Ben found that the gym quiet on weekday afternoons, especially so on a Monday. There was just one other person in the upstairs room of cardio machines, a short woman with dark hair who he’d seen before. She jogged steadily, the whir of her machine louder than the gym’s background music. He chose a machine of his own, leaving an unoccupied space between them, then started building up to his own pace. He stared into space as he pounded along beside the woman, and perhaps she too was looking into the clear spring sky ahead of them. The blue rectangle and a few treetops were all that was visible through the narrow window, too high to let them see the old graveyard at the back of the gym.

Ben had not exercised for nearly a week, as he’d had a load of timber to process in his workshop. He noticed that his routine seemed a little harder than usual, but less than ten minutes in, he really ran into difficulties. His heavy breathing was becoming difficult, almost painful as he struggled to get enough air. This seemed to affect his technique as he misjudged the placement of his feet and stumbled. He quickly stopped the machine, stepping off it to lean against the wall by the window, but his breath wasn’t coming any easier. He was aware of his heart still hammering in his chest as he slid down the wall onto his haunches. Then he felt the room tipping and realised with distant surprise that he’d actually slid all the way down onto the floor.

He heard his companion’s running machine stop and saw her trainers briskly stepping towards him. From his ground-level point of view, it seemed as if a giant were approaching. She must have crouched down, as he could see she was balancing on the balls of her feet. She had asked if he was feeling okay he realised, and he tried to answer, to say that he wasn’t sure. Though he was still labouring for breath, he felt calmer now. Then he heard her mutter a curse and call out, “Some help here, please!” She cursed again when no one came, then she was grasping his limbs, trying to manoeuvre his limp body to stretch him out on his side. He was a bit alarmed when he unexpectedly felt her fingers in his mouth too, but whatever she was trying to do, it only took a moment.

Ben felt himself drifting into sleep now, but came to his senses when he realised the woman was trying to get his attention, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Hey! Stay with me. What’s your name?”

He answered with a wheeze, “Ben, Ben Osborne.”

“That’s good, Ben,” she said, then she seemed to speak to someone else, “It’s Ben Osborne. I’m not sure I’ll get much more from him right now. Thanks, that’s good to know. I’ve put him in the recovery position and checked his airways. That’s about the limit of my first aid. Yes, his lips are blue. I can stay with him until they arrive. Okay, I won’t hang up then.”

Then she seemed to be addressing him again in a slow clear voice, in quite a posh accent, Ben thought vaguely. “Okay, Ben. I’m Marcie. You sit tight. I’ve called an ambulance and they’re on their way. I’m going to stay with you. They want me to keep an eye on that breathing. You’re doing very well.” He realised that she was gripping his hand, and he felt comforted by that, but he did still feel very sleepy.

Suddenly there were other people bustling around in the room. Then there was the pressure of cool plastic on his face and a hiss of gas. Someone was reaching behind his head, strapping the plastic mask over his nose and mouth, but he was becoming more aware of a delicious lightheaded feeling, creeping up the back of his neck from his chest to his scalp. His breath was coming more easily again, and he felt a buoyant relief from the pain in his chest, which only a moment ago he’d somehow barely noticed. He deliberately drew a slow deep breath, gratefully savouring the sweetly easing comfort that it brought. A tingle of satisfaction shivered right through his body, sensuously arousing in its intensity. He was aware that someone was putting their hand in the pockets of his gym shorts. He considered protesting - they might be trying to take his locker key - but it didn’t seem to really matter.

A stout balding man in green was suddenly looming over his face. “Alright Ben, me and my mate are going to lift you onto the stretcher now. Then we’ll give you a ride into the RVI, okay?” He felt himself being raised up by strong hands under his armpits and thighs, then he was being tucked tightly into a pleasantly cosy blanket. He realised he’d lost her hand and felt confused. He’d been holding hands with the small woman who had been running with him. He remembered she had glasses and dark wavy hair tied back in a tight bun, and she was called Marcie.

