Pierre

by Primula Bond

  Pierre Levi turns his head towards the window. The bee is still there, crawling blindly into its own reflection.

  ‘You’re the first person, the first member of staff, who’s questioned this ghastly morning ritual. Actually, it’s more than that. You can see how I feel about it.’

  ‘Maybe some of the patients like it? Even the ones who are perfectly capable of washing themselves, like you are.’ Even so, I pause what I’m doing. ‘Maybe that’s why the ritual was introduced?’

  ‘A little surreptitious pleasuring to keep the customers happy, you mean? A bonus in the pay packet if there’s a happy ending? You’d make a good sex worker, Cavalieri.’ The ghost of a smile plays around Pierre’s lips as he keeps looking at the window. ‘Why didn’t Nurse Jeannie think of that? We’re all poor frustrated fools in here. The men at least. And normally I’d be all for a gorgeous girl with lips like pillows touching me up.’

  ‘We’re not touching you up,’ I interrupt him, unwrapping my fingers. ‘We’re washing you. But if you find it humiliating then I’ll stop.’

  ‘Yes, please do. I don’t want you treating me as if I was a baby. It’s degrading. But then again, there’s nothing normal about any of this. There’s certainly nothing normal about me.’

  I pull the sheet back over, just covering him, but the stiff shape is still visible, making a tent out of the white cotton. Pierre knows perfectly well what just happened. He glances down at it, then at me. His face relaxes. The cheekbones are less sharp, the brows less hooded.

  Then he winks. I’m not imagining it, because I can feel it. The heat flooding through my body. Goddammit, I haven’t blushed in years, but here it comes. Into my face like a beacon for all to see.

  ‘Now look what you’ve made me do,’ I say, pulling the gloves off with a snap.

  ‘What, blush like a schoolgirl?’

  ‘No. Yes. No, I don’t mean that.’ I turn away, toss the gloves into the basket of towels still by my feet. ‘I mean I’ve only been working here a few weeks and you’ve already made me break the rules. Not washing you this morning could get me the sack.’

  He snorts. ‘You want to wash people’s sorry arses the rest of your life?’

  I look back at him, trying to read the blackness in his eyes. They are pulling me under, daring me to drown.

  ‘It’s not the job of my dreams, Mr Levi, but those are the regulations and I need the work. And you know what? I applied to come here because this haven for the rich and entitled pays well over the odds to wash people’s “sorry arses”.’

  ‘I like it!’ This time he really chuckles. ‘I like you! The other carers are all so fucking serious. I was only taking the piss, Rosie. That’s the way I am. I’ve got fuck all else to do in here, have I?

  I move the frame back into position and sweep the light duvet back over him.

  ‘Rosa. It’s Rosa. And you may be bored witless, but you could try being a little more polite to people who are only following instructions.’ I try, and fail, to push my curls back into place. ‘Shedloads of money shouldn’t equal zero manners. It should mean better manners. So I’m not disobeying any more rules, no matter how nicely you ask.’

  ‘OK, Rosa. Consider my wrist well and truly slapped. I won’t tell if you won’t.’ He hands me a kirby grip that has dropped out of my hair. ‘But I’m now going to consider it my goal to test how many other rules I can get you to break. Pushing at the boundaries is my pathetic attempt to go back, you see. To be the same as I was before.’

  I pick up the bowl and the cloths and the gloves. I hesitate, halted by the pain in his voice. His face settles into the white, expressionless mask I saw when I came in. But no. Don’t weaken. Remain professional at all times. Master and servant. Customer and employee.

  As I turn to retreat I trip over the basket of towels, sending them flying. The magazine flips out and lands on top of them.

  ‘What’s that? Brought me some gossip?’

  I open it to the right page and turn it to show him. He takes it from me, stares at it for a long time. The silence stretches again. The bee at the window skids across the glass and escapes at last.

  ‘It’s an article about you. I was reading it earlier, and you know something? My sister saw that show in New York. I remember her telling me.’ I tap at the photograph. ‘She said it was amazing. Very naughty. You had to go along dressed in period costume, and the cast mingled with the audience and dragged you onto this walkway, onto the stage, until you all became part of the performance.’

