A Final Request
No, I wont be going home John mutters, wincing from the pain. And Ill never see Emily again. I wanted to propose to her. Never managed it Why has it come to this?
Oh come on now, dont worry so much, the nurse says with a reassuring smile, noticing how pale John has gone on arrival at A&E. Youll be just fine.
I doubt it, John manages.
Then, silence and dread. He can only watch in terror as hes prepared for theatre.
*****
Johns always hated hospitals.
The dislike has lingered since he was a childevery visit meant pain, and worst of all, no one ever bothered to apologise for it, or for the emotional trauma.
What are you making such a fuss for, Johnny? the nurse used to say while pricking his finger for a blood test. Youre a big boy now, off to school soon. No need to cry like a girl, is there? Chin up.
Hed stare back at her through his tears, try to escape, fail, and keep sobbing. No, he didnt feel shamejust pain and injustice.
On the walk home from the surgery with his mother, John could talk of nothing but his vow never, ever to go to the doctors again.
Id rather die than set foot there, he declared, unequivocal.
Darling, dont talk like that, his mum tried to placate him. Doctors only want people to be well. Theyre good people, really. You mustnt be frightened of them.
As if John glanced woefully at the pricked finger from which all the life seemed to have been drawn. They can treat themselves, just leave me alone!
Need I mention how he fared the day his parents dragged him to the dentist for an extraction? He screamed so loudly he could be heard out in the street, even with the windows closed.
Not the fondest memories.
So, its hardly a surprise grown-up John still cant stand hospitals or people in white coats. If he can avoid anything remotely medical, he does.
But fate, ever capricious, landed him in hospital all the sameappendicitis.
The pain crippled him just as he and Emily were about to head for dinner. She had no choice but to ring for an ambulance.
Ill be fine, Emily, dont ring anyone John pleaded.
Have you lost your mind? Emilys having none of it. I can see youre in agony. Its probably your appendixit happened to me once, remember?
And so, Johnonce again, against his willfound himself in St. Michaels Hospital.
You can imagine his state.
The very idea of a surgeon poking around inside him made his spirits sink.
When he saw two sullen porters silently wheeling a trolley past, the kind who have just finished with a patient, an overwhelming sense of doom washed over him.
Thats it. Im never going home John sighs, the pain doubling him over. And Ill never see Emily again. I wanted to propose to her. Never got the chance What have I done to deserve this?
Oh, dont be so glum, says the nurse with a supportive smile. Youll be fine.
I doubt it
Honestly, the procedures simple, and you got here in good time. If youd left it a few hours, there could have been complications.
In the end, the operation went according to plan. None of the horrors John feared came to pass. For once in his life, a hospital visit wasnt as dreadful as he expected.
They had him off to sleep right there in theatre, and by the time he was conscious again, the worst was over. By evening he was back in the ward.
And that night, John slept like the dead. Only the nurse changing his IV woke him, briefly, before he drifted off again.
Come morning
John discovered he had company: an elderly man occupied the neighbouring bed.
Just my luck, John thinks, disgruntled. Hell probably want to reminisce and talk my ear off. Im in no mood.
No, all John wants now is peace and quiet.
He doesnt even call Emily. He just sends her a text, says hes fine and not to worry, and puts his mobile under the pillow. He turns his mind instead to the missed proposal, stung by fates timing.
Hes lived with Emily for over a year, and just last night hed planned to pop the question. Booked their favourite restaurant, arranged for the musicians to play her favourite song. The waiter was supposed to deliver the ring on a silver tray.
It all should have been perfect.
But life had other ideas. Instead of debating the future with his love, John is nursing stitches in a hospital bed, sharing it with an unknown pensioner.
To Johns relief, though, the old man isnt much for small talk, either.
He greets John, then mostly mutters to himself, especially as he repeatedly tries, and fails, to get through to someone on the phone. He rings for hours, until the mobile dies.
He doesnt have a chargernever found the time to pack one. And no one on staff can produce an ancient charger for a brick phone.
The sight of him staring at a black screen, tears welling, makes John uncomfortable andstrangelyashamed. Clearly, this man is in difficulty, and here Johns been judging him.
Eventually, John sits up on his bed and, after a pause, glances at the man. Everything alright?
No, I cant reach my son, comes the old mans sad reply.
He doesnt know youre here? John asks, surprised.
He doesthe nurse rang him when I arrived in hospital. Still wont speak to me. We rowed six months ago, just before my birthday. He wanted to stick me in a care home and flog my house. I said no. Not for the house, really
He sighs and his story pours out. A week ago, heart trouble landed him there. The doctors had stabilised him, but said he needed surgery.
Its set for the day after tomorrow, he says quietly. Im just frightened Ill go before the operation.
