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‘HELL’S TEETH,’ SAID Michelle, as a plethora of multi-coloured columns and boxes tumbled onto the screen. She clicked between Victor Morgan’s accompanying instructions and his computer spreadsheet, trying to work out what it all meant. ‘As if I haven’t already got enough work to bloody-well do.’
An image of his shoes clip-clopped across her mind. They’d turned into winkle-pickers, and the sharp point of her scissors was vertically tethered into the toe of one of them, as bright red blood trickled down the shiny black leather.
Bea phoned through to let her know that the first patient had arrived, but Michelle couldn’t start the clinic because she had to fathom out how to fill in the spreadsheet. It was already practically impossible to fit everything into the appointment slots, without having to pause to record every time she so much as blinked.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she chuntered to herself. ‘Greet patient – tap. Explain purpose of appointment – tap. Take medical history – tap. Discuss the condition – tappity bloody tap.’
The telephone rang again. Phil.
‘Michelle,’ he said, sounding unusually flustered. ‘I was contemplating how I might incorporate Victor Morgan’s working document into the current appointment time-slots. However, I wonder if it might be wiser if we continue to take the full forty-five minutes allocated for each patient, and then allow clinic to run late as the extra work dictates. Otherwise, it might be surmised that our service can function within a tighter window of time –’ A loud rapping sounded down the line. ‘Speak to you later, my patient has arrived.’
By the time Michelle had finished her clinic, lunchtime was nearly over. She reached into her bag for her blood pressure-raising cheese and onion crisps and her mobile. There was no phone. She couldn’t check for messages from Dan. Maybe it fell out in the car, she thought, snatching the keys and her work phone. She dashed out of the office and fast-walked up the corridor to the multi-storey. Running wasn’t allowed – unless it was to get to a cardiac arrest – but most nurses could do a walking, almost-run.
She shot outside and skidded on a deflated balloon. Shaking it off her shoe, she continued her dash. The sight of an elderly man hobbling towards the entrance pricked her conscience – a fall could finish him off, she thought, turning back. She stooped down to grab the balloon, complete with a tangle of pink ribbons and a bow with a huge cardboard Peppa Pig face stapled to the middle, then carried on hurtling. Just as she was about to dump it all into the bin outside the multi-storey, she noticed the sun glinting off the polished paintwork of Victor Morgan’s car in the outside car park – the one reserved for very senior members of staff. Dick head.
The next thing she knew, Michelle was sitting on her hunkers next to Victor Morgan’s front passenger wheel, holding Peppa Pig. She could feel the blood bounding through her arteries, uncomfortably aware that she was probably committing a crime, but unable to stop herself. Her face hot and clammy, she remained crouched down while she snipped the bow and a length of ribbon with her scissors – and then watched in horror as her own hands tied it to the passenger side wing mirror, the cerise ribbon beautifully showcased against the black paintwork, with a dirty-faced Peppa Pig smiling back at her. Still in a half-crouch, she scuttled off towards the stairs to her own car.
Sitting in the driving seat with her mobile – rescued from the footwell – she flicked through messages without seeing them. She could just about make out that none were from Dan from the jumbled words. What have I done? How could I have been so childish and irresponsible? I’m going to get the sack. Struggling back down the stairs on shaky legs, she headed off to retrieve Peppa.
To her dismay, people had sprung up everywhere. A band of panic gripped her chest. Her work phone rang. Main Outpatients wanted to know why she wasn’t in her afternoon clinic.
She glanced over her shoulder towards the scene of her misdemeanour, adrenaline pinballing around her insides. Get a grip. At least no one had seen what she’d done. There was no physical damage. Victor Morgan probably wouldn’t notice it from the driver’s seat, it would blow off and he’d be none the wiser. Best try to forget about it. Anyway, she had no option but to leave it and return to work.
Having been the type of child who’d never once had so much as a detention for dropping litter, she was baffled by her own bad behaviour. After years of exemplary conduct, it was as if she was determined to ruin her reputation both at work and at home. She hurried down to clinic vowing to never again do anything so ridiculous.
