12. Sonata for Sarah
Love is happiness, laughter and light.
Love is the tears you are weeping at night
Edna had been at her daughters’ bedside all night; she was still there when Mark returned the next morning “How is she Mrs S?” Mark asked
“No change dear”
“Why don’t you get off home and get some rest, I’ll stay for awhile, ‘till you get back if you like. I have asked for a couple of days off from the factory,” Mark volunteered
“I could do with a break. I’ll pop back after lunch” Mrs Sullivan said stifling a yawn
There was plastic tubing arcing its way in and out of available orifices from Sarah’s’ body and her nose and mouth took on the appearance of an African ritual piercing. Electrical wires extended from various points to machines that pumped her blood, fed her and controlled her breathing. A bank of monitors watched with flickering accuracy their charges condition. Sarah was still in a coma. The doctors had already told Edna that there were no critical internal injuries and that the superficial cuts and bruises would soon heal and leave no scar. Their main worry was the head wound. Sarah had had a scan but nothing had shown up. Plenty had shown up on the blood tests however, and Dr Bhatti was about to broach the subject with Edna when Mark had arrived.
Mark quite liked this doctor, who unlike most of her colleagues actually looked like a doctor.
The crisp white coat she wore at least gave Mark the impression that she knew what she was talking about. All the older specialists or surgeons, whatever their grand title Mark didn’t know; but they seemed aloof and disinterested. With their three pieces suits and fancy braces, they seemed more in tune with a Rome or Paris catwalk than a hospital ward. Dr Bhatti did know what she was talking about, as it happened. She was a neurological specialist and had coaxed many patients out of deep trances. She was used to dealing with severe trauma and was also an expert in ‘social drugs’ as such things were known, although Mark could never understand what was so sociable about killing yourself. Mind you dear reader I am sure you could think of one or two people that if they committed suicide would have been considered doing the world a favour. (Answers on a postcard please!!) The original consultant had called in Dr Gurinder Bhatti when they found evidence of the cocktail of substances inside Sarah-Jane. It was thought her expertise in this area would be useful, plus the fact it enabled him to go off and play his golf.
The bleep bleep of the bedside monitors that supervised Sarah-Jane formed a bizarre background to the concerned words of the doctor. “Our main worry is the opiates; dilaudio a heroin type drug and MDMA ecstasy. It was probably this that produced the halucogenic effects and the trauma that she was obviously suffering from.” Mark looked puzzled, and Dr Bhatti could see his concern, she continued “Something made her run naked out of the house and in front of that car, it is certainly not normal behaviour; but we may never know the real truth, it may be too much for her brain to cope with.” She explained, Mark and Edna were listening attentively. The doctor went on “The coma may be Sarah’s way of dealing with the trauma, she has shut down the system completely, if she comes out” the well spoken doctor quickly corrected herself “when she comes out of the coma she may well have no memory of the incident”
“How long will that be, doctor – can you tell?” asked Edna
“Not really. It could be days, weeks or even months; we have no way of knowing what is going on inside her head. We are monitoring her all the time and she is stable” The doctor smiled, trying to minimise the seriousness of Sarah’s predicament.
“Can you wean her off the stuff she’s been taking whilst she’s in here?” Mark inquired
“We can try, she may well be clear of any withdrawal symptoms when she comes round. On the other hand, she may not; but the most important thing is to clean her blood, feed her properly and get some nutrients into her. Nature should do the rest or rather Sarah herself. The power to heal oneself comes from within. We must wait, be patient and just let matters take their course. We are doing everything we can. Sarah-Jane is in the best possible hands” Dr Bhatti went on to explain about Sarah being on the edge of a precipice, she go forward into a deep abyss or take a step back, the choice was really her own. “These substances that Sarah has been taking are mind altering drugs; we have no idea what effect they may be having on her immune system, and we must hope that her will to survive is strong enough to bring her back.” Edna looked up through reddened eyes, she had not really understood most of the doctors’ words, she was too engrossed with her daughter, but she knew a kind voice and a friendly manner when she heard it and thanked the doctor for being so honest and straightforward.
