Taking Care: A Novel

By Alastair Sharp

When the comfortable routine life of a retired country accountant and his wife abruptly shifts, he finds himself in a new rôle. On an otherwise ordinary day, she asks him to take care of everyone and without giving it much thought he promises that he will.
When he returns from shopping, however, she has had a stroke and has gone into a coma.
Her command stays with him and even while he sits at her bedside in the hospital, he recalls what she has said.
And so he sets out to fulfill her command.
Whoever looks like they might need taking care of, he offers. Not all his offers are appreciated or taken up and some bear unexpected consequences.
He finds himself riding a wave of activity, way outside his normal humdrum existence. His house fills with those who need his help and the community around him begins to discover and appreciate the benefactor in their midst.
While his wife remains on life support, she continues to inspire him and perhaps, somehow even instruct him. In moments where decisions have to be made, she seems to be there, in a subtle form urging him along.
Little by little, he finds himself in the midst of a group of those who do need taking care of and he rises and rises to the challenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532099397

Alastair Sharp

Alastair Sharp is an Australian living in Bordeaux France and so his writing forms a bridge between those two very different worlds. A lifelong career in writing has drawn him inexorably towards the human pursuit of meaning in life. Although his novels are not explicitly spiritual in nature, his writing constantly alludes to the innate desire we all have, no matter how latent it might be, to know more about who we are and why we find ourselves where we are and doing what we do.

Book preview

Day 1

It all started the day May had her stroke.

It had been a quiet Monday and I was planning to ride my bike to the supermarket to get a few things for lunch. I had my helmet on and was just about to go, when she called me. She was in the lounge and had settled back into the big yellow leather chair, her book in her lap. She’d pulled the lever that extends the footrest and lay back with closed eyes.

Arn, she said, her voice slow and quiet, Promise me something.

Sure, sweetheart, I said.

I want you to take care of everyone.

I smiled. She was prone to saying uplifting things like that. It’s one of the things I have always loved about her, right from the word go.

No worries, I said.

No, she said, her eyes still closed. You have to promise me that you will look after everyone. Take care of everyone.

There was something in her voice that made me stop and look at her.

I will look after you, I said.

Not just me. She still had her eyes closed. Everyone.

I went over to her, took her hand and stroked it. I promise.

Everyone? Then she opened her eyes and looked me right in the eye.

Everyone, I said and went on patting her hand.

That’s good, she said, and she seemed to breathe out really long. I will hold you to that promise. Take care of everyone.

OK, I said. I’ll be back soon.

She smiled, then she closed her eyes again.

I thought she looked very peaceful as I let myself out.

I took Albert with me. He runs alongside the bike pretty well, as long as I don’t go too fast. Of course, if he wants to stop for a piss, I have to be ready.

At the supermarket, I left him tied to the bike. I bought a punnet of little button mushrooms, some nicely ripe tomatoes and half a dozen eggs. Normally I buy my eggs from Ron but I had run out.

I had in mind to make us a simple omelette. She likes my cooking.

I stood in the line at the checkout behind a dishevelled sort of woman, someone I didn’t recognise, who fumbled in her purse to pay for a sixpack of beer. She didn’t seem to be buying anything else.

Oh shivers, she muttered, Don’t bloody have enough.

Why don’t you put a couple back? said the cashier. He was a skinny little kid with tattoos all round his neck, like a permanent cravat.

Then I heard May’s voice in my head. Promise me you will look after everyone.

I leaned in.

I’ve got it, Love. It’s on me. Enjoy.

They both stared at me.

You’re shouting? the kid said.

Yeah, I said.

The woman scowled. What’s the catch?

I had to smile. She was getting help but she was suspicious. Maybe she’d spent her whole life like that, being suspicious.

I opened my hand like there was nothing in it and I said: Must be feeling generous.

Thanks, she said, and grabbed the sixpack and scuttled off, like she thought I might change my mind.

The kid said: Your birthday or something?

I smiled and paid. It wasn’t much.

Albert was very pleased to see me. He’s a patient little feller, up to a point.