***
MICHELLE AND SARA SAT at the back of the small, dark room, cross-legged and giggling. They watched a stickman on the television bouncing up and down on a trampoline. A group gasp went up from the children in the front row, as he jumped too near the edge, snapped in two, and his head fell off.
‘Yes, that’s what can happen if you disrespect the rules of safe jumping,’ said one of the two young instructors, standing like guards at either side of the screen. They were dressed in navy tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts with the club name, Tyne View Trampies, in red across the front. The male instructor paused the demonstration to zoom in on the stickman’s agonised expression, before looking solemnly at each member of the audience in turn.
‘And anyone not paying attention,’ the girl instructor said, focusing directly on Michelle and Sara, ‘will stay behind to watch the safety video again.’
‘That was your fault,’ hissed Sara.
Michelle didn’t understand why they’d been made to watch the video in the first place. They were only there to support Judy, who was representing her team in a friendly competition against the Bowbury Bouncers.
Once they’d been unleashed into the sports hall, it was tricky to spot Judy. The place was full of people dressed in navy or purple and huddled in groups around trampolines.
‘Did you speak to my dad yet?’ Sara asked, as they searched for Judy.
‘Not yet, I haven’t had time.’
Sara sighed. ‘I don’t want him here. I’m an adult now, why can’t he accept I have a right to my own opinion? Mam, please make him stay away.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with your age. He’s only capable of thinking about his own needs. If I speak to him, he’ll accuse me of trying to keep you apart again.’
Fermín seemed incapable of understanding that Sara wanted little, if anything at all, to do with him. While he’d refused to accept any responsibility for providing materially or emotionally for Sara during her childhood, he insisted she shoulder a daughterly duty towards him. He cared about no one but himself.
She recalled the parking fines he’d built up during the brief time they’d lived in Pamplona. Where he’d been, she’d had no clue. She only found out about the fines when she answered the door to an armed traffic policeman. As he showed her a wad of tickets and demanded payment, she’d tightened her arms around Sara and tried not to look at the pistol on his hip. With no money of her own, she’d feared he might shoot them. To her relief, he’d issued a final warning and left. Fermín had returned home to find her shaking and cuddling Sara. He’d sneered and called her a coward. Even after twenty years, memories of life with Fermín still made Michelle want to slap him.
‘I wonder what he’s after.’
‘Look, over there,’ Sara said, pointing to a navy group at the opposite side of the hall. Gemma, Judy’s daughter and the only one not in the team strip, was jumping up and down and waving them over.
Fermín would have to wait for the time being.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Michelle.
‘God, I’m nervous now,’ replied Judy, mid-stretch.
‘Careful your head doesn’t fall off, mind,’ laughed Sara.
‘Thanks for coming. We’re all going over to the Fox and Hounds afterwards.’
‘Come on,’ said Gemma. ‘Let’s have a go on the practice ones, while Mam finishes warming up.’ She led the way to a sectioned-off area of smaller trampolines.
‘I’ll watch the bags,’ said Michelle, keen to avoid the jumping part.
Sara and Gemma tied up their hair, kicked off their shoes and began to bounce with abandon, shrieking and giggling, like when they were in primary school.
Michelle and Judy had hit it off straight away when they’d met years previously at the school gates. Their girls had remained good friends, too, though they didn’t see each other so much since going off to university – Sara to study physiotherapy at Northumbria, and Gemma business studies at Sunderland.
‘Howay, Michelle,’ shouted Gemma. ‘Get on that one over there.’
The girls made it look easy with their flips, swivels and drops.
‘Oh, go on then,’ said Michelle. ‘I jumped for my school team. I used to be pretty good.’ She fished out a jaw clip from her bag and pinned back her hair – it wouldn’t do to get it in her eyes while jumping, that could be dangerous. After a few small bounces to reach the middle, she started to use her arms and legs to get the momentum going. It was all coming back to her.
‘Weee, this is brilliant,’ she squealed, her arms going around like windmills, legs perfectly straight and toes in gymnast points.
