THE O.K. MAN.

They called Michael “the o.k. man” because he seemed able to solve everyone’s problems but who was there for him when his problems came about?

Michael was the kindest little boy in his school. Always he would collect up the pencils, toys and books at the end of the day. When any little children fell over he’d be the one to go and tell the teacher. His mother said he was so sensitive he should have been a girl. He never thought this was a silly or uncomplimentary thing to say as he rather liked the idea of being like a girl in that they were always portrayed as kind and caring and that’s what he was. He didn’t imagine himself as a train driver or a soldier when he grew up. Instead he imagined himself as a nurse or a doctor. He’d be too emotional some said and others said he’d never get all the qualifications needed but they were wrong.

All through his senior school and onto university and college – Michael still retained his caring nature and when the big boys and young men used to tease him for not wanting to go out and swill pints and get laid he just said: “The sign of a real man is just how much he will do for his neighbour without wanting something in return or without counting the cost to oneself”. Every time anyone needed anything doing he’d just say: “O.k. O.k. Leave it to me” and whatever was needed he would do. It was like magic having Michael around. If someone needed their car washing, their dog looking after, their kids picking up from school, he was your man. He even unblocked Mrs. Singh’s drains for her once.

I first met Michael when I was waiting for my train. He was waiting for his too. His elderly mother had been taken poorly and he was off to visit her. He kindly helped me into my carriage after insisting he carry my cases for me. He made sure I got a comfortable seat and chatted to me all the way from our starting point - Platform 1 of our local station - All the way to Stockport. I wasn’t a bit surprised to hear he’d qualified as a doctor. I was surprised at his love of “footy” as my brother always called it. He was mad on it and supported his local team and tried not to miss any of their games. Now me, I hate it. I’d much rather curl up with a good book. However I listened politely while he went on about “the beautiful game” and hoped I didn’t look too bored. Our train soon arrived and we got out. He saw me into my taxi and went off to see his mum.

Lizzie’s kitchen was always cosy. I loved visiting her. We’d not met since we’d left college. She’d married and now had two gorgeous kids. She seemed a bit frazzled though. All it was as it turned out, was because she’d not been getting much sleep. The second one was always a bit of a bad sleeper and even now at the age of five he still kept her up nights. I told her in no uncertain terms that what she needed was a holiday but she said how could she manage that what with Ben’s job and everything? Besides that she had nowhere to go. Then I reminded her about my mum’s guesthouse. “I can’t stay there”! She said: “Your mum’s lovely but she’d never let me pay my way and I’m not having charity”. I told her that I would happily go there with her. I hated holidaying on my own and although seeing Lizzie was like a holiday it wasn’t the same as being spoiled by your mum at the seaside. Both of us were agreed on that. “It won’t be much of a holiday with the kids in tow”, she commented. “Nonsense”! I said. “If we go off season like it is in another two months or will be, mum will happily play with them. She’ll get onto me again about why I haven’t married and blessed her with grandchildren – Even suggesting I can suspend the wedding bit if I like she’s that desperate for them – So playing with yours will be a good opening into the same old conversation we’ve been having for the last few years”. Lizzie laughed and said she’d talk to Ben about it.

Ben seemed happy enough to wave us all off when Lizzie and the kids came back with me. I think he relished the peace and quiet he was going to have. Mum was delighted to see Lizzie, her two kids and her Labrador. Then there was me with no kids and my Labrador. The dogs chased each other in and out of the sea and it was there that Timmy and Stuart learned to swim. Stuart seemed to have forgotten his aches and pains while he was here. He was sleeping better too and we concluded that it was the sea air. There weren’t many visitors to mum’s now that the peak period was over and the weather was turning slightly chillier. This meant we had time for shopping trips and Lizzie and I indulged our penchant for new clothes. “Ben’ll have a fit when he hears how much I’ve spent”, she said, remembering that she was supposed to be poor as well as happy. I just said to make sure she threw the receipts away. When we got back to the guest house, a man was there asking if mum had any spare rooms. She said she did and I thought something about his voice was familiar. He was about to speak to me when a distressed woman appeared saying that two little children had got into trouble down by the water’s edge. She was the only remaining guest with children, who as yet hadn’t returned home in order for them all to get ready to go back to school. We’d left Lizzie’s boys with her and her two girls while we went shopping and it was Timmy and Stuart who were now in trouble in the water. They’d gone out to sea on those lilo things. I’ve never liked them myself, thinking how easy it is to go drifting out to sea on them. We all raced down to the beach and before any of us could do anything, we found that the man who had just booked in was there with us saying: “O.k. o.k. Leave it to me. I’m going in after them. I’m a strong swimmer and I can and will save them”. By now they were little specks, hardly visible and yet terrified all the same. The two little girls were too scared to go in and had run for their mother to tell her what the boys had done. Nobody quite understood how they’d got hold of the lilos but just that now they were way out to sea. Eventually they were brought to safety and treated by the same man who had saved their lives – “The O.K. man” as they called him.

It was after their ordeal was over and I had time to think that I remembered where I’d heard that voice before. The voice belonged to the man who had helped me onto the train to Stockport when I went to visit Lizzie in the first place. Once more I’d met Doctor Michael, the “O.k.” man – The one who always collected up the pencils, solved all the problems of whoever he met and wanted to be a doctor. He now had his own practice and was looking for a receptionist. Mum was saying how now that she was getting on a bit she was finding the guest house a bit too much and on a whim, sold it and moved to where his practice is, saying she’d happily be his receptionist. Lizzie was very put out at this. She’d fallen in love with the place and moaned she’d have nowhere to take the kids to on holiday with or without Ben. She didn’t believe in being fazed by anything and just because Stuart and Tim had almost drowned it didn’t worry her to come back to the same place.

All this happened over thirty years ago now. Sadly my mother died without ever having the grandchildren she wanted and more happily Stuart and Tim have grown up into big strapping men who have produced about five between them for Lizzie. Michael? Well the “O.K.” man has now retired from general practice. He’s not stopped wanting to help people with their problems and - Guess what? I’m here to listen to his because he said: “O.k.” to one more thing – Marrying a blind woman who had a succession of guide dogs who rubbed themselves all over his clean smart suits just before he went off to work or out on his rounds to see his patients. He just took it all in his stride and he’s just been with me to a school where I’ve given a talk to the children about how the dogs are trained. He acted as my chauffeur you understand and at the end of my talk you can guess what he did – Why offered to become a classroom assistant so guess what he’ll be doing at the end of every day? Why collecting up the pencils of course!

(The end).