As I rode back, with the omelette ingredients in the box on the back, I was sure that May would have a mixed reaction when I told her what I did. I mean I did look after someone, but I could imagine her saying, You didn’t really look after her, did you. She was just buying beer. Was that helpful? I suppose if the woman had been buying cat food, I would have been more worthy of praise.

Anyway I was looking forward to telling her the story.

When we got back, May was still in the chair with her feet up on the footrest.

Omelette for lunch, I said, but she didn’t move. Albert came in through the dog door and went over and licked her hand but she still didn’t move.

I was a bit surprised by that, so I went over and I took her hand. It was quite cold and her breathing was very shallow. I didn’t think too much about it. Albert came and parked himself beside her chair and I let her be. I was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t tell her the story about the woman with the sixpack.

I made the lunch and brought hers on a tray, thinking she’d prefer it in the chair. That’s when I realised she wasn’t with me.

She wouldn’t wake up. I tried stroking her face and talking loudly but there was no reaction. She was breathing but so little it would hardly have stirred a feather.

I went next door and asked our neighbor, Myra, who’s a nurse, to come over. Actually she isn’t a nurse any more. Last year, she was let go. The local hospital had a budget problem, so they wanted only the younger nurses because they are cheaper.

Myra came in and did her nurse routine, taking the pulse and all that sort of thing. Then she shook her head. Dunno, Arn. Doesn’t look right to me. Better get her seen to. I’ll call the ambos for you.

That was a bit of a shock.

Myra went home and I ate my omelette while I waited. I sat there on the couch with the plate in my lap, kind of hoping that maybe May’d just suddenly come good.

When she didn’t, I got up and ate May’s omelette too. No point in wasting it. Eggs aren’t good for dogs so Albert wasn’t getting any. He seemed to think it was his job to stay with May anyway.

The ambos were pretty quick. Two young blokes, all very business-like. Brusque you might say. They had the same tight haircuts and tattoos on their forearms, like it was part of their uniform.

They took her vitals, tried talking to her and when she wouldn’t respond, they decided she needed to go in.

I asked if I could come too and they said no, it’d be better if I drove myself. Then I’d have the car for coming home.

She’ll be alright, won’t she?

It’s funny, up til then I wasn’t really worried, because she looked so peaceful. She was breathing.

Now that they were carting her off on one of those fancy ambo trolley things, well, it felt a bit more serious.

Don’t worry, old fella, one of them said. She’ll come round. The docs’ll give her something to get her going and she’ll be right back before you know it.

What do I need to bring? I said.

Better expect she’ll be in at least for one night. Pack her a nightie and a toothbrush. Overnight stuff.

Then they had her out and into the back. No sirens or flashing lights, which was good. I didn’t want the whole neighborhood to be hearing about it. Myra’s going to tell them anyway but I don’t like a fuss.

I got an overnight bag from the back bedroom and took a fresh nightie. It was one with no holes and it wasn’t too see-through. May’s a bit shy like that. I took my sudoku book and sharpened a pencil. I could be there a while.

I told Myra what had happened and she said she’d seen the ambos.

Probably nothing serious was her opinion. Good to get a thorough check-up, though.

I asked her if she’d feed Albert if I had to stay late. He likes his dinner at six o’clock. In dog years he’s way older than me, so he’s a bit set in his ways. Myra said she would, although it was bridge night down at the women’s club so she wanted to go early.

In the waiting room, I did three sudokus, got them all out without looking at the solutions.

Then one of the docs came to talk to me. Mr Adams, he said. He was an Indian man with a very straight back and a little moustache. I am sorry to tell you that your wife has had a stroke.

That was a bit of a shock.

How bad is it? I asked.

We are not sure but we will be doing many tests to find out. You are not to worry. He spoke very good English.

She’s going to be okay though, isn’t she?

It is early days. We will be soon knowing.

Shall I wait here?

Not at all. He patted me on the shoulder. You will go home and rest. You can visit tomorrow.

It was a bit strange driving home all by myself to an empty house.

