‘What do you think?’ I said. He knelt down and reached round into the back of his trackies, pulling out a little plastic pack of tissues. He shook one open and pressed it to my knee. I sat there fuming silently, as he held it against my leg.
‘Ow!’ I said. ‘Easy.’
‘I’m trying to stop the bleeding,’ he explained. He had beads of sweat across his cheeks and forehead.
‘It’s just a scrape,’ I said. I noticed people were hurrying past, but still staring. He pulled out another tissue and handed it to me, I began to wipe off the cream and hot chocolate.
‘Bet you wish you’d had that americano,’ he joked.
‘Jamie, leave me alone. Go.’
He finished wiping my leg.
‘Let me help you up,’ he said. He grasped my arms and pulled me up to a standing position. I perched on the lip of the concrete wall by the river, groaning at the new pain where I had landed on my backside. My phone began to ring. I tried to get my bag off my back, but it hurt too much.
‘Where is it? Let me,’ said Jamie, reaching round behind me.
‘It’s in the inside pocket, the tiny one at the front,’ I said. Jamie began to fumble around. The phone kept ringing.
‘The inside pocket!’ I said.
‘There’s like twelve pockets on this thing!’ snapped Jamie. I batted him away and gingerly took off the backpack. I scrabbled around for the phone but it had stopped ringing by the time I got it out of the pocket.
‘Bollocks,’ I said seeing it was a withheld number.
‘What are you planning for me now?’ he asked. ‘You gonna burn down my venue?’
‘I’m waiting to hear from the hospital. Gran’s having an operation today,’ I said, scrolling through my phone to find the number for the hospital. I pressed call and waited nervously whilst it rang. Jamie’s forehead creased with concern. Finally a nurse answered, and after a moment gave me the good news that Gran had come round successfully from the operation, and she would be able to go home in a few hours.
‘Thank God,’ I said to the nurse, ‘Thank you.’
‘You can come and pick her up around eight,’ she said. I came off the phone grinning madly, I felt such relief.
‘What was the operation for?’ asked Jamie.
‘Bunionectomy, caused by years of high heels,’ I said. Jamie smiled.
‘Do you remember that year we all went surfing in Bude? She even wore her high heels in the sea!’ he laughed. I laughed too.
‘Didn’t she manage to stand on a surf board in them too?’
‘Yes. And she rode a wave for all of six seconds.’
‘Yeah! She made you time her on your stopwatch…’ I laughed.
‘I’ve got a photo of it somewhere. I’ll have to find it…’ he said.
There was a pause.
‘Nan isn’t good right now,’ he added, his face clouding over. I had fond memories of Jamie’s nan. She was much more conservative than Gran, but a lovely, funny woman.
‘I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Pneumonia.’
‘Please, give her my best won’t you? I hope she gets better…’
‘Yes, I will,’ he said. His phone began to ring, he pulled it out.
‘Hey babe,’ he said. ‘I’m just on the Embankment rollerblading… no I’m alone… What? It’s now showing a North Korean victory parade? Okay I’ll be there in ten…’ Jamie hung up. He stared coldly, our previous conversation forgotten.
‘You’re going to destroy us,’ he said. Then he turned on his wheels and skated off back towards Charing Cross.
I wondered for a moment who he meant by “us”. I supposed the only real “us” was him, Brendan and Tuppence.
I arrived at the hospital at eight-thirty. When I went into the ward, Gran was sat up waiting in a wheelchair. She was back in her clothes with a huge bandage on her foot. On the other foot she had a high heel.
‘Hello,’ I said giving her a gentle hug. ‘How are you?’
‘I feel like I’m flying,’ she grinned loosely. A kind-faced nurse came over with a big paper bag.
‘She’s on quite a lot of powerful pain medication,’ said the nurse. ‘It can affect the elderly in different ways.’
‘Who you bloody calling “the elderly?”’ snapped Gran.
‘Gran!’ I cried.
‘Did that doctor make me a nice toe?’ asked Gran in a loud voice. The nurse ignored her and handed me a paper bag.