  ‘Yes. I know all that,’ Pierre sighs. ‘I designed it.’

  ‘Carlo, her husband, thought it was ace. Then again, he’s pretty bloody naughty himself.’

  I clamp my mouth shut, but it’s too late. Pierre Levi lowers the magazine. His eyes are enormous, his eyelids drooping with the weight of sadness.

  ‘It says here, “The Way He Was.”’

  ‘Francesca said you were awesome. Like a ringmaster, you know, controlling all the animals.’

  ‘I was amazing. You see? It’s all in the past, Rosie. I don’t know who I am any more.’

  ‘You’re Pierre Levi, of course.’ I take the magazine out of his hands. ‘Here you are. In this magazine. A handsome, strong, successful man surrounded by brilliant dancing girls.’

  Pierre turns his face towards the window. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here but the sun has climbed higher in the sky and the heat is beating the energy out of the air.

  ‘So what do you see now, Rosie? Who do you see?’

  ‘I see a man, a patient, in a lot of pain.’ I try to remember the psycho-speak we were advised to use during training, for defusing difficult, upsetting situations. ‘You need to rest now.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I am. I’m no longer the circus master. I’m one of those animals, but I’m not dancing any more. I’m caged up. Chained. Hobbled.’

  He knocks at the frame, dislodging the duvet. I step forward, pull it back into place.

  ‘Temporarily, maybe. But you’re the same man, Mr Levi. Just with some broken bones. They’ll heal in the end, and then you’ll be as good as new.’

  ‘You’re a doctor now?’

  ‘No. I’m not even a proper nurse. But I do know that there’s one part of you that can never change, or lie.’

  We gaze at each other, and then down at the bed. The sheet has subsided and is lying smooth and snowy across him.

  A deep dimple appears in his cheek, and a bubble of laughter fizzes inside me, too.

  ‘What bit’s that then, Cavalieri? The one you’ve just kindly covered up?’

  ‘The eyes, Mr Levi! The eyes! They’re –’

  He presses his hands down on mine, where they are still resting on top of the duvet, and we laugh.

  Being in here is like being caught up in a freak storm, where one minute thunder clouds are turning the world black, the next a multi-coloured rainbow is arching over the sky promising a heatwave.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Lovely black eyes, Mr Levi. In this picture, and in real life. They’re piercing and bright, like a raven, or a –’

  ‘Ratsnake?’

  His hands are white from lack of natural light, and too thin from lack of appetite, and still covered in dried scratches, but they’re large, and warm. I sense that they’re strong, or they soon will be again. They could stroke you, or hold you, or lift you –

  ‘Seal. I was going to say a baby seal.’

  ‘Before they club it?’ He lifts my hands as if to use them as weapons.

  ‘No! I meant big, you know, and appealing –’

  Pierre’s laugh is stronger now, a slow, lazy rumble that comes up from his chest. He drops my hands gently, reaches for an apple and polishes it absently against the sheet.

  ‘Well, you may not have washed me to Nurse Jeannie’s exacting standards this morning but you’ve achieved something far more significant, Miss Rosie,’ he says, chuckling, taking such a greedy bite that juice sprays into the air. ‘I’ve talked more
to you in half an hour than I ever have to Dr Venska! And believe me, this is the first time anyone’s made me laugh.’

  ‘Voila. So allow me to give you my diagnosis, Mr Levi.’ I open the door and the mid-morning trolley bursts through. ‘What you really need is a kick up your sorry arse.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  I’m standing in Nurse Jeannie’s office. I’m expecting a grilling. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but I can’t think why else I’m in here.

  ‘I haven’t had time to speak to you since I left you on your own with Mr Levi the other day and I see it’s been more than a month now since you started here. So I thought it was time for an assessment, Rosa. You might benefit from some feedback. A lot of our clients have perked up significantly since you started working here.’

  She hands me a sheet of paper. I stare at it while I try to take in what she’s just said.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting such a nice – you mean you’re not telling me off?’ I say, still hovering in front of her desk. ‘So what have they said about me?’

