by Albert Able
I rolled her into the covers making sure she was comfortable before picking up the telephone and calling Marcus. “It’s Louisa, she is seriously ill I think we should call an ambulance.”
Marcus didn’t hesitate and called the ambulance immediately. Louisa was whisked away to hospital within the twenty minutes.
By telling the paramedic that I was her sister I was able to accompany her in the ambulance and stay with her in the hospital where she was initially abandoned in a queue of other patients.
When I tried to get someone to attend to her I was told to wait my turn. “But this is an emergency!” I kept insisting. Eventually a nurse approached with a clipboard and seemed to take pity on us.
“Okay so what’s her name?” She asked with a tired smile; she had been on duty for ten hours.
“Louisa Teixiera and you should have some record of her, her last visit about six months ago.” I persisted.
The nurse scribbled down the information. “Just wait a minute please I’ll look it up.” She scurried to the little office.
Eventually a white-coated Doctor appeared. “You say you are Miss Texiera’s sister?” The Doctor scanned some notes.
I nodded trying to avoid a direct lie. “Hm.” The Doctor looked up. “Seems she didn’t return for the test results and we didn’t get a reply from the reminders,” he looked up creasing his brow “has she moved to a new address?”
“Yes she lives at the Three Towers Hotel now.”
“I’m really sorry about that, we have no record of that, you see we needed to get in touch with her urgently,” the Doctor lowered the notes and looked directly at me “I’m afraid Louisa has Leukaemia.”
It hit me like punch in the stomach. “Does she know?” I managed to say.
“She does now; I have also told her that we are going to have to start her on some very unpleasant treatment” The Doctor lowered the notes again “I haven’t told Louisa yet but I have to tell you because she is going to need a lot of support; the truth is, she has almost certainly left it too late for any hope of a cure.”
My hand went to my mouth, I wanted to run away and hide; suddenly I had unintentionally become an inseparable part of someone’s private life, probably even worse, her death. I had experienced many things but this was something unexplainable. I needed to get to Marcus; he would know what to do.
The Doctor seemed to be waiting for me to say something. “Are you alright?” He asked me gently.
I sighed through my hand “I had no idea” was all I could say.
“I’m, going to have to talk with her she will be as shocked as you so I suggest that when I leave the room you go to her she will need you more that anything.”
I went to Louisa’s bedside as the Doctor left. We fell into each other’s arms; Louisa sobbed uncontrollably all I could do was hug her; there were no suitable words.
Over the next few weeks Louisa was given an intensive course of chemotherapy. Unless you have endured it yourself the agony is difficult to describe as the chemicals raked through her young body but she was incredibly brave and tolerated the treatment remarkably well, in fact at one point the normally dubious Doctor hinted at a possible improvement in her condition.
The euphoria of hope however was soon dashed when a few days later a woman from the hospital’s welfare department called to see me at the hotel.
“Mrs Detori we have a rather difficult situation regarding Louisa Teixiera.”
To my intense surprise it turned out that Louisa’s work permit had only been seasonal and had expired over a year ago; somehow we had genuinely omitted to renew it.
“But that is not the problem as far as we are concerned,” the welfare lady looked saddened “the real problem is that Louisa’s condition is worsening and has now been formally diagnosed as terminal,” the woman reached across and placed a compassionate hand on mine “I’m so sorry to have to bring this news; she only has about six months” she continued to hold my hand firmly “I believe Louisa should return to her family as soon as possible.”
I could hardly breath, it was hard to accept; yet deep down in spite the false hope of the last few days, I had always known that this moment would come but that didn’t make it any easier. “Is there nothing else to be done?” I asked meekly.
The woman simply gripped my hand again. “I’m sorry.” She squeezed encouragement. “Louisa must go home.”
Two days later the women from welfare appeared at the hotel accompanied by Louisa, she had come to say goodbye.
“I am going home to be with my little boy.” Louisa smiled happily. “It will be my first holiday since I came to England,” tears filled her eyes as she fell into my arms “I just wish I could stay here with you all” she whispered close to my ear.
Marcus appeared from his office and immediately realised what was happening. “Why don’t we go to Madeira to see you?” He encouraged placing a supporting arm around us.
Louisa turned to Marcus. “That would be so wonderful if you could; Rui’s birthday is on the twenty-first of June and mine is on the twenty-fifth we could have a little party?” She let go of me and embraced Marcus. “I will wait for you.” She said as the tears rolled freely down her cheek.
Marcus held her gently as she kissed him on each cheek, I could see that he was also too emotional to speak as she pulled away.
“Okay so I go now.” Louisa assumed a look of determination and walked to the waiting taxi with the Social Worker; she turned and waving casually called out. “See you.”
We had never been to Madeira and so five months later Marcus and I found ourselves on the way to island to keep our promise to Louisa and to take a holiday at the same time.