“Now I really must go,” Edna said, “I’ll call in the church and ask Father O’Malley to pray for Sarah-Jane, I’ll be back later” she aimed her words in the general direction of the bed even though she was really addressing Mark.
“I’ll still be here, when you come back Mrs S.” Mark said, secretly thinking to himself that if the man in purple really could do something then now would be a good time. Somehow, he doubted it. He sat on the chair that Edna Sullivan had vacated and held the hand of his loved one. He stared at her blank expressionless face, her eyes seemed to flicker, but perhaps it was the merely the lights reflecting on her dark brown pupils. Mark looked hard at the bedside screens, the pretty, coloured lines undulated with metronome regularity. He stared and worried to himself that they might stop. He stared and stared. It was the first time he could ever remember not being bored whilst watching television.
Deep blue mysteries of the mind you never know what you might find
Gentle waves on the beach they roll opening windows to the soul
The cars that had been following the Transit had changed three times by the time it got back to the Velvet Sun Factory. They were professionals and Larry had not noticed any of them. He drove into the yard at the side as the wind pushed the litter against the back fence of the factory Pointers Inks stood in a very exposed position on the north side of Chesford. The open fields at the back stretched as far as the eye could see and varying shades of yellow, green and brown painted a picturesque backdrop to the small industrial estate. Built in the re-development, which followed the war, it stood on former green belt land, turned over to industrial use to house the mighty Triumph works. Cars trundled off the production line at the rate of forty cars an hour. Working two shifts, five days a week, it did not take a genius to work out that the market would eventually collapse. After numerous takeover and various attempts at workers buy-outs, redundancies were soon the order of the day (although it was of course re-designated ‘downsizing’ to soften the blow for the employees.)
Inevitably, the factory closed. The Townsend Industrial Estate built on the redundant site was named after the councillor whose brainchild it had been. The place became a proud emblem for the ‘new job-creation schemes so popular with government at the time. There were about a dozen small to medium units on the estate. Pointers Inks had been deliberately allocated the large end unit to subvert any residential protest. Although locals did complain, from time to time, about the fumes that emanated from the chimney, which towered above the Velvet Sun Factory. A business friendly council keen to promote its own schemes and encourage enterprising entrepreneurs soon dismissed such objections. Mr Pointer, as in the name, didn’t exist but came about because of a sign writing error. (Although how an ‘r’ can be misconstrued as an ‘o’ is beyond me) The Fat Man saw the completed sign on returning to the site after a Bank holiday weekend and as the project was already behind schedule, he decided to let it stay. It suited his purpose.
Detective Superintendent Tatton and his assistant Detective Jenkins watched from the unmarked Peugeot as Larry unloaded the boxes from the van. It was not until he had finished that they approached him.
“Working late Sir?” Derrick Tatton queried as he walked briskly towards Larry.
“Yeah, bloody rush job. I should be in the Fox and Goose by now” Larry was unconcerned by the production of warrant cards, he assumed it was all part of the investigation into the fire.
“Can I see the documentation for that job?” the detective asked
“Sure” said Larry. He fetched the dockets from the cab, and when he returned, Jenkins had disappeared. Just as D.S Tatton was pretending to understand the paperwork, a red Mercedes pulled into the yard. The Fat Man got out with a face like a Rottweiller on heat
“Is there a problem Larry? He shouted over towards his driver.
“Ah Mr Forman” the detective saw the Fat Man starting towards them “We saw the gates open and thought it a little unusual for a Sunday evening, just checking it out so to speak Sir” the detective was desperately trying to hide his obvious embarrassment, he continued. “Particularly in view of the fire recently, we thought you might have unwanted visitors”
Fine! Look officer I can confirm that this man works for me. We have a very important order on, and needed these returns tonight. The formula is wrong. It needs regrinding and despatching all by tomorrow night. That’s why I‘ve come down.” He said angrily, adding. “Although to be perfectly frank, (which is clever considering his name was Jack) It’s none of you damn business!”