  ‘As you know we regularly ask our clients to assess the staff by means of our questionnaire, and I have to tell you the comments made on your performance to date have been very positive.’ Nurse Jeannie leafs through my personnel file. ‘A lot of them enjoy their chats when you’re on duty. You’re obviously completing all the washing and cleaning tasks while you discuss the movies or holidays or the new royal baby or whatever it is you gossip about, because I’ve had no complaints from anyone on the quality of your work.’

  She looks up at me and taps her pen on the folder.

  ‘That’s great,’ I mumble, trying to read the remarks upside down. Has she sussed that there’s one patient who is not getting the regulation morning wash? ‘So I’m doing OK, then.’

  ‘More than OK. And that goes for the staff as well as the clients. We all like having you here. I like having you here.’ She coughs and taps the pen against her mouth. ‘I know you’re busy juggling these two jobs, but I wanted to make sure you’re quite happy. Not planning to move on any time soon?’

  ‘What makes you say that? I love it here.’

  ‘Any aspect in particular?’ She draws the tip of the pen between her lips. ‘Any one person who you’re becoming extra fond of?’

  She sucks on the pen and waits for me to answer.

  ‘We’re not allowed favourites. You told me that.’

  ‘Come on. We’re all human. I’ve seen a special little smile on your face some days.’ Nurse Jeannie laughs, pulling the pen out of her mouth with a little pop. ‘A rather fetching blush when you’re doing your rounds? Anything you want to confide in me, Rosa? You can tell me anything, you know that.’

  I straighten, pull back my shoulders as if preparing to salute. ‘Absolutely no personal or physical interaction which could jeopardise or interfere with the fulfilment of the clinic’s stated objective, which is professionally and discreetly to aid recovery. I think that’s rule 32 in the etiquette book.’

  She flicks her fingers, as if getting rid of some dust.

  ‘Oh, there are ways of making exceptions! So long as the relationship is subtle, you know. Out of hours. So long as it, well, I suppose any dates could take place off site.’

  I frown at her, trying hard not to look ignorant or rude. ‘Off site? But he can barely move at the moment, let alone get up to anything off the premises. In any case he hasn’t a clue –’

  ‘He?’

  ‘Er, I –’ I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my face flooding red. ‘We are talking about a patient here? I mean, whether or not I might be transgressing the client-to-carer status?’

  Nurse Jeannie straightens abruptly, dropping her pen.

  ‘Actually I was talking about carer-to-carer status, as you so militarily put it. As far as I’m aware there are no rules against staff members getting close.’

  ‘Staff members? I’m sorry, Nurse Jeannie. You’ve totally lost me. Carer-to-carer?’

  She turns her back, so there’s no way of reading those wide blue eyes. She pulls open the top drawer of a metal filing cabinet with an ear-splitting screech.

  ‘Do I really need to spell it out? I mean, you know, a doctor having an affair with a nurse. A matron with an assistant. A carer copping off with a porter. Staff relationships. Oh, forget it. Barking up the wrong tree. Let’s start again. Who are we talking about here? Who is the “he” who can barely move?’ She stops rifling in the drawer. ‘I’m guessing you’re talking about the occupant of room 202?’

  I don’t reply. My heart is sinking too fast. We haven’t been alone since that first time, there’s always been a colleague with me, but in barely a handful of days, in just a couple of snatched conversations, it looks like Pierre Levi’s achieved his goal, which is to cause me to break another cardinal rule. If I admit to him, or Nurse Jeannie, or even to myself, that I’ve started counting the hours till I’m in his room again, I’ll be for the high jump.

  ‘Perhaps you should change my rota, Nurse Jeannie. Move me to a different ward. I’m not admitting to anything, but, well, I’d hate to venture into forbidden waters.’

  Nurse Jeannie slams the drawer shut.

  ‘And I don’t want to – we don’t want to lose you, Rosa. I might have to keep a closer eye on your interpersonal skills, make sure you’re not stepping over any lines, but you’re in demand. I’m not going to change your shifts or rotas. For the moment.’

  ‘Thank you, Nurse Jeannie. But I still don’t quite understand –’

  ‘You’ve become very valuable in a very short space of time, Rosa. I don’t need to tell you how beneficial to our publicity it is to garner positive praise from our high-profile patients. And believe me, there have been some very colourful comments. You’re in danger of breaking one or two hearts there.’ Nurse Jeannie runs her finger across the name badge pinned to my breast. ‘And although I shouldn’t specify one particular example, you should know that Mr Levi has vastly improved in the last few days. Even so, you have to remember that our clients are way more vulnerable than they care to admit.’

