He Wt up quickly and went back into the ward. He saw that Minister was sleeping and he was glad for him, and wished himself likewise. He took some money out of his drawer and went down the corridor to the phone. He knew there could be no reply in the middle of the morning. They would both be downstairs in the shop. But he had to verify that nothing was wrong at home. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming responsibility for his whole family. He wanted to care for them all, even Esther, whom he could now name without bitterness. He wanted desperately to go home and he cursed the white that was keeping him.
He dialled the number and idly hung the receiver on his finger, waiting for confirmation of a no-reply. Then, to his horror, a woman’s voice, white-coated, and half recognisable, answered the phone.
‘Hullo,’ Norman shouted. ‘Who’s that, for God’s sake?’ He was insulted by the presence of a stranger in his home, and he panicked at the familiarity of the voice.
There was an obvious hesitation at the other end of the line, followed by an embarrassed giggle.
‘It’s your old Auntie Sadie,’ the voice said.
Norman felt his heart leap in fear. Auntie Sadie. who came only in crisis, who moved from one death-bed to another, collecting rattles like butterflies. ‘What are you doing there?’ he screamed at her.
‘Just visiting,’ she said innocently, but she was as unconvincing as an undertaker on a social call.
‘Is Pop ill?’ Norman whispered. He had to know the truth.
‘Ill, ill?’ Auntie Sadie 'said, with the repetition and surprise of a bad liar. ‘What should be the matter with your father?’
‘Can I speak to him then?’
‘In the shop he is with Bella,’ Auntie Sadie said quickly. and with a little more confidence.
‘What are you doing there then?’ he asked again.
‘I’m visiting, Norman,’ she said with finality. ‘D’you want I should come to see you?’
‘How long have you been there?’ Norman hesitated.
‘Yesterday I came,’ Auntie Sadie said.
‘How long are you staying?’
‘It depends,’ she said.
‘What does it depend on?’ Norman practically shouted at her.
‘Until I outstay my welcome,’ she laughed. That could have meant anything.
He now had grounds for his fear, and he made up his mind to plan his escape from the hospital and go home and see for himself. ‘Is Bella coming this afternoon?’ he said casually, ‘I don’t think so. Terry is ill, and the shop is busy.’
‘What about Pop?’
‘A bit tired he is. Such a long journey it is for him. You’ll be home soon, please God. Another few weeks, they say.’ She was trying to get off the subject of visits.
‘Will you come, then,’ he asked, bringing her right back. Again, the undeniable hesitation, ‘I’ll stay and keep your father company. In the shop,’ she added.
‘He’s ill, isn’t he,’ Norman said quietly.
‘Who’s ill? Who should be ill?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Norman said.
He put the phone down. He was now determined to get out of the place. He wondered if his father was dying and he offered a quick and silent prayer that he would wait until he could get home. He walked back to the ward. He knew he couldn’t leave until after lunch. He would be missed too soon, and brought back before he had time to get far enough. He would bide his time until the visitors were due to arrive. In the confusion of their comings and goings, he could slip out quietly. His only problem was clothes. His father and Bella had refused to bring his clothes to the hospital, and he hadn’t worried about that until now. He toyed with the idea of taking Minister’s while he was asleep, but they would be much too large for him. In any case, the idea repelled him. He might catch his ministerial despair. He sat on his bed. He knew it was an insurmountable problem. A man couldn’t go through the streets in broad daylight, dressed in pyjamas, and hope to pass unnoticed. He would have to wait until it was dark. Then he would slip out of the corridor window, on his way supposedly to the lavatory. Then he would start walking or risk a lift, if he could by nightfall think up a feasible story to tell the driver. He felt pleased with his decision and the nagging anxiety for his father, and his desperate need to see him, blinded him to the risks that he would be taking. He tried to picture the flat with Auntie Sadie upstairs, and Bella and his father in the shop. And Auntie Sadie looked wrong there all alone, and he couldn’t see his father in the shop either. He didn’t know how he could hold out till nightfall.
