The Last Wish
No, Im not going home James breathed out heavily, writhing with pain and grasping at his side. And Ill never see Emily again. I wanted to propose to her, I really did but now I wont get the chance. Why is this happening to me?
Try not to worry, smiled the nurse, noticing the way his face had turned ashen as the ambulance trolley rolled him into the hospital. Youll be just fine.
I doubt it James groaned, barely able to force the words out.
He fell silent after that, terror in his eyes as he watched the doctors and nurses prepping him for the operating theatre.
*****
James had always hated hospitals.
It started in childhoodhe remembered wincing every time a needle pricked his skin, the cold, impersonal way the nurses apologised for nothing. The worst part wasnt the pain but the absence of comfort.
Oh come on, Jimmy, dont snivel, a nurse used to chide, drawing blood from his finger, her voice light. Youre a big boy now, about to start school. Its nothing to cry about!
He would watch her through his tears, trying to pull away, sobbing without shame. It wasnt embarrassment; it was anger and the sting of betrayal. The only conclusion hed come to was this: he would do anything to avoid hospitals. He would rather die than step into one again.
Mum, I mean it, Ill never go back. They cant make me! hed declared seriously on the walk home, huddled against her side.
Now, sweetheart, you mustnt say that, his mum tried to reassure him. Doctors are here to help us get better and stay with us as long as possible. Youve nothing to fear.
Right James grumbled, rubbing at the tiny wound on his finger. They can fix themselves if they likejust leave me out of it!
He never forgave his parents for dragging him to the dentist to have a tooth pulleda howling so loud it travelled through closed windows out to the street.
No fond memories there.
So as an adult, James avoided doctors and anything related to medicine as often as he could.
But luckor misfortunelanded him in hospital one evening, doubled over with appendix pain, just as he was getting ready for a romantic dinner with Emily.
Dont bother with the ambulance. Ill be fine in a minute James pleaded with her, sweaty and pale.
Are you mad? I know appendicitis when I see it, Emily insisted, grabbing her phone. You need help, right now.
And so, against his every wish, James found himself rushed to St Georges Hospital in London.
He imagined the surgeons poking about inside his internal world, and the thought made him feel bleak. The arrival of a patient being quietly wheeled down the corridor by two unsmiling portersone clearly beyond savingsealed that sense of dread.
Thats it, Im not coming home again, James muttered, pain contorting his face. And Ill never see Emily. Never ask her to marry me. I ran out of time
Dont fret so, the nurse said gently as she noticed his pallor. Its a routine operation, youll be alright.
Somehow Im not convinced, James managed.
She smiled reassuringly. Youre lucky you got here when you did, she said. Had you left it any later, it couldve been much more serious.
And, in truth, the appendectomy went off without a hitch. By the time he came round in recovery, blinking under the fluorescent lights, the terror was behind him. Theyd put him under on the table, and now he was patched up, moving to a regular ward bed before morning.
He slept like a log, stirring only when the drip was replaced, barely aware of anyone coming and going.
*****
When daylight filtered in, James glanced around and realised an elderly man had appeared in the next bed.
Oh perfect James groaned in his mind. Just what I need, some old chap keen to pour his life story into my aching ear.
He wanted quiet, nothing more. He texted Emily that he was fine and tucked his phone away, keen to avoid company.
James and Emily had been living together for more than a year, and last night hed planned to propose. The restaurant was booked, the musicians primed to play her favourite song, a waiter ready to deliver the engagement ring as a surprise. James wanted everything perfect.
But it didnt happen. Fate intervened, and instead of spending the evening with Emily making plans for forever, he was lying in a hospital bed next to a stranger.
The old man, though, proved consideratehe said his hellos, then fell into a silence, mumbling now and then to himself when phone calls wouldnt connect. All afternoon, the old mans phone buzzed, then diedthe charger was at home, he said, and no one here had one that would fit a device from the dark ages.
When the screen finally faded to black, the old mans eyes filled with tears, and for the first time James felt a stab of guilt; maybe there was more to this mans story.
After a time, James sat up carefully on the edge of his bed and asked, Are you alright, sir?
Its my son, the man replied, a deep sadness in his voice. I cant get through to him.
Does he not know youre in hospital?
He does. The nurse spoke to him when I was brought in. But he wont speak to me. We havent talked these past six months, not since before my birthday. He wanted to send me to a care home, sell my house. I said nonothing to do with the house itself.
He explained that a heart attack had brought him herethe doctors had stabilised him but insisted an operation was his only hope.
Theyve scheduled it for the day after tomorrow, the old man said. But I doubt Ill make it. I worry more about dying alone than on a table.
Nonsense, James said, trying to cheer him. Thats what medicines for, to give us a bit more time. Youll be fine, I promise. They took my appendix yesterday and lookIm still standing.
The old man smiled wryly, making no attempt to compare a young mans appendix to his failing heart.