‘Here are some painkillers and antibiotics for Anouska. She’ll need to have someone with her for the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Don’t you ignore me vooman! Have they made me a beautiful toe? A toe Sophia Loren vould be proud of?’ cried Gran.
‘Gran was a bit worried about the toe the doctor drew on her with the felt tip pen,’ I explained.
‘Don’t worry, you’ve got a lovely new toe,’ smiled the nurse using that sing-song voice reserved for the elderly.
‘How do I know she’s not lying? I vant to see my new toe before I leave!’ insisted Gran. ‘Once ve leave I von’t be able to bring it back and get a refund!’
‘You can’t take the bandage off for a few days, Anouska!’ said the nurse.
‘Pfft, let’s go Natalie. This nurse is an imbecile…’ said Gran.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. The nurse didn’t seem fazed and wished us well. God bless the NHS.
It was a bit of a nightmare to get Gran into the car from the wheelchair. She was a dead weight, and with my bad knee it wasn’t great. I knocked her bandaged foot easing it back into the foot well of the passenger seat, but she was so full of painkillers she didn’t notice.
‘Let’s go out Natalie. Let’s go to a club!’
‘We’re going home,’ I said firmly.
‘Spoilsport,’ muttered Gran, then fell asleep as I fastened her seatbelt.
Gran was still asleep when we arrived home. I drove down into the underground garage and then switched off the engine. I realised I had left the wheelchair in the hospital car park. How the hell was I going to get her up the four stairs to the lift, then in the lift, and then into the flat? I came round and opened the passenger door. Gran’s eyes fluttered open.
‘Oh hello Natalie,’ she said. ‘You look lovely, a little tired, but lovely.’
‘Thank you Gran, can you walk or hop?’
I undid her seat belt and she tried to shift forward.
‘I hev had an operation, yes?’ asked Gran.
‘Yes, on your foot,’ I said.
‘Oh, they had better hev done a good job. I vill be most unhappy if I get a man’s toe. Vas there a brochure I flicked through? Which toe did I choose?’
‘You chose the Sophia Loren toe,’ I said humouring her.
‘No, I didn’t, the doctor drew it on. He couldn’t fucking draw!’ she cried.
‘Excuse me? Is everything alright?’ said a voice. I turned to see a huge muscly man, dressed in boots, leather trousers and a leather harness with studs. Beside him was a small skinny pale guy in a similar outfit, only he had the addition of a studded leather cap.
‘Yes, fine,’ I trilled, being all British.
‘I hev had a foot operation. I spent my life in high heels, making my legs beautiful for the vorld and this is how God repays me!’ cried Gran.
‘Bunionectomy, was it love?’ asked the huge muscly guy. I nodded.
‘Lots of my friends do drag,’ he said. ‘It’s a breeding ground for bunions… Can I help you?’
‘Ok,’ I said, unsure.
‘Here Steve hold this,’ he said handing a big brown paper bag to the smaller guy. He leant inside the car. ‘Hello, I’m Kieron. If it’s okay with you, may I carry you up?’
‘Handsome men!’ cried Gran, her eyes lighting up.
‘Gawd, you must be on some strong pills love,’ he laughed looking down at the leather harness and his nipples on display. I didn’t know what to say.
Kieron leant into the car and gently lifted Gran out, wit
h one strong forearm under her legs, and one supporting her back. I scuttled round and grabbed her stuff and my bag and locked up the car.
‘Where to?’ asked Kieron.
‘We’re on the first floor,’ I said.
‘I’m Steve,’ said the skinny guy introducing himself. We followed as Kieron carried Gran up the steps. I pressed the button and we waited for the lift.
‘Vere are you two boys off to?’ asked Gran.
‘We’re having a party,’ said Steve bashfully.
‘Ooh a party!’ said Gran. ‘Natalie we have time, let’s go and join in!’
‘I don’t think it’s quite the party you’d enjoy,’ grinned Kieron. ‘But we’d love to have you over some other time, we’re on the top floor.’
The lift arrived and opened with a ping. Kieron carefully manoeuvred Gran inside and the doors closed.
