never done this before, not with each other anyhow. Her face was close to mine, her eyes huge.
“What is it, love?”
“Paulie’s a fool. Not a patch on you, Lovejoy.”
Not exactly the time to say I’d always known he was a pillock. “Oh, well,” I managed.
“Please. I want you to help him, Lovejoy. Is it too much to ask, Lovejoy?” She coughed a bit. I tried to cough for her like a fool, holding myself stiff at an awkward angle.
“I don’t know what it is I’m to do. Nobody’s told me anything. Is it this Troude thing, something about silver shipments?”
“Paulie’s in too deep with Troude. He’s so desperate for it to succeed. All it is, they are storing some antiques, for export somewhere. It needs a divvy. Say you will.”
“Maybe,” I said, instinct keeping it so I could escape moral bonds should I want to off out. Gentleman to the last.
“I can’t blame you, Lovejoy. It was all my fault.” She slipped away then a while, came too after an inward struggle. “I’m frightened, Lovejoy. And leaving things in such a mess for Paul makes it worse.”
“I’ll do it, Cissie,” I said. Instinct yelled to steer clear of the phrase at the last second, failed.
She drove it home. “You promise, Lovejoy?”
“Promise, love.”
She sank back with a profound sigh. I was just taking my arms away when the nurse came in to say I had to leave, it was time for Mrs Anstruther to rest.
“Blood transfusion due in ten minutes.”
“Right, right.” I looked at the still figure breathing so shallowly, thinking of her in a plastic tent, the mask going over her face, drips being adjusted. “Bye, Cissie love.”
Her eyelids fluttered. She said nothing. Paul came. And Almira, who said she wanted to say goodbye to Cissie. She was in tears. Paul was silent. I went along the corridor and watched the night outside with its strings of lights along distant roads through the darkness. It had come on to rain.
The way out was hard to find. I managed it third go. Only once did I discover something strange, and that was more by misjudgement than anything. It gave me pause. I stayed among a crowd of visitors getting something to eat down a corridor off a sort of outpatients’ place. I heard an odd laugh, odd because it was familiar and shouldn’t have been there. I sidled out and stood under the canopy thing looking at the rain.
An ambulance bloke came past, smoking to advertise the benefits of sickness.
“
“France.” His voice mocked my sanity. He strolled on, adding a critical suffix about foreigners, especially me.
As if it mattered, like I said. Except that Cissie was going to die in France. I’d seen the terrible diagnosis written plain as day on her chart. Diseases strike terror into me. Pathetically, I wondered guiltily if it was catching. How long ago had it been? I tried to work out. Could a disease lurk, only to spring out…? Gulp. I’d been pretty tired lately. But coping with the rapacious Almira would have weakened a randy regiment, so there was no telling. Three silhouette nurses talked inside the porch across the forecourt. A tubby girl gave an odd whoopy laugh, cut it for professional reasons. Matron would scold.
“All right, Lovejoy?” Almira, at her most sympathetic.
“Aye, love.”
“Lovejoy,” from Paul. “I’m sorry. I…”
He looked so lost I even felt sorry for him. “It’s all right,” I said, wondering what the hell I was saying. I was reassuring him that I was fine. “I mean I’m sorry.” Even that didn’t sound right.
“We should get back, Lovejoy,” from Almira. Paul said he’d drive us.
We finished the journey in almost total silence, except for Almira saying if there was anything we could do, Paulie, just get in touch, not to bother giving any notice. How, without a phone? I didn’t ask. He nodded, kept glancing at me as if I was somehow more injured than him. I tried to force myself, but couldn’t reach out and shake his hand. He didn’t offer, either, so that was all right.
“Cheers, Paul,” I said as we did that silly look-at-the-floor shuffle folk do at such times. “Be seeing you.” Would I?
“Yes,” he said, brightening. He went downcast, probably realizing that it was Cissie’s dying wish that was possibly going to get him out of some scrape.
“Not coming in for a nightcap, Paulie?” Almira asked.
He seemed to lighten in hope for a second, then something in her expression clicked and he shook his head with the nearest he could manage to resolve, and dutifully got back in the Jag. Once a serf, nowt but. A night bird did its barmy whoop noise. It sounded so like a girl with a funny laugh.
“Better get back,” he said. “Thanks.”
Almira bussed him farewell. “Give our fondest love to Cissie.”
“Lovejoy.” He was trying to say something as he fired the engine. “Thanks, old chap. I really do mean it, you know.”
“That’s okay,” I said.
Me and Almira waved him ofF. He had the radio on as he turned up among the trees, headlights a cone of light
