Cause And Effect

by Pete Adams

  Jack’s warning was not heeded, but Alfie was coming under control, chemically. ‘Jack, seriously, thank you for saving Keanu for us.’

  ‘You were there as well, Kipper.’

  A short burst of gunfire but more subdued, ‘Jack, it’s you, and thank you for calling me Kipper.’

  ‘Check his head, Jim.’

  ‘James.’

  ‘Thanks for the nickname, I mean, feel we have a bond now.’

  '‘Kin hell, Kipper, you’re a villain and I wear a white hat.’

  ‘A white hat and a pink hand. Alice tells me if you don’t have one of your nicknames, you’re on the outside, Pugwash, brilliant; want me to have a word with 'im, subtle like?’

  Jack eased himself up, propped on his elbow, ‘Thank you, but leave Pugwash for now.’

  ‘We all seem settled in here, how’s he doing Jamie?’ Mandy had arrived.

  ‘It’s James, not Jamie and, Jack, it is not Jim.’ Jack noted Jim’s irritability.

  Mandy laughed, ‘Sorry, Jim, I’ve been with him too long.’

  Jack saw she had red rimmed eyes, washed out, looking her age, and entering into the spirit, she whispered to Jim, who looked up, ‘Right, Jane, let’s get you upstairs.’

  ‘Close your mouth, Michael, we are not a codfish,’ she punched the air, and Jack thought she looked gorgeous, red puffed eyes, lines, age and all. His face must have conveyed that message as she responded with a warm smile; he melted, felt like crying. Mandy looked to Alfie, ‘Mr Herring, ordinarily I would be very pleased to see you behind bars, but for now, I am grateful. Thank you for looking after Jack.’

  ‘Kipper,’ he said, and Mandy looked confused.

  Jack flicked his head towards Kipper’s bed, shrugged his shoulders, ‘So what can I tell you, d ‘you think it’s easy,’ back to Mandy and found she was peeping her head around two porters who looked like Mike and Bernie Winters. Nobody seemed to know them either, one short cheesy bloke, clearly the brains of the outfit, the other a gorilla with a grin going, “eeeeeH”.

  Jack’s penny dropped, ‘What’s happening?’

  Jim responded, ‘Jane, you have a lot of minor wounds and you will need to be put out in order for us to treat you.’

  ‘But I don’t feel a thing.’

  ‘We’ve anaesthetised the bad areas.’

  ‘I think I would have remembered needles, Jim.’

  ‘Alzheimer’s, and you farted then fainted when you saw the needle.’

  Through the machine gun fire, Jack could hear Mandy laughing, and a definite “eeeeh.”

  ‘Jamie darling, you’ve got potential,’ Mandy said.

  Jack lifted himself a little, ‘Get me out of here, Bernie, eeeeh.’ Nobody got the joke, but it didn’t matter because Kipper laughed anyway, and Jack was grateful to hear the machine guns fading in the distance, like being taken from the battlefield.

  Mandy caught up with the trolley, ‘Jack, I’ll be waiting for you.’

  His good hand reached for hers, ‘Amanda, I’m scared.’

  ‘I know. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

  ‘What if I don’t wake up?’

  ‘Then I will fight Michael for your pogo stick.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re definitely coming on, sweet’art.’

  She smiled back at him, ‘I heard you say to Dolly you thought I was past all that, and you were only interested because I wouldn’t get PMT, well I’ve got news for you, we have the menopause.’

  ‘Menopause, no sweat,’ Jack beckoned her. ‘This Sunday, I want our families together, Sunday Roast, you, your Liz and David, me, Michael, Colleen, Alana and whatshisname.’ The lift bonged, “Doors Opening.” ‘No kidding, Tonto,’ he said.

  The nurse and Mike Winters laughed, Bernie went, “eeeeh,” Mandy shrugged and leaned down to him as they waited outside theatre. ‘Jack I will try, but you know Liz is not overly keen on you.’ She noticed his eye swimming and figured it must be the pre-med he hadn’t noticed being given.

  ‘Amanda, it’s time she grew up and accepted I’m not an arsehole of the first order,’ referring to a quote from Mandy's daughter the last time they’d met.

  ‘I’ll try, Jack, I want her to see what I see.’

