THE SILENT STRIKER

by Pete Kalu

  Even worse. Send me a pic

  He sent her a selfie

  Nice bedrum posters. U luk bad what hapd 2 your hair? It all mushed.

  Was lyin in bed we lost gess its not the end ov da world.

  Best chek tho? Luk out yr window! (This came with a pic of Adele with her hair all flicked up and wild eyed horror stare)

  Marcus laughed.

  C ya

  PASS THE KETCHUP

  Mum yelled, ‘Come get your tea, Marky!’ He came down. The hearing test letter was on his mind but he wasn’t sure anyone wanted to listen. He sat at the table with his mum, dad and sister and tucked into the spaghetti bolognese. As usual, nobody actually talked to anyone else at the table.

  ‘I’m not getting any decent leads,’ Mum was saying to no-one in particular. ‘If I got decent leads … They’re giving me the old lists. The stiffs. The Moveds. The Refused-Credits. And the call centre goons are promising fifty per cent discount. I have to double the start price to cover that. I’m slipping down the chart … Maybe I should go blonde, maybe that would work better on the doorsteps, what do you think, J?’

  ‘I think Leah might have the singing talent,’ said Dad. ‘She takes after her dad. She was singing in her bath this morning. She was so happy. I’m feeling lucky today, gonna buy a lottery ticket.’

  Mum kept on with her own monologue. ‘My boss you know, she can kiss me where-the-sun-don’t-shine. Reason I’m sinking down that chart is cos she gives me duff leads. Last week it was a caravan site. Would you believe? A caravan site? To sell double glazing? I phoned and told her right off, heads will roll, wasting my time. She blamed a postcode mix-up, said try them anyway, they might have friends with houses, could be holiday homes. Ridiculous. Meanwhile Derek got the housing association pitch. I mean Derek? I won’t diss him but that mumbler? Pitching for four thousand windows and a three year maintenance contract? My God, you know something’s going on between them. If he’s getting that pitch, the broom cupboard’s been busy. I’ve had enough, I’m working on my vanishing act. Then kazoom! I’m gone. And I’m keeping the laptop. They owe it me, the amount of unpaid overtime I’m putting in. It’s the least they owe me. Who wants more spaghetti?’

  ‘Does anyone want to know what I did today?’ Marcus said.

  ‘You did go to school, right?’ probed Mum.

  ‘Gaga dadodadagoo!’ said Leah.

  ‘Did you hear that? She just said Dada!’ said Dad. ‘That’s because I’m spending all my time looking after her while others traipse around caravan parks on hopeless double glazing calls. She knows who does the looking after in this house. Say it again, cutie. “Dada. Dada.”’

  ‘Gagadoda dodagoo!’ said Leah.

  ‘There’s a clever girl!’

  ‘Oh, beam me up, Scottie,’ said Mum.

  Marcus gave up on his parents. He turned to Leah. ‘I’m going to tell you what I did today, Leah,’ he said. Leah gave him a rice pudding smile.

  ‘What I did was—’

  ‘Marcus eat your dinner before it gets cold. I’m expecting Bones,’ said Dad.

  Marcus groaned. Bones was Dad’s mate. If Bones sat with them, Marcus would get up and leave and his dad knew it. All Bones ever spoke about was how much money there was in loading his wagon with butchers’ scrap bones. When he visited their house the stench of rotting bones didn’t leave for weeks.

  ‘The baby will be asleep soon,’ said Mum, ‘I might try some leafleting.’

  ‘What’s up?’ said Dad.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Marcus.

  ‘You are worthy, son. You are related to an African Chief. We are not council estate trash. We are royalty. Pass the ketchup.’

  THE SOUND BOOTH

  It was the morning of his hearing test. He got into his uniform, grabbed a bowl of cereal and tried to sneak away. His mum blocked his way at the front door.

  ‘Marcus, it’s your hospital appointment isn’t it, for your ears? I’m coming with you.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You searched my room,’ Marcus snapped. ‘You’re not coming.’

  His mum looked at him and shuddered. ‘I know you’re a big boy now,’ she said, ‘but I’m your mother and I can’t bear not to be there with you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It says on the letter you have to take an adult.’

