An Unlikely Hero

by P. F. Ford

  ‘Young lady? Ha! I should be so lucky. There wasn’t anyone with me. I was on my own. I’m nearly always on my own.’

  Like a bloodhound on the trail, the young policeman seemed to think I was hiding something. ‘Are you sure about that, sir? Are you sure you weren’t accompanied by a young lady with an Eastern European accent? Can anyone corroborate your story that you were on your own?’

  ‘Just a minute.’ I was getting annoyed now. ‘I’m not the one who committed a bloody crime here. I was on my own. The only people who can corroborate my story are the arseholes who bashed my head in. When you catch them you can ask them.’

  The young police officer looked pleased with himself. ‘So there was more than one, then.’

  ‘You tell me. According to the nurse it looks like I had a meeting with several baseball bats. That would indicate more than one person, right? Of course, it could have been my misfortune to meet some sort of homicidal juggler.’

  The curtains parted and, like magic, the nurse reappeared and glared at the police officer. ‘Two minutes, I said. Don’t upset him, I said. He has a head injury, Constable. I think perhaps you’d better leave now.’

  ‘But, but, I haven’t finished yet,’ he stammered.

  ‘Oh yes you have. Go on, out!’ ordered the nurse.

  The chastened officer gathered his things together. ‘We’ll talk again, sir,’ he said, as he passed through the curtains.

  ‘Yes, great,’ I said. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  The nurse fussed around me again. ‘You don’t have to talk to them while you’re in here,’ she said. ‘Especially if they’re just going to upset you.’

  ‘Oh, he’s just doing his job. But I do hate being called a liar. I’m supposed to be the victim here.’

  ‘Just settle down and try to sleep,’ she said, soothingly.

  ‘What’s your name, nurse?’

  ‘Gail.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Gail. I’m glad you’re on my side. I certainly feel safe in here.’

  I was asleep before she had a chance to reply.

  Chapter Three

  It was approaching midday on Saturday. Having been overcome by nausea when I had tried to get out of bed earlier, I was still under observation in A&E. A shortage of beds meant I had to stay where I was until they said I could go home, but at least now I was sitting up.

  Gail had gone off duty to be replaced by a younger nurse called Gillian. A harassed-looking young doctor had just finished examining me.

  ‘When can I go home, doc?’

  ‘If it wasn’t for the nausea earlier I’d send you home now,’ he said. ‘Is there anyone at home who can keep an eye on you?’

  ‘No. I live on my own, but I could phone someone if you let me have my phone.’

  ‘Give us the number and we’ll make the call,’ said the doctor.

  ‘I still need the phone to find the number.’

  ‘I’ll ask Gillian to bring your phone over in a moment,’ he replied. ‘As long as you can promise me you’ll have someone with you for the rest of the day, you can go home.’

  Five minutes later, Gillian came over with the phone. ‘You show me who you want me to call,’ she said.

  I fumbled through the contacts until I found the one I wanted. ‘Here. This guy, Dave. He’ll come and pick me up, no problem.’

  ‘Ok. I’ll go and make the call,’ said Gillian.

  A few minutes later she was back. ‘He said to give him an hour and then you’ll be on way home. Must go now, very busy.’ She gave me a dazzling smile and skipped away.

  With nothing better to do, I decided I might as well get my head down and catch up with some sleep. And I began to dream. I was in the pub; there was a girl there reading a book. Then there was this great big giant of a guy. And the girl told him to leave her alone. She had an accent. And then there was nearly a fight. And, as the big guy left, he had threatened me.

  So, was that it? Had the big guy beaten the crap out of me? But how did I get here? And who had made the phone call? The girl had the right accent but she had run away, so how could she have made the phone call?

  Once again, I became aware someone had sat down next to me. Well if it’s that miserable bloody policeman again he could piss off. Very carefully, I eased open my good eye. Wow! Things were looking up! This was no policeman.

