The Afterlife of Alice Watkins 1

by Matilda Scotney

  “Can’t see too well,” he told her when it first happened, his voice slurred and tired. “Like someone’s tied me up in blankets.”

  Can’t see and tied up in blankets? Although she had little imagination for imagery, this must have been what it was like for Ted and that could only mean one thing; the same thing had happened to her, and she was going through what he had gone through. A stroke. It would be the only explanation, but Ted died, leaving Alice a widow at 57 years old. She wasn’t ready to die, and she didn’t want a stroke. She tried to cry out, to call for help but her motionless body thwarted all her attempts to attract attention.

  “I’ve had a stroke and I’m in St Marys Hospital.” Alice tried hard to say it aloud, but no sound came, just a jumbled rattle of words that crashed about in her throat. She thought of Michelle and Eliza’s worry when they came to collect her for the day spa, they would have found her unconscious in the chair and would be dreadfully upset, only, Alice didn’t remember them arriving, just her chin hairs, sitting with the cat, the noisy branch and then, here.

  Ted had been looked after at St Mary’s Hospital during his illness, and knowing she was there too, steadied her a little, giving her much needed comfort. She would have good care here and she must place herself in their hands, then she would get better. It wasn’t their fault Ted died.

  But Alice didn’t remember having a headache or tiredness like Ted suffered in the weeks leading to his stroke. It must have been sudden because now, she couldn’t move a muscle and there had been no warning signs.

  There was no way of Alice knowing how long she waited before a figure came into view. A figure with a kind, smiling, blurry face. The figure leaned over and spoke, but the sound of the person’s voice made Alice’s ears ring; a ringing when she breathed in and a different ring when she breathed out. She tried focusing again, but it was all so noisy and difficult and frightening. Alice felt pressure on her arm, reassuring pressure, the kind person was trying to help, but the confusion lingered.

  “Don’t try to speak.” Alice battled to make out the words that combined with the ringing. It was a pleasant voice, a woman’s voice, confirming to Alice that she must be in St Mary’s because everyone was nice there.

  But even a simple soul needs answers and Alice wanted to know what had happened. And she wanted Michelle. Sammy had been placed on a special diet by the vet only the day before and she planned to tell her about it on the way to the day spa. Now, she would be looking after Sammy and might give him the wrong things to eat. He only had the one tooth, so his food needed to be soft.

  Alice tried once more to rouse herself but there was no point, her arms and legs remained limp and useless. She was locked into her body and she was frightened, her fear causing a solitary tear to roll down her cheek, a tear seen by the kind lady in the room who very gently wiped it away.

  As the kind lady dried her tear, a man appeared at the side of the bed, his face came close to Alice. He smiled and looked into her eyes, lifting her eyelids like she’d seen the doctors do to Ted. She peered up at the man, trying to make out his face, hoping her eyes would communicate her fear. If he was a doctor, he would know why she was here, but when she tried to ask, she only managed a few grunts and some aimless twitching of her arms and that awful ringing sound when the man spoke. Bewildered and exhausted, she gave up, and the man placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Try not to struggle,” he said, but his voice was indistinct because of the ringing and she found it hard to make out what he was saying. “You are still uncoordinated. It will take a little time before you learn to use your senses again.”

  Alice was aware of the touch of his hand and the lady who touched her arm, that was a good sign, wasn’t it? But without warning, a sudden coolness swept over her body and as the man and woman drifted away, she glimpsed a third person; a pale, white-haired young man, gazing at her over the doctor’s shoulder.

  Alice always slept well. Her mother always said she could sleep on the edge of a razor blade, and this place was no different.

  When she woke again, in what she assumed was the next morning, her vision had improved enough to question if it was morning at all, because no sunshine came into the room. Ted’s room at the hospital had been bright and sunny and even had a view of the gardens from his window. Maybe this was intensive care? Though it didn’t seem as if there were other patients or lots of machines.

