‘You know if you don’t ply them with sugar they’re even worse!’ Alfie smiled at his friend, who had hooked his arm through his. He was a stubborn, strong-willed man, but at ninety-two years old Mr Peterson’s physique was understandably frail.
Their regular walk to Costa was an excuse to get away from the ward and escape some of the cabin fever that tended to set in. Alfie knew he needed to keep practising his walking and Mr Peterson was a sucker for a hot chocolate, so it suited both parties perfectly.
‘I had an interesting chat with Mother A this morning.’ Alfie tried to sound casual, knowing any hint of gossip would hook his friend in immediately.
‘Oh, yeah?’ The old man’s eyes lit up.
‘Turns out I’m getting a new neighbour. A silent one.’
‘You what?’ Mr Peterson’s face crumpled in confusion.
‘There’s someone moving into the bed next to me. Apparently she hasn’t spoken in weeks, refuses to, and has done ever since they admitted her. Nurse Angles says she’s pretty traumatized.’ Alfie shrugged, still puzzled by the silent determination of this patient.
‘I reckon she must be badly hurt.’
‘Sure seems that way, doesn’t it.’ Silence hung heavily between them as each focused intently on his slow shuffling steps.
‘Well, give it a week or so, these things always pass. And if not, then maybe she can teach you a thing or two about being quiet. Give us all some peace for a bit.’ The old man laughed loudly at his own humour.
‘Or … most likely, I’ll get her to cave, and in no time we’ll both be spending our days irritating you.’ Alfie nudged his friend gently in the ribs, grateful for the lightness returning to their conversation.
Mr Peterson rolled his eyes. ‘Good God, in that case I pray the lady never speaks again!’
7
Alice
When Alice had first been told she’d be moving wards, part of her was relieved. It meant progress was being made. She was no longer deemed in a critical condition and she was finally on the road back to her old life again. Although her skin grafts had started to heal, the burnt flesh beneath them slowly recovering, she still hadn’t spoken a word. What was there to say? All anyone wanted to hear from her was that she was ‘doing OK’. That she was ‘feeling much better, thanks’. Yet all you needed to do was take one look at her to know that was a lie. Not that she’d actually taken one look at herself since the accident. She had point blank refused to open her eyes when the doctors had encouraged her to look at her reflection. All she had to do was glance down at the congealed skin on her arms to get an idea of the damage done to her face. She didn’t need a mirror to know that she was significantly damaged goods.
And still the over-friendly, over-emotional and incessantly positive nurses carried on with their ‘weren’t you lucky’ bullshit.
‘Weren’t you lucky it only really affected one side of you, Alice.’
‘It’s lucky you were rescued when you were, or the damage might have spread to your right side too.’
Oh, wonderful, she would have been completely fucked up then. How lucky she felt that she was only disfigured down one side of her body.
Lucky, lucky fucking Alice.
‘Good morning, Alice. How are you?’ the doctor said flatly. Why people continued to ask her these questions baffled her. Silence continued to be her only answer yet they still kept trying.
‘I’ve been looking at your notes and I’m happy with your progress. The grafts are healing well and all the vital signs are looking stable.’ The doctor looked up from his clipboard and smiled. His weak attempt at positivity somehow felt more awkward than encouraging. ‘The next thing we need to do is build up your strength and mobility. You’ve been lying down for quite some time and we need to prevent any further muscle waste. That’s why we want you to move to the Moira Gladstone ward. It’s a rehabilitation facility based in this hospital. It’s one of the best in the country. You’ll have a physio plan put in place, they’ll continue to monitor the wounds, and when we know the extent of the scarring we can discuss other options.’
Nothing you do can give me what I had back.
‘The only thing we’re concerned about is …’
The fact I haven’t spoken in weeks or looked at my own face?
Alice enjoyed watching this man struggle to find the appropriate words.
‘… we don’t feel like you’ve made much progress on the path to accepting the accident. We need you to start communicating, Alice. If you’re going to get out of here, we have to be confident that you’ve accepted what’s happened and can make positive steps forward.’
