Lily Alone

by Vivien Brown

  ‘It’s okay. Don’t bother. Really. I wasn’t thirsty anyway. And I meant what I said about breakfast. Come down to us, all of you. I can promise you milk aplenty, and my mother does a mean fry-up, if you fancy it. By the way, there’s a van outside. Iron Maiden, it says on the side. The driver’s just let himself in. Anything to do with you?’

  She shook her head. ‘They’re a rock group, aren’t they? Iron Maiden? What would they be doing coming to see me?’ She giggled, flicking her hair back, and William couldn’t help noticing her eyes. How blue they were, and how they sparkled as she laughed.

  He laughed back. ‘Heard about your legendary head banging, perhaps? Come to offer you a job as their roadie? Answering your fan letter?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Oh, you’re wrong. It is you they’re after!’ William turned his head towards the hall where the sound of a sudden thumping on the door had made them both jump. Geraldine went to answer it.

  ‘Morning, love.’ The bald man was on the step, as broad as he was tall, filling the doorway. He spoke with a very loud and very strong London accent. ‘Where’s young Ruby then? I called for the stuff the other day and she weren’t here then neither. It won’t do, you know. I ain’t got all day to keep coming back ’ere willy-nilly.’

  ‘Stuff?’ William could hear Geraldine put on a new voice, much posher than the one she’d been using just seconds before. Susan used to do that too, usually when she was talking to washing machine repair men, window cleaners, people like that. It was a defence mechanism, he knew, a way of sounding authoritative, to stop them taking advantage, adding on ludicrous call-out charges or trying their luck with a bit of flirting over a cup of tea. William wandered out into the hall and stood behind Geraldine. Safety in numbers, in case of trouble. He wasn’t sure he liked the man’s tone.

  ‘Yeah, the ironing, love. I’ve brought her another lot, but she’s behind. Not handed over the previous yet. There isn’t a problem, is there? Boss won’t be too pleased if it’s not done.’

  He dumped the box he was carrying at her feet and peered into the flat. ‘Ready, is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Geraldine was flustered, William could tell. ‘I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Then let’s start again, shall we? Ruby does the ironing, I pick it up, I bring her the next lot, she does it, I pick it up, she gets paid. Get it now?’

  ‘The box, Geraldine …’ William stepped forward and placed a calming hand on her arm. ‘There was a box outside when we were here yesterday. Where is it now? Did you bring it inside?’

  ‘This, do you mean?’ She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and came back, dragging the box along the carpet.

  The man bent and opened it. ‘Not done, is it?’

  ‘Well, no. It would seem not. But we didn’t know anything about it, did we?’ She turned to William for support. ‘Only, Ruby … she’s in hospital at the moment. We don’t actually know how long for. So, I’m afraid the ironing is the last of our worries right now.’

  ‘Sorry ’bout that, but he won’t like it. She could lose her job over this.’ He stood and scratched his head, the light from the bulb behind him shining in great glary patches across the top of it where the raindrops hadn’t quite dried. ‘I suppose I’d best take it all back then. And the lot from the day before. Where’s that then, eh? Don’t know what he’s going to say about any of this. She could at least have let us know. Ruby, I mean. About not being able to do it. She’s usually pretty reliable. Have to get someone else now.’

  ‘No!’ William stopped him, just as he was about to walk away, balancing the two boxes now, new and old, in his burly tattooed arms. ‘It’s all right. Leave them. We wouldn’t want Ruby to get into trouble or to lose her job. Or her pay. You say there’s some more somewhere? We’ll find it and it’ll be done. All of it. Later today. Five o’clock suit you?’

  ‘Well, it’ll have to, I suppose. Five though? No later. No messing me about. I’ll come back at five, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  William took the boxes from him, fumbled them back to the floor and closed the door.

  Geraldine was looking at him as if he’d gone mad. ‘Ironing?’ she said. ‘Two boxes of ironing? How are we going to get that lot done in time?’

