Swan Song

“Betty?...Betty?”

The words of the man’s gently, questioning voice echoed softly, not only, in the old woman’s ears but, easily throughout her mind. The moment felt distinctly familiar to her, but it wasn't here it was somewhere else and had happened…somewhere else? Try as she might she couldn't put her finger on it. Where was it she was thinking of again…? Was it a few weeks... or a few years ago? She couldn’t ‘quite’ remember. How frustrating to find the specific chronology temporarily eluding her, skirting along the tip of her tongue, in addition to around the corridors of her memory, much like Theseus, using his ball of yarn, slowly negotiating his way around the Minotaur's labyrinth. All she had to do, to remember, she reminded herself was to untangle the wool. This was in complete contrast as to how she actually felt though, which was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as fresh and as clear to her now, as it was, whenever that was, that she’d felt these things before.

“Betty, I’ve got your night meds, “ the kindly voice said, interrupting her all too easily derailed train of thought. Betty opened her eyes. “Fred?” seeing the thirty-something, bearded, tattooed, male nurse in front of her she corrected herself “ No you’re not Fred” then added quietly, as a P.s. “ Hello Robin”

Robin smiled and helped his private patient to sit up a little better as he offered her, her nighttime medication. “ I’ve got your night tablet here, Betty”. She opened her mouth, as she had done countless times before, allowing Robin to place the medication in her mouth followed by 2 heavy-duty sips of water, not only to well and truly see the pill off on it’s way, but additionally in order to remove the bitter residue of the unpleasant taste lingering on her taste buds.

“A small piece of chocolate to help get rid of the taste?” Robin asked, already opening her bedside drawer in anticipation.

“Oooh, yes please “ she replied, her face instantly lighting up, losing, at the very least, eighty years in the process.

“There you go,” he said, gently placing one thin piece of dark chocolate on his wards expectant tongue who closed both her mouth and eyes, totally savouring her treat for every moment it was worth.

Finally reopening both again, Betty asked, completely out of the blue, “Now what was the name of that place again?”

Robin, as a long-term carer of Mrs. Woods, looked towards her, quizzically, and pondered briefly, wracking his brains. Knowing her as well as he did, he thought he might, like so many times before, and particularly often of late, be capable of coming up with ‘the’ / a sufficiently right answer to fill the gap. However, discovering his efforts to be of no avail, he eventually had to concede, to being none the wiser.

“ I’m not sure which place you mean, Betty”

Puzzled, yet not in the slightest perplexed, Betty’s focus drifted from the face of the man in front of her to that of the fine looking man wearing a dark rollneck sweater and a mariners Breton cap in an old black and white photo on her bedside cabinet. The gaze of the handsome sailor within that silver frame giving the appearance of looking as equally adoringly towards Betty in that very second, as Betty clearly was towards him. Closing her eyes again, but tight this time, an overwhelming sensation of intense bliss overcame the old woman, as her nostrils began to twitch detecting a slight but distinct whiff of salty, sea spray in the air, whilst her tongue, expectantly, probing her lips, sought and found a trace of the saline there also.

“Betty?...Betty?”

Opening her eyes again, considerably slower than before, Betty found herself both amazed and delighted to find herself looking up at Fingal's Cave with its magnificent, hexagonal shaped columns of basalt, impressively making up the cave’s interior, with its magnificent swell of the atlantic waves, and the surge of its winds matching the powerful ebb and flow of emotion pulsating through the very core of Betty Wood’s being.

“Yes” she realised “This was the place “ and, as if on cue, off in the distance, Mendelssohn's “Hebrides” concert overture, her favourite classical piece of music since that beautiful day, could be heard playing somewhere

.

What a magical day that had been. Fred had taken her there in his sailing yacht “The Westward” She’d no idea at the time where he’d been taking her. He’d played Fingal's Cave on his small portable record player on the journey over, and had told her they were going there for a picnic. Once there after having taken her to see inside the cave - they headed out onto the rocky beach where they ate freshly baked bread, sliced meat, hard boiled eggs, cheese and pickle all accompanied with a nice cheap bottle of red. Most significantly, though, is that that was the occasion when Fred, completely unexpectedly had proposed. “When was that now?” she wondered briefly, before realising it didn’t matter at all .

Looking ahead, Betty knew now everything was going to be just fine. It wasn’t that she was entirely certain of what was happening, to be honest she’d not been too well of late and had been confused quite a lot lately, but what she did know was that that handsome looking man, with his Breton cap and peacoat jacket, that always looked so good on him, was at long last here again, and seeing him flashing ‘that smile’ of his once again in her direction ….well! Her heart began flying and melting all at once.

“Fred” Betty exclaimed affectionately

“Come on Old Gal” he said, taking her hand firmly but gently “Time to go” .

Together, with the love of her life once more, Betty’s happiness knew no limits. Her face and body glowed in the warmth of love and the rays of the sun setting on the horizon.

Still holding Betty’s hand, Robin felt his patient's life gently slip away.

“Time to go, Betty.” he uttered reverently a tear trickling down his cheek “ Bon Voyage”

Together at the ship's helm Betty and Fred, united in a loving embrace, steered The Westward slowly on course towards the sunset, sailing over the horizon, and beyond...