  Jack made to look shocked his bits and pieces were exposed; it amused her, ‘Amanda,’ she bent down, ‘tell the nurse I’m hurting, please.’ She put her hand on his, thought of what Del-Boy had said, and kissed him, they started to wheel him in, ‘Tell Michael you can have my pogo stick.’ Last word again, she thought.

  Forty-Two

  Mandy insisted she was okay for the press conference, Spotty was waiting to get going. She detected a look of youthful yearning in his eyes, probably in his loins too, and remembered Jack saying what he was like when he was a youth, and how he felt about older women, except he insisted he didn’t have spots. The Commander looked back, concerned, she’d not noticed they had gone in. She put one foot in front of the other.

  ‘There will be a statement from Commander Manners, we will then take some questions,’ Spotty turned to Mandy to seek a look of approval and mutual sexual attraction. She nodded and Spotty beamed. I bet he thinks he’s in there she thought; God save me from men and spotty kids.

  The Commander started, ‘At the last briefing, Inspector Austin reported the investigation was proceeding on other fronts. Today our enquiries led us to a shop, the Asian Emporium in the north of Portsmouth, where a suspected terrorist cell had hidden themselves, holding the owners, Mr and Mrs Ali, as emotional hostages. We believe they hold hostage elsewhere, the Ali’s son, and we are looking for him; our thoughts are with Mr and Mrs Ali tonight. Mrs Ali is recovering in hospital, shock, and worried for her son. Mr Ali has a few broken bones as does a Mr Herring, a member of the public who assisted. We will take some questions.’

  Spotty selected a BBC Journalist, ‘Commander, is it true the owner of the shop is called Osama by Inspector Austin?’

  The Commander metaphorically slapped his forehead, ‘I see the subtleties of the investigation, and the Police results, are to be skirted over so we can get to the more salacious bits. It is important to say that Mr Ali has been known, affectionately I might add, as Osama for some time, and Inspector Austin is not responsible for the nickname. Apart from what the prejudiced or the politically correct amongst us may think, Mr and Mrs Ali, are English through and through, and take great pride in their absorption of the humour, and that includes affectionate epithets.’ He resisted the prompts for more questions and carried on, ‘I know also many of you will now want to move onto Captain Pugwash, regardless we have had an explosion in Portsmouth today and people have died, I have forever admired the incisive investigative skills of the British Press, but I tell you this, in this police station if you do not have a nickname, you feel left out. Myself, I am known as Good or Bad Manners, and the superintendent, as Mandy pumps or Mandy lifeboats.’

  Mandy coloured, but could see the Commander was consummately defusing a hot subject. She thought of what Jack would say, “They know what you’re known as anyway, it’s never a secret”. Spotty called on another question, and various others that enquired about the operation, the explosion, who they suspected as the terrorists, but inevitably it came back to the personal.

  ‘Superintendent, can you tell us how Inspector Austin is, please?’

  She adjusted her position in her seat, which did not disguise her internal discomfort, ‘Inspector Austin is in the operating theatre right now, and I will be going back to the hospital just as soon as you have all of the hot gossip you need. His condition is not life threatening, although he was joking as he went in and I felt like killing him myself.’ There was laughter, and the Commander nodded approval.

  ‘Superintendent, how long is the investigation expected to last?’

  She was settling into professional mode, ‘If Inspector Austin was here, he would say to you, there is a child missing and others were hurt today, members of the public who had volunteered to help him regardless of the risk
to themselves. Spotty here can give the names to you afterwards.’

  The press laughed, and Spotty blushed, looked deflated, after all, his mum would be watching if she were not doing his tea. Mandy realised she’d let her guard down. ‘I called Jeff, Spotty, to indicate to you all he is an integral part of our team, respected by Inspector Austin, a sign to everyone around the police station Jeff is one of us.’ She went on, ‘For those interested, Inspector Austin is calling Mr Alfie Herring, Kipper, and Mr Herring seems rather pleased with this.’

  ‘Superintendent, you said you were going back to the hospital, is there any truth in the rumour that you and the Inspector are...are an item?’

  She responded with a warm smile, ‘I can tell you I am assisting Jane Austin with his enquiries, and find him quite arresting, and yes, I have an appointment at Specsavers.’

