by Paul Gait
The gravedigger he had seen earlier climbed from behind the green gauze. It was Nadine.
Three cherubic looking babies holding hands blocked his way. Their angelic voices were demonically distorted, booming in his head and filling his mind.
‘Godfather help us, help us, help us,’ they pleaded.
He tried unsuccessfully to side step them, the babies flew at him, attacking him, clinging to his legs. One jumped on to his back, arms tight around his neck, throttling him. He couldn’t breathe.
All the time their voices were filling his head, pleading for help.
He couldn’t run. He started falling and falling and…
As the Vicar returned with a glass of water Geoffery was thrashing around.
‘Geoffery can you hear me? It’s OK Geoffery, you’re OK. Take your time,’ Andy said reassuringly.
Geoffery seemed to respond. His limbs stopped flailing.
‘You dozed off during the service. The Vicar wants to have words with you about disturbing his ceremony, isn’t that right Vicar?’ Andy added lightly.
‘Where, where am I?’ Geoffery asked thickly. ‘Who are you? Get away, get away from me.’
Through his distorted vision Andy’s face took the shape of a fearful gargoyle.
‘It’s OK Geoffery, it’s me Andy. You just fainted that’s all. Just give yourself a few minutes and you’ll be fine.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll help you, I’ll help you,’ Geoffery continued, addressing the babies in his dream.
‘You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?’ said the Vicar reaching for his mobile.
‘No he’ll be OK.’
‘But he’s so white and look at that bump on his forehead. You don’t think he’s got brain damage do you?’ asked the concerned cleric.
Geoffery was still fighting to regain consciousness, all the while muttering incoherently.
‘He ought to be regaining consciousness by now,’ said Andy starting to feel concerned.
Andy’s hand accidentally brushed Geoffery’s coat aside as he bent over him exposing the small box attached to Geoffery’s belt which had clear plastic pipes disappearing under Geoffery’s clothing.
‘Ah, here’s the problem,’ he said studying the box. ‘His morphine is set on high delivery. He’s mildly OD’d.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked the other, puzzled.
‘Sorry for the jargon,’ said Andy, ‘He’s mildly overdosed. Geoffery have you had more pain?’ he asked looking closely into Geoffery’s white face.
‘Pains? pains?’ Geoffery repeated, trying to make sense of what was being asked.
‘Are you sure about this ambulance? They could be here within five minutes, the ambulance station is just down the road,’ asked the Vicar insistently.
‘No,’ said Andy standing to address the concerned cleric. ‘He will be OK shortly; I’ve reduced the dosage down to a normal level. But if you could help me get him back into his wheelchair we’ll be out of your way.’
‘So long as you think he’s going to be OK?’
‘I can assure you, it’s nothing to worry about. I have been caring professionally for Geoffery for a while now.’
‘OK.’
‘Geoffery, we’re going to put you into your wheelchair now,’ advised Andy gently touching the back of Geoffery’s hand reassuringly. ‘The fresh air will help clear your head.’
‘I’m sorry; I’ll make up for it. I didn’t have time,’ Geoffery muttered, still talking to the phantom children of his fevered imagination.
‘What’s he talking about? Are you’re sure he’s OK,’ said the Vicar moving the kneeling cushions supporting Geoffery’s feet.
‘Still a bit delirious I think, but I’m perfectly sure he’s OK,’ Andy reassured him lifting Geoffery into the wheelchair and securing the waist and shoulder straps. ‘He’s a bit high at the moment. I wonder if we knocked the switch on his pain pump when I stopped him from falling down by the gate.’
Helen and a group of concerned relatives and friends were standing on the path as they emerged through the low entrance door.
‘OK folks, sorry about the little drama in there. It appears that Geoffery went accidentally on a trip. He’ll be OK in a minute.’
‘He doesn’t look it,’ said Helen, concerned.
‘Yes he’s fine don’t fuss,’ said Andy tetchily. The over concern of others was starting to make Andy irritable. They were, after all, questioning his professional judgement.
