Our Song : Track 6

The Musical Interludes of a Last Chance Romantic

Sixty Years On - Track 6 of 11

Reggie had not quite anticipated what awaited him as he entered the reception area of the surgery. At the front was a small counter with a young blonde receptionist, dressed in immaculate white uniform and stood behind it holding a pile of papers in her hands, tapping them against the surface of the desk. She glanced up briefly towards him, then her eyes returned to the papers, her red lips moving very slightly as if singing to herself.
The room appeared to be virtually empty, the seating area which consisted solely of six black leather arm chairs and a single small coffee table to the side holding a variety of magazines was entirely void of life … except one.
Reggie had to rub his eyes to ensure he had seen correctly. Sat on the seat opposite where he stood, and reading a magazine on cars, probably dating back a number of years, was Bernie.
He had no idea that Bernie had been unwell, let alone in such a way that would see him being given a referral to the same specialist as Reggie. 
“Bernie?”
Bernie glanced up from his magazine and smiled. “You made it then?”
How had he known? Reggie had deliberately kept this appointment a secret from everyone, and yet here was his best friend sat before him as if he had been anticipating his arrival.
Reggie walked across the room to his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman behind the counter give him a quizzical look, before dropping her head back to the pile of papers she seemed insistent to shuffle like a deck of oversized novelty playing cards. “Of course I did, what are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d offer you some moral support old friend. You didn’t think I’d leave you to go through this all by yourself did you?”
“There really was no need, it’s only a preliminary appointment. Probably won’t find anything out really, just a few friendly questions, you know, get to know one another, that’s it.”
“I hear Professor Smith is an excellent doctor. None better so I’m told.”
“I hear he’s a little crazy.”
“Yeah that too.” Bernie laughed.
“How would you know anything about Professor Smith?”
“I know people who have been treated by him. If you haven’t noticed Reggie, we’re both pushing into our later years. While the youngsters are checking each others’ statuses on these social networking sites, we’re more adept to looking through the arbitraries.”
“Ha ha, we shall see.” Reggie was surprised at the sense of relief he felt when he had seen Bernie from across the room, somehow the ordeal did feel somewhat more relaxed now there was someone to share the suspense. “Will you excuse me? I’ve just got to sign in.”
Reggie gave a hand gesture towards the receptionist and Bernie nodded in understanding, as he turned and made his way over to the counter. In his head he rehearsed what he was going to say:
Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Dr Smith.
Hello, I have an appointment with Dr Smith.
Hello, my name is Mr Dudgeon, I have an appointment.
Maybe dispense with the formalities.
Reginald Dudgeon, I’m here to see Professor Smith.
That’ll do. Short and to the point.
Reginald Dudgeon, here to see Professor Smith.
Reginald Dudgeon, here to see Professor Smith.
Reginald Dudgeon, here to see Professor Smith.
Before he knew it, Reggie was stood at the counter staring at the top of a bleached blonde head. The darkened roots were beginning to become visible from around the sides of her head. 
The girl looked to be aged in her mid twenties, her outstanding bleach blonde hair was tied up in a manner almost identical to a soft whip ice cream, but missing the chocolate flake. Her face was covered in thick foundation and her lips were a deep shade of red that shone in the reflection of the light. He also noticed her deep red fingernails that appeared to be over an inch long and matched perfectly the colour of her lips.
He didn’t wait for acknowledgement from the girl, but immediately announced himself. “Hi, I’m Reginald Dudgeon, I think I have an appointment with Professor Smith.”
It wasn’t how he had rehearsed it at all, not confident or authoritive by any stretch of the imagination. It felt like such a contradiction for him to be feeling nervous when speaking to a member of the opposite sex; but this wasn’t the art of seduction. He felt completely out of his depth in such an unprecedented scenario.
The nerves were clearly on display as he spluttered out his words, as if he was in some way being tested for the manner in which he pronounced his arrival. Not wishing to embarrass himself any more, he pulled the appointment letter out of his coat pocket and held it over the counter for the receptionist.
But the young female seemed to pay little attention to what was in his hand, instead she glanced down to the computer screen to her left, tapped some of the keys for a bit and then forced a quick smile as she looked up to him. “Professor Smith will be with you in a minute if you don’t mind taking a seat.” There was another false smile, and then her eyes returned to the stack of papers which she now held in the landscape position and began to scan around the edges as if looking for any rogue corners.
“Erm, would it be OK for my friend to come into the appointment?” As he spoke, Reggie felt old and feeble at making such a request. Bernie had often been his wing man in their younger years when making a first approach to an attractive young lady, but from there on he would need little assistance from his counterpart further than occupying any additional friends that the intended target may have in tow.
