Authors: Chris Simms
‘See you later, Punch,’ he said, switching off the telly and walking resignedly to the door. Out in the corridor he could hear Ellie clattering about in the kitchen. ‘You cooking, little sis?’
‘Yeah. Only spaghetti, though. See you in a bit.’
‘Good evening. Tea or coffee?’ The elderly woman beamed at them as he held the health centre’s swing doors open for Alice. After picking up their drinks, they proceeded across the tiles of felt carpet and into the meeting room. The hard plastic chairs were half taken by other couples and a pair of slightly embarrassed-looking women sitting on their own.
Jon glanced around, wondering how many of the other men resented the fact the classes had been arranged on Saturday nights. Quite a few, he guessed, judging from the looks on most of their faces.
He and Alice sat down, nodding hello to the couple beside them. Jon noted the prison tattoos on the man’s fingers and wondering how many times he’d been inside.
‘Oooof, that’s a relief,’ said Alice, stretching her feet out in exact imitation of the woman next to her.
‘Innit?’ she agreed. ‘My ankles are so swollen it feels like I’m on a plane the whole time.’
Alice smiled, ‘Have you tried any of those soothing creams they do for feet? They’re lovely.’
‘No, but that sounds a great idea.’
The two women slipped easily into conversation about their shared experiences of pregnancy. Jon and the other man sat back, Jon relieved that the presence of their partners between them prevented conversation.
‘Lovely to see so many of you here,’ said the health visitor a few minutes later. She started drawing plain blue curtains across the windows. ‘This evening we’re watching the birth video I mentioned last week. It’s not something you get to see on an average night’s television, but it’s well worth witnessing in advance of your own births I can assure you.’
Jon sipped his tea, realising to his annoyance there was no sugar in it.
‘OK,’ the health visitor continued. ‘Are we all sitting comfortably?’ She turned the telly on, then stood to one side with the remote for the video in her hand. Holding it within an inch of the machine, she pressed a button. The screen remained blank.
‘Oh, bother,’ she said, instantly flustered. ‘This was all meant to have been set up. Mary, can you work this thing? The little screen on the video recorder says it’s playing.’
Jon groaned inwardly as the woman who had made their tea got up uncertainly. Hooking strands of grey hair behind her ears, she leaned towards the handset, unwilling to actually take it off her colleague. ‘I don’t know, Marjorie. Did Trevor plug the scat lead thingy in?’
‘He said it was all ready. I don’t know.’ Marjorie thrust the remote at the video recorder again. ‘Nothing.’
‘Is it on AV?’ Jon asked, sitting forward.
‘Sorry?’ she replied, sounding relieved and instantly offering the handset to him.
Jon stood up and, after checking the leads were properly in at the back, pressed the TV/AV button. Immediately the screen was filled by a close-up of the view between a woman’s legs and a fast panting filled the room. ‘Unless this is one of Trevor’s private collection, I think we’re in luck.’
‘Quite, thank you,’ Marjorie replied, a tight smile on her face as a couple of the men suppressed snorts of laughter.
Jon sat down, only to receive a sharp jab in the ribs from
Alice.
Screaming started and a bulbous blue lump started trying to push its way out of the woman. Blood and slime were smeared across her inner thighs.
‘We’ve missed the first bit, but never mind,’ announced Marjorie. ‘As you can see, the baby’s head is just showing. The mother has been in labour for five hours and is fully dilated. Everything’s in the right place.’
Her screams faded into sobs and a voice off-camera said,
‘That’s brilliant. You’re doing brilliantly, Karen. Tell me when you feel the next contractions coming. Have some gas and air if you like.’
The camera panned upwards, revealing the distended belly, then the head and shoulders of a wild-haired woman. Jon was shocked to see she was totally naked, enormous and swollen nipples pointing off to the sides.
An ashen-faced man was sitting by the head of the bed, holding a plastic mask over her face. When he saw the camera was on them he tried to arrange the sheet across her breasts. As soon as they were covered she yanked it off again, eagerly gasping away behind the mask. He tried to take it off her face after a few more seconds and her hand clamped instantly over his, fingernails biting deep into his flesh.
