fiction Beta Mum on 09 Mar 2007 01:18 pm
Ivy
“What do I want with a load of old bellows? If you think they’re so interesting, you can keep them.”
“Thank you Ivy. No need to throw. Do you remember what they were used for?”
“Course I remember, they’re for whatname aren’t they?”
Course I remember. I was holding some when I walked out on my first job. Snooty madam told me I was laying the fire all wrong. Do it yourself then, I yelled, threw down the bloody bellows and walked out. Just like that.
“So what did you use them for?”
“We didn’t pump up our bicycle tyres with them did we? They’re to blow on the fire. Nobody does that now, they’ve all got gas.”
She’s a strange one, says she’s not a nurse, but keeps staring at me, leaning on her elbows looking right through me as if she wants something. And she keeps on dragging old kitchen stuff out from behind a damn great screen in the corner. I can see an old carpet sweeper, the kind you push up and down. They’re too bone idle for that these days. Got to have something they can plug in.
“That’s right Ivy, what about this?”
There she goes again, fussing with her frock. What does she want to wear a white frock to work for anyway? Just asking for extra washing.
“Have you ever seen one of these before?”
“Bert got his fingers stuck in one when we were kids. Mum had to call the doctor. She didn’t half give him a walloping after, didn’t like having to cough up for the quack. She used to do the washing then wind it through that thing, it’s a whatname, you know, for drying the sheets. We didn’t have bri-nylon in those days you know.”
She’s not so bad, this nurse who says she’s not a nurse. She’s listening like she wants to learn.
“Course, Bert’s dead now. His liver. Serve him right if you ask me.”
“Hang on a minute Ivy, there’s someone at the door.”
Typical. You got nothing to say, you get all day to do it. When you’ve just got into your stride, some silly sod pokes his head round the door. Looks like a doctor, either that or a butcher. Coat looks too white for a butcher though.
“Sorry to interrupt Mandy, I’ve got a couple more recruits.”
“Come on in doctor.”
She’s called Mandy is she? Well she’s taken her elbows off the table pretty sharpish. Very keen to fuss about with extra chairs and simper at the doctor. We all know her game. Get a cushy job carrying old kitchen stuff about, marry a doctor, settle down in a nice semi in Southsea, and Bob’s your uncle. Just look at those two he’s brought in with him. That old shuffler looks like he’d fall over if he wasn’t hanging on for grim death. Eyes like a bloodhound, dripping red and droopy, and that hanky wants a good wash.
“Just sit them here doctor.”
“This is Frank, and Margaret.”
Another hopeless article. Mandy’s not going to have time for me and Bert and the mangle with these two to watch out for, is she?
“We’re having a chat about times past, aren’t we Ivy? Now, shall we tell each other our names? I’m Mandy, this is Ivy, and you’re Margaret?”
She doesn’t answer, so I do it for her. “It’ll be Christmas before that one says anything, probably doesn’t even know her own name, crackers she is.”
I reckon the bellows might knock some sense into her, so I grab them, lean across the table and thump them down in front of her.
“Ivy, please, you’re frightening Margaret. Frank, would you like to have a look at these?”
And the silly girl hands them to him. Course he hasn’t got the sense he was born with, sucks on the narrow end and gives the business end a couple of squeezes before she can get them back off him. I can see her fingers twitching. She probably wants to give him a good clout. I know I do.
“Shall we break for a cup of tea? I’ll ask for some to be brought in, shall I?” And she’s up and out of the door in a flash. She’s had enough of these other two and I don’t blame her. The silly beggars have ruined our nice little talk, just the two of us, Mandy all ears at my bit of chat about times past. And where’s the kid? She said she’d go and pay the bill, but she hasn’t come back. And there’s still no food. It’s a bloody silly restaurant if it can only manage a cup of tea. I’ll have to tell her not to bring me here again.
“Where’s Caroline?” I stand up and the chair tips over on the floor behind me. “She’s left me behind.”
I push past the stupid chair and bump into Margaret. She’s shifting from one foot to the other, staring at the floor as if she can see half a crown but can’t figure out how to pick it up.
“Move yourself, you daft beggar.” I give the bent up old fidget a bit of a shove, and the papery body just folds up and floats down to the carpet like a piece of confetti.
“Get up you silly…. “ but I can’t reach the right word. I know what I want to say, but it won’t get as far as my tongue. It’s stuck somewhere between my head and my mouth, “… just move yourself will you?”
I push through piles of chairs and bellows and mangles to get past the woman lying on the floor, and her hands flutter up in front of her silly face. So I give her a sharp kick in the leg. The curled up old scraping doesn’t even yell, just lies there, staring at her hands as if she’d smacked herself in the leg without realising it.
Caroline used to be like that. You’d hit her, and she’d stare with those stubborn blue eyes that screamed silently at you. So you’d hit her again, harder, and she wouldn’t even wince. That girl wasn’t normal. I always said to Jim, that girl’s not normal. He just said to leave her alone. That was his answer to everything, leave it alone, sounded like flaming Bo Beep.
I look down at my feet. There’s something in my way. The rocking woman who muscled in on my little chat with Mandy, who’s refusing to yell, just like Caroline. I watch as a foot makes contact with the woman’s head. My foot. I’m kicking her, again, and again.
At least she’s yelling now, long and loud. Maybe she is normal after all, or maybe Jim was right and I should just leave her alone, not force her to eat the same dinner night after night until she finishes every damn mouthful. There’s just been a war on for god’s sake.
I feel a gentle rubbing at my arm. It’s the old geezer with bloodhound eyes, wiping me with his filthy hanky. I dig him sharp in the ribs with my elbow, and he falls hard against the table just as the door opens and the room fills with white coats.
“Stop that, right now.”
That’s right, stop it. Stop rubbing at me with your grubby hanky you old misery. One of them grabs me, but ignores him, the one who attacked me with the filthy hanky, leaves her, the one lying on the floor thrashing like a mad woman.
“Ivy, no.” Mandy’s here now too, her face shoved right up close. It looks wet, like she’s been out in the rain looking for the teapot.
“Get off me, where’s the kid? I want my tea, and make sure you put in one for the pot while you’re at it.” I try to shake them off, but there are too many of them.
“Come with me Ivy, it’s time for a rest.” It’s that doctor, the one who spoiled my chat with Mandy. “Just hold your arm out for a moment. It won’t hurt.” And he sticks me with a needle.
“Of course it bloody hurts. It’s her you want to stick a needle in. She’s a bloody thief, a tea leaf, she took my tea.”
“We’ll get you some tea in your room, you can have a nice sit down.”
I am feeling a bit sleepy. Funny though, it’s bright sunshine outside and I never sleep in the daytime. Must be coming down with something, a cold maybe. That must be what he stuck that thing in for, a flu jab. The kid will be pleased, she’s always on at me to get a flu jab. I’ll tell her when she gets back from paying the bill, no need to worry about the flu jab, I’ve had it now.
This story appeared in Secret Attic