Now, he looked over his shoulder at Bernie and for the first time in his life just wanted to hide behind him. He realised that he had mumbled most of his sentence leaving very little chance for the girl to understand what he had asked.
She raised her head with a puzzled expression and asked, “What did you say?”
The way she asked, along with her condescending manner seemed to sweep Reggie’s legs away from beneath him, leaving him no taller than a school child. And so he repeated the request, again with the frail, nervous voice of a man twice his senior, “My friend? Will he be allowed to sit with me for the appointment? For moral support.”
The girl, with what seemed a permanently puzzled expression leaned forward and took an over exaggerated look to either side of Reggie. “I’m sorry, what friend?” She asked, having made certain to show Reggie she had taken a good look across the room.
Reggie turned around, ready to point to his friend sat at the back of the room and put this young girl in her place for such a disrespectful display. But to his surprise he had gone, and having prepared himself to gloat, he was now left to turn back around with a voice of a confused old man. “Erm, he was here a moment ago.” Reggie could hear it through his own ears as he spoke and shuddered with embarrassment. “He may have just popped to the toilet. I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a toilet.”
“You don’t have a toilet?”
“Well, we do, but it’s in Professor Smith’s consultancy office, so unless you are a patient it’s not accessible.”
“Maybe he popped next door.”
“Next door is a construction site at the moment, the only thing you’ll find worthy to use over there is a builder’s hard hat, and I can’t imagine they take too kindly to that sort of thing.”
Reggie couldn’t decide whether she was trying to be funny or offensive, there were certainly hints of sarcasm within the undertone of the comment. Either way, he was not wholly enamoured by her manner, nor in the way that she seemed to be implying that she hadn’t even seen Bernie and further still that maybe Reggie himself was going a little crazy.
Of course that was all nonsense, but even so, Reggie couldn’t help but wonder where his friend had gone. A friend who had been sat behind him just a manner of seconds earlier, and disappeared into thin air.
There was no chance his mind had simply made him up to feel comfortable with the situation was there? Lately Reggie found himself questioning reality a lot more than he had ever done before. But this? If this really was the case, he had clearly come to the wrong type of brain specialist.
Of course he was here. What a ludicrous concept.
You have been under a lot pressure lately.
Unlike her you mean.
The girl was once again stood behind the counter rhythmically bouncing the pile of papers onto the desk as if in time to some tune playing in her head.
She wouldn’t notice if a herd of elephants stampeded through the office, stole all the chairs, and left a joint deposit in the centre of the room like a surreal piece of contemporary art.
But she’s young, she would have seen an elderly man sat across the room from her. After all he was here prior to your arrival.
But if he didn’t approach her, why would she have known he was there?
She should have heard him enter the room.
She didn’t hear me.
Didn’t she?
Reggie thought back to how he had entered the room. He closed his eyes and pictured himself opening the door, which he did silently. There was no bell or alarm that he could think of and he remembered how the door had been manual as opposed to the automatic types that were appearing more and more at various places of commerce. He then recalled looking over towards the counter where the girl was stood patting the paperwork on the counter.
He noticed the pristine condition of her uniform, only on closer inspection it wasn’t so clean. There was a small dark stain over the left hand side chest pocket, and the hem on her right arm sleeve was frayed slightly. Also her collar was half folded over giving the impression it had been forced on in a hurry. Her hair also gave an impression of haste, with a number of strands hanging loose from the main perm that settled on top of her head.
Then, from behind the woman, Reggie saw what appeared to be a man. The first proper view he got was of a pair of hairy arms as they reached around the waist of the receptionist causing her to drop the papers in shock. Then a smile appeared across her face, as the man leant forward and kissed her on the side of the neck; her hand raised forward and began to run through his hair, as the kissing and caressing became more and more amorous.
Suddenly the girl looked up, and gave a little gasp as her eyes made contact with Reggie. The girl’s face lit up, almost to the same shade as her lips and it was then that he recognised the male behind her, it was Bernie. His old friend Bernie, who seemed to give no sign of embarrassment or shame, merely stepped aside from her, revealing his naked torso and waved “You made it then?”
Reggie walked across the room to the counter where his friend was now stood, he could see the woman beside him giving Bernie a not so subtle nudge in the ribs and whispering something on Reggie’s approach. As he arrived she quickly bent down and picked up the papers she had dropped, her hair had now mostly fallen away from the top of her head and was flowing down to her shoulders; it also appeared a little darker than he had previously thought, though still blonde. Perhaps it was natural after all.
