When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

Paul McCartney

November 1992

Julian drifts in and out of sleep, dimly aware that he is in bed, and isn't quite comfortable, although unable to change position. He dreams of his mother. He can hear her voice, but it sounds a long way off, with a strange underwater feel to it.

She is saying, "Oh thanks, love. I could murder a coffee, if you don't mind getting me one."

Julian tries to reach out for Noel's hand, but there is something in the way. He gives a tiny moan of frustration as his fingers twitch uselessly.

Everything becomes still and silent, as if time has frozen, a breath being held.

Then he hears his mother's voice again, and it has an unbearable tension in it, like clockwork wound too tightly. 

"Whatever you do, don't make a fuss and frighten him, but please, go and get someone. He's just woken up."

Julian never knows the commotion which follows; the scurrying, and raised voices, and sharp questioning, and thankful tears. He's asleep again.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Even before Julian opens his eyes, he knows his mother is there, and he feels her hand on his forehead, soothing him.

"Mum," he gasps through parched lips.

"It's alright, I'm here. I won't leave you. Are you back in the land of the living yet?"

Julian isn't sure.

"He's an angel," he says to no one in particular, an aching loss in his chest.

"Who's an angel?"

Julian moans out his answer, and promptly falls asleep. His mother turns to address the other people in the room.

"I think he said No," she says worriedly. "Do you think he's in pain? Should we get a nurse?"

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

The next time Julian wakes, there is weak sunlight coming in the window, and a morning noise and bustle in the corridors. A nurse is beside his bed in a navy blue uniform, her dark hair neatly tucked up out of the way. A scarlet poppy is pinned to her breast. 

"Good morning, Mr Pettifer," she smiles. "How are you feeling today?"

"Rubbish," Julian groans.

"Well, you've been through a difficult experience," she says, feeling his pulse. "You're lucky to be alive, and it will take a while before you fully recover."

He asks the nurse where he is. She says the Royal Something-or-Other, as she takes down his other vital signs.

"Everything looks different," says Julian sceptically.

"You've been moved out of ICU," the nurse says, as if that explains it. "But don't worry – we'll take just as good care of you here." She attaches her notes to the foot of his bed.

"Where's my mother?" asks Julian, shamefully aware his voice sounds fretful and childish.

"Your parents are with Dr Henderson at the moment," she says. "I think your grandmother is just outside, if you'd like to see her?"

Julian nods, and the nurse pokes her head around the doorway, saying, "Mrs Pettifer? He's awake now, if you'd like to come in. And would you like a cup of tea?"

Julian hears his nana saying, "Oh, thanks love. If you wouldn't mind. A nice strong brew."

A moment later Nana is at his bedside, looking tired and very frail, although carrying herself stiff and upright as usual. 

"Well, good morning my duck," she says, bending over to give him a dry kiss like autumn leaves. "You've given us all a right scare, haven't you?"

"Sorry Nana," says Julian, with the ghost of a smile. "Won't do it again."

"You'd better not," she says, pretending to be stern. "I think Someone Up There must've been looking out for you."

Julian tries to respond, but it's hard to talk, he feels so drugged and drowsy. "Mother," he manages to say, and then, with less certainty, "M-Mary."

"I'm sure Mother Mary and all the saints are watching over you," Nana nods sagely, and then, "Oh, thank you, Nurse Gopal. Bless you, dear."

But before Nana has taken a sip of her tea, Julian is asleep.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

It's late afternoon when Julian opens his eyes again. Lights have been switched on, curtains drawn, and the smell of hot meals being delivered to patients wafts through corridors.

Julian's sister is sitting on the edge of his bed, listening to her Walkman with her head down, hair over her eyes. She's got the volume  turned up loud enough that he can hear the tinny sound of the music she's got on.

Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind? 

"Oh. Hi," Julian says, blinking himself awake. "Pixies."

"Hi," his sister says warily, sitting up and removing her headphones. "What pixies?"

"You're listening to them," Julian says, nodding towards the Walkman. "The song."

"Oh. Right, yeah," his sister says after a moment. 

It suddenly strikes Julian how alike she is to Nana - the oval face and high cheekbones, the same way of holding her back very straight, the same economy of movement. Had Nana once been just such a slender arrow, flying through the air with resolute certainty? 

"Where's Mum?"

"She's having a sleep," his sister says. "I think a nurse gave her something, and she's gone to bed at last. They let her and Nana have a visitor room. Dad and I have been sleeping on chairs."

"That sounds awful," Julian says.

"It's all been pretty horrid, yeah," his sister says matter-of-factly.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's taken Nana home," she replies. "I expect he'll be back with another lot of family soon – the hospital didn't want too many people, and it's just been us so far."

"Yeah, we're the hardcore of the gang," Julian jokes awkwardly. "That's the word on the street."

His sister says mockingly, "Word on the street? Who are you? T-Bone Wilson?"

Julian gives a little huff of a laugh, and says, "Hey, I introduced you to T-Bone Wilson. You can't use him against me."

