It started just like any other day.
She got up at five, scrubbed her face and brushed her teeth, ate her usual bowl of rolled oats with sliced bananas and 1 percent milk. She dressed in her navy blue uniform, pulled her mousy brown hair back into a tight bun, put on the same coat she’d had since her mother died in 1975, picked up her black purse, the only purse she owned, locked the front door – checked it twice – and headed off for the bus. And just as she always did, she looked at her watch. And, as usual, it was exactly 5.45 a.m.
She’d been taking the same route to work for more than 10 years.The number 302 bus from the corner of King Street West and Wilson Park Road to Dundas West subway station, the train to Coxwell station and then a 10-minute walk from the station to the Michael Garron Hospital. She’d worked there since it was known as the East General.
It was a long trip so early in the morning and Amy had once applied for work at St. Joseph’s Hospital, which was closer to where she lived, but she did not get the job. She had thought of moving closer to the east end of the city but the rooming house she lived in on King Street was clean and comfortable and she knew she was fortunate to have such a place for reasonable rent.
Amy was a day-shift housekeeper in the emergency department. She stripped beds, changed linens, swept and vacuumed, cleaned bathrooms and restocked supplies such as toilet paper, hand soap and hand sanitizer.
She had almost no contact with the patients. And, as far as she was concerned, that was how she wanted it.
As she turned into the lobby of Emergency, she took a deep breath. She loved that hospital smell. The way the scrupulously clean scent of disinfectant mixed with the people smells of perfumes and deodorants, vomit and body odour. And wafting over it all was the sense of tension and nervousness and urgency.
She noticed the bad-tempered man from yesterday was still lying on a gurney causing a huge fuss and demanding they let him leave.
“You don’t let me out of here right now, I will damn well jump right off of this cart that you call a bed.”
“Nurse, you better do something about this situation.”
When he saw Amy, he recognized her from the day before and called out, “Hey, cleaner girl, can you come over here and give me a clean blanket and pillow. These people don’t give a rat’s arse. It’s a wonder we don’t all die in here. It’s worse than the shelter on Jarvis,” he shouted loud enough for the entire emergency department to hear.
“I like you, cleaner girl, ‘cos at least you’re doing your best to keep the germs away. I seen you yesterday, the way you scrub everything twice.”
Amy glanced up at the nursing station; she didn’t know what to do as she wasn’t meant to talk to patients. The nurse gave her a nod and pointed to the linen cupboard suggesting that Amy change his blanket and pillow as he was asking.
“My name’s Timothy”, he said. “My father’s name was Timothy and my father’s, father’s name was Timothy and my father’s, father’s, father’s name was Timothy. I don’t like it when people call me Tim.”
Amy said, mainly because she didn’t know what else to say. “I’m Amy and my mother was Jean and my mother’s mother was Ruby. I don’t know what my mother’s, mother’s, mother’s name was.”
Timothy laughed. “You are a one,” he said. “Thank you for your kindness. And what is your last name, for I would like to be able to formally address you.”
“It’s Amy Jackson. But I must go now. I am not to talk to the patients. But I trust you will be better soon and you have a nice day.”
“Well thank you kindly, Miss Jackson,” said Timothy.
And so, Amy went about her work — stripping beds, changing linen, and cleaning toilets. She didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of her shift.
The next day when Amy arrived at work Timothy was gone. She guessed he’d been moved to a ward or, she thought, maybe he had escaped.
On the Monday of the third week after her encounter with Timothy, she was called to the administrator’s office. She’d never been there before. It made her nervous, especially as there were two strange men in the office. Amy’s heart began to beat really fast. “What have I done wrong?” she thought.
“Amy,” said the administrator, “please take a seat.”
She stood as if glued to the ground. She couldn’t find her voice, she stared at the administrator. It was strange the only thing she could think was that the floor in this office desperately needed a good cleaning.
“Sit down Amy,” repeated one of the men. “My name is Stephen McGregor, I am one of the hospital lawyers. This is Mr. Thompson from Thompson, Thompson and Thompson.
“It has come to my attention,” said Mr. McGregor, “that you were very kind to a man called Timothy. A man who appears to have lived on the streets. “
“Yes sir,” said Amy “I remember him, he was in Emergency two or three weeks ago and I gave him a clean pillow and blanket.”
Mr. Thompson stood up, he held a sheet of lined paper, “I would like to read you this note,” he said.
And he began to read.
”This is the last will and testament of Timothy Ferguson, the fourth. I leave all that has been left to me to Miss Amy Jackson, the only person since I was a young boy to treat me with kindness, and who made sure I had a clean pillow and blanket.”
“Amy,” said Mr. Thompson, “before I go on, I should tell you that the Timothy you were kind to was the great, great-grandson of the founder of Ferguson’s Department Store. This is a lot of money that he has bequeathed to you.
Amy’s face turned ashen. She began to shake, her eyes flickered, and then she fainted.
