White Trash

by John King

  —No, she’s just being friendly, that’s all. You know what she’s like.

  —I don’t like it though, someone might think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. I like her, but she’s rude. All that sexy stuff.

  Ruby thought about the Christmas party. Poor old Boxer didn’t know what hit him, thought he was drinking fruit juice when really it was Maureen’s punch that she’d made specially, a lethal kick in the orange and pineapple. Dawn was bad getting off with Boxer but she’d always had a different approach. Boxer didn’t seem worried and that’s what counted. But she wondered about Dawn sometimes, was surprised but not shocked when she’d told her a month back that she’d been working at Melanie’s Massage. Ruby asked Dawn how she could sell herself like that, Melanie specialising in the moodiest massages in town.

  Ruby had ended up with a lecture, Dawn saying that if you thought about how much a nurse was paid and the sort of jobs they were expected to do, what was the difference between digging shit out of an old man’s arse for pennies or earning a day’s wage for wanking a young man off. She was helping people out both ways, and if nurses were valued more then she wouldn’t be forced into part-time work. She could take it or leave it, unlike some of the girls, with kids to feed or drug habits, fallen on hard times. Dawn went on and on and Ruby wished she’d never opened her mouth. She came on all militant the same as Sally would, saying how prostitution was the oldest profession in the world and for a lot of women that’s the only way they could make a living, and anyway, Melanie’s was a decent place, discreet, no drunks allowed, no S&M or kinky stuff, it was a laugh, there were some funny girls working there, and besides, she was only doing a day here and there, a top-up for her wages, it wasn’t as if she was going to pack in her job like a lot of nurses did, fed up having their noses rubbed in it all the time, treated like dirt and expected never to go on strike because their jobs were so important. Sally was right, everyone wanted health care but none of them wanted to pay the bill, expected people like them to do the work for fun.

  —See you, Boxer said.

  Ruby continued walking, on her way to collect some sheets, thinking about Charlie and how he dreamt of buying that Cadillac, the same old story holding him back, a shortage of money. It was never going to happen, but it was good to have a dream.

  She saw Mr Jeffreys coming along in the opposite direction. He was looking tired. He worked hard, and she knew from other nurses that he usually went right through the night, and she was thinking what a nice man he was, everyone said so, and she remembered how he’d been sympathetic the other day, and she had the hanky on her, was just waiting for a chance to give it back. He was engrossed in his thoughts and didn’t notice her.

  —Mr Jeffreys, she said.

  He jumped, startled, looked and tried to focus, so she waited till he was ready and could see who it was, his hair cut smart but very conservative, the white coat over a good suit, a stylish man who could’ve been anything he wanted. She took out the handkerchief and held it towards him.

  —Nurse James. I am sorry. I was miles away. So rude of me.

  —It’s your hanky. It’s washed and ironed.

  —Handkerchief? Mine?

  —You lent it to me the other day.

  —Of course. It slipped my mind. You need not have gone to so much trouble though. There was no rush.

  —Thanks for giving it to me, I was being silly, crying like that.

  —Thank you. Plenty more where that came from. I always travel prepared.

  He pulled out a hanky to show her and something clattered to the floor, Ruby bending down to pick up a pocket watch.

  —That’s a nice watch, she said. Lucky the glass didn’t break.

  He smiled at her, seemed really embarrassed, like he was going to faint or something. It was the heat, sweat on his forehead and cheeks.

  —Thank you, he said, after a pause. So stupid of me. My father gave it to me. So stupid.

  —It’s funny, she said, handing it back so he slipped it into his pocket with the two handkerchiefs. Mr Dawes had a watch just like that, he showed me once, I must have him on the brain, but it was true what you said, time helps, even a few days.

  He was looking at her strangely, as if he was seeing her for the first time, and she felt so sorry for Mr Jeffreys, it was like he was lonely, it couldn’t be much fun working at night and doing a job that was so important, every department trying to get the best deal possible.

  —Suppose it’s standard, she said. A gold watch when you retire. Anyway, I better get going, thanks again for being so nice.