"Yeah, well, Dad introduced you," his sister says. "You know, Dad brought Blue Train with him, and kept playing it and playing it, hoping John Coltrane would wake you up."

"Did it work?"

"No, you just seemed to wake up on your own while we were all looking the other way."

There is a pause, and then Julian says, "Um, so how long was I out for?"

"They told us six hours was the maximum you could be in a coma without sustaining brain damage," his sister says evenly. "You were in one for two days."

"Shit."

"By the time someone managed to phone us, you'd already been in a coma for a couple of hours," she continues. "It's a four hour drive, so ... well, they told us to prepare for the worst."

"My God."

"You were clinically dead for ten minutes at one point," his sister says. "The doctors started sort of asking about switching off your life support. Mum went mental at them."

"I can imagine," says Julian with a wince.

"Can you?" his sister asks waspishly.

"No, no. Sorry. I wasn't there, you were," Julian says quickly.

"They ... let all of us in at once to see you," his sister says. "You know, to say goodbye. But then something beeped or stopped beeping, and nurses rushed in, and they sent us all out again."

"Bloody hell." Something shivers in Julian's mind, a ripple of unease.

"You started waking up a bit yesterday, but you were in and out. You were saying all kinds of stuff that didn't make sense, and getting worked up. It was pretty scary."

"Sorry," Julian says again. "So, I've been here four days?"

His sister nods.

"Um, can I ask ... what happened?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No."

"Well, as far as we can work out, you got pissed and fell in the lake like a complete twit," his sister says. "But someone must've rescued you."

"What do you mean, someone?" Julian asks. "Don't you know?"

His sister shakes her head. "They said someone brought you to the hospital. He was dripping wet, like he'd jumped in to save you. He said his name was Greg, but nobody knows if that's his first name, or his surname. You know, Gregg, like the bakery."

"What, a ... a student?"

"The hospital don't know. He said he'd put your jacket on you, and wrapped you in your coat. But he sort of disappeared while everyone was rushing around in a panic."

"That's weird," Julian says. 

He knows he should be grateful for his rescue, but there's something violating about a stranger handling his unconscious body, and then vanishing into the night. It's downright creepy, in fact, and makes him feel slightly sick.

"Don't you remember anything at all?" his sister asks curiously.

Julian thinks for a moment, and says haltingly, "The last thing I remember is going to see my tutor. That was Thursday afternoon."

"That's nearly a week ago!" his sister exclaims. "Nothing between then and now?"

"No," Julian says, before asking, "Er, is the reason I can't remember because I've got brain damage?"

"Yeah, so no change there," his sister teases, before suddenly sounding fierce as she says, "Don't ever put us through something like this again, Ju. I'm serious."

Her voice cracks on the final word. Julian can't hold out his arms, but he moves slightly towards her and says, "Hey, hey. I promise I won't. Okay?"

She lies on the bed and leans gently into his shoulder, careful not to put her weight on him. "Well don't, because I couldn't stand it. You don't know what it's been like."

Random images come unbidden to Julian's mind as he lets his sister hold him. A stained glass window, a sprig of rosemary, polished wood. Smoke and mirrors. Where do the memories come from, and why is each one like prodding gingerly at an open wound?

"You've helped Mum and Dad get through this," Julian says comfortingly. "They're going to realise how much they need you. Far more than they need me."

His sister snorts. "Are you joking? You're the eldest, you're the only boy, and now you're the miracle child who's come back to life."

"Well, you're the youngest, the only girl, and you're the brainy one that's going to uni soon," he counters.

"You're at uni yourself, you numpty," his sister retorts.

"Ah, well. About that," Julian says with some embarrassment. "Um, actually, I dropped out. That's what I was seeing my tutor for."

"Fucking hell," his sister says, half horrified, half impressed. "Well, you'd better stay connected to all these machines then, because when they find out, Mum and Dad are going to kill you."

"I'm not afraid of death," says Julian, lying back with the complacency of someone who knows his parents won't be angry with him at all. "I've been to the Other Side, and there's nothing there."

Then after a pause he adds more cautiously, "At least, nothing I can remember."

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Julian's mother sits watching over him while he sleeps. During the day, she can snatch a few hours rest, knowing that there's a hospital full of people to keep an eye on her son. But in the still of the night, she needs to stand vigil herself in case he slips away in the small hours.

Julian sleeps restlessly most nights. Tonight he babbles long sentences that sound like speech, but are incomprehensible. His mother makes slow soothing sounds between her teeth, as mothers have done to quieten their children for tens of thousands of years.

Then among the muttered nonsense, he says something which stands out clearly. "I'm back, but how do I know he's back?" He repeats it again and again, in different variations.

"Where have you been?" his mother murmurs as she takes his hand. "Where did you go?"

There's more babble, then Julian says in distress, "He could still be at the hotel. He could be a baby. I don't know where he is."

"He's exactly where he needs to be," his mother says firmly. "Do you hear me? Wherever he is, he's safe and well, I promise you. Now, let the dreams go. Let them be."

Julian gradually quietens. He lets go of the dreams, and falls into a deep and healing sleep at last.

END OF PART ONE