Charlotte Betts

             

The sound of their voices ebbed and flowed, floating over her like the gentle swell of the sea on a shallow beach. As if she was sunbathing, half-asleep on the sand, she heard snatches of conversation before drifting off again. In her half-unconscious world she knew that they had gathered, watching and waiting for her to die.

She was barely more than a husk. Her frail old body lay motionless on the bed, dressed in a white cotton nightgown. Her long silver hair, released from its customary chignon, had been carefully brushed and fanned out over the pillows. It’s a wonder that they haven’t folded my arms over my bosoms and stuck a lily in my hands, she thought in a lucid moment, just to save time later on.

Big Brenda’s heavy footsteps came juddering across the floor and then there was silence for a while, except for her stertorous breathing.

 “Two weeks now!” said Brenda, flopping her not inconsiderable bulk onto the delicate little chair beside the bed and sending the brass bed knobs rattling. Oh, how they did rattle in those days, thought the old lady. Arthur and I certainly knew how to make the bed knobs rattle! Such fun, such laughter we had in this old bed. Four children conceived in it and three of them born in it. And, more recently, my beloved Arthur passed away in it. And so shall I, very soon.

“Two weeks since anything solid passed her lips. Just look at her! She’s almost transparent. Surely Mother can’t go on like this much longer?” asked Brenda, hopefully. An answering hum of agreement rose from those waiting around the bedside. Brenda leaned back in the little chair and it creaked ominously. The old lady suppressed an expression of irritation, remembering how Brenda had always been clumsy and turned her concentration back to the business of dying.

“Just turned her face to the wall after Arthur passed over,” said Elsie, the next door neighbour. “Very close they were. Always saw them going out to do their bit of shopping together, like as not holding hands, too. Imagine! At their age!”

“There’s nothing really wrong with her,” said her son, Eric to his sisters. “The doctor says she’s just lost the will to live.” He sighed. “I can’t stay here much longer. Important matters to attend to at the office.”  What could be more important than a parent’s death, wondered the old lady, floating gently away on another wave.

Night followed day, as it does, only recognisable to her by the changing pattern of light. Her visitors came and went. She became almost conscious when she heard her granddaughter, Isobel, whispering words of love close into her ear.

“Don’t worry, Great-Granny May, Great-Grandpa will be waiting for you when you get there. I’m going to really miss you,” she sobbed, “There are so many things we haven’t done together yet. You never finished telling me all the stories of when you were young.” She wrapped her slim, fourteen-year old arms tightly around her Great-Granny’s neck and was wracked in paroxysms of grief at the imminent loss of something she hadn’t even realised she’d valued. Strong arms pulled her away and the air was full of tuts.

“Disgraceful behaviour!” tutted the scandalised voice of May’s daughter, Jean. “Can’t you leave the poor old body to die in peace?”

“Don’t say that!” commanded Isobel, “How do you know she can’t hear you? She ought to know I love her.” And I do, thought May. I wish we’d had more time together, too.

The doctor came and prodded her and pulled at her nightgown, taking liberties with her dignity that she’d never have allowed before. He pronounced impending release for the watchers and the waiters.

“It’s incredible how long some of these old people can cling on but it won’t be very long now,” he said importantly, while they hung on his every word. Some of the visitors became bored with waiting and went home. The mists descended again.

Later, she dreamed she was drinking cool water from a stream and it seemed so real that she slipped the tip of her tongue out of her mouth to catch the precious drops.

“That’s better,” said a soothing, familiar voice beside her. A cool hand smoothed the hair from her forehead and another trickle of water ran into the corner of her mouth. “Try a little more. I know just how you feel. I was the same after Earl went.” Of course! thought May. It’s my sister, June. Must be thirty yeas since I’ve seen her!

“I was on my way to visit you at the end of my round the world cruise,” said June, “It was meant to be a wonderful surprise. When I arrived, it was to be told that you’d buried Arthur last month and you were dying yourself. The shock of it! And now I sit here looking down at you and it’s like staring at myself dying. I’d forgotten how very alike we are.” June gave a small laugh. “Do you remember how we used to play up to our twinhood? The only difference between us was that we parted our hair on opposite sides. Thought we looked like Veronica Lake! We led the boys a merry dance, didn’t we? The Wallis twins dressed up for an evening out! Wasn’t that a sight!”

Another trickle of water ran into the corner of May’s mouth and she had to force herself not to lap at it. She’d never die if she started drinking water again.

