Rosalind Stopps - Hello, My Name is May

ROSALIND STOPPShas always wanted to tell the stories of the less heard. For many years she worked with children with disabilities and their families.

She has five grown up children, three grandchildren and an MA in creative writing from Lancaster University. Rosalind’s short stories have been published in five anthologies and read at live literature events in London, Leeds, Hong Kong and New York. She lives in South East London with large numbers of humans and dogs.

When she is not writing fiction she is, mostly, reading it or working as a host at London’s South Bank Arts Centre. Hello, My Name is May is her debut novel.

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright © Rosalind Stopps 2019

Rosalind Stopps asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008302580

For Dom and Tom, with love.

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

September 2017

Lewisham

I could hear the words in my head but they wouldn’t come out.

I’m fine, I wanted to say, you can leave me here, I’ll be OK. It was the blood, that was all, I could smell blood, and I’ve always hated that. I wanted to explain to them. It makes me feel funny, but not funny ha ha, I would have said but they’ve got no sense of humour, young people. I didn’t like the way the man was looking at me. I’m not just a stupid old woman, I tried to say. I may not have been speaking very clearly but there was no need for him to look at me like that. I tried to tell him, don’t look at me like that, young man. I wanted to say it in quite a stern way but my mouth was doing that thing again of not working properly, as though I was drunk or I’d had something nasty done at the dentist. All that came out was a slur of s’s and some spit. I noticed he didn’t like the spit much, ambulance man or no ambulance man, he didn’t like that at all. I’d say he flinched, leaned back a bit, but he couldn’t go far because he was kneeling next to me on the floor.

It made me laugh that, him kneeling, it’s not a thing you see much. Reminds me of going to church when I was a kid, I tried to say, but the spitty thing was still going on. Try to relax, he said to me, try and calm down, deep breaths, we’ll get you sorted. I gave up on talking, tried to roll my eyes instead but of course that made him call his colleague over, the young woman with the thick ankles. She was wearing a skirt and I was surprised at that. I’m sure they’re allowed to wear trousers these days and if I was her I would have done. Cover up those ankles. I might have rolled my eyes again. They probably thought I was dying or something, because it was all rushing around after the eye rolling, no more of the calm down stuff, just lobbing me onto a stretcher like I was already gone and couldn’t feel anything. At least I was wearing trousers, I thought, and it made me laugh. It felt like a laugh inside. I don’t know what it looked like on the outside.

I might have gone to sleep for a moment or two after that. I’m surprised I was tired because I’d been doing nothing but lie around on the floor resting since I fell. I didn’t know how long I had been there but it must have been quite a while. Someone told me later I’d been there for two whole days and two nights. I’m not sure if that’s right or if it’s just another one of the things they say to old people to keep them in order. I’m still thinking about that one. I certainly remember watching the clock on the wall and thinking that it was going slowly, and that I might need to wind it up or put a new battery in it. I couldn’t remember which. And I can remember hearing someone push something through the letterbox. It was probably only a flyer for some kind of pizza place or a nail parlour but I tried to shout. I thought it was just a fall, you see, I’ve got big feet, clown feet I’ve been told, plus I’ve always been rather clumsy so I thought I had just fallen over the coffee table. I was wedged in between the coffee table and the sofa and the smell of blood was horrible. Turned out I’d only bashed my head a bit, no stitches needed, but at the time it smelt like an abattoir and that’s what I mainly remember.

Two days. I nodded like I agreed with them but two days, honest. I’m not sure about that. I’m going to ask some of the others when I can, I’m going to ask them how long they lay on the floor for if they had a stroke, and if just one of them says, two days, it will be obvious that it’s something they say to everyone, the two days thing, a big old lie. I’ve caught them telling lies a couple of times so I won’t be at all surprised.

I don’t remember much about the ambulance journey. There’s the smell, I remember that, the blood from the cut on my head, and another smell, a dirty smell that showed up in the ambulance. Maybe it was a smell from the person who had used the ambulance before me. They needed to work on that, clean it up a bit better. I’m sure the smell couldn’t have been coming from me. Who smelt it, dealt it, that’s what they used to say in the shop I worked in when I was a student. It reminded me of the day one of the boys in packing brought a stink bomb in during stocktaking. It brought tears to our eyes, but none of us girls said a word, in case we got teased.

I didn’t say anything in the ambulance. I just went to sleep and the next thing I knew, the young man who had been kneeling by me and the well-meaning woman with the thick ankles, they’d gone. It would have been nice if they had said goodbye or cheerio or something so that I’d known they were going. I’d got used to them being there and I felt lonely without them. They should have said something but they didn’t, or they didn’t do it loudly enough, so when I woke up there was a different woman. She had a badge on that said, ‘hello, my name is Agnita’.