  ‘Move out of the way, Mum. You’re. Not. Coming.’

  ‘You can’t do this to me, you can’t be so cruel. I’m your mother!’

  Her breathing was getting jerky again, like she might have an asthma attack. Marcus relented and immediately felt frustrated: Why did his mum always get her way?

  ‘Alright, you can come but you’re saying nothing. Not a word.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Ah!’

  ‘Fine. From now till when we get back, I’ll say nothing.’ Marcus headed out, with his mum shadowing him four paces behind like a bad detective film.

  He trudged on, remembering. When the appointment letter had come through the door, Mum had asked what the letter said. He told her it was none of her business. She was always saying she was too busy with the double glazing so why should he bother telling her? Yes. Some things you just had to do alone. As for Dad, he was always on shift-work.

  Marcus found himself on the hospital bus, though he could not remember boarding it. He sat upstairs, making his mum follow him there even though she liked to ride on the lower deck. Somewhere in his mind he thought maybe there was something not quite right with his ears, but he was sure it was wax. His stomach was flipping.

  The appointment was at 9.20 am and would last no more than half an hour, the letter said. He wondered how he would be feeling at 9.50 am. He realised he didn’t have his ATC on him for the first time since he could remember. It felt weird, like there was a big hole under his arm.

  He pressed the bell on the bus to get off at the hospital stop. A crowd of people got off with him, his mum pushing through them, trying to keep up with him. The main entrance was boarded up and a sign there said ‘Temp Entrance’ with an arrow pointing to other signs. There were signs everywhere. One sign read, ‘Those wishing to attend the Eye Clinic please turn left then take the path on the right to the green entrance doors.’ It struck Marcus as a particularly stupid sign. How could blind people read it? Marcus’s destination was Ear Nose and Throat. Eye Clinic did not include Ear Nose and Throat he was sure. Maybe Ear Nose and Throat was another hospital somewhere completely different.

  He glanced at his watch. 9.15 am. Which way? His mum didn’t know either else she would have tugged his sleeve by now. This was stupid. Why was he putting himself through it? He could leave, give his mum the slip, tell the school the hospital said he was okay, or could make up a letter and send that, scan a signature onto it and hand it in at school. All he had to do was speed up, he thought, there were so many hospital buildings all scattered about you could lose anyone within two minutes if you tried hard enough. He imagined himself running like his shoes were on fire, all the way out of the hospital grounds, his mum flailing her arms trying to keep up.

  ‘Marky!’

  Marcus looked up. It was Horse. Bouncing Marcus’s ATC.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Marcus said. ‘How did you get my ATC?’

  Horse passed him his ball. ‘I called at your house and your dad said you’d left already, so I guessed. He said to take the ball for you and you’ve got to phone him straight away after.’

  ‘Thanks for the ball.’

  Horse nodded.

  Marcus waited for Horse to leave. Horse just stood there.

  ‘What?’ Marcus said.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ said Horse, not budging.

  ‘I don’t need you.’

  ‘I’m your mate. That’s what mates do.’

  ‘You slapped me.’

  ‘Sometimes people need slapping,’ Horse said, with a big shrug then a quick glance at Marcus’ mum, who was hovering, as usua
l, and hadn’t liked the sound of Marcus getting slapped. Marcus was impressed. His mum had been true to her word. She hadn’t spoken, even now.

  Horse softened. ‘This isn’t easy for me, Marky. Everyone’s mad at you.’

  ‘Leave me then. Take off like the rest of them.’

  ‘That’s not gonna happen. I’m mad at you. But you’re still my mate.’

  Marcus shrugged.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Adenuga,’ Horse said to Marcus’s mum politely. She was stood leaning on a lamp post. He hadn’t batted an eyelid that she wasn’t standing next to Marcus.

  Marcus’s mum nodded, keeping her oath of silence.

  They started off again, Marcus and Horse shoulder to shoulder, Marcus’s mum always not more than two steps behind. They walked through the temporary main entrance, through the swing doors, under signs for various weirdly named departments and found a reception desk. The man behind the plastic screen took Marcus’s card when he pushed it under the gap, then told him to head straight up, then left, second right, then … Marcus couldn’t follow the rest.