Albert was at the front door and I bet he was feeling a bit strange, too. Dogs are sensitive to that kind of thing.

Myra had fed him but I gave him an extra treat to cheer him up. He jumped up and sat next to me on the couch, while we watched the news. Then I thought about what May had said, just before I went off to the supermarket. Promise me you will look after everyone. I even had the thought, a very weird thought for me, that maybe she knew she was about to go off and she wanted to tell me before she went. Maybe she was giving me instructions for while she was out of action.

I let Albert sleep on the bed that night. Normally he sleeps in his own bed in the laundry. Sometime in the night he snuggled up a bit and I put my arm round him.

A couple of old bodies feeling lonely.

Day 2

In the morning, I kept feeling that May would walk in at any moment. It was like I could feel her in the house even when I knew she wasn’t there. I had to remind myself to make only half a pot of tea. I nearly did two pieces of toast before I remembered.

I thought about calling Martin. I felt he should know that his Mum wasn’t well, but then I thought it might be better to wait til the docs could tell me more about her condition. She told me to look after everyone and of course that would include Martin. He doesn’t really need much looking after these days. He’s just been made a full professor at the Uni in Hobart and he isn’t even forty yet. He’s just bought himself a lovely house in Sandy Bay. He’s specialised in macro economics and May reckons that was all my doing. Of course just being a humble country accountant is not the same as a professor of economics at a university. We do have good conversations about monetary matters all the same.

Anyway I decided not to call him. I thought maybe he’d want to hop on a plane and come to help and I didn’t want him to do that. I can look after myself quite well. He’s got his young family to take care of. I am very proud of my two grandkids. Really bright the pair of them four year old twins. Bree is outgoing and funny and she’s started to learn to play the piano. It was her idea. Tory is a physical kid. The last time we saw them, when they came for Christmas, he was hitting little golf balls across the lawn with a plastic golf club straight into a cup. Never missed. He’s got amazing eye to hand coordination. Martin’s wife comes from Mauritius. She has quite dark skin so my grandkids look like they have really good tans all the time. Rina is a pharmacist. She and Martin met when they were both studying in Cambridge. They both have PhDs, so the kids will be super smart in school work. Rina works in a government laboratory, doing something with opium, but I don’t really understand what she does. She did try to explain it to me but it was too technical.

I wondered if I should tell some of May’s friends but then again, what was the point. It could be nothing or it could be serious. Better to wait. Anyway, even if I didn’t say anything, Myra probably already did. The whole neighborhood probably knew already.

The phone rang at nine o’clock. It was Doctor Rajmani.

Mr Adams. We are cautiously hopeful, he said.

Did she wake up? I asked.

She is not waking.

She’s in a coma then? Is that what it is?

It is too early in the proceedings for us to make a full determination.

Can I see her?

Yes of course. This is the very reason I am just now calling you.

I took Albert for his morning walk. He has his regular place for his business and he performed perfectly. He’s a very good boy our Albert.

I told him I wouldn’t be long and he hopped up on the back of the couch so he could watch me back out of the drive.

They have a little shop in the foyer of the hospital and I bought some white roses and another sudoku book to make sure I had things to do.

They had May all wired up to things that hummed and beeped, but she looked peaceful.

Got you some roses, I said as I walked in, as if I expected her to open her eyes and say Good morning

One of the nurses took the roses and came back with a vase.

Another nurse was brushing her hair.

When the nurses had finished, they left me sitting next to her.

Well, I said leaning in. Here we are.

I wondered if she could hear me. I read somewhere that the last thing that goes is the sense of hearing so maybe she could.

They’re looking after you pretty well. Then I smiled to myself. She had told me to look after everyone. I wasn’t really looking after her, was I? Then I shook my head. Thoughts.

I sat there for quite a while and watched her chest slowly going up and down, barely moving really.

The doc says you’ve had a stroke, I said at last.

Then I remembered that her Mum had one in her old age. Much older than May is now but still it struck me. Maybe it’s genetic. It’s a bit sad to think about that because her Mum was never quite the same afterwards. She was all lop-sided and talked out of the corner of her mouth.

