You Must Be Jo King

by Moira Murphy

  My mother was horrified. “Sam called in for a chat that’s all. Brought me a Women’s Weekly and a Turkish delight. He’s good like that.”

  “I say, Joanne, you couldn’t pass me that cardy and put it over my shoulders could you? It’s a bit chilly in here and I haven’t got love keeping me warm.” Bella was doing her best to wind my mother up.

  “Where’s Ruth off to?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Oh her!” said Bella, “She’s off strutting her stuff. There’s no holding her since that new hip kicked in properly. Talk about flighty! She’s off flaunting herself in that pink flowery frock, the one she came in. She’s after the new fella, Frank, says he looks like Burt Lancaster. Can’t see it myself although I have to admit, he is a bit tasty. She keeps giving him the glad eye, he just turns a blind one. Still, I wouldn’t mind putting some feelers out in his direction myself, if Ruth gives up on him.”

  “I thought it was that Jimmy who wears the flat cap you fancied, Bella,” said Nell.

  “Oh him, I’m too much woman for him, anyway it’s pigeons he fancies. No, I might just keep an eye on that Frank fella. You have to admit, there’s something about a man who can carry off a Trilby hat with Bart Simpson pyjamas. It’s not easy though, not with Nurse Saheed pacing like she does. She should have been a prison warden that one. I mean it’s not like we’re smoking weed or having it off in the linen cupboard, is it? Just a bit of harmless fun.”

  My mother tut-tutted. “It’s a regular little den of iniquity in here. Sometimes I think I’ll be pleased to get home.”

  “I’m just waiting for Ramadan, Joanne,” continued Bella, ignoring my mother, “when all the staff will be at the Mosque and we’ll have the place to ourselves. Then it’ll be like, what yer waiting for boys, grab a granny and let’s get this party started!’”

  We all laughed. She was incorrigible.

  I told my mother I wasn’t able to stay long as I had the builders in. That I’d had a few problems with plaster flaking off the bedroom ceiling, that sort of thing.

  “Oh,” she said, “well if you ask them nicely, they might screw the cistern back, it’s dangerous the way it is.”

  “You’re right, Mam, I’ll do that.”

  On my way out, I noticed for the first time, a poster pinned on the wall beside the reception desk which said, ‘Patting dogs welcome’. On the poster was a picture of a perfectly groomed, smiling lady in tweed skirt and jacket with an equally groomed, smiling dog at her feet. I thought of Nell and I vaguely wondered if Millie could be a patting dog, then I decided the idea was too ridiculous for words and promptly decided to forget it.

  34

  HOT OR WHAT!

  After only two days, the work on the house had come on in leaps and bounds. The ceiling had been repaired and re-plastered, the bedroom walls had been skimmed and the old bathroom suite was out. Dale suggested we should go together to choose the new suite and fittings for the bathroom as he would need to check the fixings. I suggested we also chose the flooring, the tiles and the blinds together as I hadn’t a clue about quantities, sizes, fittings etc. And so it was agreed.

  And I might tell you, Dale scrubbed up very nicely. Very nicely indeed. Female shoppers and assistants alike gave him more than a second look. And I was more than happy for them to think of us as a couple and how lucky was I? I decided to do some probing.

  “How long have you worked for the company?” I asked.

  “Not long. I was taken on as part of the new staff when the two companies merged.”

  “What are the bosses like?”

  “Well, George seems a decent enough bloke, quiet, unassuming, but it’s definitely Fran who wears the trousers. Bit of an ice maiden, stuck up, superficial, walks around as if she has a rod up her backside, has a calculator where her heart should be.”

  “So not your type then?”

  He said no way! He couldn’t image any bloke in his right mind fancying her, which seemed to sum George up perfectly. He said he liked his women looser, earthier and with a heart-beat. I wondered if there was any of that criteria I could fill. I had a heart-beat. Unfortunately, it beat in the body of a haggard and harassed mother of two who didn’t know half the time whether she was coming or going. But even if I didn’t consider myself to be a catch in Dale’s eyes, he must have thought I was loaded. I chose exactly what I wanted with absolutely no regard as to the cost and it was FRAN-TASTIC. It was all going into the final settlement for the job being done for Mrs Joanne Henderson; so that was all right.

