by David Carter
Gringo smiled again and was happy to see her smiling back through her light blue eyes.
‘Okay, ask away, there’s no harm in questions.’
She nodded and glanced down at her board.
‘Have you had any of these diseases? Hepatitis?’
‘Nope.’
She ticked the form.
‘Aids?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Cancer?’
‘No, and hopefully it stays that way.’
‘Severe asthma?’
‘No.’
‘Bleeding disorders?’
‘No-oo.’
‘Heart disease?’
‘Nope.’
He was beginning to enjoy this mid afternoon interlude.
‘Jaundice?’
‘No.’
‘Are you taking any drugs, either prescription, over the counter, or banned.’
‘Do I look like a druggie?’
‘Please answer the question, Mister Greene.’
‘Certainly not, the odd paracetamol is about it.’
She was still ticking her form, and he was still a runner.
‘Malaria?’
‘Nope. Wouldn’t it be easier to ask what diseases I have had?’
‘We have our systems, Mister Greene, and I cannot change them just for you.’
Gringo looked exaggeratedly sheepish at her rebuke.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound over officious.’
He grinned; a half smile that suggested she continued.
‘Abnormal blood pressure?’
‘Nope.’
Another tick, how many more questions could there be?
‘And you haven’t recently been subject to surgical procedures?’
‘Thankfully not.’
‘Well, I’m pleased to inform you, you have passed the first stage in your donor programme.’
Up until then Gringo had been unaware he’d been on such a thing.
‘Can I make an appointment for you?’
‘You still haven’t told me what it entails.’
‘You mean you want to know all the ins and outs?’
Gringo smiled at that, and at her, and she smiled back.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘As you wish,’ and she began parroting from some official documentation speak. ‘Before you donate blood the nurse will check your blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. You will lie down on a bed and he or she will tighten a wrapping, called a tourniquet, onto your upper arm to increase the pressure on the veins so they swell. This makes it easier to identify the larger veins and to insert the needle into the vein. The nurse will then clean the area where the needle is to be inserted with an antiseptic wash, then insert a large needle into the vein. You will feel a slight sting as the needle goes in, but the rest of the procedure should be quite painless. The blood flows through a tube into a sterile plastic bag that holds around one pint of blood, which we call a unit. People usually donate one unit at a time. The average man has ten to twelve pints of blood in his body so you can comfortably spare a pint. A small sample of your blood will also be set aside for testing for infectious diseases. No blood is used until all tests have shown it to be safe. So as you can see it can be good for you too, because you get an automatic check up to make sure that you are up to the mark. Can I sign you up now?’
A slight sting, thought Gringo, it sounded to him like typical medical profession understatement.
‘Not yet. What happens afterwards?’
‘Some patients may feel a little light-headed when they first stand up. You will be given juice to drink and as I said before, if you are very lucky, a chocolate biscuit. This aids replacing fluids and increases your blood sugar levels. You will also be told to drink plenty of liquids to replace lost fluids and to avoid strenuous activity for the remainder of the day.’
Strenuous activity, mmm.
‘You may feel a trifle sore around the area where the needle was inserted, that is quite normal, and there is a very slight chance of infection in the area if it wasn't well cleaned before the needle was inserted. Your blood volume will return to normal within hours afterwards, providing you follow the guidelines for drinking liquids. May I sign you up now, Mister Greene?’ and for the first time he detected a slight note of frustration in her voice.
‘I don’t like the sound of that much.’
‘Of what?’ she said, nearing the end of her patience.
‘The infection bit.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that. Long odds against.’
‘You hear such strange stories.’
‘Princess Alexandra’s consistently tops the league tables.’
‘Will you be there to look after me?’
What was it about big strong men that they needed to be looked after, as if they were constantly on the look out for some kind of surrogate mother?
‘If I looked after you personally can I then sign you up?’
‘Yes,’ he said, though he could hardly believe he had.
‘Fine!’ she said, completing her form. ‘Four o’ clock on Thursday, your employer has already agreed to the early finish. I’ll see you there,’ and she gave him a card with the details, ‘and one other thing, Mister Greene.’
‘Yes, Nurse Drayton,’ he said, reading her ID badge.
‘Don’t chicken out, and it’s Staff Nurse Drayton to be exact.’
Gringo smiled at her little rebuke.
‘I’ll be there, Staff Nurse Drayton.’
‘We shall see.’
‘Is this normal, this hard selling exercise, to come round offices touting for business?’
‘We are very short of blood, Mister Greene, what else can we do? We have a big push on to try and replenish stocks, unfortunately not enough citizens are aware of their responsibilities, it’s a case of needs must, we wouldn’t normally come round in full uniform, but stats prove that wearing uniforms always produces far better results.’
Gringo could believe that.
‘I can usually talk guys into signing up.’
He could believe that too.
‘That’s about everything,’ she said, standing and smoothing down her smart uniform, before heading out, leaving one last comment behind her. ‘Don’t forget.’