‘Daddy, why did Mr Foster lay down in the church?’ enquired a still concerned Amy.
‘It’s because he is poorly darling,’ replied Helen gently. ‘Daddy will make him better, so don’t worry.’
‘I wish I could,’ thought Andy. ‘Yes that’s right darling, don’t worry,’ he said gently.
Geoffery was beginning to take in his surroundings, the nightmare fading. He felt something touch his hand and struggled to open his heavy eyelids. Amy was standing by his side, her little hand resting on his.
‘It’s OK Mr Foster, don’t worry, my Daddy will make you better,’ she said standing on tiptoe hugging him. As she removed her little arms from around his neck she gave him a kiss on his hollow cheek.
Immediately, unaware of the impact her moment of compassion had made, she ran off join her friends.
However, the little girl’s touch had a devastating effect on Geoffery. Somehow he stopped himself from wailing like a baby. But as the tears of self-pity flowed, he bowed his head to hide them. He hadn’t been hugged for a long time. The only touching of his failing body had been by the impersonal medical inspection by a series of health professionals. Oh how he longed for Nadine to hold him as she used to, just to cuddle him to her soft perfect body,.
‘Ahh isn’t she a little darling,’ said Helen proudly, ‘Compassionate, just like her Dad’.
Andy, ever vigilant, spotted the effect on Geoffery and to save his embarrassment he pushed the wheelchair to the front of the group leading them quickly back to the car.
‘Come on let’s get to the pub before those sandwiches get too curly,’ he said trying to brush aside the drama.
As they got closer to the car Geoffery heard Amy being asked by her five year old cousin if he was going to die?
‘No of course not, my Daddy will make him better,’ Amy said innocently. ‘Come on let’s catch Uncle John.’ They dashed off; party frocks billowing, leaving Andy to help Geoffery into his car.
‘Of course I’m going to die,’ Geoffery thought, ‘but not before I’ve sorted out a few things. What was that George Elliot saying? It’s never too late to be what you might have been. Watch this space,’ he said, positively, under his breath.
PART TWO
Quest and Challenges
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Monday September 22nd – Sunset count 22
‘It was a lovely christening yesterday, thank you for inviting me. I’m sorry about…you know, the…my… problem. I hope I didn’t spoil your day,’ Geoffery said awkwardly.
‘It was a pleasure to have you there, and no, the church thing didn’t upset anything. I’m so grateful for the loan of your car,’ Andy reassured him.
‘I’ve been thinking about things.’
‘Oh?’
‘I am going to get my solicitors to track down my Godsons,’ Geoffery announced, as they walked slowly towards the day room.
‘Really, that’s good. Why do you want to find them?’ quizzed Andy.
‘I just thought it would be nice to find out something about them as I haven’t seen them for years.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Andy agreed.
‘I suppose, if I’m honest, I’ve got a bit of a guilty conscience,’ Geoffery confessed.
‘About what?’ Andy asked, puzzled.
‘If I analyse it, the reasons seem pretty pathetic.’
‘Why?’
‘Well my business life has prevented me from fulfilling my Godparent duties. You know the help and guidance thing. And so I
thought I’d make up for lost time. What do you think? I value your opinion.’
‘Depends what that involves. I wouldn’t advise that you chase around the country after them. You need to look after yourself.’
‘You mean just keeping myself ticking over for a bit longer? No, sorry, I need to have something to focus on and I think this will make life here more interesting,’ Geoffery said enthusiastically. ‘Yesterday’s incident was a timely reminder of my frailty.’
‘Well, yes I understand your reasoning, but I’m just suggesting you pace yourself, that’s all.’
‘In the past, my life has been very business-focused and now I’ve got a chance, while I can, to think of people rather than making money. If I was to compare myself against you and the way you conduct your life, it reminds me of how self-centered I have been,’ Geoffery confessed.
‘But our lives are so very different, we’re poles apart,’ Andy said, flattered that anybody should envy his life.