She then began shuffling the papers back into some kind of order, just as she had been doing when he entered, stepping back away from the two men. “Of course I did, what are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d offer you some moral support old friend. You didn’t think I’d leave you to do this.”
“There really was no need, it’s only a preliminary appointment. Probably won’t find anything out really, just a few friendly questions, you know, get to know one another, that’s it.”
“I hear Professor Smith is an excellent doctor. None better so I’m told.” He turned and smiled at the receptionist as he spoke the last sentence, which seemed to cause her great embarrassment as she giggled like a naughty school girl.
“Ha ha, I might have found one.” She interrupted.
“Only might have? Gimme ten minutes and I’ll help make your mind up.”
“I can’t believe you just said that, you are so naughty, shhh… he’ll be down any moment.”
They both laughed flirtatiously with one another; it started as a mild giggle, but soon turned into a full burst of laughter. The girl was almost shaking with delight, causing her face to appear older and more wrinkled. She no longer looked like a young girl in her twenties, but a woman in her late fifties, her hair now entirely loose and hanging down to her shoulders. There was something uncomfortably familiar about the girl that he hadn’t noticed before, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Did she just say he’d be down in a minute? But there is no upstairs. Professor Smith’s office is across the floor from here.
The door to the doctor’s office opened causing everyone to go silent. Reggie’s head turned round to see an elderly man, with short, grey hair and dark rimmed glasses step out of the doorway clutching a clip board in his hands. “Reginald Dudgeon?” He asked.
Of course there was no one else by that name and yet still Reggie looked around the room just in case. The receptionist was once again stood by the counter shaking the various papers in her hands, only now her hair was incredibly back into the ice cream shape on top of her head and there was no sign of Bernie anywhere.
That settles it, after this we’re gonna find you a dose of reality. It’s all in your head mate.
On Reggie’s acknowledgement in the form of a hand wave, the Professor replied “This way please,” and disappeared into the room. Reggie immediately followed, glancing back over his shoulder at the young girl stood humming to herself behind the counter.
She’s far too young and attractive for such a boring, old git as Bernie.
The idea of Bernie being sexually active with such a girl made Reggie laugh out to himself. The idea of Bernie, whom he had suspected at times to be gay, having any sort of relations at his time in life when he had failed so miserably in the art of seduction when he was young enough to have had a chance was laughable.
Pure imagination. Though why are you having sexual images of your old mate? Is there something Valerie ought to know?
No, don’t be crazy, of course not. Anyway, it wasn’t a sexual image.
Of course not, we all imagine our best mates naked, it’s what we do as men isn’t it?
Reggie wasn’t gay, far from it, and he’d been with sufficient women to prove the point. This was a thought best forgotten.
Inside the office, Reggie was taken aback by the number of posters on the wall, there appeared to be no space for actual paint as each side was covered by a montage of various medical imagery. One of these posters even appeared to be overhanging most of the window and causing a somewhat unusual blockage to the incoming natural light.
“You’ll have to excuse the light.” The Professor said beside the door, just inches from where Reggie stood and causing him to jump. “It gets very dark outside these days.” He announced as he flicked a switch by the door frame and a large light in the centre of the ceiling illuminated, causing Reggie to shut his eyes in the first instance owing to the brightness.
“I do apologise, it takes some getting used to I’m afraid, but they do insist on arranging these things far too early in the morning. I can hardly see my own hand for the lack of light.”
Reggie slowly opened his eyes, allowing the pupils to peek through the slits between his eyelids to become accustomed to the lighting level, like a newly purchased pet mouse, peeking through the cracks of his cage at his new owners. The Professor had stumbled his way across the room to the other side where Reggie saw a desk with paperwork scattered across it.
The Professor looked surprisingly old, much older than Reggie and he seemed to hobble across the floor as if both hips were on the verge collapsing. He felt the overwhelming need to run over and steady the man, or at least wait beside him in case he fell. But he held back, and despite his dithery demeanour, it appeared that he was perfectly capable without assistance.
The poster that overhung the window was flapping, it appeared that the window was open, yet the Professor seemed oblivious from his earlier statement even of its existence. He began to walk over to the window to take a better look and could see sunlight poking through the far edge of the poster, it was clearly still a bright sunny day outside.
“You said your name is Reginald Dudgeon did you?”
