James Hannah: The A to Z of You and Me

It almost doesn’t matter to me.

That’s how it is.

Out in the corridor the fire doors unstick and thud, and footsteps quietly approach.

Sheila appears at my doorway and peers in to see if I’m awake.

I’m awake.

‘Are you comfortable?’ she murmurs in her twilight voice. ‘Do you need anything?’

‘I’m awake,’ I say. ‘I’d rather be asleep.’

‘Oh, well, I’m sure I could get you something — I’ll just have to take a quick squint at your notes.’

‘No, no, it’s all right,’ I say with a sigh. ‘You can probably ignore me. I’m being grumpy.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ she says, charitably. ‘It’s enough to make anyone grumpy, having that light come on all the time.’

‘I thought they’d fixed it.’

Uuuuuh

‘Useless, aren’t they?’ She pads over to the window and looks outside.

‘Unless it’s someone setting them off for a laugh. Kids, like.’

‘That’s what worries me a bit,’ she says. ‘There’s rich pickings in the store cupboards. Medication, needles. Some people will do anything to get their hands on that stuff.’

Uuuuuh

‘Oh, hark at her, eh? You could set your watch by her, couldn’t you?’

‘It’s the same every night. She doesn’t know she’s doing it, does she?’

‘Oh, no. It’s only snoring really.’

‘She’s not in any pain?’

‘No, no. But it’s the medication too, you see. That has an effect. Sometimes we can change it, which might ease things.’

Uuuuuh

‘Every time she starts up, it snaps me awake again.’

‘I always think she’s like Old Faithful, you know, comes out with a big burst of noise every hour on the hour.’

‘Is she all right?’

Uuuuuh

‘She’s a very poorly lady, I’m afraid. Very poorly. But she’s a fighter, definitely, bless her. She’s fought every step of the way.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘There are some people you meet who totally restore your faith in the job, you know? She’s one of them. A genuinely lovely lady. Gentle, uncomplaining.’

‘Not like me,’ I say. Half joke.

‘Oh, you’re all right, aren’t you? Keep yourself to yourself.’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

She sits now uninvited in my visitors’ seat. Do I mind? No, I don’t mind. I quite like the presumptuousness. It’s nice when nice people presume I’m nice. It makes me nice.

‘Listen, I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday — that business with the blanket and all.’

I look down at the blanket, which is now installed permanently around my shoulders.

‘No, don’t be,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry. It was a bit unexpected, is all.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Mia,’ I say without thinking — and the shape of the word in my mouth, the sound of it in my ears feels — it feels strange. A sound I used to make every day, many times a day, but which I haven’t for — for years now.

‘Special one, was she?’

‘Yeah. Another person who’d restore your faith. She was a nurse too, actually.’

‘Oh, right? Whereabouts?’

‘All over. She only just got past the training, she worked a short while.’

‘Yeah, so many of them drop out in the early days.’

‘Mm.’

‘What did she want to do in nursing?’

‘She was into getting to the root of things. Alternatives, you know?’

‘Yeah, like um — holistic medicine? Reiki, hypnotherapy, stuff like that.’

‘Yeah. She wanted to work with patients individually, depending on what they needed.’

‘Oo, she’d have her work cut out there. They’re under so much pressure, those departments.’

‘Yeah. Bum-wiping and processing them on, isn’t it?’

‘Bum-wiping if you’re lucky. That’s what I love about working here at the hospice: you get to spend time with people. They come in here and they’re scared, because they don’t know what to expect, and you can really turn them round. You can make a difference when they’d maybe spent their whole lives dreading the name: St Leonard’s .’

‘“Come out feet-first in a box”,’ I say.

‘You see, it’s so bad people say that,’ she says a little agitatedly. ‘It makes me so cross, because it’s not true. We do so many positive things here.’

‘Yeah. Sorry.’

‘Oh, don’t be daft, I’m not having a go at you. So — what happened then, with … Mia, was it?’

‘Oh — didn’t work out.’

‘Tell me she didn’t end up with some consultant.’

‘No, no.’

‘Because they’re real Flash Harries, that lot. They all need bringing down a peg or two.’

‘No, no. It was all my fault. I messed it up.’

She winces, sympathetically. ‘That doesn’t seem like you.’

‘I made a few bad choices. Just — I tried to live up to— I really, badly wanted it to work, but I could just never seem to make it happen. I couldn’t get my act together, and I don’t know why.’

‘Oh, Ivo.’

I smile, ruefully. ‘I’m just an idiot, I think.’

‘Well, my darling, you won’t find anyone judging you here, all right? You know and I know there’s plenty of people between these walls who’ve paid a very heavy price for doing nothing wrong at all. And you can bet there are thousands of people out there on the streets who’ll never pay any price for being total — yeah, Flash Harries. It’s not fair, but there it is. It’s for no one to judge.’

She stands herself up from my chair.

‘Listen, I say this to everyone, but I mean it with you, because you’re one of my specials: if you want to talk about anything, then I’m here for you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Thanks, Sheila.’

‘And if you don’t want to talk about anything, then at least do yourself a favour and keep your thoughts in order. There’s your A to Z game. Or think happy things. Maybe about this ex; if you had happy times together, no one’s stopping you from going away back to them in your mind. It might be helpful, is all I’m saying.’

I draw the sheets up around my middle.

‘I don’t mean to say anything untoward,’ she says.

‘No, no. Not at all.’

‘It might help is all.’ She sighs and scratches her arm a moment. ‘Anyway, sounds like Old Faithful’s gone off the boil again. So give me a buzz if you want anything.’

‘Will do. Thanks.’

She pads away down the corridor, and as I hear the double doors slip shut behind her the security light flicks off once more.

It’s been lovely to talk about you with someone who understands.

It’s been lovely to feel strong enough to think about you at all.

Chesticles

‘CHESTICLES?’ YOU SAY.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Becca used to say it.’

It’s the joy in your face that takes me by surprise, and then your infectious and unfettered laugh.

‘Oh that’s lovely!’ you say. ‘And I suppose Becca ought to know. You wait, I’m going to use that all the time .’

I can’t remember the last time I heard anyone laugh so delightedly. And so delightedly at me.

I’m surprised.

I don’t know what to do. I sort of shrug modestly that I thought to say it.

It’s nice .

It’s the little details that get to me.

‘If I had a million quid, I’d totally get a boob job,’ says Laura.