  ‘My mother.’ William grinned. ‘She said she wanted to do something to help. And, as it was her cat that weed on the box … Oh, don’t ask! Well, I think she just may have to wash some of it first!’

  *

  ‘Lovely eggs, Agnes.’ Geraldine wiped her mouth with a paper serviette and put her cutlery down. ‘So big too! Where do you get them? They’re not supermarket, are they?’

  ‘Thank you, dear. No, there’s a little man comes round. Brings them to the door, every Friday. Farm eggs, they are. Free range. I don’t like to think of those poor hens all cooped up in boxes, not being able to see the light of day or peck about in the grass, do you?’

  Michael watched Lily dip her soldier into the runny yolk of her third egg. She was eating like a small horse this morning and, despite constant questions about her mummy, had definitely got much of her spark back.

  ‘This is so kind of you,’ Geraldine went on. ‘Feeding us up like this.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s so good to have someone to cook for. I spend too much time on my own these days, and you don’t always bother to make proper meals, do you, when there’s no one to share them with?’

  Geraldine shook her head, as if she understood only too well. And so, Michael couldn’t help noticing, did William.

  ‘I have to do something about getting a car seat later on today, for Lily.’ Michael frowned and shook his head. ‘Got to stick to the law of the land, and keep that Freeman woman happy.’

  ‘It’s not just rules for the sake of rules,’ Geraldine said. ‘It’s to keep Lily safe, Michael. On the roads. And, after what’s happened to her mother, you must surely see how important that is.’

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s just more hassle though, isn’t it? Still, we can’t have anything else happen to Lily, can we?’ He ruffled his daughter’s hair and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘It might take time, so it will have to wait for now. I think we’d better get over to the hospital first, to see what’s happening with Ruby. And I’m hoping they might let Lily in to see her, if the tubes and stuff aren’t too intimidating for her. Depends what they say. So … does the bus that stops on the corner take us there? The number … oh, I don’t remember. I always had a car to get about when I lived here. I’m not very up on public transport.’ Michael drained his cup and started to lift Lily and Archie from their shared chair.

  ‘Oh, yes, dear, it does.’ Agnes smiled at him. ‘There’s just the one route that comes along here, so you can’t go getting on the wrong bus! And it stops right outside the outpatients’ entrance, so you’ll only have to walk through to the lifts. I go there for my arthritis, you know, every six months or so. They say I may need a new knee. Well, two if I’m lucky, but they only ever do the one op at a time. There’s a waiting list, of course. Still, it only takes twenty minutes or so. The journey, not the operation! Yes, about twenty minutes, door to door, though you can never tell, what with the traffic.’

  ‘What about you, Mum? Coming with us?’

  Geraldine looked at her watch. ‘Well, to be honest, I think I’d be better employed here, getting some supplies in. If you leave me the car. There’s still washing to do. Sheets and things and I really should help you with all that ironing too, Agnes.’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m a dab hand with the steam iron, so long as I can sit down while I’m doing it. As I was saying, the old knees aren’t what they were. But William could help you out today, I’m sure, couldn’t you, William? If you wanted to go into town, or to the supermarket. Show you where things are. Maybe even help you to get that car seat sorted out while your son and granddaughter are out. There’s a Mothercare, I think, in that big new shopping centre. He’s very handy w
hen it comes to lifting and carrying, aren’t you William? I don’t suppose these car seat things are light.’

  Geraldine was about to protest but William was already on his feet. ‘At your service, madam,’ he said, bowing like a chauffeur and pulling his car keys out from his pocket. ‘And I am happy to take my car. It’s bigger than yours. More room for packages.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ruby

  He’s here. When Mrs Payne offered me the job in her shop, I knew it was only as a favour to Mrs Castle. She probably didn’t really want me. Well, who does? Not even my own mother, wherever she is these days. Or my dad, wherever, and whoever, he is.

  I hadn’t expected her to give me a room too. Mrs Payne, that is. Or keep saying ‘Call me Geri’, because I can’t. Not yet. I’m eighteen but I know I can’t stay here any longer. Children’s homes are for children, and I’m not a child any more. She has a nice house, with a spare room, and we do get on. It’s so kind of her, though it doesn’t stop me from being scared. Or from calling her Mrs Payne, still.

