In Pieces

by Nick Hopton

  ‘Extraordinary. The world keeps turning, eh?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Oh nothing, just thinking out loud. So, what’s she like to work for, this Mini? She left just before I arrived.’

  ‘She’s a tough cookie and I’ve heard some of the old hands say her sense of humour has suffered since losing her husband to a nineteen-year-old bimbo, but she’s much better than Dougy. We seem to have hit it off okay. And she was really sweet when I broke my news…’

  ‘What news?’ Si interrupted Bill’s breathless flow.

  Bill looked surprised. ‘Oh, didn’t you know?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you’ve been out of touch for a while and all….’

  ‘What?’ Si wanted to know.

  ‘Well, I came out in August. It just suddenly became obvious that it was the right thing to do. And God, what a relief. I can’t tell you how much better I feel now.’

  This hit Si like a bolt from the blue. He’d never for a moment considered Bill might be gay. Extrovert, trying to make a point, a fashion victim… All these, yes. But gay, no. God, how dense he was. Talk about wrapped up in his own world and impervious to others…

  The situation was new to Si; he wondered what he should say? ‘Congratulations’? ‘Yeah, great’? ‘I never imagined…’? Now it was his turn to be stuck for words. ‘But isn’t that fantastic?’

  Bill nodded, clearly pleased by Si’s reaction.

  ‘Have you told your parents?’

  ‘Yeah, they were really cool about it. Amazing to think I was so terrified. I guess until you test them, you never really know how they’re going to react. I went up to Scotland especially to tell them, and all my family are being excellent.’

  ‘Great.’ Si wondered what to say next. ‘So do you have a steady boyfriend?’

  Bill laughed loudly. ‘Steady? God, no. The steadiest thing I’ve got is a hangover. I also have a nipple ring.’ He laughed again.

  Si realised his eyes were as wide as plates. But he found he couldn’t do anything to look less surprised.

  If he noticed Bill didn’t show it. ‘I’m just having fun. I don’t want to tie myself down yet. No commitment, that’s my motto. And I’m having a ball.’ A wicked grin spread from ear to ear.

  ‘Great. I’m really glad things are going well for you.’

  ‘Listen, I must go. I’ve stayed far too long as it is. Oh, and before I forget, everyone sent love and said to get well soon. They want to do a feature on you, I think. But I’ll try and hold them off for as long as possible.’

  ‘Thanks. Please do. I can’t think of anything worse than being interviewed. And Bill…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I appreciate you coming.’ Bill raised a camp eyebrow and Si reddened. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said. They both laughed again and Bill left.

  ~

  A week later, Penny pushed a wheelchair into the room. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘You, of course. The doctor says you’re now strong enough to join the walking wounded.’

  ‘Walking?’ Si cast her a sarcastic look. ‘You reckon?’

  Penny was unmoved. ‘If not actually walking, then let’s say the rolling wounded. Okay?’

  Si groaned. He didn’t feel ready for such a big challenge. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Of course. You can’t lie in bed forever you know. You’ve got to get up and about. Come on, brighten up. You’ll enjoy it. Just think, you can visit Mary.’

  ‘Really?’ Although Si knew Mary was in the same hospital and had spoken to her on the phone, he hadn’t imagined she was so close. ‘How far away is she?’

  ‘Not far… Up one floor and a couple of wards across, in North Wing.’ This meant little to Si as since his arrival he’d spent all his time in his room. But, for Mary, he was prepared to make the effort and explore.

  ~

  Si scooted along the shiny corridor, his rubber wheels squeaking when he turned corners. He negotiated the lift without mishap—why, he wondered, had it seemed such an obstacle during the two days in which he’d mentally planned this trip? He’d even made Penny sketch him a floor plan of the hospital. But now, after short recces into the ward and offices surrounding his room, he was on his way.

