14. Chesford Cantata
Love is the God with the golden heart
Love is the Devil that rips you apart
Two weeks after the accident in the square, the hospital allowed Robert Simpson to go home. The results of all his tests having been completed; his condition remained the same and was diagnosed as permanent Lucy came to collect him. She took him first to see the yoghurt knitting sandal wearers at the Council for Living with Mobility Problems, as Bob so affectionately called them, to discuss coping with his disability. Because of her training and her current job, Lucy was well aware of the difficulties Bob would have to face, but he disliked outside interference, he hated social workers, and was managing quite well as it happened. The councillors offered their council and the psychologists their platitudes, but at the end of it all, his condition was still the same. He still couldn’t walk! Fortunately, Bob was quite philosophical about the whole affair. Unlike Michael, he did not blame the whole world for his injuries; Bob did not even blame Sarah-Jane. Indeed, before his discharge from the hospital, he asked Lucy to push him into her room where he sat admiring the lovely vision that lay static before him. The sight of the young girl in such a state of limbo brought tears to his eyes.
Lucy had previously arranged through her contacts at the Disability Living Trust for temporary accommodation, suitable for a wheel chair. Her plan was that when the insurance money eventually came through together with the proceeds of the sale of the house back in Newcastle, Bob could buy a nice suitable house, or have it converted if necessary. The only problem with her theory was that Bob was not enamoured by Chesford. The city had nothing going for it as far as he was concerned. If the city of Chesford was a colour it would undoubtedly have been grey, whereas Newcastle was chameleon-like, changing from vibrant red to soothing blue with every tide that swept up the Tyne. Bob felt like a fish out of water (although as Chesford often smelt of rotting fish, perhaps he should have felt more at home).He missed the sea and the noisy sea gulls chattering in the half-light of dawn. He missed the early morning raucous as the fish market began its auction. He was Geordie and wanted to be home. For the present, however, he was content to go along with Lucy. She, like all women was happier when she thought she was in control and Bob was happy to let her think she was in control. He was pleased with the attention she was lavishing on him, she visited every day at the hospital. He loved it. He loved her; but ultimately he knew he would return home with or without Lucy, but hopefully with her.
Bob had tried to like Chesford. He had, for Lucy’s sake; but he longed for the green hills, the rolling suburbia, the friendly people, the smoke, and the grime. Yes, the Toon had character. Chesford had none. It was quiet, nondescript. It may have been a bubbling cauldron of racial unrest, drug culture, and alcohol-induced fervour, but on the surface, to an outsider, it was boring. It was perhaps the most boring place Bob had ever been to. The main problem with the city as Bob saw it was the lack of identity. It was so cosmopolitan. The council appeared to demolish anything older ten years in the name of progress, thus losing any link with history, and Chesford did have a very colourful past. It grew up in the Middle Ages and only 20 years ago, there was a host of medieval shops and houses teetering over the pavement. Most of them had gone now. Either moved brick-by-brick, like some gigantic 3D puzzle, to a ‘touristy’ part of town; or even more curiously packed away in crates deep in the vaults below the Council House Such was progress. To be fair, Hitler’s bombs destroyed most of the city centre in 1940, but what he left standing, the Council finished off. It was the just the sort of place to come to if your doctor gave you six months to live – It would seem like six years!
Being so close as it was to the second city of Birmingham, Chesford suffered from a lack of investment, ingenuity and enterprise After all, why build an ice-rink when there is one a bus ride away. Why build plush cinemas and nightclubs when Broad St boasts ‘Ronnie Scotts and the ‘Millionaires Club’? The grand neighbour was gradually swallowing up Chesford. The so-called green belt land between the two cities was all but gone. Housing developments and supermarkets had eaten into the parks and gardens, and the concrete jungle so beloved by West Midland planners was stretching its ugly arms to every quarter. In his short time in the city, Bob had found it unfriendly and filthy. Indeed, it had only recently won the coveted award as the filthiest town in Britain, an accolade it would have no trouble retaining for posterity. The council in an attempt to lose this title did spend £90,000 on dog bins. Unfortunately, no one seems to have bothered to train the dogs to pick the litter up, and so the bins stayed empty. Crumbling buildings lined the once proud streets; run down decaying streets, which were full of ‘interesting’ people. You know the sort of people with an intelligence level slightly above a tent peg, who holiday in Ibiza, drink lager till comes out of their ears and with whom you could have hours of stimulating conversation with (provided of course you had been dead for weeks!)
