Anywhere's Better Than Here (7 page)

‘‘No. That seems a reasonable age,'' he smiled.

She noticed he had really nice, straight white teeth. He'd look so much better if he shaved his beard off and cut his hair a bit. Still, he had a certain bearish attraction. He looked capable and warm. He was definitely warm. She looked at the collar of his T shirt. There was a small tuft of brown hair there, but it was impossible to tell with any certainty if he was one of these hair-shirt sorts of men. He probably wasn't, as the back of his hands weren't too hairy and in her limited experience, that was usually a dead giveaway.

Gerry didn't turn away from Laurie's searching eyes, rather, he straightened his back in his chair and sat still.

Laurie stood up. ‘‘Well. I think I'd better be hitting the road.''

‘‘Really? So soon?''

‘‘Yeah. There's only so long that I won't be missed. Eventually people will realise I'm missing.''

‘‘Who's ‘‘people''?''

‘‘Oh, you know, flatmates.''

So much for being more honest. But she didn't want to talk about Ed yet. She was enjoying being Ed-free and different to her real life.

She stood up and put a hand on his head, moving her hand gently over his hair.

‘‘Can I come and see you tomorrow night after my cleaning shift?''

‘‘Yes. I'd like that.'' He stood up. He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Where were things going, she wondered. But she didn't really care. For so long she'd known exactly what was happening next and what was expected of her. She'd done okay at school, she'd done fairly okay at university. She had found a job and a flat and a boyfriend. But none of it was satisfactory. None of it was of any real interest to her.

The problem was she had no dream of what she wanted. She didn't aspire to do charity work in Africa or climb Everest or hitch-hike across Europe. All she could think of was a list of niggly complaints. Petty moans about what was, on the face of it, an acceptable sort of life. At least now she had a little secret to keep her going. She was going to have to tell Ed about the cleaning job, but she was keeping Gerry to herself.

When she got home, Ed was in bed and all the lights were off. She took off her shoes and trousers and jumper, dropped them by the bed as quietly as possible and climbed in, trying not to shake the mattress and risk waking Ed. She lay on her back and listened to Ed's steady breathing, cursing him for his ability to not give a shit that his life was devoid of meaning. It would be so much easier if she didn't care about things. If she could be like everybody else going to their rubbish jobs and getting along with their pointless relationships it would be okay.

She stared up at the ceiling where a strip of light shone through the curtain. What now? What was she going to tell Ed? She'd have to tell him in the morning. She wished he wasn't asleep so she could get it over with. All this secrecy was driving her mad. She was no Mata Hari. Maybe if she rolled over, she'd wake Ed. But she couldn't move. The more she tried to roll over, the less able she was actually to do it. She started to feel as if the side of her body was electrified. Every time Ed breathed out she felt as if the hairs on that side of her body were reaching out to him like when you touched one of those electric experiment things in Junior Science.

Once she'd started paying attention to Ed's breathing, she lost the ability to breathe without thinking. Every breath was an effort. She couldn't get the rhythm right, either exhaling too soon or taking a too long in-breath. She tried to calm herself by looking up at the shadows on the roof, but they started to throb in time to Ed's breathing and the ceiling started to move slowly down towards her, pressing her down. She lay like this, pinned to the bed, silently gasping for breath for what seemed like hours until she managed to inch her hand towards Ed and tap him on the hip.

He turned towards her immediately and gave her a long look. She couldn't make out the detail of his expression in the darkness, but she knew what he was doing with his eyes. It was the thought of that sad puppy dog expression that snapped Laurie out of her fug. She made to turn over. But before she could, he clasped her hand in his.

‘‘Where have you been?''

Immediately she felt scorched. She had no right to this concern. She was nothing but a bitch. A selfish, immature idiot.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ed spoke again.

‘‘It's okay. You don't have to tell me.''