  Ruby looked at her own watch, didn’t have long to go before she could go home, and Ron was in her head for a while, a nice memory, someone worth meeting, and she got the sheets and finished her shift, waved goodbye to Boxer who was talking to one of the cleaners, Christine, hair so black and shiny, deep brown eyes and fluorescent plastic bracelets on her wrists, these pink and green and orange loops, and Boxer smiled back at Ruby, blushing now as he gave himself away, gently rocking foot to foot, and she was really hungry, wondering what she should have to eat, didn’t fancy cooking, and she was soon walking through reception and passing Ted sitting with his CDs and books, yellow-page romances he sold in an empty unit, the paper looking like it had been dropped in the bath, big wads of brittle words, Ted in between the inner and outer doors, opposite a room where the porters stored the wheelchairs, and she smiled at him, redundant at fifty-five and after a year on the dole he’d started doing charity work to keep himself sane, Ruby knew his wife, she was working, and he was stretching his arms over his head, yawning, going back to his cardboard boxes and collapsible tables, and it had a good feel that room, musty because there were old books but alive like a jumble sale, like there was treasure in there waiting to be discovered, and maybe that’s why it was always packed, half the people who came to visit seemed to stop for a look, so serious as they flicked through, making sure they checked every book and CD, guessing that it would be just their luck if they stopped short and missed a treat. Ruby knew, because she’d done it herself, hadn’t been in for a week or two but would have a look tomorrow, she was hungry and couldn’t stop.

  She went out front past the taxis and a bus waiting behind an ambulance that was unloading a man with a cast on his left leg. She caught some of the words his friends must’ve signed, GET WELL SOON, ROY WOZ HERE, STEVE AND BEV, plus on the bottom of his foot where he couldn’t see was I LIKE LITTLE BOYS, and she did her best not to laugh knowing it was probably his best friend who’d done that one, and she went down the ramp past two guys sitting on the railing talking about chemotherapy and cancer of the liver and life and death, and they looked like brothers, the same pattern that spread out across their eyes, and they were talking hushed and serious so it was maybe their mum or dad, maybe an uncle or aunt they were close to, and she started across the car park towards the path leading home, tired but bouncing along with a spring in her step, trying to remember if there was any food in the fridge, knew there wasn’t, thought of Papa and the kebabs, didn’t want to take advantage, knew she’d get another free meal if she went in, and maybe she’d stop and buy some bread, she had a tin of baked beans at home, or she could walk a bit further and go to the supermarket, no, she couldn’t be bothered with all that, or she could do the easy thing and go down the chippy, that seemed the best option, mouth watering as Vinnie crossed her path.

  —Night, Rube, he said, laughing.

  He always called her Rube instead of Ruby, lots of people did, but he thought it was funny, just couldn’t finish the word, and she was laughing as well because there was so much of that, the one that really got her was Ian, how it had to be one of the shortest names around and still it was cut down to E, so she always called him Vincent back, seeing the look on Vinnie’s face, a good lad who had to stand in the car park all day directing traffic. It didn’t matter what the weather was like, he was stuck on the kerb getting slagged off by drivers who had a lot on their minds, moaning about the lack o
f places, like it was his fault, but he took it in his stride, the weather toughening him up, he had the wind and rain to think about, the smell of the exhausts, he liked being outside, did his own thing.

  —Did you listen to that tape I gave you? he asked.

  —It’s good, I’m doing you one back, she said, only slowing down.

  He was all right, Vinnie, but if she stopped she’d be there for ten minutes, and she remembered that time she’d been in A&E and he’d come in with a black eye after someone had punched him, that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t nice, but she smiled remembering how he had this hurt look on his face, and how his best mate, Jerry from security, went running out looking for the man, but in summer it was payback time, he was out in the fresh air while the rest of them were stuck indoors, he was lapping up the sun, getting a tan, and she was thinking of the tape she was going to make him, so he could listen on his Walkman, and it wasn’t a bad job, being a car-park attendant, she could think of worse things to do with your time.

  —Don’t forget, he said, moving his head in a circle.

  So these spirals came off him, making her think of the patterns of a radio, the sort of thing you saw on adverts and posters, diagrams showing the way sound moved through the air in waves, great big ripples on a lake made of gas instead of liquid, the sound of a person’s voice picked up by a receiver, translated back so you could hear what the broadcasters had to say, the music they wanted you to hear, sharing experiences, and she had to finish that tape for Vinnie, he was a good laugh, always smiling, with all that stubble on his face he never looked right in the uniform.

