by Paul Kelly
“And your mother... was she from Sri-Lanka too?” Clemmie enquired with raised eyebrows.
Fred spread his hands in the air when Clemmie asked him that question and his face took on a solemn look but he did not answer.
“Dat’s why I’m such a gorgeous honk of a maaan, you see,” he said with a broad affected grin that looked more like a Kentucky minstrel and it was obvious to Clemmie that he wanted to avoid her question.
“Sssh! You’ll wake Paul up,” Clemmie said by force of habit if there was any unusual noise or sound in the house, “and I gather he didn’t sleep too well last night... did he?”
“Not bad... No, not bad at all... I sing him a little song when he’s restless an’ dat do de trick.”
Clemmie spread some more butter on her cake. She thought it always tasted better that way and it was something her mother had always done.
“Oh Fred, you are a tease. I don’t know how to take you... I really don’t. By the way, why don’t you use your real name? It sounds much better than Fred, I think
“Do you mean Vijayananda?”
“No, your other name... Your Christian name I suppose it is.”
Clemmie tried to pronounce Fred’s other name without success and he grinned.
“You mean Seyone, don’t you?”
“Yes... that sounds a very nice name. How do you pronounce it?”
Fred spread his lips and interpreted to suit Clemmie.
“It’s pronounced See... own... ee,” he said and waited for her to laugh, but she didn’t. “What’s your Christian name, Clemmie,” he asked and sat down near her on the floor as he crossed his legs and stared up at her face. Clemmie smiled quietly to herself.
“Clemmie will do just nicely, thank you,” she said and continued to butter a second slice of cake, which she put aside for Paul. “Now you’d better get yourself off to bed. You might have a busy night tonight.”
Fred left the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, four at a time to his room, next door to Paul’s. They had adjoining doors so that he could be called at any time in the night and he was quite happy to catch up on his sleep during the day... when he wasn’t eating Clemmie’s cake in her kitchen.
***
“Oh Willie... someone phoned you earlier... about 8.30 this morning. Said his name was Ted, but he wouldn’t leave a message.”
Willie picked up her mail from the hall and straightened her hair, which had fallen over her forehead when she bent down and Clemmie rolled down her sleeves and buttoned her cuff as she added the finishing touch to some salad on the kitchen table.
“Thanks Clemmie... That’s alright. I’ll phone him later. What time do you make it? I think my watch has stopped again... Oh... Is that cake your making?”
“Exactly three minutes past three, “Clemmie answered, “and yes, it’s cake, but I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”
“Why not... I love cake... you know that.”
“Yes, but this is a special sort of bake that my mother taught me when I was a little girl. It’s a mixture that you make up with the usual fruit etc., but then you boil it in a saucepan or in a steamer...”
Willie cocked her head to one side.
“Mmmhh! Looks nice... Can I try it?”
She took a piece of Clemmie’s cake and wrinkled her nose.
“A bit dry for me... but very tasty,” she said.
“You need to spread some butter on it, to get the best taste.”
Willie looked suspiciously at her nurse and declined the offer.
“I’m watching my waist line... so I’d better give that a pass... What time did you say it was again?”
Clemmie rolled back her cuff and looked at her watch for the second time.
“Nearly five past three,” she said, “I’m making a pot of tea. Want some?”
“Oh gawd... I could just do with a cuppa... I’ve had one hell of a morning and tomorrow seems as though it’s gonna be a helluva lot worse. Is Paul OK?”
Willie looked around, but there was only Clemmie in the kitchen and she was a little disappointed.
“Yes, he seems to be even better since Fred arrived.”
“Oh Fred... Oh yes, do you know, I had forgotten all about him being here,” Willie lied as she looked around again. “He has only been with us a very short time... Are you sure it’s making that much difference to Paul?”
“Oh yes, Fred’s quite a character and Paul likes him.”
“Does he now... well that’s nice... I don’t think he would have hit it off with the other applicants. I must have dreadful judgment to have chosen those others. I must have my head up my rear,” she said and giggled. “Ms Balcomb would have chewed his balls off if he’d stepped an inch out of line.”
Clemmie closed her eyes and a little smile lingered, as she tried to keep a straight face, but as she poured the tea, totally ignoring the anatomical dissection by this time, she took her own cup and Paul’s feeder into the lounge as Willie followed her.
“You were asleep when I left this morning, chubby chops. How are you now?” Willie asked as she moved slowly towards Paul’s chair, but there was no emotion in her voice. She could have been reading the nine o’clock news for that matter, thought Clemmie as she began to feed the patient, but Paul’s face lit up when he saw Willie and Clemmie hoped that the latter would at least look at him when she spoke.
“He’s dribbling again, Clemmie... wipe him please. Do it now. You know how that upsets me,” Willie snapped and Clemmie did the necessary as she smiled at Paul. “I’ll take his hand when I’ve drunk my tea,” Willie added and went back into the kitchen.
Paul shook his head in excitement, but a little too violently and lost his balance in his wheelchair as his feeder fell to his lap.
“Don’t worry... I’ll clean it... Don’t worry... There’s plenty more in the pot,”
Clemmie dried her eyes as she went into the kitchen with the empty feeder in her hand.