  She stood to laughter, and left the room, the Commander taking her lead. Spotty was taken completely unawares and knew he’d missed his chance; Mandy walking speedily and deliberately on her way out of the building, and he thought, although she was older than his Mum, she was as sexy as anything.

  Forty-Three

  Mandy sat beside Jack’s bed, a sensation of mixed emotions. She was angry, he had deliberately gone into a dangerous situation and made her worry; think he was dead. This powerful emotion of love towards him, how did that happen? How could this be, when all of her sensibilities said run a mile, but in her mind’s eye she saw the truly good things about Jack that outweighed the fact he was a fat and ugly juvenile. Christ, she thought, even Spotty is more mature than him.

  ‘Mum.’

  Mandy turned, shocked from her thoughts by a familiar voice, her daughter Elizabeth at the end of the bed. Mandy stood and they hugged, ‘Liz, I didn’t expect to see you,’ leaning her head back, but maintaining the embrace.

  ‘I thought you might need me?’

  ‘Darling, thank you, I do need you.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Well, if he was awake, he would be arguing to take me to the pictures,’ Mandy was emotional. ‘He was lucky; shielded from the blast by a pile of rice sacks. He’s had to have a million splinters removed, cuts sewn or taped, but he was so ugly before nobody will notice.’ Jack was groggy, he heard, but carried on drifting. Mandy had Jack’s good hand in one of hers and was holding her daughter's with the other. She sensed Jack was coming around, and speaking seriously to Liz, ‘He will need another operation.’

  Jack was taken aback, she felt an involuntary response in his hand. Oh no, I’m worse than I thought and heard Liz respond.

  'Another operation?

  ‘Yes, he’s got a mango stuck up his arse.’

  Liz laughed out loud and they both turned as Jack joined them, Liz, shocked to see his eye open, not so Mandy. They shared the humour together as the nurse shooed them away, saying she needed a moment with the Inspector.

  ‘Mum, I’m sorry I called him an arsehole, you love him, don’t you?’

  She hugged her daughter, ‘Liz, sweetheart, Jack is one of the most infuriating men I have ever met. Certifiable loony bin material, wretchedly sexist, but not, if you can understand that, and as soon as he graduates from junior school, I may seriously consider having sex with him. So, he is a lot of things, but he is not an arsehole.’

  Jack was free of clips, thermometers, blood pressure cuffs, and the nurse was shaping to pull the curtains back, ‘Can I get you a bed pan, Mr Austin, perhaps you can shit the mango out and save an operation?’

  ‘If I do nurse be sure to stay out of the line of fire.’

  Mandy whispered to Liz, ‘Last word, he always manages it.’ Mandy’s phone rang, ‘I’ll take this outside or they get shirty.’

  Liz held Jack’s gaze, his head was clearing. ‘I would like you and your partner to come and have lunch with me and my family this Sunday. Can you get up from Exeketer?” He called Exeter, Exeketer, in his best country accent; thought it would make her feel at home.

  Liz ignored his outspoken thoughts, ‘What do you mean, my partner?’

  ‘Liz darlin', you need to talk to your mum, it’s hurting you're leaving her out,’ he put his hand up to stop her talking, and coincidentally any passing traffic, ‘she knows something and nothing, but you need to tell her before she asks, trust me on this one.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  Jack managed a patronising smile, ‘Despite what your mum says, I notice things, what’s her name?’

  ‘Carly.’

  ‘Okay, will Curly come up for Sunday roast?’

  Liz chuckled into her chest, ‘It’s Carly, and she’s been pressing to meet my family, and it looks like you might be a part of that soon, do you love Mum?’

  ‘I do, but I’ve had my problems.’

  There was a brief silence, Liz gathering her resolve. ‘Getting over the death of your wife?’

  He felt a pang in the pit of his stomach, bugger, still there, ‘Bingo darlin’, but I’m getting there, and I will do nothing to hurt your mum, you have to believe that.’

  ‘I do,’ a slightly uncomfortable silence, ‘I’m sorry I called you an arsehole, Jack, but you are a juvenile.’

  ‘And I’m too old a juvenile to change.’

  Mandy bounced back, feigning more energetic bonhomie than she truly felt, ‘Well, are we getting on alright, Liz what are your plans because I was going to get Jack some stuff then come back and sit with him.’

