by Martha Long
Right! Out with the curlers and on with a white high-necked Victorian blouse and a black dress. Eleanor thought it was a jumper. I stared down at my matchstick legs smothered in a pair of winter black tights. Not bad. Could be worse! Then I lifted the front of my hair and gathered up the lot, pinning it back with a ruby-encrusted slide I bought in Harrods. The only thing I bought there! Now for a dab of Christian Dior perfume behind the ears in case I think of something sweet and interesting to whisper in the monk’s ear. Hmm, if I can distract him from the blonde!
Then I raced into the bathroom to get a look at myself. Grand! The hair looks classy and Victorian, with the neck encased in the lovely blouse. A black silver-buckled clip-together belt wrapped around my waist and black Italian slip-on shoes finish the look. Not bad! Pity about the legs, though. They need a bit of feeding for the shape. I lifted my shoulders, taking a deep sigh of satisfaction – I hadn’t seen myself looking nice for a long time – and wafted out to find the monk.
Everyone was standing and sitting around waiting. A few visitors were talking to the patients. One of them turned to smile at me. I lifted my chin, giving a smile, not really interested. No sign of the monk, or the blonde for that matter! I wonder where they are?
‘Hello!’ the visitor said, making her way over to me. She had steel-grey hair, cropped short like a man, with a long pointed nose and an anaemic, narrow, sharp-looking face.
A nun! I thought, looking down at her long grey skirt with the white blouse and small cross pinned to her grey cardigan. You can tell them a mile away. Now that they’ve given up the habit and taken to exposing their heads and showing their tree-trunk legs, they still can’t disguise the fact they are all nuns let loose. They have that haunted-and-hunted look on their face, and in their eyes. That tells you they have never lived in the real world. Their eyes lack depth, and their manner is simpering, letting you see they are emotionally girlish and even naive. But then again, I have met some who could rule the world, they are so strong and powerful! And very well up in the ways of the world. But not too many!
‘I’m Sister Joan,’ she said, handing me her limp white hand to shake.
I grabbed it, giving it a good shake to wake her up. She looked a bit dozy, with her lazy ‘I have all the time in the world to listen to your problems’ face. She leaned her head towards me, dropping it sideways, smiling, and said, ‘What is your name?’
‘Nelly Dean!’ I said, giving her a poker face.
‘Oh! What a lovely name,’ she simpered, reminding me of the kind of snotty-nose kid I wanted to kick up the arse because they were so spoilt. ‘I haven’t heard that name for many a long year.’
I smiled with my chin lifted, saying, ‘Yes! It’s a family tradition. From the matriarchal line. At least one female is always called Nelly. After a great aunt! Back in . . . Oh, I don’t know, some time in the 1700s. She was hanged for cutting her husband up into a lot of little pieces.’ I shook my head, staring at her, then shaking my head again in disbelief, thinking about it.
She kept nodding her head up and down, her eyes bulging at me, looking very serious, and couldn’t wait to hear was there more.
‘Yes!’ I said sadly. ‘But that wasn’t the end of it. Another Nelly brought a meat cleaver to the confessional box and made mincemeat out of the priest for telling her she had to put up with her husband’s brutality.’ I leaned into her just as she choked on a breath, her mouth open and her eyes bulging.
‘He gave her twenty-three children,’ I whispered, shaking my head and staring into her eyes. She held her chest. ‘And it was after the last one!’ I gasped. ‘Straight after she was churched, you know!’ I said, puffing out a breath in disbelief. ‘You know, Sister? When they had had a baby, they weren’t allowed to move out of the house, not even cook, until they were blessed by the priest. It was called churching, because women were dirty! They had sex to have the baby. Shocking!’ I gasped.
‘Yes!’ she gasped. ‘I have heard of that old tradition.’
I stared at her head going up and down and all round, supported by her left shoulder. She looked mesmerised. ‘I’m the last Nelly!’ I said. ‘The ma thinks the name will die out in the family, especially after me!’ I slapped my chest in disgust. ‘She thinks it’s an unlucky name!’
‘Yes!’ she said, losing her breath, nodding hypnotically. I was staring so much, fascinated by her reaction, I felt like nodding in unison.
