Never Too Old for Love

by Rosie Harris

  It was only a matter of minutes before the cable from the tug was being attached to the hook on the underside of his glider. He received the thumbs up; he was away, being taken up into the air at a surprising rate of knots. They were about sixty feet above the ground, just clearing the boundary fence when it happened. Richard had no idea why but the tug suddenly, and without any warning, released the cable and before he could collect his thoughts his glider was falling from the sky like a stone.

  There was nothing he could do to avoid the crash that followed. He was too low to veer to the right or left. Before it had really dawned on him what was happening, the ground had rushed up and there was a terrific jarring that sent waves of pain right through his body.

  Only much later would he learn that someone living near the airfield had launched a drone and that it had flown right into the windscreen of the tug – and that the tug had also crashed.

  Immediately following the impact Richard was unaware of anything. As the pain became unbearable he drifted in and out of darkness. When he came to, he found a group of people encircling him. He tried to speak, to tell them he was in pain, but somehow they didn’t seem to hear him, or if they did he wasn’t sure that they understood what he was saying. Voices were calling his name and shouting across to each other. If he could hear them and what they were saying to each other then why didn’t they hear what he was saying, he wondered. He couldn’t fathom it out and once again he found himself in a dreamlike state, drifting away.

  In a determined effort, he struggled to remain conscious of what was going on around him and ignore the waves of pain that swept through him whenever he breathed in.

  From somewhere he could hear the sound of an ambulance approaching and it was become louder every second.

  Suddenly Richard found uniformed men bending over him, telling him their name and that they were paramedics. He sighed with relief. They would know what to do. Expertly they ran their hands over his limbs and asked him questions. He tried to answer them but he was so dazed that his answers didn’t make sense and weren’t of much help. After consultation with each other, using words he didn’t understand, they very gently lifted him on to a stretcher. The movement made him cry out in agony as pain shuddered through his back.

  Once in the ambulance they administered gas and air and assured him that before they started moving they would give him an injection that would lessen the pain. Once more Richard found himself drifting into blackness. He tried to fight the feeling, to remain conscious of what was happening, but in the end he succumbed. By the time the ambulance left the airfield he was once more unconscious.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Mary picked up the receiver just in time.

  ‘Mrs Wilson?’ The authoritative voice on the other end sent her heart pounding. ‘Mrs Wilson? This is Stoke Mandeville Hospital.’

  ‘Yes, yes, my son Richard has been brought in—’

  ‘That is what I am phoning to tell you.’

  Again Mary’s heart thumped. This time it was so loud in her ears that she couldn’t hear what the voice on the other end was saying.

  ‘Could you repeat that please?’ she asked.

  ‘Richard Wilson has been taken to Wexham Hospital in Slough.’

  ‘Oh. You mean he’s there now?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, he will be very shortly. The ambulance left here about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Why … why is he being moved?’ she asked. She felt puzzled and was dreading the answer.

  ‘He needs specialized surgery and the surgeon is already at Wexham Hospital, it’s better for him to be there and remain under the direct care of Mr Dancer.’

  ‘I see.’

  She didn’t see and she didn’t understand.

  ‘I was just on my way to Stoke Mandeville to see him,’ Mary said. ‘If I go to Wexham will they let me see him?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. You will have to contact Wexham Hospital.’

  ‘I see, well thank you for letting me know.’

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she was sure from the clipped tones of the man on the phone he wasn’t prepared to go into further details. Before she had time to sort out in her mind why they were making such a change, Bill called out her name; he and the taxi were still outside waiting for her. Pulling herself together, Mary hurried out, stopping only to lock the front door. She told the driver that they wanted to go to Wexham Hospital, not Stoke Mandeville.

  The driver looked puzzled. ‘You sure about that?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m quite sure. I had a telephone call minutes before you arrived to say my son had now been moved to Wexham Hospital.’

