“By the way, Alistair, your dad has been eating up a storm since he got here. Haven’t you fed him?”
“Mum, dad has had plenty to eat. We had a big breakfast. And furthermore, he’s not a puppy.”
“Speak for yourself. He’s my puppy. Aren’t you, George?”
“That’s right you love muffin.”
“Okay, that’s it. Dad come with me to the café. I've heard enough of this.”
“Honey, would you mind staying with mum while I bring back some food?” I asked Lee.
“Don’t bring back no food for me, son” mum interjected. They’ll be coming soon with my food tray at half past three.”
“How about you, love?” I asked Lee.
“No thanks. We’ll grab some fish and chips on the way home.” She answered.
“Then, I'll just get the old boy something to eat. Come on, stud muffin.” I joked.
---
Upon returning to mum’s room, Doctor Roland was checking her exposed chest.
“Oh sorry, mum. I didn’t know the doctor was here.” I did an about-face.
“Come on in. Don’t be silly. The doctor is just checking me over.” Mum winced in pain as Doctor Roland did a thorough check-up, prodding around her chest cavity.
“Well, you seem to be doing very well, Agatha. Your making quite a recovery. The soreness around your chest region is normal, so don’t be alarmed. Also don’t do too much or the stitches may come undone.”
“She’s not going to listen, doc’.” I quipped.
“Oh, be quiet, you.” she laughed.
Doctor Rowland’s walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“Now that you and dad scared the doctor off, how are you feeling?” I asked.
“I feel great, son. I’m just a little sore around my chest. Besides that, I feel quite well.” she turned to dad. “Oh, before we forget; George, did you tell Alistair and Lee?”
“Tell us what, mum?” I asked.
“Some woman called from your office, and said that you and Lee should call as soon as you get this message. It is very important.” Dad answered.
“When did you get the call?” I asked.
“That was just after breakfast, when you and Lee went off for your little stroll. Then another woman rang, saying she was calling from South Africa, and asked that you ring her back before the end of the day.”
“How did she get your number?” I was puzzled. “And, how would anybody know to contact me through you or mum?”
“Oh, she did say, son, that she had spoken with your secretary. Maybe she gave the woman our number.” Dad offered.
“No, Anne Marie would never do something like that. If she did, that would be the first.”
“Well son, you’d be surprised what a employee will do when they’re not given a raise. You old Scrooge.” He joked.
“I’m not a Scrooge.” I chuckled. My partners and I give our employees a raise every year, without fail.”
“He’s just joking with you, son.” Mum interjected. “Stop being so uptight about things. Just make the call.”
Lee and I left the hospital early so we could make the phone call in privacy.
---
Things were running smoothly at the office. Anne Marie gave me a quick rundown of messages from callers. Many of the callers wished my mother well and a speedy recovery. The last call got my attention, though. Anne Marie mentioned a young lady by the name of Mrs. LaGrange. She was calling on behalf of the South African president. At first, my wife and I thought it was a joke. But, when we called the number the woman on the other end of the phone made it quite clear this was no joke.
The president wanted to invite Lee and me to South Africa. He knew that my wife and I devoted our life to finding a cure for breast cancer, and he had learned of mum's hospitalization Mrs. LaGrange supplicated for a travel date, trying not to push too hard, though. She knew the family was under great stress, due to mum’s present situation. We assured Mrs. LaGrange by the end of the week, she would have an answer.
Through the wee hours of the morning, Lee and I researched as much as we possibly could on South Africa and how breast cancer was affecting women there. To our surprise, the deaths from breast cancer were plaguing 1 in 29 women. However, South African black women, especially rural dwellers, were at very low risk for breast cancer. These studies were taken from 1971 to 1982.
“Honey, what do you suppose the president wants us to do in South Africa?” Lee placed a hot teapot on the crochet doily.
“Well, honey it may be that there's been an increase in breast cancer deaths, and the president needs our advice on how to deal with the matter.”
“Okay, so why leave it for so long?”
“That may have to do with the fact that he's been in prison all these years. Also, no one has cared enough to follow up until now.”
“So, what do you suggest we do?” Lee asked.
“Just what we're doing now—gathering as much information as we can.”
“Should we take a team of doctors and nurses with us?”
“Yes, we're going to need their expertise.”
“Your eyes are red, honey. We've been at it all night. Let’s go to bed and pick back up, first thing in the morning.”
Before going to bed we washed up the dishes, then the phone began to ring. I picked up the phone. Mum was crying on the other end.
“Alistair, turn on the TV.”
“What’s wrong?” I said acting just as hysterical as mum.
“Turn on the TV, son, right now!”
I asked Lee to switch the TV on, since she was closer than I. Lee clicked the remote, and on the screen displayed the breaking news caption: PRINCESS DIANE HAS DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT. Lee and I dropped to the living room floor, perplexed, not wanting to absorb what we were hearing and seeing.