She remembered the summer dance where she had first met Arthur. She and June had made new blue dresses, recycled from the old parlour curtains with the worn bits cut out. Arthur and his friend had come and asked them to dance.

“Why are you called May and your sister June?” Arthur asked as he whirled her around the floor.

“Because we were born in different months.”

Arthur had looked puzzled. “But I thought you were twins?”

“We are. I was born at ten to midnight on May the thirty-first and June was born at ten past, so she has a June birthday. It was Mother’s idea of a joke.”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed and May remembered how strong and vital he had looked. Not long after that, June had met and married her GI and been transported to the United States of America. How they had missed each other, in spite of the two reunions.

“Oh May, how can you die now? There’s so much to catch up on,” sobbed June, “I wanted to come home to England to live. I don’t want to be buried in America. Without Earl, I can’t be there. And the children are scattered all over the world. I’d been going to ask you if I could buy a little house nearby. We could have set up home together, now that Arthur has passed away. Please try and get better.”

May, unable to bear the distress in her twin’s voice, let herself float away again on a raft of oblivion.

She felt someone stroking her hand.

“Hello, my dear,” a voice whispered. “It’s Walter. Thought I’d come and sit with you for a while. Managed to get rid of your retinue, so I’ve got you to myself for a bit. It might be the last time and I can hardly bear it.” He sighed heavily. “I do know what you’re going through; thought I’d never get over it when my Iris died. But you, and Arthur of course, were so kind and patient with me. I think that’s when I fell in love with you.”

The ancient chair creaked as Walter leaned over the bed and kissed May chastely on the forehead. “And then Arthur said to me, one evening when we were having a quiet pint in the Dog and Ferret, ‘Walter,’ he says, ‘I’ve seen how you look at my May and I know you’re an honourable man. I want you to promise me that you’ll look after her if my time comes first.’ What could I do? I was embarrassed that he knew how I felt about you but it would have been one of the greatest joys of my life to have been able to look after you and share our last years.”

It grew dark and May heard no more.

She was being propelled at great speed along a pitch-dark corridor with a warm wind whooshing past. She didn’t feel frightened, only curious and strangely excited. In the blackness, far away, a pinpoint of light appeared, rushing towards her. A wave of euphoria broke over her as the light grew, until it encompassed her whole world, as bright as the sun rising on a summer’s day. She came to a gentle stop, as if arriving in a lift. She waited passively to see what would happen next. A figure, indistinct and haloed with the bright light behind it, appeared some distance away.

“May?”

“Arthur? Oh Arthur, is it really you?”

“May, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t bear it without you. I’ve come to join you.”

Arthur’s form moved a little closer. “My darling, you can’t.”

May felt her bottom lip quiver. “But I’m here now. I so want to come to you!”

“You will come to me, But now is not the time. It’s too soon. Go back and be happy. There are still good times ahead and I’ll be waiting here for you when it’s the right time.” Arthur’s voice was fading and the light dimming.

 May began to move backwards, the wind rushing in her ears again. In total blackness, tears streaming down her face, she held her arms, yearning, towards where she had last seen Arthur. Sobbing, she floated in limbo for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually, she began to relive the past few days in her mind. She remembered Isobel, holding her tight as if her life depended on it and thought that she’d have liked to spend some more time with her, talking about the past and guiding her to a happy future. Dear Elsie, from next door, she’d been a considerate neighbour and had been kind enough to step in and sit with her while she was dying. Not all neighbours would be bothered. Even Brenda had dragged herself away from the telly to keep the vigil. And how wonderful it would be to have June back in her life again; so many years to catch up on! Perhaps they could do themselves up in matching blue frocks and go dancing again? And Walter. That was a turn up for the books! She’d always liked Walter. She couldn’t imagine rattling the bed knobs with him but then, at their time of life, companionship was just as important. Perhaps Walter had a friend for June? They could still have some fun, all together, while they were waiting to be reunited with their loved ones.

All at once, May was on the move again. The darkness began to lift and with the sensation of being sucked down the plughole, she was thrust into the light. Blinking, she opened her eyes and found herself back in her brass bed.

“Mercy me!” exclaimed Brenda, seeing her inheritance retreating.

May struggled to sit up. Walter appeared and tenderly propped her up on the pillows. June brought a damp sponge to her mouth and May greedily sucked the precious moisture from it.

“I’m hungry,” she croaked. “What I really fancy is a nice boiled egg.”