  Michelle would have been in to visit and Steven might even be on his way from the oil rig—Michelle would have told her brother about the stroke and by now, she would also have found the new diet food for Sammy in the cupboard under the sink.

  With her improved vision, Alice established she was not alone. A tall woman with clear, olive skin, dark hair and wearing a blue dress stood in front of a desk. She looked neat and efficient and Alice thought she might be a hospital cleaner or orderly because lots of them came from overseas, Philippines or Spain or somewhere—she didn’t know, but often, their English wasn’t very good. Alice tried to speak, but her voice was weak and distant, and it took a supreme effort to get any sound out, having to employ her whole body in forming the words, with even her bottom cheeks getting involved. Every word she spoke got squeezed out from heaven knows where, but with uncharacteristic perseverance, she attracted the woman’s attention.

  “Can you get the nurse, please?”

  Her voice, a low, hoarse whisper, sounded hollow and clattering to Alice and the short sentence took an eternity to produce, but the woman came close and listened patiently, from Alice’s first squeaky syllable right through to the equally squeaky conclusion. She placed her ear close to Alice’s mouth and Alice realised it was the same kind face she’d seen before. She was happy to see the face again and grateful for the woman’s patience while she stumbled and stammered through her words. When she finished, the woman smiled.

  “I’m your appointed carer, you can call me Kelly,” the woman told her. Alice liked her smile. “I’ll provide anything you need or want and be with you at all times.” She patted Alice’s hand, sending pins and needles shooting along her arm. The woman’s voice was educated and unaccented, but Appointed Carer meant nothing to Alice. Nurse would have made far more sense.

  “Are you a nurse?” Alice squeezed out more words.

  She thought she had spoken clearly but her raspy, hollow speech must be garbled from the stroke as Kelly appeared not to understand.

  “I care for you, your health, well-being and rehabilitation,” Kelly spoke slowly and distinctly, so her patient would understand.

  Alice tried the question again, what she said, despite its raspiness, sounded OK to her. Perhaps the woman didn’t understand English as well as she spoke it.

  “Am I in St Mary’s Hospital?”

  The lady in blue, Kelly, shook her head and took Alice’s hand.

  “I know you have many questions. Dr Grossmith will answer them for you, but you’ve been here a long time and it might be a while before you make sense of your surroundings.”

  A long time? Alice heard her, but it made no sense. If she’d been in hospital a long time, she would have known. It begged the scratchy-sounding, bottom-clenching, difficult to produce question. Two questions.

  “How long? And where are Michelle and Eliza?”

  Kelly shook her head again, to show she didn’t understand.

  Alice remembered a story in a magazine at the hairdressers, about a woman in a coma who woke up speaking French. She hadn’t believed it, but this Kelly didn’t understand even simple questions. Alice knew Michelle was a French name, so this lady would at least understand that, but she didn’t, instead, Alice saw her reach above the bed, then she gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “I’ve called Dr Grossmith for you, he’s far better equipped for questions than I am.”

  Yes, perhaps the doctor would understand. With a closer look and better eyesight, Alice saw that Kelly was young and slim with large brown eyes set underneath immaculate, arched eyebrows. She
had a flawless complexion and there was not a single hair out of place. With an air of efficiency and dedication, something in her demeanour suggested to Alice she took that efficiency and dedication to a higher level than even the kind nurses at St Mary’s Hospital.

  So, with no answers, no imagination and little education, and waiting for Dr Grossmith, Alice formulated a different idea, not a stroke but an accident in that far-too-large car that Michelle drove. She couldn't remember an accident, though she had heard sometimes, people wipe out the memory of such things. If so, Michelle and Eliza would have been in the car too, Michelle was 8 months pregnant, the baby due in December. Dear God, where were they?

