Soup and a Smile

It irked him how much like a field it still looked, even though it was in the heartland of the city. It reminded him too much of Jo. She would hate to see it built on, he knew she would. How he knew, he couldn't say, but it was one of those curious thoughts entering his mind when he let it remain still for more than two seconds.

It was curious how much he thought about her. He supposed it was guilt in a way. He'd never thanked her properly. Oh he'd sent a note and a small box of orange roses to the surgery in Naunton with her name on it, but the writing was not his, he'd only dictated the words over the telephone.

That night he'd dreamed he was back in the cottage. Jo was looking up at him as she sat doing embroidery. She told him he was working too hard and he needed to rest. She showed him the embroidery and he realised it was a picture of his life, a picture lacking in colour and vibrancy.

"If you don't heed me, Allan," he heard her say, "I shall come and take you home. You ran away once, but you won't leave again so easily."

He was so surprised by the intensity of the dream. He woke up and switched on the light, almost expecting Jo to be standing at the foot of his bed looking down at him. He could almost feel her presence in his modern, pristine bedroom. The room was empty, as was the pillow beside him. Strangely he did not feel alarmed or distressed. Her words were oddly comforting. He switched off the light, then, hearing the dawn chorus he went and opened the curtains, watching the sun rise over the canal basin in an almost silent city.

CHAPTER SIX: The Return

Several weeks later, rose hips were turning red on the bushes outside his window. It had been a long day. The sickness of one of his colleagues forced him to take a teaching round on the wards. He'd forgotten how long and boring they were when he wanted to be back at his desk, researching some new procedures he'd read about the previous night. He was harangued by a particularly obnoxious set of relatives who couldn't understand why their mother wasn't getting better.

"She's dying" he wanted to scream at them, "Why don't you take her home and hold her hand for her last few days instead of leaving her in here, letting us take the blame for her final breaths." He held his tongue, trying to maintain a concerned look on his face as if he were taking note of their comments.

It seemed like an eternity before the Ward Manager came over and rescued him, letting him escape down the stairs to arrive, ten minutes late for his postgraduate lecture in the Education Centre.

Nothing was going right today. Back at his desk, he still couldn't find the research papers he was searching for.

A cup and saucer suddenly appeared on his desk. "Why don't you drink something, Allan, I expect you've not thought about eating or drinking all day."

"There hasn't been time," he muttered, then suddenly looked up at the figure standing on the other side of the desk. "You?" he couldn't believe his eyes.

"I told you I'd come and fetch you, if you wouldn't come to me."

"But that was a dream!" Allan took off his glasses and put them down on the desk. He rubbed his eyes, but the figure stayed where she was.

"Am I asleep?"

Jo laughed. "Drink your tea, then tell me if you're asleep."

He sat down and brought the cup to his lips. This wasn't his normal tea. It was green and smelt of lemons. He sipped and found himself drinking green water. He must be asleep. He only drank coffee when he was awake.

Jo waited until he finished the tea.

"Come on, I'm taking you home. You can sleep there."

"But my work!" he protested.

"It will keep for a month or two. Nothing is so important for you to drive yourself into the ground. When you are rested, you can decide what is the most important, living to work or working to live or something different. It will be your choice."

"But I can't!"

Jo held out her hand. "Can't or won't," she challenged him. "What are you afraid of, Allan? Frightened I'll feed you more soup and the cats will leave hairs on your trousers? Or frightened you might enjoy yourself, might actually learn to feel again? Am I right?"

Allan closed his eyes. He knew if he opened them again she would be gone, his office empty.

He opened his eyes to the sound of knocking. Hugh Pickering, his Research Fellow, was knocking on the open door holding a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"I've got the papers you wanted, Allan. Do you want to go through them now?"

Allan looked at the disappearing light outside his window. "Not tonight, Hugh. I'm not feeling very well. I think I need some sleep. You go home and I'll see you tomorrow - I mean Monday."

"OK, have a good weekend."

Allan switched off the computer and put the papers in his briefcase. He really did need to get away for a while, or maybe just get some sleep. He never slept more than four hours a night. It must be beginning to tell on him if he was having waking dreams now.

He pulled the door shut behind him and heard the lock click. Someone was standing in the shadows.

"Who's there?" he called. He didn't have the energy to cope with intruders tonight.

"It's only me," Jo said, walking towards him.

"But you're a dream."

He heard her quiet chuckle and thought how much brighter the world seemed through the sound. Then he felt her tuck her hand inside his arm. "What do I have to do to make you accept I'm real, Allan?" He smelt her perfume, his mind recalling this was something he'd smelt before, a long time ago. "I don't know," he replied. "I suppose you want to take me away from here."

Jo nodded. "You're not well, Allan, I felt that when you came before, but you wouldn't stay long enough for me to do anything. I'm giving you another chance. It's up to you whether or not you take it."

Allan felt waves of exhaustion roll over him. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, but it was happening.

"Lead on, MacDuff," he said, holding the door open for her to leave the building in front of him. If this were a dream, he would go to his car and drive home to the apartment as he always did. Jo's hand was still tucked inside his arm. She led him down the hill to the public car park and opened the car door for him.

"I'm kidnapping you, do you mind?" she smiled.

"I suppose not," he said, tucking his long legs into the passenger seat and hunting around for a lever to let the seat slide backwards. "If this is a dream, can you wake me up when we get to your house?"

"I will," Jo assured him, starting up the engine and driving off into the sunset.