Positive steps? Why don’t we swap places, doctor, and see how many positive steps you take.
She raised the corner of her mouth as a poor offer of acknowledgement.
‘Alice.’ He took a deep breath in and came a step closer to her. ‘There are other options for you, but first we have to let the skin heal more. This isn’t the end for you … I know it may feel like it now, but it isn’t.’ The doctor reached his hand out momentarily, then let it fall limply by his side. ‘In order to make you feel most comfortable, we will move you tomorrow night. Any questions, you know we’re here to answer them.’
*
Unfortunately it hadn’t been possible to transport her curtains along with the bed, but at least the darkness just about hid her face as she was wheeled along the corridors. The moment she arrived on the Moira Gladstone ward she sensed the change in energy. It was calmer. No rushing. No fear of immediate danger. People weren’t running on extreme adrenaline and caffeine twenty-four hours a day. As she rolled past the rows of beds, Alice could just about make out the picture frames, multicoloured bed throws and trinkets. It seemed that the people occupying this space were no longer patients, they were residents. That was another stark difference to the ICU; all of these people had been given the gift of time back. In theory, they weren’t going anywhere any time soon.
Alice was woken up the next morning by one of the nurses. This woman was big and bold and not afraid to confront the elephant in the room.
‘Morning, baby.’
Alice physically recoiled. She was definitely not this stranger’s baby. Alice Gunnersley was, in fact, no one’s baby.
‘I’m Nurse Angles and I’ll be overseeing your treatment while you’re here. I know you’re not comfortable talking, so whenever I ask you something all I need is a simple nod yes or shake no – can we at least manage that? Otherwise it’s going to be hard for me to make sure you’re comfortable.’
Maybe she could forgive the term of endearment if this nurse wasn’t going to try and force her to talk.
Alice nodded.
‘Wonderful. Well, welcome to the Moira Gladstone ward. Let’s do a quick change of your dressings and then we can discuss the treatment plan.’
Alice glared at Nurse Angles, keeping her arm just out of reach.
‘I know it’s uncomfortable but I will need to change the dressing.’
Uncomfortable? Just lying still was scarcely bearable. The itching of the skin as it tried to heal itself, knitting together with the foreign slabs of flesh they’d stitched on to her. Any movement, even breathing, would tug and pull at the skin, making her wince in pain. Sometimes it was a sharp pain, like a hundred knives slashing and tearing at her; other times it was a deep dull ache that would sit in her bones and weigh her down.
‘I need to make sure your dressings are clean, Alice.’ The nurse tentatively reached for her arm again. ‘Please.’
Reluctantly Alice allowed herself to be taken and tended to. She hated it when they did this. Not only did she have to feel the covering being peeled off her raw flesh, but it also meant she had to see the damage in all its glory. No hiding. No masking. A melting pot of skin and bone, fighting to heal but still falling short. Yet the exasperation in the nurse’s voice pulled at something inside her. She didn’t mean to cause a fuss, but she had gone too long without saying anything and it felt too hard to break the
silence now.
‘I’ve been given the handover from your doctor and there’s a lot we need to start doing to get you fit, healthy and out of here.’ Nurse Angles scanned the sheet of paper on her clipboard. ‘You’re off the oxygen now, which is great, wound care will remain pretty much the same, pain relief can start to be decreased slowly, and we’ll have to start physio.’ She squeezed herself into the chair next to Alice’s bed. ‘And that, honey, means you’re going to have to get yourself up and out of this bed.’
Fear drenched her like ice-cold water. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t get up. Alice started to shake her head furiously; adrenaline made her stomach churn and her fists clench tightly. Nurse Angles rested her hand on the bed.
‘It’s OK, Alice. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to panic you.’ Alice felt her breathing slow just a little; the weight of Nurse Angles’ hand next to her was having a calming effect. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but we do need to get you moving. You’ve been lying down for so long it’s important we build your strength up quickly. Let me speak to the physio and see what we can do, OK?’
Alice closed her eyes and drew a long deep breath into her lungs.
