by Nem Rowan
The gate was hanging from its hinges so had been propped open with several bricks, and I was careful not to get caught on it or the reaching branches of thorny brambles. A trampled path through the long grass showed me the way; it seemed the front entrance hadn’t been used in quite a while, and instead I headed towards the side of the house, squeezing between enormous stacks of what looked like machine engines and gardening equipment, all rusting to pieces.
“David?” I called, but the rain dulled my voice.
A bramble snagged my umbrella, forcing me to untangle the material from the grabbing thorns, and that’s when I heard a high-pitched yapping from close by. I peered along the narrow passage and spotted a small dog—a Shetland sheepdog—amongst the mounds of junk. She was barking at me, her long merle and white fur drenched by the rain, causing her to look rather like a drowned rat.
“Hey, it’s alright, doggy. Don’t be afraid.” I crouched slightly, lowering my voice so as not to seem as frightening to the little animal. “Where’s David? Where’s your papa?”
The dog observed me with her round black eyes, a shiver running through her wet body before she suddenly darted off. I struggled after her, muttering to myself as my umbrella got caught again, then my trouser leg got captured by something else. Finally, I made it into the back garden; I say “garden” in rather loose terms as it was more like a junkyard. The only way I could tell where the property ended was because of the towering fronds of the gigantic hedge growth that fringed it.
Faded plastic buckets dotted here and there were half-filled with murky water, the rain splashing on each surface and creating deep puddles in the muddy ground. The rear of the house was just as rundown as the front, windows boarded up with pallets and cracks running through the brickwork. I spotted an open door through a gap in the debris and had to climb through to reach it, discovering the dog waiting on the tiled doorstep for me. She barked when she saw me and vanished into the house. I noticed a considerable amount of dog faeces, creating a minefield on the mossy concrete that surrounded the entrance so I had to watch where I stepped.
“David! Are you there? It’s me, Tristen!,” I called in the hope that I wouldn’t alarm him by suddenly appearing inside his home. I heard the dog barking again close by.
I stopped in my tracks as soon as I set foot in the doorway, my mouth opening in amazement at the state of the room before me. Like the outside, the inside was equally as crammed with stuff, so full, in fact, that there was about two feet of clear floor space, which it seemed remained only because it was used as a path to get to the exit. If there was another door leading from this room to the rest of the house, I couldn’t see it for the boxes and piles and stacks of things. A makeshift bed constructed out of grubby beanbags and a holey sleeping bag lay on the ground beneath a looming hillside of newspapers and empty milk flagons as floating curtains of cobweb decorated the ceiling and clung to the long-dead light fitting above.
Rows of computer towers in all manners of completion lined one half of the room, spilling ribbons and wires from openings in their manila cases, tangled with mouse cables and keyboards and other things. In the centre of the room, a huge cabinet lay tipped over and dozens of china ornaments were scattered across the rubbish-cluttered floor, some of them broken, the empty eyes of porcelain dandies and prancing horses staring into space. A vase that had held the bouquet of flowers I’d sent was also smashed to pieces, the wilted plants slumped in a sagging pile.
The dog was standing between me and the fallen cabinet, panting heavily and making hesitant little wags with her tail. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking at until I heard a murmuring sound coming from somewhere near.
“David?” I turned, looking this way and that for some hidden pigeonhole where he might have been hiding.
The dog started to whine. Something at my feet trembled, and as horror began to seep into my mind and adrenaline began to pour into my chest, I realised I wasn’t alone after all. I dropped down, chucking aside my umbrella so I could peer into the gap beneath the gargantuan wooden dresser.
“Oh, my God…David! Are you okay?” I cried when I saw his eyes staring back at me from under there. I could barely see anything in the dimness, but saw no light switch in reach, and even if there had been, the bulb hanging above looked like it hadn’t been used for decades. I fumbled for my mobile phone and used its built-in torch, kneeling so I could shine it on him.
