Birdy Flynn

by Helen Donohoe

  Chapter 10

  I felt bad to be thinking it, but I was comfy there, at peace. At first. I liked the hazy air and the disinfectant smell – it made the world seem fresh and well. I was tucked away in the corner, a big, wide window beside me. My own locker and a brown plastic chair. It was cosy. I was happy. I felt at home. I watched as draughts blew bits of fluff along the floor while, outside the window, small lazy clouds drifted along, nice and slow. If Mum had been there when I’d woken up, she would have said, ‘Well, Birdy, haven’t you been lucky. Don’t you have all the luck.’

  When the nurses weren’t fussing around me, it was calm. The light above me buzzed and flickered, and I could hear clanking down the corridor and grown-ups moaning about things that didn’t work. But there was no shouting. And I was not bored or scared. ‘You look as lonely as a teaspoon,’ Nan would have said, if she’d been in that room.

  Lie back was all I needed to do. I had four clean white pillows to hug me. I knew Mum would marvel at how they got them looking so brand new. My bed was metal. The floor was smooth. The sheets were also white and my blankets were too. I had a pale blue sort of nightdress on, but I didn’t mind. I was still alive.

  My eyes felt puffy, like I’d had a long cry. I wanted Mum there. She would have said, ‘Have yourself a good cry.’ My eyes were stinging; the lids were pressing heavy on my cheekbones. My cheekbones were aching like they’d never ached before. When I breathed, my ribs hurt. I hadn’t spoken and I didn’t want to try. My jaw was locked.

  My arm was attached to a long tube hanging down from a bag; the bag was held up high on a metal pole with a hook. ‘More than a dab of whiskey for a throbbing tooth,’ a man nurse had said. He was Scottish, his name was Rab and I believed everything he told me. Drips dropped down the tube and ran into my body. A clever tube, like a bendy straw, was under the skin of my left hand, disappearing into a tunnel. It made it easier to breathe. Rab said it would.

  When I woke up that morning, every bit of me ached, but I felt easy. There was another bag attached to a tube, hanging the other side of me. Rab told me not to worry about that – it meant I wouldn’t need to get up for a wee.

  If Mum were there, she’d have said, ‘What did you do, Birdy?’ She’d dream up, ‘Were you climbing trees again or playing in the brook?’

  There were five other beds near me. Rab said, ‘Sorry, you’re stuck with the grown-ups, but it’s only for a day.’ Mr Leonard was in the bed opposite, ‘losing his marbles’ Rab explained. Next to him was a football injury. He was foreign, Rab said, with a funny name, so they called him Manuel and that was OK. To his right was Terry, who drove his moped into a wall. Rab said to ignore him when he called the nurses horrible things like ponces, poofs and whores. On my side was William, also known as Billy. He looked like Jim Bowen from the telly. Finally, there was Derek. Rab said he was fine, apart from feeling sorry for himself and being addicted to lager and wine.

  I couldn’t turn my neck. But if I rolled my eyeballs left, I could see the nurses’ desk. I watched shoulders and heads bob up and down and turn and talk and answer the phone. There were bursts of laughter; one of them was playing up like a clown. Nan would have thrown her out the door for sloppy behaviour and letting herself down. A doctor was hovering, holding tight to his clipboard, but something distracted him and he turned to look down the corridor. The nurses looked as well. The nurses and doctor stopped and stood still. It was loud footsteps in a heartbeat rhythm. They got louder and nearer and quicker: clip-clop, tip, tap, clip-clop, tip, tap, echoing off the walls. Then it stopped. All I could see was bright blue stilettos, a red skirt, the bottom half of a long coat. The nurses’ faces were blocked from my view by an enormous bunch of pink flowers wrapped in yellow tissue.

  ‘Birdy Flynn, please’ were the words that I heard.

  A nurse stood up. ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘Birdy Flynn.’

  ‘Birdy Flynn?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Flynn as in sin or gin.’

  ‘Or Errol Flynn,’ the doctor said, and the nurses giggled.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Can you not see?’

  None of us could see. I knew who she was, but she looked like a talking tropical tree.

  ‘Eileen,’ my sister said, as if the nurse should know. ‘Eileen Flynn. Sister of Birdy Flynn. Or you might have her down as Bernice.’