  The North Wing was a recent extension to the old Edwardian hospital. As he came out of the lift, Si immediately felt the difference. Everything was brighter, slicker and more modern. It felt more like an art gallery than a hospital. Si imagined that even the scalpels were sharper round here. He followed the directions Penny had given him and wondered if he’d been right to refuse her assistance. She’d wanted to push his wheelchair, but they both knew the offer had little to do with Si’s physical strength. He’d already proved he could manoeuvre his vehicle. Penny’s concern stemmed from the conversations they’d had about Mary, particularly Si’s fears that she might blame him in some way for her injuries.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t set the bomb off.’

  ‘No, I know. But I did set up the lunch. Any other day and it would have been fine, but…’ Si’s self-confidence seemed to have been as wounded as his flesh.

  ‘Twaddle. Now look. She’ll be dying to see you. Didn’t she say so on the phone?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘No buts. Okay?’ Penny’s tough look, a look Si had come to recognise meant no nonsense, calmed him.

  But now that he was about to reach her ward, his resolve was faltering. ‘I’d like to see Mary Cunningham, please.’

  The nurse behind the desk looked at him. ‘Are you her boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Well, she’s been expecting you. Come on, I’ll take you down.’ The nurse took a firm hold of his wheelchair and manoeuvred him expertly down the corridor. Si sank back and suddenly realised he was exhausted. The effort of getting to the ward had been the most exercise he’d done since the bomb.

  The nurse stopped outside a swing door with a porthole above Si’s head. She peeked through and then entered. ‘I won’t be a moment. Don’t run away now.’ She threw a parting grin at him and winked.

  Si waited for what seemed like an hour. He wanted to stand up and look through the window to see what was going on. But his legs weren’t up to that yet. They were still covered in starry red scars, and the deep wound on his groin, where a piece of glass the size of a sideplate had sliced him, was still extremely delicate.

  ‘Okay, let’s be seeing you then,’ the nurse said cheerily. She made to push the wheelchair forward.

  ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.’

  Something in Si’s look must have struck her because she backed off without a word. Smiling encouragement, she held the door open.

  The first thing that Si noticed was that Mary was not alone. An old lady stood between him and the bed. She had a short white bob and wore a tweed skirt and cream blouse. Her ruddy complexion betrayed a country life. She watched him intently as he paused in the doorway.

  Beyond her Si could make out Mary’s head on the pillow, the rest of her body concealed beneath white sheets arranged in a strange shape—presumably they concealed various contraptions to take the weight of the bedclothes. He’d been warned that she had been ‘very unwell’ and that she was still a long way from recovery. But he hadn’t expected to find her such an invalid.

  ‘You must be Simon.’ Elspeth stepped forward. ‘Come on in, my dear, we’ve been expecting you.’

  Si trundled forward. Mary’s grandmother was more or less as he’d expected, only more so. Her presence seemed to exude calm. But Si couldn’t make the jump from this lady to Mary’s prissy mother. Perhaps Beatrice Cunningham had been adopted?

  ‘I’m afraid she’s dozed off, but I imagine she’ll wake any minute.’ Elspeth looked at him gently. ‘She’s been so looking forward to seeing you.’

  ‘It’s nice to meet you. I mean, having heard so much about you.’

  ‘Yes, and you, dear.’ Elspeth gave him a knowing look. ‘I’d expected Mar
y to bring you down to see me at some stage, but one never knows what the future holds…’

  Si nodded. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Better. Better than she was, that is. She can now sleep by herself, which is a blessing. Before she would have woken up every hour but for the sedation.’ Silence descended on the room.

  Si plucked up courage. ‘Will she walk…again? You know what I mean?’

  Elspeth pursed her lips. ‘Oh, of course she will. The doctors think it will take time, of course; but yes, she will walk.’

  Si wasn’t entirely convinced. Elspeth seemed to be reassuring herself rather than him. But now wasn’t the time to challenge her. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, has she said anything about me?’

  ‘Oh goodness, yes, of course she has. Lots, in fact.’

