The Last Wish
Ill never make it home again groaned Jack, writhing in agony. And Ill never see Emily again, either. I was going to propose tonight. I didnt make it Why is life so unfair?
Try not to worry, the nurse smiled, noticing the sickly pale young man brought in by the ambulance. Youll be just fine.
I doubt it Jack muttered, fighting back the pain.
Then he lay in silence, his gaze fixed and fearful, as he watched the medical staff prepare him for surgery.
*****
Jack had despised hospitals since he was a boy. The memory of endless jabs and prodding haunted himall that pain, and nobody ever thought to say sorry for the emotional suffering.
Come on, dont cry, Jackie, a nurse would tease while taking blood from his finger. Youre almost off to school, no? And here you are, bawling like a little girl. Dont you feel ashamed?
Jack, tears streaming down his face, would squirm and try to break free, but he could never outrun the treatment room. He didnt feel ashamed. He just felt hurt and wronged.
The walk home from the surgery with his mum was always filled with one promise: never, ever, under any circumstances, would he set foot in a hospital again.
Dont say that, love! his mother would try to soothe him. Doctors are here to make people well and help them live longer, see? Theyre good people. You mustnt be frightened.
Yeah right, good people Jack sobbed, staring at his finger as if half his life had just been drained from it. Well, they can sort themselves out, but leave me alone!
Theres hardly any need to describe Jacks terror the day his parents dragged him to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.
He screamed so loud you could hear him halfway down the high street, window or no window.
Not the best memories for a young lad.
So it made perfect sense, even as a man, Jack couldnt stand hospitalsor doctorsfor love nor money. He steered clear of the lot whenever he could.
But fate had other ideas the night he collapsed with appendicitis. He doubled over from the agony, leaving Emilyhis girlfriend and dinner dateto do the only thing she could: ring an ambulance.
Leave it, Em, itll sort itself out, Jack pleaded.
Dont be daft. Im watching you double overlooks an awful lot like appendicitis to me. Ive had it before.
And so, against his wishes, Jack ended up in St. Marks Hospital.
You can imagine how he felt.
The thought of surgeons poking around inside him made Jack wilt. And seeing two porters rolling away a body under a shroud set a chill deep in his bonesa curtain call, it seemed.
Thats it, Im not going home he thought, chest tight. I wont see Emily ever again. I wanted to propose I never got to. Why is this happening to me?
Honestly now, dont fret so, the nurse smiled kindly, noticing Jacks ghostly pallor. Its all going to be fine.
Im not so sure
No need to worry, she assured him. You got here in good time. Appendix operations are straightforward. Left too long, mind, and things might get messy.
She was right. The surgery went like clockworkno disasters, not even any pain. For the first time in years, Jacks opinion of hospitals shifted for the better. To his shock.
They put him under in the operating theatre, and when he woke, the worst was already behind him. By evening, hed been moved to a regular ward.
Jack slept solidly through the night, waking only when his IV line was changed.
It was morning when Jack discovered he had a new room-mate: an elderly gent in the bed by the window.
Just what I need, Jack grumbled inwardly. Hell settle in and tell me his life story.
He wasnt in the mood for chat. All Jack wanted was quiet and peace and for everyone to leave him well alone.
He didnt even call Emily. Just shot her a text, All good, dont worry, shoved his phone under the pillow, and let his mind drift to how poorly timed this hospital visit really was.
He and Emily had been living together over a year. That night, hed planned to propose: restaurant booking confirmed, musicians prepped to play Emilys favourite song, a waiter ready to bring the ring hidden under a silver dome.
Jack wanted the proposal to be perfect.
But fate had other plans. Instead of romance and wedding talk, Jack lay on a hospital bed with a silent old man for company.
To his surprise, the pensioner didnt try to make conversation.
He just greeted Jack, said little else, muttering quietly over his phone as call after call went unanswered, until his battery finally died.
No charger, of course; left it at home in the hurry.
Not even staff had a charger old enough for the antique mobile.
So the old gent stared at the lifeless screen, tears forming in his eyes. Jack felt uneasy. Guilty, even. The man clearly had some serious trouble, while he, Jack, had painted him as a bore.
After a few moments, Jack shuffled to the edge of his bed, and with a gentle voice, asked if the man was alright.
Its my son Im trying to reach, the man said wistfully. I cant get through.
Doesnt he know youre in hospital? Jack asked, surprised.