Reggie was halted in his tracks by the puzzled voice of the Professor. “That’s right.” He looked to his right and saw the old man fumbling with various papers on his desk, throwing them around and dropping a number of them on the floor. “I have your papers somewhere,” he announced, trampling across those that had fallen to the floor as he scuttled around the desk rummaging through the rest.
The table was absolutely covered in paper. As Reggie approached the desk, it was then he realised that he couldn’t actually see the top of the desk for paper. The patches of wood he thought he had seen whilst stood from a distance had turned out to be brown coloured note paper that even possessed a certain texture that resembled the wooden grains of an oak table.
“Rebecca my dear?” There was a beep and a pause as the Professor leant over the table seemingly using the intercom that all good businesses possess.
“Yes Professor?” The reply was very polite, and keen. Reggie wondered if this was the same girl that had greeted him at the reception desk when he had arrived.
“Could you assist me in finding Mr Dudgeon’s papers. I seem to have mislaid them again.”
“Yes Professor.” She again responded politely and then disappeared.
“Do make yourself comfy.” The Professor announced, looking to Reggie before again turning his attention to the desk and brushing more and more reams of paper across the floor with every sweep.
Reggie looked around for a chair, there wasn’t one either side of the desk which was the usual place for a chair. To the right hand side of the desk Reggie saw a bed with a white sheet which appeared to have just been draped over with no real finesse. There was also a privacy curtain which had been drawn open, and to his surprise, what looked like a wet bath towel hanging over the rail.
A pile of men’s clothes lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed, and at the foot end Reggie could just make out a chair. Or at least he assumed it was a chair for it was mostly covered by a further pile of screwed up clothes, with the only means of recognition coming from the ground where between the floor and the legs of a pair of blue jeans, Reggie could see four thin wooden legs resembling that of a chair.
The clothes on the floor consisted of a white shirt, brown trousers, black socks and on top, a pair of white and brown underpants. Reggie could only assume that these clothes belonged to the Professor, and perhaps owing to a late night he had chosen to sleep in his office. This would possibly explain such a grand reputation of which Bernie had spoken.
Although the old man had appeared to Reggie at first to be slightly senile, it was possible that he was still enthusiastic about his job, and bearing in mind he must at least be seventy years old, it was not unthinkable that he would choose not to take the long journey home every night should he finish in the late hours of the night. Reggie had seen no evidence of a wedding band on his ring finger, nor any photos of loved ones to return home to. Therefore it was perfectly conceivable that the Professor would spend some nights in his office, close to his work.
At that point, as Reggie made his way over to the bed to take up a seat whilst the Professor continued searching for his papers, Rebecca, the secretary from outside entered the room. There was no knock or other such courtesy, but instead she stepped straight into the room carrying a handful of sheets that Reggie imagined must be the papers for which the Professor was looking.
The Professor appeared not to notice Rebecca’s arrival, nor more surprisingly when she stood beside him by the desk placed the documents down, and then as quickly as she had placed them down lifted the exact same ones up again just before the Professor’s hand came sweeping past knocking a further flood of documents to the floor. She then held them out in front of him and stated, “Here they are Professor, they were just on the table beside you.”
Everything about her voice and demeanour suggested that she was being deadly serious, despite the fact that Reggie had seen her carry in those exact papers just moments earlier. The Professor took hold of the papers, and adjusting his glasses slightly to get a better look acknowledged their receipt with a happy, “Those are the ones, thank you my dear. I can’t imagine how I didn’t see them. What would I do without you?”
Reggie raised himself onto the bed, and sat glaring at the two figures hovering over the desk in disbelief. Should he say something?
You didn’t see them because they weren’t there you crazy old fool. Did you not see her bring them in just now?
Reggie chose to remain silent. He was here for himself, not to interfere with the delicate balance between Professor and Secretary. There were clearly a number of issues in this situation that didn’t need him meddling.
Rebecca then turned around with a satisfied look on her face. As she made her way back towards the door, she turned her head over her left shoulder, gave a short smile in the direction of Reggie, then proceeded out of the doorway, shutting it afterwards.
“Now Mr Dudgeon, may I call you Mr Dudgeon?”
“Absolutely, or Reggie, whichever you feel more comfortable with.”
“Comfortable? Good point.” The man seemed to be speaking to himself as he hobbled across the room to where Reggie was perched. “Move aside young man, plenty of room for one more.”
Reggie obliged and lifted himself with his arms, sliding across the bed towards the bottom end where he felt a little more at ease at being sat on the outer bed sheet. The Professor perched himself in the centre of the bed, then proceeded to wriggle his backside into the mattress. Eventually he seemed to make himself comfortable and sat still looking closely at his notes.
