Visiting Hours

It was an overcast Tuesday morning. Uninspiring light cascaded through the window to the left-hand side of the dimly lit private room. Inside, a middle-aged female patient was lying in bed asleep, attached to a heart monitor and drip.

Into the room walked a doctor and nurse. They were both wearing full PPE and the former was holding documents, here to conduct a morning evaluation. The nurse proceeded to the end of the bed and looked down at the resting patient, whilst the doctor walked around to look at the apparatus, before examining the woman.

‘All vital signs are good, within normal range,’ Doctor Munji said, as he scribbled notes onto the document.

Nurse Fletcher noticed the patient’s strained, heavy breathing. ‘Do you think it’d be best to put her onto a ventilator?’

‘I don’t think the damage to her lungs is too severe, and we have a limited stock until tomorrow. So for now, let’s monitor her and can resort to that if necessary.’ He then looked up at Nurse Fletcher. ‘Administer pain relief if she requests it.’

‘Okay.’

Doctor Munji then examined the patient’s face and could see her stirring from a restless slumber. He then spoke slowly and softly. ‘Hello, Mrs Tenby. How are you this morning? Sorry that I have to speak to you wearing this imposing mask. It is hospital regulation at the moment. I hope you can hear me properly.’

'Is she registering what you are saying?’ Nurse Fletcher asked.

The patient became animated and looked evidently discomforted by the sight of the doctor in the mask. Doctor Munji looked back at the nurse and nodded to answer her question.

Mrs Tenby looked around and gestured to the bedside table where there was a jug of water. The nurse responded by walking around and poured a cup. Meanwhile, the doctor activated control to put the patient into a seated position. The nurse then walked over, placed a straw into the cup, and then assisted the patient to take a sip.

‘There you go,’ said Nurse Fletcher.

‘You are looking a lot better compared to yesterday, Mrs Tenby,’ Doctor Munji continued. ‘Nurse Fletcher, here, is going to monitor you regularly and hopefully, we can get you back up to health in no time.’

Mrs Tenby finished sipping the water and then the nurse returned the cup to the bedside table. The patient then looked up at the doctor and managed a slight smile before coughing.

‘Thank you, doctor,’ she croaked, and then looked towards the nurse. ‘Thank you, both.’

‘That is quite all right. Nurse, I am going to do the rest of my morning round of the ward.’

‘Okay.’

‘Very good—I will come again this afternoon to see how you are doing, Mrs Tenby. So please rest.’

They then watched as the doctor made a few additions to his documents, before leaving. Nurse Fletcher remained standing over the patient and looked down at her.

‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked.

‘Like I have been dragged through a hurricane, but I don’t feel as bad as I did yesterday.’

‘That is good to hear. Do you have an appetite?’

‘I suppose I could manage something.’

‘Good—shall I get the menu so that you can make a selection?’

‘No, dear, you don’t have to make all that effort. I just want something simple.’

‘How about a couple of pieces of toast?’

‘Yes, that would be nice.’

‘Not a problem—I will go and make you some shortly.’

‘Thank you, dear. You are such a sweet girl’ —Mrs Tenby then looked into the nurse’s eyes and squinted— ‘and you have such striking green eyes! They were barely noticeable behind the mask’s reflection.’

Nurse Fletcher giggled. ’Thank you.’

‘It is nice to know there is a human behind there. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-seven.’

‘I remember being your age, although it does feel like a long time ago! Feeling this ill especially does have that effect.’

‘Well, you are looking great.’

‘Very flattering, dear, but I am sure I probably look as bad as I feel right now.’

‘Would you like if I put on the TV for you?’

‘That would be nice. I don’t think I have the energy to concentrate for very long, but I would appreciate some background noise to keep me company.’

Nurse Fletcher then walked over to the TV suspended on a bracket in the top corner of the room. She then turned it on and started flicking through the channels.

‘Is there anything you would like to watch? BBC News?’

‘I have had too much of the news recently, dear. Just put on something else and keep the volume low.’

‘Okay.’ The nurse then found something suitable, before turning to stand at the end of the bed. ‘I will go and make your breakfast. Would you like a cup of tea as well?’