  Eileen’s way of talking got worse after she got her flexibly friendly credit card, her Renault 5 and her big job. She got more pushy. She used long words like assertiveness and determination. Mum let her come and go as she pleased because Eileen gave her money for housekeeping.

  The flowers stayed stuck in the air while Eileen bent over the desk. She whispered something to the nurses, pointing to my bed. Then, as if a race had begun, she twirled like a dancer and strutted towards me, nailing her heels to the floor, taking long strides. Everyone watched her as she held the flowers up high.

  ‘Birdy.’ She smiled.

  I tried to smile.

  She studied me. It was ages before she spoke. I wondered if she’d found out that I had been wearing her clothes. The five other beds still watched. I must have looked bad. Eileen looked upset. Her eyes were super wide, like she was acting out surprise, and then she frowned like she was acting normal, and then she realised her acting was rubbish and I could tell she was thinking, Can I touch? Can I kiss? Will I hurt her? She lay the flowers at the end of my bed. She kissed my cheek so soft, as if I would bruise at the tiniest touch.

  I looked at my sister as she looked at me and I saw she had none of the freckles that I was given. She had warm creamy skin and brown hair the colour of milk chocolate. Mum never understood how her own flesh and blood could look so foreign. The men in the beds looked at her – they were smiling too. People smiled at her without thinking. It was something I tried to get used to.

  Her eyes filled with water. She wiped them, muttering to herself, ‘Get a grip.’ She said, ‘I brought you flowers.’

  I nodded.

  ‘We’ll need a jar,’ she said.

  I nodded slightly.

  ‘A jar?’ She laughed. ‘Silly me, a jar indeed. We’ll need a great big vase, won’t we?’ She talked to me like a grown-up to a baby.

  She looked around for something; her face twisted as if she’d just caught a rotten smell.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’ll sort that in a minute.’ She turned back to me, took a breath and said, ‘What happened, Birdy? Who did this to you?’

  I tried to shrug my shoulders. Her body shrank as she sighed and blew out all her lungs’ air.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ I croaked.

  ‘Oh God,’ she said while dusting down my blanket. ‘The bloody paperwork in these places! They wanted all your details: date of birth, dietary requirements. I said you don’t like carrots. I hope that’s all right?’

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ I said, louder.

  ‘Oh, Birdy. It’s so busy at work. I got away as soon as I could. As soon as Mr Carver’s leaving speech was finished. He’s going to manage the Croydon branch, and, well, you never know. I mean, I have to think ahead with Dad out of work and Mum slowing down.’

  Pain shot down my neck as I tried to nod.

  ‘I would like to try further afield,’ she carried on.

  ‘From where?’ I asked, and I wanted to tell her that nobody at her bank had ever heard of her, but I could only just breathe and Eileen’s words were not going to stop.

  ‘And Dad would be upset if I went away as well,’ she said, but I wondered if everything she was saying was made up. ‘Don’t you think, Birdy? You know what a softy he is.’

  A pain was starting to stab at my ribs.

  ‘And after Noely,’ Eileen carried on.

  ‘Where’s – ?’ I started, but she put her hand up to stop me.

  ‘And’ – she paused and reached for something near her feet – ‘I had to do some shopping.’ She waited for me to get excited.

  I didn’t. I was worr
ied that any movement would cause more agony.

  ‘Well, new pyjamas for a start, Birdy. Jesus, I’m not having you in here with those old man ones you wear. Christ knows what the doctors will think. You’ll end up in Broadmoor. I got you some socks, pants – don’t give me that face – and slippers. Here – look. They’re unisex according to the woman at the till.’ She rooted around in a BHS bag. She started pulling things out. ‘Well, Birdy, I know what you’re like, so here’s a new washbag. Well, I say new, but I don’t think you own one, do you? A toothbrush, flannel, body spray, a copy of Smash Hits, some sweets, Mum said get Lucozade, and this.’ She held up a copy of the Daily Telegraph as if it was soaked in wee. ‘I don’t know why you read this.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And of course the flowers.’ Eileen dragged the chair to underneath her and let her tall skinny body crash down.

  ‘Eileen,’ I said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Where are Mum and Dad?’

