Dr Bairstow and Mrs Partridge stood quietly outside. His head was bowed and the distress on her face stopped me in my tracks.
I said to Helen, ‘Who? Who is it? What’s happened?’
‘It’s David. Take a deep breath, Max. You must be calm. He doesn’t have very long.’
No. This could not be happening. We’d just been talking. How could this be happening?
I stood in the doorway, took several breaths and lowered my shoulders. When I had achieved a level of calm, I stepped into the room. They’d made it warm and quiet. The lights were on low. He lay on his back, hands across his stomach, chest rising and falling with every painful breath. I looked in vain for machines, drips, oxygen even. There was nothing. He might as well have been in his own bedroom.
I stepped back out again and said in a fierce undertone, ‘Where’s the oxygen? Where’s the equipment? Why aren’t you treating him?’
She sighed and looked sadder than I could ever remember.
‘He’s refused treatment, Max. No,’ she said as I tried to speak, ‘it’s not a spur of the moment thing, he signed the papers months ago.’
‘Helen …’
‘Max, not everyone takes it all the way to the wire like you do. Now go and see him. Time is precious.’
I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was happy. I thought he enjoyed his job. That he’d come to terms with his life. How could I have missed this?
I dashed an angry sleeve across my eyes, sniffed and walked quietly into the room. Helen followed me in.
‘It’s difficult for him to speak.’
I nodded, sat carefully on the bed and leaned forward so he could see me.
‘Hey.’
He tried to smile. He looked ghastly: his face was grey, his lips bloodless and he had dark shadows under his eyes. His breath rasped in and out, as he struggled to breathe. I’d always known he was vulnerable to infections; this looked like pneumonia. How could it be so quick? For how long had he been ill and I hadn’t noticed?
I gently took his hands and leaned into his face.
‘David.’ His eyelids flickered. ‘You have to come back to the office right now. I can’t find the Pericles file.’ He caught his breath, which I guessed was a kind of laugh.
I said, ‘Stop that. You know Dr Foster doesn’t like patients laughing.’
He smiled and gripped my hands feebly.
I lowered my voice. ‘You were right about me and Leon, David. I’m going to fix it. Now you have to get better, so you can tell me you told me so. Let Helen treat you. Please. I can’t do without you.’
His eyes never left me.
I kept whispering, ‘Don’t die. Don’t die. David, don’t die,’ as if I could talk him back to health. As if by sheer force of will, I could prevent him leaving us. Leaving me.
‘David. You’re my friend. Please don’t die.’
His lips moved and I leaned close to hear him. Faintly, oh so faintly, he said, ‘Knock … knock.’
I swallowed and said, ‘Who’s there?’
But he never spoke again.
I sat and held his hands, unable to comprehend what was happening, as he quietly faded away.
After an age, Helen touched my shoulder. ‘Let me see to him, Max. Come on, up you get.’
I got stiffly to my feet as Helen and Hunter moved around the bed. I walked slowly out of the room. The Boss and Mrs Partridge were still there.
I said, ‘I’d like his name to go up on the Boards.’ They nodded. ‘He should be buried in his blues as well. He was an historian and a good one.’
Dr Bairstow said, ‘Of course.’
I walked off down the corridor, down the stairs, through the doors, along the corridor, through the hall, up the stairs, around the gallery, turned right instead of left, up a different set of attic stairs, tapped at a door and went straight in.
He was sitting in an armchair, open files spread on his lap and around his feet. We looked at each other. He scooped up the whole lot and tossed them on the floor. I kicked the door shut behind me, walked across the room, climbed onto his lap, curled into a tight ball, and wept the tears of a lifetime.
I woke the next morning feeling absolutely dreadful. My eyes felt gummy, my throat raw, and I appeared to have slept in my clothes. I tried to sit up and found I was cocooned in blankets, which had somehow wound themselves around me. Then I discovered I wasn’t in the right bed. Or the right bedroom. Then I remembered why.
David …
I thrashed around a bit, got my arms free and dragged myself into a sitting position. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I looked around. There was a note propped up on the bedside table.
No one expects to see you today. I won’t be back before noon, so take your time. LF.
There was a flask of tea next to the clock. It was only just gone nine. I had plenty of time. So long as I was gone before he got back. I poured a cup, thumped the pillows a bit, sat back, and sipped. It was hot and sweet and just what I needed. I was just taking another gulp when, after a brief tap on the door, Chief Farrell walked in.