  And now he’s here, helping her to load my things into the car. Her son, Michael. I don’t know if he recognises me, from the bank, our hands hovering over the coin bags this last year and a half, my heart banging loud enough to set the alarms off, my eyes burning into his back as I follow him along the street. If he does, he doesn’t say so.

  I don’t have much. Not a lot to call my own. Clothes, a couple of pairs of sturdy shoes, my shampoo and stuff, and the doll, the latest one. I don’t know why I’ve kept her. I’m not a child.

  There’s nothing worth anything, really. Pretty much like me. The basics, enough to get by, but nothing out of the ordinary. Most of it is in carrier bags, all my worldly goods, and it doesn’t even fill the boot of the car. I feel a bit small, unimportant, not even owning a proper suitcase. I bet Mrs Payne has a whole matching set.

  My room is the smallest in the house, just like I am, but I can shut the door and be alone, and nobody comes in without knocking. Which is nice. Private. I like that. Through one wall I can hear the bathroom, the running of taps, the flushing of the loo, a gurgling from the pipes in the night. I have even heard a fart or two sometimes, loud ones, which isn’t as funny as it sounds. And once, only once, I heard her crying, but I didn’t say anything. Not then, not ever. Through the other wall I should be able to hear Michael. I know he’s in there, sleeping just inches away, with only a layer of bricks and plaster to separate us, but I never do.

  It’s an odd feeling, being independent, cut adrift, on the verge of my own adult life. I wonder if everyone feels this way at my age, or is it just me? And the people like me? The care home kids, with nowhere of their own to go, nowhere to belong.

  Michael wears boxers. Blue, white, grey. I’ve seen them on the line. Size fifteen shirts and black socks that all look the same and sit in rolled-up pairs on the worktop when his mother sorts the laundry. I never see pyjamas. I think about that a lot, when we are one each side of the wall. Michael, without pyjamas.

  I never normally hear him, but now I do. He sounds a long way away, further than the other side of the wall. I don’t know what he’s saying, or doing, or thinking, but I know he’s here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  He couldn’t stay in the room any longer. It just felt wrong. Too warm, too oppressive, much too scary. Lily, gripping his hand so hard, was suddenly all clammed up with nothing to say, her eyes as wide as saucers. He shouldn’t have brought her in. Yet she wanted to see her mummy, and needed to.

  God knows what she made of all this. Ruby lying there, so still. No hugs, no chatter, no smile. This was not the mummy Lily knew.

  They said they were cautiously optimistic, whatever that meant. The swelling, bleeding or whatever it was, had stopped, gone down. He didn’t understand it all, but the treatment was working. Time to reduce her medication, take her off the machinery, let her breathe for herself. Very soon now. Time to try to bring her back, out of her sleep, to wait for her to open her eyes. And then …

  It was the not knowing that was so bad. Not knowing when, or if. Not knowing if there might be any damage, anything lasting, that would change her. They’d warned him it was possible. The loss of some of her normal functions, for a while, for longer, forever. He didn’t really understand what that meant. That she might not be able to walk, talk, think, maybe even wee, for herself? He didn’t want to consider those things at all, even if they were just worst-case scenarios, but they’d said they were things he should be aware of, just in case. Things they could discuss, if and when …

  Then there was the not knowing what Social Services might decide to do. Because it wasn’t over yet, far from it, whatever might happen to Ruby. There would be more questions, judgements, decisions, and most of them taken right out of his hands, he’d bet.

  One thing he did know was that nothing would ever be quite the same again. For Ruby. For Lily. For himself. Whatever happened here today, or tomorrow, or the day after, things – so many things – were about to change.

  He took Lily out into the corridor, closed his eyes, allowed himself to breathe properly at last. He gulped in a big deep breath of hospital air, let Lily ride the lift up and down a few times and press the buttons while he let his thoughts seep in, bought her a chocolate bar in the shop. He wanted to get back on that bus and hotfoot it out of this awful place. Go as far away as possible. Pretend it wasn’t happening. Run. But something – Lily – made him stay.