He gripped the sides of the bed, and stared at the floor. There they were again. Just a few of them, but enough to confirm their presence. It was only a matter of time before they multiplied. But what could you expect in a place as filthy as this one. He’d be glad to be home. In face of his other anxieties, he had forgotten the filth he had left in his own bedroom. For a moment he couldn’t understand what he was doing in the place, and what kind of sickness was he supposed to have that he should land up with a bunch of lunatics. He sniffed to test whether they had brought their smell with them. But as yet, the air was clear and his body was free from irritation. He looked up from the floor and stared ahead of him. The sun pounded through the windows, and like a projector, threw dust-laden beams across the ward. ‘Why can’t they keep this bloody place clean?’ he sobbed. He was terrified that they would come in their droves and crawl upon him before he could get out of the place and see his father. He couldn’t cope with everything at the same time. He dared not think of the clothes problem, but he prayed for the dark to come quickly. ‘Dear God,’ he whispered, ‘let him live, and I’ll come off the pills, I promise.’
The nurse appeared at the door of the ward. ‘Norman,’ he shouted. ‘You’re wanted on the telephone.’
He stood up, but fear held him to his bed. ‘He’s dead,’ he whispered to himself. He looked around the ward. It was practically empty. Minister slept in a sad heap on his bed. The sight of his sleeping figure filled Norman with fury. Why should anybody be unaware of his own agony.
‘Minister,’ he screamed across the ward.
Minister jumped up with a start, and fearing that his visitors had already arrived, he leapt out of bed and made for the door. Norman noticed that he still had his boots on. ‘Norman,’ the nurse called again. ‘You’re wanted on the phone.’
‘Who is it,’ he whispered.
‘I think it’s your father.’
He felt hot tears run down his face with a surge of relief and gratitude. He hurried to the phone.
When Auntie Sadie had finished speaking to Norman, Rabbi Zweck had called weakly from his bedroom. ‘Who was it?’ He strained his voice to be heard. Auntie Sadie hurried to his room. ‘It was the wrong number,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Such a long time with a wrong number,’ he muttered. She didn’t deny it, but she was afraid to tell him the truth of the call for fear of upsetting him. For a moment, she hated Norman for what he was doing to his father. She made a show of tidying up the bed, and Rabbi Zweck gripped her hand as she plumped the pillows. ‘Is Norman, isn’t it?’ he said.
She nodded her head.
‘He’s worried I don’t go see him. He knows. I must talk to him,’ he said decisively. ‘Bring me please the phone.’ But Auntie Sadie was firm. He was in no state to talk to Norman. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Is too much for you. You don’t need extra worries. Wait, a few weeks you’ll be up and about. You can go see him, or perhaps, please God, he’ll come home.’
‘Sadie,’ he begged, ‘is not enough worries the boy has got, he must worry also for his father. Bring please the phone. I should just talk to him.’
But Auntie Sadie went on tidying the already neat dressing-table.
‘Sadie,’ Rabbi Zweck said. ‘You already dusted. If I know he worries my son, then I also worry. Is no good for me I should worry. I feel better I should speak to him. Bring please the phone.’
‘All right,’ she capitulated, ‘but only for a few minu
tes.’ ‘Just so long he knows I’m alive,’ Rabbi Zweck said. He smiled at her as she left the room.
Aunt Sadie pulled the telephone across the hall. Fully stretched, it just managed to reach the door of the bedroom. She helped him out of his bed, sat him in a chair and wrapped a blanket around him. She dialled the number and gave him the receiver, while with her handkerchief, she wiped the sweat from his forehead.
‘Please, is the hospital?’ Rabbi Zweck asked. ‘I should speak to Norman Zweck.’ He gave the name a defiant dignity, and he engaged a smile on his face in preparation for the cheer he would put into his voice. While he waited, he pressed the receiver close to his ear, anxious to be part of any of the sounds of Norman’s habitation. He heard fading footsteps, and a clatter of cutlery. Then there was a long silence, broken by a distant scream of someone’s name. The echo of the name down the phone unnerved him, not only because of the pitch, but because there was something in the voice that was vaguely familiar. He heard a scuffing of boots, and silence again. The sweat dripped from his forehead and he shivered.
‘Is not good for you,’ Auntie Sadie said helplessly. ‘Wait, wait,’ he said. ‘He is sleeping perhaps.’ ‘Then let him sleep.’ Auntie Sadie could not hide the malice in her voice. ‘You should be sleeping too.’
‘Is a long time,’ Rabbi Zweck murmured.
