Room 119

by T F Lince

  “I must have heard you call him Mr Thompson when I was in my coma.” That was the best he could come up with, but Darren seemed to buy it, even though it didn’t explain the Mr Thompson being ready to go bit. That was going to be a tricky one; Dean would struggle to get away with it. Luckily, Darren was too busy to question him further. He went off to see Mrs Thompson in the family room.

  “What happened to you, Dean?” Sarah asked. “How could you possibly know that he was ready to go? Was it because the same thing happened to you?”

  Dean looked at Sarah, confused.

  “You died, just like Mr Thompson. It was five minutes – five minutes, Dean, then your heart started again on its own.”

  Dean immediately thought of Cockfield Station.

  “Did they zap me with the…er…zappers?”

  “Yes, five or six times at least.”

  Dean remembered the lightning knocking him to his knees and the further blows after that.

  “I thought so. Come here, Jodie, give me a hug.”

  As Jodie ran over to him, a tearful Mrs Thompson appeared from the family room. She was a frail old lady with grey hair, wearing a long skirt and a light blue cardigan. Darren had allowed her to sit with her husband before his body was taken away to the morgue, and she disappeared behind the curtain, weeping and wailing.

  Dean looked at her as she passed, trying to work out how he could speak to such a distressed woman. She must have really loved him, and he knew Mr Thompson had loved her.

  After thirty minutes or so, Darren came back and told Sarah and Jodie that Dean needed some rest. Dean was nodding in and out of consciousness due to the ordeal he had been through, but he was trying to stay awake to fulfil his promise to Mr Thompson.

  “Is Mrs Thompson still there with him?” Dean asked Sarah, looking towards the curtain around the next bed.

  “Yes, and his daughters are there, too, by the looks of things. It’s so sad, Dean.”

  Dean hadn’t seen them arrive; he must have nodded off. Now he could hear them all talking behind the curtain. There was the odd trembling cry from the mother and her daughters as reality hit home that Mr Thompson had gone from their lives.

  “Sarah, can you do me a favour?” Dean asked. “I have something I need to tell Mrs Thompson about her husband.”

  Sarah was so pleased to see Dean back, more than he could imagine, but it didn’t stop her throwing a ‘seriously?’ stare in his direction.

  “Dean, you have just come out of a coma after five months, they have just lost their father and husband. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I know it seems odd, Sarah, but you’ll see why. Please get Mrs Thompson for me.” He paused and looked at Sarah. “She’s called Harriet.”

  “How do you know she’s called Harriet?”

  “I can’t explain right now, but I have a message for her.”

  “OK, Dean, but what if she is not called Harriet?”

  “What if she is?”

  Sarah looked at the curtain. She could hear the sobbing and might just be about to make a fool of herself. Even worse, she was going to interrupt their grieving with some gobbledygook from her husband, maybe making them feel even worse, if that were possible. She gave Dean a ‘you’d better be right, Mister’ look. Dean had missed those looks; he had forgotten how much he loved them.

  Sarah, trusting her husband fully, walked over to Mr Thompson’s curtain. She could see the mother and her two daughters hugging.

  “We’ll get through this, Mum,” one of the daughters was saying. “We will find the money for the funeral and the house, don’t worry. It will be a struggle, but we’ll all pull together.”

  Mrs Thompson started weeping again. Sarah coughed. They turned to look at her. Mrs Thompson wiped away her tears, pulled her cardigan down and stood up a bit straighter.

  “Can I help you, dear?”

  Sarah was a very confident woman, but she felt the pressure of what she was about to do. Her heart said, “Let them grieve”; her mind said, “Dean knew her name; he must know something.”

  “I am sorry, Mrs Thompson, but my husband thinks he knows you. He would like a quick word.”

  “I don’t think I do know him, dear, you must be mistaken. I see he has woken up, though. I’m very pleased for you.”

  Mrs Thompson looked at her husband lying on the bed with no life left to give.

  “You’re very lucky still to have him, dear.”

  Sarah felt awful.

  “I am very sorry to have bothered you, Mrs Thompson – it’s Harriet, isn’t it? My husband said you were called Harriet.”

