allotted space, but nothing was clear beyond.
He tried his legs again. It was a five-hundred-metre walk, if that.
It was no distance at all, and yet he’d never felt so far away.
‘Clive. Clive, can you hear me?’
It wasn’t Nancy’s voice.
It wasn’t any of his friends from the allotment either.
‘Ack!’
The noise surprised Clive, especially as it came from him.
‘It’s okay, Clive. We thought we’d lost you there for a minute.’
You had, Clive thought, wondering what he had to do to go back. For some reason, even without Nancy there, the allotment called to him. It was as if it was the place he should be. The place in which he’d work this all out.
‘I’m dead,’ Clive heard himself say. ‘Let me carry on being dead.’
‘Not on my shift, sir. We’ll have no one dying today.’
Clive opened his eyes, but he wasn’t able to focus on the blurry medic standing over him or any of the other medical staff surrounding him. The only thing that did come into focus was the defibrillator trolley next to the bed he was on. Its bright-yellow colour and purpose was unmistakable with the large red letters on one side spelling out RESUS.
Death had been temporary.
It turned out he was very much alive.
3
Keisha
Saying that I like my lab coat doesn’t do it justice. The truth is, I love my lab coat. It’s protective, practical and shields me against the world. I like that I don’t have to think about what I wear to work too much because, well, lab coat! It removes any need to nod towards fashion. What a relief that is when my capabilities in such areas aren’t built in. This item of clothing is partly responsible for the fact that on completing my cardiology degree, I remained at the university as a research associate. That and my desire to help eradicate heart disease.
We have a full day ahead of us at the research laboratory. We’re collating results for two projects and alongside that I’m working towards my PhD. We have study participants for our cardiac research booked in for every timeslot. I like it this way. I prefer the days that are busier.
‘Do you want an Oat So Simple?’ Lucy calls from the small kitchen alcove.
‘What’s one of those?’
‘It’s porridge. You just add boiling water.’
Lucy’s my closest friend. We live and work together, which for the majority of people is a recipe for disaster. Sometimes I think that it is but the rest of the time I know it works for us. Somehow, we need each other. Isn’t it true that it takes two dysfunctional people to create one source of functional output?
‘So do you want one?’
‘I had some rice for breakfast.’ I stop checking my lists to make sure she’s not about to pour boiling water everywhere. Lucy’s creased lab coat is far from pristine.
‘That’s not a normal breakfast, you know.’
‘It is in some cultures.’
‘I just need to add water up to the fill line, and leave it for two minutes.’ Lucy holds the pot up to the light as if finding the line is a game no one is able to conquer.
For a second I fear she might try to fill the container from the kettle while it’s above her head. I’m thankful when she does no such thing. It seems she is blessed with some common sense. Although most of that has come from experience rather than being a God-given gift. She must have learned her lesson from the microwave incident: the time she didn’t read the instructions to pour out the chicken soup from the sachet with the metallic strip, causing sparks to fly as a result.
The two minutes while Lucy is waiting for the porridge oats to transform to something edible is the perfect time to take a reading. I save my carotid pulse for when I can’t be seen by the general public. I worry what people will think of me if they catch me poking around at my neck. It’s an easier place to locate and measure the heart rate, but people dish out odd looks if they catch me in the act.
Because I can feel Lucy’s antics are causing my heart to race, locating my carotid pulse is easy. It is exerting itself more than usual, even though the overall rate isn’t any higher than it was half an hour before.
These finer details are the ones that I enjoy most. Being so in tune with the rhythm of my heart means I’m able to identify certain fluxes