Laurie was perplexed. She was torn between making a full confession and crushing his hand. Was he trying that I'm-giving-you-space emotional blackmail shit? Jesus Christ! She gave him nothing but space. Always had. She was the one with the shitty, steady job. She was the one who made sure there was milk and bread. She was the one who paid the bills and thought about the future and stayed with him despite the fact he never had anything to talk about. What had she ever seen in him? Well, that was all changing now. She'd see how things went with Gerry and she'd give Ed an ultimatum. Before she could say anything, Ed spoke again.

‘‘I was on the phone to Mum today and she's been speaking to my auntie Sheila.''

‘‘Yeah?'' Laurie had met Sheila a couple of Christmases ago. She was a teacher at the College and was quite funny for someone of her age. At the time Laurie had compared Ed's mum and her sister, marvelling at how different they were. But then, Sheila had never married and that had to mean something.

‘‘And she said to mum that there's a place left on the Community Education course that she teaches on and that …''

He broke off and looked up at the ceiling.

‘‘Go on,'' said Laurie.

‘‘Well, I thought I might do it. The course.'' He was still looking up at the ceiling.

‘‘Wow. Well, that's great. Are you interested in education?''

‘‘Em, yeah. I am.''

Still waters, thought Laurie.

‘‘When do you start?''

‘‘Actually, I went down to the college this afternoon and filled out the forms. I start next week. It's lessons in the college for a day then out on placement in the community.''

Laurie knew she should be delighted or relieved or something, but actually she felt annoyed that he'd done all this without asking her what she thought. And he'd lose his dole money if he did a course.

‘‘Mum said she'll pay my rent while I do the course and I'll get a part time job to pay for, you know, other stuff.'' He turned and looked at her.

‘‘Well. You've really thought this through, haven't you?''

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her.

‘‘What about …'' She trailed off, unable to think of anything to question him on. It was a good idea and they'd be no worse off in the short term.

He's getting his life together, she thought, patting him on the shoulder and turning away from him to feign sleep. She kept completely still and let the tears run on to the pillow unchecked. In the morning there'd be a black stain the size of a plum.

Laurie found that the cleaning job was exactly what she had been looking for. The work was easy and monotonous. She didn't have to speak to anyone unless she initiated conversation. She was told where to go and what to mop or scrub. She was equipped with the appropriate soaps and sprays, scrubbers and brushes, all laid out on a trolley that she steered down the quiet corridors at her own speed. The trolley, Pat had informed her, was kept in tip top condition. Maintenance sprayed the wheels with WD40 weekly to prevent squeaks that would disturb patients. Pat was very hot on not disturbing patients.

‘‘We should be invisible. If there's one thing I can't abide, it's a chatty cleaner. We aren't here to talk to people, we're there to keep things clean. This isn't a hotel, this is a hospital. Things must be kept clean. It's bad enough the doctors and nurses not washing their hands properly, we have to make sure that our job is done thoroughly.''

She looked at Laurie, obviously expecting a response.

‘‘Of course, Pat, of course.''

‘‘Right, good. You just make sure you clean properly where you're assigned and we'll get on great.'' She handed Laurie some white overalls. ‘‘You wear these at all times. If it gets a stain on it – you change it, straight away. There are more of them in there.'' She pointed to the stock room. ‘‘You look like a medium to me. You can change in there.''

Laurie put the overall on over her vest and leggings and folded the rest of her clothes up and put them on a chair. She snapped up the buttons on the front. It was a bit big and resembled a lab coat but with short sleeves. Instantly, Laurie felt capable and part of something bigger than herself. She'd often wished she'd had some sort of uniform in her last job. It was tiring having to think of what to wear all the time.

She came out of the cupboard and Pat smiled at her.

‘‘Tomorrow you'll need to wear a pale bra underneath, and I'd suggest you always wear thick, black tights. That way no one can see your knickers.'' Pat laughed, instantly making her appear ten years younger. ‘‘You can be as quiet as a mouse, but there's always some dirty bugger notices your knickers through the skirt and makes a big joke of it. Better to show nothing, eh?''

Pat laughed again at the expression on Laurie's face.

