Elephants and Castles

by John Patrick

In hospital, Elvis had woken again. Some of the tubes and wires had been removed and he could move a little more freely. At the desk he could see Henry, chatting to one of the young doctors and pointing at a brown folder before they both turned to look at Elvis.

  Spotting he was awake, Henry came across. 'Elvis, me little mate! What the bloody 'ell 'ave you bin playin' at?'

  'Do they know what's wrong with me Henry?'

  'You had a nasty pneumonia and probable septicaemia, you know, blood poisonin'. It's gettin' better with the antibiotics though. You were a very sick man when you came in 'ere you know.'

  'But why did I get pneumonia?'

  'Well that's a good question Elvis, and they don't know the answer yet. But the main thing is you're gettin' better.'

  'You're not sick are you Henry? You haven't caught it off me?'

  'Na mate, I'm fine. I need to be too. I got a new baby.' he added with a grin.

  'Oh Nya! She had the baby?'

  Henry nodded. 'Remember last time I saw you, when that dick..., sorry, when that man was mouthin' off and she fell over. Remember? You helped her? Well, anyhow, that night she went into labour. It was a bit early, but there was no stopping 'im comin' out.'

  'Him? It's a boy.'

  Henry nodded with a grin.

  'What you called him?'

  'Abit. Nya chose it.' he explained 'She said it suits him because he's a bit early there's only a little bit of him.'

  'Are they OK Henry?'

  'Well, he's on a machine to help him breathe Elvis. He's getting antibiotics like you. Nya's with him all the time, she won't leave him.' Tears welled in his eyes. 'We're doing a lot of praying.' he added with a forced smile.

  Elvis didn't know what to say. Perhaps if he'd been stronger, able to hold Nya, perhaps she wouldn't have fallen, perhaps she wouldn't have had the baby so early. Why was he always so weak?

  'Anyway, look at you Elvis. You're proof that miracles can 'appen. I looked at you when you came in 'ere three days ago an' I was worried that you might not...'

  'Three days ago! I've been here three days! Crap! I've got to go!' Elvis sat up and began to pull away the wires and leads.

  'Elvis, what you doin' mate? You can't go 'ome, you're still sick!'

  'Elvis, stop it!' ordered Monica walking into the room. 'Is this your doing Henry?'

  'Me? No. I'm telling him to stay Misses Klatzmann!'

  Elvis staggered to his feet.

  Monica grabbed hold of her son's arm and tried to drag him back to bed. 'You're sick Elvis. You need to be in bed. You don't know what you're doing!'

  Elvis tried to pull his arm away but Monica wasn't having it. She wrapped her arms around his body and fell with him onto the bed.

  'Elvis, uncool mate!' said Henry 'You don't wrestle with your mother! Come on! If you settle y'self down...'

  But before he could finish his sentence a small herd of doctors and nurses entered the room.

  'Next is Elvis Klatzmann,' announced a doctor who looked like he should still have been at high school, 'a thirteen year old boy who presented with pneumonia and septic shock. Now afebrile and ...'

  'What on earth are you doing?' asked the ageing consultant looking at Elvis and his mother over the top of his spectacles. 'You can stop that right now young man and get back in bed.'

  Monica jumped up and straightened her clothes.

  'I've got to go home.' explained Elvis as he ripped off the last of the heart monitor stickers from his chest.

  'I will tell you when you can go home Master Klatzmann.'

  Elvis paid no heed. He stood back up, opened his locker and started searching for his clothes. Henry leant forward and said something quietly in Elvis's ear. Elvis looked back at him and thought for a moment and then sat back on the bed. Henry turned to the consultant.

  'Doctor Wishman, can I have a quick word please. In private.'

  'Hello Henry. Yes, so long as it's quick. I've a big ward round to do here. Stay right where you are Elvis.'

  The two of them disappeared into the corridor for a couple of minutes and then returned.

  'Yes, as I say Henry, I'll need to satisfy myself first.' said Doctor Wishman as they approached the bed again. He picked up Elvis's observation chart and scrutinised it. He nodded and hooked it back over the end of the bed. 'Lift up your shirt please Elvis.'