Princess Di was dead. The news reporter’s details seemed sketchy as to how the accident happened. So, Lee flicked through every station until the details started to make sense. Apparently, a paparazzi chase after Dodi Fayed led to the deadly crash.
Mum was still on the phone, as I tried to process the reality of how England would cope with the loss of a guardian angel taken from us too soon. Princess Di lived her life unselfishly, always devoting her time to those in need.
The tiredness that nagged at me before was now clouded with great sadness and sorrow. Lee held me as we both cried in the darkness of the living room. We eventually fell asleep on the settee, only to be awakened by the sound of a trumpet coming from the television, and the telephone ringing.
“Hello, who is it?” I answered groggily.
“It’s me, Hyacinth. I just learned of what happened to Princess Di.” Hyacinth tried to hold back her continued sniffling. “How is Lee?”
“She’s not doing well.” I exhaled. “What about you?”
“I’m feeling the same.” She continued. “It's funny how we all go through life making plans from one day to the next, without a care in the world. We think time is on our side. But, the truth of the matter is, we're not promised tomorrow. Only ignorance stops us from knowing this inevitable reality.”
“It’s hard to process that our princess is gone. How do we get through this as a country?” I sorrowfully inquired.
“We can only live one day at a time, Alistair.” Hyacinth cleared her throat. “Just like you mentioned many times before, nobody is promised tomorrow. We just have to be there for each other in this trying time. Somehow, some way, we will make it through this. Princess Diana would want you and Lee to continue your work in finding a cure for breast cancer. Never forget how she lived her life, always giving.”
“Thank you, Hyacinth for being a good friend.”
“Don’t mention it. You, Peter and Ronnie will always be my best friends. We’re family. We have to be there for each other, in good times and bad.” Hyacinth’s words were sincere. “Go take care of your mother, and I will see you all at the hospital later. Give Emma a kiss for me. Hold your head up, A
listair. Your friends are here for you and your wife.”
“Thanks, Hyacinth. Cheerio.”
There wasn’t a moment after that that the telephone did not ring.
---
Emma asked question after question, being the inquisitive little girl that she was. How does a parent explain death? What is the real truth? We live simply to die and go to a better place, or is this just a quick answer that brings more things into question? Nevertheless, Emma settled for the answer we gave her that day.
September 1, 1997
Mum needed to be heavily sedated from the night before. Dad told us she cried all night.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.
That’s the last thing we need son, you and Bradley rushing over here getting into an accident. Your mum's fine. She’s just a little upset.”
As young boys growing up in my parent’s household, we were raised to be patriots. We loved our country, and were proud British men. Thus, nothing bad could be said about the royal family in our presence.
A nurse entered the room. “Sorry for the intrusion. Is your wife awake, Mr. Scott?
“No, nurse. Dad answered. “She's still knocked out from those drugs the doctor gave her last night.”
“That’s good. She needed to rest. Her blood pressure was very high.” The nurse’s words were gentle. “I’ll check her blood pressure when she wakes up.” The nurse disappeared behind the door.
“What’s all this fuss for?” Mum managed to mutter from her weary-sounding, dry voice.
“Would you like some water, Mum?” Lee asked, quickly pouring cold water into a cup from a jug on the table next to the bed.
Mum drank two cups of water to relieve her from the feeling of desert mouth. “How long have you been here?” mom asked. “Where is Bradley?”
“I don’t know, mum. The last time we spoke was ten o’clock this morning. He and Debbie needed to take care of something. They will drop by as soon as possible.”
No sooner than finishing the sentence, Bradley showed up with Debbie. “Hi, mum. How are you feeling?”
“Not too good, son. I cannot process the fact our Princess Di is gone in such a horrific way.
“Don’t upset yourself anymore, ole girl.” Dad sometimes called mum.
“Is there anymore news? What has the queen said? What about her boys?” Mom rattled off questions.
“Slow down. You’re going to get yourself upset again. The doctor will have to come in and give you another injection.” Dad warned.
“Dad’s right, mum. Brad and I are here. That’s the important thing right now.
For the most part of the day, we sat with mum in her room, watching the news every hour on the hour. People in England were kept in the dark about how the royal family was dealing with the lost of the princess.
September 6, 1997
Sadness and mourning filled the streets of England. Princess Diana was taken to Althorp, her resting place, where she once lived with Prince Charles and her two young sons. We watched as the gates closed the Queen, Prince Charles, the two young princes, Diana’s siblings, her mother and clergymen were present during the actual burial.
Diana, you were a person who lived selflessly. Your presence gave life to those who could not find strength to go on. With every smile and kind word, you gave so much to so many, in such a small amount of time. We thank you, England’s English Rose.