  She’d never seen him out locally, knew he was living with a girl, and she turned again, noticed a bottle wedged under the tyre of a car, bent down to pick it up wondering if it was kids mucking about or if it had just rolled and got stuck. As soon as the car moved it would smash and maybe burst the tyre, so she carried it in her hand feeling the stickiness of the sugar left behind after the drink had gone, a wasp chasing the bottle for a few seconds then catching a whiff of something better and disappearing, Ruby thinking of the bus ride to see her mum, there was always a tin or a can rolling along, a fizzy drink, sweet wrappers dancing in the wind in winter, she loved it, loved everything, everyone, on a real high, seeing all those bottles melted back down and reused, billions of cans crushed and turned into big blocks of gleaming silver, it was almost like she was in love.

  —Hello there.

  A voice caught her unaware so she jumped.

  She was getting ready to cut through the fence, stopped and turned round.

  —Are you in a hurry?

  She didn’t need to worry, it was only Mr Jeffreys. He was standing next to a silver BMW, not that she knew much about cars but could see the initials, and he was very smart in his suit, the white coat hanging in his office probably, back in the hospital, and he was an interesting man, exotic, from a different world basically, hesitant in the way he spoke to you like he was so shy it hurt. She didn’t fancy him or anything like that, no chance, it was just he seemed like a genuinely nice person, Ruby relaxing and smiling back.

