London, 1928

Every day Alfie spent with you was precious, aside from the obvious reason why, he treated every minute with you as if it was his last, showering you with praise and love and gratitude, for he knew you were already on borrowed time thanks to the doctors.

He'd met you through his mother, he'd never known another version of you other than the one lying weak and frail in your hospital bed, which he quickly saw upgraded as he told you something along the lines of "got to surround you with the finery befitting you treacle, let an old man look after you yeah?"

It was an odd courting period, on top of all of Alfie's eccentricities. He quickly realised on his own that he couldn't take you dancing, couldn't take you out for the night, to the theatre, the movies, the opera, anything, so he spoiled you in other ways.

He hired a painter to capture the view of the Thames at sunrise, something you'd always wanted to see, brought another artist to the hospital with him so Alfie could sit with you for a portrait, that was when you knew he was in love and not just treating you nicely for the sake of pity.

Photographers, artists, musicians, mountains of books and records alike to keep you entertained and occupied.

Even on your worst days Alfie was there, he'd hold your hair back if you needed to be sick, not shying away from any blood or bile, knowing you needed a steady hand in your moments of weakness. Afterwards he'd always be there, despite your protests.

"Now, now zeeskeit," an old Yiddish word meaning sweetness, "none of that nonsense. My dove, my little angel, you listen to your old man eh? Just close your eyes, the sun's goin' down yeah? You rest your head now treacle, that's it, I'm right here, Alfie's got ya, nothing'll get ya while you're in my arms, 'cept what's already eatin' you alive, but that works at its own pace dunnit? A different thing entirely is your sickness, my dove. So you hold on for me yeah? Just you settle down for me and be still, even if just for tonight, I'll keep you."