“Tell me Reggie.” He looked over at Reggie with a proud smile on his face, as if somehow they had managed to develop an instant rapport by his immediate use of Reggie’s more familiar and informal name. “How frequent do you seem to be suffering with these head traumas?” His voice turned particularly dark and mysterious with the last two words, as if trying to add some sense of drama to the occasion.
“I can’t really say there is any particular frequency. They seem to come and go at the strangest of occasions, and never coinciding with any particular theme or set of identical circumstances.”
“I see,” The Professor responded, then wriggled his bottom again, causing a small wave across the top of the bed sheet. “And in what way do these head traumas effect your everyday working conditions?” Again he over emphasized the words Head Traumas almost like the selection process of an automated phone service “you have selected the film Time Bandits. Please hold the line.”
“It doesn’t actually effect my work at all you see, I retired just last year…”
The Professor interrupted in a disapproving manner. “I see, go on.” And once again, fidgeted his backside on the mattress.
“That is to say that my sleep pattern is heavily affected by the continuance of my…”
“Hold for one second.” The Professor interrupted as he fidgeted his backside again. “Would you mind standing whilst you speak? I can’t seem to make myself comfortable.”
“I suppose so.” Answered Reggie, and he lifted himself off the bed. He then turned to see the Professor wriggling his backside around the mattress as if sat on some kind of medicine ball, wobbling to his left, and then to the right, until he finally sat still and upright.
“You may proceed, thank you.”
Reggie looked at the Professor. Was he going to offer him a seat? It appeared from his demeanour that the answer to this was no, so he chose to continue with his detail. “Like I say, although I have retired I am finding the headaches are causing me a lot of anxiety with regards to sleep where I am only able to engage in rest when I least expect, and when I choose to slumber, my mind decides otherwise.”
“Very interesting, continue.”
“As a result, I am frequently unsure as to my situation and whether or not I am experiencing what some might describe as an hallucination, or whether my reality is indeed that which is experienced by others.”
“And how often does this occur?”
“My dreams or reality?”
“Either or both, they are not mutually exclusive. One predetermines the other, therefore only one is necessary unless you feel it within yourself to disclose both.”
As the Professor spoke, it occurred to Reggie that he wasn’t actually making any notes of their conversation, there was no writing instrument for him to do so, and the papers seemed to be merely flapping in his hands, without him paying any attention to what was written on them. “Are you not writing any of this down?”
“I see no need at this stage, my mind is well adept to absorb what you have to say. And should I choose to dispose of any of the information you have chosen to divulge, I can do so with the simple blink of an eye without having to further fill my waste bin with additional rubbish. I do hate unnecessary mess you see.”
Reggie looked behind him at the quantities of paper scattered across the floor around the desk and almost laughed out loud with indignation.
“Would you like some tea?”
“What?”
The Professor hopped down from the bed and stepped over to the desk. “Tea? Would you like some?”
“Erm no thanks.” Reggie responded slightly surprised by the sudden break.
Professor Smith then leant over the desk and Reggie heard him speak into the intercom. “Oh Rebecca.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Could you bring me in two cups of tea?” He turned to Reggie, “Are you sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m fine thanks.”
“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be tea.”
“No thanks.”
“Rebecca is particularly proficient at mixing water.”
“Erm, that’s fine thank you.”
“No? Tea? Coffee? Water? Juice? Squash? Cola? Diet cola? Fizzy cola? Flat cola? Warm cola? Frozen cola? Lemonade? Wine? Sherry? Whisky? A small glass of single malt to warm you?”
“Whisky at this time in the morning?”
“We can hardly wait until this evening my dear friend, I have other patients to attend to.”
As far as Reggie had seen there were no others waiting outside, but he decided this discussion over drinks was prolonging the examination long enough without bringing further topics of debate into the mix. “No thank you I’m fine really.” 
“Erm, make that…” There was a pause whilst he was considering some undisclosed eventuality, “Yes, two cups of tea. And a donut?” Again he turned to Reggie, “Would you care for a donut?”
“No thanks.”
“Plus the biscuits, not the chocolate ones, but the…” Once more he looked at Reggie, “I trust you would rather plain to chocolate biscuits? Hmm?”
“I am fine without if I’m honest, I’m not at all hungry.”
“Come now my good man, you must eat something.” He turned back to the desk. There was something highly amusing about seeing this little old man, stretching over a pile of paperwork in order to speak into the intercom. “Yes, bring the plain digestives, and …” He turned to Reggie once more, “Cake?”
