Noughts and Crosses (24 page)

‘Are you sure you’re OK, Mum,’ Jude asked, looking up at last.

‘Yes.’

Ten seconds later. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

I wasn’t surprised when she finally barked at him, ‘No, I’m not all right, Jude. I’ve broken my finger, it hurts like hell and I’m sick of your stupid questions. So just shut up, OK?’

Everyone around us turned to look. Jude lowered his head, his cheeks flaming.

Mum looked at Jude’s bent head and sighed. ‘Look, I’m
sorry, love . . .’ She carefully removed her good hand from underneath her bad and tried to put it on Jude’s shoulder. Jude shrugged her off.

‘Jude, I’m mad at your dad and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. OK?’ Mum put her hand on Jude’s shoulder again. This time he didn’t try to remove it.

‘OK?’ Mum said softly.

Jude shrugged and nodded at the same time.

‘Callum, go and get yourself a drink or something,’ said Mum.

‘Why?’

‘I want to talk to your brother in private. I have something to tell him.’

‘Mum, please . . .’ Jude began.

‘This has nothing to do with the
L.M
.,’ Mum told him. ‘This is about you and me.’

‘Can’t I stay?’ I asked.

‘No. Do as you’re told,’ Mum ordered.

I walked over to the vending machine on the other side of the waiting room, but I wasn’t thirsty. Besides which, I didn’t have any money. Besides which, it was out of order anyway. It looked like someone had given it a good kicking – or tried to at any rate. I leaned against it, watching Mum speak earnestly to Jude.

Then even from where I was standing, I saw all the colour drain from Jude’s face as he stared at Mum. He leapt up, profoundly shocked. Mum pulled him back down to sit next to her and carried on talking. She leaned forward towards Jude, speaking rapidly with an animation and urgency that showed she was telling Jude something serious. Very serious. I straightened up as I watched them,
wondering what on earth was going on. Jude started shaking his head, slowly at first, then more and more quickly. Whatever Mum was telling him, he didn’t like it. He didn’t believe it. Or maybe he didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I started walking back to them. By the time I reached them, Jude was looking straight ahead, his face pale, his eyes almost feverishly bright.

‘Mum?’

‘Sit down, Callum.’

I sat down next to my brother. Mum put her hand on Jude’s shoulder. He turned to look at her, still stunned.

‘Jude, darling, I . . .’

‘Excuse me.’ Jude jumped up and headed for the exit without a backwards glance.

‘Where’s he going?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Mum replied unhappily.

‘Is he coming back?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why’s he upset?’

‘Not now, Callum. OK?’

It wasn’t, but I let it drop. Almost half an hour later, Jude came back. He sat down in his original place without saying a word.

‘Are you OK, love?’ Mum asked, gently.

Jude gave her a look like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Full of hurt and love and anger. Mum actually blushed and turned away. Seconds later, Jude did the same. It was obvious, neither of them was going to tell me what was going on. The minutes crawled by as we all sat in stony silence.

‘Mrs Margaret McGregor?’ A nurse finally called out from outside the room next to the reception desk.

Mum stood up slowly, doing her best to protect her finger.

‘Mrs Margaret . . .’

‘She’s here,’ I called out. ‘She’s just coming.’

Mum tried to stand up. I attempted to help her but it was hard going.

‘Are you trying to melt into that chair or are you going to get up and help?’ I snapped at my brother.

In a daze, Jude stood up. We steadied Mum between us and all walked into the nurse’s little cubby-hole.

‘My mum needs to see a doctor,’ I said when we’d barely got our feet into the room.

‘All patients are assessed here first before they see a doctor,’ the nurse informed us.

‘That’s fine,’ Mum said, casting a warning look at me.

The nurse shut the door behind us as Mum and Jude sat down. I stood up behind him. The nurse headed back to her chair stating, ‘I’m Nurse Carter. I’ll be your primary nurse whilst you’re at the hospital.’

‘Good. Fine.’ Mum nodded.

