‘‘We should be invisible. If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s a chatty cleaner. We aren’t here to talk to people, we’re there to keep things clean. This isn’t a hotel, this is a hospital. Things must be kept clean. It’s bad enough the doctors and nurses not washing their hands properly, we have to make sure that our job is done thoroughly.’’
She looked at Laurie, obviously expecting a response.
‘‘Of course, Pat, of course.’’
‘‘Right, good. You just make sure you clean properly where you’re assigned and we’ll get on great.’’ She handed Laurie some white overalls. ‘‘You wear these at all times. If it gets a stain on it – you change it, straight away. There are more of them in there.’’ She pointed to the stock room. ‘‘You look like a medium to me. You can change in there.’’
Laurie put the overall on over her vest and leggings and folded the rest of her clothes up and put them on a chair. She snapped up the buttons on the front. It was a bit big and resembled a lab coat but with short sleeves. Instantly, Laurie felt capable and part of something bigger than herself. She’d often wished she’d had some sort of uniform in her last job. It was tiring having to think of what to wear all the time.
She came out of the cupboard and Pat smiled at her.
‘‘Tomorrow you’ll need to wear a pale bra underneath, and I’d suggest you always wear thick, black tights. That way no one can see your knickers.’’ Pat laughed, instantly making her appear ten years younger. ‘‘You can be as quiet as a mouse, but there’s always some dirty bugger notices your knickers through the skirt and makes a big joke of it. Better to show nothing, eh?’’
Pat laughed again at the expression on Laurie’s face.
‘‘It’s the geriatric ward. When they’re awake, some of the men can be a bit of a handful.’’ Her face became sombre. ‘‘It’s a shame. It’s often the men who were lovely and polite who become the worst with the dementia. Gropey, grabby, pass-remarkable.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘You’ll work out which ones to stay out of reach of. Anyway, you won’t see much of that for the first few weeks. I’ll have you on floors and surfaces until you get used to things and then we’ll see about ward cleaning. Right. Are you ready to get going?’’
‘‘Yes, I am,’’ said Laurie.
Pat stood up and put her hand on Laurie’s shoulder. ‘‘Welcome to the team Laurie. I think you’ll enjoy it here.’’
‘‘Thanks. I think I will,’’ said Laurie, surprising herself by meaning it.
The first job she was given was to clean the corridors between Wards 22 and 23. Ward 22 was where they housed elderly people who were on the way out, but who didn’t require a high level of care. Ward 23 seemed to be populated by elderly people who needed more machinery. She had to pass though this ward to collect the cleaning log in which to write the time she cleaned and jot down her initials. Pat made sure everyone did this for every section of cleaning. Laurie was impressed by her efficiency. Apparently the nurse she asked for the log was less impressed.
‘‘It’s there hanging on its designated hook. Just fill it out in future. We don’t have time to answer questions about cleaning or forms about cleaning, okay?’’
The nurse had been sitting reading a magazine, drinking from a mug that read, ‘‘Queen of the Fucking Universe.’’ When Laurie knocked on the open door, the nurse tutted and thumped her mug down. She was about eighteen. She probably wasn’t even a nurse. She was probably an auxiliary.
‘‘Sorry to have disturbed you,’’ muttered Laurie, signing the sheet and hooking the clipboard back up again. She had to stop herself from touching her forelock as she backed out of the nurses’ station.
As she walked back along the ward to her corridor, she kept her eyes down, not wanting to see and remember the people hooked up and bleeping in their beds.
She made quick work of the lino, enjoying swooping the mop one way and then the other then wringing out the grey water in her special bucket. Her arms tingled from the work and she could feel her heart beating in her chest. She’d sleep well tonight, she thought.
After a couple of hours and just as she was giving her mop a rigorous squeeze, Pat appeared at the doorway.
‘‘That’s time for your break. We’re all having a cuppa in the staff room.’’
Laurie pushed her trolley after Pat. She parked up with two other trolleys outside the cleaners’ staffroom while Pat held the door open for her.
