Our attention was diverted by a short, dumpy nurse in a crumpled and stained blue uniform. ‘Shannon Cripps,’ she called briskly.
One of the two drunken girls twitched, recognising her name and lurched unsteadily to her feet. The nurse went over to offer her an arm.
‘Wot you looking at?’ hissed the girl belligerently, spittle flying from her mouth, spraying the nurse who grimaced slightly.
‘It’s my job to look at you. I’m a nurse,’ she said ultra-politely. Her teeth must have been so firmly gritted she could have ground peppercorns with them.
‘Fuck off. You ain’t lookin’ at me,’ slurred the girl.
Her friend, a blonde with three-inch black roots, muttered. ‘Thas right, Shan. You tell ’er, Shan. You wan’ me to ’it ’er?’
The nurse discreetly flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. You could see her summoning up every last reserve of patience.
‘Do you want treatment or not?’ she asked in a very reasonable tone.
‘Go on then. Bin waitin’ bleedin’ long enough.’ Shannon moved with exaggerated care.
It crossed my mind that surgery without an anaesthetic was too good for Shannon. The nurse caught my eye. I gave her a sympathetic smile. She smiled back saying, ‘You’re next.’
The blonde girl who had roused herself long enough for this exchange, dozed off again and, without Shannon’s shoulder, slid to the floor, her plump thighs splayed in front of her like a pair of outsize sausages.
I looked at Daniel. He grinned. ‘Ah, the fairer sex.’
‘God,’ I sighed. ‘It’s only midweek. Can you imagine what it’s like in here on a Friday and Saturday?’
He shuddered. ‘I dread to think. Feeling OK?’
‘A bit sick. More the thought of what they’re going to do to me in there. How will they get that glass out?’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll numb it first... with a very big needle. One jab in your bum. You won’t feel a thing.’
I wrinkled my nose at him. ‘Daniel,’ I protested. ‘You’re supposed to be reassuring me. Anyway.. . I don’t mind needles.’
‘You haven’t seen this one.’ He grinned.
At last I was called. Just as I went to follow the nurse, Daniel caught my good arm. ‘Do you want me to phone anyone for you?’
‘Thanks. It’s OK. I’ll call my folks tomorrow. There’s no point worrying them tonight. They can’t do anything.’
‘Sure there’s no one else you want me to ring?’ he said, his face looking fierce for a brief second.
‘No,’ I said wearily. Who else was I going to phone at 4.30 in the morning?
He gave my hand a brief squeeze and with a regretful smile said, ‘That’s sad.’ At least I think that’s what he said. It made no sense to me.
* * *
My doctor looked weary; his skin tone matched the institutional grey walls.
‘What have we got then? Another stabbing?’ he asked unsympathetically, looking at my bloody arm.
I glared at him and his grubby white coat. You never saw that onCasualty.
‘No,’ I said angrily. ‘Someone threw a brick through my window and I’ve got glass in my arm.’ I enunciated every word carefully to make sure he knew I wasn’t a mate of Shannon’s.
‘Ah.’ He looked chastened. ‘Let’s have a look then.’
The next hour was something I’d rather not dwell upon. Despite a hefty injection of something — in my arm, not bum — I felt every move that doctor made and it wasn’t pleasant.