‘So have you, eh, had some misfortune?’ she asked me, shaking her head the one way now, up and down. Her eyes looking very sympathetic.
‘Ah! Indeed I have,’ I said, looking very sad. ‘I thought all nuns were really the banshee and were out to get me! I had a compulsion to get them first, you know?’ I said, watching her eyes blink, then cool down, the heat from the excitement of my family history rapidly vanishing and alarm bells going off in her head, making her eyes guarded. Then she straightened up and looked around the room, making sure she wasn’t alone with the patients, and eased herself away from me, trying not to alarm me. She kept sort of smiling, but her mouth didn’t open, and it certainly didn’t reach her eyes.
‘Yes! Well, it was nice talking to you all,’ she said, waving at us and heading down to the desk, interrupting the nurses in the middle of an argument. They were arguing about who had to come down with us to supervise. No one wanted to go.
‘Ah, Esther! I was down there the last two times. No! It’s your turn now. I have to get these reports done! Look!’ and she banged her hand on a sheaf of papers, blowing the hair out of her eyes and looking like she would throw the lot of them at Esther, who was taking no notice of your woman. She was busy examining the size of her fat arse. She leaned herself back, craning her neck.
‘Do you think my bottom’s too big?’ she asked, turning the other way for a better look.
‘And you’ll have help from what’s his name,’ Orla rambled, staring at her mound of papers, taking no notice of Esther’s fat arse. ‘Yeah! Your man, the Russian monk!’ she said, lifting her head to Fat-arse, then looking down at the papers again, hoping they’d vanished. Then she started to rub her belly, saying, ‘Ooh! I think I’ll ask Sister for the afternoon off. I don’t feel well,’ she moaned, getting lost in her own world, staring miserably at her papers and hoping for a way out.
‘Oh, all right then! But get them moving,’ Fat-arse suddenly said, straightening herself up.
I was listening and started to make for the door. The nun was standing around the desk, waiting for one of the nurses to let her out, and she moved closer to the nurse, not making eye contact with me. She was busy examining the floor, feeling my eyes boring into her. That’ll give her something to think about! I was dying to laugh out loud and tell her I was joking, but I think she’s beyond that. She looks like she could do with a sweet cup of tea, or maybe something stronger.
Bleedin nuns live in cloud-cuckoo land, with no idea about what goes on in people’s lives. I suddenly lifted my arm and shouted, ‘Yehoo! Sister! Will ye come and see me again? I don’t get many visitors, not since the last time anyway!’
Her eyes searched mine, hers looking really haunted.
‘Did I tell you? I got a black belt in karate! That’s probably why they had me in lock-up for so long,’ I said, looking mournful and thoughtful. ‘I was only practising that time! But . . .’
‘Goodbye now!’ she said, waving at me, her head swinging around to look for the nurse and get the bloody hell out of this place.
I stood looking quite benign, my hands joined together at my waist, a pleasant smile on my face. Then I gave a big sigh, looking around me, knowing she was keeping an eye on me.
The rest of the pack, a priest and another grey-haired nun, came rambling up to the door, shouting, ‘Goodbye now!’ and waving like we were all lunatics, very pleased with themselves they had done their good works. One of the nurses let them out, and my nun was down the stairs and way ahead of the others as soon as the door was opened.
‘I’m ready!’
‘Are we going yet?’ she sang in her little girl’s voice, giggling like an eegit.
‘I think we’re probably waiting for the “Queer Fella”,’ I said, feeling savage with that monk.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked, grinning at me.
‘The Russian monk,’ I muttered.
‘Ohh! He’s gorgeous!’ she said, looking around for him.
‘He’s not interested in women,’ I said. ‘One of the nurses told me he’s gay! Just pretends to like the women!’
‘No! I don’t believe a word of it!’ yer woman nearly choked. I watched her face turning sour, letting her eyes wander off to picture the monk locked in a mad clinch with another monk, kicking off their sandals and wrestling out of their brown habits.
‘Yep,’ I said, looking very disappointed. ‘I was after him myself, you know.’