  The twenty years Ron Dawes spent in the navy was only one part of his life … what made him stand out was how he used the experiences … the sort of man they made him … everything he saw had an effect … shaped his thinking … not just the beauty but the ugliness as well … the lepers … child prostitutes … cruelty … the extremes of wealth and poverty … it was all there inside him … and he made it plain as well … so you could see the link … and I can remember this time he put a tenner on Caped Crusader to win … that was a lot of money … normally he never bet more than a pound … but he explained that this horse was extra special … then told me about the day he rounded Cape Horn … at the tip of South America … and the Cape was notorious for its rough seas … the weather fine at first … then suddenly it turned … and soon he was stuck in the middle of the worst storm he’d ever known … and for the first time in his life he was sure he was going to die … the waves really were like mountains … they shut out the sky … freezing spray killed the feeling in his face … huge swells lifting the ship up and sending it crashing down … a rollercoaster ride straight to the seabed … and he used to dream about that storm for years afterwards … usually nothing upset him … it was following the war as well … he’d been on convoys … but this was different … he was different … he’d changed as he got older and never realised … he was right there when two of his pals were washed overboard … skidding across the deck and hitting the side and disappearing in an explosion of water … bang … they were gone … lost at sea … he hoped they died quickly … didn’t see the ship moving away from them … time to think about what was happening … one was a Glaswegian lad … Tommy … the other a man of fifty … Ernie … from Penzance … good lads … he would never forget them … the sight of their bodies tumbling over the deck … vanishing … and once they were round the Cape and the storm was over the crew had a service for Tommy and Ernie … he said it was horrible standing there … mouthing prayers … with no corpses to focus on … and by the time they reached Buenos Aires he knew that storm had changed his life … he’d seen enough … didn’t want to end up like those two lads … scattered bones at the bottom of the South Atlantic … the Falklands War brought it back years later … started him dreaming about that storm again … about the ocean … how the spray could turn to ice before it hit the deck … the swell that ripped into your stomach … those boys going off to fight probably didn’t think about all that … didn’t worry too much … that’s how he’d been … didn’t worry about anything … it had taken him decades to get the wanderlust out of his system … he was lucky to survive that long really … after the scrapes he’d been in … even backing Caped Crusader was light-hearted … but now he was serious … telling his story … transporting you to another time and place … it wasn’t just about romance … roaming the world like that … the exotic sights and a carefree life on the ocean waves … no … he’d been a bugger … had to be honest … drinking and brawling from Liverpool to San Francisco … to Buenos Aires … specially Buenos Aires … after the storm … the crew drinking away the loss of their pals … going at it worse than usual … and they had a big fight with the locals … Ron shook his head remembering … it started in a bar and spilt into the street … more and more Argentinians coming for them … and he was stabbed in the chest … a couple of inches lower and it would’ve pierced his heart … he took it as a sign … a double warning … the storm and the stabbing … and it looked worse than it was … the blade only went in an inch or so … if the Argentinian had been closer and got it in to the hilt … who knows … he could easily have been washed overboard … stabbed to death in the street … and when he was back at sea and heading for Rio he decided he was going to leave the navy when they got back to England … he’d had his fill … wanted a place of his own … a pub he could call a local … women around him … children playing in streets he walked through to work … and dying at sea became a real fear … it lasted for the rest of his life … he didn’t want to be stabbed to death where nobody knew his name … hacked to pieces … by a machete … in a brothel … in Mombasa … a good ten years before Buenos Aires … he was laughing about it an hour later … in a bar … drunk … he had choices where he could settle down … there were opportunities for men like him … Australia … New Zealand … America … Canada … South Africa … or he could try India … Hong Kong … the Middle East … it would be harder there … but the more he thought about it the more he wanted to go home … and from never thinking about England he was suddenly homesick … England was recovering from the war … it would be hard … and now he was excited … the world was changing … for the better … the war had seen the country run according to socialist principles … the profit motive outlawed … people worked for the common good … big business was sidelined … and he was going home a socialist … a self educated man who’d seen a thing or
two … when he wasn’t working there wasn’t much to do at sea … so he’d read everything from ‘Das Kapital’ to ‘Mein Kampf’ … could tell you all about Lenin … Trotsky … Hitler … Mussolini … Kropotkin … Mao … Churchill … people who’d shaped the world … he laughed … told me Ronald McDonald was more important now … and he didn’t settle in Shepherd’s Bush when he got back … that’s where he’d grown up … he moved out to find work … a fresh start … the new-town factories crying out for labour … booming … all sorts of people moving in … building a brave new Britain … and he loved every minute of it … the room he rented … the pubs … streets … shops … people … everything … and a couple of years later he met Anne and they got married … moved into a house … had four children in the next seven years … and Ron stayed at that factory until he retired … spent more time there than at sea … and he was a staunch union man … a hardcore socialist … he was keen to tell people there was no shame in socialism … it had nothing to do with communism … he couldn’t believe how quickly things were forgotten … and this upset him … he’d seen Bolshevism in the East … the Nazis in the West … the fall of the old imperialism and the arrival of a new more efficient version … he fretted about the changes of the last twenty years … how most people didn’t know their benefits had been fought for … maybe they thought they were a generous gift … from the Queen … or big business … how many of them even knew the name of someone like Bevin … but Ron wasn’t bitter … capitalism had won … and was busy tightening its grip … there was nothing he could do … but he’d enjoyed himself slowing them down … he had to move on … same as when he was in the navy … and so he enjoyed his retirement … couldn’t understand people who didn’t know what to do with themselves … and he could tell a good story about the factory … for those who were interested … characters like Irish Dave … the time he knocked out one of the bosses … how the whole factory came out in support … Dave was going to get sacked … as well as charged with assault … but production was going to be lost … money