‘Let me hold it for you.’
But he wouldn’t give her the receiver. He wanted to hear Norman from the ward to the telephone and all the sounds that attended him.
When Norman reached the phone, he lifted the receiver to his ear, and listened to his father’s breathing. ‘Pop?’ he said softly.
‘Norman. Norman. What’s this I should be ill? Who says? Auntie Sadie runs down to the shop. Tells me such a story. I’m ill all of a sudden.’ He laughed. He was pleased with his tale. He nodded at Auntie Sadie and she returned her approval.
‘You haven’t been to see me for almost a month,’ Norman said. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
Rabbi Zweck hesitated. ‘In the shop,’ he said brightly, ‘suddenly we’re so busy. And Bella comes to see you. When you come home I see you.’
‘What’s that bitch doing there?’
Rabbi Zweck pressed the receiver hard against his ear, but Auntie Sadie had caught the word. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Holiday,’ she mouthed at Rabbi Zweck.
‘A holiday,’ he practically shouted into ‘the phone. ‘Imagine,’ he said, ‘your Auntie Sadie takes a holiday.’ He giggled.
‘Where is she now?’ Norman said.
‘Downstairs. In the shop. I ran to phone you. She’s with Bella.’
‘Why can’t you come and see me?’ he asked again.
Rabbi Zweck sighed. ‘To tell the truth,’ he said, and it was a half-truth he was telling him. ‘I get upset. With the long journey, and the place you know I don’t like.’
'You think I enjoy it?’ Norman said. ‘It’s bloody filthy here. You’d think they’d clean the floors once in a while. The whole bloody place is crawling.’
Auntie Sadie saw a pallor spread over Rabbi Zweck’s cheek. ‘Goodbye, goodbye,’ she mouthed anxiously.
Rabbi Zweck felt helpless. He couldn’t understand how all the symptoms of Norman’s illness seemed suddenly to have returned. He didn’t know what to say so he giggled again nervously. But he was sick at heart, and his eyes were burning.
‘It’s nothing to laugh at,’ Norman said angrily. His anxiety for his father had already waned, and he was able to concentrate on his age-old problem. ‘Everybody’s complaining,’ he went on. ‘One of the patients is on strike. He won’t go to bed because the sheets are dirty. He sits in a chair all night. Maybe I’ll join him.’ Norman was not confident as yet in his own argument to hold it alone, and he had to invent support for it. ‘The whole fucking ward’ll be on strike if they don’t do something about it.’
Rabbi Zweck winced. He wanted to put the phone down and weep. For a moment he felt indignant at the dirty surroundings his son was subjected to, and he resolved to write a strong letter to the management. He was ready to believe Norman rather than acknowledge his son’s sickness. But he knew that dirty sheets were no more present than silver-fish. He couldn’t encourage his son’s madness. ‘It’ll get better,’ he said weakly. ‘You’ll see, in a few days, is better. In a few days. I come to see you. Go back to bed now. Is sleep you need.’
‘Jesus,’ Norman screamed, ‘you keep on about sleep. Why don’t you bloody well put me to sleep and have done with it once and for all.’
‘Norman, Norman,’ Rabbi Zweck pleaded.
‘Pop,’ Norman said quietly, ‘you’ve got to get me out of here.’
‘I come. I come. In a few days I come,’ Rabbi Zweck said. ‘I’ll see. I’ll talk to the doctor. Auntie Sadie’s calling me,’ he said with sudden inspiration. He couldn’t take much more of it. ‘I must go. In a few days, I come to see you.’
‘If you want,’ Norman said helplessly. ‘Tell Bella to bring my clothes when she comes,’ he said. He was confirmed in his blunted imagination that there was nothing wrong at home, and he had given up all ideas of escape. But a suit of clothes was always handy.
‘I’ll tell her,’ Rabbi Zweck said. ‘She’ll come tomorrow. Look after yourself,’ he added. ‘I see you soon.’
‘Goodbye, Pop,’ Norman said. ‘Take it easy.’
Rabbi Zweck put down the phone and sunk back into the chair.
‘I told you you shouldn’t talk. Look how it upsets you.’ ‘Is the same, he is,’ he moaned. ‘Exactly the same. What they do in such places?’ he added bitterly. ‘At least,’ he added, ‘about me, he’s not worried any more. That’s something.’
