“My name is Jonathan,” the man said softly. His other hand covered Jed's, and he patted it. “Jonathan Kepowski. I am Polish, at least my father was. My mother…” he shrugged and smiled, “Who knows. She left us when I was very young. We came to England back in sixty-two. I was ten years old. In all that time, I've never seen you.”
Jed frowned. He heard the man's words, but they meant little to him, except to confuse him still further. Twenty years of age, looking like someone who was sixty? A Polish refugee, who fished in a frozen lake and tried to kill the person who was saving him…His hands felt soft. Not an angler's hands. Not a worker's hands.
“I see you two are getting on fine.” It was the nurse, the same one who had come to check on Jed. She was pretty, as Jed realised as soon as she'd bent over him. Her face. Smooth, defined, beautiful. She smiled when she glanced down and saw Jonathan's hands holding Jed's, a smile that grew wider. “I'll get you boys some tea, shall?”
“That would be very nice, nurse Willis,” said Jonathan, reading the name badge on the young nurse's lapel. “And then, I want you to come and sit here with me and tell me all about yourself.”
Jed gaped at him, then looked at the nurse, half expecting her to brush away the invitation for the inappropriate suggestion it was. “Yes,” she said, “that would be lovely,” and off she went, a skip in her step, Jed following her with his eyes, astonished at her response.
“Very pretty,” said Jonathan, at last releasing Jed's hands and sitting up in bed.
His pyjama top was only loosely buttoned and Jed could see the ghastly hue of the man's skin, the collar bones protruding, the puce coloured nipples. It seemed to confirm all of Jed's suspicions that this was a man close to starvation.
“You mustn't worry about me,” Jonathan said, “a hot cup of tea and a few hours spent with the lovely nurse Willis, and I will be fine.”
Jed didn't know what to say. This man had the air of someone so much older, blessed with a supreme air of confidence that simply didn't fit with his wraith like physique. Jed sat for a long time just staring at the sickly pallor of the man's flesh.
“When we get out of here,” Jonathan said suddenly, “we will get to know one another better. I am going to show my gratitude to you, Jethroe. I am going to let the world know about the service that you have done for me.”
Jed held up his hand, a little embarrassed, then stopped. He felt a chill running down his spine, a knot developing in his stomach. He'd called him Jethroe. No one ever called him that. At school, some of the teachers called him Sebastian, or Seb, but never Jethroe. Jed. Always Jed. But that was when they knew his name. He hadn't had chance to tell Jonathan his name. And even if he had…Jethroe?
Nurse Willis returned, with a tray bearing two cups of steaming tea. Jed reached out and took his, and she sat on the edge of the bed and passed Jonathan's over to him. Smiling, the nurse held Jed's gaze. “I think you should go back to your bed now, there's a good boy.”
Jed stopped in the act of raising the cup to his lips and peered over the rim at Jonathan who winked, then nodded. “We'll talk again tomorrow.”
Getting to his feet, Jed slowly made his way back to his part of the ward, pausing after a few steps to look back to see the nurse pulling the curtains around the bed, creating a little private area for them both. Jed waited, and soon he realized just exactly what Jonathan had meant by Nurse Willis telling him all about herself as the sound of her moans filtered from behind the curtains.
* * *
Jed tried to sleep, but couldn't. The muffled cries from Jonathan's screened off bed drifted across to him, sending his mind into a whirlwind of desire. He pressed the pillow around his head, to block out her moans, but that didn't prevent the images looming up inside his head. He knew what they were doing and it took all of his self control not to each to his own enflamed passion. At one point, he threw himself over onto his stomach, pressing his hardness into the mattress beneath him. It helped, but only slightly. And then, so much later, as she shuffled down the ward, Jed watched her out of half-closed eyes, tucking her blouse into her skirt, readjusting her uniform, trying to press out the creases. But she wasn't doing anything about the grin on her face, or the flush of her cheeks. Then again, she probably didn't want to.