***
“Now then, big boy...” Willie tried to compromise but her face showed her true feelings as she looked at her husband, “Which hand are you gonna give me this time?”
Paul’s face twisted into a grimace of a smile as he pushed his right hand forward for his wife to take and she massaged his fingers gently, but there was a strange glow in her eye.
“You like Fred, darling... don’t you?” she asked sweetly and Paul grinned as he made a blubbering noise with his mouth. “He’s funny, isn’t he? But is he taking good care of you, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
Again Paul shook his head, but his face was serious as he moved. There was no grin on this occasion as he pulled at Willie’s fingers and she closed her eyes to read his message.
“Of course I won’t silly... We won’t send Fred away, but you have to behave yourself, don’t you?” she patronized. “And Clemmie likes him too... doesn’t she... and Fred likes you and Clemmie... yes?”
Paul nodded again and the smile came back to his face.
“I think he’s rather nice myself actually,” she said with a sneer on her lips. “Do you think... Do you think, he might like me a little too, darling?” Paul nodded furiously and beamed. “That’s nice, darling... and does Fred ever tell you how much he likes me... well, how much he likes being here with us?” she went on and Paul blinked as if he was unsure how to answer her question. “Well... it’s early days,” she said softly, “I’ll be back soon. I have a telephone call to make. Be good now, darling.”
Willie felt Paul’s crotch as she was leaving to check that he was dry.
Strange... There was a time when that touch would have meant a lot to me... she thought and then she dialled Ted’s number.
***
“Thanks for returning my call, Willie. I didn’t know what message to leave as I’
m not sure if they know that you are coming to see me.”
“Oh how romantic, Ted. You are sweet,” she hissed into the phone, “But they’re OK You did the right thing. They don’t know anything about my visits to you, but then it’s none of their damned business, is it?”
Ted Sutherland winced as he listened to Willie’s gripe and drew his forefinger across his throat.
“Well... when can we meet then?”
“I’m not sure, Ted. I’ve been so busy of late. Hardly had time to turn round,” she snarled as she looked from the floor to the ceiling and back again. “Can we say Thursday... 10.30 or 11.0 in the morning provisionally..? If I get bogged down, I’ll let you or Morag know.”
“Monica,” he said very deliberately and clearly into the mouthpiece.
“What?”
“Monica,” he repeated. “My receptionist’s name, remember.”
“Oh yes... of course... well I’ll be in touch if I can’t make it and if you don’t hear from me... you... or Monica... I’ll be there as agreed, OK?”
“Sure that’s fine... and Willie... I’ve got a lot to discuss with you,” he said as she paused and straightened the telephone wire before she let it go again, where it sprang back into its curl. “Are you there Willie?”
“Yes Ted, I’m still here.”
“That nurse of yours sounds very nice.”
Willie laughed.
“Which one,” she asked.
“Do you have others like that?”
“Well, there’s Clemmie... very efficient, conscientious, ever caring and I really couldn’t do without her... and then there’s Fred, who has only just joined the club.”
“Fred? Is that short for Frederika?”
“No it isn’t. It’s short for Vijayananda,” she laughed.
“What? You’re having me on.”
“No, I’m not... He is all male... Nothing shee-ish about our Fred, I do assure you.”
Ted waited for a few seconds before he spoke again, thinking that Willie might impart some more details about her new nurse, but she didn’t. He could hear her breathing.
“How old is this Fred then Willie?” he asked and pressed a button on his telephone to record what she said and a green light appeared at the base of the phone.
“Thirty-two,” I think. Yes, he’s two years older than me and he’s Taurus... Looks more like eighteen. He’s gorgeous and comes from Sri-Lanka.”
“Mmmmh!”
“What do you mean, Mmmmh! Ted? Don’t worry. He’s not your type, I’m sure.” she said and Ted Sutherland laughed.
“How do you know,” he giggled and Willie snorted into the phone.
“Oh Ted... You are a dark horse. You should have told me before and I could have introduced you to some of my hunky friends. I know quite a few handsome limp-wrists, you know.”
“Thanks, but no thanks Willie... and you... be careful now, d’ya hear me?”
She ignored his remark
“I hear you alright... and your secret is safe with me Edward Sutherland, but it’s not me you should be worrying about. It’s Fred.”
He giggled again as he watched the green light flashing on his telephone.
“See you Thursday... and behave yourself.”
“You too,” she said and as the phone went dead, the green light went out.
***
Ted rubbed his chin as he sat back in his chair to consider the essence of what he had just heard.
“Fred indeed... he muttered “And all the way from Sri Lanka... What next, I wonder... and why should she be so concerned about his birth sign?
He rang the bell on his desk and Monica answered his phone.
“Yes, Mr. Sutherland?”
“Morag...” he said and apologised... “Sorry, Monica. Sorry about that, love... Can you tell me... you being a woman and that... Does Scorpio match up with Taurus, as far as the Zodiac signs go? I mean would a Scorpio and a Taurus be compatible... as partners?”
As he expected... there was a long silence before the receptionist spoke.
“Well... being a woman and that... I couldn’t be sure, but I would hope so,” she said and Ted pricked up his ears.
