Life Has Its Surprises
At our local childrens clinic, we had a cardiologistEdward Fraser (all names kept true). Like most of us, every summer hed spend a month or two working as a doctor at a kids campkeeping an eye on the kitchen, weighing children, checking lockers, dabbing cuts with antiseptic, unless, touch wood, something truly serious happened.
Back then, Edward was about forty, athletic, salt-and-pepper hair, a bit curly, strong, distinct featuresa type who, judging by the looks he got, was rather popular with the ladies.
He once told us a story:
It was 1985, and the national campaign against drinking was in full swing. Just being caught with alcohol could have you removed from the housing waiting list, sent away for a holiday in January, or even fired from any positionno matter how senior.
It was the last session of August, the final night in camp. As usual, the kids werent sleepingsneaking into each others rooms, drawing on faces with toothpaste and ink. The group leaders pretended to chase after them, sometimes having a glass of wine or cider, not to get drunk, but out of tradition, you know?
I didnt make an exceptionwhy should I? Im a doctor too. The night went as expected, and early in the morning we fed the kids breakfast, then loaded them onto coaches. An hour or so later, we arrived back at the city, outside the Playhouse Theatre, dropped off the children, reunited with parentseveryone accounted for!
Another quick glass, and I headed home, thinking of the table being setthe session was over, and that very afternoon my wife Hope and I were flying off to my mums in Cornwall for our September holspeak time, just gorgeous!
And then, it struck me wine, sleepless night, jolting coach, summer heat and I just collapsed under some bushes on the edge of the square, completely out for the count.
The rest of the camp crew had gone home, but the nurse, Annie, somehow spotted me. She tried to rouse me, tried to get me upit was pointless, I was sound asleep, completely gone! Thankfully, Annie wasnt just a decent person, but also understood I could be easily dismissed for behaviour like thisoff to the drunk tank, disciplinary investigation, no questions asked.
Luckily, Annie lived just nearby, on Westminster Road. With the help of someone, she managed to drag me upthe only thing I could probably do was shuffle my feet a bitshe half-carried, half-dragged me to her room in a shared four-bedroom flat.
Two hours later, I came tonot because Id sobered up in the cool room, but because the white wine just had to come out
I tried to get up, muttering, but Annie all but leapt onto me, clapping her hand over my mouth, whispering urgently for me to stay quiet.
I was completely disorientedjust desperate for the loo!struggling to get up, and she kept holding me down, explaining softly
See, Annies neighbours didnt just mind their business, they were straight-up poisonous. Annie was a good, proper girl, lived alone, and if the old ladies next door spotted a man in her roomwell, theyd destroy her with gossip.
I did understand, truly, and told her so, but that didnt make me need the toilet any lessin fact, my system was at maximum emergency, which I told her as honestly as I could. Being a nurse, Annie fetched a bucket, left me to it, then whisked it away.
Phew crisis averted!
It suddenly hit me: Id been meant to be home two hours ago, finishing our packing; my wife, in-laws, cousins and all our relations would be waiting at the table, or worseringing every hospital soon! Disaster
I tried, in whispers and sign language, to explain to Annie that while I understood her life wasnt easy, if I didnt get home *now*, her neighbour grannies would seem gentle compared to what my family would do to me.
After a bit of pleading, Annie said: one of the neighbours was out, another shed send to the shop for bread, and the third shed distract in the kitchen, telling tales from camp. I was to quietly slip down the corridor, shoe in each hand, open the door soundlessly, and sneak out without a slam.
So, the neighbour toddled off to the shop
Another bustled in the kitchen
Annie, rattling the kettle, made noise as cover
Shoes off, holding them in my right hand, I tiptoed in socks down the corridor towards the battered front door to freedom
With my left hand, I eased back the bolt
A sudden LOUD creak from behindwhere the absent neighbour had supposedly gone out for the dayand a remarkably thrilled, rolling, very familiar voice nearly shrieked, Edward Fraser! Good afternoon!!!
My shoes dropped with a dreadful clatter. I shuffled them on, feet scuffing across the floor, flung open the door with a loud snapand, not even glancing back, called, Good day, Bella Abrahamson
Why turn around? Id know my mother-in-laws best friends voice anywhere, as I know just what wild description shed give when repeating this scene to everyone And who would believe my side of thingsafter sneaking out in socks, with my shoes in hand?
Half an hour later I was home. Bella hadnt had time to ring round yeteveryone was joyfully anxious, Ed, we nearly lost you, we were getting worried, come sit down, the taxis arrived, we must dash to the airport!all the cheerful commotion of a big, loving family.
We made it to Mums for the holidays yet every time the phone rang, I started. I kept expecting Bella to call Hopes mother, and raced round the flat every time it rang. I didnt go to the beach in case Id miss a calllost my appetite and sleep, of course.
A few days in, Mum cornered me in the kitchen, interrogated me until I cracked, and confessed everything.
Well, son, she said, of course I believe you, as the song goes, but I cant imagine anyone else would. Theres nothing I can do, but Ill answer all the phone callsnobody else will pick up. Try and get some rest.
A month later, we were heading back. You can imagine my nervesvisions of awkward meetings, confrontations, shouts, the works.
The plane landed; everyone disembarked, but I just couldnt move. The cabin crew frowned, my wife pulled at my arm. Sometimes, under real stress, your legs wont work Clinging to Hope, I somehow got up, and half-staggered towards the exit.
In those days, you had to walk from the plane across the field to the terminal. Outside the fence, everyone else had been collected, save for my in-laws, who waved and smiled extravagantly.
Where have you been? We were worried! Everyone else has arrived! Hope, youre looking ever so tanned and rested!
Ed, why are you so thin? And so pale! Were you ill? Did something happen?
Looking at their falsely concerned faces, I realised that the people Id loved and respected for years were reveling in my anguish.
We returned home, the table was set, toasts, chitchat, questions But nobody mentioned Bellanot a word. Well, I thought, if they want to savour the suspense, so can I.
Weeks passed. I lost a stone, couldnt sleep, developed arrhythmiaat work, I was useless, a zombie. Couldnt face a drink, and if I did, even a single shot had me ill.
Then came the November holidaysfood, booze, every relation around, noise and celebration, my mother-in-law opposite me at the table
And I snapped.
Leaning across the table, I almost yelled, So tell me, mother, hows your friend Bella Abrahamson these days?!
What followed floored me. I laughedno, howledarms thrown wide, knocking things from the table, chair tipping over, helpless with laughter for five minutes, terrifying everyone.
After a drenching with cold water, I finally calmed down, sipped my drink and enjoyed the meal more than I had in months.
No one ever understood why I reacted so wildly to my mother-in-laws solemn reply: Oh Ed, the day you left for your holiday, Bella had a minor stroke and lost her speech
Life has a funny way of making us worry about the wrong thingsfor all our fretting, sometimes fate takes an unexpected turn, reminding us that laughter, acceptance, and a sense of humour matter more than the judgements of others.