‘True, my money has bought me a lot of material things but I’ve never had true friendship. Whereas you’ve got a different perspective on life and it appears that your love of humanity attracts friends.’
‘Love of humanity! I’m not sure everybody would see it that way,’ laughed Andy.
‘I don’t think it’s too late to show my Godsons, even after all these years, that I can help them do you?’ Geoffery continued, his eyes gleaming with purpose. ‘Perhaps ease their financial burdens.’
‘Oh, is that what you mean by helping them, giving them a legacy.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Geoffery stopped and looked at Andy.
‘I’m sorry. I’m speaking out of turn,’ Andy said quickly.
‘No Andy, please carry on, I value your advice. I’m not terribly good at this benevolence thing.’
‘Are you just going to buy yourself into their lives? Is that your intention?’ Andy asked earnestly.
‘Well I’m not that far removed from reality to know that everybody could do with a windfall, a surprise stroke of luck.’
‘OK, perhaps I’m being naive, but how is this going to help you fulfill your intentions as a Godparent?’
‘Well I’m sure they’ll have debts, things that they want; A new house, a holiday, a boat. I’ll be helping them.’
‘Sorry to be blunt, but will this ease your conscience?’
‘Conscience money! What’s the matter with that anyway?’ said Geoffery surprised that his good intentions were being questioned.
‘If it makes you feel better. I’m sure your gesture will make them very happy.’
‘Right that’s what I’ll do then,’ said Geoffery ruffled.
‘OK, fine.’ Andy could detect Geoffery’s growing tension and decided a change of topic might help.
‘What did you want for your dinner today?’
‘I’ll have the soup and…So what else could I do?’ said Geoffery seeking further clarification.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t interfere. They’re your Godsons.’
‘Yes, yes that’s right. My Godsons,’ said Geoffery defiantly.
‘What would you like for your main course? I understand the chicken chasseur is very nice.’
‘Yes, I’ll have some of that, if you say so.’
‘And your sweet?’
‘Rice pudding,’ said Geoffery still niggled by having his good deed proposals questioned.
‘Come on then Mr Humanitarian, you’re the one who has been accumulating points on your Pearly Gates privilege card. Help me out here,’ Geoffery pleaded.
‘Sorry!’ said an amazed Andy. ‘I think we’d better continue this discussion at another time. You’re clearly still suffering from the effects of yesterday’s overdose.’
‘Look, I don’t even have a church loyalty card to start with,’ Geoffery said, uncomfortably. ‘I suppose, the bottom line is, I’m just trying to make up for things I should have done.’
‘It’s not unusual for people at your stage of illness to look for a way of seeking spiritual peace,’ Andy added.
‘You must think me a hypocrite. I expect you see a lot of your patients looking for ways to rectify past misdeeds, even turn to religion?’
‘It’s perfectly understandable,’ Andy said sympathetically. ‘But I don’t think you can suddenly turn it on. It’s a life style thing. At least that’s the way I’ve always thought about it.’
‘So you’re saying I’ve left it too late?’
‘No. I’m not saying that. Sorry, this is getting a bit heavy for me. I’m not a great theological thinker. I don’t know whether there’s a god or a heaven or hell. All I know is that it feels right to treat people with respect, to help them in whatever way I can, to help make their life enjoyable,’ Andy explained passionately.
‘Right then, I reckon that’s what I’ll do for my Godsons. Make their lives enjoyable. I can still do that, even if it is many years since I last saw them.’
‘You are probably right, please ignore my scepticism.’
‘I can see you’re quite passionate about the people thing. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be doing this job.’
‘Please don’t make me out to be some kind of Saint, because I’m not. I have my faults and failings just like everybody else. I do this job because I need to clothe and feed my family, not because I’m on an evangelical mission. I just happen to like doing it. If I can help improve people’s quality of life in their final few days, provide them with some dignity when they are at their lowest, then that’s a bonus.’
