Part 2 (1/2)

*Ah, yes! The little fighter!'

I nodded.

*Can you see him?'

I nodded vaguely in the direction of the pouting baby.

The nurse tapped lightly on the window. *Such lovely red hair,' she said, pointing elsewhere, *like he has a little rusty head.'

I nodded some more.

*Isn't he lovely?' she beamed.

*Delightful,' I said, and turned back to the wards. As I reached the doors again they swung open.

*Ach, hiya, Dan, how's it goin'?'

Patricia's father smiled up at me. He'd shrunk since I'd last met him. Within a year. Shrunk with age. Shrunk with living in a retirement community on the windy north-west coast. Shrunk with having his wife die on him. Shrunk with waiting for death.

*Hiya, John,' I said, *you're looking well.'

*Did I see you looking through at us a minute ago?'

*Aye.'

He nodded. *You went up to look at the kid.'

*Aye.'

*Lovely kid.'

*Yeah.'

He put his hand out to me and we shook. *I know how it is, son,' he said.

*Thanks. I thought maybe you were, y'know, him.'

He squeezed my hand a little tighter, then let go. *Aye, I know.'

*How is she?'

*Tired. Irritable. Same as ever.' He patted my arm. *I'm sorry to rush on, but I've a train to catch.'

*I could give you a lift if . . .'

*Nah, never worry . . . away and see your wife.'

I smiled, we shook again, then he moved stoop-shouldered and stiff towards the stairs. I watched him negotiate the top flight, then pushed my way into the ward.

Patricia saw me immediately. She gave me a half-smile half-grimace which said it all.

I smiled at the woman in the next bed, and her visitor, then stopped at the foot of Patricia's bed and raised a hand in salute. *Hail Caesarean,' I said.

The half-smile didn't develop much. *h.e.l.lo, Dan.' Her voice was weak, her face wan.

*I come bearing gifts.'

I moved along the side of the bed, bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, then handed her the paper bag.

She crinkled her eyes in mock delight. *Thanks,' she said. She gave the bag an exploratory shake then set it down on the bed. *Sit,' she said.

I pulled up a black plastic chair. *Open it.'

*I'll look later, I'm just . . .'

*Go on, have a look . . .'

*Dan, I . . .'

*Just take a look . . .'

She tutted. She opened the bag and peered inside. She lifted out an egg, examined it for a moment, then replaced it and removed a handful of monkey nuts.

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh,' I said.

*What?'

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh.'

*Dan . . .'

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh.'

*Dan!'

*You don't remember?'

*I don't remember what?'

I puffed out my stomach, shook my head petulantly. *Hardboiled eggs and nuts, huh!'

*Dan!'

*Laurel and Hardy! Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh! Stan goes to see Ollie in hospital, he has his leg up in plaster, he brings him hard . . .'

She dropped the bag on the bed. *Jesus, Dan, why do you always have to be different? You couldn't just bring me a bunch of flowers or grapes, could you? It always has to be something funny. Something witty.'