Time trundled on and finally the first year had ended. Joe had achieved his targets yet it meant little as the first year’s grades didn’t have any true value. It was merely a bridge to cement a solid foundation for second and third year, a tough revision of A levels as it were. He had seen Julia around the campus yet they had little interaction both ignoring each other after the library debacle. Rumour had got around due to the eavesdropping students and now Joe was revered as some heartstuck casanova, and he had now gained some peculiar status as a love guru. He had received quite a few emails on the IntraNet either asking for advice or outright asking him out for a date. Needless to say his spam folder became increasingly full.
He had decided to return to his Grandparents for the summer to visit Darius who would be starting 6th form in the autumn. He took the stinky diesel first great western down to London Paddington which only took an hour and then the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf, followed by the DLR to Crossharbour. His grandparents had moved there a few years after he was born, having no interest in retirement in the north. Thankfully Joe’s grandads miserly ways had plenty of money put aside and had thus afforded a small flat on the isle of dogs. The neighbours left plenty to be desired, but for Doug and Sandra it was sufficient. Being close to their grandkids was all they wanted.
In that way, since John''s death, Darius had been adopted by the elderly couple and he had regained a sense of normality. Upon arrival, Joe punched Darius in the arm, stating it was quite likely he would be taller than even he was and asking what position he took in Rugby. Darius good naturedly rubbed his arm and went into spiel about the most recent match and how he ‘demolished’ the opposition into muddy bloody messes. He was clearly very proud of defeating his rivals, and likewise Joe cheered him on.
“I suppose we should go visit Mum no?” Darius asked Joe.
“Mmm” Joe replied, shifting in his seat. “How was she the last time you visited?”
Darius shrugged. “No change. As you know the doctors did an EEG but it came back inconclusive, or rather, no obvious or overt activity” he quoted. Joe nodded as he took his raincoat from the door, mumbling his goodbyes to his grandparents.
As they trudged their way to the station, wind biting at their exposed faces, Joe asked about Darius’ school life, his relationships and how he had been in general. The boys were close so their conversation was free and easy, taking them all the way to Goodmayes Hospital where the mother was currently held.
There are certain smells in a hospital that makes one feel uncomfortable. The utter sterility of place, especially one for those suffering from mental ailments seemed to Joe, not conducive to mental recovery. However he was not a professional and kept his thoughts to himself, the only sign was the wrinkling of his nostrils as he crossed the sliding doors. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
His mother was kept in a cosy room that the boys and their grandparents had decorated with their mum’s favourite bits of tat. Despite the families'' every effort the place still seemed foreign to them. All the more foreign for the blank faced women, who had lost all her middle age weight. She was sunken eyed, and lay motionless in bed in the middle of the room. Joe took out Travel with a Donkey in the Cévennes, one of his mother’s favourites and began to read. No response could be seen from Maggie’s somewhat catatonic features but the boys were used to this. Joe continued to read whilst his brother faffed about with his mother’s flower arrangement, stepping back to admire his handy work from time to time.
In some ways, the boys'' minds eased as they spent their allotted two hours with their mother, despite their mother’s state. It was as if they could see their beautiful mother washing the dishes or softly humming as she annotated a gardener''s almanack in her neat, flowing handwriting.
The train ride home was a subdued affair, both boys lost in their own thoughts. Joe had a conversation with Maggie’s nurse who had once again indicated no change in their mother from what she could see on a day to day basis.
As such, the summer passed quickly, with reading, visits to his mother and outings with his grandparents and Darius. He made no attempt to visit his friends nor did he seek out Julia, although he would often find himself staring at her mother’s station on the tube map.
Towards the end of his holiday, Joe decided to take his bike out for a jaunt, taking the southeastern train to Sandwich where he planned on cycling to Dover for lunch at the White Horse, a freehouse of great renown for ales, gins and food. Then he would proceed up to Canterbury to catch the train back to London. A fairly hilly and ambitious ride but Joe felt like a challenge. It was mid August and the sun blazed high in the sky. 30 degrees C the man on Radio 2 had said, and Joe felt it. He was thankful for the cool sea breeze that drifted in from the east and felt his endorphins hit overdrive. It is true that Kent is really the ‘garden of England’ he thought to himself, as he raced past rows of hops and bustling hedgerows ripe with birds and wildflowers. He could see the men in the fields harvesting what appeared to be lettuces and carrots. He took a deep breath and smiled. After hauling his way up a steep hill he crested to see Dover harbour and he town spread out beneath him, with the Castle towering to his left. The best part he thought, as he freewheeled his way down the steep hill towards Dover’s old town, the wind tugging at his hair. Unfortunately just as he reached the bottom of the hill, having gained quite the momentum, the lights flashed yellow and Joe applied his brakes. He heard a snapping sound as his rear brake cable tore free forcing him to release his front brake to prevent him flipping over the handlebars head first. Regardless, a car’s bonnet emerged from the hidden junction like a fox from its den. Time slowed down for Joe as the inevitable happened, attempting to steer away from the oblivious car he slammed shoulder first in the ridge of the car’s window, denting it instantly. Like a rag doll, his momentum took him flying over the car, shoulder and right arm flailing behind like a kite streamer. He bounced on the road, head slamming into the pavement, coming to a halt in a crumpled pile outside a Turkish barbers.
For a moment nobody moved, shocked into inaction, and then finally mobile phones were withdrawn and the services called. Joe was unaware, he had blacked out as soon as his shoulder had been crushed against the car and was floating in oblivion.