  ‘So I’m not in any trouble, then.’

  ‘I will have to keep an eye on you, but with the best possible motives, Rosa.’ Nurse Jeannie moves her hand up to touch my cheek. ‘We want to avoid any breach of clinic etiquette, don’t we?’

  I nod, feeling my way round this odd conversation. On the one hand Nurse Jeannie seemed about to chastise me for getting close to one of the staff, but now she’s being, if anything, extra friendly and tactile. I’m tempted to tell her why there’s a special smile on my face when I walk past his room, why I’m blushing. I’m tempted to tell her, because she’s obviously guessed, about the lurching sensation I get, deep inside, whenever I think of Pierre Levi’s flat stomach. The dark hair of his groin. The warm, throbbing life of him, held in my hand.

  How can I tell her it makes me want to come when I remember Pierre Levi’s cock lifting as if in greeting when she first left us alone together?

  Nurse Jeannie bites the end of her pen.

  ‘Is it because he’s young, and male, and easily the most attractive inmate we have, and we’re asking you to do fairly intimate things to him?’

  I stare at her. ‘Christ! Does nursing training include mind-reading as well?’

  ‘It’s not so difficult. Your face is an open book, Rosa.’ She raises her hands in mock admission. ‘That’s one of the reasons I hired you. Emotional accessibility, within the parameters, is great for customer relations. I doubt I’m the only one who can read you. Whatever happened in Rome, it left you sore and wary of men. Am I right? You’ve been avoiding potential, you know, involvement. Am I right again?’

  ‘I was a vibrant, happy girl a year ago. Now I’m a boring old spinster.’

  I shrug, unable to speak. My throat is thick with tears.

  ‘You’re not old or boring, Rosa. You’re a beautiful young woman, if only you came out of your shell and realised it.’ Nurse Jeannie pauses. ‘And you’
re not alone, remember that. You’re never alone.’

  ‘You mean we’re one big happy family here?’

  ‘I’d like to think so. In the staffroom, anyway.’ Nurse Jeannie stands up. ‘Would it help if I told you, totally off the record, that Pierre Levi’s comments on your performance are the most complimentary of all?’

  I stare at her smiling face and feel my own face flooding red hot.

  ‘Really? Even though I’ve only really met him once?’

  ‘Funny. That’s exactly what he said.’ Nurse Jeannie keeps her eyes on me. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Be careful there, Rosa. He has a reputation.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve been reading Wow! magazine, too.’ I catch myself, but she’s still grinning. ‘Honestly, Nurse Jeannie. He’s got two broken legs, post-traumatic stress and insomnia. How dangerous can he be?’

  Nurse Jeannie closes my folder and holds it against her chest. ‘He’s recovering from severe injuries but you can’t deny the charisma’s still there. For those who could be susceptible. And I don’t just mean you.’

  I tip my chin up in an effort to look defiant, and to hide the twinge of jealousy.

  ‘Why? Who else is likely to fall under his spell?’

  ‘Anyone who gets too close to the flame might get burned. That’s all I’m going to reveal. Our rules are in place for a reason. On the record you must remember at all times that he and all the others are our patients. What the French call les malades. We, the staff, we’re the strong ones. Not just physically. Mentally we’re in charge, too, until our charges are better and ready to leave us.’

  My blush increases and I turn away to open the door to her office. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Nurse Jeannie. I’ll be the epitome of professionalism from now on.’

  She comes over and puts her arm round me.

  ‘Listen, my assessment of your probation period isn’t solely based on Mr Levi’s comments, though I’ve singled them out because he’s, well, higher profile than most. Everyone has noticed the escalation in his progress since those first grim weeks when he was admitted. He’s sitting up, he’s eating more, he’s doing well with his physio to strengthen his upper body – in short, he’s thriving. We like to think we achieve all that as a team, but you’re part of that team, Rosa, and judging by what he’s written here you’re very much part of his recovery, too.’