An Indecent Obsession

‘No,’ whispered Nurse Langtry numbly.

Sister Dawkin didn’t flinch; she had been dealing with situations akin to this for too many years to flinch, but she performed her duty with great kindness, understanding and directness. ‘My dear, Michael Wilson died over four months ago.’

Nurse Langtry’s face looked empty, featureless, lifeless.

‘I’m not a gossip-monger, and I’m not telling you all this just to watch you suffer. But I thought if you didn’t know, you ought to know. I was your age once, and I understand exactly what you’re going through. Hope can be the cruelest thing in the world, and there are times when the very best thing one can do for someone is to kill a hopeless hope. I decided if I told you now, you might want to do something different with your life before it’s too late, and you find yourself ingrained. Like me. And it’s better that it should come from me than from some Maitland shopkeeper one nice su

‘Benedict killed him,’ said Nurse Langtry tonelessly.

‘No. He killed Benedict, and then he killed himself. It was all over a fool dog they owned that got in and played merry hell with another farmer bloke’s chooks. The farmer bloke drove over to Michael’s place hopping mad, and went for Michael. Then Benedict went for the farmer bloke, and if Michael hadn’t managed to hold Benedict off, the farmer bloke might have died too. He went to the police instead, but by the time the police got out to Michael’s place, it was all over. They were both dead. Michael had given Benedict an overdose of barbiturates, and then he shot himself. He didn’t suffer at all. He knew too much about where to aim.’

Nurse Langtry literally heaved her whole body away from Sister Dawkin, flopping, sagging limply, an old rag doll.

Oh, Michael, my Michael! All the buried love and need and hunger leaped fully armed into consciousness. She ran with pain, she rocked with it, she smothered in it. Oh, Michael! Never, never, never to see him again, and she had missed him so unbearably. All these months close enough to call in on him any off-duty day, and she had not. He was dead and she hadn’t even known it, hadn’t even felt it in the bones which missed him so much, so terribly.

The thing with Benedict had gone to its inevitable end. There was, she saw now, no other possible end for it. While he was there Benedict was safe; that was what he had to believe, for he had willingly shouldered the burden of caring for Benedict, and every duty must have its reward, in the knowledge of a job well done. So when he could no longer be sure, he had put Benedict down, quietly and kindly. After which he had no choice save to put himself down as well. No prison could hold Michael, even ward X, even Morisset. He was a bird, but the cage had to be one of his own making.

Oh, Michael, my Michael! A man is no more than he can be. Cut down like the grass.

She turned on Sister Dawkin fiercely. ‘Why didn’t he come to me?’ she demanded. ‘Why didn’t he come to me?’

Was there a way to deliver the truth without hurting? Sister Dawkin doubted it, but she tried. ‘Maybe he just forgot you. They do forget us, you know,’ she said gently.

That was unbearable. ‘They have no right to forget us!’ Nurse Langtry cried.

‘But they do forget. It’s their nature, Honour. It isn’t that they don’t love us. They move on! And we move on. None of us can afford to live in the past.’ Her hand swept, encompassing Morisset mental hospital. ‘If we did, we’d end up in here.’

One by one Nurse Langtry picked up the pieces, old and cold and lonely. ‘Yes, I suppose we would,’ she said slowly. ‘Still, I’m already in here.’

Sister Dawkin rose to her feet, slid into her shoes, held out her hand and pulled Nurse Langtry up out of the chair. ‘That’s right, you are in here. But you’re on the caring side of the fence. You’ve got to stay on the caring side, never forget that, no matter what you decide to do.’ She sighed. ‘I have to go. Mum’s still waiting.’

Oh, Sally, you’re the one with real troubles! thought Nurse Langtry, walking with her friend through the foyer of the nurses’ home. It was no way to end a life, too little money and aged parents and no hope of help. And eventual aloneness. All duty had bought for Sally Dawkin was more duty. Well, decided Nurse Langtry, I for one am fed up with duty. It has ruled my whole life. And it killed Michael.

They walked to where Sister Dawkin had left the car she had borrowed to move her father to Morisset; before she climbed into it Nurse Langtry reached out and hugged her briefly, tightly.

‘Do take care of yourself, Sally, and don’t worry about your father. In here he’ll always be all right.’

‘I’ll take care, don’t worry. Today I’m down, but tomorrow, who knows? I might win the lottery. And Royal Newcastle’s not such a pipsqueak of a place. I might get to be matron instead of just one of her deputies.’ She clambered into the car. ‘If you ever decide to head north to Newcastle, give me a ring, and we’ll meet for a bite and a natter. It isn’t good to lose all contact with people, Honour. Besides, every time I come to see Dad I’m going to force my company on you.’

‘I’d love that, but I don’t think I’m going to be here very many days longer. There’s someone in Melbourne I intend to remind that I still exist before it’s too late,’ said Nurse Langtry.

Sister Dawkin beamed. ‘Good girl! You get on with your life the way you feel it ought to be lived.’ She let in the clutch, waved cheerfully, and kangaroo-hopped away.

Nurse Langtry stood watching for a moment, waving back, then turned to walk to the nurses’ home, head bent to let her eyes follow the alternating black blurs of her feet in the night.

Neil had said he would wait for her. It wasn’t very far to Melbourne if she flew. She could fly down on her next four days off. And if indeed he was still waiting, she need never come back to Morisset again. She was thirty-two years old, and what did she have to show for it? A few scraps of official paper, a few ribbons, a couple of medals. No husband, no babies, no life of her own. Just service to others, a memory, and a dead man. Nowhere near enough.

Her head lifted; she stared at the yellow squares of light all around her in this vast dumping ground for the hopeless and the destitute. When was she next due for four days off? She was on for three more days, had three days off, on for four days, then off for four days. About ten days away.

Oh, that worked out well! She wouldn’t have to go to Melbourne until after the big concert. It was going to be their best effort yet, if only poor old Marg could manage to remember the two words she had to say. But she had wanted so badly to be in it no one had the heart to say no. Everyone prayed a lot, that was all. What luck charge had found out A

Nurse Langtry halted as if a giant hand had suddenly chopped down to bar her way. What on earth am I thinking of? I can’t abandon them! Who else have they got, if people like me go rushing off blindly chasing a dream? For it is a dream! A silly, immature girl’s dream. This is what my life is all about. This is what I served my apprenticeship for. Michael knew. And Sally Dawkin is right. The truth is cruel, yet there’s no escaping the truth forever, and if it hurts, one must simply bear the hurt. They forget us. Eighteen months without so much as a word from him. Neil too has quite forgotten. When I was the center of his universe he loved me and he needed me. What does he need me for now? And why should he love me now? I sent him on his way back to a different sort of life, bigger, more exciting, oh, yes, more exciting by far, and dewed with women. Why on earth should he remember a part of his life that gave him so much pain? More importantly, why do I expect him to remember? Michael was right. Michael knew. A strong bird needs lots of room to fly.