Chapter Twelve: ‘The Last Day of Alan’s Life’
The very next morning when I woke up there was a hustle of activity around Alan’s bedside by the medics. A nurse or doctor was in attendance most of the morning monitoring him. We didn’t talk again.
Alan died just before 1.00 pm. Half an hour before his passing, Margaret arrived on the ward. The curtains were drawn around his bed and as he could barely speak above a whisper, nothing which was said between them could be heard by me apart from Margaret’s gasp and protest of, ‘No, Alan. Why did you do that? I never wanted that doing!”
Alan died just before 1.00 pm. Half an hour before his passing, Margaret arrived on the ward. The curtains were drawn around his bed and as he could barely speak above a whisper, nothing which was said between them could be heard by me apart from Margaret’s gasp and protest of, ‘No, Alan. Why did you do that? I never wanted that doing!”
I later learned that the ward nurse had phoned Alan’s wife, Amanda, to inform her that her husband was expected to die within the hour, but the phone in Alan’s house went unanswered and went to the automatic response message. Close to the unanswered phone, an inebriated Amanda with the remains of a bottle of wine lay slumped across the bed crying pitifully.
After Alan had died, Margaret ran from his bedside in tears and by the time that Alan’s wife had retrieved the hospital phone message and visited the hospital at 3.00 pm, her husband’s body had been taken to the morgue and was cold to the touch.
~~~~~
It was a further six weeks before I was strong enough to leave the hospital. After Alan’s death, Margaret, never returned to the hospital again……why should she?
It was only then that I started to realise how much I’d come to depend upon our nightly chats and her company. I started to feel pangs of emptiness, expressing a sudden loss for another man’s mistress. Without realising it, over the briefest of periods, I too had become addicted to her daily presence.
The consultant who was looking after me told me that I’d got over the worst of my recent attack and that my body was now strong enough to be given an eight-session course of chemotherapy over the next six months. He indicated that after my chemo, I might hopefully enjoy some respite before the worse effects of my illness eventually returned, as it undoubtedly would.
I initially returned to my cottage in Haworth and resumed my life. I tried to go for a walk daily and to get out of the house at every opportunity, but my body was weak and my recovery very slow. Each night as I went to bed, I would spend many an hour awake thinking about Margaret. In my dreams, we would always be romantically attached. I wanted to take the place of a dead man and occupy the love which Alan had received from Margaret.
It was only then that I started to realise how much I’d come to depend upon our nightly chats and her company. I started to feel pangs of emptiness, expressing a sudden loss for another man’s mistress. Without realising it, over the briefest of periods, I too had become addicted to her daily presence.
The consultant who was looking after me told me that I’d got over the worst of my recent attack and that my body was now strong enough to be given an eight-session course of chemotherapy over the next six months. He indicated that after my chemo, I might hopefully enjoy some respite before the worse effects of my illness eventually returned, as it undoubtedly would.
I initially returned to my cottage in Haworth and resumed my life. I tried to go for a walk daily and to get out of the house at every opportunity, but my body was weak and my recovery very slow. Each night as I went to bed, I would spend many an hour awake thinking about Margaret. In my dreams, we would always be romantically attached. I wanted to take the place of a dead man and occupy the love which Alan had received from Margaret.
Sometimes the only way that I’d be able to get off to sleep would be to sexually relieve myself by imagining me and Margaret doing the things that she and Alan often did during moments of passion when they were safely alone and in need of close, physical contact.
~~~~~
Following a brief relapse that required me being a hospital inpatient again for another month, it was around fourteen months following Alan’s death before I was fit enough to seek out Margaret at her place of work. I had tried to forget her and keep away, but however hard I tried, I couldn’t.
On the morning that I decided to look her up, I arrived at a building that had ‘Hawthorn’s Haulage’ signposted above its entrance. The building was no longer operational and a huge sign outside its gates indicated the premises to be ‘For Sale’. The place looked sad in its mothballed state.
I instantly found my thoughts going to Margaret and her son, Timothy. Where were they now and how were they coping? More importantly, since last seeing me at the hospital, did she once think of me? Did she once wonder where I was or how I was doing? She cannot have, otherwise she would have visited me! Did she even care whether I was dead or alive? I dare not hope of there being the slightest chance that she’d once imagined me in any romantic way!
On the morning that I decided to look her up, I arrived at a building that had ‘Hawthorn’s Haulage’ signposted above its entrance. The building was no longer operational and a huge sign outside its gates indicated the premises to be ‘For Sale’. The place looked sad in its mothballed state.
I instantly found my thoughts going to Margaret and her son, Timothy. Where were they now and how were they coping? More importantly, since last seeing me at the hospital, did she once think of me? Did she once wonder where I was or how I was doing? She cannot have, otherwise she would have visited me! Did she even care whether I was dead or alive? I dare not hope of there being the slightest chance that she’d once imagined me in any romantic way!
There was a small building next to the haulage firm which seemed to be an upholstering business. I sought out the man inside. The worker was busy stuffing an old rocking chair backrest as I entered. After asking about ‘Hawthorns’, he told me that the firm had kept operating for about two months after the owner’s death, but then went into insolvency and had been put up for sale to liquidate some of the debts.
“Do you know… did you know the secretary; Alan’s Personal Assistant?” I asked.
“Aye, I knew Maggie,” he replied, adding, “Everybody knew Maggie. She was the most charming woman.”
“I was in the next bed to Alan in hospital two weeks before he died, and we got to know each other pretty well,” I said, by way of explanation. “I told Margaret that I’d look her up when I was next in the area. Do you know where she is working or living now?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” the upholsterer replied. He carried on with his work as we spoke. “There was some mention of her returning back home to Ireland I do believe, and her son finishing off his education over there!”
“Do you know… did you know the secretary; Alan’s Personal Assistant?” I asked.
“Aye, I knew Maggie,” he replied, adding, “Everybody knew Maggie. She was the most charming woman.”
“I was in the next bed to Alan in hospital two weeks before he died, and we got to know each other pretty well,” I said, by way of explanation. “I told Margaret that I’d look her up when I was next in the area. Do you know where she is working or living now?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” the upholsterer replied. He carried on with his work as we spoke. “There was some mention of her returning back home to Ireland I do believe, and her son finishing off his education over there!”
I thanked the man and left, returning home somewhat disappointed by not having seen Margaret again as I’d hoped earlier that day when I’d set out. I know it sounds somewhat fanciful and farfetched, but I’d spent several sexually frustrating nights since my hospital release imagining the two of us together as lovers; even as husband and wife!
Since my hospital discharge last year, and knowing that my illness would undoubtedly shorten my lifespan, I’d no desire to waste any remaining time that God granted me on this earth; hence my plan of hitching my wagon to that of Margaret’s, if she’d have me, remained my prime goal. Our journey together might be short, but at least the travelling of it would be pleasurable.
Since my hospital discharge last year, and knowing that my illness would undoubtedly shorten my lifespan, I’d no desire to waste any remaining time that God granted me on this earth; hence my plan of hitching my wagon to that of Margaret’s, if she’d have me, remained my prime goal. Our journey together might be short, but at least the travelling of it would be pleasurable.
Another six months transpired before I was well enough to resume my search of Margaret and her son. I planned to holiday in Waterford, Ireland for three weeks, and whilst there, I would naturally visit Margaret’s birthplace of Portlaw, where we might ‘accidently’ bump into each other somewhere up William Street or in ‘The Square’ she’d so often spoken of during our nightly chats by my bedside.