He tried to say her name under the muffling mask, raising his hand hopefully even as the paramedic fussed around with thick fingers on Ben’s eyelids and neck. He felt her small hand touch his, and he gripped it gratefully.

“It’s alright, pet, you can ride with us,” he heard the man say above his head.

“But I…” she started, before being cut off.

“It’s no bother. You bring his bag. We’ll move him down to the van now. He’s looking a bit less peaky already, but we don’t want to hang about with something like this.”

Ben felt himself being lifted again, then had the confused impression of gliding under the gym’s lights, down the stairs, out into the cold air, then into a crowded little room that he realised was the back of an ambulance. It started swaying and he heard a siren. He hoped there hadn’t been an accident that would hold them up, then realised that it was their vehicle that was making the noise. He felt foolish at his mistake, and at the trouble he’d put people to.

He was still gripping someone’s hand. He rolled his head to see the small woman from the gym sitting anxiously beside him, squashed onto a tiny chair beside the older paramedic. “Hey,” she said, “You’re going to be all right, okay?” He tried to smile beneath the hissing gas. It was all he could manage, but he certainly felt all right.

Then they were briefly out in the cold air again, before Ben found himself floating under more ceiling lights. There was noise and activity all around. He was aware of people talking to each other over his prone body. But soon all this subsided as he came to rest in a calm space surrounded by pale blue curtains.

As the drama receded, he felt himself relax, lying back on the bed that they’d left him in, resting his head on the clean pillow. He still wore the mask, but he felt his breath was coming much more easily now, and he also felt he was becoming more alert, more aware of his surroundings. He suddenly realised that he was not alone, that the woman from the gym was still with him, and more than that, still holding his hand.

He looked at her. She seemed small and perhaps a little scared, still dressed in her tight gym kit, hunched forwards in the chair that she’d drawn close to his bedside, staring at his big rough hand as it enveloped hers. Somehow he’d literally pulled her into this crisis with him, even though she was a complete stranger. Yet somehow he also felt they had made a connection, that fate had thrown them together, and now they could never be strangers again.

He relaxed his grip, feeling their sticky hands come apart. “I’m sorry, Marcie, isn’t it?” His voice was muffled by the mask, but she could obviously hear him well enough, as she startled and looked straight at him with her brown eyes, blinking her long dark lashes under her heavy eyebrows. She asked if he was feeling better.

“Aye, thank you. Still a bit lightheaded, but I feel more with it now,” then he repeated, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I don’t even know what happened.”

“Hey, relax, okay? You fainted or something, and I was there to help,” she said, leaning back in her chair now, perhaps taking her own advice. “The gym found your details, eventually, but they didn’t have your next of kin noted. I’ve called in myself now. My boss was fine with me taking the rest of the afternoon off. I can stick around a bit longer if you like.”

“Thank you. I would like that. It really is kind of you.”

At that moment the curtain around Ben’s bed was pulled aside with a dramatic noise. A tired-looking woman in a smart skirt and blouse stepped in, followed by a man in hospital uniform. “Ah, Ben Osborne isn’t it? You’re looking brighter. I’m Doctor Sally Norman, and I’ve been handling your case. I’ll just adjust your oxygen, if I may. You probably don’t need it so rich now you’re back with us. Are you okay to talk?”

Ben agreed, and she went on briskly, “Your friend has been very helpful in describing what happened at the gym, but she didn’t seem to know the details of your personal health history. Didn’t you have your blue inhaler with you at the gym?”

Ben confessed he didn’t know what she meant, so she explained with seemingly strained patience, “It seems you had a severe asthma attack. You’re not getting any treatment for asthma? But it has been diagnosed? No? Really? Well, you’ll need tests, but that’s certainly what it looks like. We’ll get a chest x-ray too. This man will take you down there. But can I ask, are you a smoker? Good. And what’s your line of work?”

