He stared at her. ‘I know that. But I wasn’t going to die last week.’
‘No? The doctors thought you were.’
‘Well, they were wrong. I’m going to die in two days. On Thursday, 28th of May.’
Mary was flabbergasted. She’d heard patients say some strange things—but this! Oddest of all was his certainty. Despite herself, she felt a need to confront him.
‘Morning or afternoon?’
‘Morning.’
She wanted to ask him the exact time of his death, but decided to draw back from the topic.
‘You’ve had a nasty shock, Mr Hanley. A very nasty shock. It’s left you a bit—a bit confused. But the good news is—’
He glared at her. Mary could see that he was used to giving orders and didn’t like to be contradicted.
‘—the good news is that your condition is stabilizing. You’re out of the danger zone. If you’re lucky, you’ll leave here at the end of week.’
‘I’ll leave here before then. On a stretcher to the morgue. Thursday, I’m telling you.’
Mary decided to change the subject. ‘Would you like me to close the door?’
‘No. Too stuffy.’
‘Do you need anything?’
‘A gin and tonic?’
At last, a touch of humour.
‘I don’t think we’ve got any gin, but I could get you a sherry.’
Mr Hanley frowned and stared at Mary. ‘A sherry? I thought this was a hospital.’
‘It’s a hospice, not a hospital. We try to make you comfortable. And if a little tipple helps…’
Wednesday
At the morning handover, the nurses talked about Mr Hanley: none of them liked him. They exchanged scraps of information. He’d been a property developer, a ruthless one, immensely rich for a while, but had lost a lot in the last crash. Divorced, of course. Two children from different marriages: he’d banned them from seeing him. No one else visited.
Mary started her walk round the ward. Mr Hanley was making a long phone call. Once again, he’d insisted on keeping his door open and his voice echoed down the corridor. As she visited her patients, Mary caught odd phrases.
‘Brian, I want this done now… I’m paying you triple rates, aren’t I?… No, there isn’t time… Immediately, Brian, immediately… Then fix it…’
Mary pieced together what he was doing. It was his will. He was disinheriting his son and daughter.