  She sat with her head bowed, either deep in prayer or deep in thought, I couldn’t tell. Although I couldn’t see her face, I remembered she was very pretty. I coughed quietly.

  She looked up with a start and there we sat, staring at each other: she with her two rather beautiful brown eyes, and me with my one, rather bruised and battered, eye.

  Finally, she spoke. ‘You are good, yes?’

  ‘I’m not sure good is quite the word I’d use, but the doctor says I’ll survive, so I suppose yes, I’m good, thank you. Your mate did a good job.’

  ‘My mate? Sorry, I not understand?’

  ‘That big animal who tried to grab you in the pub. He said I’d regret it-’

  ‘Was not Gregov did this,’ she interrupted. ‘If Gregov get you, he cut you. Maybe even kill you. But this? This not his style.’

  It seemed a weird idea to think a thug would have a particular style, but I thought I understood what she was getting at and that definitely made me stop and think. I mean if it wasn’t the guy who had actually threatened me, then who could have done it? And did this mean I could expect another good hiding anytime soon?

  ‘Oh. That’s not very reassuring,’ I said uneasily. ‘But I don’t recall anyone else threatening me recently. So what are you saying? It was a coincidence I got the crap beaten out of me?’

  ‘You think Gregov need help beat you? You brave man, but you are fool if you think Gregov need help beat shit out you. I don’t think, do you? Three men beating crap from you. It word you said – coincidence.’

  She made it clear there was no point in arguing. Suddenly the penny dropped.

  ‘Hang on. How do you know it was three men? Were you watching?’

  ‘You nice man.’ she said. ‘No one else give me chance escape. I watch outside pub. I want make sure you home safe, so I wait, I watch. If Gregov come, I warn. But he not come. He not there. Other men wait for you in dark. I not see them until too late. But I see run off. I know Gregov not there, and these men nothing do with him.’

  ‘So who were they? Did you get a good look?’

  ‘I worry for you. So come help you. You were, how you say, the crap beat out, so I go through pockets, find phone, call help. I wait, I hear siren, then I go.’

  ‘So it was you who made the phone call. Why didn’t you wait?’

  ‘And answer awkward police question? You must be make joke, yes?’

  ‘Why? What are you hiding from?’

  For a moment I thought she was going to tell me, but she just shook her head.

  ‘Believe me, much better not know. Better not involved.’

  ‘Involved in what? I don’t even know your name so you can hardly say I’m involved.’

  ‘Is better not know name.’

  She bowed her head again and I found myself staring at the top of her head again. Not sure what to say, I decided to change tack.

  ‘You’re right. It’s none of my business. But I still owe you a big thank-you for calling that ambulance. I suppose it could have been much worse.’

  She continued to look down at the floor and there was an awkward silence.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘If you’re in some sort of trouble I’d like to help you.’

  More silence.

  Then the unmistakable sound of high heels could be heard click-clacking along the corridor outside, getting louder. I froze. I knew that walk. Or was it my imagination? It couldn’t be, could it? Oh please, no. Don’t let it be her. How could she know where I was?

  As I sat there frozen in my own private nightmare, the girl seemed to come to a decision. She reached out and gently took my hand. ‘I think better I go,’
she said. ‘You are good man. Thank you.’

  The click, clack, click, clack stopped. Right outside my cubicle. Oh, bollocks!

  Chapter Four

  The curtain parted and a head appeared. My heart sank. As I expected from the click-clacking, it was my ex-wife Gloria. There was a brief freeze-frame moment, me with my mouth open, the girl holding my hand. I remember wondering why I felt guilty.

  The newly-arrived Gloria took in the scene and I could see from her face that she had immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  ‘Oh. Interrupting something, am I?’

  Now, it would be fair to say Gloria is not my favourite person. As ex-wives go, she’s one of the more bitter and twisted type. We were married for twenty years but eventually her philandering became too much for me. But, of course, in her eyes, like so many other people caught with their knickers down, it wasn’t her fault. In Gloria’s world, everything was my fault.