  “How did he know I’m called Harriet?”

  Sarah looked at Mrs Thompson. “I really don’t know, I promise. He said he has a message for you.”

  Mrs Thompson followed Sarah to Dean’s bedside. Her daughters came too, not looking best pleased with Sarah’s interruption.

  “Your name, sir? You seem to know mine?”

  Dean smiled.

  “Hello, Mrs Thompson, I’m Dean Harrison.”

  She did not change her facial expression.

  “Your wife tells me you’re a friend of my husband’s. Does he owe you money? He seems to have lost everything we had since he’s been ill, gambling it all away.”

  One of her daughters put her hand on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Mum, this is not the time or place.”

  Mrs Thompson folded her arms; she meant business. Dean was going to have to come up with something good.

  “I met him yesterday and he told me to tell you that he was in no pain and would wait for you forever.”

  Dean did his best to sit up a little.

  “I don’t believe any of this hocus pocus! My husband was lying right here yesterday, Mr Harrison, and if it hasn’t escaped your attention, so were you.” She shook her head in sheer disgust. “And as for you, dear…”

  Sarah lowered her head and looked at Dean. Mrs Thompson went to walk back to her husband and her daughters followed, giving Dean and Sarah the same look their mother had.

  Dean sat up a little more.

  “Harriet, he said you were a bit feisty and wouldn’t believe me.” Mrs Thompson stopped. Her husband had always used the word ‘feisty’ whenever she was in a mood. It was like their ceasefire keyword.

  “Have you still got the 1962 penny in your bag that your dad gave you on your wedding day?”

  Mrs Thompson turned around with a startled look on her face. She looked in her bag and took out the coin, then slowly walked towards Dean and took his hand.

  “What did he say?”

  “OK, let me get this right.” Dean looked into Mrs Thompson’s eyes. “Right, it’s the first time he has not been in pain for five years. He also said he will wait for you forever. He is OK, and you don’t have to worry.” She gripped his hand tighter. Dean continued, “Oh, and he’s been saving for the five years he’s been ill. All the details are in a black box under the bed in the spare room.”

  Mrs Thompson smiled at Dean. “I knew he wouldn’t leave us with nothing. Thank you, Dean – did he say anything else?”

  “Only that you thought he was betting on the horses all that time.”

  She thanked him again and gave Sarah a hug.

  “I’m so pleased he has no pain now. He’s been in a lot of pain. Thank you for passing the message on.”

  Mrs Thompson went back behind the curtain followed by her daughters. Sarah eyed Dean up for an explanation.

  “Another time, Sarah, I promise.”

  Just then, Mr Thompson appeared at the end of the bed dressed in a black suit ready for the ferry. By his side was Death, who tilted his head and tipped his hat in Dean’s direction. Mr Thompson mouthed, “Thank you,” to Dean as he and Death followed the rest of his family behind the curtain. Dean assumed this was Mr Thompson’s last wish coming true.

  “I’m so proud of you, Dean,” said Sarah. “Now get some rest. Jodie and I will be back tomorrow.”

  �
�What if I don’t wake up again?” Dean said anxiously through a yawn.

  “You will, Dean. I’m never letting you go again.”

  Chapter 38 – Sixty-two Million Reasons to Get Better

  Over the next couple of weeks, Dean got better and better. Sarah visited every day, usually with Jodie in tow. They all knew something strange had gone on while Dean had been in a coma, but now he was on the mend, it would all come out in good time. So the elephant could stay in the room as long as he sat in the corner and promised not to cause a fuss.

  Jack also visited every day without fail and talked about anything but work. He and Dean talked about the car crash and the night in the strip club, and Dean even told Jack a little bit about Beachy Head, but nothing was said about work. Dean knew Jack was keeping something back, and the day eventually came when he had had enough. Today was the day that was going to change.

  Jack turned up with another bowl of fruit for Dean, already talking as he walked in.

  “Make sure you eat your fruit, Yorkie, you need strength, remember?”

  By this time, Dean had been moved to a normal ward.