  ‘Whoa Neddy,’ Jack, who else could it be? He nodded to Liz, and Mandy turned to face her daughter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mum, can we go out, have a drink or something?’ Mandy looked to Jack, seeking an answer that was not coming. ‘Mum, I want to talk. I have something to tell you.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘Amanda, I need to sleep, can you tell all callers, including the Gnome Secretary, I’m retiring early, please.’ Mandy looked at Jack quizzically, ‘Go,’ he said, his exertion lessons finally paying off.

  ‘Liz, go outside, I’ll be there in a minute, I just need to push that mango further up Jack’s arse,’ Liz stepped away looking distinctly edgy. ‘I sense Jane Austin in this?’

  ‘You need to talk to your daughter, and she will come on Sunday.’

  ‘Will you be okay?’

  ‘I still have my pogo stick, now bugger off and let me sleep.’

  She kissed him firmly on his lips, lifted his good hand onto her thigh and rubbed it up and down. Jack could feel the suspender button and felt immediately aroused, mentally, the rest of his body was fast asleep.

  ‘Bye darling,’ and she spun on her toes and left, punching the air as she stepped out.

  ‘What’s that about Mum?’

  ‘Last word Liz; 632 to 1.’

  ‘Mum, you’re getting as bad as him, and what’s this about the Home Secretary?’

  ‘Jack called the Home Secretary a short arse bald cretin on the video link today.’

  ‘Is the Home Secretary short and bald?’

  ‘Well, I would wager Jack thought he was talking to Bill Vague,' she flicked her hands, ‘think Theresa Green was a little put out though,’ he can't stand her, so no sweat there, and she put her arm around her daughter and hugged her.

  Forty-Four

  The Doctors recommended Jack stay in hospital a few more days. ‘Resistance is futile,’ Jack said, and to demonstrate his wellness, he hopped off the bed and goose stepped up and down the ward, a finger to his top lip; Hitler in baggy pyjamas, bouncing floppy bits and pieces, and in his Nuremburg rally accent, he repeated, “Resistance is futile”, several times. If it worried the Doctors, Mandy couldn’t see it, because they shared the merriment with the nurses and other patients; Jack’s audience.

  Mandy was not convinced. She had tried to ask the Doctors, in an embarrassing roundabout way, if she could sleep with Jack, and the doctors conferred. “What do you think, is Jack up for a...?” and they made obscene hand gestures. Mandy had blushed like she was fourteen,
and thought to herself, you are a grown woman, a Superintendent in the police no less. She tried to say she just wanted to sleep with him to make sure he was okay, and they conferred again, and it became clear Jack had endeared himself to all the medical staff. “What do you think, will Jack be able to get any sleep if this woman was next to him?” and they laughed again, but finally one Doctor succumbed to a medical response, saying, “He may get some flash backs, but we think this unlikely. We would have kept him in another two days, for complete bed rest, if you pardon the pun. Should you sleep with him?” and here they looked at each other and smiled, “personally, I think you need your eyes, ears, and brains tested, but medically, I cannot reasonably advise against it.”

  Oh how they had laughed, and how red she had gone. Now, here in Jack’s living room, she looked around. David, Colleen, and Carly, who Jack was insisting on calling Curly, were getting on well. Where was Liz, she hoped she had explained about Jack and his nicknames to Carly? She had a flurry of panic, but then Liz came back with Jack, who went to the basket in the window and flopped on the floor to be with Martin.

  Martin was not right, and neither was Jack.

  Carly was clearly very fond of her daughter. How did she not see this, and how did Jack? She would speak to him, knew this would scare him shitless, and this did provide her with a lighter moment. The vet had said Martin needed time to get back to his old self, but Jack seemed oblivious, distant. Michael was getting the roast lunch going, but it would be closer to a dinner, but as Jack said, “Is anyone in a hurry?”

  ‘Jack, can I have a word please?’ she beckoned, and he followed her up the stairs to his bedroom, making moronic face gestures to his audience below. In his bedroom, ‘Sit down Jack, tell me, how do you feel?’

  Not even tempted to play the fool, ‘Terrible.’

  ‘Do you feel sick, are you in pain?’

  ‘The pain is manageable, a bit tom and dick; it’s something else.’ She was worried, but kept her mouth shut, ‘When I went into Osama’s, it was you I was thinking about, and when I woke up in hospital after the operation, you were my first thought.’