Anywhere's Better Than Here (17 page)

There were only three tables occupied at the cafe. Two nurses silently drinking tea at the same table, an old man reading the paper and a guy sitting at the back wall under the enormous 70s tapestry that made everything else look tiny. He had his back to her but she realised immediately that it was Gerry. She decided to watch him for a while, see the lie of the land. She walked around the perimeter of the cafe and stood behind an abandoned health stand so that she could gain a better view of him. She picked out a leaflet on psoriasis and perused the needlessly graphic photos. Shuddering, she looked over at Gerry. He was leaning his head on his hand and was surrounded by the remains of what looked like a cooked breakfast and several cups of tea.

She sighed and put the leaflet back, hiding it behind a leaflet on vitamins. He didn't look at all happy. Laurie walked towards him hesitantly. Would he want to see her? His look of dejection encouraged her; surely he'd want to see a friend? As she came closer, she could see more of his face. His eyes were puffy and he was none too clean. What she'd really like to do with Gerry was get him bathed and shaved – see what he was really like under all that. Without the slightest attempt at hiding it, he took a hip flask out of his jacket pocket and took a drink. This looks like trouble, she thought.

He looked up at her suddenly; he must have felt her staring at him. For a second, it was as if he didn't recognise her, but Laurie watched realisation unfold across his face and stood waiting for a sign to proceed. He attempted a smile so she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He reached out and pulled her close, pushing his face against her. Laurie held on to his head and felt him breathing heavily, rapidly into her jumper. She waited while his breathing calmed and he gave her one final squeeze. She could feel the flask in his hand pressing into her back. She sat down next to him at the table.

‘‘Hi.'' She pushed the used crockery to the other side of the table. She nodded at the hip flask which he was still holding. ‘‘Is it that bad?''

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him again. It was an awkward position. Her head was at an uncomfortable angle and she had the distinct impression that Gerry might start to cry. No one was looking at them but Laurie wasn't greatly concerned about that. It was more that she suspected Gerry had been stopping himself from crying for a long time so might keep going and Laurie wouldn't have the slightest idea of what to do with him.

She disentangled herself.

‘‘Can I get you anything?'' She fumbled in her pocket for her purse and looked over towards the serving area.

‘‘No.'' Gerry put his hand on her forearm and when she tried to stand up he held her down. ‘‘Stay a minute. I need to talk to you.'' He put the flask away in his pocket.

She forced herself to face him. He scanned across her face and back again. Irritation rose up in her.

‘‘What?'' She tried to sound patient, but it was there, that tone of annoyance. Gerry didn't appear to have noticed. To be so unaware of other people, thought Laurie, it must be so
freeing
not to notice what other people were thinking.

‘‘Laurie.'' He shook his head slowly.

‘‘Yes?''

He shook his head again.

‘‘What Gerry?''

‘‘I just … I feel terrible about what happened.''

‘‘Do you?'' asked Laurie. She'd so wanted to come and see him after what Pat had told her, but now she didn't know if she had the stamina for all this.

She hated it when men cried. It was heart breaking and irritating at the same time. It used to be that you never saw men crying. When she was growing up she would have thought it more likely for her dad to fly than burst into tears. But now men were crying all the time. Elaborately, shoulder-shakingly. God, the Princess Diana effect.

The TV made it seem as if men had to be sharing their feelings all the time and that inevitably led to much wailing and gnashing of teeth. She wished men would revert to strong silence. Even her dad was at it now. When her mum died she'd seen him, wet faced and seemingly free of shame. She suspected her dad wasn't even particularly heart-broken by her mum's death. It was if he was taking the opportunity to have a cry. Get some sympathy. Maybe that was too harsh, but it wasn't like he gave her any sympathy at the time – and it was her mother who'd died.