‘Really?’ she said, hanging on to her pendant and looking very worried altogether. Too much was happening too soon!
‘Well, I’m not really all that interested,’ she said, looking around to see if she could see him. ‘I’m very happily married,’ she said, giving a mournful look at the rings on her fingers. The diamonds on that engagement ring would give you epilepsy, it was so glittering. Then she sniffed, looked down at her sexy trousers, and said, lifting her head and throwing it around the room again, looking even more desperate, ‘My husband gives me everything! Of course, he’s getting on in age. He was sixty when I married him. I was only twenty-eight!’
‘God! That must be twenty years ago,’ I said, looking her up and down, saying, ‘You really are a lovely-looking woman!’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Do you think so?’ she said, sticking out her chest and feeling her arse.
‘Absolutely! You would never think you were just around the corner from being fifty!’
‘EXCUSE ME! I will have you know I’m only in my early FORTIES!!’
‘What’s happenin? Wha are ye’s all shoutin about?’ Maggie planted herself between the two of us and stood gaping with her jaw hanging down, her eyes bulging from me to Blondie.
‘Do I look fifty to you, Maggie?’ Blondie roared, her face looking shocked, with her nose letting out air, then sucking in more air through her mouth, leaving her nose wide open and rigid.
‘No! Who said tha?’ Maggie’s head swung slowly around, landing her eyes on me, looking very suspicious and waiting for me to give an answer.
‘Ah, no! I didn’t mean you look old!’
‘Here!’ Maggie roared. ‘You shouldn’t be talkin! Look at the state a you! You’re neither fish nor fowl! Sure, wha man would look at the likes a you?’
‘Don’t you bloody well dare insult me!’ I screamed. ‘You aul hag!’ I snorted, knowing full well I was in the wrong, but feeling demented at the thought it was really showing now just how bad I was looking.
‘Who are you callin an aul hag, you dyin-lookin cow? Hold me back before I kill her!’ screamed Maggie, waving her massive arms like pendulums.
Blondie started screaming laughing, and all the other patients started shuffling over to get a better look. The nurses dropped their papers and came rushing over, grabbing Maggie, and looking from one to the other of us.
I was examining my nails, and Blondie said, ‘Poor Maggie is having one of her turns, Nurse.’
‘Who started this row?’ Esther asked, looking at me, her eyes glaring. ‘Did you upset Maggie, Martha?’
‘No! I was just standing here minding my own business.’
‘What is the problem here? Ladies! Ladies, please! You have to behave yourselves,’ said the monk, swaggering over, taking his time and bringing his hands together like he was going to pray with all the elegance of an aristocrat.
Blondie’s head shot around, her eyes sparkling, and she grinned at him as he made his way over, making to put his hand on Maggie and the other one on Blondie.
‘Why do you all make this fuss?’ he said, looking gently down at Maggie, leaning his face into her. Blondie dropped her hip into him, laughing, and wrapped her arm around his strong, ample, built-like-a-bull waist. The fucking cheek!
My heart was going like the clappers from the excitement of seeing him and the fury at Blondie fuck-face smooching up to him! And they were not taking a blind bit of notice of me! I couldn’t allow myself to lose dignity, so I snorted and marched off to wait at the door. Then I turned and screamed, ‘Nurse! Would you kindly get on with your job and take us down to this bloody therapy place?’
‘Take it easy, madam!’ Orla snorted, marching over and taking out her keys. ‘Ready, Esther? Take them down before there’s a riot!’
The other nurse turned and shouted, ‘Stay together, please. I don’t want any of you lot straying off!’
We all shuffled up behind her, me breathing heavily down the back of her neck with the excitement, my eyes glued on the key turning in the lock. Then we were out the door. The big exodus was started! I shot past Esther, my legs going like the clappers down the stairs.
‘Back here, please!’ Esther roared, pointing her finger at me to stay behind.