Ben explained that he was a tree surgeon, but he also worked with a lot of the timber he felled for the carpentry and joinery trade. That seemed to give the doctor an idea. “Ah, wood dust,” she said, “Exposed to it a lot, would you say? And any allergies? Well, maybe we need to test that too. If I remember, some species are serious triggers. And there are mould spores and what-not. I’ll refer you to a specialist, but it could be that long term exposure has tipped you over the edge.”

Ben told her that he’d been spending the last few days sawing an especially large intake of cedar for timber. “Ah-ha! We may have found your smoking gun,” Doctor Norman concluded. “Well, we’d like to keep you in tonight, if your friend doesn’t mind picking up your things from home. It looks like you’re out of the woods, so to speak, but it’s best you’re kept under observation, and kept topped up with oxygen for the time being too. I’ll see you again in half an hour or so when we have your x-rays, then we’ll see about moving you onto the ward. All right?”

The doctor was already moving on, but the hospital orderly seemed in less of a rush. “Are you coming down to radiology with me, pet? You can keep your man company.”

“He’s not…” Marcie began, but then gave up, finishing simply, “Thank you.”

“Hoy your bags down there and we’ll be off then.”

Ben saw Marcie pick up his rucksack that she must have brought from the gym and what he guessed was her sports bag too. She squatted down beside him to stow them under the bed as he lay there, whilst the orderly pulled back the curtains right back. Then he was gliding through the hospital again. He vaguely recognised the scenes and the whirl of activity as they passed, but with much more awareness now than when he’d first arrived. He was feeling less spaced out now too, and wondered if that was something to do with the doctor’s adjustment of his oxygen supply. Again he felt guilty at the trouble he was putting people to when there were so many other people who were really sick.

The orderly left them in a corridor beside a blank door under an industrial warning light. “Are you doing okay?” he heard Marcie ask. She must have been sat at a chair behind his head, out of his line of sight.

“To be honest, I’m a bit scared,” he found himself confessing. “That doctor, if I understood, she said I might have had a reaction to sawdust. If that’s a risk for me now, it means I can’t work. And I don’t want to be a sick person, staying in hospital.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that, right? They just like to be sure. Once you’re here they want to keep an eye on you, like she said. And don’t worry about the future now. Let’s just think of the next step. Is there someone I can call for you to come round now?”

“Erm, no, I can’t think of anyone as it happens,” Ben puzzled. “My dad can’t come up from Lincolnshire and my brother’s away. I can’t think my workmates would be that bothered. Nor my other mates.”

“I was thinking of someone more like a wife or girlfriend or whatever,” he heard Marcie explain with perhaps strained patience.

“Oh, erm, no. I can’t ask her. We’ve only just started dating, really. I’ve not known her that long. I’ve only seen her a few times like that, as her boyfriend I mean.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Marcie replied, then sighed, “Well, I can get your stuff, like the doctor asked, if you like.”

“Oh no, I can’t ask you to do that! I’ve already messed you around too much.”

He felt Marcie’s hand on his shoulder, her grip reassuring him. “Hey, it’s not a problem. I said I can stick around. You’re my good deed for the day. You live near the gym, right?”

“Aye, in Shieldfield. I rent a flat from the Trust above the workshop. But really, I can’t ask you to run around for me.”

“Okay, look. There’s a custom, you know, in some places. If I offer you something and I mean it, I ask three times. It’s polite of you to decline twice, but on the third time you say yes. You know I’m sincere, and I know you’re not taking advantage of my better nature. So, for the third time, do you want me to pop round to your flat, pack an overnight bag for you, then bring it in to you on the ward?”

“Aye, yes please,” Ben simply stated, feeling relieved that she might visit him again before his night in the hospital.