‘‘Now, Laurie, you know Margaret already,’’ said Pat indicating where Margaret sat, eating a sandwich. Margaret looked up and tried to smile, but a piece of egg mayonnaise started to fall out of her mouth and she scooped it up with one hand whilst doing a little wave with the sandwich. Pat pointed to a plump young woman and smiled. ‘‘And this is Marie.’’ Marie was about Laurie’s age and she beamed up at Laurie.
‘‘Take a seat Laurie. You must be knackered,’’ said Marie, half rising from her chair. ‘‘I know I was when I first started.’’
‘‘Aye,’’ said Pat, ‘‘knackered from talking!’’
The three women all roared with laughter. It was strangely reminiscent of coffee time at BT. Why did women do this when they got together? Break time was more tiring for Laurie than working. She found it hard to work herself into hysteria over lame jokes and comments about the other women and their boyfriends and their superiors. It was always taking the piss and making a joke of things. She felt as if women in break rooms took their cue from dramas about women during the war, making the best of a bad situation.
She’d have to find a way to avoid breaks in here.
‘‘Would you like a biscuit Laurie?’’ asked Marie pointing to a packet of digestives on the table between the seats. Laurie hadn’t thought to bring a snack with her and was ravenous.
‘‘Yes please.’’
‘‘Take a few,’’ said Marie, ‘‘please – it’s all the less for me.’’ She patted her stomach. She was slightly overweight and had the look of a dinner lady about her; Laurie could imagine her with a ladle.
Laurie finished the biscuit and looked around. It was just a room with six lockers and a little kitchenette with a sink, kettle and microwave.
‘‘This is very civilised,’’ she said. A tray sat on the table with the milk jug, the teapot and a sugar bowl with sugar cubes in it. Marie and Pat were drinking from cups and saucers.
Marie beamed.
‘‘Everyone has their own cup, you can use one of the day shift cups until you bring your own in, if you like.’’ Humming to herself, she rinsed the yellow cup under the tap and gave it a wipe with a tea towel. ‘‘Would you like tea or coffee?’’
‘‘Tea please,’’ said Laurie smiling up at Marie who stood slightly stooped over her as if she was working in a care home and Laurie was some old dear sitting in a wing chair.
Marie poured slowly and carefully. Pat and Margaret watched her. Laurie did too, feeling soothed by Marie’s graceful movements. She lifted the milk jug and looked at Laurie. Laurie nodded and in went a stream of white.
‘‘Sugar?’’
‘‘No thanks.’’ Laurie almost wished she did take sugar so she could hear the plink of the cubes into the cup.
Marie handed over the cup to Laurie, a look of anxiety and pride mingled on her shiny face.
Laurie took a sip.
‘‘Perfect.’’
Marie beamed again. Laurie could tell that this tea tray and the cups and saucers had been Marie’s idea. Laurie wondered what Marie’s life was like outside work. Did she keep a perfect house full of china and doilies? She seemed too young to care about those sorts of things. But it must be nice to live in a proper, organised house where there was a way of doing things and a routine for times like dinner and breakfast. She’d like to live in a house with a milk jug and a tea tray and a biscuit tin.
Marie was still watching her as she drank down the rest of her tea.
‘‘So Laurie, tell us about yourself.’’ Marie leaned her chin on he
r hands.
‘‘Oh, there’s not much to tell really.’’
Undeterred, Marie pressed on. ‘‘Well, what were you doing before you came here? You must have been doing something.’’
‘‘Em … I was at University and then I worked at BT sorting out people’s bills, that sort of thing.’’
‘‘Really?’’ said Marie. ‘‘That must have been interesting, eh?’’ She looked round at the two older women who nodded at Laurie.
‘‘It wasn’t really interesting at all,’’ said Laurie. ‘‘I hated it actually.’’
‘‘You hated university?’’ Marie looked disbelieving. ‘‘I always thought it would be dead interesting.’’