  She tutted and groaned but didn’t look up. I paused to let her answer, but she didn’t say a word.

  Across the bay, there was movement. Like leaves caught in gusts before a storm, the five beds started murmuring and shuffling. Everyone sat up against their pillows and I realised I couldn’t move. A giant silver barrel on wheels came squeaking around the corner. A fat woman in a tight, scratchy-looking grey dress pushed the metal monster down to our end. She parked it with a kick on the brakes and grunted at us, ‘Tea?’

  My sister sat up. ‘Could I have a hot chocolate?’ Eileen said.

  ‘Do I look like a waitress? ’Ave I got Wimpy on my hat?’ the woman snapped. She didn’t even have a hat. My eyes begged Eileen to not make a fuss and I wished the tea woman away. She spun and shouted at Leonard, ‘The usual, Mr P.?’

  ‘Rude cow,’ Eileen said. ‘Did you want a drink, Birdy?’

  I closed my eyes.

  ‘Honestly, if I behaved like that at work.’ Eileen turned, shaking her head. She opened my locker and put the toiletries in there, still muttering.

  Leonard smiled and straightened his hair as if he was going out for the night. He did up the top button on his pyjamas like he was fastening his tie, and the fat woman put a drink with a straw down at his side.

  ‘All right there, Harry,’ he shouted at me and gave me an army salute. ‘Did you get the parts for your car?’ He stretched across his locker for his glasses. ‘Don’t cut corners, Harry,’ he said, louder. ‘Specially you, having little ones.’ We stared at him, sort of smiling. ‘Nice to see the wife here, Harry,’ he said, winking at my sister. ‘You look after him, won’t you, eh? He’s a good ’un.’ He opened his newspaper and his face was gone.

  ‘Birdy,’ Eileen said with her horrified face on.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re all old men.’

  ‘No they’re not.’ I pointed with my eyes to Manuel.

  Eileen smiled in his direction.

  ‘Oh, God Almighty,’ screamed Leonard. ‘Oh, Hell on earth, Harry,’ he shouted at me. ‘I’ve spilt it right down me old flies, Harry. Oh, God Almighty. Where’s my Lilly? Where’s my girl?’ Leonard started panicking, flapping his arms.

  ‘No point relying on a woman, Len,’ Terry laughed.

  Eileen screeched the chair as she got up, and I thought she was going to help. But she swept my curtains closed around my bed. I heard Leonard being told off like a schoolboy. Eileen stopped and stood and held on to my bed’s metal frame to steady herself.

  ‘Mum was here,’ she said.

  I looked straight at her, my heart flipping.

  ‘She came straight away.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘As luck would have it, Mrs Lambell, you know the one from the corner bungalow, with the fake squirrel and rabbit on the roof?’

  ‘And the fox,’ I said.

  ‘That’s her. Well, she was in reception when they brought you in.’

  ‘Very lucky.’

  ‘Her son had shoved carpet underlay up his nose. Anyway, so she told them our number and the hospital phoned Mum.’

  ‘And Mum came straight away.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You were unconscious.’ Eileen studied my blanket, picked off feathers and dropped them to the floor. ‘Not sure about Dad,’ she said without looking up.

  ‘Gone missing again?’

  ‘Yes. Sort of. Gone for a long stroll.’ After some thinking, Eileen banged the bed frame with the palm of her hand. ‘Right,’ she said, and her face looked determined, ‘let’s get some vase action.’

  ‘Where is Mum now?’

  ‘With the police,’ she said.

  The curtain was pulled open and a nurse wheeled in a metal trolley piled with tubes and rubber things. The nurse stood next to my bed. She looked me over like I was a second-hand car that she was viewing. Then she rolled up her sleeves and checked her upside-down watch.

  ‘Can I get a vase, nurse?’ Eileen said in her schoolgirl voice.

  ‘Ask the desk.’ The nurse pointed to it while stepping closer to me.

  My skin started to itch as my sister walked away.

  ‘This won’t take a moment,’ the nurse said, lifting my blanket and letting cold air in.

  What won’t take a moment? Why are you doing that? I wanted my sister back. I wanted the curtains open.

  ‘Get off,’ I shouted and I couldn’t help myself. ‘Get off me,’ I screamed.

  The nurse jolted back.