“Okay. Good. Now, I know we don’t know each other, and maybe you don’t trust me. But if I take your keys, I’ll leave you something of mine. It’s not much, but it’s precious to me.” Marcie had withdrawn her hand. Now she was pressing something back into his hand. He raised it to his face. It was a pendant, a kind of silver cross on a matching chain, warm on his fingertips as if she had been wearing it against her skin.

“I’ll keep it safe,” he said, examining it closely. The cross had equal arms with notches in their wide ends. He guessed it must be significant of something, but he couldn’t think what.

Just then, the door they’d been waiting at burst open and two people in heavy hospital aprons stepped out. “Mr Osborne?” the older man said, reading from the notes he was holding. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Suspected pneumoconiosis, I see. We’ll take an x-ray of your chest now, okay? I’m glad to see you’ve read the sign and started taking your jewellery off. Out running, were you? The forecast looked good for it this morning. Are you okay waiting here, ma’am? We won’t need him for long.”

Then he was being wheeled into a darkened room and the medical staff were busy around him, the man chattering as he worked quickly. “Pop your necklace in this tray. Do you have anything else with metal? We’ll need to lift your shirt off too. Are you okay sitting up? I’ll just unstrap the mask, if you can hold it over your mouth. That’s great. Now just lower it a moment and breathe normally while we get this off. There we go, that’s all untangled. Hold the mask up again and breathe in. Now we need to move you to this bed for the machine. Can you stand up by yourself do you think? That’s great, take it steady. We’ve got you. Excuse the cold hands. Well done, now lie back. That’s great. Hold the mask a moment longer while we get set up. Now let me take that off you and just breathe slowly for a moment.”

Ben was on his back again, his bare skin against a rough paper sheet. He felt the cold firm plastic of the bed pressing through it as the x-ray machine hung over him. He was glad to find that he could breathe easily without the mask and its oxygen. Then there was a clunking noise and then the staff were back.

“Well done. We got a nice clear image. Hold the mask again please, and breathe normally. Are you ready to sit up? Great, let’s pop your t-shirt back on. It’s awkward with this pipe, isn’t it? At least you’re not on the IV too. There we go. Shall I pop your necklace on for you too? That’s it, easier for me to do than you. Now I’ll put the mask’s straps back on then you can lie back again. We won’t keep your wife waiting any longer.”

Ben interrupted, “She’s not my wife,” but if the radiographer heard, he didn’t comment.

“There we go, ma’am, safe and sound. I’ll call for a porter, and you should be back with the A&E team in just a moment. I’m sure you’ll get well soon, young man!”

“I see you put my necklace on,” Marcie said as she stood over Ben, once they were alone again, “Does that mean I can have the keys to your flat now?”

“I’m sorry. The x-ray man, he put it on me.”

“I’m teasing! You’ll keep it safe there. It was a gift from my grandmother, you know. Now, I heard your address read out. Let’s check I got it right.”

She’d been rummaging in her bag under Ben’s bed, to find a pen and paper he guessed, when another orderly appeared. “Excuse me. Patient for A&E, yes?” he asked brusquely.

Ben soon found himself back in what seemed to be the same cubicle he’d been in before. The orderly closed the curtains on them and left.

“This is absurd,” Ben said. “I’m sure I can stand up and walk about. I’m not sure I even need this mask anymore. I had it off when they took my x-ray.”

“Hey, you be a good patient, okay? Patience is the word. Now let me get your address, and you can tell me how to get there. You’d better talk me through how to find what you need too.”

With her pen and what seemed to be a small Filofax in her hand, Ben explained things to Marcie in short bursts. He was embarrassed about describing where she might find his clean t-shirts and underwear, but she coaxed it all out of him. He realised he was becoming increasingly happy and confident in opening up to her, responding to her practical competence. She thought of the toothbrush and toiletries that he’d need too, then she asked, “And pyjamas?”

“Erm, I don’t wear any,” Ben confessed.

“Well that won’t do in hospital,” she said decisively, looking straight at him. “You’ll just have to wear your boxer shorts and a t-shirt. I’ll bring extras.”