Nonsense! John tries to lift his spirits. Doctors are here to save lives. I had my appendix whipped out yesterdaylook at me, still in one piece.
The old man manages a smile but doesnt bother explaining the difference between an appendix and a dodgy heart.
Im just worried about my dog, he says after a moment. Shes out there on her own. I wanted my son to check in on Molly if anything happens to me. Or at least take her in, or find her a home. My neighbours already have their hands full with their own pets. I hoped he might do that much. Its not too much to ask. And the house would be hishes been after selling it for years. Seems fair. But he wont take my calls. Even when the nurse rang him, he refused to speak to me. Some son, eh
He turns away, visibly upset.
John only mutters, Thats rough
I just worry about Molly. Wholl look after her? Shes only a little thing; how will she manage?
The mans words seem oddly madwhy fret about a dog with a heart operation looming? But then the old chap recounts how he and Molly found each other, and John begins to understand.
I found her on my birthday, six months ago, the man explains. My son didnt call, and my wifeGod rest her soulhas been gone five years now. Funny thing, I dreamt of her the night before: she was holding a dog on a lead, waving and smiling. Next morning, as Im out for milk, theres this little dog tied up in the rain, shivering. I asked around, waited for hours, but nobody claimed her. When it got dark, I couldnt leave her there, so I took her home. Silly, but I think it was a birthday present from my wife, somehow. She saw I was lonely and sent me a friend.
Well, stranger things have happened, John nods, not entirely believing but unwilling to dampen the mans spirits.
We got on brilliantly, me and Molly. I put up ads everywhere, trying to find her old owners, but nobody ever came forward. Im almost glad. Shes more than a dogshes well, shes what gives my life meaning now.
That evening, John cant stop thinking about the dog left outside, or the son ignoring calls from his ailing father.
How could anyone be so cold?
When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of a small mongrelso like Mollywandering the streets, searching. Oddly, in the dream, John follows her, always a few steps behind, not sure why, just knowing he should.
He wakes abruptly to panic: the old man is clutching his chest, gasping.
Shall I call a nurse? John jumps up.
No, not yet. Ring my sonTom, his numbers on the slip over there, the man breathes. Tell him to come if he can. I just want to say goodbye. If he cant, ask him to see Mollys alright. At least then Ill know shell be looked after.
John hesitates, torn, but picks up his phone, grabs the scrap of paper, and dials the shaky digits.
Hello! Is this Tom? Im in the hospital with your father He pauses, realising he never actually asked the chaps name.
Edward Collins, croaks the old man.
With Edward Collins. Hes unwell and would like you to visit if possible.
Is he dying? Tom suddenly seems more interested. Which hospital? St. Michaels?
Thats the one. Ward 3B, room 314.
John, deciding to be thorough, gives the address as well, then drops the phone and dashes for a nurse. He finds her napping behind the desk.
Spluttering out the basics, John hustles back to the ward.
How are you, Mr Collins? he asks gently, taking his hand. The nurse is calling a doctor. You hang in there! Your son said hed come. Just stay with us now. Open your eyes, please.
Edwards heart stops before the sleepy night doctor sets foot in the room.
A check for a pulse, a glance at the pupils, a few softly muttered words, and the doctors gone. Twenty minutes later, those same porters John saw on his way in quietly collect the old man.
*****
Your father died in my arms, John tells Tom, when he arrives the next day.
Well small mercies, Tom replies stiffly. At least it was quick. Didnt suffer. Wouldnt have wanted to end up bedriddenno ones got the time for that these days. Ive got a family, a job. This really is for the best.
Edward Collins really wanted you to find a good home for his dog, John says quietly.
His dog? Oh, the stray. Ive no idea whod want her. He refused to go to the care home because of her, you know. Wouldve been better for him. He never listened to reason
That was his last request, John replies, reproach clear in his voice. Surely you could do this much? The house you wanted so badly is now yours.
Tom gives him a perplexed look, gathers up his fathers old mobile and the scrap of paper, and leaves without saying goodbye.
John slumps onto his bed, heavy-hearted. Hes sorry for Edward Collins. Seventy-seven isnt that old; some people make it to a hundred. He could have, easily, if fate had been kinder.
And now the dogs left alone, with no home or friend in the world.
I doubt Tom will bother with Molly, John thinks. Hell sell the house and leave her out on the street. If shes lucky, the neighbours might feed her. If not
That night, John dreams again of Edward Collins, roaming the streets, looking for his little dog, calling and crying. Watching, John finds his own tears fallinghe cant remember the last time he cried like this.
From the day he promised himself never to cry like a girl.
Those dreams continue, even after John returns home. Every morning, he wakes thoughtful, and Emily soon notices.
Johnny, are you alright?