  ‘What in Heaven’s name?’ My curtain was whacked to the side and there was Mum. She flicked the curtain shut. She had that disappointed look. She shook her head at the nurse. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said and she pulled my gown back down. ‘What do you say, Bernice?’ She stood still at the end of my bed. ‘What do you say, Bernice?’

  ‘Sorry, but –’

  ‘Sorry will do,’ Mum cut me off. There was no kiss. No gentle lean in to touch my forehead. She didn’t smile at me like Eileen did. She didn’t reach for my hand. I looked around for my sister.

  ‘I’ll be back shortly.’ The nurse walked away.

  ‘Is this how, Bernice? Is this how?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘How it’s to be.’

  ‘How what’s to be?’

  ‘They’ll have a field day at work with this. I might lose my cleaning jobs.’

  ‘Mum,’ I said, but her mind was gone.

  ‘We’re supposed to stick together.’

  ‘I tried, Mum, didn’t I? At least I tried.’

  ‘Tried what?’

  ‘To be a girl.’

  ‘You are a bloody girl,’ Mum screeched so high I thought she would explode. ‘What did I say about fighting?’

  I wanted to tell Mum the truth, all of it, right then. But sometimes when I wanted to tell the truth my head didn’t know where to begin.

  ‘Why are you still fighting?’ she kept asking. ‘You’re a girl,’ she said, like I might have forgotten in ten seconds. I had words that I wanted to say but I couldn’t find an order for them. ‘Bernice?’ Mum raised her voice.

  I closed my eyes.

  ‘Bernice, can you hear me?’

  ‘Girls can fight,’ I said.

  ‘Not with fists.’

  ‘Then with what?’ I said.

  ‘Come on, Eileen,’ a voice shouted and everyone laughed.

  Then the clip-clop of shoes came closer, and as Eileen stepped inside my curtain Mum slapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘How does he know your name?’ Mum asked.

  Eileen shrugged and gave me a wink. After positioning the mass of flowers, Eileen bent down to her bag again.

  ‘Forgot to show you this,’ she said, rummaging in the plastic bag and pulling out a box. ‘I had to open it to put batteries in it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Birdy, my God. Can’t you see? I bought it new, specially.’ She held it out. She turned it around, showing me each angle: the orange headphones, the shiny buttons. She pressed them and they clicked up and down. ‘And,’ Eil
een went on, ‘have a guess what I’ve done.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have made you a special compilation tape.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Yes way. Well, it’s one I had already but I added extra songs.’ She showed me the cassette. The songs and the singers’ names were written in tiny capital letters.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘So I made sure it’s got your Jackson Five. And even though it’s extremely embarrassing, I put on your favourite Joseph and His Crazy-coloured Dreamcoat.’

  ‘Technicoloured.’

  ‘Yeah, that. And, of course, I had to include some Dexy’s Midnight Runners.’

  Being careful around my puffy ears, she placed the headphones on me, pressed one of the buttons and waited for my reaction. It was a man singing about lots of happy talk. I put two thumbs up.

  Mum’s mouth was locked shut. She walked from the end of my bed to the locker beside me. She rearranged the flowers. She walked to the window and wiped dust from the blinds. ‘I’ve got something to ask you.’ She broke her quiet.

  ‘Pardon?’ I tried to hear her.

  ‘Eileen, get those bloody things off her.’ Mum pointed and Eileen gently took the headphones off.

  ‘I’ve got something to ask you.’ Mum’s voice was sterner than the lecture I got when she caught me in her purse or saw me kicking Aunty Marie’s dog.

  ‘Did you do it? Did you touch that girl?’ she said through gritted teeth, so that only we could hear her.

  The other beds were silent.

  ‘What are you saying, Mum?’ Eileen asked.

  ‘Keep out of it,’ Mum said to her.

  ‘Touch who? Who did I touch?’

  ‘I’m not blind, Bernice,’ Mum snapped before I could get out another word. ‘I am not blind.’

  ‘I never said you was.’

  ‘I have eyes, and, OK, I’m no Brain of Britain, so I’m not, but I can see what’s in front of me.’ She sounded like I made her feel sick. As if in front of her was one of the manky slabs of meat that Dad wins down the pub and tells us is a special treat. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday.’