This time Reggie just shook his head. So Professor Smith continued his list in the hope that something would tempt him.
“Scones? Crumpet? Muffin? Toast? Jam on toast? Beans on toast? Ham on toast? Beans & ham? French toast? Buttered toast? Burnt toast? Raisin toast?”
The list seemed to be endless, but with each one Reggie just shook his head knowing at some point it would all be over.
“Just the teas and biscuits will be fine thank you very much Rebecca.”
“On its way Professor.”
“You did hear I didn’t want a tea didn’t you Professor?” Reggie interrupted realising that despite his polite decline, the Professor had still requested two cups of tea; and to his knowledge it was only the two of them currently in the office.
“I always have two cups of tea, one never seems to be enough.”
“Why don’t you just have bigger cups, and then fit it all into one.”
“My dear sir, if I was to do that then I should have to buy an entire new set, to which I have no intention of doing so.”
“Then just buy the one.”
“I couldn’t possibly.” The Professor announced indignantly, like a true Hollywood movie star. “It wouldn’t match the others, and then my patient wouldn’t feel at ease if forced to drink from a different style of cup to my own. No, that would not do at all, certainly not the way I do things around here.”
The Professor slipped off the desk then walked over to Reggie and looked him up and down as if preparing to fit him for a suit. “Yes, we need a sample.” He announced to himself, as he began hobbling around Reggie. “Yes a sample. Where is that girl with those teas?” He asked, almost completely out of the blue and with an air of annoyance in his tone. “I can not think like this.”
“I’m sure they’re coming, you only asked her about ten seconds ago.”
“That’s right, I need a cup for your sample. I shan’t be a moment. And at the same time I shall see where your tea has got to.” With that, the old man walked over to the door, opened it and stepped out of the office.
There was a knock coming from the window. Had it been happening whilst the Professor was in the room and he just hadn’t heard it? Reggie walked over with a degree of apprehension. This wasn’t the usual occurrence in the middle of a medical examination, but then this was no ordinary medical examination.
There was another knock, rat-a-tat-tat, it reminded Reggie of an old television programme. He lifted the poster which had obscured the window to see Bernie’s face peering through the glass, behind whom was the glorious light of the mid day sunshine. Bernie gestured anxiously to Reggie to open the window.
Looking around the frame, Reggie spotted the catch, and twisted it. The catch felt stuck at first, and with both hands required a good deal of force; this window had possibly not been opened in many years. But, with the catch loosened, Reggie began to lift the window up and open, a process that required more strength than he had anticipated, but slowly he managed.
As soon as the window was open just a foot from the frame, Bernie began to speak, “You gotta get out of there straight away, before he comes back, quick.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Before the Professor comes back you gotta climb out the window, hurry, I’ll help.”
“I’ll do no such thing you must be out of your mind. What’s all the panic?”
“The Prof, where did he say he was going? To get a cup for your sample?”
“Yes, but how did you hear that?”
Bernie’s speech was so hushed and hurried, that Reggie was finding it hard to keep up, “He thinks you’re mad, bonkers, lost the plot. He’s not getting a cup at all. He’s getting a sedative, something to calm you while he makes the necessary arrangements to have you sectioned.”
“What? Me? Insane? Have you met this guy? He’s off his rocker? He’s not just turning senile, he is the very personification of the word!”
“Come on Reggie, you gotta get out quick. Rebecca told me. He’s gonna sedate you any minute.”
“Rebecca the secretary? On first name terms are you?”
“Look, let’s just say I know her well. She’s agreed to stall him for a moment while I get you out. That’s why the tea is taking so long to come. Now hurry up before he comes back.”
“Took so long? He only asked for them a few seconds ago.”
“Honestly Reggie, you need to stop calculating time by your own instincts and trust me. We have to go, now!”
There was an urgency in Bernie’s tone that Reggie hadn’t heard for many years, but it got him thinking that maybe it was a good idea to bale out sooner rather than later. After all, he wasn’t sure he trusted his sanity and brain to this crazy old man, who knows what long term damage he could inflict given the chance. He continued to push the window open, until it appeared wide enough for him to fit through.
“Hurry Reggie, he’s coming.”
Reggie pushed his head through the window, along with both his shoulders, then he attempted to raise his right leg over the window sill, but the stiffness in his hip joint wouldn’t allow him to do so.
“Hurry Reggie, hurry.”
Reggie tried again, this time with a lot more urgency, his heart was pumping furiously, his adrenalin overflowing. With all his force, he managed to raise his knee sufficiently to rest on the window sill. Then, with one more push using the strength in his right leg, he forced himself out of the window, just in time to hear the door of the office open, and the Professor enter the room along with Rebecca.