‘I really don’t think I could stomach that right now, dear. I have the water here. The toast will do just fine for now.’

‘Very well, love. See you shortly.’ Nurse Fletcher then walked towards the doorway, turned to smile once more at Mrs Tenby, and then gently shut the door.

Mrs Tenby then looked half-heartedly at the TV, whilst consumed in pensive thought. She remained in that position for a few moments until hearing something coming from the window. At first, she ignored it, but then her full attention was drawn in its direction when a noise grew louder as though something was drawing nearer to her bedroom. But nothing appeared. She then became drowsy, before falling asleep.

A few moments later, a young man appeared on the opposite side of the window. He had scaled the pipework and windowsills until finding the patient’s room. When he first saw the woman, he cupped his hands to the window to block out external light so that he could look inside. He then leaned back to survey the scene.

‘There she is,’ he thought. ‘I thought that this would be the right room, because of what that man told me. Fair play that he wasn’t just bluffing. I hope he doesn’t tell anybody. Just as well this part of the hospital isn’t by the roadside. I didn’t have anyone asking questions. It wasn’t too hard climbing up, but I nearly lost my footing getting up here. All those years of climbing over fences have finally come in handy. For the right reasons, anyway. Shit, I’ve got actual bird shit on my jeans! Thank God I don’t have height issues, being this high up. It is just as well there is space on this mouldy windowsill for me to perch myself on. This place really is a dump. It should have been pulled down years ago. By the looks of it, it doesn’t look any better inside, either. The place could do with a lick of paint. But at least she has been given a private room. Funny – it looks like a prison in there. I wish I could go inside. To sit by her bedside. To be near to her. But I can’t go any further than here. Not only is this window latched shut, but it would be too much of a risk. It is not safe in there. She is too weak. Right now, all that I can do is sit here looking at her, making sure she is all right, keeping a watchful eye. Doing what any son would do.’

Suddenly, Nurse Fletcher reappeared holding a tray with a plate of toast. The son reacted by pushing his frame up against the corner of the adjoining building, out of eyeshot. Meanwhile, the nurse walked over to the bed, placed down the plate on the table careful as not to disturb the patient, and then walked over to turn off the TV, before leaving the room once more.

The son then reappeared and looked into the room.

‘I hope that they are treating her all right in there. Giving her the best care they can offer. She isn’t the type of person to ever cause a fuss and would rather not say anything. She has often let people take advantage of her good nature in the past. That toast looks burnt. She prefers brown. If I was able to, I would have brought her something to eat. You know, like people do when they are visiting relatives in hospital. A basket of fruit or something like that. It looks like they don’t have many of her belongings here, either. None of her clothes. Wearing them makes her feel proud. Now she has been reduced to wearing a hospital gown. Perhaps I should have dressed better, but I wouldn’t want to get marks on my best, climbing up here. Besides, everything is like a disaster film in there, with all the masks and stuff. She wouldn’t tell the difference anyway. What is important is that I am here to see her and it breaks my heart seeing her lying there with all those cables and fluids going in and out of her body. This is surreal. She looks exhausted. If I could do anything right now, to change what has happened, to make things right, I would take her position in that bed. Without question. I know she wouldn’t approve. But she has done so much for me, she has sacrificed and did what she could to do to give me a good upbringing, despite everything. And there she is—suffering. If there was any justice in this world, it should be me there instead paying my dues. Not her, not now.’

Mrs Tenby then awoke and looked over to the bedside table where the lukewarm toast was sat. Her gaze then averted towards the window where she saw the blurred silhouette of her son, who she could not recognise.

He started waving to get her attention. Mrs Tenby looked puzzled and then distressed by this stranger’s appearance.

‘Mum, Mum, it’s me! It is Bradley! What?’

‘Ahh, she can’t see me properly because she isn’t wearing her glasses. I forgot: she has bad long-range vision. No problem with crosswords but can’t watch her soaps without wearing them. I hope that she has them somewhere here. Look at her gazing at me. I must be a blur to her. Just a large smudge on the window. Like a shadow of someone she used to know.’

Mrs Tenby leaned over to the bedside table, took another sip of water, looked towards the entrance of the room, cleared her throat, and then started calling for the nurse.