Dad came with a change of clothes and Jed slowly got himself dressed. He didn't see Nurse Willis again; she had presumably gone off duty, and had been replaced by a much older, much more serious lady who patrolled the ward with a sever looking face. Coming away from Jonathan's bed, she looked furious, muttering something caustic under her breath. Jed could guess why she was so upset, and went to go and talk to Jonathan about it. He was surprised, and a little disappointed to find his bed empty. Already discharged, Jonathan had left without saying a word.
“Perhaps he felt a bit embarrassed,” said Jed's dad.
“Embarrassed? Why would he feel embarrassed?”
“I don't know…people do, in extraordinary circumstances.”
“But I saved his life, Dad.”
“Yeah, I know…and I need to talk to you about that.”
During the taxi ride home, Dad told Jed all about the newspaper and local television interest. Apparently, they'd tried to go to the hospital, to interview Jed about what had happened, but the hospital had refused, concerned that Jed might be concussed, or even poisoned.
“Poisoned?” Jed looked worried.
“It was only a precaution – you'd swallowed quite a bit of that water, and it's filthy by all accounts. But not to worry, all the tests came out negative.”
“And so…the newspapers? They really want to interview me?”
“Yeah. You're quite a hero, Jed.”
Quite a hero indeed, as he discovered the following day when he went back to school. Mr Phillips was waiting for him at the school gate, a wide grin on his face, handlebar moustache well waxed. He clamped his arm around Jed's shoulders and gave him a fatherly hug. “Welcome back, Jed, how are you feeling?”
Shocked at the Head's total turnaround, Jed became instantly suspicious. These feelings grew as two more people loomed up behind Phillips, big grins on their faces, camera shutters blinking. Representative of the press and suddenly it all fell into place. Jed could see the front page now, Phillips and Jed together, smiling happily as if they were the closest of buddies. Total crap.
In the Head's office, there were more photographs and an interview. Did you know the person, what made you dive down into the water, didn't the thought of being drowned ever cross your mind, have you ever done anything like this before, would you do it again, what's it like knowing you've saved someone's life?
There followed a special assembly. Jed gaped when he saw his dad sitting there, proud as punch, and next to him some large guy with no hair, black suit, chain around his neck. The Mayor? More photographers, and a television crew, jostled for position, calling out to him to smile, wave, shake the Head's hand. Jed blinked repeatedly as the flashguns went off, and then cringed with embarrassment as the entire school stood up to cheer and applaud. He shuffled around awkwardly on the stage. He wasn't anybody special, never ever thought he would be, happy being just an ordinary, everyday sort of person. He had few ambitions, in fact he rarely thought about what he wanted to do with his life. It was effort enough just getting through the day, one at a time. All of this attention, it was beyond anything he had ever sought. It was beyond painful – death by slow torture.
“Sometimes we go through life, living from day to day, never thinking that anything out of the ordinary or unexpected is ever likely to happen to us, to make us change our minds about who we are and what our place in the world is.” Phillips was enjoying himself, all of the cameras turned on him. He'd laboured long and hard over the words he now recounted from his script, that was for sure. Every so often he would cast a glance towards Jed, giving him a little nod, before twiddling at the sides of his moustache and diving once more into his speech, “I've been a teacher for over thirty years now and I'v
e seen many things, believe you me. I've had to deal with some difficult pupils, solving problems to do with relationships, misunderstandings…unpleasantness…” A broader smile in Jed's direction. Jed squirmed. “But sometimes an incident comes along that reminds me why I do this job. An act of kindness, a moment of thoughtfulness that reaffirms my faith in human nature. What Jed did, saving that young man's life, was beyond selflessness, it was sheer, unbridled bravery and it is an honour to stand here this morning and salute one of this school's most unassuming and yet most talented students – Jed Meres!” Phillips stepped back from the rostrum, a dramatic sweep of his hand towards Jed, inviting him to come forward as the assembled throng rose as one, the applause booming out, school-mates cheering, whooping. The staff all stood up, cameras flashed, Dad put his face in his hands and cried, the Mayor in his black suit smiled so broadly it looked like he'd split his face in two. And Jed sat there, wondering what to do next. As the noise in the hall reached fever pitch, Phillips came over and gently pulled Jed to his feet, steering him towards the rostrum. Jed's ultimate fears were about to be faced – he had to make a speech, in front of his peers. He felt his stomach turn to mush, his knees buckle, and he wanted to run and hide somewhere very, very far away. But he couldn't, there was nowhere to go, so he did the only thing practical at that moment: he fainted.