“Mr Dudgeon. Do not be alarmed, I promise you that this wont hurt a bit.”
That was enough for Reggie to believe that what Bernie had told him was the truth. He was only supposed to be collecting a cup for his urine sample, yet his words clearly indicated he was prepared with some sort of injection.
Reggie didn’t need to see what the Professor had in store for him to know it wasn’t going to be enjoyable. The two old men stepped away from the open window which was once again covered by the large wall poster concealing the scenery outside.
Hurriedly making their way around the side of the building towards the front, Bernie placed his hand across Reggie’s chest and pushed him hard against the wall.
“What did you?”
“Shhh!” Bernie covered Reggie’s mouth with his hand, smothering any attempt to speak or make a noise. And then Reggie heard the reason. The sirens of a police car were drawing closer to them. Then the car stopped, and Reggie could hear two men alight from the vehicle and make their way into the building.
“Quick, we gotta hurry.” Bernie said, and with that he grabbed Reggie and dragged him around the building, onto the pavement and away from the parked police car which was now situated on the path outside the surgery with its blue lights on the roof still flashing.
“Into here.” Reggie felt himself hit the hard concrete surface whilst his eyes remained firmly on the blue lights shining in the distance, and all around him was fog.
“Reggie, we need to get out.”
“What do you mean?” Feeling disorientated from the heavy fog swirling around his face, Reggie looked up, it was a rejuvenated Bernie stood over him. It was like looking into the past through a hazy mist, with his old friend looking down on him looking half his age. His hair was now thick and black, his face void of any indication of old age, including wrinkles. But there were dark blotches across his cheeks and nose, like army issue camouflage face paint. 
“The building’s on fire, we need to get out.”
Reggie lay on his back, and could see the flashing blue lights shining in the dark smoke encapsulating the sky.
“The fire boys are on their way, but we have to get out.”
Reggie could hear the crackling of the flames around him, and the crashing of heavy chunks of timber collapsing onto the floor. The back of his head was throbbing in pain, the clouds of smoke swirling around him, feeling as though they were penetrating his skull and filling his mind with poison.
“We gotta go Reggie.”
Reggie felt both of his arms being lifted by the wrists, although he could not see them. There was still strength left in his legs, not much, but enough to assist in raising his body from the ground.
Reggie could hear the heavy coughing in front of him, though could only see a dark silhouette of his pal through the smoke. There was a further thrust of force upon both wrists trying to lift him, he could feel the tension through both arms and across his shoulders as his back rose from the ground, but a heavy thrust of smoke forced him backwards and onto the ground.
A further couple of attempts were made to raise Reggie from the ground, each time with a higher sense of urgency about them. But Reggie could feel his body rising less and less with each thrust. The final attempt was little more than a minor shuffle of his spine over the hot, wooden floor.
Reggie knew at that point it was all over, the strength of his friend was failing, and if he was to have any chance of surviving he would have to leave now. Sure enough, as his mind started to talk through his prospects and the inevitability of his situation, he felt the grip on his wrists loosen, and his arms fell to the ground with a simultaneous thud.
It was all soon to be over. Reggie’s last thoughts were of his girlfriend and soon to be wife Valerie. How he’d finally found the right one for him, and how happy he would have been to have spent the rest of his years with her. Perhaps he hadn’t quite told her enough just how special she was to him.
“Day dreaming again Reggie?”
Reggie’s eyes opened with a start, and to his surprise, as he lay flat on his back, he looked to see a much more aged and haggard image of his old friend Bernie looking down over him. Behind him was a bright blue sky, with a select few, small white clouds hovering above.
“The fire?” Reggie enquired, “What about the fire?”
“Fire? What fire?”
“The warehouse, it was falling all around us. And I couldn’t get up. And the smoke, the smoke was unbearable.”
“Warehouse? Mate, that was years ago.” And with that, Bernie took hold of Reggie’s arm and lifted him up to a seated position. He had a mild soar to the back of his head, which he rubbed down with his palm.
The scene felt absurd and it caused Reggie to burst out in laughter when he finally scanned the immediate environment around him and realised where they were. Here were two elderly men, crouched over what seemed to be a concrete door step of some sort, in hiding from the Old Bill as they sought to escape from a crazed, needle wielding, elderly, doctor. Reggie looked behind him to see a grand looking porch way to a large Edwardian building.
“What is this place?” Reggie asked.
“Damned if I know.” Bernie replied, “It was the first place I could find that was out of sight from the road.”
