"The next few hours were spent washing, ironing, cleaning, surfing and other small activities which were natural diversions to take the evening to sleep time. Another meeting tomorrow and the thought of it filled him with dread- it had gotten to the point that all interaction with groups of new people was too much to bear. Three days ago he had contemplated facing his manager and explaining how he felt but as usual he swept the problem under the carpet and hoped that others had not noticed the nervousness. Despite this reluctance to face up to the issue he knew that time was limited in his current role and that a period of long term sickness would be forced on him which scared him more than anything else. Getting through the days at work and the nights at home were just so difficult but at least during the day he was away from the silence."

The next morning Marc woke up to the memory of what had happened. The screams and loud sobbing summoned two nurses and a doctor to his bed and they tried every tactic they knew to calm him down even to the point of physically pinning him to the bed. He had been put on suicide watch the previous day and was monitored at regular intervals during the night. “Marc, please calm down, please…” The pleading of the nurses had little impact and it was only when Maureen came rushing in that he calmed a little- the slap she gave him had more than a little to do with that. 

“I want to see Meg!”

“Ok darling- have some breakfast first and then I will wheel you up to her.”

“No, I want to be with her… I haven’t got anyone else.” At which point the tears started again.

The doctor gently nodded to Maureen. “OK Marc. We will take you up to see Meg but I would like to have you cleaned up first. She’s in a sterile environment and we need to keep everything clean.” Marc gave in and took his wash from the nurses.

The pediatric ward was called ‘Jumbo’ and had pictures of cartoon characters, pop stars and musicians plastered all over the walls. It was one of the happiest looking environments in the hospital albeit crowded with anxious parents desperate for their children to overcome whatever problems they had. Maureen, accompanied by a nurse, wheeled Marc into the ward and up to Meg’s bed. A nurse was stationed next to her and was checking her blood pressure when they arrived. Tubes sprang out of her nose, mouth, wrist and small monitor pads were stuck to other parts of her body. A small bump on her forehead and a cut below her eye were the only physical signs of damage and she looked peaceful as she slept. Her long blonde hair was swept back and to Marc she was the prettiest thing in the world. No flower, view or painting could match the beauty of her face.

He picked up her hand and cradled it in his palm, all of her fingers still shorter than one of his. No one dared to interrupt the moment and Maureen found it hard to control the tears welling up in her eyes. To see Marc so close to her grand daughter was positive and more than she could have wished for today. The nurse passed Maureen a chair and she waited while Marc sat and comforted Meg. Even the nurse seemed touched by the scene played out in front of her and despite the countless times she had seen such sadness it was impossible to become completely hardened to the realities of life.

The minutes passed by slowly and Marc did not move, it was as if removing his hand from hers would cause her harm. All he wanted in the world was for her to wake up and give him one of her glorious smiles.

The drizzle tapped on the windscreen as the home bound traffic backed up. The cigarette struggled to keep alight through the open window and drops of rain dripped from the top of the door onto Marc’s trousers- a real bad design fault with the Honda in his opinion. He switched the back windscreen wipers and cleared his mirror only to see a light blue Renault Clio in the mirror driven by the ‘cigarette’ lady. For a moment he thought she was following him but dashed the stupid thought straight away- despite the fact that she had probably not seen him he couldn’t help but act differently knowing that she was near. He straightened up, tried to look relaxed and ended up looking daft.

Their journeys continued and she turned off two roads before Marcs. ‘So, she lives near… probably with her husband.’ His ideas about her took all sorts of different roads and usually ended up in a depressing cul-de-sac.

As usual the house was silent but Marc had decided that he would treat himself to a take-away tonight by way of actually leaving the house to go and collect it. Trips out at night were rare but he sub-consciously was picking himself out of the hole inhabited for the past few months.

Shower taken, best clothes adorned, he was strolling down the dark alley to the parade of shops. The drizzle had not stopped but it was a feeling he had always enjoyed since childhood- rain was one of the few excuses not to feel bad about staying in when he was younger. His mother had been very strict about going out with friends and it led to bullying at school with the classic joke from classmates calling him the Olympic flame i.e. only goes out once every four years. It sounded daft to Marc now but at the time it was heartbreaking and to this day he still worried too much about what others thought of him. He could not work out if it was arrogance or paranoia that led him to feel that strangers were watching his every move but it happened every time in town or at the supermarket. As he waked along staring down at the puddled lane he heard the squelch of his feet echo in the night air.