It’s OK. It’s going to be OK.
‘I’ll let you rest now, sweetie. Like I said, leave it with me and we’ll work something out.’
Just work out how you can stop this hell. Please.
8
Alfie
He knew his neighbour had arrived the moment he woke up. The curtains around the bay next to him were fully closed, and from inside he could hear the familiar sound of Nurse Angles running through her routine introduction. It was a rare occurrence to transfer people at night, so everyone on the ward knew the red carpet really was being rolled out. Alfie could see the familiar faces of the other patients craning their necks to try and sneak a glimpse, as Nurse Angles expertly extracted herself from the curtains without revealing an inch of what lay within.
‘Did you see her?’ Mr Peterson mouthed, waving at him from across the room.
Alfie shook his head; it was too early and he was too tired from a rather disturbed night’s sleep to respond properly. He tried to settle himself back down, longing for a few more hours of rest to help him get through the day. But just as he closed his eyes he heard it.
A cough. A ragged, heavy and painful cough coming from behind the tightly closed curtains.
He bit his tongue and resisted asking if everything was OK. The sound alone told him it was a no. The rest of the morning followed the same pattern. Silence punctuated by that excruciating cough, over and over again. It took Alfie a huge amount of self-control to stay quiet. It was in his nature to care; in fact, all Alfie ever wanted to do was help. That desire for good coupled with his uncanny ability to connect with people was the main reason why Alfie was so good at his job. ‘Those that can’t, teach’ everyone would joke. Fuck that, he always said. Those that can change lives, teach. But he had promised Nurse Angles to stay clear, and so he needed to be cautious.
For the rest of the day, Alfie did his best to distract himself. He managed to pass a good hour or two with his puzzle books, but it was hard not to get caught up in the hushed excitement that was mounting in the ward. The nurses would come and go, talking at her as they went, but still the lady behind the curtain said nothing. The other patients became so intrigued as to who the mysterious new guest was that they started to gather in small groups, whispering their suspicions and throwing wild guesses around like confetti.
‘Do you think she’s even in there?’ Jackie asked.
‘This isn’t some elaborate joke they’re playing on us! Of course she’s in there.’ Mr Peterson laughed dismissively.
‘I’m going to ask the nurses about her. The young ones always let slip things they shouldn’t.’ Sharon’s voice rose in excitement.
Alfie lay in his bed, half listening to the mutterings of his friends and half worrying that the lady next to him could hear them. Maybe she was asleep? Perhaps that would explain her silence.
‘Can we not just stand around here like lemons, please?’ One of the nurses strode through the ward. ‘Surely you have better things to do with your time?’
His friends shifted uncomfortably.
‘There is one thing we need to discuss,’ another of the younger, more enthusiastic nurses chimed in. ‘What film are we going to watch for movie night tonight?’
‘Pretty Woman!’
‘Oh, give it a rest, Sharon, you know you’re the only one who wants to watch that godawful film. Plus, it’s not exactly pro-feminism, is it?’ Mr Peterson said.
‘Stop being such a grumpy old git. Instead of moaning about everyone else’s choices, why don’t you suggest something?’
‘Yeah, Mr P, why don’t you pick something tonight?’ Alfie piped up, sitting a little taller in bed.
‘Ach no, I can’t be doing with all that decision making. Is Ruby coming in tonight, Jackie?’
‘Yeah, Mum and Dad are bringing her in after school. She should be here soon.’ Jackie checked her watch anxiously.
‘Well then, the decision is made for us, isn’t it?’ Mr Peterson said, looking around at the other patients.
‘Finding Dory it is!’ The younger nurse laughed.
‘I am going to be able to recite that film word for word by the time I leave this place,’ the old man grumbled, making his way slowly back to his bed.
‘Oh, come off it. You know you love it, even if it’s just to see the look on Rubes’s face when you tell her we’re watching it,’ Alfie called out to him.
