‘I am your friend, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but I can’t do that.’
Once more she pointed to where I’d written: “Kill me.”
‘No,’ I said.
She turned away from me, dropping her hand from the book and I saw in her eye a look of absolute despair.
‘Nelly?’ I said. She didn’t respond. ‘Nelly, this is a big thing you’re asking of me. If anyone found out …’ I bit my lip. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Nell.’ My throat was thick with tears. ‘I don’t want you to die. And it’s illegal, Nell. I could go to jail. I could hang.’
Slowly Nelly turned her head so she was looking at me. She tapped the page of the book where I’d written “dying” and then where I’d added “it hurts”.
‘I know.’ I looked up at the ceiling. ‘I know. But you’re not a horse with a broken leg, Nell. I can’t just put you out of your misery.’
She took my hand. Her fingers felt cold and bony. She was disappearing before my eyes, already a shadow of the woman she’d once been. Deep in her throat she made a whimpering sound. And then she let go of me and tapped the page once more, spelling out “P … L … E … A … S … E”.
‘I can’t make a decision now. I’ll need to think about it,’ I said. ‘I don’t even know how I would …’ I paused. ‘But I promise I will think about it.’
Nelly gave a tiny nod and turned her face away from me again. It seemed our conversation was over.
*
I picked up the book in shaking hands, and left Nelly’s room. As I went to go out of the ward, Matron stopped me.
‘Can I take the book?’ she asked. ‘I was telling my friend Prue about it – she works on ward 3 but she’s been off because her husband was killed. She said she’d like to have a look. Maybe write something herself.’
Aware of Nelly’s messages tucked away at the back of the book, I knew I should say no, but Matron was holding her hands out, and I couldn’t think of a reason to say no that wouldn’t sound odd. ‘Of course,’ I said in a shaky voice. Nelly’s messages were garbled and scribbled because I’d been writing the letters any which way as she tapped them. I’d just have to hope if anyone came across them they’d think they were doodles. Because if anyone read her request …
I took a deep breath and handed over the book to Matron as a yawn overcame me. Goodness I was tired all of a sudden. I needed to get home and have some sleep before I was due back at the hospital. I wasn’t sure I’d get so much as a wink, though, with Nelly’s request weighing heavily on me.
Sluggishly, I pulled on my coat and hat and, my mind on poor Nell, walked along the corridor and outside into the frosty air.
‘Elsie, you’ve been ages.’
It was Jackson. Of course it was. He was sitting outside the hospital on the wall and when he saw me coming he jumped on to his feet, barring my way. I was so tired, so worn out with it all, that I barely registered the primal tickle of fear at the backof my neck. With what seemed like too much effort, I raised my eyes to his face.
‘Hello.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said. ‘You should have told me you’d be late.’
I frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Why should I have told you I’d be late?’
‘Well, it’s polite, isn’t it?’ he said.
I looked at him. My best friend had just asked me to help her die, and here was this sorry excuse for a man, standing in front of me, talking gibberish. Speaking clearly as though he were hard of hearing, I said: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jackson.’
‘Are you tired?’ He looked sympathetic. ‘Long night? You’re the one who’s not making sense.’ He reached out and took my arm, gripping it more tightly than I thought was necessary. His expression changed from caring to cross. ‘It’s polite to tell your fella where you’ll be, and when. It’s good manners. Surely even you understand good manners?’
Now the fear was right there, jolting me out of my tired stupor.
‘Jackson,’ I said carefully. ‘You’re not … We’re not …’ I searched for the right words that would make it clear I wasn’t his girl, and I didn’t want to be his girl, but in a way that wouldn’t upset him. Because, I realised now, I was afraid of him.
‘Not what?’ he said. His voice had an edge that made me feel nauseous.
And then from across the street came the parp of a car horn and a voice called: ‘Elsie! Elsie, over here!’