‘‘University was okay. But quite …’’ she couldn’t find the word to describe it. It hadn’t lived up to her expectations. She thought it was going to be exciting and full of amazing switched-on people who’d travelled and had fascinating stories to tell. But most people just wanted to get wasted and compare drug stories. ‘‘Quite … anti-climactic really.’’
‘‘Oh,’’ said Marie. ‘‘And now you’re here.’’ She waved a hand shyly about her.
Laurie made an effort to smile. She didn’t want them to think she thought she was better than them. ‘‘Yes. And so far I really like it.’’
‘‘Good,’’ said Pat. ‘‘Nothing like a bit of hard work to take you out of yourself. Is there?’’
‘‘And have you got a boyfriend, Laurie?’’ asked Marie, a slight pinkness in her cheeks.
‘‘I do, yes.’’
The women nodded, wanting her to go on.
‘‘He’s called Ed. We’ve been together for a couple of years.’’
The women nodded again.
‘‘He’s about to go back to college and do Community Education.’’
‘‘So is he not working at the moment then?’’ asked Margaret.
‘‘No, but he said he’ll probably look for a part time job now.’’ Laurie certainly hoped so.
‘‘He should see if they need anyone in the kitchen here. They’re always looking for kitchen porters. My wee brother used to work there, before he …’’ her voice trailed off and Pat took over.
‘‘Good idea, Marie.’’
‘‘Oh, I don’t know if I’d want him to work here too.’’
‘‘Why not? You’d never see him. Unless of course you’re trying to keep a secret fella from him!’’ Pat was just joking of course, but Laurie felt herself blushing immediately. Pat laughed. ‘‘Oh Laurie, have I hit a nerve? What’s the story? Got a fancy man?’’
Laurie looked down at her hands.
‘‘Oh God, Laurie, I’m only joking! Don’t cry.’’
And Laurie realised that she was indeed crying. Big fat tears pouring out of her eyes.
Marie came over and crouched next to her and patted her arm. ‘‘Let it out Laurie, let it out,’’ she crooned, patting and patting. Laurie had to make a great effort not to get off her chair and lie down on the floor, she was suddenly so tired.
This went on for a few minutes until Laurie got hold of herself and stopped crying. Pat leaned across with a box of tissues.
‘‘What’s wrong Laurie?’’ she asked. She held the box steady while Laurie pulled a handful of tissues out.
Laurie dabbed at her face thinking about whether to tell them. She might as well, it wasn’t as if they knew her.
‘‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’’ She took a bite of the biscuit she was holding and spoke with her mouth full, pushing the biscuit to one side of her mouth with her tongue. ‘‘I’ve met this guy and I’m still living with Ed.’’
Marie looked shocked. ‘‘What about Ed?’’ She looked like she might cry now.
Laurie swallowed dryly and glugged back the rest of her tea. ‘‘I don’t know. Nothing’s really happened with Gerry. I don’t know if I even really like him like that, y’ know?’’
Marie looked at her mutely. The older women nodded their heads.
‘‘Oh, I know,’’ said Pat. ‘‘I used to go with a lad, Peter, before I got married. My mum liked him and so did my dad. Everybody else liked him more than me. I remember saying to my mum, ‘‘you go out with him then,’’ but you can’t stay with someone just because he’s nice, can you? Anyway, I met my Frank after that and,’’ she opened her hands out in front of her and shrugged, ‘‘that was that.’’ She didn’t look too pleased with the outcome. Maybe she should have stayed with Peter.
Margaret smiled sympathetically at Laurie. ‘‘Just you do what’s right for you, Hen. But think carefully before you make any hasty decisions.’’
It was at times like this that she thought of her mother. Not that her mother would have had anything useful to add and she probably wouldn’t even entertain a conversation of this nature, but still, it would be nice to think you could feasibly phone your mother and that she could, feasibly, change.
‘‘Anyway, Ladies,’’ Pat stood up. ‘‘Back to the grind.’’
Laurie stood up too and, after being patted on the arm by Margaret and hastily hugged by Marie, she collected her cart and went back to mopping floors.
