I shake my head as I collect the scissors and sterile packaging. ‘You’re being paranoid. Nick’s a good guy.’
‘I’m not saying he’s not.’ Harris tosses theNational Geographicback onto the pile at the foot of the bed, then does a double take at me. ‘Hang on – he’s Nick Partridge.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who you went out with for a while,’ Harris says, tilting his head to catch my eye.
I squint at him. ‘How’d you know that?’
‘I heard about it.’
‘Okay. So?’
‘So he knows you. He’s probably looking out for you. Am I right?’
I fumble all the gauze and paper tape scraps into the kidney dish on the tray. ‘Nick’s a mate. He was already working at the hospital when I started –’
‘Sure, he helps you out at work. But what I mean is, he’s probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing, talking to you.’ Harris leans back on his hands. ‘He doesn’t want his ex-sweetie getting too friendly with a guy like me.’
It’s my turn to double take. ‘It’s none of his business. And what would he have against you?’
‘Nothing.’ Harris lifts one shoulder, almost like an apology. ‘He just figures I’m a local dickhead who bongs it up on the weekends and gets into punch-ups at the pub, and he thinks I’m not the kind of guy you wanna be giving the time of day to.’
I can’t look at him, because that assessment is pretty much exactly what I heard from Nick. ‘But…that’s unfair. He doesn’t know anything about you.’
‘He thinks he knows enough.’ Harris’s look is weighted. ‘He probably knows how I ended up back here, right?’
I match his look to reassure him. ‘He doesn’t know about your dad. He knows about the fight.’
‘Right. Which means he’s heard I’m friendly with Snowie Geraldson. That’d be enough to get his back up.’
‘That’s…’Bizarre, I want to say. But it would explain a lot. My forehead screws up. ‘Look, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, but whatever.’
Harris makes a face that suggests he believes it’s not only the right tree, but it’s a pretty well-marked tree. I think about what he’s just said, remember my dad a few weeks back talking about Gavin Donovan.I’d say Snowie Geraldson tuned him up. I knew about Snowie’s rep, but until I heard about the fight I didn’t know Harris was involved with him.
Now I’m curious. ‘Why are you friends with Snowie anyway?’
‘I’ll be friends with anybody who buys me a beer.’ Harris looks over, makes a flat snort at my expression. ‘I’m joking. You know his dad owns the Five Flags… Well, I’ve spent a fair bit of time at the pub.’
‘Pub mates?’
‘I guess. Snowie’s okay.’ He sees my expression change. ‘No, really, he’s okay. I mean, he’s an idiot – and that’s coming from me, King of the Idiots, so I can speak with authority, yeah? But I’ve known him since primary school. I just can’t bring myself to see him like other people see him.’
‘Right.’
Harris leans to catch my eye. ‘He’s not called Snowie, y’know. His real name is Gerald.’
That makes me pause. ‘Gerald Geraldson?’
‘Yep.’ He grins. ‘And he’s always been friendly, so…’
‘You’re friendly back. I get it.’ I steady the tray as I lift it. I’m taking a gamble with my next comment but I think it might be accurate. ‘You never thought he was just being friendly because you’re a customer?’
Harris wriggles himself back onto the pillow-end of the bed. ‘Sure, maybe that’s true. But Snowie’s got his own shit to deal with. I’m not gonna hang more on him.’
That’s something else I need to talk to him about. My voice goes quiet. ‘Harris, have you figured out how you’re going to deal withyourshit, once you get out of here?’
He grabs a copy ofHome and Gardenand flicks through it, studiously avoiding my eyes. ‘I’m working on it.’
