“Yes,” said Betsy, “I want to see him and I’m terrified. I feel so shaky.” Edgar reached over the little and took hold of Betsy’s hand. They just looked at each other, there was nothing else to say. They dawdled over their coffee, then Edgar said, “Goodness knows how long we’ll be here and when we’ll be able to get a meal. They’ve got sandwiches here, I’d better get some and some more coffee.”
“Thank you.” Betsy actually smiled at him. “I suppose we’d better eat something even though I don’t really feel like it.”
So they nibbled their way through surprisingly nice sandwiches and went back to the waiting room and sat glumly. They ignored the pile of tatty magazines. The blaring telly was hard to shut out. After half an hour of this torture a nurse came and after making sure she had the right people said, “follow me.” Betsy stumbled slightly and Edgar took her arm. She was so glad to have him there.
They were shown into a small room and there in the white bed lay Harry. Unmistakably Harry despite the tubes and oxygen mask and bandages. Betsy burst into tears. “Oh Harry, what’s happened to you?” Harry’s eyes remained closed.
“He’s still sedated” the nurse told them, “but I gather it is your brother, Mr Smalley?”
“Yes,” replied Edgar and Betsy together, “It is.”
“I will inform the police. Wait here.”
Quite soon a constable appeared and it was confirmed the patient was indeed Harry Smalley.
“Can we stay in here ‘til he wakes up?” asked Edgar.
“I want to speak to the doctor,” said Betsy. She’d managed to control her tears but still looked grey and shaken. Edgar looked as though he’d aged ten years. Fortunately there were two chairs in the room.
When the doctor came in Edgar asked immediately, “Is he going to make it? He will be alright won’t he?”
“Quite possibly.” The white coated, tired looking fellow replied. “I can’t make promises. He’s very seriously injured. Along with the broken bones there are quite severe internal injuries. He was crushed between the car and the telephone box.”
“And the car didn’t stop.” Interjected Betsy, “How could they?”
“You must talk to the police about that, I think there’s a constable out in the corridor waiting for you. My advice is go home and get some rest. We’ll contact you if there are any changes or developments.”
“Yes, I’ve left my neighbour’s name and phone number at the desk. Thank you.” and Betsy fumbled for her handkerchief again as the doctor left the room.
“Let’s get the police interview over,” Edgar suggested, and after going over to Harry and patting his arm and whispering comforts to him, they left.The policeman drove them to the police station where they managed to hold themselves together and ask and answer questions. The car had been traced and the driver apprehended a few miles away. Not that this brought comfort, just a sense of justice.
They were driven back to Betsy’s house and there they sat, looking at each other, neither knowing what to do or say. Then Betsy decided she’d better go next door and tell them they could get a call at any hour and to please bang on her door no matter what the time.
After that they said Goodnight to each other and promised to rise early and get to the hospital as soon as possible.
Next morning after a meagre breakfast Edgar tottered carefully round the corner to the nearest taxi rank and brought the cab back to pick Betsy up and go to visit Harry. Betsy took what little greenery she could find in the back garden and a small vase, “In case they haven’t got one small enough,” she explained.
Harry looked much the same except he opened his eyes when he heard someone enter the room. Betsy bent over and kissed his cheek, what she could find of it and Edgar awkwardly patted Harry’s hand.
Harry tried to say something. Muffled sounds came from behind the oxygen mask. He made a tiny, feeble movement with one hand and looked pleadingly at Edgar. “He wants you to take that thing off his face so he can talk,” said Betsy.
“Ooh, I don’t think we’re supposed to do that. – But maybe for just a couple of seconds.”
With his mouth free Harry mumbled indistinctly but they both understood him. “Look after her.” he said to Edgar.
“Yes I will”. and Edgar put the oxygen mask back in place.”I’ll look after you too, when you get home.” Harry sort of smiled and tried to move his head from side to side.
A nurse came and asked them to leave for a while as she pulled curtains around Harry’s bed. They went back to the waiting area, both pleased and hopeful because Harry had acknowledged them.
The ice melted and made travel easier if messier. Two or three of the neighbours had got to hear of Harry’s accident and as well as being sympathetic offered practical help in the shape of a casserole, a home-baked loaf and a lift to the hospital on several days.
The patient remained much the same, neither better nor worse as far as the visitors could see. Edgar had taken Harry’s notebook and pen to him in case of inspiration but they had remained untouched in the drawer of the bedside cupboard.
Edgar was gentle and caring and Betsy appreciated his company. They spent a lot of time talking and got to know each other really well.
About two in the morning when Harry had been hospitalized for ten days there came the sharp knocking on the front door that Betsy had dreaded. She got up at once and went down to open to her neighbour who told her that the hospital had rung and thought Mr. Smalley’s sister should be informed of a decline in his condition. Poor woman repeated the stiff wording as she didn’t know what to say and hated bringing such news in the middle of the night.
“Thank you for telling me,” whispered Betsy, “and would you ring for a taxi for twenty minutes from now? I’ll go and wake Edgar.”
“No trouble” the neighbour said. “Would you like a hot drink?”
“No thanks, I’ll get back and get dressed and rouse Edgar to do the same, and thank you for your kindness to us,”
“You’re very welcome,” came the response, a trifle gruffly.
Edgar held Betsy’s hand in the taxi, they were both fearful. The hospital was much quieter at that hour, almost eerily so, that is, until they entered Edgar’s room where it was all go and bright lights.
“What’s happening?” Asked Betsy of the nearest green-clad figure. “We’re considering another operation. The opinions are divided. He’s very weak. The consultant thinks too weak to withstand the trauma, so probably we won’t take him to theatre.”
“What are his chances if you don’t?”
“Very slim I’m afraid. We’re trying a new medication via the drip. You can talk to him but I doubt you’ll get any response.”
The staff seemed suddenly to have finished whatever it was they were doing and left, telling Betsy and Edgar to stay as long as they liked.
“It’s their way of telling us to say ‘Goodbye’ to him,” said Betsy quietly. She held Harry’s hand without feeling any response. “Oh Harry,” she said, “I don’t want you to go – and I don’t want you lying here suffering, so if you want to go, it’s alright by me.” And she kissed his cold, wrinkled brow.
“Goodbye old chum,” choked Edgar, “I don’t know what I’ll do without you. It’s ridiculous of you to leave me in the lurch but if that’s what’s going to happen, I can’t stop it.” And so they stayed, looking not at each, other but at the frail figure in the bed, pale and unknowing.
How much later they had no idea but Betsy suddenly said, “He’s gone! Ring the bell Edgar!” He did so and a nurse came immediately. “I think he’s gone,” quavered Betsy.
“Yes,” answered the nurse as she did all the things they do to be sure of demise. Then she pulled the sheet over Harry’s face.