  Chapter Three

  Dr Grossmith arrived around the time Alice worked out the new reason for being in intensive care, the stroke idea now abandoned. Sitting beside her on the bed, Dr Grossmith smiled and patted her hand, just like Kelly did, sending the same pins and needles cascading up and down her arm. Alice recalled the doctors and nurses patting Ted’s hand; sometimes, it meant bad news, but not this time.

  “Good morning! It’s good to see you wide awake! I can finally introduce myself to you. I’m Dr Grossmith and I understand you are asking questions?” his smile was so enormous, Alice thought he was going to hug her! She had a good view of him now, older, white hair, grey eyes. Tall for a man of his age and dressed in a grey uniform.

  “Now,” he continued, “I will try to answer your questions. Take your time.” He had a kind voice, and he seemed so pleased to see her, he couldn’t stop grinning. Alice attempted to smile back.

  “Good, good! Facial muscles working well, now you must work hard to recover your memories; that will take some rehabilitation, my dear. Only baby steps for now.”

  “Where are Michelle and Eliza?” Alice spoke slowly and as Kelly had before, the doctor waited for her to gather the words.

  When she finished, Kelly and Dr Grossmith looked at each other. This time, there could be no doubt they understood. Alice was positive she wasn’t speaking French. She didn’t know any French words anyway, except for Michelle.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr Grossmith said. “I’m not aware of either Michelle or Eliza—you are the only one.”

  “The only one?” What did that mean? The only one of what? The only one who survived? It couldn’t be! Alice wouldn’t believe it. She wanted to gag from sheer terror but had to control the alarm and get answers!

  “Michelle is my daughter,” her voice came out strained and hesitant, each word formed with painstaking effort, an effort that demanded rest after every one or two words, but Alice needed to know what had happened. Thankfully, her audience was patient and respectful.

  “She’s 8 months pregnant and Eliza is my granddaughter, she’s 16. Were they in the accident? Did they go to a different hospital?”

  Dr Grossmith’s brow creased into a concerned frown and he glanced at Kelly, who made a small movement of her shoulders, to show she didn’t understand either. The doctor shook his head and stroked his chin. Alice had seen doctors on the TV do this when considering a diagnosis but when he next spoke, he avoided answering the question.

  “Your memory processes need to settle down a little more, my dear, this isn’t a hospital, but a specialised facility. There’s nothing wrong with you now. You had several tumours and an aneurysm but there is no evidence you’ve been involved in any accident.”

  Alice didn’t wish to question her betters, but all this felt wrong.

  “You understand me, don’t you?” her voice plaintive and shaky with tears. Why couldn’t they answer her questions? They were just confusing her even more. It was as if they should be saying all this to someone else.

  Dr Grossmith nodded. “Yes, my dear, every word, you speak very well, considering.”

  They watched her confusion, trying to get answers, make sense of the situation. How lonely and frightening this must be, to have been through so much with still so much of the unknown ahead. Her first words perplexed them both. It would be natural for her to question her surroundings, but to ask for specific people and not to have any memories they could verify was unexpected, but with no precedence, no criteria against which to compare, they had no choice but to follow their instincts. This woman, this situation, was unique.

  Too weak to sob, Alice felt the tears running down her face. Kelly took Dr Grossmith’s place and sat on the bed to comfort her, massaging her hands until the pins and needles and tears settled. Dr Grossmith stepped back to allow Kelly to soothe her.

  “Early days.” Dr Grossmith whispered to Kelly, then smiled at Alice as he made to leave the room. Kelly responded with a nod, looked at Alice then back to him.

  “I’ll look after her.”

  But Alice didn’t see the exchange because she’d dwindled back into familiar confusion. Not a cell in her body wasn’t caught up in the turmoil and she changed her mind again about what had put her here, not a stroke nor a coma but still in her chair, with Sammy, waiting for Michelle and Eliza, dozing and having a fantastic dream.