They both startled when the curtain was pulled back loudly again, letting Doctor Norman enter the cubicle with a male nurse. “Ben and, I’m sorry, what was your name?”

Marcie answered before the doctor went on, speaking quickly. “I’m glad you’re still here to hear this too. I’ve had a look at your x-ray, Ben, and I’m sorry to say that it might not be simple asthma. It’s not too serious, don’t worry, definitely nothing like cancer. But there are indicators of something called pneumoconiosis on your lungs. We see it more in miners, ship workers and so on. It is an occupational hazard of working with mineral dust especially, but your sawmill is definitely a risky environment too. You’re unlucky to have got it so young, but on the other hand it’s lucky that we caught it early. I’ll make sure you’re referred to a consultant, but I’m afraid you may need to spend some time off your work, especially if there’s also an allergic reaction that’s developed to trigger the asthma. It is one of those things that doesn’t just go away again, I’m sorry to say. But you’re already doing the right thing by not smoking, and you’re still young. I don’t want to give you false hopes, but I think if you avoid the problematic dust, you should find you adapt and get fit again in time.”

Ben found he was speechless, and was suddenly acutely aware of his breath, taking in the hissing artificial gas. Would this be his future? When Marcie gripped his hand, he realised he’d involuntarily reached out for her to hold it again.

“Thank you for your candour, doctor,” Marcie spoke up, perhaps nervously filling the silence, “It’s a lot to take in, I guess. Does that mean Ben will need to stay in hospital longer?” Ben was grateful that she’d asked exactly the right question, thinking just of the next step for now.

“No, I don’t think so. It will be for the ward doctor to decide, but I expect if you have a good night, we’ll be very happy to send you home. You can get a sick note for your employer from us before you leave, and we’ll write a letter to your GP. Make an appointment with them, and they can set you up with routine asthma treatment. If you take it easy, everyday activities should be no problem at all. But for the next few weeks at least, don’t do anything too strenuous. Avoid activities that might elevate your heart rate or leave you panting. The consultant should advise you on a gentle fitness regime to build up your strength up again slowly. Now, if it’s okay, I’d like you to sit up and we can see how you’re breathing without that mask.”

Marcie dropped Ben’s hand, then the nurse held Ben’s elbow as he swung around onto the edge of the bed. Doctor Norman stepped forward to lift the straps over Ben’s head and to take the oxygen mask away. “Just breathe normally, if you can,” she instructed. Ben was glad that his breath seemed to be coming easily, despite his anxiety. “Good. Let me listen to your chest if I may,” the doctor said, putting her stethoscope in her ears.

Ben noticed Marcie look away as he raised his t-shirt, gathering the fabric under his armpits, but then perhaps she thought twice about the false pretence of modesty. She looked up into his eyes and seemed to smile encouragingly whilst the doctor placed the cool stethoscope in different positions all around his bare chest.

“Very good,” the doctor finally announced. “There are definitely spots that sound a bit ragged, but overall you seem to have bounced back very well. I can’t hear significant residual constriction from the asthma. We’ll keep you on the oxygen while you’re here, but I’m going to recommend we just put a little pipe under your nose. Nurse, could you find a cannula for Mister Osborne before we move him, please? Drop it back to one litre per minute now. He’ll be fine going up to the ward in a chair too. You can slip the mask back on for now.” As the nurse helped Ben back into the oxygen mask, Doctor Norman added, “By the way, I hadn’t noticed your pendant before. It’s very nice. Do you have a connection to Malta?”

Ben wasn’t sure what the doctor meant, and was glad when Marcie spoke up as the nurse helped him to lie back again, “It’s my family, actually. My parents were both born there.”

“Ah, of course. Well, I hope it brings you good luck, Ben. As I say, take it easy, and I’m sure you’ll feel fit and healthy again before too long. I’ll discharge you from A&E now, so all the best.”