Jenkins wandered out of the warehouse at that inopportune moment, apparently oblivious to the presence of the factory owner and making no attempt to hide the intrusion..
“Do you mind telling me what that man was doing in my factory Superintendent? Have you got a search warrant?” The Fat Man was gesticulating violently at the senior man.
“No Sir, please calm down. I told you it was just a routine call; we have no need to apply for a warrant. We’ve finished now; everything seems to be in order”
The Fat Man glared at the policemen as they walked back to their car “I’ll be reporting this incident to your superiors. I know the Chief Constable well” Larry continued to load up the van with Mondays orders, smiling to himself at all the excitement. Mr Forman disappeared inside the factory to check his packages.
“Nothing Sir – tins of ink, that’s all,” Jenkins said when they were back in the car
“Duff info then “his superior replied,” I’ll have him for wasting our time; and You” the D.S. shook his head “You could have kept your head down whilst Jack Forman was about”
“Sorry gaffer I didn’t think anything to it, no harm down though eh” the sergeant responded “Let’s hope not, Jenkins for both our sakes.”
Scarlet riders on saddles black with dust.
Take me back into the quietness of time.
And let me rest awhile to discover all my dreams
Lucy arrived at the hospital and inquired at the reception about Robert Simpson. She was met by a nurse who was to take her up to see Bob, explaining on the way that the consultant was already up there and would clarify the position regarding Bobs’ condition. The neurologist met Lucy on the third floor and greeted her with a curt “Hello, I’m Mr Blair, I’m dealing with your husbands injuries”
“Hello” said Lucy “How is he doctor?”
“It’s early days yet, but the tests are not hopeful. He may have permanently lost the use of his legs” Lucy nodded. The consultant continued, “We still have other tests to carry out, both neurological and physiological, but I thought I should put you fully in the picture”
Lucy was still in a state of shock, ever since she bumped into Mark at Caspers and heard about the accident, she had had a bad feeling. Now the irony of the situation almost brought a smile to her face. She thought of Michael in his wheelchair, and then replaced him in her minds eye with Bob. Life could be so cruel she thought and was very adept at dishing up complications to add to her present dilemma regarding them both.
Bob looked well considering what he’d just been through His face had a few scratches, although he was no oil painting before and some might say the blemishes gave him a rugged more masculine appearance. He looked peaceful and only when he tried to move did anyone realise he was in acute pain
“I can’t feel my legs Luce” he blurted out as Lucy approached “They told me they might come back, but hey who are they kidding, I know Luce. I can’t feel my legs. What am I going to do?”
Lucy gave him a peck on the cheek. He seemed a completely different bloke to the one that she had run away from all those months ago. His bitterness and anger, although still there, was now directed at his condition rather than her.
“Don’t get yourself all worked up” she said, “I’m here now”
“Thanks Luce, I didn’t think you’d find me. I thought you would think I‘d stood you up and you’d say Sod the bugger. I know you” he half laughed, then coughed and remembered how much his bruised chest hurt him. The nurse checked the chart at the end the bed and administered a creamy looking liquid
“Try not to get him too excited Mrs Simpson” she said addressing Lucy “We had the police here yesterday upsetting him”
“No I won’t I promise” Lucy smiled at the young nurse as she left the room She turned to Bob
“What did the police have to say then?
“Nothing much, she’s exaggerating they were just going through the accident really. It wasn’t my fault Lucy honest. The kid just ran out. She was starkers!” Bob emphasised the word, as if it was far more important that she was naked than the fact she was hysterical and hell bent on killing herself.“I braked hard and skidded demolished a couple of statues by all accounts, I don’t remember. They’re checking the car out, just routine they said, but it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t stop in time. Nowhere to go” Bob looked towards his estranged wife as if to get acknowledgement that he was not to blame for the tragedy.