  They went for a walk outside, in the grounds, killing time for a while. Pretending everything was normal. Scrunched through some leaves, splashed their fingers in the cold water of the fountain, sat for a while on the slightly damp wall where some of the nurses were eating or chatting in between the bouts of rain.

  ‘daddy?’ Lily said, kicking her little legs, her shoes bouncing off the wall, her forehead crumpled into a frown. ‘Are you going to go away again?’

  ‘Only for work, sweetheart. And not just yet.’ He put an arm around her and pulled her closer, snuggling her into his jacket and lowering his chin to rest on her hair. ‘But I will come back and see you lots and lots.’

  ‘And will Mummy go away again? When she’s better? Cos I don’t want to be on my own. I didn’t like it.’

  ‘No one is ever going to leave you on your own, ever again. I promise you.’

  ‘daddy?’ She lifted her chin and stared at him for what seemed like a long time, as if she was trying to tell whether what he said was true. ‘Can I have an ice cream?’

  Michael laughed. How quickly a child’s mind could flit from one thing to another. From something so worrying to something so simple. ‘You most certainly can. Let’s see what they have in the shop, shall we?’

  They went in, hand in hand, and Lily made her choice, and then, with a strawberry ice lolly dripping slowly down her arm, she happily sat out on the wall again and together they counted all the red cars coming in and out of the car park, then the blue ones, and then the yellow. Not so many of those. And it was a good feeling, talking, playing, just spending time with his daughter. He had missed her so much.

  After half an hour or so they went back inside, not because he wanted to but because Lily said she needed to go to the toilet. She was jiggling about, pulling a face, her small hand clutching at her clothes below the tummy line, as if she was trying hard to hold it in. He wasn’t sure how men were meant to manage things like that on their own, not when the child was a girl. Maybe he should have put a nappy on her. Was she properly trained yet? He didn’t know. He hadn’t thought.

  But he had to do something quickly now, or there would be a puddle he would have even less of a clue about dealing with, so he took her into the Gents, just inside the main doors. He ushered her straight into a cubicle, covering her eyes with his hand, so she wouldn’t have to see the line of men with their zips open lined up at the urinals. So she wouldn’t catch sight of anything she shouldn’t and start asking questions he preferred not to answer.

  She was his
little girl, and it was his job to protect her. From all the bad things in the world, and from having to confront them even a moment sooner than she really had to. He hadn’t done a very good job of it so far, but things would be different now. When Ruby woke up, they would talk. Properly talk, not stand their own separate ground, ignore each other, shout, sulk. They would talk and work things out, so Lily would be safe and happy and nothing like this could ever be allowed to happen again.

  He did the best he could wiping Lily dry with a wad of loo paper and pulling up her knickers, but skipped the hand washing bit. Despite their backs being turned, there were too many men with naked dripping penises on show for his liking, or for hers. There would be gel in the dispenser by the door to the ward. They could use that. Because he knew he had to go back up there, to be near to Ruby, to wait, and hope, and see this thing through to the end, whatever that end might be.

  Much as it all scared the life out of him, and much as he knew how much Ruby despised him, and that he would probably be the last person she’d want to see, there should be someone there for her, when the moment came. If it came. Oh, God, he so hoped that it would. And if she did wake up – no, he must be positive. When she woke up, he knew that it shouldn’t be some nurse she had never met standing there, or some do-good vicar she had no faith in. No. He owed it to her and to Lily. He knew it had to be him.

  *

  ‘So, tell me about your husband. What was his name?’

  ‘Kenneth. Well, Ken, really. Everyone called him Ken.’

  William bit into his iced bun. It was very slightly stale, but, despite eating one of his mother’s big breakfasts, he was hungry enough again not to complain. He watched Geraldine take a slow sip of her coffee and replace the cup very carefully in its saucer. She looked tired and pale, like the last day or so were finally catching up with her.