Patrick Spiller was not the sort of man who had shaking hands. He was the sort of man who was total in control of his feelings; he had surgeon’s hands, nerves of steel. But as he tried to put the key in the lock he couldn’t. His hands shook so violently that the key wouldn’t fit in the keyhole. He felt like a traitor to her, like he was breaking into her flat. But still he carried on trying to get in. And still the key would not fit. After about five minutes of trying this Patrick gave up. He sat down and sighed loudly, letting the keys drop to the floor in front of him. He heard them clink loudly on the ground and when he looked down he saw not one key as he thought there was but two keys. He forced himself back up into a standing position and picked up the keys once more. He took a deep breath and tried the lock again, this time with the other key. To his surprise it fitted easily and the door swung open. Before he went in he looked back to see if there was anyone watching him make a fool of himself. There was no one there, but Patrick could have sworn that he heard Holly laughing at him.
“Pull yourself together.” Patrick hissed as he stepped into her flat.
It smelled of Holly. Her perfume, her shampoo, her food. As soon as Patrick stepped in he wanted to run away again but something was pushing him forward. He walked in to the living room, taking everything in around him. Usually the idea of her being cramped up, alone in this tiny house would turn his stomach but she’d made it so unique and homely that it was hard to imagine her being anything other than happy here. Her clothes, her books and generally just her were scattered left right and centre in the room. After a moment or two of snooping around he shook himself and reminded himself what he was here for. Slowly he turned from the living room and walked up the stairs towards her bedroom. The stairs creaked gently under his weight and every few seconds he would think that he heard someone walking behind him and he would turn quickly around, only to come face to face with no one and nearly fall down the stairs in the process. Any moment he expected her to turn up and tell him off for creeping around her house uninvited. But then it hit him that she wouldn’t be coming, she couldn’t even if she wanted to, she might never be able to tell him off again.
Patrick sat down on the bed, her bed, his head was spinning with thoughts of her. Her lying there so helpless in that hospital bed, it was all he could think of. He put his heads heavily in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, trying so hard to resist the overwhelming need to cry. When he finally did look up the sight he saw made him wish he hadn’t. Empty, half full and untouched bottles of many types of alcohol littered her floor; the bed he sat on was covered with crumpled and creased sheets and all her clothes lay scattered across the floor. When he looked behind him he saw a cat sitting behind him on the bed, eyeing him up suspiciously.
“It’s okay, I’m a friend of Holly’s.” Patrick said soothingly, before suddenly realising. “Oh my god, I’m talking to a cat! Now I’m talking to myself about talking to a cat.” He shook his head. “You’re loosing it Spiller.” Suddenly the cat sprang from the bed and onto Patrick’s lap. Patrick was slightly startled by this at first, he was not a cat person, in fact he wasn’t an animal person full stop but after a moments thought Patrick the person stroked Patrick the cat. Both of them unaware of their shared identity. They carried on this little ritual for a moment until Patrick (the cat) had worked out that Patrick was trustworthy. Then, just as quickly as he’d jumped onto Patrick’s lap, he jumped of again. He jumped off the bed and quickly scuttled underneath it where he proceeded to meow loudly for quite some time.
“Damn cat.” Patrick said as he got down on his hands and knees so he was at bed level. “He’s probably got himself stuck!” He announced as he reached one arm under the bed to try and rescue the cat. But it seemed every time Patrick got his hand anywhere near where the meowing was coming from the cat moved back. Eventually Patrick’s hand fell on to a large heavy book. Not wanting it to get in the way of him getting the cat out he pulled the book out from where it was resting. As he did he saw that it was a photo album, he was just about to get back to looking for the cat when he walked out from under the bed, as if nothing had happened. Patrick sighed, now he knew why he didn’t get along with animals. Patrick was just about to put the album down and go and pick up some of Holly’s clothes when suddenly the cat started meowing and scratching at Patrick’s leg where the album lay.
“Oh what do you want now, you annoying animal?” This time the cat scratched at the actual album and caused Patrick to quickly pull it up above cat-level to make sure that this animal didn’t damage any of Holly’s things, as he lifted it up a loose photo gently fluttered down and landed in Patrick’s lap. He looked down and saw a younger version of himself smiling back at him, arms wrapped happily around Holly, eyes smiling. He couldn’t help but grin at the memory that it brought back. Shyly he opened the book up and saw page upon page of him, of them, together, happy. With each photo he went back a stage into his past, remembering another faze of happiness he thought he’d forgotten long ago. Patrick the cat decided that it was time to leave this man alone with his memories, so with a satisfied grin on his face he went of to find dinner…
The phone bleeped loudly, causing Patrick to jump out of his skin and drop the book he was holding so tightly. ‘Skippy’ was flashing on the screen and he smiled but the happiness he felt at the thought of her left him feeling hollow compared to the joy he’d remembered a moment ago.
“What do you want Lara?” Patrick snapped as he answered the phone.
“I was just wondering when you were going to be back. A note on the table telling me you’ve gone to London isn’t really good enough.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Patrick said as he started to pick out clothes from Holly’s wardrobe.
“Well, why are you up there?”
“A friend of mine is ill.”
“How ill?”
“I don’t know! Stop asking questions.”
“Okay, but what’s wrong with him? I’ll be annoyed if you’ve left because one of your mates had some dodgy chicken or something.”
“It’s a she and she’s… she’s… she’s got a brain tumour.” There was a silence at the end of the line.
“I’m so sorry Patrick. How is she?”
