She took another slow deep breath. She had to keep it together. Be strong. She mustn’t make it harder for him.
Brushing a lock of hair away from his brow with her free hand, she noticed his normally thick lustrous dark brown hair was limp and thin under her fingers. God – even his hair was dying.
‘Evie…’ His voice was so faint she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. But he persisted. ‘Want you…be happy… someone…love you …you deserve.’
‘Don’t say that. Please, Doug. I can’t bear it.’
‘You made me happy… good wife…now you…loves you…’
‘Oh, Doug. What are you saying?’
‘Badger … Reggie.’
‘You want Reggie to take care of Badger?’
He nodded. ‘Arth…’
‘Arthur’s here. You want to see him? He’s outside.’
She felt a faint squeeze to her hand. Afraid she was going to break down, she said, ‘I’ll tell him to come in.’
She rushed out into the corridor, afraid that she was about to collapse completely. ‘Go in,’ she said to Arthur. ‘He’s asking for you. I’m getting myself a glass of water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ She half ran down the passageway through the main door and into the garden, where she flung herself down on a wooden seat and gave in to tears.
By the time she returned, ten minutes later, Doug was sleeping. Arthur looked up from the bedside and stretched his lips into a wistful smile. She sat down on the other side of the bed and held her husband’s grave-cold hand. The room was silent for several minutes, apart from the tick-tock of a wall clock. Ticking down Douglas’s remaining time on earth.
At last Arthur spoke. ‘He asked me to tell you he loves you and he’s sorry for what’s happened.’
Evie bristled, exposed, vulnerable, sat here with the two men she had cared most for, with the man she loved, relaying the dying declarations of the one she had married. It was absurd. Horrible. And it was wrong to be talking about Doug across his dying body. She choked back her need to cry out to rail against the horror of it all.
A nurse came into the room and took Doug’s temperature. She studied her fob watch as she took his pulse, giving a sympathetic smile to Evie, then mouthed, ‘Not long.’
After the nurse had gone, Arthur spoke again. ‘I’d like to stay here with you both, if you don’t mind me being here.’
‘Don’t you need to head back to Singapore?’
‘I telephoned and left a message for Sir Shenton. I’m staying in Penang as long as I can be of help. Doug asked me to stay.’ He looked down. ‘Apparently I’m his executor.’ His voice was low.
‘I didn’t know that. Thank you.’ Far from angry at Arthur, she was grateful for his quiet presence.
The day passed. They kept a silent vigil at Doug’s bedside, leaving only for Evie to telephone home to check on the children.
The nurse approached her as she finished the call. ‘Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, Mrs Barrington?’
‘I’m not leaving him.’
The nurse nodded, her face sad. ‘You and the gentleman need to go and eat something. I have to change the dressings. You need to leave the room for about twenty minutes. The canteen’s open for another half hour.’
‘Come on,’ said Arthur, steering her along the corridor.
In the canteen, Arthur ignored her protestation that she couldn’t eat, and ordered a plate of fruit and some sandwiches. As soon as they were in front of her, Evie realised she hadn’t eaten in almost two days. She devoured a sandwich.
‘I can’t help feeling guilty, sitting here eating while he’s lying there dying,’ she said at last.
Arthur said nothing, but he nodded agreement.
‘I still can’t believe it’s happening.’
‘Neither can I,’ he said. He sucked in his lips. ‘It’s so wrong. So unfair. Seeing a man like Doug laid so low.’
Evie put down the piece of mango she’d been eating and began to cry. Arthur leaned over the table and took her hand.
‘I may not have loved him in the way I should have done…’ She left unsaid the obvious reason for that. ‘But I do love him, you know.’
‘I know you do.’
‘Even though he’s often cold and finds it hard to express his feelings… but maybe that’s why I care for him. Because I know how hard things are for him.’ She paused. ‘Did he tell you about his brother?’
‘He has a brother?’
‘Had. He died when they were children. See – he couldn’t even bring himself to tell you, his best friend that.’ She explained the story of Bertie’s death and how Hugh was named after him.
‘That explains a lot.’
‘If he dies… when he dies… I don’t think I’ll ever get over it, Arthur. I’ll always wonder if I could have done more for him. Made him happier. Been better at reaching him. He was so closed off. I tried but maybe not enough.’
Arthur smiled sadly. ‘You couldn’t have done more, Evie. And you did reach him. He told me this morning that