Whilst we had kept in touch with Louisa through occasional telephone calls she never mentioned her deteriorating condition other than to say she was managing very well. So we were quite alarmed when a couple of days before we left England we received a call from the Doctor treating Louisa in Madeira to advise us that she had been admitted to hospital in Funchal.
On our arrival in Madeira we checked into our hotel and went straight to the hospital; it was the twenty-first of June.
We entered the ward with some trepidation fearing that we may not recognise Louisa; how could we have had such little faith, I scolded myself, when we found her sitting up in bed looking like a Princess holding court; surrounded by four young adults with several children quietly playing some kind of question and answer game nearby.
Louisa looked up as we approached, her face lit up, a heart-warming smile glowing from her angelic face.
Marcus held back but I carefully leaned across the bed and gently embraced her.
“Thank you” she whispered “I’ve been waiting for this moment”
Then Marcus followed and kissed her on each cheek. “I told you we’d be here for the birthdays didn’t I,” he looked at her reassuringly “So which one is Rui?” Marcus stood up and looked towards the young children.
One of the other women called out. “Rui, over here.”
A small boy detached himself from the playgroup. “Yes?” he replied obediently but it was obvious that he was much more interested in the game.
Marcus waved the parcel at Rui, who recognised the gesture and his attention refocused on the gaily-wrapped gift immediately.
“For me?” his face lit up and grabbed at the gift.
“What do you say?” The same young woman scolded.
“Thank you” Rui intoned obediently as he set about tearing open the package.
The little battery-operated car was an instant success as Rui and one of the other young boys proceeded to scurry around the busy ward chasing the elusive toy car under the beds at the far end of the ward to the petulant screams of other patients and their visitors.
Louisa shrugged her shoulders and whispered something to one of the young women; that was when we realised she was having difficulty with speaking.
“I’m Louis’s sister” the woman who had scolded Rui intr
oduced herself. “Louisa has a sore throat today” she smiled back at her sister.
“Good to meet you.” Marcus smiled and turned back to Louisa, carefully took her pale slim hand in his, held it for a moment and then bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead.
Barely audibly she whispered painfully “I said I would wait, I knew you would come, thank you” and squeezed his hand.
Louisa face was a picture. It was impossible to believe she was so ill; the emotion welled up in my throat and tears filled my eyes.
“Don’t cry, I’ll see you all again soon.” She croaked and held her hand out to me.
I held her for a while and then stood up; suddenly I felt out of place and didn’t want to spoil this very personal family occasion.
“It’s been really nice to meet so many of your family but we will leave you alone today” I spoke to Louisa’s sister and waved a hand in the direction of the children “so you can enjoy Rui’s birthday and we’ll call in again tomorrow.” I waved.
Marcus placed Louisa hand carefully back on the bed and we walked out and away from the hospital in silence.
The following morning as we were about to leave the hotel bedroom for breakfast the telephone rang.
Marcus took the call; it was Louisa’s sister. “I’m afraid Louisa passed away in the night.” She sobbed.
Even when you know the inevitable is about to happen the actual moment comes as a terrible emotional shock. “Louisa’s died in the night.” Marcus looked at me in uttered disbelief and passed me the telephone.
I managed to commiserate with the sister and family and offered to assist with any arrangements if they wanted me to. She politely declined and said she would call us at the hotel when the funeral arrangements had been made.
We were both stunned by the tragic news; I suppose that somehow one can slip into a state of mind where reality temporarily eludes you. Louisa had looked so radiant the day before, it was hard to believe she had been so close to the end but now I realise that she knew and had almost certainly willed herself to survive Rui’s birthday.
Two days later we gathered with Louisa’s family and a host of friends at the church in the village where she was born and raised.
Louisa’s mother, in the belief that one day Louisa would find a man, settle down and raise a family, as she and her forebears had done, had lovingly made a wedding dress. Instead Louisa, dressed in the beautiful white gown, now lay asleep for all time.
Clearly confused by the occasion Rui stood close by, holding his auntie’s hand as the congregation filed respectfully passed, some placing flowers in the open coffin.
Several friends moved forward and gave sombre eulogies of Louisa’s short young life. It should have been her twenty-first birthday.
Eventually the service was concluded; we paid our final respects to the family and drifted quietly away.
All that was thirty years ago and every year we still visit Madeira for a winter holiday and always make the pilgrimage to that little church to say hello to our lovely friend.
Traditionally the family had placed a picture of Louisa on her grave, unfortunately that has faded now; happily our memories of that determined young lady can never fade away and so will remain with us forever.
Chapter 30 - Connie
Marcus and I spend most of our work and leisure time together, we always have and I suspect always will. Any way the point is, that having seen so many married couples sitting in restaurants in painful bored silence, with perhaps the occasional brief sentence followed by a monosyllable reply; to avoid a similar situation ourselves, we have this simple rule. We call it ‘The Three Bears’ rule, so that if ever we run out of conversation we tell the story of ‘The Three Bears’.