Jackie and Ruby’s story had been one of the most tragic Alfie had come across during his time in hospital. Despite her only being a visitor, everyone on Moira Gladstone seemed to go out of their way to make the hospital feel like home for Ruby. Even the nurses didn’t mind creating more work for themselves if it meant making Ruby’s smile a little bigger. It took a certain kind of person to say no to a six-year-old girl whose dad had died from cancer a year ago and whose mum was currently in a rehabilitation unit, recovering from a stroke.
‘Hey, old man, while you’re up, do you fancy going for a stroll?’
‘Old man! The bloody cheek of it!’ Mr Peterson grumbled. ‘But fine, I could do with a muffin anyway, I’m starving.’
‘I’m not sure Agnes would agree with that. Aren’t you meant to be on a new health regime?’
Mr Peterson didn’t even bother to respond; the murderous glare was enough. Agnes was the love of his life, but apparently not even sixty-four years of marriage could keep the old man away from his cake.
‘Noted. No new health regime.’ Alfie chuckled to himself as he swapped his crutches for his prosthesis. He’d thought over time he’d get used to it, but even the sight of the plastic limb made him angry. It had hurt at first. So badly he’d cry out with every step. Hours and hours of ruthless physio had taught him well, but his walk was still marred by signs of discomfort. He was slow, uneven, and he’d often have to stop for breaks. His strength was up but by no means back to normal, plus his whole body had to constantly adjust and shift its weight to accommodate the new addition attached to him. He tried not to think about how he looked when he walked any more, instead choosing to focus on how lucky he was to have the privilege even to take a step.
As the two companions returned to the ward, steaming cups of sickly sweet hot chocolate and blueberry muffins in hand, they saw Sharon waiting for them at the entrance.
‘You won’t believe what I’ve just heard!’ Her green eyes were wide with excitement. The joy that gossip brought to this lady’s life was quite unbelievable.
Mr Peterson rolled his eyes. As much as he would try to deny it, Alfie knew he loved the snippets of information Sharon offered – he just didn’t like her to know that. ‘What is it this time?’
Sharon smirked. ‘It’s about that lady in bed thirteen. The mute one.’
‘She’s not mute, Sharon, she’s traumatized.’ Alfie sighed.
‘OK, well yo
u know what I mean. I heard that every time she gets up out of her bed we all have to stay hidden away in ours with the curtains closed. Can you believe it? It’s like a mini lockdown!’
‘Where on earth did you hear that?’ Alfie loved Sharon but he had to admit he didn’t always trust her.
‘I overheard the nurses talking about it just now. So, not only is she refusing to speak but she’s point blank refusing to let anyone see her. They didn’t sound best pleased. I’m not surprised though – who does this woman think she is!’ Sharon suddenly gasped so loudly that Alfie nearly gave himself whiplash looking behind him. ‘Maybe she’s royalty.’ Her eyes were now so wide they occupied half of her face.
‘Give over. What planet are you on?’ Mr Peterson looked genuinely hurt by her wild fantasy. ‘They wouldn’t send a member of the royal family to this place.’
‘You don’t know that for certain.’ Sharon folded her arms across her chest, clearly a little put out.
‘No, but I would bet the rest of my years left on this planet that she isn’t royalty.’ The old man turned to Alfie. ‘Find out what the hell is happening, will you? I can’t be dealing with all this fussing. Now come on, let’s get back inside. My drink’s getting cold.’
Alfie wasn’t filled with quite the same confidence, but he knew it couldn’t hurt to ask.
‘Fine, but I can’t promise you I’ll get anywhere. This patient might turn out to be the hospital’s best-kept secret.’
The three of them made their way back through the ward.
‘Agnes is visiting later, and I need to finish all this before she gets on at me again about my sugar levels.’ Mr Peterson took a giant swig from his cup. ‘In the meantime, kid, you’d better hurry up and get to work on uncovering this bloody mystery. If anyone is going to be able to get information out of Nurse Angles, it’s you.’
‘Yes, and the moment you find out anything, you’d better tell me!’ Sharon smiled sweetly, poking Alfie hard in the chest before making her way back to her bed.
Before I Saw You Page 3