  As Bill settled into his seat and had fastened his seat belt, Mary told him about the change of venue.

  ‘Did they tell you why they were doing that?’ Bill asked frowning.

  ‘Yes, something to do with needing specialist surgery and that the right surgeon was based at Wexham and it was better for Richard to be there and in his care afterwards.’

  Mary knew the taxi driver was listening to their discussion so she merely smiled at Bill and said no more. Mary found the journey a nightmare. She listened to Bill commenting on some of the places they passed on the way, but none of it meant very much to her. Nor did his talk dispel the disturbing thoughts racing through her mind about Richard and all the things that might have happened to him.

  ‘Do you want me to wait?’ the taxi driver asked as Mary paid him.

  ‘No, I have no idea how long I’ll be,’ Mary told him. ‘I’ll ring your office when I am ready to go home.’

  ‘Do you know which ward Richard is in?’ Bill asked as they entered the reception area of the hospital.

  Mary shook her head. ‘No idea at all, I’ll have to ask at the desk.’

  The receptionist looked vague when Mary told her about Richard being transferred from Stoke Mandeville.

  ‘Are you sure that he has already arrived here?’ she asked.

  Mary shook her head. ‘Well, no. When they phoned to tell me, they said that the ambulance had already left and that was about an hour ago.’

  The receptionist pursed her lips. ‘Well, in that case he may still be in the ambulance outside, waiting until there is a bed for him in A&E or reception,’ she said. ‘He certainly hasn’t been admitted to a ward yet.’

  ‘He’s been seriously injured in a flying accident. Surely he would be admitted right away, not kept waiting? I was given to understand that he was sent here because he needs urgent surgery and the surgeon, Mr Dancer, is already here. I’m sure he has been told and is expecting him. Can’t you ring his secretary or the head of his department and find out?’

  ‘Why don’t you go and have a cup of tea and come back again in ten minutes?’ the receptionist advised. ‘In the meantime, I will try and find out if he has arrived and where he is.’

  Mary was about to argue but Bill took her arm, pulling her away from the desk. ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ he said. ‘We’ll be back in about ten minutes,’ Bill told the receptionist, smiling at her.

  ‘No point in antagonising the girl,’ Bill said softly, as he steered Mary away from the reception desk and along in the direction of the hospital restaurant. ‘Richards’s details obviously haven’t been entered yet so there’s not a lot she can do to help you. Perhaps when we come back she will have some news.’

  Mary took a deep breath and clenched her lips into a tight line. She knew Bill was right, but she felt so angry that the girl was so unhelpful that she wanted to scream. She left Bill to get their drinks and she found a small table at the back of the room, somewhere where they could talk without being overheard. She wanted desperately to see Richard and to reassure herself that his injuries were not serious. She also needed to find out whether or not he wanted her to get in touch with Megan, to let her know what had happened. As she sipped at the cup of steaming hot coffee, Mary tried to explain to Bill what might have happened.

  Bill knew pract
ically nothing about gliding except that he had always thought of it as madness to go up into the air in a machine that didn’t have an engine. All the talk about riding the thermals meant nothing at all to him. What were thermals? He knew they were air currents, but how did you find them and how did you know they were going to be strong enough to take a glider – and someone in it – up into the sky and for long distances? It simply didn’t make sense to him.

  Mary, on the other hand, knew a great deal about gliding because it had been something Sam had done ever since she’d first known him. In the early days, she had often gone up in a two-seater glider with him and could understand the exhilaration such freedom brought. Sam had been a very skilled glider pilot and had won trophies for long-distance flights. He was also a skilled aerobatic pilot and when he had tried to demonstrate his skills to Mary she had been so scared that she vowed never to go up again.

  After that, he had only taken her on short flights, ready to return to base whenever she felt she had had enough. He had taken Richard up on numerous occasions and, as soon as he was old enough, he encouraged him to train as a pilot. Richard went solo on his sixteenth birthday, something both Sam and Richard felt proud about. Although Mary realised that it was a highly dangerous sport, she resigned herself to their enthusiasm.