  ‘Get that?’ Horse joked.

  Horse led the way for all three of them. They passed the burns unit then a grey man in his dressing gown who had a drip attached to him. They saw a sign saying ENT, turned a corner and there was a waiting area. They all sat down in a row on the red plastic chairs, Marcus first, then Horse and Marcus’s mum.

  Marcus looked around. It was more like part of a corridor than a room. Five people were occupying five of the fifteen chairs. A sign in the area said ‘No Rudeness. No Violence. Emergencies Have Priority’.

  A nurse walked past, frowning, snapping off latex gloves. Hospital nursing staff wore different coloured uniforms, Marcus noticed. Some dark blue, some light blue. Other hospital staff wore no uniform as far as he could tell. They wore smart shirts or blouses, some carried stethoscopes, or clutched fluids bags, while some wielded clipboards.

  For a while in the waiting area, it was like a statue contest. Nobody moved. Frustrated, Marcus got up and went up to a nurse behind a desk at the end of the corridor. ‘Excuse me …’

  The nurse took the card Marcus was holding out and looked at it. ‘This is the STI clinic. Is that what you’re here for, love?’ she said, as she peered at his card, doubtfully.

  ‘What’s STI?’

  He heard his mum stifle a laugh.

  ‘Sexually Transmitted Infection,’ the nurse said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Er no,’ Marcus mumbled, embarrassed.

  Beside him, Horse was giggling too. Marcus nudged him and he fell silent. ‘I’ve got a hearing test.’

  ‘That’s next left.’ The nurse pointed. ‘Can you see it?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Marcus, he tugged Horse along and signalled to his mum they were on the move.

  There was another long wait. The people waiting in this space were all old, except for Marcus. Eventually a nurse in dark blue walked towards him. She stopped in front of where he sat, knelt down and placed her face right in front of his.

  ‘Are you Marcus Adenuga?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Marcus. Who’s this with you?’ she said, still kneeling. She had a warm Chinese face, and plucked eyebrows that danced as she spoke.

  ‘My mate, Horse.’

  ‘Another one wagging school? Why is hospital always so popular with school kids on a Monday morning?’ she joked.

  Horse squirmed.

  ‘And this is your mum?’

  Marcus nodded.

  ‘I’m not allowed to talk,’ his mum said, speaking for the first time.

  The nurse winked at his mum. ‘I’ve known that one before.’

  This comment pleased his mum.

  The nurse took Marcus’s card. ‘Just follow me will you, Marcus? Your mum and Horse can come along too, but behave or you two … get your ears syringed.’ She smiled broadly as she said this. She took them to a room where another nurse was waiting. The second nurse asked Marcus to sit down then deftly looked in his ears with some kind of torch, first left ear, then right. When she released his right earlobe, she nodded to the first nurse.

  ‘No problems there then,’ the first nurse said. ‘Follow me, keep up!’

  They walked another twenty steps, took two turns and they came to the door of another room. The sign on it said ‘Hearing 2’.

  ‘Okay Horse and Mum, you have to wait outside now while we do the next bit. Marcus will be back out before you can say, “Ghana versus Germany.”’

  ‘Ghana versus Germany’, Horse said promptly.

  ‘Very funny,’ the nurse said, wagging her finger at Horse. Even amid all his nerves, Marcus thought he liked this nurse, she was fun. She ushered him into the room. It was small and boxy, with grey walls that had nothing hanging from them, a grey ceiling and no windows. There was a small table ahead of them and one chair. The table had a set of headphones on it and what looked like a black cigarette lighter with a wire sprouting from it.

  The nurse was beside him. ‘Sit here,’ she said gently. She picked up the cigarette lighter thing. ‘This is the control,’ she said. ‘Pop the headphones on, Marcus, then press the red button on the top of this when you hear a sound coming through the headphones. That’s all there is to it. I have to go out of the room now to set up the equipment but you’ll hear my voice through the headphones very soon. Okay?’

  The nurse gave him a thumbs-up once he had the headphones on then left the room.

  Sat in the only chair, Marcus examined the control. It was like a wired TV remote but with only one button. He waited. There was no view but the walls, nothing to watch, no one to talk to or even to nudge.