Do you remember what you said to me yesterday? I said. I had to look after everyone?

I paused, like I was expecting her to answer.

Well I did what you said. I went on. There was this lady in front of me at the check-out and she didn’t have enough money, so I helped her out.

I decided I didn’t need to mention what the lady was buying.

Then I ran out of things to say. I sat there and went on watching her chest barely moving and listening to all the machines murmuring and ticking.

Albert misses you, I said after a while. Myra fed him.

So then I just sat there. I did a sudoku, because I couldn’t think what else to say.

By the end of the morning, my brain was a bit fed up with missing numbers and I mucked up a couple of them. Doctors had come and gone, nurses had done their duty, but nothing seemed to have changed.

Doctor Rajmani recommended that I spend the afternoon doing something to cheer myself up.

After all, he said, What can you do? This is the time for your wife to be the patient and for you to be a patient person. He had a very feminine sort of giggle, which I rather thought undercut his professional manner, but I smiled at his attempt to cheer me up.

Thank you, doctor, I said. I am sure she is being very well taken care of.

Oh yes. Rest assured, he said.

So Albert and I went for a long walk. I thought about going down to the Men’s Shed to hang out with some of the boys, but I didn’t want to have to talk about May just yet.

Remembering my last spousal instructions, I kept my eye out. I walked past a young woman with a kid in a stroller and just as we passed, the baby dropped her stuffed dog out of the pram. Kind of a poodle. I stopped and picked it up. The young woman tried to get her kid to say thank you as I put it back, but the kid wasn’t into it at all. We smiled at each other.

Then there was a guy looking for the post office and I walked him there. Just a couple of blocks. He was from out of town and had some kind of foreign accent. He thanked me with a little bow, which was kind of nice.

In the park behind the post office I saw another man, someone I didn’t recognise, sitting by himself. I thought he might like some company so I went over and sat next to him. As it turned out, he was waiting for someone else, another man. I think they might have been rather fond of each other because he gave the man a little kiss. I realised I was not really needed.

I felt I had done my best, so Albert and I headed home. At the corner of our street where the bus stops I noticed a couple of pieces of paper blowing gently in a little circle. I picked them all up and went to put them in the bin. Then I saw that one of them was a lottery ticket. It was still valid. It would be drawn that night.

Wouldn’t that be funny, I said to Albert, and put it in my pocket. I am sure Albert has no conception of lottery tickets but he waved his raggy tail as if he was pleased and we turned for home.

I was planning to make soup but when Albert and I arrived at the front door there was a casserole dish on the mat. Myra had attached a little note, hoping that May was doing better. The dish was very tasty. I turned on the telly to watch the lottery draw just for fun. It’s the one where you choose five of the numbers out of fifty. The prize had jack-potted from the previous week so it was a big prize. You got even more if you chose the extra starred numbers.

It was strange how it came out. As each number dropped out through the machine, I found myself nodding. Yep, that’s good, until suddenly I realised there were no more numbers to come out and the piece of paper in my hand had them all. Then they drew the extra starred numbers and I had them both, too.

Well, well, I said to Albert. What are the chances of that?

I put the lottery ticket on the mantelpiece. May used to do that every now and then. She called it a little flutter. I had to smile as I looked at it sitting there just next to our wedding photo. We’d never had a big winning ticket in all the years she had bought them. Now and then we’d get a few numbers, a couple of dollars back, but nothing close to a decent prize. Although I had the ticket, I was imagining that someone else was going to be very happy. I didn’t think that person was me. It wasn’t my ticket. I was just cleaning up.

I did my teeth and went to bed without giving it much more thought.

Then some time in the middle of the night, I sat up and I thought. How is anyone going to claim that ticket? By that time Albert had snuggled up and I stroked his ears for a while as I thought about it.

What was the right thing to do?

I tried to make sense of it.

Then I went back to sleep.