Yes, Im fine. Just thinking.
Whats on your mind? Emily asks gently.
I shared my room with a pensionerin for a heart operation, but he didnt make it. He had a dog well, now shes alone.
No relatives to take her in?
Only his son, Tom. Theyd fallen out, never reconciled. Edward rang him every day from hospital; Tom never picked up. By the time he came, his father was gone. When I mentioned the dog, he didnt care. Hes only interested in the house. I watched him call an estate agent straight away. Now, I worry about the little dog. Ive never even seen her, but it breaks my heart. A good man like that, hed only have a good dog too.
Well, lets go and look for her, Emily says. If shes still out there, we can give her a home.
Are you serious? You dont mind?
No! Itd be lovely to have a dog. Well go for walks together. Id love it.
John grins and kisses her. But Ive no idea of the address
Im sure someone at St Michaels can help, Emily says. Leave it to me. But first, lets buy a nice box of chocolates and some quality coffee in case we need to sweeten the deal.
And, as it turns out, a bit of chocolate and coffee works wondersat first, the receptionist at the hospital is unmoved by Johns request for confidential information. But once Emily flashes a warm smile and explains, the woman glances around before hurriedly scribbling down the address.
Forty minutes later theyre on the outskirts of town, pulling up by an old wooden fence, searching for any sign of the dog.
A neighbour emerges. Lost, are you? No one lives there now, you know.
I know, John replies. I was with Edward Collins, in hospital. He passed away while I was there.
Oh, poor Edward! He was such a sweet man. We dont get many like him these days. May he rest in peace. His sonwell, he didnt even organise a proper funeral. Buried him quietly, now planning to do the house up and sell it for a profit.
That sounds about right, John sighs. What about the dogMolly? Any sign of her? He worried about her to the very end.
Oh, Mollyyes, she barely moved an inch from that gate, poor thing, waiting for him to come home. Every night shed howl and whimper. I understood, but Tom, whos staying at the house, yelled at her, then drove her off somewhere. Hes not been back for several daysI expect hes returned to his family.
Do you know where he took her? And what does she look like?
Oh, just a sweet little thinghang on, Ive got a picture.
She produces her mobile and shows them a photo. Shes a corgi, Emily says with a smile. Adorable! Did Tom say where he took her?
He said something vague about finding her a home. Certainly wasnt going to take her with himhes not an animal person. Hard to believe such a good man had such an unsentimental son.
They thank the neighbour and head off, both subdued. Too late, they realisethey could have come earlier and taken Molly themselves. Now, who knows where she is?
They canvass local streets, ask passersby, but no ones seen a stray corgi. John attempts to ring Tom, but his number is now blocked.
Well have to hope Mollys alright, Emily says quietly, seeing Johns distress.
Neither really believes it, but hope is all they have.
Then, fate steps in.
A traffic jam ahead means Emily takes a detour through country lanes. A few miles in, she slows, pointing to the verge where a dog, unmistakably the one theyd just seen in the photo, sits forlornly.
John, isnt that Molly?
It must be! Lets check.
They stop, get out, and walk towards the dog. The closer they get, the more certain they become.
Molly! John calls out.
She flinches, turns, and looks at them, uncertain.
Its her! John says. He kneels, extending his hand. Molly, dont be scared. I knew Mr Collinshe wanted someone to look after you. Would you like to come home with us?
Molly hesitates, sniffing, then suddenly her tail wags and she nuzzles his handshe can still smell her late owner.
John strokes her, smoothing her head. Tears glistenon Mollys face as well as his.
Emily watches, eyes damp, as the little dog presses against John, as if recognises him as family.
A while later, all three pile into the car, heading home, a peculiar kind of peace settling over them.
John and Emily are overjoyednot only for missing the traffic, but for finding Molly, Edwards cherished companion.
And Molly Mollys simply glad to have finally found people who want hernot someone whod toss her aside.
She has a new home, new people, loving hands that still faintly smell of someone she loved. What more can a dog want?
*****
Thats family for you, John mutters once theyre home, glancing at Molly asleep on the sofa. He found her a new home, did he? Id love to have a word with him.
Johnny, leave him be. Weve got Molly now, thats what matters. Life will sort his kind outit always does. Hell get old, hell be left, and only then will he understand how it felt. And by then, itll be too late.
I know youre right John agrees, watching Molly twitch in her sleep, chasing something happy in her dreams.
He thinks he knows what it isor who.
Give our love to Edward, Molly, he whispers.
That evening, John finally proposes to Emilyno restaurant, no elaborate scheme. Just here, just now. Hes learnt his lesson: dont wait for the perfect moment. It may never come.
He asks, and Emily, without hesitation, says yes.
And so, a new chapter begins.