In practice we reminisce and recall some of the moments we are about to tell you about now. It never fails to keeps us laughing and chatting like newly weds. You might want to try it.
To give you an idea of what I mean hear are just a few of these little gems from our abundant repertoire.
******
In the early hours of one morning the night porter at one of the hotels was dozing in his chair behind the reception desk and was woken by an urgent taping on the counter. As the porter looked up the tapping stopped.
“Help me please,” The embarrassed voice appealed in an urgent whisper.
Aroused from his slumber the porter jumped up guiltily to confront the voice and was astonished to find a completely naked man facing him from behind the counter; attempting to hide his embarrassment he was holding his hands cupped over his manhood.
“Room 309” the man smiled weakly “I’m afraid I locked myself out!”
Sleeping alone he had woken to attend to a call of nature. Rather than turn on the bedroom light, he thought he could easily see his way from the light of streetlamp sneaking into the room through the curtains and so headed to what he presumed was the bathroom door.
The corridor lights in that hotel operated on a pressure switch, designed to save energy and overheads. So when the half-asleep man opened the door the corridor was in darkness. Undeterred he stepped forward groping for the light and the bedroom door closed behind him.
Imagine his reaction when he finally found the switch and discovered himself; now fully awake standing completely naked in the corridor.
Although initially alarmed at his predicament he chuckled at his error and tried to return to the bedroom; the door however had closed and locked with the key sitting safely on the dressing table.
There were no house phones on the corridors and so the poor man had no choice but to go down to reception to seek the assistance of the night porter who apparently immediately removed his own coat and gave it to the squirming goose-pimpled guest before escorting him back to his room.
I understand the porter earned a significant gratuity for his gallant services.
******
As you probably know hotels are obliged to carry public liability insurance with a minimum cover for lost or stolen protection for its hotel guests. There is a mandatory limit to this cover, which at the time I refer to was something like three hundred pounds.
Unsurprisingly there were regular claims against the hotels for lost or allegedly stolen items and these claims were usually for property valued just within the statutory limit.
Most frequently it involved somewhat forgetful elderly ladies, pretending to have lost or had stolen a brooch or other modest item of jewellery, reasoning. “It’s not the two hundred and seventy-five pounds that it cost you understand; it’s the sentimental value.”
I always took these claims seriously because they may of course have been genuine which implied, that a member of our hotel staff could be guilty of the theft.
My usual response to a claim was to immediately invite the guest to my office where I would start by saying. “I’m really sorry this should have happened and it is important that we find the thief as quickly as possible so I must call the police in the first instance, I assume you agree?”
With only a very few exceptions the guest would immediately say. “Do we really need to call them; perhaps we can keep it in-house, not to make too much fuss?”
“Perhaps you’re right,” then I’d say something like “maybe if I were to help you look through your things again, just to be sure, before we call the police?”
They always agreed and we almost always found the elusive brooch or whatever, wrapped in a stocking or at the bottom of a handbag.
The embarrassed typical response “Oh how careless of me; you must think I’m a such a silly old fool?”
I never understood how anyone ever thought that we were going to simply hand over the cash. In fact in all the years I was personally involved in the business, I never actually lost anyone’s precious property although I did on two occasions find that a member of staff had stolen an item of property and in both cases we were able to return the items to their rightful owners.
******
This next little tale is ano
ther example of one such hopeful claim.
It seemed that the elderly gentleman in room 109 had an appetite for young male excitement and sensing a common desire he had persuaded the attractive young Portuguese Hall Porter, to visit his bedroom.
Whether the porter actually helped himself to the gold bracelet or if it was given to him for services rendered, I never actually found out but I first became involved in the incident when I discovered the elderly man standing in reception ranting and raving at the unfortunate receptionist.
“This hotel is a den of iniquity,” the man challenged her and several other passing guests “nothing is safe in your own room here” he gesticulated wildly trying to solicit support.
The guests however looked away in embarrassment and he turned his attention to me. “So what do you intend to do?” He challenged loudly.
“We’ll have to start by looking into the situation.” Trying my charm tactic I gave him one of my sugary smiles.
“Look into it, look into it. I want my property back and I want it now!” The irate man shouted, his face florid with anger.
“Perhaps you could come to my office where I can get all the details.” I switched to my standard approach but it had no impact on the man either who continued in a loud voice persisting that his security had been violated and claiming to be incensed by the fact no one appeared to be taking any interest; he demanded immediate compensation for the loss of his valuable gold bracelet; valued coincidentally at three hundred pounds.
The man I learned was a high profile senior member of one of the Nation’s major TV Channels, which was currently holding a seminar at the hotel; he was also a leading character with the big spending group in the bar and restaurant.
It might therefore have been tempting to credit him with the three hundred pounds against his hotel bill he was claiming, just to shut him up.