Cloudy skies, grey ribbon roads
Next-door neighbour’s no one knows
Friendly folk with time to spare?
History’s gone, but we don’t care
Sarah opened her eyes for the first time. The little cassette player was drumming out some unknown dance-mix that Edna had given to Mark to bring in to the hospital. “Sarah” Mark spoke softly but excitedly. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Mark pressed the buzzer to summon a nurse. Sarah’s eyes flickered once more her lashes fluttering like a butterfly trapped in a spotlight. She adjusted to the light. It was blurred. The music was extraordinarily loud; her ears began to hurt. The light shone brightly into her face, her eyes stopped flickering. A stern looking nurse arrived, puzzled as to why this young man should have woken her from the only catnap that she had been able to grab during her 18-hour shift.
“What’s wrong?” she snapped
“Sarah-Jane is awake” Mark replied hardly able to contain his enthusiasm. The nurse looked at Sarah lying peacefully on the bed, perfectly still.
“She moved! Her eyes opened” Mark continued
“They often do, it doesn’t mean anything, I’m afraid” she said, crushing Marks eagerness
“Is Dr Bhatti around, can I talk to her? “ Mark did not like this nurse she sounded as if she did not believe him and Mark disliked her for that.
“Dr Bhatti is busy at the moment,” said the nurse as she took a meaningful look at the charts at the end of Sarah’s’ bed Sarah-Jane stared into the bright light; it became more focused now, not as fuzzy. The light was intense; it filled the little room. Sarah looked up; the ceiling changed into a bright clear blue sky. The bed was soft and luxuriant. No wait! It was not a bed it was too light, too fluffy – more like cotton wool or a cloud even. She felt herself floating up towards the light. The sky beckoned. The ceiling had vanished. The walls around her dissolved. She kept her eyes tightly closed; she dare not open them as she drifted towards the powerful light source. It pulled her ever onwards and upwards. She could hear the music from the cassette growing fainter; she dared to open her eyes. Looking down, she could see the light was much dimmer now, she could see the tubes and wires extending from her body. She could see Mark sitting by the edge of her bed, holding her hand. She called out to him “Mark, Mark” but he could not hear her. A bell was ringing; the troughs and peaks that the lines made on the screen became straight. Sarah could see there were no more wavy lines! Doctors and nurses rushed from all around into the small white room, confusion reigned all around her and Mark was ushered out of the room.
Sarah could see a man in a hideous pink shirt and stripy braces shining a torch into her eyes, but she could see nothing of its beam. She felt nothing as he pounded her chest. She tried to call out again but to no avail. Her thoughts went out to Mark; he looked so worried as the nurse took him out into the corridor. Sarah concentrated her mind, focussing in on Mark, and found herself outside with him in the corridor. She wanted to console him; she willed herself along the small corridor and called out to him “Mark I’m here. Mark look up at me I’m here Mark”. Her cries went unheeded. She was upset at not being able to comfort Mark, or her mother, who by now was sobbing uncontrollably. She saw the young Asian doctor in her pristine white coat and she could see all the comings and goings from the little ward in which her body lay
“I love you Mark,” she shouted above the din Mark looked up to the ceiling. He was looking right at her “You can’t die Sarah, please, you just can’t, don’t go yet, we have so much more to do together. Please come back to me Sarah please. Just come home Sarah-Jane please come back to me”
Floating on the edge of a gossamer dream
A silent seraphim sweeps
through the clouds of cupid’s highway
Are you going to come home, my dear?
Are you going to come home?
…..………………………………………………………
Michael was not behaving himself with Marsha
`“Leave me alone woman, don’t fuss so” he snarled
“Look, I need to give you your medication” she argued “and I won’t take no for an answer”
“Well you’ll have to force them down my throat then, ‘cos I’m not taking them off you. I’ll wait for Lucy” Michael was back to his old belligerent self.
“Lucy is not coming today, you know that, and if you think these antics will force me to phone her then you’re wrong. She is far too busy with her husband, he’s coming out of hospital today” Michael sulked; he did not need reminding about Lucy’s husband thank you very much!