Forty
That night on the way home Gringo bought a whole cooked chicken from his local Co-op store, and a fresh crusty loaf, and sat at the kitchen table and pulled the unfortunate creature to pieces, eating far more of it than he should have done. Afterwards, he belched loudly and washed his hands and when he’d finished the phone rang.
‘Nineteen sixty-six!’
‘Thank you for that,’ said Sarah softly. ‘Do you have to yell so?’
‘Sorry. What news from afar?’
‘Well, you were right, Gringo.’
‘There was never any doubt in my mind.’
‘I am really surprised, I have to say.’
‘So what did Ronnie say, exactly?’
‘His company has won a huge contract to build a grain storage facility in the Gulf. It’s guaranteed work on a great rate of pay for four years. He’s bought a brand new house right on the beach on the back of it, it looks fabulous, I wish you could see it, and to top it all, he’s proposed marriage, and asked me to move out there.’
‘Lucky you, Sarah, two proposals in one week.’
‘Ah yes, but yours wasn’t a genuine one.’
‘Of course it was! Do you think I go round asking women to marry me left right and centre?’
‘You only said it on the spur of the moment, Gringo. Let’s not pretend otherwise.’
‘If you had said yes, I would have married you, Sarah, that’s a serious offer in my book.’
Yet as he spoke the words he wondered the truth of it.
‘It would never have worked, Gringo. You know that, as well as I do. We’ve been through all this before.’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘I’ve already told you why no
t.’
‘So you’ve said yes… to this Ronnie geezer?’
‘Of course I have. A girl needs some security; some guarantees for the future, some companionship in later life, and Ronnie offers me all of those things.’
‘So when are you going?’
‘I’m trying to tie everything up for next week.’
‘Next week! You don’t let the grass grow.’
‘I don’t think I told you I had an offer from a property developer for my building. I wasn’t even going to look at it before, and it isn’t a great offer, but it will enable me to settle all my debts, and still have a little nest egg left over. I accepted their offer this afternoon. The hardest part was telling the men. They all looked mortified, as if I had murdered their mothers.’
‘That’s life, kid. Don’t worry about it. Sometimes on the rocky road of business you have to look out for number one. That’s all you did.’
‘Thanks for saying that, Gringo. That’s how I thought about it. If they had received a better job offer from someone up the road, do you think they would have stuck by me? Of course they wouldn’t, so all’s fair in business, so it seems.’
‘Listen, why don’t you come over this evening for one last tryst? I could make a big fuss of you, four hours of concentrated personal attention; give you something to remember me by.’
‘It’s a tempting offer, Gringo, but I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘It wouldn’t be right.’
‘Go on, live dangerously, you know you want to. We could imagine we’d first met like we did at the Hamilton Hotel; I could take you upstairs… just like the first time. Remember?’
There was the briefest of silences and Gringo guessed she was mulling it over. He thought she was weakening and tried again.
‘Come along, lover, one last time for old time’s sake.’
‘No Gringo! I can’t! It wouldn’t be right! It wouldn’t be fair on Ronnie. Sorry Gringo, but I just can’t! You look after yourself, and find yourself a decent young woman. I’ll send you a card. Bye!’
He was left staring at the dead phone. She hadn’t even stayed on the line long enough to enable him to wish her well and say his goodbyes. Ah well, one train leaves the station, but three more are pulling in. Life always has its little compensations. Glenda was due to ring later. On Thursday he had his bloody date with the promising Staff Nurse Drayton, and on Friday he would take another crack at melting the heart of Ms Cairncross. Life wasn’t so bad. Life was what you made of it.
Not for the first time, Maria didn’t rate a thought.
Gringo cleaned up the kitchen and settled down in front of the TV, something he tried hard not to do, but it was still the same old drivel. Quiz shows bad enough to make you want to puke, reality TV that was totally divorced from reality, cartoons to entertain adults, which in his eyes was a contradiction in terms, motoring programmes that had precious little to do with high street motoring, American situation comedies with canned laughter and no laughs, compilations of the hundred greatest this or that, that everyone had seen a million times before, rolling news, rolling rolling rolling, a volcano had farted in the Andes and had upset the local mule population, a wild life film where every creature was desperate to devour live and whole, everything else, and ten dreadful channels offering to flog you junk you never needed. What kind of doped up apes watched this nonsense? That was probably being unkind to the apes.
The phone rang at half past ten and that came as something of light relief. Formalities duly over and in the next second he could hear Glen as clear as if she were speaking from the local pay phone.
‘Gringo?’
‘That’s me.’
‘What you said last night… did you mean it?’
‘Course I did. Every word.’
‘And I’d have my own room?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you won’t tell anyone?’
‘My lips are sealed. I’ve never been a kiss and tell merchant.’
‘I know that, Gringo. And we would just be sharing, like friends?’
‘Yes! If that’s what you want.’
‘It is Gringo. It is.’
‘Well, that’s how it will be.’
‘In that case, Gringo, I’d like to accept. I’d love to come home.’
He adored that, even if she hadn’t meant it as he took it, describing coming to live with him as home.
‘Great. When?’