There was a big queue in the Chinese take-away but he decided to be brave and wait. It was mostly couples in the line and of course he stood out as the loner (in his mind) but he continued to wait. After about 5 minutes his turn came to order- it was a brief conversation with a fierce looking Chinese lady who had a voice almost as annoying as Phil Collins’. Crispy Dusk and pancakes ordered, Marc sat and waited for the order to be prepared. As he sat staring in front of him a chill ran through his spine as his puerperal vision took in the slight frame of the lady from work third in the queue. She was reading a menu as she waited and was the only other person in the restaurant who was not accompanied by a partner. It was Marc’s turn to stare. Everyone in the restaurant disappeared, all his insecurities vanished and he just stared at her.

Eventually she looked up from her menu and caught Marc’s eye. Unbelievably he did not stop staring as she looked at him. They both just looked at each other for the longest of uncomfortable times. Strangely it did not feel uncomfortable to either of them and she had to be tapped on the shoulder by the man behind as she reached the front of the queue. She ordered crispy duck in the voice he had expected to hear- not common, not posh but what he had expected.

She took the seat next to Marc and turned towards him. With a confident grace she simply said “Hello.”

“Hi.” Marc did not know what else to say.

“So, we work together.” She smiled a mischievous grin. 

“Yes. I believe we do.” Marc was aware that he was not coming across as Mr Smooth. He looked at the floor but recovered. “So, which department do you work in?”

“Connections. It’s quite boring actually.”

“I’m in Marketing- boring as well.”

“Number 64.” Marc’s number was called and he walked to the counter, feeling uncomfortable at leaving her sat there. Despite this he still walked to the door and left the take-away without looking back. It must have appeared rude but he could not bring himself to re-start the conversation. He stood outside holding his bag of food and started to walk home.

He stopped after a few steps and sat down on the nearest bench. After a few minutes she exited the shop and immediately took him in. Without hesitation she walked over and sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” Concern was etched on her face.

“How do you mean?”

“You have a sadness about you. I see it in the office, when you are outside smoking and even in there. You always look uncomfortable.” 

He paused. “I guess I am always uncomfortable. It’s not been a good year and it must show.”

“It does.” He looked at her. To him she seemed so beautiful. He could not say why but there was just something about her that made him feel comfortable but something that also made him want something from her he could not return.

“Listen, I know we don’t know each other but would you like to join me for supper. I don’t feel like eating alone tonight.” Her confidence disappeared.

“I would like that very much.” A smile crept over his face as the realisation hit him.  

“Mr Barchol. I have the results of the tests on Meg. I’m afraid it’s not good news.” The Doctor waited for a spark of emotion from Marc.

“Um, she has a blood clot in her brain and it is very large. It is inoperable.” His words hung in the air like an evil spell. 

Silence reigned as Maureen placed her hand on Marc’s shoulder. She regained her composure first.

“What… exactly are you saying Doctor?”

“I’m afraid she has two days at most- at some stage she will lose the ability to breathe on her own and will pass away. I’m so sorry.” Marc did not move- everything he had left has just been taken away in a sentence. The scream could have woke the dead and all control was lost as he started to shake violently before finally slumping into his chair.

Her hand pumped life into Marc’s as he held it gently and stared into her sleeping eyes. He had been sedated for the past two hours and had just regained the ability to focus on what he needed to do. What little time she had left would be spent with Daddy.

As the afternoon rain splashed against the windows she stirred slightly. Marc jumped and leaned over to her. She half opened her eyes and moved her head towards Marc, a small smile creeping over her mouth. As her eyes lit up tiny tears slid down her cheeks but as quickly as they opened they were closed again and the machine next to her bed let out a prolonged beep.

“Nice flat you have.” He stood in her lounge and handed her his coat.

“It’s OK- I like it." She took his food and went to the kitchen to prepare the food. “Can I help?” Marc felt useless jusy standing there.

“You can get some glasses out of the cupboard over there and I will sort some wine.”

“Wow. Wine as well- and I was expecting to sit at home with a plate in my lap watching Eastenders.” She smiled and Marc surprised himself at how relaxed he felt in the company of a relative stranger.

She brought the food over to the table, laid down the plates and they started to eat. “So… what’s your name?” She asked laughing.

“It’s Marc. Yours?”

“Stephanie, but please call me Steph.”

“OK Steph. Thanks for this. It’s nice to talk to someone.” He felt embarrassed again.

“I know what you mean. Eating alone is almost as bad as drinking alone.” She chuckled to herself again.

They continued to pick at their food but it was obvious that they really just wanted to talk. Neither was likely to push the conversation but there was a definite atmosphere developing between them and it was as palpable as the food in front of them.