Chapter 2

It was with surprisingly mixed feelings that I left that side ward, which had become my little world for the last three days. I thought I would make my way down towards the hospital café for a much-needed coffee before coming back to collect Dad’s effects and then walk down to the hotel. I planned to check out immediately and move into Dad’s house, to start sorting out what to keep and what to clear. I wanted to be kept busy until Mum, Bobby and probably his partner Jonathan showed up for the funeral. I wasn’t sure if Dad still had a car at home. If he had, I would need to sort out the insurance and change of ownership, unless of course it was owned by the garage. That was another job to do: let the garage staff know about Dad’s passing. I hadn’t seen anyone from the business visiting him in hospital, so I assumed they weren’t even aware he was so ill.

As I approached the nurses’ station I noticed that the day staff had completely taken over from the night nurses, who had already left, to sleep in the comfort of their homes, while I had dozed the night away in the chair. I would have liked to have seen nurse Mary before I left.

There was another nurse there I hadn’t seen before, an older one, in her late-thirties, early-forties I guessed. All the nurses I had seen so far appeared to be in their twenties. She had her coat over her arm, the straps of her bag over her shoulder and a carrier bag in one hand, so she looked like she was either just coming in or just going out. The other two nurses were embracing her in turn, whispering and looking tearful.

I was going to speak to them about my father and to pass on my thanks but didn’t want to interrupt them, after all it could wait until I came back after my coffee. As I passed them by, they hadn’t really noticed me as they were so engrossed in their own conversation. I was trying to ignore them, until I heard one nurse beg the older one to “Go home, Maureen” in a slightly more forceful tone than the rest of the conversation. That pricked up my ears.

I turned back to face them over the counter and cleared my throat. The nurses turned as one to attend to me in their usual professional manner.

“Sorry to hear about your loss, Mr Bird,” said one young nurse, sympathetically, before I could speak, “Your father was a real gentleman. We are going to miss him around here.”

“Thank you, thank you for comforting him through these last few weeks and days, I know he appreciated you all as I do very much.”

All three clucked like mother hens, their own mutual sadness pushed to the background as they switched their caring towards me in my moment of grief.

“I wanted to have a quiet word with you, Maureen, if that is all right?” I said to the older nurse.

“Er, yes of course,” she said, looking at the other two, before turning back to me, “It looks like I am not needed here today, anyway.”

“Would you care to join me for a tea or coffee?”

“I t’hink I could really do wit’h a cup o’ tea, Mr Bird,” she agreed, smiling at me for the first time. Another nurse with a charming Irish accent, I thought, much more pronounced than Mary’s hinted undertones.

“Call me Roger, please,” I said, “My father was always Mr Bird.”

“Not while he was here, Roger, he was simply Frank to us, a wonderful old gentleman. We all loved him. That’s why we kept him here with us until the end,” she lowered her voice as we walked together through the door exiting her section, “Some of the other wards are less, well, just less prepared to look after their own, even unto the end.”

“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you particularly about.”

She looked up sharply, a frown on her face.

“No criticism,” I assured her, “I have nothing but praise for your wonderful staff. And I also need to thank you for allowing me day and night access, it has meant everything both to me and my father.”

Maureen smiled again. I thought she looked a very handsome woman, now that she allowed a smile to decorate her face. She had one of those faces that had a natural propensity to be cheerful, with large clear blue eyes, a fresh face with rosy cheeks and subtle freckles, with no hint of make-up. She was quite short about five-two or -three, to my five-eleven, and equally petite in build. Her thick hair was fair, with subtle hints of grey in it and kept quite short and neat. She was a very natural and beautiful rose. I lost track of my thoughts somewhat and I think I repeated myself nervously.

“I just wanted to thank you for the visitor’s pass and what I think of your marvellous nurses,” I gushed as we walked down two flights of stairs to the reception area where the café was situated.

I wasn’t used to speaking to pretty nurses that weren’t young enough to be granddaughters. I couldn’t fail to notice that Maureen wore a set of wedding and engagement rings, so she was clearly spoken for, not that I had any intentions in that direction, despite the increasing awareness of my loneliness. I certainly didn’t wish to complicate my life at this transitional point. Right now I was a stranger in a strange land. If I was going to stay here and work at my father’s business, I would have a considerable amount of adjusting to do, long before I could even think about introducing anything or anyone more important into my life.

Just as we reached the final few steps of the stairs, I checked with Maureen what type of tea she preferred. A breakfast tea would be perfect, she replied and pointed out the far corner of the restaurant where she would find a seat for us. I grabbed a tray and got in line. I glanced over in her direction while I was waiting to be served and one of the doctors, who I had seen on the morning rounds a day or so earlier, was cuddling Maureen. They sure were really friendly in this hospital.

I took the tray of drinks to the table in the corner. It was right next to a small garden that I’d never seen before. I was amazed it was sunny out and ... actually warm in the sun shining through the window, Spring was here at last. I might finally start to feel comfortable back in my native environment.

She was holding and reading a nameplate in her hand as I approached the table. She looked up and smiled when I sat down and she popped the nameplate into the carrier bag resting in her lap and put it on the floor, before she helped empty the tray contents onto our table.

“It is very nice over this side of the restaurant, overlooking the garden, I hadn’t ventured this far over before,” I commented as I sat down, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I was wondering why everyone keeps coming up and comforting you.”

“My daughter Rosemary died just three nights ago,” she replied slowly. “it was a shock and I am still coming to terms with it.”

She looked up from her cup to look me in the eye, her eyes were watery. I held her hands across the table.

“I’m so sorry, Maureen, I knew that something really terrible must’ve happened. Would you rather I leave or do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know, Roger, for your loss, not the other way around,” she smiled wanly, a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. We released our hands as I took a paper tissue out of my pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed away at her cheek as she nodded her thanks.