“Why... what makes you say that?”
“Well... Mr. Sutherland... You are a Scorpio?”
“Yeah... and what’s that got to do with what I asked you?”
“Judge for yourself,” she said, “I’m a Taurus...”
Chapter Eleven
Monica applied a coat of fresh lacquer to her nails as Willie came through the door.
“Hello Mrs. Fehrenbach. Professor Sutherland is expecting you.” Monica shuffled to remove her make-up bag from her desk and jumped to her feet to open the door for Willie, blowing on her damp nails as she moved and Willie grinned... What a difference a day makes, she thought to herself, as she reflected on the words of the song, twenty four little hours... even if she was quite aware that it wasn’t yesterday that she had last seen Ted Sutherland... She had made an obvious conquest and that always gladdened Willie’s heart... no matter how small.
“Hello Willie. Nice to see you again... Glad you could make it. It seems ages, doesn’t it?” Ted Sutherland gushed as he stood up from behind his desk and a paper napkin fell from his waistcoat. “Just finishing my breakfast from this morning... Had to rush in here, you see,” he explained and wiped his mouth with the serviette. Willie waved her hand in the air.
“Excuses... excuses,” she smirked, “They won’t get you anywhere. You should have been up earlier.”
She sat down and Sutherland pulled a large envelope from the side of his desk, ignoring her reprimand, whether it was meant to be derogative or not.
“I’ve been going through your notes... as of course, I’ve already told you I would... and first of all, I’m pleased that you are able to write as you do. Very interesting and from your vivid... yes, very lucid descriptions, I think you’re well on the way to knowing a lot more about yourself... Even if your... er... narration is rather vituperative at times... about yourself I mean...” he sighed and glanced towards the floor, “Willie... you are very hard on yourself, don’t you agree?”
Willie took her cigarette case from her handbag and was about to light up when Sutherland pointed a stubby finger to a sign on the wall near the window. It read ‘NO SMOKING’ in large red letters. She followed his pointing direction with diffident eyes, before she snap closed her cigarette case and dropped it back into her crocodile skin bag with an air of mock-deference, curling her lips into a silent protest. She hated notices of any kind that told her how to live her life.
“Well, I did tell you, Ted... I’m not one of the nicest people you are ever likely to meet, am I... and certainly not the easiest to live with.”
Ted Sutherland pulled a face and grinned.
“You shouldn’t put yourself down so... I keep telling you. By the way Willie I know you’re a Scorpio, you told me that yourself. What’s your husband, if I may ask?”
“I never thought about that,” Willie said as she looked to the ceiling and narrowed her eyes, “He was born in... oh my gawd... He’s a Scorpio as well... would you believe it?... and with regards to me putting myself down as you say... You did tell me to be absolutely honest with you and I did tell you when we first started this consultation...” she hissed that last word, “I am a literal bastard...”
“Yes?” he asked and raised his eyebrows as he switched on his tape recorder.
“Now let’s recap... for a few moments,” he went on but by this time Willie had tightened her lips and was pulling at her fingers. “I know you adored your dad,” he continued, “You’ve said that many times, but you don’t say much about your mother.” Willie shifted uneasily and looked to the carpet, expecting to see that stain again. Where the hell had it gone.
.. It should be there... she saw it with her own eyes... “Are you alright, Willie? Have I said something that’s upset you? Were you... were you close to your mother?” he asked again and watched her reaction.
“I think I’d rather talk about the weather, wouldn’t you?” she groaned as she lifted her eyes and looked into his face... and then she looked away again. “We were never close... Not ever, but she was a good woman. It was me, I suppose. I always get on better with men... and don’t get me wrong Ted... I don’t mean just every Tom, Dick or Harry... you understand.”
“Well, thank God I’m a Ted,” he said and giggled, but he had a nasty condemning thought in his head as he answered her. A thought that he knew he should never entertain in his integrity as a psychiatrist... but he capitulated and gave her a Judas smile... No Tom or Harry he thought... but plenty of the other, it seems... and then he banished the thought from his fat, bald head.
“If I can’t have a cigarette,” she sighed, “couldn’t I have a coffee for gawd’s sake?” she pleaded and he rang the bell on his desk. “Do I have to talk about her... My mother, I mean?” she asked and Ted raised his eyebrows again in surprise.
“Truthful in all things, remember,” he said... “and it may help to remove any phantoms and things that are causing you so much anxiety and distress. You do want peace of mind, don’t you?”
She nodded and wished she had a cigarette just as Monica came in with the coffee and gave Ted one of her knowing looks before she left the room. He poured and passed a cup to his irritable client.
“It has always been a delicate subject with me,” she said almost in a whisper, “I have never discussed my mother with anyone before... Oh it is so complicated... and to be honest with you, to coin a phrase... I don’t like doing it. I had hoped I never ever would need to.”
Sutherland’s face became grave.
“You don’t need to do or say anything, unless you want to, but you know, Willie, take a motor mechanic, for example... he sometimes only needs to remove the car engine and tune it to make the car run smoothly, but often he has to remove almost every nut and bolt before he can put the trouble right.”