'I'll make you a hot drink,' she offered but he didn't reply and she left him staring into space, his features set like a mask. He looked much older, the set of his shoulders drooping as though the life had been sucked out of him.
When she had made tea, she brought a mug back to the fire. He'd fallen asleep with his head on the back of the chair. Bella put the drink in the grate to keep it warm. There was nothing she could think of to help. Joyce was very sick. The pregnancy was ill-fated as the baby was growing outside of the womb. She thought of what Joyce had told her in confidence, of her doubts and fears about the life she had once led.
It was almost as if Joyce had known …
She closed her eyes and tried to pray. 'Hail Mary, full of grace,' she murmured, but the words rang empty. She hadn't prayed since she was a child. Memories flowed back of Bow Street and of Terry, the only light in a very dark place.
After all this time she still missed him. Missed his smile, his innocence, his loyalty and the comradeship they had shared right up to his passing.
If only Micky was here to talk to. The old Micky who understood how she felt and had once been able to make everything seem right.
When she woke, daylight slipped softly through the curtains. The mantel clock was striking six. Ron groaned softly as he sat up in the chair. 'You sat up all night with me?' he asked gruffly.
'I slept on the couch.'
He stood up, confusion and fear in his face. 'I must go to the hospital.' He thrust his hand through his untidy hair. 'I shouldn't have slept so long.'
'You were exhausted. Do you want to wash and shave before you go? And eat a little breakfast?'
'There's no time. I want to be with her when she comes round.' He stopped when he got to the door. 'I suppose Micky's not home?'
'Not yet.'
'Thanks, Bella …'
'What for?'
He patted her arm, unable to speak.
The frosty morning air floated down the steps of the airey and Ronnie jumped them two at a time.
What would happen now? Bella wondered as she listened to Ronnie's car move away. Had Joyce's operation been successful? When the children were up she would go upstairs and phone Sean. Surely he would be able to contact Micky?
It was New Year's Day.
Micky was higher than a kite. He was also waiting for McNee's collector. The Flamingo was empty, last night revellers gone, leaving the air stale with smoke and drink. The chairs were turned up on the tables and the floor was still littered with cigarette packets, balloons and a few party hats. The women had celebrated rowdily, causing an affray in the street below. Old Bill had been called as usual. But Micky had been tripping, smoking and drinking, and trying his best to sleep with a new girl at the club. She was far out now, away with the fairies.
He wanted to satisfy McNee for a while. Would have done so by now if the LSD had arrived on time. The quality was sharp and would blow his punters minds. It would fetch the best price on the streets without even trying. Till then, he was enjoying a ride on his rainbow. Would enjoy it even more when the woman beside him opened her eyes.
Suddenly there was a voice outside. If it was McNee's boys, he would bung them the ton he'd cobbled together. Then they'd leave him alone and he could space out some more.
'Who's that?' he called as he pushed himself up on his elbow and narrowed his eyes at the door.
'It's me, Mr Bryant,' said the old man who swept the floors. 'You've got visitors.'
'Well, show them in.' Micky took a drag on the pipe and filled his lungs.
To his surprise Sean appeared. His baby brother of all people. Now where was the little fairy he knocked around with? Micky rested back, his eyes vacant. It was Sean – or was it? He laughed stupidly, not really caring.
The next thing Micky knew he was being lifted under the armpits. Now that was a first. The girl was still on the couch and he was flying above her. Sean's voice was somewhere in his head, but now he couldn't see him. He wasn't so sure he like this.
Now, after being pulled down the stairs, he appeared to be moving along of his own accord. He laughed again, his head flopping from side to side.
Although Micky was not aware of it, he was riding in the back of Sean's car. Ashley was sitting beside him and in silence they pulled into a hot dog stand. They poured coffee down his throat and he gagged, bringing it up in the gutter. Each time they poured more, until finally he started to sober.
The colours were fading now, as was his sense of well being. Micky made a mental note somewhere in his mind, never to buy from the African again. He'd stick to his own dealer who always provided the best. He never had a bad trip with that shag. A few bob more, but worth it. Staring at the back of Sean's head as they sped through the streets, Micky resisted his descent to the planet.
Sean and Ashley were waiting impatiently as Bella came back into the room. 'You'd better go without Micky,' she said. her arms full of Micky's filthy clothes. 'He'll be no use at the hospital. He's still being sick. What was he drinking?'
Sean and Ashley shrugged as if they