“She’s…” Patrick stopped. He didn’t know how she was, he hadn’t seen her now for, he looked down at his watch, nearly two hours. She could be… “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later Lara. Bye.” He hung up the phone quickly and grabbed the few clothes he had and ran back towards his car. If anything had happened to her… He’d never forgive himself. Not now that he’d just realised what he wanted.
Part seven
“Mr. Spiller.” The nurse called softly in Patrick’s ear as he slept peacefully on the chair next to the bed. He didn’t stir so she shook him gently, calling his name again. “Mr. Spiller!” She called again, louder this time but still she got no response, he peacefully slept on, unknowing that he was making the doctor’s rounds late and getting her into trouble. “Patrick!” She yelled as he sleepily sat up and rubbed his tried eyes to try and make himself slightly awake.
“Holly?” He grunted in the manner that the nurse was now used to, after two days with Patrick you were used to everything about him.
“She’s fine.” The nurse replied soothingly as she guided him out of the room. “The doctors just want to have a quick check up on her, make sure that she’s making the progress that she should be making, as you know it’s been two days now…” The nurse faded out sadly, her eyes dropping to the ground. She didn’t want to have to remind him but she knew that he couldn’t go on living with this false hope. Everyone around here wanted the doctor to wake up, they knew what a loss it would be to the medical profession if she never helped another person again and now that most of the staff around here had got to know Patrick they wanted her to wake up all the more so that they could ride off into the sunset together, but now that she had had her two days, well…
“Five per cent.” Patrick muttered into the wall as he watched the doctors doing various tests on Holly.
“Sorry, what?” The nurse asked politely.
“There is only a five per cent chance that the woman lying in there will ever open her eyes again, ever speak to me, ever work again, ever smile…” He broke off, looking away to hide the tears forming in the back of his eyes. He kept telling himself he had to be strong, for Holly if no one else but right now it was so hard not to be scared.
“I’m… Sorry?” The nurse whispered as she put her hand on Patrick’s shoulder supportively, sorry just didn’t seem strong enough to help this man.
“So am I.” He whispered as the doctors re-appeared from the sealed room. They didn’t look particularly happy but from Patrick’s experience doctors generally weren’t the happiest people in the world- apart from Holly. She always had a smile on her face, but not anymore, Patrick thought Sadly as he looked through the glass at the pale image of the woman he once knew.
“How is she?” Patrick asked eagerly as the two men walked towards him.
“Ah yes,” Said one. “We wanted to talk to you about that. Nurse Richardson, could you take Dr. Spiller to the relatives room?” She nodded obediently and beckoned to Patrick to follow her.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were a doctor?” She asked as they walked in time.
“I didn’t think it was important.” He said and for once he meant it. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except Holly. She shot him a sympathetic glance as she opened the door to an unusually quiet relatives room.
“Must be bad if they’re getting me to wait in here.” Patrick joked nervously. He was gazing down at his fingernails, wondering which were long enough to chew off when the door burst open and the doctors walked through.
“So sorry to keep you waiting, Dr. Spiller.” One smiled with false sincerity. “We would like to talk to you about Dr. Miles’ condition.” He paused, obviously waiting for Patrick to enquire as to how she was.
“Talk then.” Patrick snapped, he was in no mood for niceties.
“Umm… Okay. Well, as I’m sure you know Dr. Miles-“
“Holly.” Patrick corrected, he hated her being called Dr. Miles, it was so impersonal.
“Right, well as you know Holly’s condition has been pretty stable since we brought her in here two days ago but there have been no obvious improvements that we would have hoped for by this stage.”
“What are you saying?” Patrick said through a shaky voice.
“It’s just that if we haven’t seen any serious improvements by the end of the week then we may have to consider turning off the machines that are keeping her alive.”
“The end of the week! That’s only four days time.” Patrick shouted.
“But if she hasn’t woken before then then there is only a very, very slim chance of her ever regaining consciousness.”
“People wake up from Comas after years!”
“Yes, but this is different. In theory we could keep Dr- Holly’s body going forever but that wouldn’t help anyone in the long term. Also we don’t have the staff or the beds to keep her here.”
“So is that what this is all about? You’re bloody waiting statistics!” Patrick took a step towards the doctor and there was an uncomfortable moment where everyone in the room thought that Patrick was going to hit him.
“What? I never said-” The doctor stuttered.
“Save it!” Patrick spat. “Holly will get better, she will.” He said as he ran from the room and back towards the room where Holly lay.
He walked into the room and suddenly felt so upset that he thought he might collapse into a sobbing heap on the floor. But, once again, he told himself that he had to stay strong for Holly. Swiftly he sat back in his usual position by her bed, holding her hand tightly in his. Gently he brushed the hair out of her eyes. She looked just like she did when she slept, he couldn’t believe that she could… He couldn’t say it.
“Don’t worry Holly, I wont let anything happen to you. You’ll be fine, I promise, everything will be fine. Ignore those doctors, they don’t know anything about anything, they don’t know you. But I do. You’re a fighter Hol, you wont give up that easily, I know you wont. I know you, I know you like no one else does- whether you like it or not. You wouldn’t leave me like this. Come on Hol, I need some communication here, I need you to tell me what to do, you were always good at that- bossing people around. Don’t leave me Holly, I…. I….” He took a deep breath. “I love you.” At first he thought it was his imagination but the longer he stayed there the more defiant he was that he felt her squeezing his hand. And as he looked up into her face he saw her eyelids flicker once, twice and a small smile spread across her lips before everything went back to normal.
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