He does. Nurse phoned him when I was admitted, but he wont speak to me. We had a row six months back. Just before my birthday. He wanted to put me in a home to sell my house, but I disagreed. Not even for the house.
The old man recounted how a few days ago, chest pain had brought him here. The doctors had done their best, but told him surgery was the only way forward.
Its booked for the day after tomorrow, he sighed. But Im scared I wont last that long.
Nonsense, Jack said, trying to buoy him. Doctors do their best to keep us going. Youll be alright. I had my appendix out yesterdaysee? Still here, arent I?
The gent managed a wry smile, but chose not to explain the difference between an appendix and a heart.
My dogs all alone, he confessed. Outside somewhere. I just wanted to ask my son to look after Patch if I dont make it. Or at least find him a loving home. The neighbours wont take himtoo many pets already. But my son could help. Hes set to inherit my house and garden, which hes always wanted to sell. Its only fair. But he wont answer my calls. The nurse tried too, but no luck. Thats my son for you
Jack didnt know what to say.
I only worry about Patch now. Whatll become of him? Wholl care for him? How can he get by out on the streets?
The old mans lost his mind, Jack thought, but something in the gents voice made him reconsider as the man told the tale of how he found Patch.
Six months ago, on my birthday, I happened upon him. My wife, the man paused, crossing himself, has been gone five years. The night before my birthday, she came to me in a dream, leading a dog on a lead. She smiled and waved, and the dog strained to reach me. Next morning, rain lashing, I stumbled across Patch, tied to the railings outside the shop, abandoned and shivering. No one knew whose he was. I waited hours, but no one came. So I took him in. Silly, perhaps, but to me, it was a birthday present from my wife.
Jack nodded, though he didnt really believe in such things. But he tried to encourage the man.
Patch and I hit it off straight away. For weeks, I searched for his old ownerflyers around townbut no one stepped forward. Im glad, really. Patch isnt just a friend, not just a dog. Hes become the joy of my golden years.
That night Jack couldnt stop thinking about the dog left outside, and a son who ignored his own fathers calls.
How cold and heartless must someone be to ignore their dad in hospital
That night, Jack dreamt of a stray that looked remarkably like Patch, wandering the streets with sad eyes, searching for someone as Jack followed close behind, unable to say why.
He was woken in the night by croaking breathsthe old man, clutching his chest, gasping for air.
Shall I get the doctor? Jack called out in alarm, scrambling from his bed.
No, not yet Please, ring my son, Simon. His numbers on the paper there, on the bedside. Tell him Id like to see him, say my goodbyes. If he cant comeor wontjust ask him to make sure Patch is safe in a good home. Thats all I want. I can go peacefully if I know Patch will be alright, that he wont be left all alone in the world.
Jack, hands shaking, fumbled with his mobile, found the scrap of paper, and dialled the scribbled digits.
HelloSimon? Its Jack, Im a friend of your fathers from his hospital ward
Jack had to pausetheir entire day together, and he realised he didnt even know the mans first name.
Its Arthur. Arthur Davies, the old man rasped.
Arthur Davies. Hes not well, hes hoping you can come see him, if you can.
Oh, is he dying then? Simons tone seemed to liven. Which hospital was itSt. Marks, yeah? Can you remind me the ward?
Yes, St. Marks, third floor, room 314, Jack confirmed, giving the full address.
He tossed his phone aside and hurried for the nurse. She was asleep at the station but soon roused.
Back in the ward, Jack found Arthur weaker than ever.
How are you, Mr Davies? Jack clutched his hand, voice trembling. Nurse is getting the doctor now. You must hang on. Its not your time yet. And your son promised hed come. Hell be here by morning. Mr Davies, do you hear me? Pleasedont close your eyes
Arthurs heart stopped before the doctor and nurse arrivedgone in the small hours.
The doctor checked for a pulse, felt for the artery under his jaw, shone a light in his pupils, then muttering barely audibly, slipped out. Twenty minutes later, the porters Jack had seen upon his arrival wheeled Arthur away.
*****
Your father died right in front of me, Jack told Simon the following day.
Well, at least that parts done, Simon replied dryly. Better this way, really. He didnt linger. Easier for all of us. I mean, who has time to play carer these days? Ive got a job, a family He trailed off, almost relieved. Yes, its better this way
Arthurs last wish was for you to find Patch a good home, Jack added, voice firm.