‘Sunday night.’
‘That quick? Jeez, that’s sooner than I thought.’
‘Is that a problem, is it inconvenient? Do you have someone there?’
‘No, no, not at all, I can do Sunday night.’
‘The plane arrives at Heathrow at midnight, your time. Terminal 5, British Airways. You will be there to meet me, won’t you, Gringo?’
‘Of course I will. I said so, didn’t I?’
‘It’s just that if you’re not there, I’ll have nowhere to go. I’m skint, you see, all spent up.’
‘I’ll be there, Heathrow, Sunday at midnight.’
‘That’s right. Thanks; you’re a real friend, look forward to seeing you, I’ll tell you all my news then, I have to go now, bye-eee.’
For the second time that night he was left staring at a dead telephone. Why had she hung up so abruptly? Heathrow, Terminal 5, Sunday at midnight, he pondered, and then he remembered the state of the front bedroom. He stood up and sprinted to the top of the house and threw open the door. Everything he saw he hated.
The bedside lights, the duvet cover, the pillow cases, the pictures on the walls, the rug at the end of the bed, everything now seemed dreadful. It would have to go, the whole lot of it. He wasn’t even that fussed with the bedside tables and the wardrobe, but she would have to put up with those. The next day was Saturday and he’d head for the out of town shopping park and pick up loads of goodies. He might even buy some paint.
Forty-One
On Sunday night he left early for the airport. This was one appointment he did not want to foul up. The spare bedroom was now suitably refreshed and during the drive he went over it in his mind. It had cost him a small fortune, he’d lost touch with how much quality items really cost. True, he could have done it to a similar standard with cheaper things, but if he could tell the difference then he imagined that Glen would too.
It was eleven o’clock when he arrived, though it didn’t seem to make any difference what time of day or night one came to these places, everywhere was mad busy. He parked the car and found the right place. Armed police were everywhere, security never sleeps, and travelling was supposed to be fun. He accosted a pretty girl decked out in the airline’s uniform, and she pointed him toward the information desks where he scanned the arrivals’ monitors. The plane was running on time according to the yellow figures, less than an hour to go. He bought a coffee and a fat Sunday newspaper and found a seat, and though he read the words his brain refused to assimilate the information. He set the newspaper down and five minutes later someone asked him if they could borrow it.
‘Keep it, mate,’ said Gringo, finishing the coffee and already back on his feet. He tossed the cup into a bin and began pacing up and down, as he listened out for announcements that seemed to refer to flights from every known point on the planet, except hers.
Sometimes in life time really does stand still. Waiting for a loved one at an airport is one of them. Every time he glanced at his watch or the array of time tellers scattered about the building, they seemed to have barely changed. Perhaps they were all lying, playing a cruel joke on all those confused and excited people dallying there.
Come along!
It seemed hours later when finally there was movement and action at the appropriate gate. People waiting were suddenly paying closer attention. Shorter people stood on tiptoe. The waiting crowds had grown thicker. Gringo hadn’t noticed those people gathering there, they just seemed to materialise out of nowhere. He moved closer too. Word went round the plane had landed. Peopl
e were beginning to wander from the time tunnel before them, some in a daze; others bright and excited with that expectant look fixed on their faces, a picture you only ever see at airports and railways stations.
Then he saw her.
He spotted her immediately, long before she saw him. She moved with a gentle swaying movement, her tall slender figure covering the floor with minimal movement of her legs, so it seemed. No one on earth adored the colour black more than Glenda Martin, with the possible exception of Gringo himself. She was wearing a lightweight black suit, what else? Skirt and jacket, very businesslike, and quite unlike most of her companions, many of whom appeared as if they were returning from an energetic jog along Brighton promenade, sweaty and exhausted.
Gringo thought she looked serene. Perhaps dressed like that she’d been hoping for an upgrade. Her white face was framed by black bob-cut hair, newly American styled, hellishly cute he thought, even at this distance, while her emerald eyes were shielded from the garish lights by newly acquired designer wrap around sunglasses. Probably helped her sleep on the plane.
Then she spotted him. Her face broke into a smile and she pointed to the end of the barrier. In the next moment she was through and free, tugging her bags behind her, coming toward him, as he hurried for her. He leapt forward and wrapped his arms round her slim body and squeezed her as if he’d never squeezed anyone before. If she was taken aback by the greeting she didn’t show it, too busy was she returning the embrace. No kisses, just a mammoth two way hug.
‘Welcome home, bonnie lass,’ he whispered.
‘It’s good to be home, Gringo.’
He hugged her again for good measure, and then set her down.
‘What’s with the glasses?’
‘Do you like them?’
‘I’d rather see your eyes.’
She slipped the sun specs from her face and somehow her eyes widened, but it wasn’t her eyes he was now seeing. There was a cut on her left eyebrow like something sustained in a middleweight title fight. The surrounds of her eyes were black and blue and the whites of both were bloodshot.
‘What the fuck’s going on here?’ he snapped, grabbing her chin between finger and thumb and turning it for closer inspection.