‘Go on there, Mam,’ shouted Sara on her way up from a front drop.
‘Great, isn’t it?’ said Gemma, mid-pike.
Michelle, encouraged by the atmosphere and the prowess of the girls, decided to step it up. She could show these young ones a thing or two. With an air of stickman cockiness, she jumped extra high and descended straight into a seat drop.
‘Wa-haa-oa-oooow!’ she screamed, as pain seared across the middle of her back.
Sara and Gemma came to prompt halts with well executed knee bend manoeuvres, as demonstrated in the safety video. Michelle’s trampoline continued to bounce, with her sprawled in the middle in the shape of a squiggly, albeit intact, stickman.
‘Oh, my God. Mother, what the hell have you done?’ Sara bounce-ran onto Michelle’s trampoline. ‘Mam, say something.’
Michelle winced as the pain increased with each bounce.
‘Are you okay over there?’ asked an instructor.
‘Uh-huh,’ Michelle replied, without moving her head and opening only her right eye. The back pain had been so severe, she’d felt nothing when her left eye had landed on the hair clip. Until now. Oh God, my eyeball must have burst. She squinted up at the instructor. It was the girl who’d told them off – she was smirking.
Sara and Gemma hauled her off the trampoline and over to the spectator area, where they propped her up on a metal seat against a table.
‘What happened?’ asked Gemma. ‘Oh my, your eye looks a bit swollen.’
‘Jarred... back...’ whispered Michelle between breaths.
Gemma fished her purse from her bag and scampered off.
Sara threw her hands up. ‘Why couldn’t you bloody-well bounce gently like the other old people?’
‘Like... hit ... cricket bat.’
Judy jogged over, all pumped up after a team pep-talk. ‘Come on, you lot, I thought you were going to have a bit of a bounce? You all right, Michelle?’ she asked, eyeing her cautiously.
‘Think so.’ She tried to stretch her back and flinched.
Gemma placed a cup of tea in front of her. ‘There’s sugar in it. For the shock. Come on Sara, let’s have a wander over to the Fox and Hounds.’
‘Thanks,’ Michelle said, breathing a little easier.
‘Mam, sit there and don’t move. But phone me if you get any worse.’
‘Oh, that’s nice, just do off,’ said Judy.
Gemma waved over her shoulder as she walked off. ‘We’ll be back in twenty minutes.’
Michelle eased herself up to rummage in her bag.
‘Thanks again for coming tonight.’ Judy shuffled awkwardly in her seat. ‘I am sorry. You know, for telling Sara about Dan.’
‘Let’s forget about it.’ She washed down a couple of painkillers with the tea.
‘I thought Sara and I could gently steer you away from getting hurt. I didn’t expect it to blow up like it did.’
In truth, Michelle felt guilty. She hadn’t told Judy or Sara that she’d changed her mind about getting together with him in the future. ‘But,’ she continued, tentatively, ‘even if something did end up happening between Dan and me, at some point, that would be no one else’s business.’
‘Okay. I get it.’
A tall gangly man in Tyne View club colours bounded over to the table. He smiled broadly at Michelle, revealing chipped front teeth. The man turned a chair around, straddled it and plonked himself down.
‘Hiya, Malcolm,’ said Judy. ‘This is my friend Michelle.’ Judy arched a brow and grinned at Michelle.
He extended a bony hand. ‘Well, hello there. How do you do?’
‘Hi.’ Michelle started to shake his hand then recoiled when Malcolm jumped to his feet and blew a whistle.
‘Oy, you two... Pack it in,’ he hollered at two young lads, karate kicking each other nearby. ‘My twins,’ he laughed. ‘Ten years old and a right handful.’
It turned out Malcolm was a P.E. teacher. That was as much information as Michelle could ascertain before Judy sloped off, briefly turning to give her the thumbs up behind Malcolm’s back.
‘So...’ Malcolm paused to wink at her, ‘Judy tells me you’re single. I can’t believe you haven’t been snapped up by now.’ He drummed his hands on the table and puffed out his chest.