‘Formalities first, I’m afraid. Before we can administer any kind of medical care, I’ll need to see your
ID
cards.’

‘Sorry?’ Mum frowned.

‘It’s the new government ruling. All patient
ID
s have to be checked and registered. I think it’s their way of trying to stop benefit swindles.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Mum’s frown deepened. ‘I’m not even on benefits.’

‘It doesn’t matter. This hospital and every other nought
hospital in the country gets a certain amount of money per patient we treat. The government are claiming that some hospitals have been trying to abuse the system. So the government’s foolproof plan,’ the sneer in Nurse Carter’s voice made it only to clear what she thought of this so-called ‘foolproof’ plan, ‘is to check each patient’s
ID
card photo and fingerprint, so that patients can’t hop around from hospital to hospital getting sickness certificates and hospitals can’t lie about the numbers of patients they treat. That’s the theory anyway.’

‘And if I refuse to hand over my
ID
card?’ Mum asked.

‘Then we can’t treat you,’ Nurse Carter shrugged, regretfully.

‘I don’t think I have it. I left it at home.’

Nurse Carter sighed. ‘Then I’ll need the
ID
cards of at least two other people who can vouch for you.’

‘I resent this. I’m not trying to defraud anyone,’ Mum fumed.

‘I know. And no-one here is accusing you of anything of the kind. But unfortunately we have no choice.’

Mum lifted up her hand. Although her palm was facing down and the back of her hand upwards, Mum’s index finger was a V pointing up at the yellowing ceiling.

‘Why don’t you just chop off my finger and hold it to ransom until I can prove I’m who I say I am?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ the nurse smiled. She turned her gaze on Jude and me. ‘These are your sons?’

‘Yes,’ Mum answered brusquely.

‘They’re fine boys.’

‘I think so.’ Mum allowed herself a faint trace of pride as she looked straight at Jude. ‘Very fine boys.’

As Jude blushed, I ruffled his hair.

‘Get off,’ he scowled at my grinning face.

‘Which one’s the oldest?’

Mum paused for only a moment as she remembered Lynette. ‘Jude here,’ she supplied before my brother could. ‘And this is Callum, my youngest.’

‘OK, Jude,’ Nurse Carter smiled. ‘May I see your
ID
card?’

Jude dug into his jacket pocket and pulled it out. I did the same. Nurse Carter swiped them through something attached to her computer. It looked a bit like a machine for checking credit cards.

‘What’s that for?’ Jude asked.

‘All done.’ The nurse handed Jude’s
ID
back to him. She held out her hand to give back mine.

‘What is that?’ I asked. I hadn’t failed to notice that she hadn’t answered Jude’s question.

‘It just stores your
ID
details and thumbprints on our hospital database.’

‘I don’t want my sons’ fingerprints stored,’ Mum leapt to her feet, her face pale. ‘Wipe it off –
NOW
.’

‘Don’t worry, Mrs McGregor. As soon as you’re able to bring your
ID
card, your sons’ details will be deleted.’

‘You’re sure?’ Mum said slowly, sitting back down.

‘Positive. That’s standard hospital procedure.’ Nurse Carter looked from Mum to Jude and I and back again. She was trying – and failing – to keep the curiosity out of her expression.

Jude looked down at his hands. And then I realized what was going on. So much for my so-called intelligence. I hadn’t realized until now why Mum had
panicked at the thought of Jude’s prints being on file somewhere. Today was obviously my day for being incredibly slow on the uptake.

Nurse Carter lifted Mum’s right hand by the wrist. ‘How did you do this anyway?’

‘It was an accident,’ Mum mumbled. ‘I hit something I shouldn’t’ve.’

Nurse Carter gave Mum a considering look. ‘I see,’ was all she said.

The nurse examined Mum’s hand very carefully, turning it this way and that as gently as she could. But even at her gentlest, the nurse still made beads of sweat break out over Mum’s forehead and brought a pained shimmer to her eyes.

