Chapter 10.
I think it’s Tuesday. I can’t remember much of what’s happened, except my afternoon and evening goes something like this.
4:30: Wake up slumped on a chair with a serious headache. I gather my bearings and see Pru lying on the sofa, snoring, her top half undone with stuff I really don’t want to see poking out. Can’t even begin to think about what might have happened. Get up and almost fall over, but manage to steady myself. Decide it’s too late and I’m too drunk to go back to the hospital. Make my way out slowly, carefully back towards my car and realize there’s a message on my phone that says: “Mark, where are you? Need you here ASAP for the anesthetics we discussed and to start the urgent procedure on patient 247. Critical that you get here right away. Jane.” Decide to go home and sleep it off, then I’ll see.
5:30: Another message from Jane. Two in fact and a voicemail. Decide to ignore them, I have a headache and it doesn’t seem like anything that can’t wait till morning. Get some sleep on the sofa, have a couple of beers and feel much better. No sign of Van, come to think of it there hasn’t been for a few days, so decide to treat myself to a take away Indian. In a bit.
7:00: Run out of beer. And cigarettes. Phone the Indian and guess what, they’ll deliver a twelve pack and a pack of 20 with my vindaloo. And just half an hour to wait. Put my feet up and finish what’s left in the bottle of whisky.
8:00: I feel good.
8:30: My phone rings. Check it’s not Jane so I answer it. “Where on earth are you?” There’s no hello, no how’s it going sweetheart or anything. “Hello Van” I burp. “Mark, are you drunk?”. “Erm, no” I lie. “Well where are you? I’ve been waiting for half an hour and the performance starts in ten minutes. I don’t want to be sitting here on my own with a glass of wine.” “Oh, er, sorry love” I start. “And don’t call me love!” she shouts. “Oh, er, sorry, l… I mean sweetheart. I’m just on my way. Got held up, sorry.” Silence. “You know, erm, work…” I try. There’s a sniff. Why does everyone have a cold. “You are on your way?”. “Yeah, yeah, course I am, wouldn’t miss it.” Another pause. “You’ve been acting very strangely recently Mark. Please don’t let me down.” “No, course, sorry, it’s just you know, work, been a bit tough…”. Her voice is softer. “I’ll see you in five minutes then? Don’t let me down.” “Yeah, see you in five, you got it” and I hang up.
8:34: Finish my last poppadum.
8:38: The phone rings again. It’s Van. Better avoid that one too.
8:48: The phone rings again. Don’t recognize the number, better get it. “Hope you’re on your way, man.” What? “Lexicon Row and Smythe Avenue.” Oh shit. “Don’t forget to wear black. Be seeing you.” I look down at my curry stained hospital clothes. Well, close enough. Better get gone.
8:51:Van rings. Can hardly answer it now I’m driving.
8:52: A text from Van. “Don’t bother meeting me tomorrow.”
8:59: Lexicon Row and Smythe Avenue. I stagger out.
Kings of the Night Page 13