“And I’ll just get that oxygen pipe for you, Ben, then we’ll get you onto the ward,” the nurse added as both of them left.

“I’m sorry, that didn’t sound like good news,” Marcie said, drawing her chair close to Ben’s bedside again.

“It’s quite a lot to take in. But I’m sorry too. People keep thinking we’re a couple. And it’s my fault that you’re here at all.”

“Stop fussing! I said I’m happy to help.” Marcie hesitated, then went on, “Does it bother you that they think we’re a couple? Would you rather I hadn’t been here for all that?”

“No,” Ben replied earnestly, then realised how sincerely he meant it, how it actually made him very happy to imagine Marcie as his girlfriend. She was quite different from his usual partners, less glamorous in a way, smaller and darker, more intellectual perhaps. But she had shown such self-assurance and kindness throughout his sudden crisis, throwing herself in wholeheartedly to support him. He thought of Jo, with whom he had a date coming up, after the night they’d spent together just last week. She was blonde, graceful, fun-loving and proud of her own dazzling beauty. But he couldn’t picture her here, now.

He touched Marcie’s cross through the fabric of his t-shirt, pressing it into his chest, thinking of the insight into its significance and how that made Marcie seem somehow exotic. He had thought that he was just wearing her necklace as a kind of insurance for her access to his flat, but perhaps she’d offered a part of herself to him already as well, giving herself into his trust. These thoughts came to him an instant, before he went on with his answer, “No, I am very glad that you’ve kept me company.”

He was aware that he’d dodged Marcie’s other question. He couldn’t think how he’d explain his feelings about the two of them as a couple, when really they were still strangers. She might be married herself, he realised, someone’s mother even. But even as these thoughts arose, he somehow recognised that they couldn’t be true. He felt sure they were both still in that fluid exploratory phase of their early adult lives. Well, his circumstances might have suddenly changed in that regard, he reflected ruefully.

Only a moment had passed while they’d sat in silence, perhaps each gathering their thoughts, before the nurse came back, pushing a heavy-looking wheelchair with a bundle of wrapped medical supplies on its seat. “Okay, we’re all set. I’ll just fit this canula. They can seem a bit of a nuisance at first, but you’ll get used to it in no time. Then I’ll move you up to Ward Thirty myself. Did Doctor Norman say you were popping out to get some things for Ben, pet? You’ll find Thirty no trouble if come back through the main entrance. It will give you a chance to change out of your gym kit too, right? I bet you didn’t expect you’d be hanging around a hospital in it all afternoon!”

“Yes, use the shower if you want,” Ben suddenly realised how selfish he’d been, not thinking of Marcie’s discomfort, “Take your time.”

“Aye,” the nurse agreed, “There’s no rush. Ward visiting runs to seven. And if you’re quiet, we’ll let you stay later. Grab yourself some scran too. Are you off now then, pet?”

He’d asked this as Marcie had made a move to pull the bags out from under the bed. This had surprised Ben a little, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to get move on. He just hoped he hadn’t caused any offence by mentioning the shower. He certainly didn’t want her to think that he’d thought she was dirty for sitting around in her gym clothes, but felt he couldn’t say anything more in front of the nurse.

“Are your keys in one of these pockets?” was all Marcie asked, holding up his bag. Ben tried to guide her, but she fell back on trial and error to find them, whilst the nurse took Ben’s mask off. Once she had the keys, she bundled Ben’s bag back up, then checked she had her Filofax in her own bag, before glancing at her watch. “I’ve got all I need now. I’ll leave your gym rucksack here, and I’ll definitely be back before six, okay?”

The nurse was fiddling with the oxygen lines around Ben’s face, but he tried to say as clearly and sincerely as he could, “Thank you. You’ve really been great. Honestly, I don’t know what I would…”

“Oh, shut up!” she interrupted with a wry smile. “You just sit tight and take it easy, and we’ll talk more about everything soon.”