  Although her looks had faded a bit, even in her mid-forties Gloria could still look good when she made the effort and, as always, she was smartly dressed. Today it was designer jeans and jacket, low-cut blouse displaying acres of cleavage, all finished off with a pair of bright red shoes with four-inch killer heels, which explained the click-clacking.

  There’s a certain type of man who would say she was sexy. I would describe her as ‘all tits and no knickers’ but to be fair, I am a little biased. Whichever side of that particular fence you were on, you would have to agree she was dressed to kill, and it looked as though she felt she had just found a victim judging from the way she was looking down her nose at the younger girl’s tired face, rumpled jeans, and sweater.

  ‘Hello, Gloria’, I said, wearily. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh nice greeting.’ She sneered as she spoke. ‘Whatever happened to hello, Gloria, how are you? It’s good to see you. So nice of you to drive all the way here to pick me up and take me home.’

  When she adopted that tone, her voice reminded me of fingernails being scraped across an old blackboard.

  To be honest, she did have a point about the greeting, but quite frankly I was just being honest. I didn’t think it was good to see her. I had left Gloria more than two years ago, and she was the last person I wanted to see right now, no matter how much I needed help.

  Anyway, I was more concerned with how she had known I was here. And what did she mean ‘pick me up and take me home’? That wasn’t what I had arranged.

  ‘Well? Who’s your friend, Alfie?’ she said, nodding at our hands. ‘Or perhaps you’re a bit more than friends? Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

  She smiled at me and then at the girl. At least, it could have been a smile. Or it could possibly have been a grimace. With Gloria I often found it difficult to tell. It was the sort of expression a crocodile might offer its victim just before dinner. A random thought popped into my head, and I wondered if maybe she had wind.

  Her gaze had the desired effect, making the younger girl shift uncomfortably. With a start, she let go of my hand as if it was a hot coal.

  Whoops. This was awkward. I didn’t know her name.

  ‘Err, this is, err...’

  ‘Jelena. My name Jelena,’ she said, coming to my rescue. She stood up to face Gloria, making it quite clear she wasn’t going to be intimidated.

  ‘Oh nice,’ said Gloria, pausing just long enough to load up with poison. ‘If you like that sort of thing.’ She allowed a second or two for the barb to strike. ‘My name’s Gloria. I’m Alfie’s wife’.

  ‘Ex-wife,’ I snapped. ‘You’re my ex-wife.’

  ‘Mmm,’ sniffed Gloria, turning to the girl. ‘He tells all his girlfriends that.’

  She was doing her best to wind me up, but I wasn’t going to bite.

  ‘That’s because you are my ex. And Jelena is not my girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh blimey,’ said Gloria, giving the girl another withering appraisal. ‘You’re not paying for it now, are you? I can come back later if I’m interrupting…’

  I had thought that maybe this was going over Jelena’s head, but I guess the language of the cat fight was universal. Whatever, she wasn’t going to be phased by someone like Gloria.

  ‘I just leave,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t have to go,’ I pleaded, as she got to her feet. ‘Don’t take any notice of her.’

  ‘No. I think better I go.’ She gave Gloria a look of utter disdain before she added a parting shot. ‘If you really marry this person, I sorry for you. Now must go.’

  She brushed past a now-bristling Gloria and disappeared through the curtain. Much as I was annoyed with Gloria, I couldn’t help but smile at the way Jelena had dealt with her. Gloria didn’t seem to see the funny side though.

  ‘Well!’ she snapped, looking daggers at the departing girl’s back. ‘Cheeky little tart! What does she mean she feels sorry for you?’

  ‘Trust me, you just wouldn’t understand, love...’

  Surprisingly, Gloria ignored the opportunity to make the situation worse and instead turned back to me. She had this really annoying habit of trying to organise my life and tell me what to do. Despite our separation, I could see nothing had changed on that front.

  ‘Well, are you ready to go? I was told you’d be ready and waiting. I haven’t got all day you know.’

