That Elusive Cure 42

Dear Sally,

I wonder when they’ll let me call you. Hopefully the nurses and doctors are treating you right and you’re getting the treatment you need. When do you think they’ll let you out for a day? The weather has been fabulous. We need to go down to New Brighton with your kids. You and I can lie on towels while the two of them build sandcastles and play in the sea.

There’s one of those pirate reenactments they do at Fort Perch in a couple of weekends. I thought Wendy might let me take the kids there, that is if they haven’t let you out by then. I could make them pirate clothes and colour Peter’s face so it looks like he’s got stubble. Which one of them should I give an eye patch too? Remember all the costumes I made for Cass when she was little? You were always amazed at them. I might have some of the better ones in the attic still. Maybe I should get them down for your kids?

If the docs don’t let you out for an entire day, maybe they’ll let me take you to the park? We could go to Royden park and walk around watching the dogs and debating which one we liked best.

I’m thinking of you all the time, Sal. Hurry up and come home.

Kath xxxoooxxx

I reread the letter and decided I’d put just enough hints at taking her off safely for a day. The machine would only need ten minutes to do its thing, once it had recharged and was working again. She needed to last out another eleven days. That wasn’t so much.

Sealing up the letter, I decided once again to drive to the hospital. Most of the journey was on the motorway and driving fast suited me right now. I blasted the music but didn’t really listen what was playing and put my foot down far too heavily.

Jimmy flitted in and out of mind as I drove. He’d not spoken to me since my outburst yesterday and I wasn’t about to apologise for being angry at something he’d done wrong. We’d survived cancer where so many other couples can’t cope with the stress, and a strange machine from the future – if that’s what it was – is what does us in. The bed felt so big during the night, like a chasm had opened up between us. I’d give it another day then try talking to him. Today I was too wound up with thoughts of Sally to deal with him as well.

I concentrated on the road and tried to shake myself free of angry thoughts. Just in case I could go in to see her I needed to be calm and open to her needs, not hung up on my own issues. But I couldn’t help but think that I could have had her in the machine and well before the breakdown had even happened.

A road sign flashed past. Another half hour to go, roughly, before I got there. Someone else was travelling, Rich Newland. Next week he was coming to see the machine. My heart jumped at the thought. Somehow I had to put him off for a week, let the pod finish recharging. If I told him we were going on holiday that might work, but then again, if I were him, I’d have a second key. I pictured the big old fashioned design in my mind and wondered if they could even be copied. Everyone had those Yale type keys these days. I’d go down to the shop in Moreton later and see what the man could do about making a duplicate.

The other thing I wanted to do was nip down to the church and check on the progress of the machine, make sure it was recharging on schedule. Lots could happen with nearly two weeks until it was supposed to be working again. Who knows, maybe they’d release Sally before the machine had finished growing its nanoparticles and I could take her to the church without stealing her. Would tinkering with her brain change her? Maybe she’d come out of the pod with a different personality? How much of her and the way she behaved was down to being bipolar?

Finally the turn off for the hospital appeared and I veered off onto country roads. Just over an hour after leaving home, I parked at the hospital. Grabbing my letter I walked into the reception and got the attention of a nurse.

“It’s for Sally Jones,” I said as he accepted my letter. “How is she doing?”

The nurse gave me a professional blank stare. “We can only give information to her sister.”

“Am I able to visit her yet?” I leaned up against the counter.

“Sorry, but she’s not ready for that.”

“But I just want to see her for a moment.”

He crossed his arms. “I can’t allow that.”

“Can you pass messages between us?”

“I’m sorry but the only contact can be with relatives.”

I took a deep breath, my temper was still on quick boil. “But I’ve known Sally since we were four. I’ve seen more of her than anyone on this planet. Surely you can tell me something?”

“I’m sorry. Only relatives.”

“Would you give me a letter if she wrote one back?”

“In theory, yes.”

In theory. What a load of tosh. Frustrated I left and started the long drive home, but not after staring for ages at the windows and wondering if Sally was behind one of them, staring back at me.