‘‘It's the geriatric ward. When they're awake, some of the men can be a bit of a handful.'' Her face became sombre. ‘‘It's a shame. It's often the men who were lovely and polite who become the worst with the dementia. Gropey, grabby, pass-remarkable.'' She shook her head. ‘‘You'll work out which ones to stay out of reach of. Anyway, you won't see much of that for the first few weeks. I'll have you on floors and surfaces until you get used to things and then we'll see about ward cleaning. Right. Are you ready to get going?''

‘‘Yes, I am,'' said Laurie.

Pat stood up and put her hand on Laurie's shoulder. ‘‘Welcome to the team Laurie. I think you'll enjoy it here.''

‘‘Thanks. I think I will,'' said Laurie, surprising herself by meaning it.

The first job she was given was to clean the corridors between Wards 22 and 23. Ward 22 was where they housed elderly people who were on the way out, but who didn't require a high level of care. Ward 23 seemed to be populated by elderly people who needed more machinery. She had to pass though this ward to collect the cleaning log in which to write the time she cleaned and jot down her initials. Pat made sure everyone did this for every section of cleaning. Laurie was impressed by her efficiency. Apparently the nurse she asked for the log was less impressed.

‘‘It's there hanging on its designated hook. Just fill it out in future. We don't have time to answer questions about cleaning or forms about cleaning, okay?''

The nurse had been sitting reading a magazine, drinking from a mug that read, ‘‘Queen of the Fucking Universe.'' When Laurie knocked on the open door, the nurse tutted and thumped her mug down. She was about eighteen. She probably wasn't even a nurse. She was probably an auxiliary.

‘‘Sorry to have disturbed you,'' muttered Laurie, signing the sheet and hooking the clipboard back up again. She had to stop herself from touching her forelock as she backed out of the nurses' station.

As she walked back along the ward to her corridor, she kept her eyes down, not wanting to see and remember the people hooked up and bleeping in their beds.

She made quick work of the lino, enjoying swooping the mop one way and then the other then wringing out the grey water in her special bucket. Her arms tingled from the work and she could feel her heart beating in her chest. She'd sleep well tonight, she thought.

After a couple of hours and just as she was giving her mop a rigorous squeeze, Pat appeared at the doorway.

‘‘That's time for your break. We're all having a cuppa in the staff room.''

Laurie pushed her trolley after Pat. She parked up with two other trolleys outside the cleaners' staffroom while Pat held the door open for her.

‘‘Now, Laurie, you know Margaret already,'' said Pat indicating where Margaret sat, eating a sandwich. Margaret looked up and tried to smile, but a piece of egg mayonnaise started to fall out of her mouth and she scooped it up with one hand whilst doing a little wave with the sandwich. Pat pointed to a plump young woman and smiled. ‘‘And this is Marie.'' Marie was about Laurie's age and she beamed up at Laurie.

‘‘Take a seat Laurie. You must be knackered,'' said Marie, half rising from her chair. ‘‘I know I was when I first started.''

‘‘Aye,'' said Pat, ‘‘knackered from talking!''

The three women all roared with laughter. It was strangely reminiscent of coffee time at BT. Why did women do this when they got together? Break time was more tiring for Laurie than working. She found it hard to work herself into hysteria over lame jokes and comments about the other women and their boyfriends and their superiors. It was always taking the piss and making a joke of things. She felt as if women in break rooms took their cue from dramas about women during the war, making the best of a bad situation.

She'd have to find a way to avoid breaks in here.

‘‘Would you like a biscuit Laurie?'' asked Marie pointing to a packet of digestives on the table between the seats. Laurie hadn't thought to bring a snack with her and was ravenous.

‘‘Yes please.''

‘‘Take a few,'' said Marie, ‘‘please – it's all the less for me.'' She patted her stomach. She was slightly overweight and had the look of a dinner lady about her; Laurie could imagine her with a ladle.

Laurie finished the biscuit and looked around. It was just a room with six lockers and a little kitchenette with a sink, kettle and microwave.