  Elvis frowned, but Henry nodded his approval so Elvis obliged. Doctor Wishman carefully examined his chest, rechecked his pulse and blood pressure and looked again at the observation chart.

  'Well, it wasn't what I had in mind young man, but as you have made a lot of improvement, and as Henry here has promised me he will call on you every day for the next week and report back to me, I guess I can let you go home with some strict conditions.'

  'Are you sure about that doctor?' asked Monica. 'I don't want him home if he's going to do something strange!'

  'What conditions?' asked Elvis.

  'That you take your tablets until they're all gone, that you promise me that if Henry tells you that you need to come back to the hospital then you come back immediately, and most important of all is that your mother is in agreement. Is that clear?'

  Elvis nodded then turned to his mother. 'Mum, I've got to go home, please!'

  'Misses. Klatzmann, can I have a quiet word?' Doctor Wishman took Monica out to the corridor.

  'Doctor I'm really not sure about this.'

  'Misses Klatzmann, I would rather have him here a little longer too but I know what they can be like at this age. After watching him fighting with you on the bed, I'm sure it's better to let you take him home under supervision and with all the right tablets than have him run off when we're not looking. He really is over the worst now anyway.'

  'But you still don't know what was wrong with him!'

  'We know enough and we know he's getting better. And anyway, Henry will keep a close eye for me.'

  'But Henry? He's not qualified.'

  'I know Henry well. He's a sound student and he wouldn't be afraid to speak up if he was concerned. I'm sure Henry would do a fine job. I trust him.'

  'But doctor, can't you just tell him he has to stay?'

  'Yes, I could Misses Klatzmann, I could do that. In fact two years ago I had a thirteen year old girl on this ward who fought to go home just like your son. I made her stay. Then later that night, when the staff were busy, she slipped out of the ward and ran away.'

  'So? Didn't you find her?'

  'Yes, the police did, three days later. She was floating upside down in the Thames. I don't want to be melodramatic Misses Klatzmann but I vowed that day never to let that happen in this hospital again. Your son is out of danger. With Henry keeping an eye for me I'm sure he'll be fine. Bring him back to see me on Friday. Call me any time if you're worried. OK?'

  In the tunnel Samuel, Mary and Brock had spent several uncomfortable hours failing to sleep on the hard floor. Morning had brought a feeble light that leaked in through cracks in the stone ceiling above. They found themselves in a small circular chamber with walls largely hidden by thick roots and rope-like vines of ivy invading from above. A rusty iron ladder was attached to one wall. Samuel climbed the rungs. The ladder creaked and swayed until he reached the top. Above his head was a square flagstone. Samuel pushed on it but it was too heavy to move.

  'Come on you,' said Brock 'let me try.'

  Brock reached up and plucked Samuel from the ladder before climbing up himself. With Brock's weight, the ladder swayed wildly, sending mortar tumbling through the ivy. Brock pushed on the flagstone. It was heavy and wedged tightly into place. It couldn't have moved for many a year. Brock held firmly onto the ladder, bent his neck and heaved with his shoulders. Dirt and mortar tumbled into the chamber and the flagstone reluctantly lifted away. The three of them climbed out and into another small room, this time formed of large marble blocks. It had no windows, but light burst in through small holes in the roof and around the decaying wooden door. Brock grabbed the iron handle on the inside of the
heavy old door and dragged it open a few inches. They peeped out through the gap. They were across the road in the churchyard.

  'I told you!' said Samuel 'I told you there was a tunnel to the church!'

  Brock pulled the door open a little more and the three of them slipped out and made their way quickly back into the hall.

  'Mary! Samuel! Where've you been? I've been worried sick! You shouldn't stay out so long. Who knows what might happen!'

  'Yeh Mum, of course. Don't forget we 'ave been dead for three hundred years!' pointed out Samuel.

  Elizabeth turned to Brock. 'Mister Brock. It's so good to see you again! Have you seen James?'

  Brock shook his head.

  'Never mind, he had the potion so he should be here soon. You gave him potion, didn't you? You told me you gave him the potion?'

  Brock looked at the floor.

  Back home again, Elvis climbed to the attic. The floorboards were still up and the boxes and crates turned over, but there was nobody with boils or sores, no one dressed in old clothes. Elvis walked to the attic window and peered out. The church yard across the road was deserted. He could see the back corner of the concrete hall. It looked the same as ever, except for white smoke coming from the side windows.

