Southend U3A

Writing for Fun

Something did not feel quite right - Janice Osborne

July 2014

The pearly pink and grey light of the dawn filtered though the lace curtains and played a dance on Mary's lined and work worn face. Her eyelids fluttered open returning her, reluctantly, to full consciousness. She sighed heavily. Something did not feel quite right. Filled with foreboding Mary absent-mindedly began rubbing her left arm which had just started aching with a dull persistence. Being of a prosaic nature she shrugged off these feelings of disquiet and tried to ignore the pain. Briskly she threw off the bedclothes and donning her dressing gown made her way to the bathroom to complete her usual morning ablutions.

Freshly showered and dressed in her serviceable underwear, white blouse, green wool skirt, thick support stockings and brown brogues Mary sat down at her dressing table to apply her morning face cream. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at her was homely, wrinkled with lines of care and wear and framed with a regimented halo of tightly permed white curls. At eighty years of age she felt she could expect a few lines and wrinkles but wished she could see some vestige of the bright eyed and bubbly young girl that she used to be. Instead she saw an old face that was devoid of light or expression. She wished she did not look so cold and unapproachable. All her adult life she had held people at arm's length for fear that any friendly overtures made by her would end in rejection and hurt to herself. She had had more than her fair share of being hurt.

Not a day went by without her thoughts turning to Albert, her long dead fiancé of world war two. She had loved him with a passion that had shaken her to her Methodist foundations. When he had received his call up papers it had taken all the resolution she could muster to spurn Albert's ardent love making attempts to make her his own, but resist him she did as her upbringing and chapel demanded. So Albert marched off to war with their passion unrequited and had never returned.

Mary had nearly lost her reason at the news that her beloved had died on the field of battle never to return, and that she had been the one to reject the joy of the consummation of their love and now would never know or have precious memories of that passion to cling to.

It was now the spring of the year 2000: the year of new beginnings, so people said, but all Mary could look forward to this morning was the usual daily walk to her friend Maud's house. Today, being Monday, it was to collect her shopping list and then go to the shops for her as Maud was frail and housebound.

Mary put on her serviceable brown wool coat, picked up her large shopping bag and putting inside her purse pocketed her back door key left and left the neat little terrace house that had been her home for the last forty five years. She began to stride purposefully down the yard to the gate opening into the back alley but the sight of the tin bath hanging from a nail on the wall of the old lean-to made her pause. Mary dropped her shopping bag and again rubbed her left arm. What was the matter with her? She was never ill. Now she could feel discomfort creeping to her neck and chest as well. She gave herself a mental shake. This would never do Maud was the one that needed a little sympathy not her! Her gaze was again drawn back to the bath. Jack, her late husband, had used that bath every day of their married life to wash away the grime of sweat and dirt gathered daily from gruelling shifts down the local pit.

Jack, poor Jack, poor her. She had married reluctantly at the age of thirty five, more to escape her parents and their constant bemoaning of having an unwed daughter still living at home than affection for Jack. He had been a fellow worshipper at the chapel and was a man of few words and even fewer outward shows of love and affection. However, he was sober, hard working and had set his mind on having Mary for his wife. Feeling guilty that she had not married him for love Mary vowed that he would not find her wanting and gave him all that he could desire from a loving wife. Fortunately, Jack's needs were few. As long as the house and his clothes were clean, his wife warm in his bed when he needed, which was not often, meals ready and the tin bath full of hot water when he came home from work he did not complain. The trouble was he did not praise or show love and affection either.

Mary sighed, how she had craved all her life for the sensual, passionate years that she knew she and Arthur would have shared had he come home to her. Even now these thoughts brought a catch to the back of her throat and an ache to her heart. Stop it woman, this will not do, life has to go on she chided herself.

Emerging from the back alley onto the road to the village and in an effort to overcome herself pity Mary picked up her pace and strode out determinedly for Maud's house.

The sudden onslaught of crushing pain in her chest drove the breath from her body and her body to her knees. Mary could not even cry out. The scene around her started to fade and she fell forwards to lie in a crumpled heap on the cold unforgiving pavement. Ted Tyler was putting out his dustbin when he saw her fall. He ran over to her and knelt down beside her. She was not moving and seemed unconscious. He pulled out his mobile, punched in 999 and asked for an ambulance. He knew Mary and called her name several times. She did not respond. At a loss all he could think to do was to cover her with his anorak and wait.

Arthur, my love is that you? Mary could see Arthur on his knees in front of her silhouetted against the bright white light behind him. Oh, you have come back to me. I have waited so long. Where have you been my dearest love? I cannot wait any longer. Love me my sweet. Love me now.

The paramedic took Ted's place, on his knees, beside Mary and quickly evaluated the situation. Mary was in the throes of a severe heart attack. Speedy treatment was of paramount importance. 'What did you say her name was?' he asked Ted.

'Mary, Mary Watts,' Ted replied, 'What's the matter with her, is she going to be alright?'

The paramedic did not reply but swiftly, with the help of his partner, transferred Mary onto the gurney and then into the ambulance. He bent forward to see if he could feel any breath coming from Mary's mouth or nose and detected a faint shirring of air but he could only find a faint irregular heartbeat when he felt her neck for a pulse. With practised ease he fitted the oxygen mask over her face, set up a line and injected drugs to hopefully jolt the heart back to a normal and stronger rhythm. He felt again for a pulse and finding no change began unfastening her coat and the buttons of her blouse. He then pushed down her undergarments. 'Mary, can you hear me?'

Oh yes my love I can hear you. I can feel your breath on my face and the warmth of your fingers on my neck and bosom. Oh how I have waited for you and this moment. Hurry, hurry!

He attached the sticky electrodes of the automated defibrillator to Mary's now bared chest and attached the leads to the machine. The machine immediately detected an arrhythmia and showed a light indicating he was to shock the patient. 'Clear!' The button was pushed and a shock discharged. Mary's back arched in a rictus that parodied the climax of sexual consummation.

Mary felt the sexual thrill of anticipation travel down her spine. I so want you my love, let us be joined now at la . . .

The defibrillator showed that the heart had now stopped beating. 'Clear!' Nothing. The defibrillator indicated that another shock would not help the patient. The paramedic sat back on his heels. Sorrow overwhelmed him. 'She's gone Harry.' He shouted to his buddy now sitting in the driver's seat waiting for the word to press his foot to the floor and head for A &E. 'She's gone. There is nothing more we can do for her.' He removed the oxygen mask and pulled the edges of her blouse together to preserve Mary's modesty, even in death, and unfolded the blanket so that it covered her face. 'You know Harry I could have sworn that at the very end she smiled.'