  All sports were dangerous, she told herself, motor racing, horse riding, football, rugby, golf, tennis and even walking was dangerous at times. She could never understand why people risked their lives climbing mountains or scaling rocks. Was it simply because they were a challenge or merely a case that they wanted to defy nature?

  The minute they had finished their coffee Mary was on her feet anxious to get back to the reception desk.

  ‘Slow down,’ Bill told her. ‘It will take time to trace him and find out where he is. This place is enormous, you know. They must be admitting and discharging people every second of the day.’

  When they returned to the reception desk, the girl they had already spoken to greeted them with a bright smile.

  ‘You know where he is?’ Mary asked eagerly. ‘Can I see him?’

  The girls smile faded. ‘He has been admitted,’ she said cautiously, ‘but he has been taken straight into surgery.’

  ‘You mean I can’t see him?’ Mary said sharply.

  ‘Certainly not at the moment and I have no idea how long he will be in surgery. Or how long he will be in the recovery room afterwards,’ the girl said cautiously.

  ‘Can’t someone tell you?’ Mary asked agitatedly.

  The girl shook her head. ‘I don’t think anyone knows for sure. Why don’t you go home? We will phone you as soon as he is back in the ward and then you can come in and see him.’

  Mary shook her head. ‘No, I want to see him now. Where is the surgery, if I go along they might let me have a quick word with him before they operate?’

  The girl shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, that is out of the question.’

  Mary refused to be turned away. She put forward every plausible argument she could but the girl remained firm.

  Finally Bill took her arm. ‘I think we had better do as suggested and go home and wait for a telephone call. It could take several hours before Richard is in a fit state to see you or anybody.’

  Mary shook his arm away. ‘I don’t mind waiting; I’ve nothing better to do.’

  ‘Well do it in comfort then,’ Bill said firmly. ‘I’ll ring for a taxi and we’ll go home. There’s no point in hanging around here. There’s nothing you can do and Richard wouldn’t want you to be waiting here.’ Before Mary could protest, Bill added, ‘We must let Lucia know, she must be worried stiff. She probably doesn’t know what to say to little George. He will be wondering where his Daddy is, so we can at least set their minds at rest.’

  Mary sighed but agreed. As they left, Bill thanked the receptionist for her help.

  There was a taxi available for them. Mary was silent on the way home.

  ‘Do you want to go straight home or shall we call in on the way to let Lucia know what’s happening?’ Bill asked.

  Mary hesitated. ‘We’d better do that, I suppose,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘We’ll ask the taxi to wait. I don’t think I have the strength to walk home from there.’

  ‘Have you decided what you are going to tell her?’ Bill asked.

  ‘What is there to tell her except that Richard is in hospital and we can’t see him?’ she said hopelessly.

  ‘True,’ Bill agreed, ‘but what about telling Megan? It’s going to be quite a shock for little George when Lucia breaks the news to him that his Dad has had an accident.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it will be.’ Mary agreed.

  ‘Well, he might need his mother to comfort him when he hears it,’ Bill warned.

  Mary was quiet, thinking it over. As the taxi drew up outside Richard’s house she said, ‘I’ll ask Lucia for Megan’s phone number and ring her later this evening.’

  ‘The school will also have to be informed as well,’ Bill reminded her.

  ‘Yes, and I’ll do that tomorrow morning. By then I might have some real news to tell them.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Megan was very abrupt when Mary phoned her later that evening.

  ‘I am getting ready to go out so I haven’t time to stand chattering,’ she said very ungraciously.

  ‘I’m not ringing for a chat. I have some bad news to tell you,’ Mary said in a quiet voice.

  ‘Bad news? What sort of bad news?’

  ‘Richard has had an accident.’

  ‘In the car?’

  ‘No, he was in his glider.’