‘Did you bring a bottle?’ asked Gran, leaning over and reaching into the paper bag Steve was holding. She pulled out a giant pink dildo. We all froze as it flopped to one side in her hand.
‘My God, whoever gets this vill have to bite down on a stick!’ said Gran. Luckily the two guys were very kind, and found Gran hilarious. When we reached the flat, they took her into the living room, and gently put her on the sofa bed where she began to doze.
'Sleeping like a baby,’ said Kieron.
‘Thank you so much. Is there anything I can give you?’ I asked.
‘It’s fine love,’ said Kieron, ‘Glad to help.’
‘Do you guys like Ryan Harrison?’ I asked.
‘Ooh yes,’ said Steve. ‘We saw him at Pride, on the float.’
‘It’s such a shame about his booze problems. The good-looking ones always self-destruct,’ said Kieron.
‘I run the theatre where he’s playing Macbeth. Let me comp you a couple of tickets, any night you like,’ I said.
‘That’s still going ahead?’ asked Kieron.
‘Yes, of course,’ I said.
‘That’s not what I read,’ added Steve. ‘They’ve fired him from that TV show, and his manager wants him checked into rehab…’
‘Where did you read that?’ I asked.
‘It just came up on PerezHilton.com,’ said Steve pulling a smartphone from the back of his leather trousers.
‘Shit,’ I said, reading.
‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news love,’ said Kieron. I thanked them and they went off to their party on the top floor. I came back to Gran dozing on the bed.
‘Are you okay Zsa Zsa?’ I said, easing her out of her fur coat and slipping off the one shoe she had on.
‘I didn’t die, Natalie,’ she muttered drowsily.
‘No, you didn’t Gran,’ I smiled. ‘You are very much alive.’
‘I told that bitch nurse I vas forty-nine. She didn’t believe me!’
‘She probably had your notes, with your birth date,’ I said helping her into a lying position.
‘Vat vould I do vithout my favourite granddaughter?’ she said, and then she was asleep.
I went through to pour myself a drink when my phone went. It was Mum, asking how things were. I told her that everything was okay and that Gran was asleep in the living room. Leaving out the part with the helpful dildo-toting leather boys.
‘Just before you go, Mum,’ I said. ‘Did you know that Jamie’s nan is ill? I bumped into him this afternoon.’
‘Yes, I heard it from the lady at the butcher’s. Mrs Dawson is in hospital; they took her in this afternoon. Pneumonia…’ she said.
‘Is it serious?’ I asked.
‘Pneumonia normally is Nat, but they’re very good up at Devon North General…’
‘Will you let me know if you hear any more?’ I asked.
‘Course love, and you keep me posted about your Gran. Make sure she eats lots of fruit and veg, and don’t let her near the brandy.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘And don’t let her wear any high heels.’
‘I won’t…’
‘I’m serious Natalie. Find a high place on top of a cupboard and put them all up there, out of her reach. When she had her veins done she nearly got a clot from prancing around in stilettos the day after she’d been discharged from the hospital.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘And Natalie…’
‘What?’
‘It’s never too late you know…. You and Jamie.’
‘Oh Mum, that’s... no, that’s never going to happen,’ I said. ‘I’d better go, night, night.’
I hung up the phone, wondering where on earth that had come from.
Snakes on a plane
I’d underestimated just how serious Gran’s bunionectomy operation was. She was in constant pain and for the first few days she could barely walk. I moved her through to my bedroom, so she could recuperate in a proper bed and be nearer the bathroom. I also had to help her shower every morning with a plastic bag over her foot to keep the bandage dry. Gran insisted on choosing the plastic bag.
‘Darlink! You scrubbing my backside vith a sponge is bad enough, at least give me a Harrods bag to put over my foot and take my mind off it,’ she said. Luckily I had one in the cupboard under the sink.
I’m so glad the theatre was only a few minutes away, so I could pop back home throughout the day. I bought her scores of magazines, and Gran likes fairytales so I downloaded Tangled and Frozen. She was adamant she didn’t want to watch Cinderella.
‘Is it because the older fairy tales have weak female role models?’ I asked stupidly.