Sunday the 19th of December
Three in the morning
Changeable
She stood outside the station door. The red light was on and she hesitated before she turned the handle. Gerry had said he was glad she was coming to see him, but she still felt nervous about this. She knew it was pushing things along: soon she’d have gone too far to write things off as a bit of fun and non-cheating. She wouldn’t have been happy if Ed had kissed someone else. But surely as you got older it took more than a kiss to qualify as an affair? When the range of actions grew, surely the bar was raised accordingly? But she knew that this line of thought was a smokescreen, a rationalisation to make herself feel better. What she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t help it, it would take someone coming along to actually physically move her to prevent her from going in to Gerry.
She smiled. She never would have thought a few days ago that this would be happening.
Gerry was so different, so much older, than anyone she’d been with before. His being older had to be a good thing – he knew more, he’d been around the block. That was what she needed – a grown up to show her the way in. Gerry had things on his mind, that much was obvious to Laurie. He was funny and quite charming, but he looked a bit removed to Laurie. Possibly that was one of the things that appealed to her. With Ed, she could push and push him and he’d take it. Gerry, she knew, would have much less tolerance for that sort of thing. She wondered what would make Gerry lose his cool. She tried to picture him losing his temper, but couldn’t force an image into her mind. She thought he was more likely to walk out and keep walking. But that wasn’t something to think about now.
Now was the time to think about jumping in, being brave, seeing what happened and to hell with the consequences. She turned the handle and opened the station door. Gerry was sitting side on with his headphones on, staring into space. He turned slowly towards her and his face opened up into a broad smile. He pulled the headphones off and stood up.
‘‘Hi Laurie. Sorry, I was miles away.’’ He pointed at the headphones.
They took a step towards each other, shy again, but only momentarily. Then they grabbed at each other, Gerry crushing her against him and kissed messily, toothily for a few minutes. Then Laurie was blushing, but felt like running around and yelling. Gerry pushed his hand through his hair, picked up the headphones and held them against his ear for a second and then dropped them again. They hung from the lead, almost reaching the floor.
‘‘The music’s stopped.’’ He stared down at the headphones and laughed. ‘‘And guess what?’’
‘‘What?’’ Laughed Laurie.
‘‘I don’t care! Let’s go to the pub.’’ He grabbed his coat and bag.
‘‘What about your shift? What about your listeners?’’ She was quite shocked by his giddiness. She thought all this meant a lot to hi
m.
‘‘Yeah. You’re right.’’ Gerry looked chastened. He glanced up at the clock. ‘‘I’ve only got about twenty minutes left. I could put on an album until the next shift.’’ He raised his eyebrows at her, looking for permission.
‘‘Yeah, yeah. Good idea.’’ She stepped over to the pile of CDs he’d left by the machine. ‘‘Radiohead?’’
He shook his head. She rifled thought the pile. She didn’t recognise a lot of the bands.
‘‘Bruce Springsteen?’’ He shook his head again.
‘‘The Who? The Stranglers? Muse?’’ Three shakes of the head.
‘‘No, no. Nothing’s right. It has to be something …’’ He trailed off and started fishing through his bag. ‘‘I know, a classical compilation.’’ He put it in the CD player. ‘‘Music from the Movies – perfect.’’
He put his coat on and picked up his bag.
‘‘Right, you ready?’’
‘‘Yes. But I’m choosing the pub this time. Not that skanky old guys’ place.’’
‘‘What’s wrong with it?’’ He looked hurt.
‘‘It’s full of old men and that Mags woman gives me the creeps.’’
‘‘Okay. It’ll be closed anyway. Do you know somewhere with a late license? Nowhere trendy. I don’t want cocktails. I want a cheap pint.’’
‘‘Not a problem.’’
Sunday the 19th of December
Early in the Morning
Becoming Drizzly
Laurie lay motionless as Ed rooted around in the bedroom. God, what time had she come in? It felt like she’d only been asleep for minutes. She couldn’t face speaking to Ed. Something had been decided, she felt. She listened to him walking through to the kitchen and picking up the phone. There was only one person he could possibly be calling at this time.
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