  Si persevered. ‘I mean, I’ve been really worried that she’ll blame me for what happened.’

  Elspeth looked at him maternally and thought for a moment before answering. ‘I can’t answer that, my dear. You’ll need to ask her.’

  A thin voice from behind her made an inaudible sound. Elspeth turned to face the bed and Si edged forwards, his hands on the wheelrims.

  ‘Sorry, darling, what’s that you said?’

  This time the voice was stronger. ‘I want to see him…’

  Si could hear the pain riding on each syllable. In response to Elspeth’s gesture he rolled up to the bedside so that his head was level with Mary’s chest. Her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. He tried to read her expression, but the neutral cast was inscrutable. Taking a deep breath, his heart beating madly, he spoke in a hoarse whisper. ‘Mary… It’s Si.’

  Mary’s lips twitched. With what was obviously a great effort, she twisted her neck about thirty degrees towards him. Si leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bed.

  ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

  He choked back the emotion which threatened to betray him. He had decided to be strong and his resolve was being tested to the full. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  The response came clear and quick. ‘Me too.’ At last, Mary managed to move her head far enough to see him. The effect was instantaneous. Her smile shone through and the passive veil evaporated. ‘Oh Si… What a pair we are.’

  In the many scenarios Si had imagined for their first reunion, this had not featured. He was unsure what to say. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you know… We’re not exactly the most mobile of couples are we?’

  If it hadn’t hurt so much, Si would have laughed with relief. ‘I suppose not. Never a dull moment with us.’

  ‘No. Never.’ They looked at each other in silence. It seemed to Si that he was seeing Mary for the first time.

  Elspeth discreetly backed out of the door. Passing the nurse in the corridor, she smiled. ‘Pure Tristan and Isolde. I think she’ll be okay now.’

  The nurse nodded sagely. This eccentric old woman had certainly added colour to the ward in the past few weeks, although it was often difficult to understand what she was on about.

  ‘Oh, and nurse?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Elspeth put a bony finger to her cracked lips. ‘Shhh… I wouldn’t bother disturbing them for a while. They’ve got quite a lot to catch up on.’

  With a slight spring in her step and feeling lighter of heart than she had since hearing of her granddaughter’s injuries, Elspeth walked towards the hospital gardens. It was high time she got some fresh air. She’d been cooped up in that room for far too long without a break. Yes, some fresh air and a few laps of the little garden; that should do the trick.

  ~

  The ambulance dropped Si off at his flat. A golden light blurred the edges of the Georgian buildings, but only a few parchment leaves remained on the trees lining the street. Last time he’d been here, it had been a scorching summer’s day and the fully laden trees had cast a deep, dappling shade over the pavement.

  ‘You sure you don’t want a hand, now?’ offered Mike, the ambulance man.

  ‘No, it’s only up one flight of stairs. You guys have already done more than enough. Thanks for everything.’ Si shook Mike’s hand and, placing his crutches gingerly on the pavement, hobbled slowly towards the front door.

  The key was in his pocket. He took it out of the jeans his mother had brought him while he was in hospital—his own clothes had been shredded and blood-sodden in the blast. Balancing precariously on one crutch, he turned to wave goodbye to Mike. The ambulance pulled gently out from the kerb and swung off towards the river.

  The plane trees at the end of the street refracted the thin, November sunshine, and the church clock struck the half hour. Si watched the splintering light, mesmerised by the breaking colours.

  Someone, his mother he presumed, had cleared his mail from the shelf in the communal hallway; a couple of envelopes from that morning’s post awaited him.

  It took him a while to get up the stairs. But eventually he was home.

  Si had insisted that no one should bring him home from the hospital; he’d decided he needed to complete the painful journey of the last weeks alone, to mark an ending—that was how he’d explained it to his mother. She’d seemed to understand, but he still half-expected to find her waiting for him. However, the flat was empty. It looked tidier than he’d ever seen it—except for when he’d first viewed it with an estate agent three years before. The late morning light streamed through the French windows and, although there was no heat in it, the illumination raised Si’s spirits briefly. The glass table sparkled with recent polishing and a few magazines, which he’d bought almost two months ago, just before the bomb blew his life apart, sat in a neat pile to one side. He deliberately untidied them.