“What about the police?”
“Gone, they passed by about five minutes ago. I reckon if we hold off for another ten to fifteen minutes, we should be OK.”
Reggie looked at Bernie with a puzzled expression, glancing at the grey hairs and wrinkled face of his friend. “How did you know the police were on their way?”
“I told you, Rebecca warned me. He asked her to call them in case you kicked off. He was convinced you were having some sort of psychotic episode. I don’t know what you told him, but he’s convinced that you’re completely off your rocker.”
“But he’d hardly left the room before you were knocking. There wasn’t enough time…”
Bernie interrupted. “Time, Reggie, time. Sometimes time can be deceiving.”
Reggie laughed, “He was probably right then. These days I’ve been feeling that I’d probably benefit from some time in a loony bin.”
The two old men looked at one another and laughed.
“How did we escape the fire anyway?”
Bernie looked surprised at the question, “Don’t you remember? Maybe old age is getting to you.”
“I remember lying on the floor, and you trying to help me up, but we couldn’t manage it, and the next minute…” Reggie’s voice faded away as his mind cast back to his final breaths of heavy smoke.
He couldn’t see a thing, the clouds of smoke had grown so thick that they had created thick veils over his eyes. It seemed like hours since Bernie had left Reggie to his fate, the pain in his head had numbed to a faint discomfort. There was a growing aching beneath his arm pits, and a vague scratching sensation across his back, as if he was being dragged across the floor.
“You pulled me out.” Reggie looked up at his friend. “You literally dragged me out of the jaws of death, risking your own life.”
“It’s what anyone would do for a true friend.”
“My best man.” There was something uncomfortable about the sharing of affection between two men in this way, but Reggie’s adrenaline was still pumping and the sensation was not all too dissimilar to the feeling you get after one too many alcoholic beverages and you’re convinced that everyone needs to share your output of emotional pourings. “And here you are again, saving my neck. Mate, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Bernie chuckled, “I can’t take all the credit, I think I got us into half of these situations in the first place.”
“In it together, and out of it together.” Reggie took hold of his friend’s arm and they both rose to their feet. “So, where to now?”
“You’ve got some rehearsing to do haven’t you old pal? Your Anniversary is only a couple of days away now.”
“Do you really think there’s still enough time?”
“There you go worrying about time again. Sometimes you’ve got to just believe in what is meant to be, and not waste your energy on the logistics. You have progressed immensely over the last couple of days. If you told anyone how much you’ve taught yourself to play piano in just a matter of days they wouldn’t believe you.”
“So how did I manage it?”
“I’m sorry?”
Reggie’s face suddenly turned serious as he looked straight at his compatriot. “It normally takes people a number of years to learn the piano, and here I am trying to learn a fairly complex piece of music, with no previous experience, and in a matter of days.” He paused to see no obvious reaction appearing on Bernie’s face, “And at the risk of sounding arrogant, pretty much succeeding. How?”
Bernie stood looking back at Reggie blankly for a few moments, it was as if he was hoping that this silence would nullify the conversation and allow a new subject to be addressed. But Reggie’s continued stare suggested that this wouldn’t be the case on this particular scenario.
“How would I know?” There was almost a guilty look to his expression as Bernie replied to Reggie, as if he did know something and was unwilling to spill the beans. Again, Reggie’s uncompromising stare seemed to tell Bernie that he knew there was more to tell, and he was going to find out what.
“It’s partly because you are only really learning one song.” He paused and changed his tone apologetically, “Not that it’s not impressive, because it is. But you’re only learning one song, it’s not as if you’ve become classically trained.”
“I know, but the more I think about it, the more I realise it shouldn’t be possible. But the more I realise that, somehow, the more I discover that it is happening in spite of it being an impossibility. It’s an entire contradiction. And as you were the one who led me to believing it was possible, I can’t help but consider that you too are well aware of the existence of this paradox. It’s all very well me possessing the arrogance to believe I could achieve this phenomenon, but how would you possibly have that faith… no, that belief in me? Unless, of course, you know something I don’t.”
“How long have we been friends? I’ve known you all my life mate, I know what you’re capable of.”
“And it doesn’t seem crazy to you?”
“Some things just seem to work out mate. Some times you don’t ask questions, you just reap the rewards.”
“Life without questions?”
“There are always questions, but don’t always expect an answer or you’ll be waiting a long time.”
“Now who’s preoccupied with time?” The two men laughed, the conversation was over. Reggie knew he would not get any further information. For now.


To be continued...
Track 7 - Border Song