Day 3

In the morning, when I turned on the radio, the lottery was mentioned in the local news. One of the biggest dividends ever drawn. I wondered how many people had picked all the right numbers. The radio answered my question. Just one lucky winner. They even said where the ticket was purchased. I was not surprised about that. Where I found the ticket was round the corner from the paper shop who sold the winning ticket.

I sat there with Albert snuffling round my feet and my head full of questions.

What do I do now?

How could I possibly find the person who bought it?

How would anyone prove they were the rightful owners of the ticket, even if I did? Should I go to the police and hand it in?

So many questions.

I went out onto the verandah with my tea. It was a sunny morning and the birds were alive and chorusing in the trees. I made sure the front gate was closed then let Albert off on his own. He tends to wander away if the gate is open. He will come back eventually, usually when it’s time for his dinner. I didn’t want to spend all morning chasing after him all over the neighborhood.

I sat in the rocker trying to let it all settle in my head.

Then I drifted off. It must have been the warmth of the sun.

May was there. She was sitting on a swing in a lovely garden. I watched her. She looked so happy as she swung gently back and forth. Then she turned to look at me.

Arn, she said, smiling very sweetly. I gave you that ticket so you could look after everyone. Remember, you promised.

Then the phone rang and I woke up.

It was Doctor Rajmani.

So how are we feeling on this beautiful day? he said.

Not bad, not bad, I said.

So I am calling about your dear wife.

Ah. How is she?

Well I must tell you that she had not such a good night. She was swinging back and forth. We were concerned that we might be losing her.

Somehow the word Swinging took my breath away.

Mr Adams?

I think I must have been silent for a bit too long.

Er, yes, I managed. Is she doing better now?

Stable, I would say. We are less worried.

Well that’s good news, I said. I really don’t know what you are supposed to say to doctors in this situation. Can I come and see her?

But of course.

I stood there in the kitchen with the phone in my hand and I realised that I could hardly breathe. I really needed another cup of tea.

After I put the kettle on, I stood in the lounge and stared at the lottery ticket.

I gave you the ticket so you could look after everyone. Remember, you promised. I could hear her voice, like she was standing behind me.

Albert trotted back in and I gave him a doggie treat. I have to look after him too.

I put the ticket in my wallet and left Albert watching me from the front window as I drove off to the hospital. I told him I wouldn’t be too long.

He’s a good boy.

I drove past the paper shop and I saw there was quite a crowd. I parked and I went in. I hadn’t really thought about what I would do in there but I just felt drawn to it. Of course the place was buzzing. Mrs Saad, the lady who runs it, she’s from Lebanon, was almost shrieking with excitement. I gathered that the shop that sells the winning ticket gets a monetary reward, so she was very excited. I pretended to browse the magazines while I listened to the conversation. No, she said, she couldn’t remember who bought the ticket. Could have been anyone. She sold a couple of hundred each week, mostly regulars. I suddenly realised I was leafing through a magazine that had naked women in it so I quickly put it down and went out.

Why did I go in there?

I don’t really know.

When I got to the hospital, the nurses left me in peace with May.

She looked just the same, lying there peacefully. Her face was calm, her chest rose ever so slightly and then fell. Did she know I was there? I was beginning to wonder about that. I have read somewhere that sometimes when people are in a coma they can go out of their bodies and they can see what’s going on, and they can even go off to other places. That dream of May on the swing had really struck me. Did she do that, while she was also lying here on this bed all hooked up to wires and tubes?

When the room was empty, I leaned over to her and I took her hand. It was cool but there was a slight sense of her pulse.

Well, I said softly, This is a turn-up for the books isn’t it. I promised you I’d look after people didn’t I. And I started, just a few little things here and there. But then boom, suddenly there’s a huge whack of money to do it with.

By then I think I had arrived at the conviction that the money was part of her deal.

I sat there with her little hand in mine, listening to the machines humming and the nurses coming and going along the corridor.

I had to smile. And there you were in the dream and you said, well you know what you said....pretty amazing.

Did I catch just the hint of a smile on her face?

Maybe I just imagined it.