“Poor woman, you run her ragged, I don’t know how she has put up with you for so long.” Marsha continued as she stood up to Michael, and not for the first time. He liked a woman with spunk It was feistiness that first attracted him to Lucy but this woman was just bossy and Michael hated ‘bossy’
“You’ll never be half her equal,” Michael finally said not really understanding what he meant but hoped it sounded impressive enough to stump Marsha
“Ok, you win, I’ll leave them on the table for you to take as you wish” and Marsha put the two pillboxs on the dining table. Michael knocked it with his fingers into his lap and wheeled off in the direction of his office
“I suppose you’d all be happy if I wasn’t around” he mumbled silently, more to himself than anyone else. He entered his office, switched on his computer and began playing with his new toy. The view-cam showed the strain in his eyes as he laboured over an entry in his video diary. As he had not been using the audio version much lately, he had much to tell as he sat before the flickering screen. The visit to the solicitors and the change to his will, how much he loved Lucy but now feared he losing probably the only thing he ever cared for
“She was like a light going on in a darkened room and someone has turned the light off”. He spoke softly into the microphone “I know who turned the light off” he continued with a picture of a smiling Bob in his mind “But I don’t know whether I’m up to the struggle to win her back.” Michael had met Bob. He had been introduced to him on Lucy’s last visit to the hospital, having finally agreed to accompany her, Michael was particularly obtuse that day, but managed a brief ‘hello’ Bob had smiled back and greeted Michael with gusto, which unfortunately only made things worse. Not only did Michael feel as if he was losing the love of his life, but she had this jovial bloke in who would be wheelchair bound for the rest of his natural to care for in his stead. How the hell could he still be so cheerful after all that has happened. Damn him! Michael continued his diatribe with the computer, pouring out his venom and bile, peppering it occasionally with his thoughts on Lucy. Just how did he feel about her? Why had she kept her husband so secret from him? Was she really intending to leave him? On the other hand, is she just patronising me? Have I misread the signs?
there he stood, waiting for the sun to sink
beneath its ring of lights
he smiled through the mask of tomorrow
and his dreams were always one step ahead.
there he stood, contemplating on the prospects of life
which held little but failure
she came to the edge of his tears to weep.
and his dreams were always one step ahead.
there he lay, downing in the pool of his tears
on the shores of a Lake of Self Pity.
she looked at his broken body of dreams,
which were no longer just one step ahead.
………………………………………………………………
Lucy wheeled Bob through the litter-strewn streets of the delightful town that he loved so much. He observed the people too busy to stop and chat; too frantic to get out of the way of his wheelchair and too disinterested in life to care. Being closer to the ground, as he was, Bob noticed certain things for the first time. Diesel fumes that belched out at just the right height to choke him from Chesfords’ wonderful fleet of passenger friendly buses, for instance and smell of rotten eggs and stale urine that invaded his nostrils. The latter no doubt a result of the closure of every public lavatory within a 20 mile radius of the town, in an attempt to save money. This was done with all good intention, so that any money saved could be recycled into the community and spent on more important projects. The canopy built to cover the famous statues, being once such example, a wonderful piece of architecture, pure, white, and pristine, until the pigeons decided they would decorate it in their own inimitable way.
Bob was very talkative this morning. He was determined not to let this depressing place get to him. He had Lucy. Mission accomplished! ‘So I lost my legs on the way’ he thought to himself ‘but I always said I’d give my right arm to get Lucy back, so it doesn’t seem such a bad deal’ he smiled to himself, for once he agreed with his inner psyche instead of arguing. He looked up at Lucy, who was deep in thought; about Michael, she had not yet reached any conclusion about the mess that she now found herself in; Michael was sweet and generous, she liked him a lot, but Bob needed her now and he did seem to be a different person. They turned the corner into the square
“Shall we stop in Caspers for a bevy? She asked her charge
“You betcha girl” Bob replied with relish
Now it was no co-incidence that Lucy had come this way, she was hoping to bump into Mark Hero; he had mentioned at their last meeting that he often stopped for a drink on the way home from seeing Sarah. Lucy was worried; she witnessed the frantic procession of doctors into Sarah-Jane’s room this morning and wondered what was going on. She missed any chance to see Mark since and feared the worse with her usual pessimism. She pushed Bob into the wine bar, ordered a couple of ‘Buds’ and sat down with him at a window table
“How long have you been drinking beer then?” he asked
“Oh you know how it is” she absent-mindedly responded, “Just occasionally I like a beer.” In fact, she had only just started drinking beer. She tried it once when she was out with Michael, liked it and found it less addictive than vodka or Port and Lemon. Lucy was distracted and not being very attentive to Bobs’ outpourings; mind you, he was used to talking to himself anyway. She was looking for Mark There was no sign of him and it worried her.