Page 82 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“He feeds himself.”

“Not anymore.”

Stuart sat for a few minutes surveying the four walls that had become the extent of William’s life. Guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind. Then he carefully locked the house and replaced the key in the small safe next to the front door.

Jayne pulled a face when Stuart told her that they couldn’t spend the whole day together. “It’s not as if he’s family.”

“I’m sorry but I’ve grown fond of him. Seeing a familiar face might do him good. Think how you’d feel if it was Lillian.” He’d only be gone an hour or two. Jayne and Lillian would survive but William might not.

“It’s not the same thing at all. I wanted to have Boxing Day with my fiancé instead of another day with my mother who’s expecting her dead cousins to turn up for mince pies and mulled wine at any moment.Ineed support too.”

* * *

Andrea didn’t say much when he arrived, just introduced herself, shook his hand and went off in search of the canteen. William was propped up on pillows with his eyes closed. There was a drip of clear liquid connected to his arm.

“William, it’s Stuart. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” The old man’s voice was like tissue paper and he didn’t open his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“I can see light at the end of the tunnel. It’s not too far away.”

There was a lump in Stuart’s throat. He touched the hand lying on top of the bedclothes. It was cool and still.

“Before I say goodbye . . .”

Stuart had to lean closer to hear him properly.

“One last piece of advice.”

There was a long silence but Stuart didn’t dare fill it with reassuring platitudes in case he talked over William’s faded words.

“Don’t choose the comfortable life.”

Stuart closed his eyes, trying to infer exactly what the old man meant and not liking his conclusion.

“Comfortable turns into a rut.” William was speaking slowly, as though he was choosing each word for economy and effectiveness. “You deserve better.”

“I’ve got some soup for William.” A young girl in pink scrubs pushed a trolley alongside Stuart. “Would you like to help him eat or shall I?”

“I . . .” Stuart found there were tears in his eyes. He blew his nose. “I’d like to do it.”

The girl adjusted the bed to make William more upright. “Your son’s going to feed you, William. Can you open your eyes?”

“I’m not his—”

“William? Can you hear me?” There was a hint of panic in her voice and she pressed the buzzer on the bed next to William’s hand. Then she turned to Stuart with an apologetic look. “If you’re not family I think you’d better leave. You can call later for an update.”

* * *

It was a long afternoon with Jayne and Lillian. He tried to be bright and enjoy the games of rummy and snap when Lillian’s concentration waned, but his mind was with the old man. He ate Quality Street under sufferance of being branded anti-social but refused more Baileys in case he needed to drive to the hospital again.

His phone vibrated and Andrea’s name came up on the display as he was laying out a buffet tea of cold turkey, pickles and bread rolls.

“I thought I better let you know. Dad passed away thirty minutes ago. He never regained consciousness.”

Stuart gripped the back of the nearest kitchen chair and then sat down on it.

---