  Lucy asked if she could bring Chloe round for tea after school as she wanted Chloe to see how hot Dale was. I was shocked. They weren’t even fourteen yet. I could just imagine how poor Dale would feel having two teenage girls ogling him and the jibes he would get from the other men. I told Lucy that Chloe was welcome to come for tea anytime, but NOT to ogle Dale who was only here to do his job. She rolled her eyes. God, how boring were mothers?

  35

  MILLIE THE PATTING DOG

  Poor Nell. She tried to smile, join in and look cheerful but she couldn’t seem to manage it. She just looked sad, sitting in her chair with her photos in her lap. She didn’t have any visitors; didn’t have any family, and my mother said that’s all Nell did, looked at her photos in between doing bits of crocheting. Bella’s only son lived with his family in Australia and that’s why she didn’t have visitors, but it didn’t bother Bella being as gregarious as she was, but Nell was different. For some reason I thought again of Millie becoming a patting dog. Nell had loved the dog that had died, they were a bit of company, she had said.

  I thought I’d run it past my mother.

  “Millie! But I don’t think they would want fleas in here, Joanne, they’re fussy about that sort of thing.”

  “We got rid of those ages ago, Mam. You have to admit she’s a friendly dog, albeit a bit mad, but she likes people and she’s not as hyper as she was, Leo and Josh have been training her. So what do you think?”

  “Well if you think it would cheer Nell up, you could ask Nurse Ali what she thinks.”

  Nurse Ali was all for it although, she said, obviously there would be some of the patients who wouldn’t be so keen. But providing the situation was well under control she couldn’t see a problem.

  And so it was arranged. I was to bring Millie in for an initial ten-minute visit, to try her out.

  36

  STEADY ON

  Lucy had something on her mind, “Mam, you know how Leo with be fifteen in November and I’ll be fourteen in September.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, wondering what this was leading to.

  “Well, do you think that’s too young for us to start going steady?”

  My mind raced. Was going steady a euphemism these days for having sex? I hesitated.

  “You do like Leo, don’t you, Mam?”

  “Yes, of course I do, Lucy. But you are both still very young and…”

  “You’re thinking about the sex thing aren’t you, Mam?”

  “Of course not Lucy, that’s the last thing I was thinking about!” It was sooo not.

  “Well if it is the sex thing that’s bothering you, Leo and I have talked about it and we won’t even think about that until I’m sixteen and when we do decide to do it, we’ll be sensible and use precautions. I mean Leo wants to go to college to do his music and I want to work in a wildlife conservation, so we know we have to be sensible.”

  They’d been talking about having sex! I thought they were rapping.

  “Well, what can I say, Lucy?”

  “There’s not a lot you can say really, Mam.” The comment was flicked in my direction as she turned and made her way upstairs.

  Josh was subdued. “Has she told you then, about her and Leo?” He wasn’t happy. He obviously thought he would have his nose pushed out. I had to sound nonchala
nt, it was just a passing phase, not to be taken too seriously, “Oh that, yes she has.”

  “Bloody cheek. He’s my friend, not hers.”

  I put my arm around him. “But just think, Josh, if Leo found himself a girlfriend other than Lucy, chances are he’d stop coming round so much, whereas with Lucy as his girlfriend, he’ll just come round as usual, probably more,” I said, while wondering if it were possible for him to come round more, given that he practically lives here anyway.

  “Well they’d better not have their tongues down each other’s throats in front of me or I’ll puke.”

  37

  THE MERCY MISSION

  I was jittery. It was more than possible the whole thing would turn into a complete, unmitigated disaster. Was I totally devoid of sense? I was promoting as a patting dog the scourge of my life; the idiot dog who swallowed Blu tack and tampons and who shredded every piece of post as it came through the door; promoting her as if she were normal.