  “Hi, Jack. Put it on the side with the rest.” There was more fruit on Dean’s table than he could eat in a week. “Right, I think they are going to let me go home next week. I’ve been doing physio every day and they are pleased with my progress. They say the word ‘miracle’ a lot, so I guess I’ve been very lucky.”

  Jack sat down.

  “Dean, you were a right mess. I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “So, Jack, I know you have been avoiding the subject, but…”

  “I have brought you a crossword book…”

  “Jack, cut the bullshit.”

  Jack took the crossword book out of a plastic bag. “It’s not bullshit, look.”

  “Jack, you have been in every day since I woke up, and Sarah tells me you have been every day since my accident. I’m sure Dexter won’t be happy about you having all that time off work, especially for me. He must hate me. So, what the fuck is going on?”

  Jack thumbed through the crossword book.

  “It has quiz words in it as well. Remember when we used to do those at work, Yorkie, back in the day, eh?”

  “Jack, you’ve left work, haven’t you? Did they fire you?”

  Jack threw the crossword book onto the table.

  “I took a pay-off, Yorkie. You lost a lot of money; there had to be casualties. And to be honest, it’s the best thing I ever did.” Jack gave Dean a smile; he meant it. “Holly and I have enough money, and Dexter made sure I was OK.”

  Dean put his head down. “Sorry, Jack. How many others?”

  “It was all voluntary, Yorkie. No one was made to go. It was mainly the dinosaurs like me and you. No one blames you, Dean. Oliver more or less took the rap, admitting he spiked your drink and didn’t pass on that call, but at the end of the day, it was your trade and it was not authorised.”

  Dean shook his head.

  “It was authorised, Jack, you know that, although that doesn’t excuse what happened. I got in too deep, took my eye off the ball. How is that prick Oliver, anyway?”

  “Yorkie, you’re still deep in the shit, you know. Dexter has settled on a hundred million, but you lost more than that. That’s the best I could do for you.”

  “Wow, a hundred million.”

  “Actually, just over sixty-two million now.” Dean gave Jack a confused look. “Your apartment went for twelve million. I know it was worth more than that, but we had to get them off your back, Yorkie.”

  Dean did the maths in a heartbeat.

  “So what about the other twenty-six million that has disappeared from the debt? Are they after the house?”

  Jack laughed.

  “Even Dexter wouldn’t do that. I think he wants you back to work it off.”

  “What, like going out for a meal and offering to do the washing up?”

  “Fucking lot of washing up, that, Yorkie.”

  They both laughed.

  “So sixty-two million off the debt. I must have a guardian angel.”

  “I wouldn’t call them angels. Trading is probably the most cut-throat business there is, but when one of our own gets fucked over, we can still find a heart beating somewhere deep inside our titanium bodies.” Jack paused. “You can thank your best mate Oliver for that – twenty-five per cent of everyone’s bonus is going on your debt. He’s slipped into your office as top dog and is on a mission to pay off your debt. The rest of the lads all agreed, but they have been dining out on your bonuses for about fifteen years, Yorkie, so they owed you that much.”

  Dean let out another “Wow” then added, “Can you thank them, Jack, and how much does Sarah know?”

  Jack’s eyes refocused on Dean’s.

  “She knows the lot. I didn’t think it was a good time to try and wing this one, Yorkie.”

  “Good. No more secrets – that’s how I got into this mess. Bloody Barcelona!”

  “Oh, I told her about that, too, and showed her my credit card bill. Holly went fucking mad with me so I think we all learned a lesson on that one…”

  “You told your Holly? I bet she went bonkers. I’ve got a lot of making up to do, haven’t I?”

  Jack grinned at Dean.

  “I don’t think you can be blamed for Barcelona, Yorkie. That was a joint effort.”

  “Thank them, though, Jack – sixty-two million. Christ! Tell the boys to keep their bonuses, they have done more than enough, and thank Oliver, will you? Tell him I’m OK with it. It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it. Can you do me another favour, though, Jack?” Dean grabbed the puzzle book and took a pen from the table. “I need a portfolio put together on this guy. Please find out what you can…” Dean wrote the name Hugo Hodgkinson on the puzzle book “…and keep it quiet in the office.” Dean stopped. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t have an office. You sure you’re going to be OK?”