4
Coming down the stairs the following morning, Jed managed a groan for a 'good morning', then slumped down in a chair next to his dad, who put a cup of tea down in front of him. Jed looked at it, wondering whether he should drink it or pour it over his head. “God, Dad, I am such an idiot.”
“Don't beat yourself up,” dad was buttering some toast. “Everyone understands, Jed. You've been through quite a lot, and then that thing at school…I should have warned you. Sorry.” He smiled, a guilty look on his face, and gently slid the toast over to his son. “I spoke to Mr Phillips and he said not to come in until Monday. He's been very kind, very understanding.”
Jed didn't answer, choosing to nibble at the corner of the slice of toast instead. There was only one reason why Phillips was very kind, very understanding and that was so he'd look good in the papers. Jed knew it, and he guessed that his dad knew it too. But he didn't push anything, content to just sit and feel awful. The embarrassment of it gnawed away at him, the pictures coming into his head constantly. How would he ever be able to show his face in public again? He could already hear the taunts in the school playground. No doubt he'd have to butt Watson again and, like a great big circle, it would all come round once more and he'd be the villain again, like always. He groaned.
“The mayor said that when you're feeling up to it, he'd like to honour you at the Town Hall. Just you and me, a few invited guests…” Dad looked away for a moment, his voice suddenly cracking.
Jed frowned, “Dad? What's up?”
“Nothing. I just thought your mother might have called, that's all.”
He got up and went to the sink, his back towards his son. Jed chewed at his bottom lips. His mum, what would she make of all this. If he was honest, she hadn't really come into his thoughts at all over the last few days but now, after what his dad had said, it was curious that she hadn't phoned, or sent a letter. Anything at all, just to show she cared.
But, perhaps she didn't. If she did, she would never have left.
* * *
Jed wandered through the streets of Liscard, head down, shuffling self-consciously, half-expecting people to suddenly jump out and grab him, shaking him, congratulating him at one moment for being a hero, the next berating him for being such a wimp. To faint at an assembly especially arranged just for him – the shame of it.
But nobody did jump out at him. No one gave him any attention at all; the shop assistant in Bookland never recognised him at the best of times, despite him going in there at least twice a week. In a peculiar sort of way, Jed felt a little deflated by this lack of attention. Although he dreaded the idea of people shouting out at him in the street, the fact that not a single person gave him so much as a second glance galled him a little. Strange thing fame, and so fickle.
There was somebody, however. As Jed came out of the shop, clutching a copy of Sven Hassel's 'March Battalion', he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Matthew standing there, looking slightly self-conscious. Jed froze, eyes smarting.
“Shit. Matthew.”
Matthew. Jed hadn't seen him for well over five years. He wouldn't even know if he was still alive had it not been for the traditional Christmas and birthday cards. Always the same message, All my best. It never wavered, never changed. And now here he was, standing there, looking at him with those piercing blue eyes of his. “Hello kidder.”
Wincing, Jed felt a mixture of shock and anger coursing through him. Five years, with not a single phone call. Some brother he was.
“Let's go and get a coffee.”
So they did, in the coffee shop next door to Bookland. Matthew gently laid down the two cups of espresso then grinned, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “I saw you on the tele last night,” he grinned even more broadly, “made me feel quite proud.”