October 1997
AI One took off again to the motherland, South Africa. It was a seventeen hour and ten minute flight, abroad an aircraft filled with volunteer medical staff, their families and screaming young children. Emma sat beside her friend Ellen, Anne Marie's daughter. Anne Marie wasn’t one for traveling much. She’d never left the United States. It took some serious coaxing to get her to except our offer to come on this trip with her daughter. Ellen, on the other hand, was very excited about riding on a jumbo jet to another country.
For hours, Lee and Anne Marie talked, while I managed to catch up on some reading from my favorite author, Nelson DeMille. Each passing minute ticked by slower than the first. The cheese and onion sandwich from earlier were a quick fix to my already rumbling stomach.
“Honey, was that your stomach?”
“Yep, I'm hungry.”
“You ate just a short while ago.”
“That was this morning. Now, it's one in the afternoon.”
Oh my goodness, Emma must be hungry also. Let me see when lunch will be served.”
The sound of clattering jolted my attention swiftly in the direction of the curtain behind me. A stewardess appeared from behind the sapphire-colored curtain, wheeling a sliver cart. Seconds later, a similar noise came from the other side. The delightful smell of cooked food emerged from the number of items on the cart.
---
The fasten seat belt sign lit up, as we slowly descended below the clouds. The closer we got to the ground, the heat rose from the hot runway. AI One landed with the finesse of an eagle.
Crackling came from the speakers above our head. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Please stay in your seats. We are waiting for permission to taxi into a gate.” He suddenly paused. “Oh, it seems as if one has opened up. Please sit back and keep your seatbelts on until we stop. Thank you for flying with us on AI One. Have a great time in South Africa.”
Customs was a breeze. The president’s aide gave us the okay. We weren’t to be held up and checked at customs. The people of South Africa were very pleasant and accommodating. We walked through a revolving door marked EXIT that led outside to the busy Tambo International Airport.
“Mr. Scott, your wife and daughter can come with me. The medical staff will travel on the bus to the hotel.” said the driver.
“There’s one small problem, I would like my aide to ride with us.” I remarked.
“That is not an issue, Mr. Scott. Come, the limo awaits.”
Driving through the small shantytowns in South Africa made me realize how fortunate most of us are. Makeshift homes, assembled from rusted corrugated metal, painted two or three different colors, stood out. Homeowners sat on the front step, watching the black limo pass by. I felt wrong profiling in a car that cost more than what most of them would ever experience in a lifetime.
Young boys played football in the streets, while the girls skipped double-dutch. One boy stood staring at the unhurried limo passing. This caused the lanky kid to miss defending the goal, which earned him a good cussing from his teammates.
“What’s on your mind?” Lee probed.
“Look at how content the kids of South Africa seem to be, while having very little. A simple game of football or jumping rope keeps them happy. Even with the freedom to run around, kids back home don’t think having a cell phone, computer and brand name clothes are enough. The more they have, the more they want.”
I couldn’t help but think of a song Bob Marley sang and wrote before he died, Natural Mystic. This verse stood out: many more will have to suffer many more will have to die don’t ask me why.
I suddenly understood why Lee never wanted Emma to have everything she asked for. She would always say it would warp Emma's sense of values. Seeing these children helped me appreciate what my wife was saying all along. It takes little things like this for us to accept and understand lessons in life. Making Emma do without from time to time did not make us bad parents. Our family never lacked love.
Slowly the limo came to a stop several feet away from the hotel entrance, as other taxicabs and limo's dropped off vacationers. People traveled more this time of year to South Africa.
“We tried to get a less active hotel, but this one has a magnificent panorama.” Zelda, the president’s aide, pointed out.
“Daddy, mummy, look there's a swimming pool. Can we go swimming, can we, can we?” Emma begged.
“You see, someone likes the view already.” Zelda said. “Please give me a few minutes to make sure the hotel has everything in satisfactory order.” The young woman picked
up her briefcase, retrieving several documents before leaving the limo.
In military fashion, bellboys picked up each suitcase, and stood at attention until an older man, wearing a grey single-breasted suit motioned them inside. In a matter of minutes, Zelda returned.
“Sorry for the long wait. Even with diplomatic credentials, one still finds it hard to get good service.” She sighed. “These are your keys to your rooms.” Zelda handed out electronic key cards to me and Anne Marie. “Before we depart, lets quickly run through the schedule for the days ahead.”
Using her requisite knowledge, Zelda tried her best not to hold us up any longer than needed. Emma and Ellen gave little thought to what was going on. Their attention seemed to be elsewhere. Overcome with excitement, the girls hurried out of the limo before the driver could fully open the door. Lee and Ann Marie shouted frantically after them, not wanting the girls to get hurt or lost among the crowd.
The Fourth Day of November Page 17