She stood for a moment imagining the outside of her family house. She pictured the front cut away like a doll's house revealing the life of her father. He was in the living room watching TV. The same as before. Except now he'd have to make his own tea. She wondered what sort of things he'd make for himself. She liked to think he was trying new things or eating out more, but she knew it would all be heated up items. Maybe she should just move Ed into her dad's house. They could live quite nicely actually. If she moved Ed's mum in as well that would be perfect. Ed's mum would love it. Ed would love it too. Laurie's dad would be delighted to be looked after again. Plus, he wouldn't even have to pay Ed's mum. Then Laurie could just fuck off and they wouldn't need her at all. Perfect.

Gerry handed her a five pound note.

‘‘Here. Get yourself something.''

She looked down at the five pound note and thought better of making a ‘‘thanks dad'' joke. This was becoming too frequent a thing. She wasn't a charity case. The money was old and tattered. Gerry was staring down at his tea again. She looked hard at him, willing him to turn his face to her. She knew he could feel her staring at him, but he picked up his spoon and stirred his tea slowly.

She breathed out.

He turned towards her.

‘‘Honestly. I'm fine.'' He nodded. ‘‘Please, get something to eat.''

There was something about his tone that compelled her to go over and pick up a cheese roll and a can of coke. She handed the money over to the man behind the counter. He managed to serve her without looking at her at all. She was glad of it. She felt she might burst into tears if anyone looked at her kindly, or even politely. She knew that if that happened it would be like before, in the break room, but worse, because she wouldn't be able to stop and she wouldn't even be able to pretend to be mad because Gerry would try to help her and make it plain that she hadn't escaped from somewhere.

She opened the can standing at the counter and gulped back a big mouthful. The fizz went up her nose and her eyes filled with tears. She stood, fists clenched, reminding herself it was just her body having a biological reaction and that she wasn't obliged to throw real tears in with the automatic ones. She realised that she was crushing her cheese roll. She took a deep breath, braced herself and walked over to Gerry, forcing a smile as she went.

Gerry appeared to have similarly pulled himself together. They sat in silence for a moment, trying out various smiles until they both began to speak at once.

‘‘Look, about earlier …''

‘‘Gerry, I didn't mean to …'' Laurie reached a hand towards Gerry's arm and withdrew it again.

They both stopped. Laurie nodded her head at Gerry. He took a deep breath.

‘‘Right.'' He stopped again and stared at the table top.

Laurie's patience ran out.

‘‘Christ,'' said Laurie. ‘‘I've never seen such fascinating formica.'' She smiled mock-encouragingly at Gerry. ‘‘Go on. You can do it.''

The thing was, she didn't want to be angry, but she couldn't seem to switch it off. It was like all the times she'd said horrible things to Ed, even when the voice in her head was telling her to leave it alone. But sometimes she just couldn't seem to keep whatever she thought zipped in. Other people must control that in themselves or there'd be hand-to-hand fighting everywhere you went. She looked at Gerry and tried to listen quietly.

‘‘Right.'' He paused for a second. ‘‘I wasn't very nice to you.'' He picked at the table top. ‘‘The other night.''

She nodded, but kept her jaw clamped shut. She wasn't going to help him out.

‘‘I haven't had a girlfriend,'' he shrugged, ‘‘for quite a while.'' He scanned her face. ‘‘I freaked out a bit.''

‘‘Okay.'' She drew the word out. She should ask him what he meant, but she had a fair idea of what he was on about. What really mattered now was whether there was going to be anything happening between them. Otherwise why bother caring about him?

‘‘Did you mean what you said?''

‘‘About slowing things down?''

She nodded.

‘‘Sort of.'' He picked up her hand. ‘‘I know this isn't maybe anything yet really. But I just don't want to get all …'' he paused and tightened his hold on her, ‘‘involved.''

‘‘Involved?'' She sat back in her chair, pulling her hand from his grip. ‘‘We aren't involved Gerry.'' She acted mildly outraged, put out.

Gerry held his lips in a straight line and stared at her until she looked down into her lap.

‘‘We are though, aren't we?'' he said.

The expression on his face infuriated Laurie. She took a deep breath. At this rate she was going to lift off the floor and float away into the night – an anger fuelled balloon. There was something about the sight of someone who was patently trying to be the grown up that provoked all sorts of childish feelings. Laurie resisted the temptation to throw her roll at Gerry's stupid, calm face.