  For a moment, Si wondered what to do next. He unloaded a few possessions from the small canvas bag: some neatly folded clothes, a personal stereo, two classical music CDs and a book. Then in the absence of inspiration, he did what he had repeatedly imagined he would do.

  He’d pictured this moment of homecoming so vividly over the past weeks; his imagination had helped him during the long hours on his back, sandwiched between starched hospital sheets, trying not to breathe too deeply to minimise the pain across his chest. From the fragments of memory and the hours of solitary meditation forced upon him, he had put together the pieces, creating a picture which had previously eluded him. And one thought—his intended first action on returning home—had helped him smile when even his sapling faith bent in the howling gale of the horror, and he thought he could begin to understand what was meant by walking through the valley of death. And even after the pain had dulled and he became mobile, whizzing around the hospital corridors in between his visits to Mary’s bedside, the homecoming vision continued to burn brightly.

  The video camera was where he’d left it, in the cupboard next to the boiler. He brushed off half a year’s dust and weighed the cyclopean box in his hands. Surprisingly light for such a valuable load. He recalled how he’d grown to dislike the machine when Mary insisted he use it. Now her nagging seemed inspired.

  Si stood silently for several moments lost in thought. Like an old man in a retirement home.

  Snapping to, he rummaged at the back of the cupboard for the wire he knew would be there. Then he plugged one end into the camera and the other into the back of the video machine. After a few minutes he succeeded in getting a picture and rewound the tape to the beginning.

  Si felt focused, controlled and ethereally calm. Again he paused for a moment in thought, but this time quickly recovered himself and pressed the green play button.

  He moved back and sat on the floor leaning against the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him. He still found it impossible to bend them more than about forty-five degrees. As the screen came alive, he forgot his aching body.

  The fragments of footage shot in Mary’s flat, restaurants, the street, and even in a taxi transfixed Si. There was one ridiculous scene where Mary dripped ice cream all over herself. And he laughed out loud at some of
his repartee with Jimmy in The Feathers, as seen through the unforgiving lens. That had been when Mary stood them up and they’d ended up getting hammered together. That had been a good night. The pieces began to slide gently back together, to make sense in a way they’d never done before. Si noticed that, almost magically, the ragged edges of the recent violence seemed to be smoothing out the familiar chaos, like a spatula stroking rough clay.

  When the video clock said that twenty-seven minutes had elapsed, the tape ended. Si didn’t move for a long time. He thought mainly about Jimmy, whose damaged eyes meant he could not have the solace of watching images from the past; tragically, it was now clear he would never again play top flight football. What would become of his friend? Si wondered. Soon after the bomb, Jimmy had been moved to a specialist eye clinic outside London; as a result, they had not met since the fifteenth of September. The few phone conversations they had attempted had spluttered to a halt after a short time as each of them stumbled into unmapped emotional marshes—for the time being, their friendship seemed inadequate, unable to offer a safe path through the suffering.

  Someone went past in the street outside ringing a bicycle bell. A beam of sunshine moved slightly and lit up Si’s immobile face. As the light scorched his petrified cheek, he allowed the tears to overspill his tired eyes.

  The phone began to ring. The sunbeam moved further into the room and spread across Si’s whole body, surrounding him with a warm halo of soft light. The phone rang again and again before Si registered the noise. Returning from within, he raised his head like the Phoenix, and slowly the world came back into focus. He pushed back his shoulders, shook his head as if waking from a deep sleep, and the anguish on his face subsided; it was replaced by a weary, but gentle and peaceful expression.

  The phone was still ringing and now Si leaned forward to pick it up. He knew who it would be. The faintest trace of a smile showed at the corner of his shining eyes.