Theres a dog, you see, the pensioner went on, out on the street. I wanted to ask my son to look after Biscuit to find him a proper home if Im not around. The neighbours have their hands full, and Biscuits got nowhere to go. Im leaving my son the househes long wanted to sell itso its not like Ive nothing to offer. But he wont answer my calls, and even when the nurse tried, he refused to speak to me. Thats my boy
James was silent for a moment.
I just worry what will become of Biscuit. Wholl care for him? Will he survive out there all alone?
Odd, James thought. With an operation looming, this man only cares about his dog. But as he listenedabout how Biscuit came to be his companionhis opinion shifted. This animal meant everything to the old man.
I found him, you know, on my birthday six months ago, the man said quietly. My son didnt call, Ive no other family nowmy wifes been gone these past five years. Odd thing was, the night before, she came to me in a dream. She was smiling, holding a little dog on a lead, waving me over. That day, I went to get groceries and spotted Biscuit, tied up by the railings, rain pouring down. I waited for hours, hoping someone would claim him. When darkness fell, I realisedhed been abandoned.
So you took him in?
I couldnt leave him. Mad as it sounds, I believe my wife sent him as a birthday gift from beyond. He smiled sadly. She mustve seen I was lonelya friend to make these last years bearable.
James nodded. He might not believe in such signs, but now wasnt the time for doubt. The man needed kindness.
Biscuit became more than a friend, the man explained. Hes been the reason I get out of bed in the morning. I tried to find his ownersposted notices around townbut no one came. Im glad, really. To me, Biscuit is everything.
James thought of Biscuit out there, waiting, and of the son ignoring his dying fathers pleas. How can someone turn their back like that?
He fell asleep with images of a lost little terrier wandering the streets, and James, for some reason, following close behind, compelled by some need to help.
He woke to laboured, rattling breathsthe old man was clutching at his chest, gasping for air.
Shall I get the sister? James asked frantically, leaping from his bed.
No not yet. Please, ring my sonSimon. His numbers on a scrap of paper on the bedside table. I just want to say goodbye and if he wont come, at least ask him to find Biscuit a proper home. I have a feeling I wont see them both again, but at least Ill know theyre safe.
James hesitated, unsure whether to fetch a doctor or honour the old mans wish. His hands shook as he picked up his mobile, clutching the bit of paper and dialling awkwardly.
Hello, is that Simon? Im your dads ward-mate James stopped, realising he didnt even know the old man’s name.
Walter Smith, the man rasped out.
Im with Walter Smith, James continued. Hes not well. Hes asking you to come, if you can.
Hes dying, is he? Simon replied, his voice oddly neutral. Hes at St Georges, right? Room number?
Room 314, third floor, James said, giving the address. He hung up and immediately ran to find the night nurse, who dozed at her desk. She roused and, catching his urgency, hurried back with him.
How are you feeling, Walter? James asked, clutching the mans cold hand. The nurse is getting the doctor. Hang in there. Your sons cominghell be here by morning. Keep your eyes open, alright?
Walter Smiths heart gave out before the doctor arrived. The nurse and doctor tried, checking pulses and pupils, but there was nothing more to be done. In twenty minutes, the porters camethe same unsmiling duo James had seen before.
*****
Your father died right beside me, James told Simon the next day.
Well, at least it was quick, Simon replied brusquely. Means he didnt suffer. Better for everyone really. You know how it is with the oldthey linger, expect you to drop everything and play carer. Ive got a family, a job At least it ended this way.
Walter wanted you to promise to find Biscuit a loving home, James insisted gently.
His mutt? Oh, that thing he dragged in from the street. No one wants a dog like that, Simon shrugged. He refused a care home just for that animal. This is what happens.
That was your fathers last wish, James said sternly. Surely you can grant him that, now that you have the house you wanted.
Simon gave James a cold glance, then silently pocketed his fathers battered old phone and the noteeverything Walter Smith had owned that was worth taking. Without another word, he walked out, closing the door with a thud.
James lay back and stared at the ceiling. Walter Smith was seventy-sevena good run, but still, some lived to a hundred. He could have made it to ninety if fate allowed. Strange, he thought, this life; now even Biscuit was orphaned and alone.
I doubt Simon will care for Biscuit, James pondered. Hell take the house, sell it, and the dog will be left to fend for himselfif hes lucky, the neighbours might toss him food
That night, James dreamt of Walter Smith wandering the empty streets calling for his doga canine nowhere to be found, tears rolling down the old mans cheeks. James watched, unable to help, tears prickling his own eyes though he hadnt cried since boyhood.
He returned home days later, haunted by the storyso much so that Emily noticed.
James, is everything alright?
Yes, just lost in thought.
About what?
The man I shared my ward with Walter Smith. He was brought in with a heart attack, meant to have an operation, but well, he died. He had a dog, Biscuit, left behind.
Does he have any family who could take the dog?
Just his son, but theyd stopped speaking. Walter rang him every day here and never got an answer. When the son finally showed up, his father was gone. I asked him about Biscuit, but honestly, he couldnt have cared less. He only asked the estate agent how soon the house could be sold. Now I cant get that poor dog out of my head even though Ive never seen him. Walter was a good manhis dog must be, too.