‘‘Look Gerry, it was you that was upset about it.'' She jabbed a finger at him. ‘‘Not me!'' Although, of course, she had been upset.

He nodded, looking down at the table again.

That had wiped the smug self-control off his face. Laurie sat back in her chair, relieved that he was on the back foot now.

‘‘Considering this isn't really a relationship,'' she said quietly, ‘‘it certainly feels like one.'' Gerry kept his head down, saying nothing. Laurie started to feel as if she'd kicked an old dog and was just thinking about patting Gerry on the head when she caught sight of a young man entering the hospital, holding something to the side of his head. She was watching him wondering if he'd suffered some sort of side of head trauma which would lead to him fainting, when she saw it was Ed.

Ed! What the bloody hell was he doing here at this time in the morning? Was he here for her? How could he be? She ducked down in her seat.

She needn't have bothered. He didn't see her. He was too focussed on the mobile phone she realised he was talking into intensely. He nodded as he talked and gestured with his other hand. She hadn't seen him so animated in a long time, perhaps ever. He walked within ten feet of where she sat with Gerry, zeroing in on wherever he was going.

Gerry didn't look up. He'd started to pick at one of his cuticles.

She waited until Ed had turned off down a corridor and then stood up.

‘‘I'll be back in a minute.''

Gerry glanced up briefly then down again.

I bet he thinks I won't come back, she thought. Maybe she wouldn't, she'd see what Ed was up to first. She walked smartly over to the corridor Ed had disappeared into and glanced down it to make sure he was far enough away that he wouldn't notice her. She followed him, getting close enough to eavesdrop.

‘‘It's okay, mate. We'll get it sorted out. We will.''

The other person talked at length.

‘‘I know, I know. I'll speak to your mum.''

The other person again.

‘‘Well,'' he paused, ‘‘alright, I won't if you don't want me to.'' He nodded.

She felt like whacking him on the head and knocking a bit of sense into him. He was always nodding when he was on the phone. She remembered, just in time, that she was meant to be secretly tailing Ed and that she wasn't meant to be too close behind him. She dropped back just as he stopped.

‘‘Okay. I'll be down there in a few minutes. Just sit tight.'' He disconnected the call, put the phone into his coat pocket and shook his head a couple of times.

Laurie stepped behind a conveniently dumped filing cabinet and waited until she could hear him walking on. She knew that the chances of her remaining behind him and not getting caught were slim, but she was very curious about who he was talking to and what was going on. Obviously it was a youth-work thing. Probably some maladjusted drama queen teenager who'd identified Ed as a soft touch and was planning on taking him for a ride. She felt an unwelcome pang of sympathy for Ed and his total lack of guile. He probably wouldn't even notice that some kid was taking the piss and, when he did find out, he probably wouldn't care, thinking it was all just part of being a caring person.

Ed stood in front of a wall mounted hospital map. He traced his finger along several areas of the hospital, clearly unable to find where he was. If he'd bothered to come to the hospital as much as Laurie had when her mum was ill, he'd have a better sense of where things were. Laurie contemplated going over and jabbing a finger at their position on the map, but knew then she'd never have this chance to see Ed in the real world as other people saw him. Their relationship was doomed, she knew that. There was no way she was going to carry on the agony, but she had an idea that she'd like to walk away from Ed with some version of respect for him. Perhaps seeing him at work was a way of doing that. Maybe if she saw him being capable and liked, she could treat him like any moderately okay person she'd encounter in life instead of feeling like thumping him every time he breathed.

Eventually he worked out where he was, tapping his finger against the glass twice.

‘‘Right!'' he set off decisively towards the swinging doors that led to Casualty. There was no way she could follow him through there without him seeing her and he'd know instantly that she'd been following him. She sighed and turned back to the main concourse where, hopefully, possibly, Gerry would still be waiting for her. She'd find out what was going on with Ed later.