  'Oh crap!' thought Elvis 'They've set the place on fire!'

  Elvis charged downstairs. He had to get across the road and see what was happening and put out the fire before anyone saw it.

  As he reached the foot of the stairs though, he found his mother talking to someone through the front door. 'OK Alan, but don't be too long. I don't want him tired out. He's been very sick.' Monica turned around to call Elvis. 'Oh you're there sweetie. Look, Alan's just been to the hospital to see you and they sent him here. Isn't that nice? Now I've told him he can't be too long, you need to rest.'

  Alan presented Elvis with a brown paper bag containing chocolate and a computer magazine. Monica went into the living room to listen to more words of wisdom from Doctor Phil.

  'You feelin' better Elvis?' asked Alan 'I thought you'd still be in hospital. What was wrong with you?'

  'Pneumonia.' explained Elvis brusquely. 'Alan, I need your help. I need to show you something. I need to know if you can see it too. I need to know I'm not going nuts. But you've got to promise me that you won't tell anyone, no matter what. You promise?'

  'What you talkin' about? Nuts? I thought you had pneumonia.'

  'Promise me, please.'

  'OK, OK. What d'you want to show me?'

  'Here, hang onto this.' Elvis fumbled in his pocket then passed his friend a surgical mask. 'I nicked these from the hospital.'

  'What the... Why are you giving me this?'

  'You'll see why in a minute... hopefully.'

  The pair of them slipped down the kitchen stairs then out of the house.

  'If your Mum thinks I've taken you out she'll kill me!' moaned Alan.

  'Don't worry, she'll never know.'

  They crossed the road and rounded the back of the church.

  'Oh shit, look at that smoke! What are they doing? Put your mask on Alan.'

  Alan humoured Elvis and tied the green paper mask across his face. Elvis opened the outer glass door to the hall and showed Alan into the small foyer.

  'Right' thought Elvis 'this is where I find out if I'm completely insane.' He opened the wooden door into the main hall. Many more people had arrived since Elvis had last been there. The room was full, the smell stronger and the air heavy with smoke. There were people lying on the floor, sitting on tables and chairs, a few were sat around a small fire in the corner cooking. Everyone was dressed with clothes straight out of an historical movie and everyone bore the marks of plague.

  Alan stood open-mouthed and speechless. Le Clerc came to greet them. Elvis walked straight past him and towards the fire .

  'You can't do that in here!' He grabbed a jug of water and doused the flames. A cloud of steam hissed from the embers. His actions were met with shouts of disapproval.

  Alan turned around and stumbled back out of the hall.

  'Hey, wait!' cried Elvis.

  Le Clerc stepped into Elvis's path. 'Have you got that medicine? We need the medicine. Where have you been? We haven't seen you for days. We can't stay in here for ever!'

  Others began to gather, asking the same questions. But Elvis needed to catch up with his friend. He pushed them out of the way.

  'I'll be back with your medicine.' he promised and he dashed after Alan.

  'What do you mean you didn't give him the potion?' Elizabeth was still finding it hard to accept what Brock had told her. 'You promised me that you'd given it to him. You told me you'd seen him drink it! How can you lie to me like that?'

  'I did it to protect you Elizabeth. I didn't want to hurt you.'

  'Hurt me? You lied Mister Brock. You lied to protect yourself and hide your own... laziness. Don't try and say you did it to protect me! If you'd done what you'd promised then James would be here now.'

  'I'm sorry Elizabeth. It wasn't like that I promise.'

  'Your promises don't seem to be worth very much Mister Brock, do they?'

  'Elizabeth, I tried to find him, I tried to give him the potion. He was my friend. I looked for James for hours, in every yard and back alley I could think of. But he wasn't anywhere. I only gave up when I felt sure there was no hope for him. I'm sorry, I know that was wrong, but I couldn't bear to see you hurt. That was the only reason I lied. Can't you forgive me for that?'

  'No... Well... I don't know Mister Brock, I really don't know.'

  'I can keep you safe now. You need someone to protect you and your family. This is a strange place. James would want that, I'm sure.' He placed a hand on her arm.

