What now? I can’t just leave! If I leave,there is a good chance I would never come back and I would never have my day ofreckoning. At a loss, I look to my siblings for advice. James and Juliet comeup with various suggestions which I consider in turn but then rule each one ofthem out. I then lift my head as I hear Caroline (who has thus far been silent)start to speak. “There is something which could work.” She doesn’t wait for anyacknowledgement from me and carries on. “How about this. We get him out of thechair, bundle him into the car and drive around for a while. He might justsober up if we let some fresh air in and turn the music up?”
I consider this. Itsickens me, the thought of sitting in such close proximity to this stinkingputrid lump. But she could be right and without any other feasible idea I startto think that yes, this could work. The motion of lifting him up and dragginghim out of the croft might be enough to rouse him and, if not, blasting hisface with fresh air and noise from the stereo ought to do it. We jointly decideto give it a go.
I crouch down and angle my body in such away that I manage to drape one of his arms around my neck. Gripping fiercelyonto this appendage, I raise the dead-weight of his carcass to a stand. I amsurprised. There is not much to him. He is a shadow of his former self and ittakes far less exertion than I had anticipated to hold him upright. He can’tweigh much at all; his frame is tiny. Perhaps he has succumbed so fully to hisaddiction, he has forgotten to nourish his body with food, preferring to simplyquench his thirst for alcohol instead? Well, whatever, it was certainly goingto make my task easier!
Even through all the effort of heaving himout of his seat, he remains in an impenetrable stupor. There is the oddgrunt-like noise but no attempt to open his eyes or form any words. Perhaps hewill come to life as I drag him out of the dining room? Only one way to findout.
I take it at an easy pace. Yes, he has asmall frame, but it’s still no mean feat dragging a lifeless body along. Atfirst, all the effort is on my part. However, as we reach the far side of thekitchen, he applies a little weight onto his feet. On the face of it to look athim, it looks as though there is no cognitive function taking place. But thereis some distant thought process is quietly at work of its own accord for thesteps he is taking become more considered and pronounced. If I were to removemy grasp, he would simply crumple in a heap on the floor but aided along, he issomehow managing to work with me.
My siblings offer words of encouragement,but I need to stop for a minute to catch my breath. I lean for support againstthe wall in the hallway and try a last-ditch attempt to rouse him beforeexiting the croft. It would be far better if I didn’t have to executeCaroline’s plan. If I could only get him to come to life! We couldn’t be anycloser, he is draped around me but still no response when I shout his name. Igive him another shake (whilst trying to maintain the positioning of his armaround my neck) but zilch, nothing, there is literally no-one at home!
I take a deep breath and dig deep as Inegotiate the last section – moving him from the hallway to the car. I amsilent now, focussed on this last task. However, my siblings are chattinganimatedly amongst themselves; “What a state to get yourself in”, “He is alost cause” and worryingly, “Someone should put him out of his misery!”
I had hoped the blastof icy cold air when we ventured outside would be enough to engage his sensesbut, again, nothing coherent or determinable; only the grunts and groans ofsomeone heavily intoxicated. I began to wonder if Caroline’s plan would come tofruition.
Now for the hardest part, angling thislifeless body downwards and onto the passenger seat. There is now a fair oldwind blowing and for the first time, he makes an attempt at communication – Ihear something akin to “What?” I take full advantage of his newly foundlucidity but reason that if I want him to co-operate with me, I should refrainfrom showing any signs of contempt. “Bert, help me out here, let’s get you to aseat. I am going to count to three and on three, I need you to crouch down thenlift your feet into the car and sit yourself down. Can you do that for me?”Nothing. I just have to hope he does what he’s asked. Here goes nothing! “OK,one, two, three …” His eyes remain firmly shut and there is no sign ofmovement. Fabulous! “OK,” I say, speaking to no-one in particular, since it isabundantly clear he is still very much ‘under the influence.’ “You leave me nooption!” I unhook his arm from around my neck and immediately the bulk of himcollapses to the earth with gravity, but I intercept this just before he hitsthe ground and manoeuvre him haphazardly into the seat.
Beads of sweat have formed on my foreheadand I press both palms onto the roof of the car directly above the passengerdoor to steady myself, head bowed until I catch my breath. “Well done,” I hearJuliet murmur. I pause for thought. There is no going back now. I have him inthe car but where are we going exactly? Stick to the plan! As Caroline said, ifwe drive around with the window down and the music up, he should come to life –surely? “Come on, let’s do this.” (A reassuring prompt from James who I amquite sure is loving every minute of this. Any sniff of adventure and devilment– James is your man!)
I am only too happy to open all