She certainly would have smiled if she had been awake.

Then one of the nurses came in to do her check-ups.

I went home for lunch. There were three different packages on the front door mat. One was a salad from Myra. Another one was some kind of fruit pudding from Mrs Nordstrom on the corner and the third was a chocolate cake from the Crokers across the road. Myra had obviously put the word out that I was batching.

Albert and I watched a bit of TV to pass the time. I had just about dozed off, having devoured two serves of the chocolate cake, with Albert’s nose on my lap, when Martin called.

I told him that his Mum was not too well, she was in the hospital and all that. I have to admit I down-played the situation. I didn’t want to worry him. He has his own life to take care of. I promised I would let him know how she was doing. He was a bit annoyed that I hadn’t thought to call him right away.

I didn’t want to make you worried, I said. Then I asked about the kids and he told me how they were doing. He has a great family and they are all doing wonderful things.

In the end, I promised to keep him up to date and off he went.

I wondered, as I sat there, if I should have been a bit more forthcoming.

May is his Mum after all.

Albert and I went off for a walk in the afternoon. As we passed the bus stop, the bus pulled up. It was the long distance bus that comes from up north. The door opened with a hiss and a large black duffle bag flew out and landed on the grass. The zip must have gone because the top was open and clothes fell out. The bus driver was yelling loudly and then a ragged-looking man in a long black coat stumbled off, falling onto the grass beside the duffle bag. The door hissed shut and the bus took off again. The man staggered to his feet, watching the bus go. I noticed he was clutching a black plastic lady’s handbag to his chest.

I walked over to help him pick up his clothes. As I approached, he jumped and took a step back, as if he thought I might attack him. I had Albert on the lead, so I pulled him back, thinking maybe he was scared of dogs. Not that Albert would scare anyone, he’s so quiet and short-legged.

The man looked at me with his eyes slitted. His face was grey and haggard, the few parts that weren’t hidden under a whispy grey beard.

Looks like your zip’s had it, I said.

He made a dive for his duffle bag and grabbed the clothes with one hand while gripping the black plastic handbag with the other to his chest.

Albert wanted to sniff the bag but I pulled him back.

Just arrived? I asked.

He managed to stuff everything back in and grabbed the handle.

Where are you heading?

I felt surely this was someone May would really want me to take care of.

The question seemed to puzzle him. He rocked a bit on his feet.

Staying round here are you? I asked.

His head had a kind of shake to it, not exactly a gesture just a spontaneous kind of movement. Then with the duffle bag and the plastic handbag held protectively in front of him, he took off across the road. He didn’t look where he was going and was narrowly missed by a boy on a bike. The boy shouted things that I would not want to repeat.

I watched him go. He had a walk that carried more weight than just a duffle bag. I wondered what his story was. I kept thinking about May’s instructions, certain he was someone who could do with some help, but if he didn’t want to be helped, how could I do that? It bothered me.

Taking more care than he did, I crossed the road to follow him but when he saw me coming, he began to try to run, a shambly, stumbling stagger. He was scared of me.

I pulled Albert back and stood still until the man turned the corner.

It was clear he wasn’t ready to be helped.

I guess you can only help those who want to be helped.

After our walk, I took Albert home and went to the hospital.

May looked just the same to me. I sat with her and I talked about my day. When I described the man with the black plastic handbag at the bus stop, I wondered aloud what was in it. I was getting quite used to talking to her, as if she could hear me. The nurses came and went and they seemed to be fine with me talking to her. I suppose they see that a lot with people in comas, their loved ones trying to communicate.

Dr Rajmani came by and we chatted.

He had nothing much to report he said.

We are sincerely hoping for the best, but of course we must be patient.

I nodded.

And you are feeling fine yourself? he asked as we walked together down the corridor.

Oh yes, I said, Taking care of things til she comes home. Our neighbors are being very generous. I don’t have to think about cooking.

In times of crisis, it is good to have kindly neighbors, he said.

We shook hands and he promised to let me know if anything changed.