counted … the union was strong and management backed off … maybe they even knew that Dave was right … had responded to a personal insult … no man had to put up with that … not then … maybe now it was different … there wasn’t the same job security any more … and Ron’s best mate after the navy was Wally … Fred moved to New Zealand … lived near a volcano in the North Island … and they wrote to each other for years … till Fred died … and Ron used to go drinking with Wally … a big man he. said made Irish Dave look small … and even Ron admitted Wally loved a punch-up … there was plenty of fist fights … the way Ron told it you couldn’t help but smile … and it was rose-tinted glasses time … he knew it as well as me … could run off a list of names … lost now … the town filling up with people spilling out of London … migrants from the West Country … Ireland … Wales … the North … everywhere really … Poles who stayed after the war … years later the Pakistanis … Bangladeshis … there was all sorts … and the accents melted down … there was no twang any more … the factories and warehouses spread … it was still a boom town … still the future … and when Ron talked about England it was always the people … while in the navy it was places … events … and despite all the things he’d done with his life he was sad when he retired … they had a party for him and hundreds of people turned out … he never expected that … thought they’d have a drink in the bar … he was surprised by the spread laid on … young girls came up and hugged him … Anne watching …fuming she was so jealous … and he laughed about that … even when they got old she was jealous … but he liked that … it showed she cared … and it worked both ways … she was the most beautiful woman in the world … and a good mother … but with a temper … she could swear with the best of them … loved a drink as well … they were always rowing … she was looking forward to him retiring … she was younger … still at work … a good job with the council … she said he could do all the housework now … and people were coming up and shaking his hand when he retired … this woman Sandra famous for her baking … she made a big cake … always called him Red Ron … and Wally stood on a chair and made a speech that went on and on … and then everyone called for Ron to say a few words … he’d had a bit to drink and luckily they laughed at the funny bits … and he had to hold back the tears at the end …from a drifter he was part of a community … that was the point of the story … why he told me … it was another realisation … a good night … lots of the younger ones came along … and stayed … he could understand them getting bored … boys and girls in their teens and twenties who you wouldn’t think would want to give up their Friday night for an old man … there were punks … skinheads … Pakistanis drinking together … and all they were getting was some out-of-date singa-longs … an old-fashioned knees-up … but they seemed happy … he could remember looking across the room at the people who’d turned out … he was really going to miss the place … not the work so much as the people … and later on there was quiet again … and he was presented with a box … a big cardboard effort wrapped up in tape … he had to use a knife to open it … and inside was another box … and another … finally a present tied up with ribbon … he unwrapped it and found a gold watch … he had tears in his eyes … had to admit it … people joked about being given a gold watch … but he really loved it … that watch meant a lot … he always carried it with him … and Anne lived for fifteen years after he retired … their life together was full … they went on holiday every year … did the garden in the summer … went to the pub a couple of times a week with their friends … saw their children and played with the grandkids … till Anne died … and he had his first real depression … dreamt of drowning in the ocean … lost at sea … but he was strong and pushed his way through it … Wally was still around … and his family helped him … the neighbours too … he had support … his grandchildren were the most important thing to him now … he’d reached that point where everything he wanted was within walking distance … three of his kids … their children … the garden … the satellite system his boy Micky had paid for … and it was like a big circle really … that’s how he explained it … running around when you were a child but never straying too far … then going off to see the world … the one time he really said anything about his mum and dad was then … how his parents always fought … money the root of all evil … his dad had left and Ron was blamed … just for being born … but he wanted to see the world … it wasn’t just running away … he’d had a glimpse … that’s all you got in twenty years … and then he wanted to settle down … and he did that … raised a family … did what he thought was right … had beliefs he did his best to stick to … and finally his working days were over and he was back to moving around a handful of streets … where he knew people … if he was knocked down he wouldn’t die alone … this was home … where he belonged … and he was still interested in the world … but now he could see it all on the telly … go to the North Pole and swim around under the ice with polar bears … sit in the jungle with gorillas … he knew he shouldn’t be watching Sky … seeing as it was owned by Murdoch … but he didn’t care … Micky was generous … had him signed up for a decent package …but mostly it was the natural history he watched … some of the political documentaries … and with his grandchildren he watched the Cartoon Channel … he was eighty-four … and if he was old he had privileges … the right not to worry any more … he’d done his bit … now it was time for his reward … it was what he’d worked hard for … a pension … medical care … all the normal things … he always had one of his kids coming round … every single day … doing the cleaning even though he could do it himself … trying to cook for him … and on Sundays he had dinner with his family … now and then a pint with his boys … sometimes he didn’t fancy it … he couldn’t drink more than one or two these days … didn’t really fancy it to be honest … and he could’ve gone round to eat in the week as well …if he wanted
… but he preferred doing his own thing … he knew he was lucky … missed Anne but tried not to think about it too much … and he went down the bookies most days … studied the form … saw Wally … they’d started playing dominoes with this bloke Dennis in the cafe … usually won … they drank a lot of tea there … but Ron was getting better and would beat him one day … Dennis had age on his side … a young seventy-one … and Ron always had an opinion … could adjust to the person he was talking to … his mind was extra sharp … he wanted to live and see his grandchildren grow up … be around when his first great-grandchild was born … and he wouldn’t stop there … maybe he was going to live to be really ancient … and he laughed and went into a story about this man he’d seen in Peru … the locals said he was 135 … he didn’t know if it was true … there was no way of knowing … but he didn’t see why not … as long as you could get around … still had your marbles … and he made a face and shook his hands in the air … told me not to look so sad.