  ‘Can you hear me, Marcus?’

  It was the nurse again, this time coming through his headphones.

  ‘Yeh,’ he said.

  ‘Okay stand by for the sounds. You remember what to do?’

  ‘Yeh. Press the button when I hear them.’

  There was a long silence. Marcus felt his thumb slipping across the surface of the red button. Why was he not hearing anything? The grey of the room swirled and wrapped around him like a prisoner’s grey blanket. Suddenly, the sounds started. They came to his left ear only.

  The first one was low. Like a drone. And so loud it hurt his ear. He liked that. He could hear it so clearly. There couldn’t be any problems with his ears if he could hear that sound so loud. Quickly, he clicked. The same sound came again, fainter this time, but still easy to hear. He clicked again. It came again, even fainter. Click. Then fainter still. Click. Click. Click. The sound switched to something like a submarine sonar sweep. Click. Click. Click.

  He understood the pattern now: loud, then softer and softer till he could not hear them. Then back up again in volume as the nurse checked for the faintest sounds he could hear in different tones. He listened on. A referee’s whistle. A boxing match bell. A Buddhist tinkly bell like his mum’s relaxation CDs. The echo in a cavern when water dripped. Then … nothing. Still nothing.

  At least ten seconds of nothing.

  It felt like years. Why were they making him wait so long? Maybe the nurse was having a glass of water, or their equipment wasn’t working.

  Marcus thought maybe he heard something. He was unsure. Maybe it was the usual background sound in his ears. The low ringing he heard deep at night if he lay awake. A sound that everyone heard, didn’t they? Or was it coming from the headphones?

  He hesitated. Maybe he should press the button, just in case. He hesitated again. Now there was a faint, very high, ghost-like sound that he lightly felt on his ear-drum, rather than heard. Or was it simply the whoosh sound of his ears and not something coming through the headphones? It was too clear to be inside his ears. He clicked. Next came a sound like the feedback from a mic but turned really low. Click.

  Then a pin dropping onto a metal tray. Click. A tiny pin dropping onto a metal tray. Click. Then … nothing … nothing …

  Marcus wondered if the test was over. Even as he thought th
is he heard that pin again. Or was it? He clicked anyway. He breathed, waited for the silence to end. The pin again. He clicked.

  ‘Well done, Marcus, other ear now!’ came the nurse’s voice, loud, clear and reassuringly warm, through his headphones.

  ‘Yeh, okay.’ Marcus breathed in and readied himself. The whole series started again. It felt like an eternity. As if he was a space centre control tower, receiving signals from some remote craft on Mars. Or as if someone had suddenly invented a new Morse Code full of clicks and burrs.

  Finally the nurse said he could take off the headphones. He took them off, stood and stretched his legs, but he felt faint again and had to sit down. He checked his watch. It had been only fifteen minutes.

  The nurse came into the booth all smiles and waved him to follow her.

  ‘How did I do?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘The doctor’s just looking at the charts, he’ll see you right now. Follow me,’ she said. Marcus couldn’t read anything from her tone of voice.

  Horse had ducked into the room and was looking around. Marcus was so glad to see him at that moment.

  ‘Someone likes grey,’ Horse said, pointing at the walls. He picked up the headphones and popped them on, then off again. He turned to Marcus. ‘Bit of deejaying going on here, then?’ he joked.

  His mum was outside with a ‘how did it go?’ look on her face. Marcus shrugged an ‘I dunno’ back at her.

  Then they were on the move, following the nurse along another glossy-floored corridor.

  The nurse tapped on the door of a room called ‘Consult 4’, paused, swung it open and nodded to someone inside. Then she beckoned for Marcus and his mum only, to enter with her. Horse was cool about it.

  ‘This is Marcus Adenuga. His first hearing test,’ the nurse announced to the doctor.

  She invited Marcus to sit down on the chair, by the doctor’s desk, which he did. His mum sat on a chair further away.

  The doctor was poring over a chart of wavy lines on a screen, like intersecting quadratic equations. He was a bear of a man in a too small shirt. He had a kind face behind wire glasses, and thick black hair. The doctor mumbled a thoughtful ‘thank you’ to the nurse.