  Alice knew sometimes people woke up in dreams, she once read it in a magazine at the hairdressers. That must be it. It all made such sense now. She hadn’t been ill; this must all be a vivid dream. Grateful for the comfort this realisation gave her, she relaxed and enjoyed the gentle massage, glad the explanation was so simple. Now, it was only a matter of waiting until she woke properly. She allowed herself to drift, secure in the knowledge she would wake in her chair, go to the day spa and have her chin hairs and armpits waxed—no, not her armpits, and definitely not the other unmentionable place. She decided she would keep her knickers on, regardless.

  To her dismay, there was no morning sun when she woke. Still trapped in the dream, she had no more control over her body than earlier, she felt vulnerable here, with people who said things she didn’t understand.

  Alice knew dreaming time differed from waking time, so a long time might only be moments and she tried to take comfort from that, plus the fact that now her vision had cleared, she could see better than she ever could when she was awake in her real life. As a bonus, she could swivel her head a little to inspect her room.

  It was an odd room, with walls made of smooth glass she couldn’t see through. There were no corners to speak of and in one place, part of the wall curved inwards, like an inside-out bubble. She had difficulty inclining her head around fully because of the stiffness, but there weren’t any tables or pictures or windows she could see. Kelly, who always managed to be there when Alice was ‘awake’, was working at a big glass panel. She turned to see Alice watching her.

  “Hello, sleepyhead,” she said, seating herself beside Alice and fiddling with a few shiny objects on a table near the head of the bed. “How are you this morning?”

  Alice thought she nodded, but she wasn’t sure; whatever the action, Kelly grinned and helped her to sit up.

  “I’ve tied all this up out of the way,” she said, reaching over to smooth Alice’s hair. “It’s grown long, way past your waist! We can sort it out when you are up and about.”

  Alice had never been allowed long hair. Her mother insisted on it being short, so she didn’t get lice, but she always longed for long, black swingy hair. In her dream, it would seem she had given herself her wish.

  Dr Grossmith’s face appeared behind Kelly, breaking into a broad grin at seeing Alice sitting up in bed.

  “Well, how is our patient today?” he took Kelly’s place beside Alice.

  “More relaxed, Dr Grossmith,” Kelly looked to Alice for confirmation and Alice nodded a little. Happy with that, Kelly went off to busy herself, although just where, Alice couldn’t see but she took the opportunity to ask questions of Dr Grossmith.

  “I would like to know where I am, Doctor, and why but I don’t want to hold you up,” Alice heard her voice gathering strength. “I’m sure you’re very busy.” Yes, her voice was clearer, and she took far less time to say what she wanted.

  “You’re not holding me up at all!” Dr Grossm
ith leaned a little closer and whispered. “You are my favourite patient!” Then he sat up again with a grin, hoping he had reassured her about bothering him. He had, but she was still waiting for him to answer the question.

  “As to where you are, this place, my dear, as we said a few days ago…”

  “a few days ago?” Alice echoed, flummoxed—dreams don’t go on for ‘a few days’. She was only snoozing in a chair—she can’t possibly be still dreaming.

  “Ah! I can see the time difference is puzzling,” Dr Grossmith crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knee.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting you, doctor,” Alice said, quick to apologise, “but you said, ‘a few days ago,’ yet it seems like only yesterday you were last here.”

  He nodded. Speak in simple terms to her. Baby steps for him too, he thought as he reminded himself of her specialness. She had no equivalent in the known universe. She was the unknown.

  “Well, it’s true you sleep for extended periods, but these are becoming shorter and soon, I’m confident you will be back into a more natural rhythm. We believe it to be an after-effect of your suspension, but as your situation is unparalleled, it’s all supposition. With respect to why you are here, when you woke from stasis, most of the medical issues we expected were somehow resolved.”

  He waited, in the hope his words might prompt a reaction but when none was forthcoming, he continued. “We undertook several procedures to restore you to full health and as time passed, you became less dependent on life support, but you didn’t recover as anticipated and your body gave no clues on how we should proceed. We had no choice but to monitor and observe and hope and pray we were doing the right thing.”