  I looked through the rear view mirror. She was strapped in the back seat, wiggling her backside and smiling through the window at passers-by. If she could give them a wave she would. She loved being in the car. Thought she on was her way to the park or the beach every time. She was even clownish going to the vet’s. Most sensible dogs held back, needing to be lifted or coaxed out of the car, then once out they had to be dragged towards the doors with their tail between their legs and their ears flat against their head, as if they were going to the gallows. Not Millie. She had to be restrained, because at the vet’s there were other dogs to annoy and cats in baskets to bark at and shelves full of goodies to demolish. Thermometer up her bum! Yeah baby! Bring-it-on! And when other dogs and their owners (sensible ones), happen to come up against Tyson, the Bull Mastiff who goes around with the boys from the high-rise flats, they, sensibly, either flatten themselves up against a wall hoping to appear invisible, or else they turn tail and run. Not Millie. She bounds up and prances around Tyson hoping for some roll-about fun. He once, when she was a puppy, took her head in his huge mouth and thrashed her about a bit. I screamed, I thought she was about to be decapitated. But he let her go and strutted off. It was a warning not to mess with him and now he just seems bewildered by her nerve and nudges her out of the way with his great paws. And the boys, dead-pan, ganglander-like, nod in her direction and mutter,“Yo Millie, ree-spect.”

  I pulled up, got out, got the parking ticket then braced myself. Getting Millie out of the car was always something to be faced with trepidation. Managing it with some degree of restraint on her part and a smidgen of dignity on mine; in case of onlookers, was no mean feat. I opened the door on her side by about three inches and sneaked my hand in. Grabbing her collar I hooked the lead onto it and although looking for all the world as though I had complete control of the situation, I held on for grim death because once she’d leapt out of the car I knew that that’d be it, she’d drag me through the car park, through the hospital doors and down the corridors because today, she was on a mission. She didn’t know, nor did she care, what the mission was, she was just on it. She was too excited. I could tell. She would jump all over everyone taking me with her. It was going to be a disaster. These were elderly people for goodness sake, vulnerable. Decorum was the name of the game. The whole place would be in an uproar in seconds. Why did I think it would be any different? Had I been dropped on my head as a baby or what?

  We whizzed past reception, past the picture of the smiling, patting dog, lying at the feet of the smiling, tweed clad lady. We whizzed past the woman with the trolley who was bringing round the afternoon tea. Then three or four metres on, we suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Millie sniffed the air: biscuits. In seconds, we were reeling in an about turn, back to the tea trolley whereupon she skidded on her backside to a stop. She sat there, her eyes pleading for the woman to take pity on her and give her a biscuit. My heart was going like the clappers.

  “Aah, what does the doggy want? A biscy is it? A nice custard cream? Well sit nicely and Doreen will give you one. There, now give Doreen a kiss.” Doreen bent over Millie which was not a good move, and she got her kiss, a bit more than she had expected. She straightened up, blinked then fumbled around on her trolley for some antiseptic which she sprayed onto a tissue with which to wipe her face.

  But it worked. Millie was calmer, probably sensing that if she played her cards right, there might be more biscuits where that came from. We walked at a steady pace behind the trolley with Millie not diverting her eyes for a minute from the custard creams. I was beginning to feel hopeful, perhaps it might be possible my visit would not resemble a scene from a dog disaster movie after all. And so, with my newfound confidence we followed Doreen into the dayroom where some of the patients were gathered for afternoon tea.

  “What the…” one of the men exclaimed, not expecting to see a dog arriving with the tea trolley.

  All eyes were on us. “She’s a patting dog,” I said, by way of explanation in a voice so feeble it didn’t even convince me.

  “Well tell her to giz a pat then,” the man sneered.

  “You pat the dog, you daft bugger,” the man beside him said.

  “Why would I want to pat a bloody dog?” the first man said, “Bloody stupid.”

  Then they went back to watching the telly while they waited for Doreen to pour their tea.

  “I’ve never heard of a patting dog,” said one woman to another, “must be something new they’ve brought out. Is it a bit like a terrier?”