The dog? Oh yes, that mutt from the street. And whod want it? Dad refused the care home cause of that animal. It wouldve been better for everyone! He never listened
It was his last request, Jack insisted. Surely you can manage thatespecially now youve got the house you wanted so badly.
Simon gave Jack an odd look, didnt reply, just collected his fathers old mobile and the slip of paper, and left. Not a word of goodbyejust slammed the door.
Jack flopped back on his bed, heavy with regret. The old man was only seventy-seven; some live past a hundred. He could have had more yearsmaybe not to a hundred, but surely to ninety. But fate had decided otherwise.
Fate really is strangea loving dog is now all alone. Unwanted.
Doubt Simon will do a thing, Jack thought. Hell sell the house, and Patch will be left out in the cold. Maybe the neighbours will feed him but maybe not.
That night Jack dreamt of Arthur, wandering Londons empty streets searching for his dog. Calling and calling, tears streaked down his cheeks.
Jack watched on, powerless, tears streaming down his own facetears he couldnt remember last allowing to fall, not since the day hed sworn hed never cry again, not like a little girl.
These haunting dreams kept coming, even after Jack was discharged and went home. Every morning, he woke deep in thought. Emily noticed.
Jack, are you alright?
Yeah, Im finejust thinking, thats all.
About what, if you dont mind me asking?
Its just There was this old chap in my ward. He came in after a heart attack, was meant to have an op, but never made it. He had a dog, all alone now.
Any family to look after the dog?
Just his son, but theyd fallen outthe poor man called him time and time again from hospital, but the lad never answered. By the time the son finally arrived, his father had died. I told him about the dog, but didnt get the impression he cared much. He was only interested in the house. He was on the phone to an estate agent right in front of me, wanting to know how quick he could sell, and if he had to wait six months for probate. I worry about the dog. Ive never even seen it, but I cant stop thinking about him. A good man always has a good dog, right?
Well, why dont we go and look? Emily suggested. If the dogs still roaming, we can take him in.
Are you sure? You wouldnt mind a dog?
Of course not. Itd be fantastic! Well walk togetherthink how nice that would be.
Yeah Jack smiled at her. Wait, but I dont even know Arthurs address.
The hospital must have it on recordleave it to me. But first, well need to pick up some chocolates and a nice jar of coffee.
Turns out, a quality coffee and a milk chocolate bar do wonders: the receptionist at St. Marks, whod recognised Jack, initially refused to give out personal information. But Emily, beaming, presented the gifts, while Jack quietly explained why he needed Arthurs address. Looking around to make sure no one saw, the receptionist scribbled it on a slip of paper.
Within forty-five minutes, Jack and Emily pulled up outside Arthurs cottage. They walked alongside the weathered fence, checked the garden, but found no dog.
A neighbour appeared.
Looking for someone? The house is empty now, she said, joining them at the gate.
I know. I shared a ward with Arthur. Jacks voice faltered. He he passed away with me beside him.
Oh goodness thats such a shame. He was a lovely man, kind-hearted. Not many like him these daysGod rest his soul. His son didnt even organise a proper funeral, you know. Buried him quickly, now planning renovations to sell for more.
About what I expected of Simon Have you seen Arthurs dog about? Patch, was it? Arthur worried about him to the last.
Patch? Of course, I have. He stayed right by the gate for days, eyes fixed on the road, waiting for Arthur to return. He never did. Poor boy howled through the night after Arthur died, two nights running. Proper broke my heart. I tried, but Simon, who stayed at the house briefly, got fed upyelled at Patch, then drove him off somewhere. Hasnt been back since; probably returned to his own town.
Do you have any idea where he took him? Or what he looks like at all?
A small dog, adorable really. Wait, Ive got a picturelook! She scrolled through her phone and showed them a photo.
Its a corgi! Emily beamed. Such a sweetheart. So, Simon never said where he was taking him?
He said hed found someone to take Patch in, but I doubt it. Hes never liked animals, even as a boy. Hard to believe someone as wonderful as Arthur could have such an unfeeling son. Not a sonjust a sly fox, that one.
Jack and Emily thanked her and got back in their carsilent, subdued.
Deep down, they scolded themselves for not coming sooner. They could have taken Patch in. Now, who knows where he is. If Simon did find him a homeso be it. But what if he abandoned him?
They circled the neighbouring streets, stopping passers-by to ask about a stray corgi, but nothing came of it.