‘You must go to sleep,’ Auntie Sadie said. ‘You must rest. Only rest will make you better. Come. I’ll take away the pillows.’ She helped him back into bed. Rabbi Zweck took hold of her hand. ‘Sadie,’ he said, ‘very hard I’ve been thinking. And I know I promised Sarah, God rest her soul. But not for ever I shall live. I know it. Poor Sarah, she didn’t know. She was getting better, she thought. Remember how we planned a holiday? Poor Sarah. But I, I know. How long should I live, Sadie? This attack, another attack, who knows?’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ Sadie said.
‘Listen to me Sadie,’ he gripped her hand very hard. ‘I’ve been thinking.’ He paused, loosening his grip, and letting his hand drop on the eiderdown, he said, ‘I should like to see my Esther.’
Auntie Sadie was glad of his request, but sad that he had to be so ill before he gave up his pride. ‘I’ll write to her,’ she said. ‘You sleep now while I write to her a letter. She’ll come soon. Something for you to look forward to,’ she smiled, tucking him under the chin.
‘So good you are to me Sadie,’ he said. ‘Now, I’ll sleep.’
She closed the door quietly. She would write immediately and she prayed that Esther would get to her father on time.
When Norman got back to the ward, they were laying the table for lunch. He didn’t feel hungry; the white always took away his appetite. Yet he had to make a show of eating or the nurses would get suspicious. Sometimes he and Minister managed to dish their food onto the plates of the other patients who, although they had been robbed of all else, still retained their crude and gruff appetites. Minister was still sleeping. A nurse called over to him, and Norman went up to his bed. He would wake him gently, knowing the fears that would accompany his waking. ‘Minister,’ he whispered, ‘it’s lunch-time.’ He wanted to make it clear he wasn’t waking him for any other purpose. Minister turned over. He was already awake and full of dread of the coming visit. Wearily he got out of bed. ‘Why don’t you take off your boots?’ Norman said.
‘I may be called suddenly to a meeting,’ he said. ‘In any case, they’re a damn sight cleaner than the beds in this place.’ Norman heartily agreed with him and helped him on with his dressing-gown. The feeling of kinship between them was mutual. Minister suddenly put his arm round Norman’s shoulder and sat him down
on the bed next to him. ‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else, but I think both of us might be lunatics. I mean, everyone says the place is clean, and you and me can. see with our own eyes it’s bloody filthy, so is there something wrong with them or is it us.’
‘Let’s have our lunch,’ Norman said. He himself had often been plagued with similar doubts, but he dared not give in to them, and he didn’t want Minister confusing him further.
Minister didn’t move. ‘I wish I was dead,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve ‘ad enough of it all. Enough of the lousy Cabinet too. A lot of jerks. Nobody listens to me no more. They think you’re nuts as well. What’s the use.’ He tied his dressing gown around him. ‘The only thing I got left is kicking the old bucket,’ he said, ‘and even that’ll belong to my lousy Mum when it’s all over. There must be somewhere in this godforsaken ‘ole where you Can go and do it and keep it for yourself. Just fancy, you and me,’ he said, ‘living a whole bloody lifetime in this filth.’
‘Let’s go and have lunch,’ Norman said. He sympathised with Minister, but he wasn’t altogether happy with the way Minister equated his problem with his own. He’d never had any doubts at all that Minister was off his nut, and only very occasionally had he had vague doubts about his own sanity. But today, on the threshold of his ravings, he had no doubts at all. He felt pity for all the madmen who surrounded him, nurses and doctors included. He took Minister’s arm and led him to the table. They had always managed to reserve a table for themselves. They were each so much alone, that they were landed together, and the other patients donated them such privacy as they could. Today, however, their table was already occupied by a new patient who obviously didn’t know the form. He sat there, timidly staring in astonished disbelief at the horrible mixture of food on the plate in front of him. He looked up and saw Norman and Minister standing on either side of him. It felt like an arrest, and automatically he got up, and Norman sensed at least part of the man’s history. He knew just how he had been brought to this place, and probably not for the first time, because his reaction had the immediacy and automation of long-standing habit. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said, ‘sit down. There’s room for all of us.’
The Elected Member Page 19