Emily squeezed his hand. Lets go and see, shall we? If Biscuits still out there, well take him.
Really? You dont mind a dog?
Of course not. Itd be lovely to have a pet. We could go for walks together.
James grinned. But I dont know the address
Ill handle that, Emily replied. Well stop by the hospital firstmight need to sweeten up reception, though. Grab a nice coffee and chocolate on the way.
It turned out a sweet treat and Emilys warm smile were all it took. The receptionist, at first unyielding, melted when Emily explained their mission and why they needed Walter Smiths address. Glancing around, she scribbled it on a scrap of paper.
Forty minutes later, James and Emily were standing in front of a small house in Surrey. They circled the wooden fence, peered into the garden: no sign of Biscuit.
A neighbour approached. Looking for someone? she called.
Were looking for Walter Smiths doghe passed away. I was with him at the hospital, James explained softly.
Oh, how sad. He was a kind man. His son did nothingbarely handled the funeral, now hes after the house. As for Biscuit, yes, the wee thing hardly leaves the gate. Waits day and night for Walterhowled the night he died, and each night since. I suppose Simon, his son, finally lost patience and took him away. Been gone for days himself.
Did he say where? asked Emily.
Said he found someone to take him in. Didnt care for animals, that one. Its a puzzle how that man came from such a gentle father. Folks around here called Simon a sly fox. Hold onlet me show you a photo.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a photo.
Thats a Corgi, Emily smiled. Utterly adorable. Simon never mentioned where he took Biscuit?
Didnt say. Hes not the type. Just hoped someone else would bother. Goodness knows where Biscuit is now.
James and Emily thanked her but left heavy-heartedtoo late, perhaps, to help. They drove around the lanes, asked after a stray Corgi, but found nothing. James tried to call Simon, but his number had been blocked.
Lets hope Biscuits found somewhere safe, Emily said quietly as they sat in the car.
But then, fate intervened.
The ring road was blocked, so Emily turned onto the old country lane. Heading south, she suddenly slowed. James, look! she pointed. There, on the verge, sat a little dog, brown ears perked, exactly as the neighbours photo had shown.
Thats Biscuit! James exclaimed as they pulled over.
As James and Emily approached, the dog looked wary, huddled into the grass.
Biscuit! James called, voice warm. Biscuit!
The dog turned, ears twitching. For a moment, James crouched, hand extended, hoping the animal would come.
Its alright, Biscuit. I knew your Walter, he asked me to look after you. Would you like to come with us?
Biscuit hesitated, sniffed the airand then his tail gave a tentative wag. He shuffled forward, nose brushing Jamess outstretched hand. James gently ruffled the Corgis fur, feeling a wave of emotion as the dog nuzzled closer.
Emily blinked back tears, seeing the gentle trust grow. Soon, Biscuit hopped up onto her lap, paws muddy but eyes hopeful.
All three squeezed into the car, a family of sorts, heading home.
James and Emily beamedhad they not taken the diversion, this little dog might still be out there, stranded and alone. Biscuit watched the world flash past, tongue lolling.
He had new owners and a new home, andbest of allhands that smelled faintly of his late master.
*****
Thats some son he was, James muttered as they settled in that evening. Left Biscuit on the roadside and called it taken care of. Id love to tell him what I think.
Dont, James, Emily replied. Let life sort him out. Hell grow old, and when his turn comes, maybe his children will treat him the same. But now Biscuit has us. Thats what matters.
Youre right, James whispered, watching the little dog, already curled up on the couch, paws twitching in a dreamhappy at last.
James suspected he knew who Biscuit was running to in his sleep. Say hello to Walter for me, James thought fondly, as he slipped into the next room and opened the box with the ring.
That evening, James finally proposed to Emily. It wasnt in a restaurant, not as plannedbut sometimes the present moment, sudden and raw, is all you need.
And Emily said yes without a seconds doubt.
And thats the storyThey sat together on the rug, Biscuit dozing between them, while the last of the spring sunlight warmed the room. James slid the ring onto Emilys finger and she laugheda bright, effervescent sound that seemed to nudge away all the leftover sadness.
Biscuit stirred and, as if giving his approval, licked Emilys hand. James ruffled the dogs fur, a silent thank you to Walter and the twist of fate that had brought all of them here.
Later, over a simple supper and mugs of tea, they swapped stories of childhood and dreams, making plans for a walk the next morningBiscuits first stroll as part of their family. In that moment, James felt a strange, deep peace he hadnt known before: the pain, regret, and fear had faded, replaced by a gentle gratitude.
He promised himself he wouldnt waste a second more, not waiting for perfect places or grand gestures. Love arrived unexpectedly, as sudden and real as a stray dog waiting at a gate, and happiness was simply the courage to let it in.
That night, with Emilys hand in his and Biscuit finally safe and warm beside their bed, James closed his eyes, knowing that sometimes, the last wish of a stranger could rewrite the course of your own storyand gift you with a new beginning.