“That girl is called Sarah-Jane. She’s in the room down the corridor” Lucy replied, “She’s in a coma.” She went on to explain her meeting with Mark in Casper’s and how she had come to know were Bob was, how she instinctively knew it was him when Mark mentioned a Rover and a Geordie “What on earth possessed you to come down here in the first place? And how did you know where I was? She had lost any anger she once had for Bob; in fact, she was a little flattered he had had the gumption to follow her and try to track her down.
“The bank wrote you a letter about moving your account to Chesford, they mentioned D.L.T. and the rest was easy with my charm and wit” Bob tried to smile again, he was quite pleased with his detective work and assumed Lucy would be also be proud of his persistence and perseverance. She was not; well she was not going to let him know even if she was!
“How dare you open my mail? I came here to get away from you - remember. To get away from your overpowering nature and the constant aggravation” She stopped herself in full flow for fear of making his injuries worse. Anyway how could she be too angry with a man who and chased after her and crashed his car on the way to meet her. Nevertheless, she was damned if she was going let him know that. He was not getting off that lightly.
“I’ve changed Luce – honest –anyway I can’t do much now can I? You can’t leave me now with no legs. You’ll have to come back to me now. How will I ever manage without you?”
Lucy looked straight at her husband, then at the ring on her finger and eventually back to Bob. Her mind had been made up once, now it was confused again. She secretly slipped the ring from her hand so as Bob would not notice the large stone. “Robert Simpson, what are we going to do with you?”
“Take me back Luce, take me home – Please?”
Lost in the mind of her unconscious
Hiding behind the doors of night and day,
Lying in wait for the time to be right
Which way will you jump my dear, which way?
Deep in the multicoloured lights of the church
The ghost of the priest kneels to pray
Trying to help at the crossroads of life
Which way will you jump my dear, which way?
Mark had stayed with Sarah most of the morning, watching for the little signs of movement, signs of life, and signs of love. Once Edna came back, Mark slipped down the corridor to look in on Mr Simpson. Lucy was still there.
“Bob, this is Mr Hero, the fiancé of Sarah –Jane, the injured girl”
“I didn’t see her mate, till it was too late, It wasn’t...” Mark interrupted him “Don’t trouble yourself, call me Mark by the way,” he said offering his hand towards Bob “It’s alright, it’s me who should be apologising for Sarah and it’s you who should feel aggrieved. You do not expect people running out in front of you like that. Sarah has not been very well.”
“You’re telling me…”Lucy nudged Bob into silence “Is there any improvement?” she asked
“No, no change, we’ve just got to wait so the doctor keeps telling us. He is on the mend though, by the look of him. Looks quite chirpy now”
“That’s because of Lucy,” Bob piped up
“Bob!” Lucy was embarrassed
Standing on the lip of the cradle of life,
at the end of the worlds’ spinning dome,
Listening to answers of questions not asked.
When are you going to come home, my dear?
When are you going to come back?
The sun went down on another sleepy day and the lunar face smiled down on his subjects. Lucy found the poem that Michael had left on the coffee table. She was not in the mood after seeing Bob and tactfully explained the situation to Michael. She told him about Bob. How she had left him to start a new life, and how Bob had tracked her down and journeyed 200 miles to fetch her back. She told him about the horrific accident in the square and Sarah-Jane (he remembered her too!) It has all thrown me into confusion she finally concluded, “I need to assess the situation now,” she told him. “I need more time. My head is just spinning at the moment” Michael for his part seemed to take it badly. He had been so convinced that Lucy was on the verge of becoming his wife. Lucy noticed that as she readied him for bed, his old stubbornness had returned his sullen looks and morose tone. She gave him a kiss. He remained impassive.
“I may need to take some time off away” Lucy announced, “I’ll sort out a temporary replacement with the agency”
“I don’t want a temporary replacement. I want you!”
“It’ll only be until Bob’s well enough to leave the hospital. I will have to sort out the arrangements. You will like Bob. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow if you like,” Lucy, said trying to drag Michael out of his self induced depression.
“I’m busy tomorrow all day!”