‘Karen here opted for a natural birth. At first. By the time she changed her mind, it was too late for an epidural,’ Marjorie intoned.
Alice angled her head towards Jon. ‘I want every drug they’ve got. Understand?’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ the woman on the screen started repeating.
Jon saw the muscles in her thighs snap tight. ‘Oh Jesus, this is worse than that scene in
Alien
,’ he whispered, making Alice choke on her sip of tea.
On the screen a pair of hands reached out and grasped the top of the baby’s skull. ‘OK, push Karen. This is it. Push!’
There was no way the head could fit through, Jon thought. A nerve-shredding shriek erupted and suddenly the head popped out. A glistening blue body laced with a waxy substance quickly followed, releasing a gush of bloody fluid behind. Unable to watch any more, Jon shut his eyes and heard the health visitor say, ‘Now, as you can see, Karen is bleeding quite heavily from a tear here, but the hospital staff are waiting for the afterbirth to emerge before giving her some internal stitches.’
Jon thought of the cold can of beer on his living-room table. The film ended a few minutes later and he was able to open his eyes again.
‘So,’ said Marjorie, pulling back the curtains, ‘you’ve now seen one of the most incredible things Mother Nature has to offer. And soon you’ll be witnessing it for yourselves.’
She smiled at a room full of grey faces.
Jon took Alice’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’ll be there for you, Ali,’ he whispered.
She looked up at him and murmured, ‘You might want to wear gardening gloves to the delivery.’
‘What do you mean?’
She sank her nails into the soft skin on the back of his injured hand. ‘If my birthing’s any where near as horrendous as that, I fully intend you to share in the pain.’
Jon tried to extricate his hand, but she dug a little deeper, the sweetest of smiles on her face.
Chapter 22
Jon was buttoning up his shirt in front of the bathroom mirror when the doorbell rang.
‘Ali! That’ll be Rick. Can you let him in?’ he called down. He heard the front door open and a man with a foreign accent started speaking.
‘Cheap videos! Latest Hollywood blockbusters! Three quid each.’
He peered down the stairs to see Rick standing on the front door step, a stack of cassettes in his arms.
‘You must be Rick.’ With a smile, Alice stepped back to let him in.
‘Hi, there,’ he said in a normal voice, adjusting the videos so he could shake her hand. ‘And you’re Alice?’ His eyes dropped momentarily to her stomach. ‘How long before the baby’s due?’
Self-consciously, Alice placed a hand over her bump. ‘Around six weeks.’
‘Well, you look great. You’ve got that lovely glow no amount of make-up and sunbeds can achieve.’
Alice’s smile widened and she glanced up at Jon. ‘Thanks. Could you give my partner a few tips about paying compliments?’
‘Yeah, mate, very smooth,’ said Jon, sounding like a stampeding elephant as he came down the stairs.
Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Right, I’ve got a train to catch. Enjoy the blockbusters,’ she said to Rick, before turning to Jon and giving him a kiss. ‘See you later.’
The door shut and Jon showed Rick towards the front room. Punch stood in the doorway, an inquisitive look on his face. Rick hesitated.
‘That’s Punch, my stupid mutt. Don’t worry, he’s soft as shite.’
Rick stepped forward and Jon watched as he gave the dog a cursory stroke with just the tips of his fingers. He moved into the front room.
‘Want a brew before we get started?’ asked Jon.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Rick said, looking at the photos of Jon, Alice and Punch in various outdoor settings. ‘Who’s she?’ Rick asked, pointing to a younger girl who shared Jon’s bright blue eyes.
‘My little sister, Ellie,’ Jon answered, watching him from the doorway.
Rick stepped across to the CD collection. The mix was fairly eclectic, including Miles Davis, Paul Weller, Radiohead and the Smiths. He searched in vain for anything more lively. ‘Don’t you have anything you can dance to?’
‘Like what?’
