The Broken Man

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Appealing to Phil, Adam began to panic.

Quickly now, Matron crossed to the bed. Leaning to examine her patient, she told them, ‘It’s all right. She’s trying to say something, but she’s not yet fully awake.’ She glanced up at Phil. ‘Another moment, and you must take Adam back so she can get her rest.’

As Matron moved away to check the machine readings, Peggy attempted to speak again. This time, Adam drew closer, trying to decipher the incoherent whispers.

With great tenderness, he wrapped his hand about her fingers. For a moment he was silent, painfully reliving what had gone before. Presently, with his other hand he reached out to stroke her thick, wayward hair. ‘I love you, Mum. I want you to come home, so please get better soon.’

Peggy heard his every word, and she so wanted to rest, but she had to know first. In a snatched breath, she asked him, ‘Is he … here?’

Relieved to hear her voice, Adam leaned closer, his voice small. ‘If you mean Father, he ran away like a coward, and he never came back.’ Anger consumed him. ‘He did this to you, didn’t he?’

‘Sssh!’ Her voice shivered with fear.

Exhausted, she momentarily closed her eyes. She was not afraid for herself, but for her only child. She needed to take care of him, this precious boy, who had seen bad things that no child should ever see.

‘Mum!’ Adam leaned closer. ‘Don’t be afraid, because if he comes back, I won’t let him in. Phil’s taking care of me, and we’ll be all right till you come home. We really will …’

When she made a slow, deliberate movement to touch his face, he realised she was anxious to say something else.

‘Don’t talk, Mum. It will be all right,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll take care of everything until you get home. If he comes back … I’ll tell them what he’s like …’

Deeply distressed, Peggy’s furtive whispers were for her son’s ears only. ‘No. Don’t say … that.’

‘But he hurt you, Mum. He did!’

‘Please … promise me.’ Exhausted, she fell back into her pillow.

‘All right, Mum.’ Adam stood up and, gently laying his face on hers, he reluctantly put her mind at rest. ‘I won’t tell,’ he whispered, ‘I promise …’ He found it hard to believe it was what she wanted, but he would keep his promise.

All he needed was for his mum to get better.

‘Love you … Son.’ Relief shadowed her face and now she was silent again.

‘Mum?’ Cradling her face, he was shocked at how cold she was. ‘Mum!’

There was no response.

‘Mum! Wake up … Mum!’

Matron hurried across the room. One glance at Peggy and she pushed the panic button. ‘Take the boy away now!’ she said to Phil.

Glancing at Peggy’s face, Phil was afraid. ‘Come on, son. We’d best do as Matron says.’ Deeply shaken, he led Adam away. As they hurried out the door, a number of medical staff were coming up the corridor at the run.

Keeping a strong hold on Adam, Phil quickened their steps. He did not want even to consider what might be going on in the recovery room.

Quickly now, he took Adam down the long corridor and into the waiting area where they had previously been.

Adam fought against him. ‘I have to go back … my mum needs me.’

‘They’re taking care of her, son.’ Phil kept a tight hold on Adam. ‘They’ll let us know how she is, soon enough.’ After seeing her so pale and empty, Phil secretly feared the worst.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d71785a2-791e-5bc1-bd4e-af67e0425877)

IN THE VISITOR’S room, Phil anxiously paced the floor. Occasionally, he paused to look through the window into the corridor, but there was no one in sight.

He turned his gaze to Adam, who was curled up on the couch, quietly sobbing.

With every minute that passed, Phil began to lose faith, though he kept his disturbing thoughts to himself.

Presently, he glanced across at the boy, who was quieter now, deep in thought. Phil’s heart went out to him. Again, he made his way over to him. ‘I know you want news of your mum,’ he started, ‘but we must try and be patient, however hard it might be.’

After what seemed an age, there was a tap on the door, and the surgeon entered, his face sombre.

‘What happened? Is she all right?’ Phil asked.

Simultaneously, Adam ran over, asking anxiously, ‘Is my mum all right?’

The surgeon quietly suggested to Phil, ‘It might be best if I have a quiet word with you first.’

Sensing the tense atmosphere, and made increasingly nervous by the knowing glances that passed between the two men, Adam backed away. ‘What’s happened? Why won’t you let me go to my mum?’

Moved to tears, Phil took hold of him. ‘I’m sorry, son, but you can’t go to your mother,’ he said gently. Though well aware that it was Adam’s right to see her, Phil realized it would not be wise. After all, he was just a child and, at the moment, dangerously vulnerable.

‘Why can’t I see her?’ All of Adam’s instincts told him the awful truth. In his heart and soul, he knew she had left him. ‘Get off me!’ His screams reverberated through the room. He fought Phil off and would have run from the room, but Phil caught him and held him.

‘Listen to me, son.’ His kind voice was calming. ‘D’you recall what I told you … about my darling wife and how the only thing I wanted in the whole wide world was for her to be all right?’

Tearfully, Adam nodded.

‘And do you recall how, for reasons we may never understand, the Good Lord took her all the same?’

Another reluctant nod.

‘Well, then, I’ve been thinking. Maybe your mum, like my dear wife, could never be made better on this earth. But up there, in God’s Heaven, she doesn’t feel pain any more; she’s comfortable and at peace, and though you will always miss her, she’ll be watching over you. She will never leave you.’

Deeply moved by Phil’s gentle words, the surgeon cautiously approached Adam. ‘I’m so very sorry. I know how hard it must be. I can promise you, we did everything humanly possible for your mother, but her injuries were many and her heart was not strong enough to carry her through.’

Adam looked up, his eyes marbled with grief. He began to sob, and soon it was an avalanche of grief. The devastating loss of his mother and the all-consuming hatred for the man who hurt her could no longer be contained.

In a trembling voice, he murmured, ‘One day, when I’m bigger, he’ll pay for what he did.’

‘Who will, Adam?’ Mr Hendon probed for the truth. ‘Do you want to tell us about this person … the one who must “pay for what he did”? Adam, can you tell me who you mean?’

Adam looked away. The surgeon’s words were a timely caution to him, for he knew he must never tell. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his mother had made him promise not to.

Just then the door opened and a nurse entered. After she had imparted her message to the surgeon, he politely excused himself. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you for a while, but please wait here. Someone will be along in a moment to have a word with you.’

They watched him leave.