I was getting rather fond of Dr Rajmani. Isn’t it funny, he comes from another part of the world and ends up here taking care of us. Maybe one day I would ask him about his story. I didn’t even know where he lives in town.

When I got home, Albert was waving his entire back half perched up on the back of the couch, on the lookout.

Faithful as an old dog!

We dropped in on Myra to tell her how May was getting on. I also wanted to let her know that I appreciated all the help with the food.

That’s what friends are for, isn’t it, she said. I felt I was surrounded by philosophers.

So how’s she doing?

Nothing much to report just yet, I said.

Myra had made scones and she even let Albert have one. We sat on her front verandah, the three of us and watched the afternoon fade away. Her husband Paddy is a very quiet bloke and spends almost all his time down at the Men’s Shed. He likes to do wood turning. Myra’s got dozens of wooden lampshade holders. He’s very good with roses too. His garden is full of colour. He doesn’t talk much and even when he does he’s a bit hard to understand. He doesn’t open his mouth. It’s like the words have to try to sneak out between his lips and tend to fall off the end of his chin into his chest. He used to work for the Roads Board, driving a steamroller.

Funny about the lottery, isn’t it, said Myra, as the clouds began to pink up. Just imagine that. There’s someone right here, maybe one of our neighbors, who’s an instant multi-millionaire. If it was me, she chuckled to herself, I couldn’t keep it a secret for two seconds.

I nodded.

Who d’ya reckon it is?

Could be anyone, I said.

What would I do, if I had that much money? she said. Then she smiled, Get a new fridge for a start.

We watched the occasional car amble past.

What about you?

How do you mean?

If you won the lottery.

I dunno, I said, Paint the house maybe?

It’s a lot of money, she said. Then she turned to me and she said: You could do good works with that, take care of people, like the homeless or kids with school books.

It was a bit of a shock to hear her use the words take care.

Then she said, getting into the subject with great enthusiasm: I bet the hospital could use it. If I’d won it, I’d donate it, well maybe not all of it, and they could name a new clinic after me. That’d be a hoot! The Myra O’Halloran Neonatal Wing."

Just sitting there, listening to her made me realise I had to make some decisions.

She gave me a bag of scones to take home and told me I could come round for a bite whenever I felt like it.

You know me, she said, I always cook for the unexpected guest.

I thanked her of course, but I really didn’t fancy having dinner with Paddy every day. He’s a good friend, but I can only take him in small doses.

Albert and I took off for our regular circuit.

I thought about visiting the Men’s Shed but I still wasn’t quite ready to tell May’s story ten times.

When we passed the football ground, I saw someone lying on the dirt behind the toilets. We walked across, me and Albert, and I saw it was the man with the duffle bag. He was propped up against the wall, staring off into the afternoon sun which was fading quite fast.

I stopped well short and said: You OK Mate?

He turned his eyes very, very slowly and looked up at me. He held on to the plastic handbag with one hand while the other hand came up to his chin and scratched. He didn’t say anything. I held onto Albert tightly to make sure we didn’t scare him.

Would you like a scone? I said, showing him Myra’s bag. His head moved a bit and I decided that was a yes. I tied Albert to a pole a few yards back and brought him the bag. I’m not very good at sitting on the ground but I decided to sit down next to him. When I finally got down there, with my back against the wall, I offered him the bag.

He had really bad fingernails and I kind of winced when he put his hand in the bag.

May would not have approved. He grunted a little bit and took a bite. He had awful teeth and his breath was diabolical.

I hadn’t noticed his shoes up to that point. He had almost brand new what you might call basketball shoes. All the rest of his clothes were tatters but these were really good shoes, the kind you might see on teenage boys. They are pretty expensive, probably American, and have red stripes along the side. I wondered where he’d got them.

As we sat there, I imagined asking May what we should do about him. Take him home, she said, clear as a bell.

My goodness, I thought to myself, How is this going to work?

He finished his scone bit by bit, picking up the crumbs from his beard and licking his filthy fingers.

Got a place to stay? I asked, hoping that he