Alarmed, Bradley responded by pushing himself up against the wall once more. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

Nurse Fletcher reappeared and rushed to the patient.

‘Yes, Mrs Tenby, what is the matter?’

‘Sorry, dear, but I want to look out of the window whilst having my breakfast. But I don’t have my glasses.’

‘Of course, love, not a problem. Do you have them with you?’

‘Yes, I can imagine they are in the handbag the paramedic brought.’

‘Okay. Do you want me to bring the bag to you?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind, dear, can you instead find them and bring them to me?’

‘By all means. Bear with me.’

The nurse then picked up the bag, placed it on the bedside table, and carefully rummaged through, picked out the glasses case, before walking over to give them to Mrs Tenby.

‘Oh, thank you, dear. You are ever so kind.’

‘That is quite all right. Now, I must attend to another patient, but if you have any other concerns—feel free to use this buzzer to call for me or one of the other nurses.’

‘You angel. Thank you.’

The patient then watched avidly as the nurse left, before putting on her glasses. As she did this, Bradley then reappeared in the window.

She was taken aback.

‘Bradley! What are you doing here?’ she scoffed, ’how are you outside the window? Are you levitating or something!’

‘Hello, mum!’ His voice was muffled.

Mrs Tenby leaned in to listen, but it was evident that the window was too thick for her to hear through.

‘I can’t hear you. Well, that is no good, is it? Making all this effort to visit and you can’t even speak to your poor mother whilst she is lying here suffering. Typical!’

She then motioned: pointing at herself, shaking her head, ringing her ear, and then pointing at him.

‘Of course, it is double-glazed! Hang on a sec…’

In the likelihood of something like this happening, Bradley had come prepared. He pulled out a scrunched-up notepad and lidless pen from his back pocket. He then wrote: ’HELLO, MUM’ in big bold letters on one side. He then pushes the notepad up to the window for her to read.

‘Hello to you as well. Can you understand what I am saying?’

Bradley nodded and then wrote another note.

‘You can lip read what I am saying. It is just as well you don’t have my poor eyesight. What are you writing now?’

Another note was placed up to the window.

‘You want what? You want me to open the window? It’s a very small space, Bradley, I don’t think you can fit through. O117h, unless you want it to be opened so that you can speak through to me? Wait a minute…’ Mrs Tenby then leaned across and activated the small buzzer. Bradley disappeared once more. A few moments later, another nurse appeared and walked up to the bed.

‘Yes, Mrs Tenby? Is everything okay?’

‘Sorry to disturb you, dear, but would you mind opening the window. I could really do with some fresh air in here. It is ever so stuffy.’

The nurse smirked. ‘Just as long as you don’t intend on escaping any time soon?’

‘Ha-ha! I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.’ Mrs Tenby then coughed, so took another sip of water.

The nurse giggled, then proceeded to open the window before looking at the cold toast on the bedside table.

‘Couldn’t manage your breakfast?’

‘I don’t have the appetite just yet to stomach anything. You can just leave the toast there, dear. I will eat it when I can.’

‘No, I will take this away and will make you a fresh round or something else when you are ready. How does that sound?’

‘Oh, that is very kind, dear.’

‘That is all right. Nothing worse than cold toast!’ The nurse smiled warmly.

‘Thank you.’ The nurse collected the plate, then started to walk away. ‘Nurse, sorry to be a pain…'

‘Yes?’

‘Would you mind closing the door to my room? I find it hard to rest with all that noise coming from the ward. Sorry for asking so much, I hope I am not occupying too much of your time, dear.’

‘Of course—not a problem.’ The nurse then closed the door behind her.

A few moments later, Bradley reappeared at the window, looked in to see if the coast was clear, and then pulled the window further open.

Mrs Tenby became noticeably discomforted. Bradley then leaned through and rested against the window frame.

‘Well, Bradley – talk about making an entrance!’

‘You know that I always like to do things in style. I was just passing by and thought I would pay a visit.’

‘Did you now…’ She frowned.

‘Yeah…so, how have things been here? The nurses seem like they are doing a good job. It looks like you’re finally getting your money’s worth from paying all that national insurance over all of those years.’

