Stay Another Day

I declined rapidly into very poor health, but I don't remember much of it, just that I was treated with several different antibiotics and constantly felt sick, tired and heavily drugged. Everything was a bit of a blur. When the treatments stabilised, one doctor, a pretty, middle aged woman, told me I was totally debilitated, and would need ongoing treatment for some time, although I would likely recover well with good care and a little luck.

I got a break. The comprehensive medical insurance from my previous employer lasted until the end of the calendar year, so I was transferred to a private clinic to rehabilitate. And that's where I am now, a month later.

It's not like a hospital here; it's more like a grand country house, set in attractive grounds. There are doctors and nurses, but it's more laid back than a hospital, the food is edible and you get your own room. Mine overlooks the outskirts of some mixed woodland. I like to look out the window and see the autumn roll in, changing green leaves to yellow, copper and brown before they fall.

I haven't had the heart to shave since I last saw Cat, so I've grown a beard. I like it, especially the little bits of silvery grey in it. I tell myself I won't smoke again and that I'll only drink moderately and stop existing on junk food. Who knows? Maybe I will reform.

I eat what I'm served, take my medicines like a good boy and am feeling better. Yesterday, I even managed to walk a mile in the grounds, although I had to sleep afterwards. They have told me that I should be fit enough to return home in two weeks.

Earlier today, my friend Jeff paid me a very short visit. He had endured three hours of travelling on two different buses. I was handed four well worn Elmore Leonard paperback crime novels, a cheese sandwich and a porn magazine. He was wearing my favourite battered old leather jacket.

"I went to check on your apartment yesterday. It was cold outside and I wasn't wearing anything warm, so I borrowed it," he said.

"Any news?" I asked him.

"Not much. I've been arrested for drunk driving and there were fifty three messages on your answer phone, mostly from the same number. I tried to listen to one, but deleted all of them by mistake. Sorry mate."

"No worries."

"It's good to see you looking better Carl. The first time I saw you in the hospital I thought you might be a goner."

I gave him a wink. "Well, I doubt that will occur now, but if it happens, you can have the Triumph bike and the full crate of beer that's in the kitchen."

"Thanks, although the crate isn't full anymore."

I wrinkled my forehead. "I thought it might not be."

"Oh yeah. Jimmy the barman heard that some Irish guy had beaten you up in a pub in St Mary's. Do you want me to find him and give him a slap?"

"No Jeff. Leave it alone."

That was pretty much it. Jeff had to leave to get the return bus home. This place was so far off the beaten track there were only two each day. He gave me a wink and a slap on the back as he left.

To pass the time I'm playing cards with another patient, a young guy called Ryan. He has TB like me, except I think he is recovering much more slowly. Ryan thinks he's great at no-limit poker. He's not, but I let him beat me usually. We are sitting at a table by French windows and playing for pennies, and he has a won a whole £5 in total from me now.

There is a slim young Polish woman working here called Ania, who often serves the meals and drinks. Ania has wavy, lustrous light brown hair, high cheekbones, piercing pale blue eyes and a beautiful smile. She likes to flirt with us sometimes, and she is good at it. She pours us coffee and hits us with her killer smile before strolling away.

Ryan admits to me he fancies her like mad. I think it's a little bit more than just lust though. I know the look, you see. He's making plans about the best way to ask Ania on a date when his health improves. I haven't the heart yet to tell him that from the window in my room I see a guy in a big bad builder's truck pick Ania up after her day's work at six o'clock, and that they always greet with a kiss and hug. I'll let Ryan keep his good dreams.

Ryan bets heavily on the river card. I figure he has three queens. I've got a full house, beating him easily, but I fold anyway. My new mobile phone rings. It's an unknown number. I answer. "Hello."

A slightly parched voice with a familiar soft American accent replies. "I'm back Carl. It was hard to track you down, but I'm not giving up on you, and I mean never. Accept it Mr Beautiful." She cut the call.

I hear the sound of a vehicle stopping on the gravel outside. I get up feeling a bit dazed and look out from the French windows. A red taxi with one passenger has parked up. I feel joy and fear.