George was visiting his father in the BRI every night. Raymond’s condition was still serious. There was always a danger of his having another stroke. Raymond had been moved into a geriatric ward and one thing had become rapidly clear to George over the past few days. He needed to get him out of there as soon as possible. He wasn’t sure that the treatment his father was receiving actually required him to stay in hospital. Raymond was barely getting any sleep as some of the patients who had dementia would constantly call out at night. He felt sure that being surrounded by such old and ill people was no good for Raymond’s mental health. Some of these unfortunate people were just shells of their former selves, with their heads arched back and their mouths contorted into a ghastly silent scream which no one heard. What was more, a couple of patients Raymond had struck up conversation and become hospital chums with had subsequently both died.
‘It’s like death’s waiting room,’ he’d told Ottey.
*
Dr Moss had told Christine that they wanted to move Raymond to a stroke rehabilitation and recovery unit outside of the hospital. George thought about this, did some research, and quickly came to the conclusion that it would be more of the same for his father. He therefore grasped the opportunity and formulated a different plan for his father which he wanted to propose to Moss before any action was taken.
‘I have some money saved,’ he told the geriatric care specialist. George had formed a great respect for this woman who had dedicated her professional life to the least glamorous end of the medical profession. To care for the sick elderly. It surely had to be a thankless task. But she was committed to it. She wanted the best for her patients. This had not only earned her George’s respect but also convinced him that the medical woman would hear him out. They both had the same aim in mind. To do the best for Raymond. ‘I don’t have any family other than my father and I have no dependents,’ George continued.
‘But there is your mother,’ the doctor pointed out.
‘I am resigning from the police in order to care for him,’ George told her, ignoring what she’d just said.
‘Really? Have you discussed this with him?’ asked Lizzie Moss, a little surprised. Why was everyone asking him this?
‘I have not,’ George replied.
‘Well, I suggest you talk to him before you do anything drastic,’ said Moss.
‘Why?’
‘Because it affects him, and it might not be what he wants.’
‘Why wouldn’t it be what he wants?’ asked George, a little puzzled.
‘From what I understand, he’s immensely proud of your career as a detective. I don’t think for a minute your resigning would be what he wants and to be honest, might not be the best thing for his recovery. Added to the fact that he might not actually want you involved in his care,’ Moss continued.
‘Has he said as much to you?’ asked Cross, alarmed.
‘No, it’s not something we’ve discussed,’ Moss admitted.
‘Then how can you arrive at such a conclusion?’ Cross pressed.
‘It’s not a conclusion, merely a suggestion.’
‘Based on what?’ asked Cross, not letting go, like a terrier with a bone.
‘Based on the fact that some people are better equipped to care for the ill than others,’ said the doctor.
‘Are you suggesting I’m not capable of caring for my father?’ asked Cross whose admiration of this young doctor was now being sorely tested.
‘I just think you should discuss it with him, that’s all. And your mother, for that matter, as she is also going to be involved in his care.’
George thought for a moment and realised that what the doctor was saying was coming from the same place everything she did and said at the hospital came from – a desire to do what was in the best interest of her patients.
‘I will, of course, heed your advice and speak to my father as soon as the opportunity presents itself. In the meantime, if you are agreeable, I would like to discharge my father tomorrow into my care. I think this would be preferable for him, while also freeing up a bed at the unit for someone else in need,’ George continued. ‘I will pay for him to have a daily visit from a geriatric specialist nurse – perhaps you could advise me on that. Also carers to get him up in the morning and put him to bed in the evening. I will also engage a private physiotherapist, the frequency of their visits, again, to be determined by you. Please add to this any other specialist care you think he requires. My mother, who you mentioned, will be living with him. So he will not be alone. I will also visit him on a daily basis.’
‘What about speech therapy?’ asked the consultant.
‘I believe the NHS can provide one. I’m assuming that on top of the care I pay for, the NHS will be providing some alongside it?’ replied George.
‘We will, but I think Raymond will benefit from more than that.’
‘As I said, I will be guided by you in terms of any additional help and care my father needs. I should also mention my mother was a teacher and has brought up the idea of helping with his speech. Maybe she could follow the therapist’s lead? It’s something I feel I can also contribute to and, what is more, would enjoy doing.’
‘Raymond is a lucky man,’ replied the doctor.
‘I don’t see how having a stroke while under anaesthetic for an operation to remove a cancerous tumour on his lung can be described as lucky,’ replied George.
‘I meant having you as a son, DS Cross.’
‘I see. I think that’s probably the first time my being his son has been described as a lucky happenstance,’ George observed.
‘Have you put all the necessary arrangements in place? I can’t discharge him without that,’ Moss told him.
This flummoxed Cross, who felt immediately stupid for failing to see this coming. ‘I can see that tomorrow was perhaps overly optimistic,’ he said, eventually.
‘Perhaps in two or three days?’ Moss suggested. ‘I can certainly advise on a nursing agency who will provide suitable help, as well as a good physiotherapist.’
‘In a few days, then,’ said George.
‘I should like to see Raymond in a month, just to monitor how things are progressing.’
‘Very well.’
‘I’ll also arrange for a district nurse to come in twice weekly.’
‘To check up on us,’ said George.
‘Not exactly,’ she laughed.
‘I think that’s an excellent idea. I wouldn’t want us to get anything wrong,’ George said genuinely. ‘It’ll be reassuring to know that someone is going to come and keep an eye on us.’
But as he left the room without thanking her or saying goodbye, Lizzie Moss was left wondering whether George was being sarcastic.
*
Raymond was thrilled at the prospect of getting out of hospital while at the same time a little nervous.
‘You… sure?’ was all he could manage, uncertainly, just as a man wailed horribly from the other end of the ward. George simply raised his eyebrows as if no verbal answer was required.
‘You’ll have all the support you need.’
‘This is very generous of you, George,’ commented his mother.
‘Not at all. It’s what I should do in the circumstances. Will you be able to move into the flat in readiness for his coming home, whenever that is?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, that should be fine.’
‘I’ll ask Marina if she can come along and settle you in,’ he added.
‘Thank you. She’s been in to visit a couple of times. Do you know she speaks in Spanish to him?’
‘I did. She’s been teaching him for a couple of years now.’
Marina was Raymond’s delightfully bossy Spanish cleaner. George had found her for him when working the case of a murdered ex-mayor of Bristol. She ‘did’ for the woman three times a week at her house on Sion Hill. Marina had resigned, as she no longer wanted to work for the husband, who she didn’t like. She’d been devoted to the victim, however. George had hired her after Raymond’s flat had been cleared out, to keep it firmly in order. After a sticky start, she had now become a permanent fixture in their small, extended family.
Raymond looked up and gave George the lopsided smile that his son had now become familiar with. George nodded and left.