Rick ran a finger along the collection. ‘I don’t know. Diana
Ross, Kylie, Madonna?’
‘Oh, you mean gay stuff?’ Jon replied with an innocent smile. ‘I think Alice has got a copy of
Saturday Night Fever
somewhere.’ Grinning, Rick held up two fingers as he placed the videos by the machine.
When Alice got in at six they were still sitting there, dirty cups, plates and the remains of a packet of digestives on the table. Punch was stretched out next to an untidy scattering of videos on the floor.
‘Mind if I let some air in, you stinky boys?’ Alice asked, her nose wrinkling.
Rick looked mortified.
Jon hit the Stop button and stretched his legs out. ‘What a nightmare.’
Alice undid the window latch and Punch’s head was suddenly jerked up by the shift in scents as outside air blew in. ‘Any luck?’ she asked.
‘Not a glimpse,’ Jon yawned. He looked at the heap of videos beside the machine. ‘We’ve been over seven platforms. Only another six to go. If we find nothing there, we start on the recordings taken from inside the main part of the station.’
‘How about some tea? Rick, would you like to stay for some food?’
Rick glanced uncertainly at Jon, who was still staring mournfully at the pile of untouched videos. ‘Er, thanks, but I’ve got something else already arranged.’
‘No problem. How about tomorrow if you’re carrying on with this?’
‘Yeah, thanks, that would be great.’
‘Good,’ said Alice, heading off to the kitchen.
Rick turned to Jon. ‘We’re narrowing it down at least. Only platforms eight to thirteen to go.’
Jon nodded. ‘Trains for Manchester Airport leave from platform eight upwards.’
‘Yeah, but there’s no record of him on any flights from that day.’
‘And the trains out to Liverpool and up to the Lake District usually go from platform thirteen.’
‘Which would fit with your theory of him being holed up in some remote beauty spot.’
‘True,’ Jon replied. ‘But something doesn’t feel quite right.’ An image of Pete Gray popped up in his head. He’d still be on the daytime shift, due to finish at eight in the evening.
He was wondering whether to mention his visit to Stepping Hill hospital when Rick began clearing up the mess on the table.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jon, only just noticing it. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
Rick straightened up. ‘Same time tomorrow, then?’
‘Same time tomorrow,’ Jon replied grimly.
Once Rick had left, Jon called down the corridor. ‘Alice, have I got time for a quick you-know-what?’ he said, knowing that if he uttered the word ‘run’, Punch would start leaping all over the place.
‘Whatever,’ Alice called back.
Her offhand tone of voice set off a small alarm at the back of his head as he poked his head into the front room. ‘Punch, fancy going for a run?’
The dog arched its back and seemed to bounce on to its feet in a single movement. Jon climbed the stairs, the mess on the table forgotten behind him.
They ate in silence, Jon faintly aware of the pile of plates and cups Alice had carried through from the front room and left by the sink.
He wolfed his food down, then mopped up the remains of sauce with a hunk of white bread. ‘So what did you think of Rick?’
‘Nice,’ Alice replied, sounding distracted.
Jon stopped chewing for a moment to study her. ‘Just nice? Doesn’t sound like you, Ali.’
She sighed and turned slightly in her seat. ‘How old is he?’
‘Almost thirty, I think.’
‘He’s doing well, then.’
‘Accelerated promotion scheme. Graduate and all that. This is just a stint with us at FMIT. He’ll be moved to another rotation in a few months, in between taking tests.’
He cleared their plates and carried them over to the others at the sink, noticing the time as he did so. ‘Oh shit, babe, there’s something I need to check out quickly.’
‘You what?’
But he was already heading down the corridor to the front door. ‘Shouldn’t be long.’
He only just made it to the car park at Stepping Hill before Pete Gray emerged through the doors. Again he went straight home and Jon watched his hazy form as it moved around behind the frosted glass of the bathroom window. He was shaving, getting ready to go out. Thirty minutes later he emerged through the front door, wearing brothel creepers, black jeans, a white shirt with metal collar tips and with his hair arranged in a glistening Elvis quiff.