When Jack tried Simons number, he realised hed been blockedcalls cut off, messages wouldnt send.
Lets hope Patch is all right, Emily said softly. She could see the odds werent good, but sometimes you just have to hope. Its easier.
And then fate intervened again.
Held up in traffic on the A12, Emily decided to take the back lanes.
A few miles on, she slowed down, pointing. A dog sat forlornly on the vergelooking unmistakably like the neighbours photo.
Jack, could that be Patch? Emily asked, hopeful.
He looks just like himlets check.
They stopped and approached the dog cautiously.
The closer they got, the more certain they becamethis had to be Arthurs Patch.
Patch! Jack called in delight. Patch!
The dog flinched at the sound of his name, turning to look at the couple, alert but not afraid.
Thats him! Jack said to Emily, stepping closer. Its alright, Patch! I knew your ownerArthur. He wanted so much for you to be safe. Will you let us take you home?
Jack knelt, hand outstretched.
Patch eyed him warilyjust for a momentthen sniffed. There was no mistake: in Jacks hands was the scent of Arthur Davies. Even after days, the dog recognised it.
Patchs little tail began to wag, then he pressed against Jack, lowering his head for a scratch. Jack stroked the corgi, feeling the wetness gather in his own eyessmall, but there, all the same.
Emily, too, was quietly crying as she watched her partner and the little dog, who pressed into him as if he were the dearest soul in the world.
Soon after, all three were in the car, heading homerelieved and joyful.
Jack and Emily were so glad theyd dodged the queue and taken the scenic routetheyd found Patch, left behind but not forgotten.
And Patch?
Patch revelled in his new people, absorbing the comfort and assurance hed lostthe gentle hands that reminded him of Arthur. For Patch, that was all the happiness he needed.
*****
So much for a loyal son, Jack muttered that evening as they settled Patch in at home. He certainly found a good home for the dog, didnt he? Id love a word with him
Leave it, Jack, Emily soothed him. The main thing is, Patch is with us now. As for Simon, lifell catch him up one daywhen hes as old as his father, and his own children turn away, thatll be his lesson. By then, itll be too late to put anything right.
Youre probably right Jack sighed, glancing at Patch dozing on the sofapaws twitching and what looked like a gleeful smile on his face.
Jack reckoned he knew where Patch was running in his dreamsand to whom.
Give Arthur my regards, he thought fondly, and, careful not to wake Patch, went to fetch the ring box from the wardrobe.
That very night, at last, Jack proposed to Emily.
Not in a fancy restaurant, nor over music and spectacle, but right there and thenbecause if life had taught him anything, it was that you dont wait for special occasions, which might never come.
He did it, and Emily said yeswithout hesitation.
Thats the storyPatch gave a sleepy, approving sigh, one paw lightly touching Emilys knee, the other draped across Jacks foot as if anchoring them to the moment. They sat together on the threadbare old couch, hands entwined, the promise of new beginnings swirling between them, while the little dog that had wandered from sorrow into their world whiffled contentedly in his dreams.
The rain began to patter at the window again, but this time neither Jack nor Emily minded. The warm glow of the table lamp threw familiar shadows across the roomno chill, no emptiness, just the comfort of home. Jack leaned his head against Emilys shoulder and she rested hers on his.
Tomorrow would come with its troubles and tasks, as always. There would be calls to make, walks to take, maybe strangers to convince that rescue could triumph after all. But tonight, the sorrow had been softened by kindness, and the ache of loss transformed into hope. Arthurs last wish had found its way, not through the intentions of those he trusted least, but down a back road, roundabout and uncertaincarried by strangers who cared enough to see it through.
As Jack listened to Emily humming softlyan old tune, the kind his mother used to sing on rainy eveningshe understood that life would never guarantee fairness or perfect occasions. But sometimes, by chance or grace, you got the chance to mend a broken promise and, in doing so, mend something in yourself.
Jack reached down, running his hand over Patchs silky ear. Dont worry, mate, he whispered, youre home now. We all are.
Patch snuffled, rolling onto his back with a satisfied groan, and Jack and Emily broke into laughterquiet and joyfulfilling the small living room with a sound that belonged as much to the future as to the past.
Outside, the rain eased, and somewherejust for a momentJack thought he heard a whistle on the wind, like a gentle goodnight, carrying all the way from Arthurs garden to the place where Patch and his new family dreamed together beneath a roof of second chances and love that never needed words.