  ‘You’re here to take me home? How did that happen? I didn’t ask anyone to call you.’

  ‘I got a call from the hospital here. Some nurse I think. Said you needed picking up, and as I’m your wife she thought I should be the person to do it.’

  ‘But you’re not my wife! You’re the last person I would call.’

  ‘That’s what you say,’ said Gloria, smiling victoriously. ‘But, technically, I think you’ll find we’re still married. And you didn’t do the calling, did you?’

  I wasn’t happy about this at all, but I didn’t want to make a big scene. All I really wanted to do was go home, but Gloria didn’t know exactly where I was living, and I had no intention of letting her find out if I could help it. I didn’t want her turning up, making my life a misery, every time she felt like it.

  Then again, they wouldn’t let me leave the hospital if they thought I was going to be on my own. So I had to figure out how I was going to do this.

  ‘Well come on then,’ she nagged. ‘Let’s get you dressed and get you out of here. Where are your clothes?’

  ‘Alright, alright,’ I said.

  And just then, like a gift from heaven, a plan popped into my head. I didn’t like to deceive Gloria, and I knew she’d make my life hell when she caught up with me, but I just couldn’t face dealing with her for the rest of the day...

  It was raining as we reached the back entrance to the hospital where the car park was.

  ‘I’m parked over the back there.’ Gloria pointed towards the distant, far end of the car park. ‘Can you walk, or do you want to wait here for me?’

  I had planned on sending her back in on a fool’s errand, but this was even better.

  ‘I can’t walk very quickly,’ I said. ‘Would you mind if I wait here in the dry?’

  ‘Oh.’ Gloria sighed. ‘I suppose so.’

  Head down against the rain, she click-clacked her way across the car park. Unable to run in the high heels, she would be soaked by the time she got to her car.

  I let her get a few yards away, then turned and made my way back into the hospital. The bruises stopped me from moving fast, and I had to be careful, but I was a man on a mission.

  It took a few minutes, but eventually I reached the front entrance of the hospital. I was in luck. There was a small taxi rank just a few yards from the entrance, with an empty taxi obligingly ready to take me home. I hobbled across to it, opened the back door, and gingerly slipped inside.

  ‘Where to, mate?’ said the driver over his shoulder.

  I gave him the address, and off we went. As we drove away, I saw a parking warden strolling towards the far end of the car park.

&n
bsp; Chapter Five

  My mobile phone had been buzzing like an angry wasp every couple of minutes. It was Gloria. I understood why she was annoyed, but how many angry text messages could one person send? I wondered if maybe I should contact the Guinness Book of Records. I certainly wasn’t going to speak to her again until she had calmed down.

  I had made the mistake of answering her first call. Wow, did she go off on one. But listening to her ranting had proved I was right – what she was most annoyed about was not being able to find out where my flat was.

  Admittedly, wasting her time ranked pretty high on her agenda too. Oh, and the fact she had got a parking ticket for leaving her car in front of the hospital while she went in to shout at the staff about my disappearan1ce. It’s probably best I don’t tell you what words she used to describe the poor old parking guy. And, of course, she was only too happy to tell me it was all my fault, but, for once she was right – on this occasion it was my fault.

  It would be fair to say her opinion of me was none too high right now. So, nothing new there then. I’ll admit I did feel a bit guilty, but it was her own fault. If she found out where I lived, she’d be all over me like a rash.

  In an attempt to appease her, I did offer to pay the parking fine, and I made a mental note to send some flowers to say sorry, although I had reservations about doing that. The last time I sent flowers, she assumed it meant I wanted to get back together with her, and that was definitely not on my agenda.

  I deleted the latest tranche of text messages and decided to switch the mobile off – I would get no peace otherwise.

  I shuffled across to the window. Outside, the light was beginning to fade. There was a definite chill in the air outside, but it was warm and cosy in my flat. Being right handed and having my right arm in a sling, I had to do everything with my left hand, which was proving to be a bit of a challenge.