“David, can you hear me? Can you speak?” I questioned, but all he managed to do was mumble something unintelligible. He looked dazed and his eyes were vacant. I shoved my phone into my pocket and got up, knowing I had to get him out of there right away.
“Hold on, I’m gonna try and move the cabinet, okay? Hold on for me,” I told him confidently, trying to hide the unbearable fear now causing my hands to shake.
I took hold of the edge of the furniture, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to lift it, but its sheer weight was unbelievable. Every muscle in my body strained to make it rise, my shoulders bunching and my back clenching until pain began to flare in my injured arm socket, flashing white like coal fed into a blacksmith’s forge. Wheezing, I slowly lowered it, cringing at the knowledge that I was relinquishing the weight to rest upon him again. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and I wiped them away angrily, enraged at myself for being too weak to rescue him. The dog was circling me, her tail hanging as she whimpered and looked on helplessly. How long had they been waiting for someone to come and find them?
I knelt again, feeling plastic crack under my knees, but I didn’t care. “I can’t lift it. It’s too heavy and I’ve got an injured shoulder. I’m gonna phone emergency services, okay?”
David breathed something inaudible but he made eye contact. A stifled sob fought its way out of my throat and I reached under the dresser to search for his hand but I couldn’t find it, resorting to gently stroking his cheek with my outstretched fingertips. His skin was cool and clammy and that scared me. I took out my phone again and called for an ambulance, panicking as I explained the situation to the operator, and she assured me that help was on its way. She tried to advise me on what I could do to help in the meantime, but with him trapped and out of reach, I was forced to sit and wait. I knelt again so David could see my face, but his eyes had closed; if it weren’t for the almost soundless motion of his breathing, he might have looked dead.
“Good thing I came by when I did,” I managed to mumble, attempting to chuckle in a bid to push back the uncontrollable desire to cry. “They’re on their way. Don’t worry. They’ll pull this thing off you and take you to hospital. You’re gonna be alright.”
David didn’t answer. His eyelids parted slightly and closed again. I just wanted to hear his voice, to hear him say something, anything at all, if it would reassure me that he was doing fine. I wished Gerard was here with me to help; I knew we would be able to lift it if we tried together. Just like the dog, I couldn’t stop shaking. To busy myself, I searched for something I could use to dry it off since its fur was completely sodden, eventually discovering an old towel. The dog was very friendly and seemed to have accepted my presence almost immediately, so she didn’t try to escape when I wrapped her in the towel and gave her a gentle onceover. Time passed so slowly, no matter how I tried to keep calm, no matter how I talked to David, telling him help was coming, telling him the ambulance would be here at any second. I was gravely worried that he wouldn’t make it; what kind of injuries did he have? Was it making it hard to breathe and that’s why he couldn’t say anything?
The dog leaped off my lap and started to bark hysterically, startling me into getting to my feet. That’s when I heard voices approaching. Finally, a group of paramedics had arrived.
“He’s in here! Please help, he’s trapped,” I shouted as I ran to the door, almost tripping over the rubbish that covered the ground.
Four of them, three men and a woman in dark green uniforms, had surprised expressions on their faces as they observed their surroundings, but t
hey didn’t say anything about it, instead greeting me and climbing in towards the doorway where I waited. The dog continued to bark frantically so I picked her up to keep her away from them, stepping towards the doorway and watching as they worked. I wanted so badly to help but my shoulder was already in agony, so I was forced to look on, my throat growing tight and my eyes wet with tears as they used a jack to lift the heavy furniture a fraction. They talked to him coaxingly, explaining what they needed to do.
“How long has he been here, do you know?” the blue-eyed nurse asked me as she cleared a space to put down her equipment.
“I-I don’t know. A couple of days maybe. I’ve been trying to reach him for a couple of days, but we hadn’t spoken for a while prior to that,” I told her whilst feeling what I was able to provide was relatively useless.