39
* * *
We all shuffled down behind her, watching our step. People still not awake yet walked into others, and some not even moving were getting walked into from behind. It was a nerve-racking business. I was trying not to get landed over the spiral staircase with the heaving bodies behind me. Some people were impatient and heaved the crowd forward, sending me collapsing onto the back of Esther. I was flattened against the staircase, then lifted up into the air like a blown-up doll. She grabbed the banisters, and I hung on to her meaty neck. I was hanging over backwards and tightened my grip on Esther’s neck. I could see I was throttling her; her face was turning purple. She dug her elbows into me, fighting for air, a hissing sound coming out of her mouth. I wouldn’t let go. Her neck was the only thing between me and a sailing through the air, ending in my sudden death.
‘Help!’ I squeaked, trying as well to get my legs wrapped around her. My arse was now waving in the air. ‘Jaysus! She’s going to send me flying!’ I croaked, laughing hysterically with the fright, hearing squeaking noises coming out of my mouth. Then she managed to pull forward, and I went with her, then let go as she disappeared under the mass of these bleedin zombies.
I was determined not to go down, and used Esther’s arse as a springboard and dived up for air. She came up with me, bracing herself like the Incredible Hulk, sending me flying against the banisters again! I screamed in fright, instinctively grabbing a hold of her collar with one hand and wrapping my other hand around her neck.
‘Why do you not fucking watch where ye’re going!’ I screamed in terror, right into Esther’s ear.
‘Let go! For God’s sake, you’re strangling me!’
I was off the ground again, me clinging to her like a monkey. My legs getting swung around as she tried to free herself. She was clinging to the banisters.
The crowd pushed past, pinning us over the staircase. I was looking down, seeing the distance I would fall.
‘Ah! Help!’ I dug my feet into her, twirled myself around, letting her go, and I was balancing myself on the stairs, grabbing hold of one of the bodies on the way down, and was now on the move again with the heaving mass.
‘I’m too bloody light! This skinny body will be the death of me yet!’ I gasped, feeling all the blood draining out of me. ‘I’m too easily pushed around. I’m light as a feather,’ I jabbered to no one. I was shaking like a jelly.
‘Get back here! Wait!’ spluttered Esther, trying to scream. She croak
ed, coughed and tried to get her breath, the veins standing out on her neck. Her face was purple. ‘You are all going back up to the ward if you do not do as you are told!’ Then she stood up, holding her chest, it was heaving up and down, her nostrils flaring five times their normal size. Then she straightened her hat, jamming it on her head, pulled down her frock and pulled the buckle back to the front. We all stared at her.
‘Now!’ she croaked, pushing her way to the front. I was in the middle of the bunch. ‘Walk in single file!’
We all shuffled into line, politely letting other people get there first. No one said a word. Not wanting to be locked back up in the ward. I flew back to the end. The line was now orderly, people now alert, fear in some of their eyes after seeing Esther and me doing the dance of death! Everyone was watching their step and letting the other person in front get down a step before moving.
We made it to the bottom. Then the quick shuffle started again! Cigarettes were pulled out of boxes and handed around. People feeling magnanimous at the thought of our day out. For some of us it was the first time we had been let out. This was an earned privilege!
We walked along passages with glass from ceiling to floor, looking out onto the beautiful courtyard. Then we arrived into a big room. It stretched for about a mile! On the left, we passed little office boxes with glass surrounds. Men wearing white coats and grey suits sat nattering and chatting up the nurses, who sucked in their cheeks, gazing out into the distance, trying to make themselves look interesting and pretend they weren’t interested, but taking in every word and smirking at each other, delighted to have all the men to themselves.
We filed past and their heads shot around to take us in. I could see their eyes narrowing, looking out for the troublemakers, and mentally doing a head count. Then their eyes wandered over to the patients sitting along the benches busily painting masterpieces or doing jigsaws. Some were knitting or making baskets.
I wandered over to talk to an intelligent-looking man with grey hair and glasses sitting on his nose. He was reading a book, then suddenly he stopped to have a conversation with the walls. ‘It is all the same! All the same,’ he said, waving the book around the room. Then he looked up at the ceiling, saying, ‘Heavens above! Only I know this; indeed it is I, Lord!’ Then he thumped his chest and examined his book again, to read a bit more. I was just about to move off when he lifted his head, staring straight at me. ‘Are you the messenger?’ he barked at me.
