Big Maw Gruff dabbed the tears from her eyes as she gazed down at Extolziby. Ignoring the rule that he was allowed only two visitors at a time, those family members who weren’t in prison or police custody or drying out in rehab had crowded into the small intensive-care unit. They formed a semi-circle around her. Big Maw Gruff looked across at Extolziby’s eight-year-old cousin Diamanté who was busy punching her right fist into the palm of her left hand.
‘See, when Ah get haud of the yins that did this tae oor, Extol,’ squeaked Diamanté, ‘they’re gonnae be the ones sucking their mince and tatties through a straw, ken.’
Ma Gruff reached over and squeezed Diamanté’s shoulder. ‘All in good time, doll. All in good time,’ she said, catching sight of another two of Extolziby’s cousins, Beckham and Messi Gruff. Beckham was trying to pull the plug of one of the life-support machines out from the wall, while Messi was taking pictures of the equipment with his phone. She watched as he swiped the picture onto an eBay app, and turned to someone else in the crowd. ‘Anyone ken whit a buy-it-now price fur a heart monitor is? Medical grade, like.’
‘Here, youse,’ said Big Maw Gruff. ‘Leave that plugged in. He’s no even deid yet.’
Beckham and Messi rolled their eyes but stopped what they were doing. Tadjikstan, Extolziby’s older brother, a muscular young man who sported matching Hate/Hate knuckle tattoos, shot them a look. ‘Whit Maw said. Anyway, Ah’ve goat dibsies on aw this gear.’
They didn’t answer. Few people argued with Tadji the Radgie. At the same time, Tadji did have a softer side, which he was about to demonstrate. ‘Okay, okay, tell ye whit. I’ll cut youse two in if you help me get the gear doon the stairs later.’
Beckham and Messi brightened. Beckham posed next to the equipment while Messi went on taking pictures.
‘Dae ye think he’ll make it, Big Maw?’
The question came from another of Extolziby’s older brothers, a lanky teenager with big ears who had been christened Velcrose. Velcrose was so named because when he was born he had clung on to their mum, Pocahontas, for dear life. It was a habit that had stayed with him. Once he attached himself to someone, there was no shaking him.
A frazzled nurse popped her head round the door. ‘Mrs Gruff, there’s someone here to see you. He says he’d like a word in private.’
Mrs Gruff patted Extolziby’s limp hand. ‘You stay there,’ she said. She turned back to the rest of the family. ‘That’ll be Archie.’
Archie Green was the family lawyer and, as such, a very busy man. He probably spent more time with various members of the Gruff family than he did with his own. Usually he was defending them, but this, from his perspective, was a much happier occasion. As soon as he had heard about the accident, he had rushed to be at the bedside. Where there was damage, there was money.
He was waiting outside in the corridor. Archie was in his fifties, bald with a ginger beard speckled with dashes of grey. He looked like a man who had put his head on upside down. He wore a three-piece suit and brown brogues. Despite his Scottish first name, he was in fact from Yorkshire, of which he delighted in reminding anyone who would listen. He started most sentences with ‘As a proud Yorkshireman,’ or ‘In Yorkshire we say what we mean and we mean what we say.’
‘Mrs Gruff,’ he said, throwing his arms around Big Maw. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
She pulled away from his sweaty embrace. ‘He’s no deid yet, thank the Lord.’
Archie Green took out a notepad, opened it, licked the end of a stubby bookmaker’s pencil and put a line through the figure he had been going to sue for, had Extolziby been dead. ‘And, as we say in Yorkshire, thank Heaven for small mercies. What a relief.’
He wasn’t relieved at all. Not that he wished the lad dead. Not at all. He rather liked him. But Extolziby, alone among the Gruff family, had a habit of telling the truth. This was terrible in a court of law when large sums of money were at stake.
‘He’s still in a coma, isn’t he?’ he asked hopefully.
Big Maw Gruff nodded. She was starting to tear up again.
It was just then, as Archie was trying to figure out his next legal move, that his phone rang. ‘Excuse me for one moment,’ he said, stepping into a side room.
Big Maw Gruff watched as Archie’s eyebrows shot almost to the top of his large forehead. He conducted his conversation in a whisper, not once mentioning Yorkshire, which immediately made her suspicious. At regular intervals he would lick the end of his stubby pencil and jot something in his notepad.
When the call was finished, he wandered back into the corridor. ‘Mrs Gruff, I have just had the most curious call. I think perhaps you might want to gather the rest of the family so that I can speak to all of you together. Meanwhile I shall arrange it so that you can speak to Pocahontas before you make a decision.’
‘A decision about what?’ Big Maw Gruff said.
Happy to get the Gruff family out of the intensive-care unit, one of the nurses found them a quiet room off the ward, where Archie Green began to tell them about the mysterious phone call he had received only moments before. When he had finished, he clasped his hands together, like a shiny-faced host on a game show, and said, ‘As a proud Yorkshireman, I’d recommend you take their offer.’ Then he left the Gruff family to decide Extolziby’s fate.
Apart from Diamanté, who was still focused on avenging her cousin’s injuries, most of the younger members of the family were for taking the offer. Some of the older members were more reluctant especially after a phone conversation with Extolziby’s mum, Pocahontas.
In the end the decision rested, as it always did, with Big Maw. She swiped away more tears from her eyes. It was a big step. The Gruff family had been guilty of many things but they had always stuck together, through good times and bad. Even their harshest critics would tell you that, while they had broken almost every law in the land, they were loyal to each other.
Big Maw cleared her throat. ‘Forget the cha-ching cha-ching for the noo. This is about what’s best for Extolziby. His future. And let’s be honest, ken. He’s never stolen anything. He doesnae use bad language. He doesnae take drugs. He doesnae sniff glue. He doesnae even drink.’ At this there was a mournful shaking of heads. Drinking was seen as one of the other things the Gruffs had a talent for. ‘He’s no even much of a fighter.’
Diamanté, who was fast becoming the family expert on violence, nodded solemnly at this.
‘No to put too fine a point oan it,’ Ma Gruff went on, ‘his heart’s in the right place, and we love the wee numpty, but he’s never really fitted in with us. In fact, since day wan, he’s been a bit of a disappointment. Mibbe we’d be doing him a favour letting this mob doon south take care of him like they’ve offered.’
And that was it. One by one they filtered out of the room, wandered back along the corridor to Extolziby’s room, and said their goodbyes.