Lydia called just before 6:30. Dr Kemmelman had called her and, based on the young intern’s report, he had been cautiously optimistic. Lydia was cautiously joyous. She vowed to come in the following day even if it killed her. Morris told her he loved her. Tonight he loved everyone -Lydia, Dr Timpnell with his Lawn Boy haircut, Mr Denker, even the young girl who brought in the supper trays as Morris hung up.
Supper was hamburgers, mashed potatoes, a carrots-and-peas combination, and small dishes of ice cream for dessert. The candy striper who served it was Felice, a shy blonde girl of perhaps twenty. She had her own good news — her boyfriend had landed a job as a computer programmer with IBM and had formally asked her to marry him.
Mr Denker, who exuded a certain courtly charm that all the young ladies responded to, expressed great pleasure. ‘Really, how wonderful. You must sit down and tell us all about it. Tell us everything. Omit nothing.’
Felice blushed and smiled and said she couldn’t do that. ‘We’ve still got the rest of B wing to do and C wing after that. And look, here it is six-thirty!’
‘Then tomorrow night, for sure. We insist — don’t we, Mr Heisel?’
‘Yes indeed,’ Morris murmured, but his mind was a million miles away.
(you must sit down and tell us all about it)
Words spoken in that exact-same bantering tone. He had heard them before; of that there could be no doubt. But had Denker been the one to speak them? Had he?
(tell us everything)
The voice of an urbane man. A cultured man. But there was a threat in the voice. A steel hand in. a velvet glove. Yes.
Where?
(tell us everything. Omit nothing.)
(?Patin?)
Morris Heisel looked at his supper. Mr Denker had already fallen to with a will. The encounter with Felice had left him in the best of spirits — the way he had been after the young boy with the blond hair came to visit him.
‘A nice girl,’ Denker said, his words muffled by a mouthful of carrots and peas.
‘Oh yes—’
(you must sit down)
‘- Felice, you mean. She’s (and tell us all about it.)
‘very sweet.’
(tell us everything. Omit nothing.)
He looked down at his own supper, suddenly remembering how it got to be in the camps after a while. At first you would have killed for a scrap of meat, no matter how maggoty or green with decay. But after a while, that crazy hunger went away and your belly lay inside your middle like a small grey rock. You felt you would never be hungry again.
Until someone showed you food.
(’tell us everything, my friend. Omit nothing. You must sit down and tell us AAALLLLL about it.’)
The main course on Morris’s plastic hospital tray was hamburger. Why should it suddenly make him think of lamb? Not mutton, not chops — mutton was often stringy, chops often tough, and a person whose teeth had rotted out like old stumps would perhaps not be overly tempted by mutton or a chop. No, what he thought of was a savoury lamb stew, gravy-rich and full of vegetables. Soft, tasty vegetables. Why think of lamb stew? Why, unless The door banged open. It was Lydia, her face rosy with smiles. An aluminium crutch was propped in her armpit and she was walking like Marshall Dillon’s friend Chester. ‘Morris? she trilled. Trailing her and looking just as tremulously happy was Emma Rogan from next door.
Mr Denker, startled, dropped his fork. He cursed softly under his breath and picked it up off the floor with a wince.
‘It’s so WONDERFUL? Lydia was almost baying with excitement. ‘I called Emma and asked her if we could come tonight instead of tomorrow, I had the crutch already, and I said, “Em”, I said, “if I can’t bear this agony for Morris, what kind of wife am I to him?” Those are my very words, aren’t they, Emma?’
Emma Rogan, perhaps remembering that her collie pup had caused at least some of the problem, nodded eagerly.
‘So I called the hospital,’ Lydia said, shrugging her coat off and settling in for a good long visit, ‘and they said it was past visiting hours but in my case they would make an exception, except we couldn’t stay too long because we might bother Mr Denker. We aren’t bothering you, are we, Mr Denker?’