  Jack nodded and looked at the name.

  “Hugo Hodgkinson? I’ve heard of him. Don’t know where from, though.” Jack thought about asking why Dean wanted to know but thought better of going through with the question. He would find out what he could either way; maybe not knowing right now was a good thing.

  “OK, Yorkie, I’d better get back to my life of leisure.” Jack stood up and gave Dean a handshake that morphed into a man hug. “Look after yourself, Yorkie,” Jack whispered into Dean’s ear as the man hug lasted a little longer than they were both anticipating, It eventually gave way to a more manly punch on the shoulder.

  “Bye, Jack, and thanks for everything.”

  It was a clear autumn day, not a cloud in the sky. Sarah and Jodie left for the hospital with an empty case ready to put Dean’s things in and a big bouquet of flowers for the ward staff. He was coming home today, two weeks after he’d woken up and a lot earlier than anyone had expected. Sarah and Jodie were playing music in the car, both joining in with Robbie Williams’s ‘Angels’.

  They arrived at the hospital with a bounce in their step as they made their way to the ward.

  “Come on, Jodie, it’s home time.”

  “I can’t wait to get Dad home, Mum.”

  Sarah stopped in the corridor and gave Jodie a big hug.

  “Me too, Jodie, me too.”

  Dean was dressed already in jeans and a tee shirt that Sarah had brought in for him last night. Jodie ran over to her dad who stood up to greet her and receive her hugs.

  Sarah joined in the team hug. “Are you ready to come home, Mr Harrison?”

  “Thank you so much, you two, I could not have done this without you. You mean the world to me.” As Darren entered the room, Dean added, “Thanks, Darren.”

  Dean held out his hand and shook Darren’s with a proper northern grip, putting his left hand on top of their clasped hands.

  “Thanks, Dean, and you think about what I said.” Darren looked in Sarah’s direction and added a knowing nod.

  “I will, Darren.”

&
nbsp; Sarah gave Darren a kiss on his cheek. “What was that about?”

  “Just a little agreement I have with Dean.” Darren winked at Dean, who nodded back at him.

  “Boys will be boys! Seriously, what are you two up to?”

  Darren and Dean looked at each other.

  “Nothing for nosey, Sarah,” Dean said to break the silence.

  Sarah, not wanting to pursue her line of enquiries, gave the flowers to Darren. “These are for the nurses. I was going to get some fruit, but there was none left in the shop. Jack had bought it all.”

  Dean thanked Darren again and gave the nurses at the main desk a hug.

  “OK, I’m ready.”

  Dean, Sarah and Jodie left the ward, Dean walking backwards and waving as they made their way out of the door.

  As they arrived at the car, Dean got in the front and Jodie put his case in the boot. Sarah sat in the driving seat and put her hand on Dean’s knee. “So glad you came back to us, Dean.”

  She looked more beautiful than ever.

  “Is it bin day today, Sarah?”

  “I was expecting something a bit more romantic, Dean, but as you asked, yes, it is bin day.”

  As they entered the street, Dean could see the bin wagon at the top of the street. The drive of the house he hadn’t seen for nearly six months was more or less full of a welcoming committee. Sarah went to park on the side of the road.

  “Sarah, can you squeeze it on the drive?”

  Sarah looked at Dean.

  “There is no room.”

  “Please, Sarah. You can squeeze onto the drive for me, please.”

  “OK, Parker, but you’re going to be a nightmare to drive around. On the drive it is.”

  She squeezed past Jack’s car to the back of the drive. The bin wagon had already passed their house. Dean watched it and made sure that it was out of sight before he could relax. They were in the clear.

  They entered through the kitchen to a chorus of, “Surprise! Welcome home!” The kitchen was full of Dean’s family and friends. Sarah’s mother and father rushed over to him.

  “Welcome back, Dean.”

  Dean embraced Sarah’s mother and shook her dad’s hand before making his way around the room. Some of the girls from the gym were there, as well as Jack and a couple of the boys from work, including Martin and Oliver.