In the Midst of Life

delightful to see him. We had not met for three months because he was controlling his diabetes satisfactorily by injecting himself, and he did not need our visits. I regretted the loss of his wonderful company, and would have liked to continue seeing him, but that was just not possible. As a nurse, I could not visit the flat of a single gentleman who had formerly been a patient, without bringing disrepute not only to myself but also, which was far more important, to the order of nuns for whom I worked. But meeting at the Wigmore Hall, quite by chance, was a different matter.
    We went to the bar and he offered me a drink.
    ‘Well, only water, at the moment. I never drink alcohol before or during a performance because I like to keep my wits about me to listen to the music. But I’ll have a drink later, if the offer is still there.’
    ‘It will be a pleasure, and I’ll hold you to that. But for now we will have water. I myself can never understand people who cometo hear beautiful music then dull their minds with alcohol.’
    After the concert, Dr Hyem said:
    ‘Do not forget you are going to have a drink with me, and would you like a little supper also?’
    ‘That would be perfectly lovely. Thank you!’
    Dr Hyem and I had a delightful supper in a small restaurant in Upper Regent Street. He, being diabetic, had to be careful about what he ate, but I had no such constraints, and ate more than he did. He watched me, I thought, with amusement, because his eyes were crinkling at the corners. Then he said,
    ‘You have never been hungry?’
    ‘Me? Don’t you believe it. I’m
always
hungry. I eat a huge breakfast most days, cakes or biscuits if I can get them at eleven, a huge lunch with two puddings if possible, tea with more cakes or biscuits, supper at seven – and I’m still hungry. That is why I can eat a second supper now, at eleven o’clock.’
    The moment I had spoken I was aware of my callous insensitivity to a man who had lost his entire family from starvation.
    ‘I’m terribly sorry.’ I faltered. ‘That was a dreadful thing to say. Please forgive me.’
    He smiled. ‘There is nothing to forgive. It is only natural that the young should follow their instincts and I’m sure I was always hungry when I was your age. Would you like another pudding?’
    My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and I suspected he might be mocking me.
    ‘No. No, really. But I must go, it’s getting late and I will be on duty at eight o’clock.’
    ‘Then we will leave together.’
    He paid the bill and held my coat for me to slip my arms into.
    Over the next six months or so we attended many concerts and recitals together. It was delightful. He introduced me to the rarefied world of chamber music. He obviously had an extensive and detailed knowledge of the subject, and it enhanced my enjoyment if he analysed a quartet before the performance. But he sometimes looked so sad, and once, after a Schubert quintet, he just sat forages with his head in his hands. The lights had gone up and everyone was moving about. He muttered to me:
    ‘You go to the bar, Jenny. I will join you in a minute.’
    But he didn’t come, and when I returned he was still sitting in exactly the same position, and I knew that he was thinking of his wife and children. My heart ached for him, but there was nothing that I could do or say, so I sat down and took his hand, and he gripped it fiercely. Such depth of suffering and loss cannot be shared; it must be endured alone.
    That night Dr Hyem and I travelled back together on the tube and bus. We did not talk much. He was locked in his thoughts and memories, and I did not know what to say. What
can
you say to someone who has suffered and lost everything? I fell asleep, and was wakened by a voice.
    ‘Time to wake up. We have reached the Blackwall Tunnel.’
    His eyes were smiling as I tried to adjust myself to the waking world and he took my arm to steady me. We stood on the pavement as the bus rumbled off. I looked across the road, and the church clock said a quarter to one.
    Just at that moment the clouds parted behind the spire and the moon appeared in all her silver glory. My hair blew across my face.
    ‘Isn’t that just beautiful,’ I said. ‘Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?’
    I stood gazing at the moon, and he was looking at me. Then I suddenly remembered that I would be on duty at eight o’clock.
    ‘I must go. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.’
    I held out my hand to shake