Sitting up in bed, Albert could see that he was in a room of four beds. Three were occupied, only the one opposite his feet was empty and the sleeping form diagonally opposite was Victor. Albert could see his face; the colour in it was a healthy shade, not deathly pallid, and though he was sleeping, he wasn’t hooked up to a bank of machines to monitor his vital signs.
Turning his head toward the window, Albert found his clothes from the previous day neatly folded in a pile on a chair. Someone had cleaned, dried, and ironed them. His shoes even looked to have been polished.
There appeared to be no hospital staff around and no noise coming from outside of the room to indicate there were people there. ‘Do I press the call button?’ he asked himself. Not getting an answer, he decided to get himself dressed instead because he always felt naked and exposed in hospital gowns. He would be happier meeting people if he were dressed in his own clothes.
Gently tugging the curtains around his bed until he was shut off from view, Albert doffed the gown and that was when he found he was wearing hospital issue underpants. That meant someone had put them on him. No doubt his were soaked through, but he couldn’t help feeling a cringe as he pictured a pretty young nurse pulling down his undergarments.
With a sigh, he dropped the white cotton shorts and picked up his own. Of course, that was when the nurse on her rounds pulled back the curtain to see inside.
Albert heard the curtain open and span around, his blue paisley underpants in his hands and his meat and two veg on display.
‘Good morning,’ she trumpeted.
‘Arrrgh!’ he screamed.
Unperturbed by his terrified yell, the nurse advanced, dropping her clipboard on the bed. ‘Would you like a hand to get dressed, dear?’ She was coming forward with her hands out to take his underwear.
She was a short woman with wide hips and large round glasses that made her eyes look bulbous. In her late thirties, Albert felt sure she would claim to have seen it all before and no doubt she had, but now he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to use the paisley shorts to cover himself, or whip them around behind his back so that she couldn’t get to them.
‘I can manage,’ he stammered.
‘It’s okay to get a little help, love. We all get old.’ She was still coming forward, her hands at his groin height and reaching forward. If he pulled the shorts away now, she might grab something else.
‘Did I hear a scream?’ asked another nurse, pushing the curtain aside as she too came to help. ‘Is everything all right?’
Her colleague turned her head to reply. ‘The poor dear just needs a little help getting dressed.’
Nurse number two, a slightly younger and much slimmer version of nurse one, gave Albert a sweet, encouraging smile. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘This won’t take us a moment. Veronica and I do this every day. We’ll get you dressed and then we’ll sort you out a nice bit of breakfast.’
Now Albert had two women advancing on him, and he was still naked. If they would just turn around or go away, he could get some clothing on his skin and regain his dignity. All he could manage to do was back away with his undershorts held firmly to his groin. ‘I don’t need any help,’ he stated firmly.
Unbelievably, the curtain twitched again as yet another nurse came through it. This one looked to be at least ten years older and wore a darker blue uniform. Her stern, no-nonsense expression made Albert think she had to be the matron.
‘What’s going on here?’ she barked though Albert wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at him or the nurses.
‘We’re just giving Mr Smith a hand to get dressed,’ said nurse two. ‘He’s a little shy, I think.’
‘No, I don’t …’ Albert managed before the matron cut him off, uninterested in what he might have to say.
‘Hurry up about it then,’ she barked at the nurses. ‘The police are here to see him.’
Just about ready to abandon being polite, Albert’s eye flared even wider when the curtain shifted yet again, and DS Craig came through the gap. Worse yet, he had a young female officer with him, and it was her reaction that tipped Albert over the edge.
The girl spotted Albert, glanced down to his groin, and back up but by then she was looking away and trying to stifle a laugh.
Albert threw his shorts on the bed, letting his tackle swing free. ‘Get out!’ he roared. ‘Every last one of you. I have been dressing myself since my age was in single figures and I am not so old that I can no longer manage.’
His outburst made the two nurses, who were closest to him, back away a pace. Albert locked eyes with DS Craig who needed no further encouragement. He swivelled on the spot, and shoving the young female officer ahead of him, he beat a hasty retreat.
Nurse one tugged the curtain back in place with a final, ‘Just call if you do need a hand with buttons or anything,’ and finally Albert was alone. He dressed swiftly, determined to prove a point, but in doing so, he discovered his body had developed a few aches. His hips and knees for a start which he attributed to all the walking he had done over the last two days. In Bakewell and Stilton, he’d gone around in a car a lot of the time and in Melton Mowbray, the distances he’d needed