‘OK, message received. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. But will you help me?’
‘Help you? To do what exactly?’
‘Help me to find a way to help my Godsons without just throwing money at them.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Andy reluctantly.
‘But you were the one who was telling me I was going to do it all wrong and now you…’
‘I’m sorry but I haven’t got time, I lead a pretty full life as it is, what with the kids and the Scouts and…’
‘OK, I’ll employ you full time then. How about 4K a month and…’
‘Four thousand pounds! Andy stared at him open mouthed.
‘Yes, what do you say?’
‘Sorry I need to get your meal choice to the chef,’ Andy said, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.
‘What! Where are you going? Geoffery said surprised.’ I didn’t mean to insult you. Isn’t it enough? OK, how about 5K and expenses?’
Andy left the room without further comment, closing the door quietly behind him.
‘Now what did I say?’ Geoffery was perplexed. ‘Either he’s a cool negotiator or I’ve touched a raw nerve,’ he thought.
Annoyed at the rebuff, Geoffery petulantly threw his papers on the floor. ‘I can’t do right for doing wrong. Bollocks, why bother,’ he muttered. ‘Who does he think he is anyway, throwing my generosity in my face?’ Geoffery continued, rattled at Andy’s apparent rudeness. ‘I’ll find a way to make him change his mind. There are many ways to skin a cat,’ Geoffery said, reaching for his mobile.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Andy opened his front door and lifted his bicycle into the hallway; he was hot and sweaty from his ride home.
‘Evening, love,’ Helen called from the kitchen. ‘Tea will be ready in about another thirty minutes. Sorry it’s delayed, only I met Sarah in town and we had a good old gossip.’
‘I’m hungry now, can we get some chips?’ Andy asked, unbuckling his helmet and putting it on the coat hook.
‘No I’m doing us a proper meal. You need to watch your weight,’ Helen instructed.
‘This bloody cycling will do that for me. I’m knackered and that traffic,’ Andy replied irritably.
‘How was your day?’ Helen asked, putting a saucepan onto the cooker.
‘It was OK,’ Andy said unconvincingly.
‘Oh dear, what’s upset you?’
‘Oh, nothing!’
‘Well it doesn�
�t sound like nothing. Have you lost a patient?
‘No.’
‘So what’s brought this on?’
‘Nothing!’
‘Come on, we’ve been married long enough now for me to know when there’s something up. What is it?’
‘Stop interrogating me, will you? I’m going to have a shower,’ Andy called, as he ran upstairs.
‘Oh dear, we are in a mood. I wonder what’s brought this hissy fit on,’ Helen mused as she continued with the meal preparation.
Andy joined Helen later at the meal table after his shower.
‘So, are you going to tell me what’s up or are we going to have a Mr Grumpy all evening?’
‘Nothing, I’m just tired that’s all,’ said Andy sitting down at the table picking up his cutlery.
‘While you’re in a bad mood, you might be interested in the bill from the garage,’ Helen advised. ‘The car is going to cost £1500 It needs a new engine; something to do with a broken cam belt and bent valves.’
‘Oh great, that’s all I need.’
‘Oh and I see the stair carpet is starting to wear through. That will have a hole in it soon and it will be dangerous, so we’ll need to change that too.’
‘Where the hell are we going to get money like that from?’ Andy said, slamming his cutlery down.
‘It’s not my fault. I wasn’t driving the car when it broke. I’ll just have to get a job in the evenings that’s all, if we’re ever going to replace the car,’ replied Helen.
Andy stood up and started to move away from the table.
‘Now where are you going?’
‘It’s Scout night.’
‘You’ve got time to eat your tea. Now sit down. You’re not being a good example to Amy. More importantly, you tell me what’s wrong. You can’t expose those kids to your miserable face. Now what is it?’ she demanded.
Andy sat down heavily at the table.
‘Mr Foster has offered me a job.’
‘And you’re upset that a millionaire has offered you a job! That’s brilliant. What is it?’