‘It wasn’t as if I planning to come here, Bradley,’ she said sternly.

‘And that second nurse looked fit as well. Well, I can imagine underneath all that PPE, anyway…’

Mrs Tenby then interrupted: ‘son, what on God’s green Earth are you doing here?’

‘Well, I wanted to come and see you. I wanted to make sure that you are okay.’

‘But don’t those two cells inside your brain comprehend how dangerous this is?’

‘What, climbing up the side of the hospital to come and see you? Any son would do the same…’

‘No, Bradley! I presume you weren’t allowed to just come here…’—she shook her head disapprovingly—‘how was it you managed to get out of prison?’

‘Yeah, okay, I knew she was going to bring that up. I was obviously more concerned about seeing her than the consequences of breaking out of prison. I was done with the place, anyway. Sent down for assault and armed robbery. That judge had it in for me as soon as I walked into the courtroom. As far as he was concerned, I looked guilty. Coming from a broken home, mixing with the wrong crowd, I am just another textbook example of a kid who had to do what he had to do to survive. It doesn’t matter what background you are from—if there is scarcity it always promotes bad behaviour. I know that my mum had to put up with a lot of my issues. She did her best to raise me. Even though I didn’t go to school, and instead took drugs and got repeatedly arrested. I guess we all have a limit. A breaking point. Being sent to prison was the final straw for her. I know that mum is ashamed of me. I let her down. Of course, I feel guilt. Especially because when I was sent to prison I wasn’t able to look after her. And now she is in the hospital recovering from a house fire.’

‘Bradley, how did you know that I was going to be in here?’

‘Because Debbie called me and told me what had happened. I couldn’t help it, mum, I had to get out of there so that I could come and see you. I…I feel like this was all my fault... I should have been there to protect you... I know how disappointed you are in me. You never came to see me.’

‘Bradley, do you realise the consequence of this? When they catch you, they are going to extend your sentence! Besides, it was an accidental fire. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.’

‘…But it wasn’t though, mum.’

There was a protracted silence between them.

‘What do you mean?’ She squinted her eyes sceptically.

He looked down in shame. ’That wasn’t an accidental fire.’

She leaned forward. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because, because I know it was caused.’

‘What?

He looked up at her once more, tears welling in his eyes. ‘It was caused by Robyn’s cousin Tommy. Him and his gang. They, they… I owed them some money from way back. I was meant to pay them back, I was going to do that one final job, but my plan failed when I got arrested and sent down. They must have broken into your house to steal what they think they were owed…They wanted to punish me…’

Mrs Tenby sat there looking shocked. Bradley started crying, wiped away tears and tried to compose himself.

Down below on the ground, a small crowd of spectators had gathered. They had seen the lone man sat precariously on the windowsill. Shocked by his disregard for personal safety, they started shouting for assistance and one of them called the police. Bradley heard all of the commotions and looked downwards. Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Nurse Fletcher walked in. Bradley hurriedly climbed out and hid once more.

‘Sorry, Mrs Tenby, but there is something I think you should see. Would you mind if I turned on the news?

‘Yes, of course,’ Mrs Tenby said in a flustered manner.

Nurse Fletcher then walked towards the TV, turned it on, switched to a news channel, and then stood aside, as they both watched the newsreader.

‘And in other news: An inmate from Pentonville Prison has escaped this afternoon and is considered dangerous. Twenty-nine-year-old Bradley Tenby was convicted with assault and armed robbery last month…'

Nurse Fletcher then turned to Mrs Tenby. ‘Isn’t that your son you were telling me about?’

‘Ye…ye…yes, it is.’ Mrs Tenby swallowed hard. She then looked over to the window where Bradley was looking in at her with his hands splayed across the glass, with tears trailing down his eyes.

'I am sorry,’ he mouthed.

Below, there was the blaring siren of a police car as it drove into the hospital grounds and pulled up by the small crowd.

Alarmed by this, Bradley then turned to face them and said, ‘No! I am not coming down just yet. Leave me here! There is still some time left. I was told that visiting hours are between ten and twelve. Please!’

Bradley then looked back at his distressed mother, they maintained eye-catch, and nothing else was said.