He said, 'So now I know, Raysy,'
It was a full day and a half after the operation that wasn't no operation, so he wasn't groggy and slow and confused any more. Sharp and clear as I've ever seen him, sitting up there in that little white smock thing, with the extra tubes going in, some round the back now. It seemed like every day they rigged up another tube. But there were others in there that were all tubes, tubes and wires and bottles and apparatus, complete chemistry sets. So you had to look close to see if there was really a human life, a human component still there somewhere.
But he was sitting up, straight and steady. I thought, It's like he's having his portrait done, his last portrait, no flattering, no prettying, and no one knows how long it will take. Two weeks, three. Nothing, to do but sit still and be who you are, I don't know what you say to someone when they say that they know. I reckon the imagination's a million miles from the fact. So I looked down at the bedclothes and up at him again and he was still looking at me, straight and steady, straight into my eyes, like if he could get a grip then I should, like he aint stopped being himself, just because. On the contrary.
He says, 'No telling, is there?' Then he says, 'Lambs to the slaughter, eh Lucky.'