12
A dry start, with keen east or southeasterly winds, particularly on summits
MRS GRIERSON IS nice and clean except for iodine discoloration. The wound is stitched, taped, neat and tidy. I cover her. Her belly is full, though her baby is at the hospital in his father’s arms. I rinse her hair. Lucky to have a natural shine. I pat her face dry. I don’t want drips running down. They do of course. They become Mrs Grierson’s tears. I am careful with my stitching. It is wrong to close a mother’s mouth before she has spoken her baby’s name. I stop, I step back. I try to put some distance between but the gap won’t widen. Sorry, I say. My voice dings off the metal dish. It was better before when I said nothing. Shut up, Lee. I plug in the hairdryer. I don’t switch it on. I sit down. I touch her hand. I hope she saw him. You are not supposed to touch clients unnecessarily. Or think about the circumstances of their death. You are not supposed to mull over, think on, or be maudlin. I touch her fingers. You are not supposed to hold their hand. It’s on the list of things considered inappropriate, a step too far. Lee, you have gone too far. Mrs Grierson doesn’t seem to mind. Her fingers start to warm under mine. Not to worry, Mrs Grierson, take your time. I am here.
Miss Langley, I presume?
I prefer to greet people my own age with a joke, puts us on a par. Miss Langley’s tray flies out on her runners just as Derek steps in.
Evening all.
The sky is pink over the dual carriageway, turned the pine trees black on the west side; they look like a crowd of mourners. One of them is the total spit of Howard leading on with his silver-topped cane. You can’t count on a sunset around here. As I look my phone tings.
Hey u. crazy here 2! L8ers! L.
Reason to be cheerful. Result. I check for hidden meaning. I read it again. Then I read it again. If it was a normal Tuesday I’d meet Raven at The Lion, but he’s on Lates this week. Just as well as it happens.
* * *
I put the tea on, beefburgers: a treat. I wait for Ned to come down. He likes burgers. Twelve buns, 48p. Bargain. I’ll freeze the rest. I take Lester his as usual. It’s only as I’m putting it down I notice. I look at him and of course straight away I know. The TV is blaring. Same old, but.
I look at his head, lolled, like one of Ned’s pigeons. Would you like to see inside your house?
Only then do I notice his eyes. Then the smell.
Les?
I switch off the TV.
I can’t think what to do next. Funny. This is my daily bread. If I was going to expect the unexpected it would not be death. Death is my Monday to Friday. Don’t bring your work home with you, that’s what they say. Too late. I hold my head in my hands.
Take your time, I tell myself. Sit yourself down. I’m ready when you are.