‘I’m single by choice.’ What a prat. She noticed his forearms, sinewy and covered in dark hairs. Not like Dan’s muscular, safe arms.
‘You can’t be too fussy, you know. Everyone has a shelf life.’ He jumped up, this time knocking over the chair. The trill of the whistle set Michelle’s nerves on end.
‘Ooh, do you have to blow that thing? It hurts my ears.’ She rubbed her back and squirmed in her seat. ‘I had an accid–’
‘Oy! I. Said. Pack. It. In.’
‘Oh, for the love of God.’ Michelle cradled her head in her hands.
This time last week, she and Dan had been having a cosy chat as they ate toast and drank tea. She longed to get back home, curl up on the sofa with a hot water bottle to ease her back, and replay his visit in her mind’s eye. She checked her mobile. Still nothing but missed cold calls since that morning.
‘Michelle, could you watch the lads while I jump?’
She recoiled against the chair again, sending pain shooting through her back. ‘No, sorry, I can’t. I’m leaving as soon as Judy has jumped.’
‘Aw, that’s a shame. You could’ve got to know them.’
‘What, why?’
‘Look, I’d better shoot off and find someone else to keep an eye.’ Malcolm un-straddled the chair and lolloped off, turning back mid-lollop to wave. ‘Give me a ring,’ he boomed. ‘I might consider taking you out sometime. Get my number from Judy.’
Heads shot around, as nosey parkers checked out the pathetic woman desperate for a date with Malcolm. Someone sniggered. How much humiliation did she have to endure in a single night? She wondered why Malcolm assumed she’d want to get to know his awful offspring. Her father hadn’t wanted to know his own children, never mind expect anyone else to. It occurred to her that she’d grown up with such low self-esteem, she’d never dared initiate a conversation with him about her childhood, or his dismissive behaviour towards her. She’d been too busy feeling embarrassed for being so disposable – as if it was her fault.
For the next half hour, she sat there alone, doing her best impression of a confident, modern woman, one who wouldn’t ever dream of asking for any man’s telephone number. She was still smiling and trying to make it look as if she was reading a highly interesting article on her mobile, when Sara and Gemma breezed back in.
‘Why are you grinning like a simpleton, Mam?’
Well that worked well.
The three of them watched in awe, as Judy jumped like a professional athlete, though Michelle mentally winced each time she executed a seat drop.
Afterwards, the two girls ran over to congratulate her, while Michelle hobbled after them.
Judy lapped up the well-deserved praise and compliments. ‘That was exhilarating,’ she said. ‘But I’m so glad it’s over. Are you coming to the Fox and Hounds later?’
Sara and Gemma took advantage of the mere suggestion to shoot straight back there to ‘wait’ for Judy. As Michelle was injured, no one made a fuss when she declined.
‘Before you leave...’ Judy said, with a flourish of excitement. ‘Tell me how it went with Malcolm?’
‘Oh yes, thanks for that...’
‘Aw, you didn’t fancy him?'
‘He’s got the teeth of someone who chews bricks. And that bloody whistle...’
‘Hmm... I’d hoped he’d hold off with the whistle until you knew him a bit better – he’s a decent bloke. He thinks you’re going to call him.’
‘Not happening.’
‘I have another idea. How about joining Mango Sun with me? It only has well-educated, professional men on its books.’
‘Internet dating? They’re all scammers or perverts.’
‘No, that’s not true. And Mango Sun is an exclusive one. We’d have to exaggerate how much we earn of course, there’s a minimum income requirement, to keep out the gold-diggers. Sonia at work met a footballer on there.’
‘Footballers have girls crawling all over them, why would he be on a dating site?’
Judy’s brow furrowed. ‘Maybe he was sick of glamour model types. Perhaps he was looking for an intelligent career woman.’
‘Hmmm... Anyway, you don’t need to. Malcolm’s single.’
Judy’s eyes widened.
Michelle giggled. ‘I thought not.’
‘Well, I think we should have a look at it.’
‘Besides, as I said earlier, if something were to develop with Dan...’
The smile disappeared from Judy’s face.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I said if...’
