Chapter 23

Sarge sat bolt upright in the chair in the hospital ward in Cairns when he read that last bit of James Duncan’s memoir. He made no sound but Sarah gasped. She had been staring at him for a while admiring his fortitude, his passion and understanding fully the love he had for her. She knew that normally he would have been all too consumed with “office” work, if he was aware that she was safe, healthy and life was good. She knew that the latter was true but as for being safe and healthy, she was at the lowest ebb she could remember. She made a silent vow to herself on behalf of Katie, Eloise but especially Sarge, that she would fight back and get everything back to normal.

Sarge looked across at her and saw that she was awake and whispered, “Sorry” as if he had had woken her. She beckoned him to come closer and he rose and went over to her and lent over to try to hear her better. Suddenly she placed her hands around his neck and drew his face into a forceful kiss. Startled he asked, “What was that for?”

“If you have to ask, then we have a problem,” she replied and smiled. Her eyes drifted across to the recumbent Eloise seemingly at peace with the world. Eloise’s tiny cherubic features were become more distinctive day by day. She was well fed and cared for by Sarge under the envious supervision of the nursing staff. Sarah couldn’t wait to help him with that role, but was ever so grateful that he had stepped in to be the full-time parent while she recovered.

“Good book?” she asked, unaware of what he had been reading.

“Fascinating. I’m sorry I was so absorbed in it that I paid you little attention. Is there anything I can get for you? Some water? Do you need to go to the toilet?” Sarge looked at her trying to glean an answer to his question.

“Oh, Bernard Wilfred Downs, you do say the most romantic things! Actually, I’m fine. I think I’m just coming to the conclusion how much I haven’t appreciated you in the past. When I get better, I will make it up to you. I don’t know how. Do you have any ideas?” Sarah asked with a big slow wink.

“As long as it doesn’t involve flying, boating, heights, skiing or horse-riding, I will be happy with whatever you choose,” he said seriously.

“So, a quick trip to Switzerland, a sail on Lake Como and then a horse trek up to a ski chalet is off the agenda?” she laughed. “You will have to just take a raincheck for now on a night of unbridled passion.”

“I’m not sure I could last a whole night,” he answered with a smile.

“Okay, I’ll slot you in for a couple of minutes in a month’s time. Probably early in the evening before you fall asleep, you poor old man.” Sarah said as she rolled her eyes.

They held hands and Sarge saw the look of determination in her eyes for the first time. She was not going to just blindly accept what was happening to her and let her body slowly recover. She was going to will herself to get better and given how strong and stubborn her willpower was, she would do it in double quick time.

“Get back to your book before Eloise wakes up. After she does and you’ve looked after her, get some sleep yourself. The bags under your eyes are below your cheeks at the moment,” Sarah said waving him away and closing her own eyes. It seemed to her that everything was such an effort at the moment and was making her quickly tired. Sarge kissed her on the forehead and then sat down in the armchair, pulled the thin blanket over himself and reread the last few pages of where he was up to in the book.

Things were slowly sinking in. He had heard his Uncle Ray speak of distant cousins in New Zealand when he had joined Sarge, Sarah and Katie on a New Zealand holiday after the death of his wife. These cousins lived in Dunedin. He knew that his grandfather on his father’s side had married a Kiwi but nothing more about her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the surname Duncan was also there. He couldn’t quite place it and he decided to text his uncle and see if the name registered with him. His mind was a big foggy with lack of sleep but his uncle would know.

What he was sure of though, and it was something that his grandfather couldn’t have possibly known, was that the mysterious box that had made the clicking sound was in fact a Geiger counter and that the piece of rock handed over was radioactive. The radio probably had radioactive dust in it which would have set off a reading on the counter as well. So, he assumed that the mountain, the volcano was made up of radioactive material. How strong it was, he had no idea. But could a volcano be radioactive? Wasn’t it just made up of cooled down lava? He figured he’d have to do a bit more reading. Thank heaven for the internet. He had found something positive about it at last. He pulled out his pad and began typing in the search box. Stunned by what he read, he put the pad down. He had thought that magma when it cooled just formed into basic rocks such as basalt, but depending on the pressure and the depths from which the magma had come from, it could also produce a variety of elements and minerals including diamonds and radioactive substances such as polonium, radium and uranium of different radioactive strengths. Did this factor into why his grandfather had been sent back to ***** to see what the Japanese were up to?

That thought slipped out of his mind as his phone beeped. His uncle had got back to him, chastising him for not remembering that his grandmother’s maiden name was Duncan. Ray also asked how Sarah was going. Rather than put it in words Sarge used his phone to take pictures of two of the three most precious women in his life and even managed to put a heart emoji next to each photo before sending them off to his uncle. He awoke some four hours later. The phone had fallen on to the floor and the nurse had just brought in some coffee for him at the change of her shift. He apologised and said that he had better check on Eloise. She smiled and said that she had taken great delight in feeding and changing his daughter and that Eloise was back asleep. She reminded him that he needed to manage his own health if he didn’t want to end up in a hospital bed too. She looked at the book and the pad on the small table and shook her head in mild reproof. She then told him that his job outside the hospital was less important than the job he was doing inside the hospital. He nodded acknowledging the friendly reminder and she left. As soon as she was gone however, he grabbed the book, but paused before he began reading again.

Sarge began to realise how easy it was to fritter time, and thus, life away. It was something he always believed he had plenty of. He thought of his own parents who probably believed the same and were tragically killed when he was only four. He considered all the people who went away to war in their youth, many seldom to return. His grandfather was lucky in a way. His grandmother on his father’s side, he knew little about. She had died young leaving his grandfather with too much time on his hands really. To much time to think and perhaps regret what had happened to him, what had been thrust on him and perhaps the terrible choices he had to make. Sarge thought back to the time when he was only twenty-three. There was no way he could have done what his grandfather did, been that mature because there was no other option. Somehow, he was still having trouble envisaging the lanky old man he knew as a child with the person who was in this book. They were two separate characters but really one and the same.

Sarge still believed he was as young and fit as he was when he was in his early twenties. The only thing he thought had changed was that he knew a lot more. He put the book down and went to the ensuite toilet to rinse his face and looked in the mirror. For the first time he really looked. He hardly recognised the face. It was drawn, his stubble was greyish. His thinning hair was becoming more salt than pepper. He at last began to understand that people do change over time. The people around him, he saw all the time and so he never was really aware of the physical changes that they were, and on reflection he was, going through. A very visual thinker, what he needed was a picture of his grandfather as a young man and then somehow the story would seem more real. Of course, there were none he had and probably very few in existence. Suddenly he smiled. There were some. He even knew the exact date that they were taken and where. His grandfather had stood on the steps of a building on the corner of Edward and Queen St in Brisbane on the day he flew to New Zealand. Photographers from the newspapers had surrounded him. Sarge grabbed his pad and sent an email to one of the Brisbane papers requesting details and copies of photos from their archives. Smugly satisfied with his cleverness, he picked up the book once again and began reading.