“What is past is prologue.”

Prologue

The ticking of the aged Grandfather clock had been going almost unheard for a full year. Nobody but her ever paid any attention to the constant gentle swinging of the pendulum and soft whirring of the mechanism. The moving parts in perpetual motion that had been kept alive in much the same way that the man in the bed on the other side of the room had been, by the careful hands of one the two attendant nurses.  She had kept the man topped up with the pain killers prescribed by the doctor; she had cleaned him every day and shaved the greying stubble that poked out through his death coloured skin diligently every day. She kept up his appearance in much the same way she kept up the appearance of normality, the rigid straight lines on her nurse’s uniform were creased perfectly and she looked respectable, even if she was hungrier and mentally exhausted than she ever thought she could be.