“Really? Why's that then?”
“Don't be like that, Jed. I'm your brother, I've got a right to feel proud of you.”
“Who says?”
Matthew drew in a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Look, I know I should have got in touch sooner, what with Mum and everything…but, you know…”
“Yeah. You've been busy.” Jed wanted his words to sound sharp, and they did and he was pleased to see the pain running across Matthew's face. “So how did you find out?”
“About Mum?” Jed nodded, his eyes firmly locked on his brother's. Matthew shrugged, “She wrote to me.”
“Wrote to you? What did she say?”
“Just that she was leaving your dad – and you. And would I try and explain things to you, when I got the chance.”
“Like now?”
“Like now.”
“So go on then, explain it to me.”
“Jed, I know you're angry but—”
“No you don't – you don't know anything about how I feel, or what's been happening. All you think about is yourself, that's all you've ever thought about.” Jed breathed hard, struggling to keep control.
“No it isn't, Jed. You don't understand. You think you do, but you don't.”
“Well you explain it to me then. You try and make me understand, because you know what? I don't. All I know is that I've got to get up every morning and see my dad's face, watch him falling apart inch by inch. Do you know what that feels like, have you got a single clue? But, you know what, none of this is about me, not really. I've got my life ahead of me – but my dad…he thought his whole future was mapped out for him, living it out with Mum, growing old together…” He had to look away, his own words biting deep, bringing tears to his eyes. A silence settled between them and when Jed recovered, he looked at his brother again. “So, you tell me what I don't understand.”
“It's happened before.”
Jed took a moment to register what Matthew had said. He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “What do you mean, it's happened before?”
“Mum. When I was a kid. She ran off with some other bloke, leaving me and my dad to get through it, together.”
The enormity of Matthew's words struck like dead weights slamming into Jed's chest. He felt crushed, unable to comprehend the meaning of what Matthew said. “But…but Dad…he never said – never said anything!”
“He probably didn't know. When he met Mum, her and my dad were divorced. I was living with Nan, my dad down south, trying to pick up the pieces of a life smashed because Mum had decided to have it off with someone else.”
Stunned, Jed didn't know what to say. What could he say? His brother had lived with these truths for years, and had never spoken about any of it. That was a huge burden to carry around. And now, here he sat, off-loading it all, in one great lump.
Jed felt overwhelmed.
“I'm sorry, Jed. I should have got in touch as soon as I found out, but I didn't know how to, or what to say. I wasn't sure how your dad would react to me turning up on the doorstep. I thought about writing, but…Anyway, then you were on the news and I thought it was best for me to just come on over. I waited for you, outside your house. I followed you up here. You still like your books. How many have you got now, a thousand?” He laughed. “You know, I've only ever read two books in my life. The first one—”
“Fuck off, Matthew – I'm not interested in anything about you, all right? Just tell me what you know, and then piss off back to your life.”
For a moment Jed thought he'd gone too far. A look came over Matthew's face, dark, menacing. But the moment passed, and his brother went over to the counter, got himself another coffee, then came back with a heavy tread, no doubt dreading what he had to say next. He took a sip of coffee and stared at Jed for a few moments. “All right. Here it is. The man Mum's run off with, the guy she's been seeing behind your dad's back – he's the same one she ran off with when I was little. The same one that broke my dad's heart has now broken your dad's heart. Mum's in love with him, and she always has been. That's why I know exactly what you're going through, because it's all happened before. All of it – the letters, the empty house, Dad crying in the night. The only difference is, I was so much younger. And Nan, of course. Thank God for Nan. She looked after me whilst Dad…well, he went to pieces. Tried to find her, couldn't. Started drinking, got into fights, got arrested, spent a few months inside. When he came out, he went down to London. Not a word to me. Not for two years. Two bloody years…” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the table top, gathering his thoughts, regaining some composure. “I hated him for that. He just abandoned me, left me with Nan.”
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