  ‘Oh, the damn fool,’ Megan exclaimed irritably. ‘I’ve been on at him for years to give it up. I knew he would have an accident sooner or later.’

  ‘Well this is the first time in almost thirty years,’ Mary said dryly.

  ‘Such a senseless pastime. If you want to fly then go in a proper plane with an engine and let someone experienced fly it,’ Megan ranted. ‘When did it happen? Has he hurt himself badly?’

  ‘It happened only a few hours ago. He has hurt his back. He is in Wexham hospital and at the moment is having surgery.’

  ‘This evening! What was he doing up at the gliding field this evening? He should have been at home supervising Lucia and making sure she was putting George to bed.’

  Mary didn’t answer.

  ‘Well, is that all?’ Megan asked.

  ‘It’s all I can tell you at the moment.’

  ‘Have you been to see him?’

  A lump came into Mary’s throat. ‘No, they said I would have to wait until after the operation was over,’ she said gulping back her tears.

  ‘Ridiculous. They should have let you see him so that he could tell you what happened.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be at his bedside as soon as they will let me,’ Mary told her forcefully.

  ‘Good. Well, let me know how he is getting on. You can tell him that I have no intention of cutting my trip short to come home.’

  Before Mary could make any comment, she heard the receiver go down at Megan’s end. She stood motionless for a second until Bill, who had obviously been able to hear one side of the conversation and had surmised what was being said on the other end, commented.

  ‘Heartless bitch!’

  ‘Bill!’ Mary looked shocked.

  ‘Well she is. Most wives would have caught the next plane home. What is she doing? She’s going out to a party.’

  Mary wiped away the tears that were flooding her eyes. Bill was so right. Megan was heartless. She hadn’t sounded the least concerned, only angry with Richard for having had an accident.

  ‘Try not to let it get to you,’ Bill said gruffly. ‘I’ll make us both a drink. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Thanks Bill, that’s just what I need. Let’s have coffee and put a spoonful of whisky in it,’ Mary suggested, trying to smile.

  ‘Whisky! I didn’t know you liked the hard stuff,’ Bill teased.

  ‘I don’t b
ut I keep a bottle of it in the house for emergencies. A drop in hot water with a spoonful of honey at bedtime is wonderfully soothing, if you have a cold or a sore throat.’

  ‘We don’t have either,’ Bill pointed out.

  ‘No, but it’s soothing all the same and will help me get some sleep tonight.’

  Bill gave her a quizzical look but said nothing.

  He stayed with Mary until almost ten o’clock, both of them hoping that there would be a call from the hospital with news about Richard.

  ‘Surely they’ve finished operating on him by now,’ Mary said anxiously.

  ‘He’s probably still in the recovery room and they won’t telephone you until he is fully conscious,’ Bill commented.

  ‘You mean not until tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Does seem to be that way. I’m off home but I’ll come round tomorrow morning about eleven?’

  ‘Why don’t you phone first and I can tell you what’s happening?’

  Bill hesitated. ‘All right, but promise you’ll phone me if you hear from the hospital. Don’t go there on your own, I’ll come with you.’

  ‘Thanks Bill, that’s good of you.’

  Mary saw Bill to the door, then returned to the living room. She had no intention of going to bed. Despite what Bill said, she was sure they would call her before morning and she wanted to be near the phone. She settled herself into her reclining chair and draped a light throw over her legs, in case it became chilly later in the night. She didn’t think she would sleep but the long arduous day, coupled with the hot toddy, took care of things. Half an hour later she was asleep.

  It was ten o’clock the next morning before the phone call came. Mary was so relieved that for a moment she couldn’t understand what the woman on the other end was saying.

  She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and asked the woman to say it all again.

  ‘That is Mrs Mary Wilson?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I was so relieved to be getting some news that—’

  The woman didn’t wait for Mary to finish. ‘It’s about your son, she said more slowly.