‘Well, there’s nothing down here,’ retorted the woman with the trolley.
‘Nobody asked me,’ I explained feebly.
She banged the plate back on the trolley. ‘There probably won’t be any left now,’ she complained.
Well, it’s not my fault, fuckface.
A few minutes later, a new plate was slammed down on my tray. The same yellowing potato accompanied now by a watery cauliflower cheese. The cauliflower had disintegrated into a grainy puree and the sauce had a sharp, sick smell. I was hungry but the smell made me gyp. As soon as she was out of sight, I put the tray on my locker and curled up under the covers.
Early afternoon. Ray came, bearing some wholemeal bread, fresh cheese and a bowl of three-bean salad glistening in its dressing. Plus a carton of freshly squeezed orange juice. Heaven.
‘You didn’t bring Maddie.’
‘At school. I thought it’d be best to carry on as normal.’
I bit off some bread. ‘What did you tell them?’
‘That you tripped and banged into a wall.’
‘That old favourite.’
‘And I told my mum you were mugged. You okay? Looks nasty.’
‘It hurts. These are really sore,’ I pointed to my cheek and my ear, ‘and I’ve three broken ribs.’
He nodded. ‘We came down last night but you were out of it.’
‘I don’t remember much about last night.’
‘So what really happened?’
As I told Ray the sequence of events, I found myself getting angry, outraged at the injustice of it.
‘The fucking bastard, he rings me up, issues threats, so I do what he says. I don’t go near and what happens – he still does me over.’
‘But it wasn’t him – this Smiley bloke?’
‘Not in person, no. But I bet he set those goons on me, without even giving me a chance to do what he wants.’ I was getting aerated; the people at neighbouring beds began to cast glances my way.
‘You must report it, Sal.’
‘I have.’ Injured tone. ‘I gave a statement this morning.’ I concentrated on the salad for a while. Then I asked Ray to bring Maddie in for visiting that evening.
‘But you’re coming home, aren’t you? That’s what the nurse just told me.’
‘No, they said they wanted to keep me in another night.’
‘Hang on.’ Ray walked down to the nurses’ station and came back with one of the nurses I didn’t know.
‘I thought I was staying in,’ I began.
‘Well, as there’s been no complications, Doctor’s happy for you to be discharged this afternoon.’
‘When was that decided?’ I asked. I was puzzled at the sudden change.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I’ve just come on shift. But if a patient’s doing well enough, doesn’t require any special treatment…’
Light dawned. ‘You need the bed, don’t you?’
She avoided the question. ‘If there’s any concern, you just ring in. And you’ll have your out-patient’s appointment next week. Excuse me.’ She smiled brightly and escaped.
‘Don’t tell me you want to stay here.’ Ray was appalled.
I shrugged. ‘At least someone else does the sheets and clears the rubbish up. Oh, shit.’
‘What?’
‘Can you ring Nina Zaleski for me? The number’s in the address bit of my diary, in my bag.’ Suddenly, I was confused. Where was my bag? ‘I don’t know where my bag is, Ray, I didn’t take it to Diane’s.’
‘Calm down, I’ll find it. So, I ring this woman and say…
‘I left some rubbish at the side of her house. Tell her not to chuck it, I want to go through it.’
Ray had a peculiar look on his face. I laughed, then gasped as the stitches tugged round my cheekbone.
Ray would come back for me at five. I told him where to find my clothes.
‘My mum’s offered to help out for a couple of days.’
‘Oh.’ My stomach dipped with disappointment.
‘She means well,’ he said.
Maybe. Well, the kids would enjoy it and Clive would go all smarmy.
‘The meeting, last night, Clive…’
‘He didn’t show.’
‘What?’ I didn’t even get the satisfaction of having stood him up. ‘This isn’t on, Ray. We should just give him notice.’
‘And lose all the money he owes?’
‘You think he’s going to pay?’
‘Yeah, he bloody well is.’
I shook my head. ‘No chance. He’s up to his eyes in debt. Where’s he going to get that sort of money from? We should just cut our losses.’
‘No way.’ Ray was getting steamed up, the skin round his lower lip white and taut.
‘Ray, he isn’t worth it. ‘I put my hand on his forearm. ‘He’s a little shit and I don’t want to waste any more emotional energy dealing with him.’
‘Where are we going to find eight hundred pounds?’
‘It’s not that much.’
‘It is. Six hundred pounds rent, the rest in bills – more, if you include this quarter’s.’
‘Oh God, not now.’ I held up my hands.
‘Okay.’ Ray pushed back his chair and picked up the empty salad bowl. Told me he’d be back about five.
I wanted a shower and asked for a fresh robe. There wasn’t one. The nurse managed to dig out two hand towels, stiff with months of boil-washing. I shuffled to the bathroom, feeling unsteady on my feet. My weak ankle had returned to normal size. I guess it couldn’t keep up with the competition.
I surveyed my face dispassionately. The inch-long cut on my cheek, with its neat black stitching, looked ugly but I’d been told the scar would be very faint. There was bruising around both my eyes and the left one still had its maze of red spidery threads and small clots across most of the white. I couldn’t see my ear, which had been torn and stitched. The hair around there was harsh with dried blood and dirt.
I undressed and it was then that I caught a glimpse of my body, reflected from the full length mirror and back into the one above the basin. Bruises; huge savage purple and yellow mottles on my thigh, above my buttocks. Looking down, another the size of a saucer below my breast. I looked away.
In the cubicle, I turned the shower on full, hot as I could bear it. Under cover of the streaming, steaming water, I gave in to the pressure that had been swelling like a balloon in my chest. With my fists balled, I mouthed all those age-old clichés, railing against my pain, my outrage and sorrow. Over and over again. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, you bastard, you bastard, you fucking bastard, it’s not fair.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
With an unusual sensitivity, Maddie treated me with great love and attention on my return. It wasn’t just in the way she was physically careful, sitting beside me rather than clambering on my lap, but also in the quick glances I noticed, where she seemed to be checking I was still okay. Her solicitude made me feel all teary.
I’d no energy and I was tucked up and sleeping before nightfall. When I finally hauled myself out of bed, eyes wincing at the harsh daylight, I was perversely pleased at the way my body ached. If I was physically in pain, it didn’t leave as much space for worrying about the deeper hurts, the anxiety and fear below the surface.
Downstairs, the house was a tip. At least Nana Tello and I didn’t compete over housework. She loathed cleaning. I’d no need to worry about sticky shelves and a smelly fridge.
I had tea and toast while she talked about the crime wave, about the Ordsall riots, the Moss Side shootings. She went through all the acquaintances she had who’d ever been mugged or burgled. She blamed the parents, she blamed the teachers, she blamed godlessness and the lack of National Service. She never mentioned poverty or inequality. Then she began to lecture me about not looking after myself, out at all times of the day and night, these places…
‘It was broad daylight. I was walking a few yards from my car to Diane’s door – what should I have done?’ I demanded.
‘Well…’ She was stuck for an answer. Her eyes shifted about, looking for a safer topic. ‘Clive’s a nice boy, you lucky to get a lodger like that.’