‘Well, you’ve definitely dislocated something in there!’ Nurse Carter said at last.

I mean – duh! We knew that already. And the look Mum gave the nurse said as much.

‘Yes, I know! But it never hurts to get a second opinion on these things! You’ll need an X-ray and then we’ll get a doctor to sort you out. OK?’

Mum nodded.

We had to wait an hour before one of the only two X-ray rooms in the entire hospital became available. And then we had to wait another forty-five minutes before a doctor came to see us. The doctor finally gave Mum two injections at the base of her finger to numb any pain she might feel whilst he reset her bone, but he wriggled the needle around so much each time, that poor Mum was almost biting a chunk out of her lip by the time he’d finished. He prodded it a few times.

‘Does that hurt?’ the doctor asked.

‘No.’

‘You’re sure.’

‘Of course I’m sure. I’m hardly going to say no otherwise, am I?’

The doctor acknowledged Mum had a point with a nod of his head. He carefully manipulated her finger, feeling along it on both sides before giving it a hard tug. Jude and I winced and I for one closed my eyes. He should’ve given us some warning. I didn’t realize he was going to just yank it.

‘Did that hurt?’ he asked, immediately.

Mum shook her head. ‘The injections did,’ she said. ‘That didn’t.’

‘Good,’ the doctor smiled. He took a bandage out of his pocket and started binding Mum’s index finger to her middle finger. ‘You’ll need to keep this out of water and bandaged for the next three weeks.’

‘Three weeks! I can’t keep my fingers bandaged up for that long. I’m a housemaid. How can I clean anything with my fingers like this?’

‘You either keep them bandaged for three weeks or you can forget about being able to use them at all,’ the doctor warned. ‘You must give your finger a chance to heal.’

‘But, Doctor . . .’

‘I mean it, Mrs McGregor. If you don’t take my advice, you’ll regret it.’

Mum scowled at him, but she got the message.

‘You OK, now Mum?’ I asked as we left our curtained cubicle.

‘I’ll live.’ Mum’s voice was clipped with worry. She headed straight back to Nurse Carter’s station. Using her left hand, she knocked on the door – three smart taps that signalled business. The door opened almost immediately.

‘I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning with my
ID
and I’m going to trust you to delete my sons’
ID
info from your database,’ Mum said.

‘Which son?’ Nurse Carter asked.

‘Both of them,’ Mum declared.

‘Don’t worry,’ Nurse Carter smiled gently. ‘It’s as good as done already. You have nothing to worry about.’

Mum visibly relaxed. ‘Good. Good! Thanks for all your help.’

‘My pleasure.’ Nurse Carter shut the door as Mum turned to leave.

Moments later we were out of A&E – thank goodness – and on our way home. It was a good forty-minute walk back home, but the early April night wasn’t too chilly. I looked up and made a wish on the first star I saw – something Sephy had taught me. The same wish made on every star I saw.

‘Is your finger still OK?’ Jude asked Mum.

‘Yes. The injections haven’t worn off yet.’ Mum smiled.

They walked side by side back home, with me trailing behind them.

Our
ID
s were on the hospital database. Why did that worry me so much?

Don’t be silly, I told myself.
You’re agonizing over nothing
.

How did the saying go? If you go looking for trouble, you will surely find it.

I limit myself to a glass a night, just enough to warm me up and chill me out. Waking up the following morning after my first night’s drinking had taught me not to overdo it. Each minute sound, each tiny movement had set off a series of massive explosions in my head like nothing I’d ever experienced before – and I never wanted to go through that again either. All things in moderation. I’m not a drunk, not like Mother. I just drink because . . . Well, because.

I don’t like the taste of this stuff particularly. And God knows it still gives me the worst morning headaches I’ve ever had in my life. But it makes me feel OK when I’m drinking it. Kind of warm and careless. It smooths out the rough edges – as Mother says. I don’t mind so much about Mother any more. I don’t even mind so much about Callum. A couple of drinks and I don’t mind about anything.

Isn’t that cool?