‘No! I just don’t vant to be reminded of my bad bloody foot,’ she said.
‘So The Wizard of Oz is out of the question too?’ I asked.
‘Yes, just the thought of ruby slippers makes me want to cry,’ she grimaced, popping one of the super-strength painkillers from the hospital.
On Wednesday, Ryan was discharged from hospital and came back to work. We were now in the middle of the second week of rehearsals, so time was very limited. I was hoping to get to talk to him, but when I approached the theatre there was an enormous queue running several hundred yards back from the main entrance. I thought at first it was Ryan fans, but then I saw it was mainly greasy older men and young girls with tattoos – and each one of them had one or more clear glass tank containing a snake!
When I reached the front door, Val was jotting down their names on a clipboard and showing them through to the auditorium.
‘Gawd, these open auditions are always so popular,’ she said rolling her eyes. She took the name of an old man with waist-length grey hair and an eye patch. He had an enormous snake in a tank. Its scaly body was pressed flat against the glass.
‘Wanna see my python?’ he growled to Val.
‘Ooh, you sauce pot,’ she giggled and motioned him to go through.
‘What’s going on?’ I said as I watched him stride towards the doors of the theatre auditorium.
‘The open auditions for Snakes on a Plane: The Musical,’ said Val.
There was a whoosh of a hand dryer then a short woman with a pierced lip emerged from the ladies loo with a giant white snake draped around her shoulders.
‘You see that one, it got down to the last two for when Britney Spears performed at the MTV awards,’ said Val. I stepped back with a shiver as the woman passed, the snake shooting out a black forked tongue.
‘Who the hell is doing Snakes on a Plane: The Musical? And who said they could hire out the theatre for auditions?’ I asked.
‘You did,’ said Val. She was about to let in a man and woman each cradling a clear tank with a colossal green and yellow snake.
‘Sorry, could you wait a moment please,’ I said. I pulled Val to one side.
‘What do you mean I did?’ I asked. Val rolled her eyes impatiently.
‘You sent me the message, from yer new email address. I thought it was an odd musical to attempt, but I know you have to stay fresh and modern for the bloody Arts Council…’
‘Can we please come in?’ asked the wo
man whom I’d stopped. ‘We’ve driven all the way from Thetford, and Molly and Mark need feeding.’
I nodded. They came into the foyer, and set down the tanks on the carpet. The woman pulled out a McDonald’s Happy Meal carton, and lifted out some live mice by the tails. Molly and Mark shifted in their tanks, their heads rising to the vents in the top of the glass.
‘What the hell is going on?’ cried Nicky squeezing past the snake-toting queue and through the door. We all screamed as the woman lowered a live mouse into one of the tanks.
‘I think this is Brendan’s latest prank,’ I said. There was a scream and Byron came running into the foyer.
‘I’m sorry. I’m naught a squeamish person, but snakes are my Achilles’ heel,’ she said. She noticed the snakes in the tank and put her hands to her face.
‘Three of our auditionees in the auditorium can’t find their snakes. They’re slithering loose in the theatre!’ she said through her fingers.
The theatre had to be evacuated for the rest of the day, and a snake specialist was called in from London Zoo at a cost of £500 an hour! After five hours he finally rounded up the snakes. A grass snake and a python were found snoozing on a heater in the bar, and the rattle snake was located in the costume department, asleep in Macbeth’s sporran.
I was given a long lecture by the snake specialist, saying how irresponsible and impractical staging Snakes on a Plane: The Musical would be. I think their careless owners should have been ticked off too. All one man had over the tank for his python was a sheet of cling film! When the theatre was finally safe to reopen for the evening, I set off home.
I phoned Dave and asked if he could locate a black-and-white snooker match from the sixties to put on the screen of The Big O.
That evening my mood lightened when Sharon came over with a homemade lasagne, and when Gran insisted I do her hair and make-up, I knew she was getting better. They thought the snake story was hilarious.
‘I bet it was Jamie, cheeky bugger,’ said Sharon. ‘He always had such a great sense of humour…’
Miss Wrong and Mr Right Page 21