  The other woman shrugged. She didn’t know one dog from another and what’s more, she couldn’t care less.

  “It’s not a breed,” I said, “I’ve brought her in to see if anyone would like to give her a pat.”

  “Well that confirms it,” the first man said, “the lunatics are tekken ower the bloody asylum.”

  “I’ll pat her if you want?” a small voice chimed in, by way of doing me a favour. The woman belonging to the voice shuffled over and gave Millie a token pat. “Why do you want her to be patted?”

  It was a perfectly sane question, it just turned everything on its head.

  They were looking at me as if I had just been released into the community.“I’m not sure now. It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said, making for the door and more than sure it was not a good idea now.

  Well that went down like a concrete parachute, I thought, as I made my way to the ladies’ quarters to see my mother and Nell, and then, I decided, I’d take Millie home, with my tail between my legs, so to speak. So much for my good intentions.

  I was walking in the direction of my mother’s room, when a man in a white coat came along the corridor towards me. He looked vaguely familiar.

  “Oh,” he said, as he got nearer, “so you’re the dog lady and this must be the dog. Nurse Ali told me you were planning a visit.”

  Dog lady!

  He bent down and stroked Millie who, with her usual uninhibited gay abandon, lay on her back with her legs in the air. He laughed. “She’s a little sweetie, my Barney would love her, so he would.” He rubbed her belly then straightened up, “Well I might see you both again sometime. Bye then.”

  I hurried on. So I’m now the bloody dog lady!

  Millie bounded onto my mother’s knee, knocking her glasses off it. My mother had been dozing and was a bit stunned.

  “Oops, sorry, Mam, she just took off when she saw it was you.”

  “That’s all right, Joanne. I’m pleased to see her. It makes me realise how much I’m missing home.”

  Nell came over, sat on my mother’s bed and fussed the dog. “Do you know, Joanne?” Nell said, “Millie is just like a dog I had when I was young, Mitzi her name was. I loved that dog, she meant the world to me. Will you bring Millie in again so that we can get better acquainted?”

  “Course I will,” I said, without any conviction whatsoever.

 
I called over to Bella, “Fancy giving Millie a pat while we’re here, Bella?”

  “I’ll pass on that, Joanne, no offence, but me and dogs have a healthy respect for one another, we stay clear of each other.”

  Ruth was in the television room. Nell had cheered up no end, which had been the object of the exercise, and surprisingly, chaos hadn’t reigned. My mother though, now looked a bit down in the dumps, as she said, she was missing home. I sat on her bed with Millie at my feet and poured some juice into a paper cup. I took my mother’s hand and said, “It won’t be long before we have you home, Mam.”

  “I do hope so, Joanne,” she sighed.

  “Well, hel-lo Sailor,” said Bella, loudly and as salaciously as somebody with no teeth in; could. We turned, Sam Pickles, with his bandy legs and cheeky grin was striding over to us bearing a People’s Friend and a Fry’s Peppermint Cream.

  “As you were, ladies. Don’t mind me. Well, who have we here, then?” he said, bending down to stroke Millie. As Sam stroked the dog, Nell quietly made her way back to her own easy chair.

  On seeing Sam, my mother cheered up. I was about to make my excuses and leave them when she beckoned me to come closer.

  “Joanne,” she whispered, “I’ve something important to tell you when you come in tomorrow.” She gave Sam a secretive little smile.

  38

  COMPLIMENTS AND COMPLICATIONS

  It was still early in the afternoon when I got home, the kids not yet back from school. The men were clearing away their tools, finished for the day and Dale asked me if I would like to check the work they’d done. I had left them mid-morning drinking tea, playing loud music and shouting to each other from room to room, yet, as ever, their productivity was amazing. The bathroom suite was fitted and working and looking fabulous, the floor was laid in the bedroom, everything was ready for the decorators and tilers to start work the next day and then it would just be the cosmetic stuff and the cleaning to finish. I was thrilled. It was even better than I had imagined it would be. Dale was happy to see me so pleased.