“You did the right thing not to move the dresser.”
“Oh, I didn’t move it only because I couldn’t lift it. Should I have left it where it was?”
She nodded, her eyes opening wide. “Oh, yes, if he’s been trapped this way for such a long time, he could have something called Crush Syndrome. It’s very serious, and very important that he’s not freed straight away.”
“Is it alright if you wait outside, my friend? There’s not a lot of room in here to move about,” the tall black paramedic asked as he clasped my shoulder in a surgical-gloved hand. The shoulders and the top of his bald head were wet from the rain.
“Of course, I’ll wait by the door,” I agreed, though I was reluctant to let David out of my sight.
I collected my umbrella and stepped outside, still holding onto the dog out of fear that she would run away. I craved a cigarette to try and take the edge off my anxiety, but I remembered I had thrown them away at the party, so instead, I took deep breaths of fresh air and focused on staying calm. Anxiously, I hovered by the doorway, peering in as far as would let me keep David in view without getting in the way of the medics.
One of the other men was speaking to David, bending forward so he could peer beneath the cabinet. The process of rescuing David was a long one; bit by bit, the furniture was lifted, inch by inch as time passed and oxygen was provided, intravenous liquids were administered, and his heart was monitored. When the cabinet was finally clear of putting pressure on his body, it was tipped against the wall, at last revealing David’s crumpled body beneath, dressed in faded plaid pyjamas and bed-socks. Laying on his back, he looked so pale and fragile. He didn’t even have the strength to get up now that he was free; when the paramedics moved him onto a stretcher, all he could do was utter a plaintive whisper in response. Even as they were doing this, the dresser began to list forward, prompting one of the men to slam it back against the wall. It looked as though the front feet had broken away, so David had been propping it up with a plank, and somehow it had slipped and come free, allowing the thing to collapse on top of him.
I rushed to his side as they prepared him for his journey, kneeling so I could hold his hand. It was freezing cold to touch and didn’t grip back as I squeezed it in my palm, so I rubbed it furiously in a bid to warm it. He didn’t speak, but gazed at me, and I thought I saw his mouth turn at the corners into a muted smile. That’s when I noticed he was still wearing the collar I had given him. One of the medics removed it and put it to one side, but he didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t want to leave David on his own but I had the responsibility of caring for his dog, so instead I saw the ambulance off, relieved in the knowledge that he was going to hospital where he would be safe and cared for until I could catch up. When I went back to the house, the dog was pacing and whining, clearly distressed that her parent had been taken away.
“Don’t worry—” I checked the tag on her collar “—Snaffle. Everything’s going to be alright.”
She eyed me, tilting her tiny head at the sound of my words, and for a brief moment, I believed she understood me. I searched the cramped space for dog food and a leash until I came upon a carrier bag full of tins, but Snaffle’s plastic food bowl had been chewed to pieces, no doubt because she had been looking for something to eat. I grabbed a breakfast bowl being used to store a jumble of key-rings used that instead.
After Snaffle had eaten and drank the water I also provided her, I took her to my car, knowing she’d be safe inside it while I went to find David at the hospital.
Chapter 11
It was only as we were leaving David’s empty home that the tears really hit me. I don’t know how I managed to drive. My whole body was shaking and my eyes were bleary as the tears streamed down my cheeks and my ribs ached with every restrained sob. Snaffle sat in the passenger seat, her head tilting to every sound I made as if alarmed by what she was witnessing. I remembered my thoughts from several nights ago, how every decision I had made had resulted in something negative, and here again I felt as if my decision to turn David away had had the terrible consequence of what I had discovered today. If I could have returned to that moment where we had met on the city centre, I would have. I wished I could take back what I had said. The paradox within me of loving and fearing him at the same time left me confused about what I needed to do next. All I knew for certain was that I had to be there for him. He needed help and I was willing to give it wholeheartedly, even if he had been the one to have threatened me.
