haul him off to Southwesthampton police station for no better reason than he isn’t exactly the same as you in the way he behaves, with no evidence connecting him to something that happened when he was a mile away with me, and you leave him open to the sort of abuse that has put him in hospital in this state.”

“Has he, er, might he have…?” asked the Sergeant.

“Is he alive still? Is that what you want to know? Or has he said anything? Maybe to curse you and that bigoted clot of an Inspector you worship? But no. He hasn’t spoken and I’d give just about anything to hear his voice...”

“I thought, when I came in…?”

“You thought? Really? Have you learned a new trick, then?” she snapped, sarcastic, almost cruel, from the prettiest lips he’d seen in a while, much prettier than those of Mrs Gingleton, bless her hairy wart that could have been put right, but hadn’t been because she didn’t put much value on facial perfection. But then, he thought cruelly, she wouldn’t with a face like hers…

“If he wakes up...” he spluttered, ashamed of the way his mind worked when he looked that this weeping woman. He’d seen her at Happy Valley, he was sure it had been she he had spotted naked near the tennis courts when he had popped along to check the layout of the place, but she looked even more beautiful dressed as she was for summer, at her rotten husband’s bedside.

He had a fetish for women in summer dresses.

“You mean, when he wakes up!” she snapped, “because he’s going to wake up. You can take that as read!”

“All right.” Beaten, the Sergeant walked back out of the ward and as he went William stirred again.

“I … love … you,” he croaked, leaving a huge amount of time between each word so that the truth within them was as plain as day.

“And I love you,” she whispered back, crying again.

oo0oo

Angela was making her solitary way back to the caravan to get changed into something even cooler than the shorts she was wearing when she bumped into Denny and Tony who seemed to be at a loose end. Tee shirts and jeans made them look uncomfortable hot as the sun beat down from a pale blue sky.

“Hi there, lads,” she called.

They turned and smiled and waited for her. It was early afternoon and she guessed their wives had gone off to town for yet another bingo session

“My friend Trayda’s gone off with her friendly policeman, so if you like you can come with me to our caravan while I change into something more comfortable,” said Angela in the sort of suggestive voice she’d been famed for years ago when, as a schoolgirl, she’d broken the hearts of several shallow youths on the way home from school or at the youth club.

“I’d better not,” said Denny, “the missus may well be back soon and, well, she don’t like me to spend too much time with attractive young ladies when she’s not around.”

“I’ve a can or two in the fridge,” she added, tempting his mate Tony, “and I won’t be long. Then we can go for an ice cream and an hour on the beach before Bingo’s over and done.”

“It’ll be all right, Denny,” urged Tony, “they’ll be an age yet, and we won’t be doing anything wrong.”

“You’ve forgotten that the ice cream man’s dead,” pointed out a reluctant Denny, “but okay, if that’s all that’s on the agenda.”

“What can you mean?” smiled Angela, “you can put whatever you like on the agenda! I’m footloose and fancy free, don’t forget.”

“That’s what worried me,” said Denny shyly, “you do know you’re an attractive woman, I suppose?”

“I do my best,” she grinned.

“And we’re only male mortals. Still, if there are two of us and it’s just while you get changed…?”

“That’s all! The sun’s so hot I’m sweating, and I thought I’d feel more comfortable in a bikini. You lads can put on shorts if you like. I don’t know how you cope in sweaty jeans this weather.”

They were half way back to where the caravan was parked when they heard a familiar voice behind them, croaked and cracked, and had they been closer they would have detected that it was flavoured with brandy fumes.

“You know about the sinsh of the flesh,” it called, “reshist before it ish too late, my lads!”

It was the Reverend Candice and, much to their horror, he was barely capable of steering his scooter in a straight line. He must have gone elsewhere after leaving the Shell and Cockle, and had imbibed a great deal more spirit than the small measure he’d had at the bar.

“We’re off to the beach when we’ve changed, sir,” said Denny politely.

“Then keep your eyesh open ladsh,” the elderly cleric jeered, “for they shay the innocents get clobbered by rocksh at the dead of night. Yesh, thatsh what they say...”

And with that he seemed to fall forwards, over the handlebars of his scooter, and without a by your leave or for any reason other than drunkenness, pass into what looked like the deepest of sleeps.

“What’s he messing at?” asked Tony.

“The silly fool’s drunk,” said Angela, “and at his age he should know better at this time of the day.”

“To my eyes he’s as good as dead,” muttered Denny, and he raced to the tragic scene of an old man collapsed across a mobility aid.

“He’s out of it!” he called to them, his face suddenly white as though he was in the presence of a ghost, and as they stared the Reverend Arthur Candice slid in glorious slow motion off his machine and lay in a crumpled heap on the grass while Denny phoned for an ambulance.

© Peter Rogerson 08.04.19