  'You assume too much, Mister Brock.' Elizabeth shrugged off his grip and walked away.

  Elvis chased after Alan. 'You saw them! You really saw them!'

  'What's going on Elvis?' asked Alan. 'This is fucking weird, man. I don't like it.'

  Footsteps approached. Alan turned around. It was Samuel. He'd sneaked back across the road and found somebody else, a young woman in long pinafore dress and bonnet, her face mottled and peppered with sores like the rest. Samuel smiled and nodded as he walked past.

  'Elvis, I don't know what you're up to here but I don't want any part in it. I'm going home. I'll see you when you're back at school.'

  'Alan, no. I need your help. Please don't go!'

  The door to the hall opened again and Le Clerc stepped out. He'd found himself some clothes to blend in with modern dress. If Elvis wasn't going to get him his medicine, he'd go and find some for himself. He wore a red flower-patterned shirt, some black vinyl trousers and a pair of brown cowboy boots. He turned his collar up and surveyed the scene around him.

  'Oh shit!' moaned Elvis 'Wait Alan, I'll be right back.'

  Elvis ushered Le Clerc back into the hall.

  Alan had no intention of waiting around. He took his chance and walked briskly to the bus stop.

  Inside the hall Elvis was mobbed. Patience was running out and people wanted the new wondrous medicine. Elvis explained how he'd been sick and in hospital and that was why he hadn't been back, but his explanation only strengthened their desire for treatment.

  'You had medicine and it worked!' shouted Le Clerc. 'How much does it cost? How much can you get? We need it now!'

  'Alright!' shouted Elvis. 'I'll get you the medicine.'

  'When? When will you get it?'

  'Tonight, I'll try tonight.'

  'And where's Cormag?' asked Madadh 'I need ma brother.

  'He was taken.' explained Mary.

  'Teken by who?' demanded Madadh, clutching at his dirk.

  'By men in strange clothes in a talkin' carriage with blue lights. They said they were takin' 'im to 'ospital.'

  'Reet, A'll I'll be away te get 'im free then. Ye laddie, where'd I find this 'ospital place?'

  'No, slow down!' said Elvis 'I'll find him, don't worry. He'll be safe in hospital.' Elvis backed up tow
ards the exit. 'Please, wait here, everybody! I'll be back with your medicine! I promise' Elvis pushed his way outside and closed the door firmly. He paused and took a deep breath. He had to find a way to get the medicine he'd promised. But how? Outside he found Mary, sitting on the ground with her back leant against the blackened sandstone blocks that formed the church.

  'Oh no!' cried Elvis 'You can't stay out here! You'll be seen. Please, back inside now.'

  Mary kept her face pointed to the floor and said nothing.

  'Come on, for heaven's sake get inside before someone comes!' Elvis leant down and put a hand under Mary's arm to try and help her up. Mary smacked it away.

  'Leave me alone. Who cares if we're seen anyway?'

  'I'll get the medicine for you and your family' reassured Elvis. 'I'll find a way and then you'll all be well.'

  'And what then? We all live 'ere, 'iding in this little 'ouse f'rever? Is that it? Is that yer great plan?'

  'At least all of your family are here. At least you’re together and safe.'

  Mary said nothing.

  'Doesn't that mean something to you? What's wrong with you people for heaven's sake?'

  'Not all me family's 'ere. Me Dad's not come.'

  'Well people are still arriving all of the time. He'll probably be here any minute.'

  'No. I worked it out. Everyone what's come back drank the potion, you know, like we told ya 'bout. That's what done it, the potion. But 'e never 'ad none. We thought 'e 'ad, we thought that Brock 'ad give 'im some but 'e lied. 'E never 'ad none so 'e won't be comin' back, not never.'

  'Oh' said Elvis softly. He sat on the ground alongside Mary. She shuffled a little away from him. 'Well, maybe he never got sick and never needed it. Maybe he stayed well and lived to a grand old age.'

  'I doubt it.'

  'But he might have.'

  'Yeh an' 'e might 'ave laid a golden egg and an' lived with the pixies.'

  'I guess we'll never know if he got plague. Unless...'

  'Unless what?'

  'I've got an idea. Come with me.'

  Chapter 10