The hospital car-park was busy and I drove around in circles for some time, searching for a space, and when I found an empty one, I pulled up and turned off the engine. Breathing heavily, I took a moment to wipe my face with some tissue and inspect my puffy eyes and reddened cheeks in the sun-visor mirror. It was obvious I had been crying but I didn’t care; no one was going to judge me for it. Snaffle began to climb over me. It was quite cool in the car so I knew she would be alright to be left here, and if she decided to go to the toilet on the seats, then I would clean it up later. As a precaution, I took my gym towels out of the boot and spread them across the seats, just in case.
* * * *
David had been placed in a ward with other patients, and it took me some time to find my way to him. Rows of beds lined either side of the long room, many of the patients opting to pull the curtains halfway to separate themselves from their neighbours and provide some much-needed privacy. When I entered the ward, an elderly nurse approached; it was almost as if she was expecting me. She met me near the door, a tray bearing a jug of water and a glass in her gloved hands.
“I’m looking for David Ormerod? I was told he’d be in this ward?”
“Follow me, I’ll take you to him. Are you family?” She gestured with a nod of her head that I should come with her.
“No, I’m a friend,” I confessed, terrified I would be ejected from the ward because I wasn’t his next of kin.
“He’s quite drowsy at the moment, but don’t worry, he’s doing alright. We’re monitoring him very closely,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder.
She brought me to a bay at the other end of the ward. I found David lying on his back, the watery sunlight reaching for him past the hurrying rain as it found its way to the window at his side. The nurse and I stopped at the foot of his bed, and I felt a lump swelling in my throat, silently choking me as I struggled to keep myself under control.
“David? There’s a friend here to see you,” the nurse spoke in a hushed voice. “Can you hear me, sweetie? Your friend is here.”
The muscles in my chest and throat became so taut, I could barely breathe as his eyelids fluttered and opened a fraction but his pupils seemed not to focus on anything, not even me.
“As I said, very drowsy,” she whispered to me. “You can pull the curtain ‘round if you need privacy Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be around.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking at my toes as she bustled past me to return to her duties.
I sighed and wiped my moist nose in my sleeve, deciding that privacy was something the both of us would need, so I drew the curtain shut, enclosing the small space David’s bed occupied. I perched on the edge of a chair
pushed up against the radiator under the window sill, slipping off my leather jacket and draping it over the back. David’s eyes had closed again and he didn’t seem to be aware I was near him. His bare arms rested atop the covers, the pipe of an intravenous drip taped to the back of one of his hands, hiding the needle that pierced his vein, and the tubes of a nasal cannula hooked behind his ears, a little strip of surgical tape on either side holding it in place. They were keeping an eye on his heart rate. Even though the nurse had told me he was doing okay, the sight of him lying there, so vulnerable and helpless, made me feel as if he was slipping away from me and I was terrified, absolutely terrified. We hadn’t had enough time together; I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I hadn’t been ready to say goodbye that morning on the city centre. I regretted it so much that it hurt.
“David?” I tentatively took hold of his hand nearest to me. It was warmer than it had been earlier and that reassured me. “David, it’s Tenny.”
Just when I thought he couldn’t hear me, his eyes opened again and he looked at me. As soon as his eyes made contact with mine, the sob I’d been holding back since I’d stepped foot in the hospital choked me and I gritted my teeth to restrain it. I saw his throat contracting and his lips moved but no sound came out.
“It’s okay, I’ll stay with you. Just rest, save your energy,” I reassured him.
His expression grew worried and his hand twitched in mine. He was trying to communicate but whatever pain-killers they had given to him was making him dazed, unable to form words.
“What is it?” I leaned closer to listen.
He managed to breathe the word “dog.”
“Don’t worry about Snaffle. She’s in my car. I’ve texted my brother to ask him to come and fetch her so she won’t be out in the car-park all day. We’ll take care of her.”