St Bartholomew's Hospital, London, 1929

"My darling.. you must listen to me alright? Can't let you forget me.. can't find it in my chest to let that happen." Alfie whispered.

He clutched your hand between both of his as he sat by your bedside, the doctor had encouraged him to speak with you, even though you weren't conscious. "Sleeping sickness," the doctor had called it...

"I do love you, alright?" Alfie said, the cool bands of brass that adorned his fingers glancing off your warm skin, "I do love you, and I know you're in there my sweetheart, I can tell see?" he turned your hand over and pressed his thumb into the centre of your palm, making your fingers involuntarily curl.

"See? If you was dead, proper dead you wouldn't do that," he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than anything.

"You wouldn't leave me alone would you? Nah.. nah you wouldn't do that, you're too sweet.. too good to leave me here all on my tod.. ain't ya?" he snickered, bitter at the fate that had befallen you.

He'd always imagined it would be him that went first, due to the nature of his business and dealings he always presumed, no, expected he'd die first out of the two of you. Though you weren't dead yet, just asleep.. a deep, deep sleep from which it was getting harder and harder to retrieve you.

"Maybe I'll bring the paper or something.. one of your fancy books from home eh? You'd like that?" Alfie said, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, absentmindedly finding the pulse in your wrist.

"I need to change your bedclothes.." he sneered, "these.. these aren't good enough for you my darling, simply not." he groused, plucking at the thin sterile cotton you lay upon.

"And I'll bring some better nightclothes for you, dove.." he said softly, his hand on the sleeve of the clinical gown you had been put in by the nurses.

"Something nice.. something more comfortable.. you look too.. too still in this.. you don't look like you.. you don't look alive.." he whispered.

"They'll be hard pushed to kick me out at closing time my dove.." he muttered, "I hate leaving you alone.. especially at night.. I know you hate it.. sleeping alone, the dark, the quiet.. never did like it didja?" he mused as he placed his wide brimmed hat upon his head, buttoning his coat as he stood.

"Farewell my darling dove," he kissed a bristly kiss to your knuckles.

"Until tomorrow, and I promise I'll bring you all of your favourite things.. maybe a record or two yeah?"

Silence. Nought but your breathing as he waited in vain for your response.

Alfie sighed softly, leaning down to press his usual sequence of kisses to your forehead, eyelids, cheeks and lips.

"Be good darling," he whispered.