Whiteout by Jonah
Those who have read my previous stories will need no introduction to Simon and Garret and their family. Those who haven't - why not? This is the latest in the series that began a couple of years back with "A Letter from America" and it fits in right after "Christmas in New England". If you haven't read the others, don't worry. It will stand on its own. It is a story of love - the real sort. Some of its characters are gay, though that doesn't matter. They are good people. They are not, however, real people. This is a work of fiction and every character is also a fiction - created by me, except for Garret, who was created by Jacob Lion, in the USA. I want to thank Jacob for permitting me to use his characters. This story is brought to you, free of charge, by Nifty. Nifty brings all these stories to you free of charge and he doesn't charge us authors either. The cost is borne by himself and our donations. To keep this site going please consider donating to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/
Chapter 2
The roads were treacherous. Snow, on top of ice crystals, on top of frost, with the occasional surprise patch of black ice underneath, did not make a good driving surface. I was barely making ten miles per hour as I felt my way back to Newton St Faith. The boy next to me was silent. Was that because of concern for his mother? Or perhaps a verdict on my driving? Maybe he just didn't want to distract me. The wipers dealt efficiently with the falling snow but that on the road was a bigger problem.
As we turned into the village the road was white over, but at least there was no traffic so I could slow right down. It took another ten minutes before I was parking on our drive. I wasn't surprised to find Garret already home.
"One extra for dinner," I told Garret as I let myself in. "Garret, this is Ross. He has to stay for a day or two. Ross, this is Garret and he's making dinner. The other three are Lloyd, Philip and Barry."
The boy was too ... I don't know what he was too, but he was definitely too it. It could have still been shock, or shyness, or embarrassment. Either way, he was only capable of silence. Unable to organise himself, he needed organising.
"Give me your coat, Ross, and slip off your shoes. That's right, now grab yourself a seat by the fire. I'm going to ring the hospital after dinner to see what I can find out about your mum. I don't think they'll let us visit today, but I might find out when we can."
"I don't think you could get there in this weather."
Those were the first words he had spoken for a while.
"Just sit yourself down," I told him. "Dinner won't be long."
He sat and stretched out his legs in front of the fire. Since he looked comfortable, I headed for the kitchen to explain things to my partner.
"Sorry I didn't consult you," I finished.
"You don't need my agreement anyway," he replied, looking out of the window. "If I didn't want him here, you couldn't take him anywhere else in this. We seem to have what the Welsh call a "fait accompli" - at least, those Welsh who speak French call it that."
"Is Ross going to live with us?"
"Only for a day or two Philip. His mummy is in hospital so he needs somewhere to be until she's better."
"Oh," said the boy and imediately disappeared upstairs.
Garret and I both seemed to have that sort of relationship with our boys. They invariably accepted whatever decisions we had made. They would express a polite interest, but didn't ever suggest that they might have had an opinion on the matter and should have been consulted. Of course, we would consult them if we thought they should have an input, but they were content to accept our verdict on that.
Garret served up his beef stew and dumplings and we wolfed down the apple pie and custard.
I wanted to have a word with the University Hospital, which I was sure was where an accident victim would have been taken, but I really didn't want to do it in front of Ross. Hopefully he would be OK with our boys, although he was four years older than them.
"Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital, Emergency Department."
"Hallo. I'm inquiring after a Mrs. Coulter, who was brought in this morning after an RTA."
"Can I ask who's speaking? Are you a relative?"
"My name is Simon Ito. She only has one relative - her son who is with me until she is well enough to look after him again."
"Can you hold the line a moment?"
I was at a loss to discover what sort of instrument immediately began playing the Elizabethan Serenade. It was certainly no instrument that had ever played in any orchestra.
"Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us - please hold the line."
I was gratified that my call was important to whatever electronic device just said that. Clearly the Electronic Serenade was not to be allowed to play uninterrupted.
"Thank you for holding. Your call is..."
"Mr. Ito?"
"Yes, hello."
"I'm sorry, but we are only allowed to give out information about patients to relatives. Can you put her son on the line?"
"I'm afraid I can't. it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to deal impersonally, and by telephone, with a fourteen year old boy who has just been told that his only living relative is critically ill in hospital."
"Mr. Ito, I didn't say that Mrs. Coulter was critically ill."
"Madam, you didn't say that she wasn't either. What is Ross supposed to think if you insist on keeping him in the dark?"
"Mr. Ito, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to hold again."
Oddly enough, that sounded to me like progress. Besides, I was beginning to like the Elizabethan Serenade, even played by that ghastly computer programme.
"Thank you for holding. You call is important to us - please..."
"Mr. Ito?"
Different voice - definitely progress.
"Yes, hello."
"Sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Ito. My name is Sandra Laing, I'm the administrative officer for the Emergency Centre. Can you tell me, was the boy placed with you by social services?"
"Yes he was."
"Thank you. Could you give me the name of his case worker?"
"I'm dealing directly with the director - Mrs. Jenkins."
"Thank you Mr. Ito. I'm sorry about all the red tape, but we have to be so careful with patients' information. Now I just have a quick call to make. Is this the best number to call you back on?"
"It's the only one I've got."
"Thank you. I'll call you back in a few moments."
That was it. No more Elizabethan Serenade.
It took ten minutes for them to get back. This time it was a man's voice.
"Mr. Ito?"
Yes."
"I'm Dr. Woods of the Norwich and Norfolk. Mrs. Laing says she has permission for me to speak to you directly about one of our patients. Mrs. Coulter?"
"Yes. I'm looking after her son."
"Yes, from what Mrs. Laing said, I gathered that. I'm afraid you might be looking after him for longer than you expected. Mrs. Coulter is in intensive care at present. She had emergency surgery when she first came in but we've had to induce a coma to allow her body to heal. One of her lungs was almost totally crushed by five broken ribs. She wouldn't be able to cope with being conscious. She also has a broken leg, but that will heal in its own time whether she's conscious or not."
"So it wouldn't be advisable to bring the boy in to see her?"
"How old is he?"
"Fourteen."
"Well it wouldn't be advisable at the moment. You'd both be casualties yourselves before you got here, but when the weather clears up a bit it might not be a bad idea. Comatose isn't the same as unconscious. In fact we can't tell what level of consciousness she has. I suspect she'd know if the boy was there and it might do her good."
"I'll make sure that happens. Thank you very much Doctor."
I found Ross in the boys' room. He was sitting on the edge of Lloyd's bed and was watching three boys play Top Trumps (trains).
"Can I borrow you a moment Ross?" I asked.
Returning to my own room I explained the situation to him.
"What do I do now?" he asked.
"When your mum is ready to come out of hospital, you'll go back home. You might need to look after her for a bit. Until then you might as well stay here."
He nodded without looking up. Obviously not thrilled by the prospect but then, what can you expect?
I left him to it.
"How's he doing?" That was Garret all over. I don't remember a time when he wasn't supportive.
"Probably better than I would. It's hard to tell."
"Well neither of you are going anywhere tonight," he said. "If this keeps up we could all be stuck here for the duration."
That was the signal to settle ourselves at our own fireside and relax. Outside the wind had got up and the snow came in flurries, but we were snug.