Episode 12 in the Jack/Danny Saga: Part one:
The coffin was a simple affair of light oak, adorned with a single spray of Madonna lilies. Jack's face was unreadable as the pall bearers placed the casket on the trestles at the front of the small Methodist church. The congregation rose to their feet as the opening bars of the first hymn rang through the hushed air: Abide with me.....Oh Jesus, I silently prayed, don't let Jack sing too loudly, everyone would stare at us and I felt embarrassed enough as it was. I cringed as my beloved launched into top vocal gear and the heads of everyone in the church swivelled in our direction. The widow of the deceased caught my eye and I felt a blush spread itself up from my toes to the roots of my hair. I instinctively moved closer to Jack who glanced down at me, noticing the flush, which no doubt clashed horribly with my hair, and the tears shining in my eyes. The fingers of his right hand discreetly sought, and gently squeezed the fingers of my left hand. I gave him a shaky, but grateful smile and suddenly his singing didn't seem so bad. The hymn ended and we sat down. Jack whispered a few words of reassurance in my ear and I lightly pressed my head against his arm in appreciation.
As the minister droned on I let my mind drift. It had been a traumatic few weeks one way and another. I glanced at the coffin and shuddered, not only because I had inadvertently brought on the death of its occupant, but because I so easily could have been lying in one myself as a result of the car crash on New Year's Eve. For the first time I let myself dwell on the events of that night.
The row of green lights shimmering into the distance suddenly represented stages in a magical quest. Making no effort to blink away the tears that were blinding me, I gripped the wheel and put my foot down on the accelerator. If I could get through the furthermost set in the fastest possible time, then the gods would have to grant my wish. Jack would not have Tristan in his arms and I would not have a searing pain in the region where my heart used to be. David Gray was warbling away on the stereo; something about Saturday and running wild, and all the lights changing from red to green. Only in my case the reverse was true. I had almost reached the equivalent Holy Grail of my quest, the third set of lights, when they changed. The man came from nowhere, striding out into the middle of the crossing, confident in his God given right to be there, because the lights told him so. I slammed my foot hard on the brake, but I was travelling too fast. If I didn't act quickly I was going to plough through him. In panicked desperation I swung the wheel sharp left.
Christ! I crawled out of the wreckage of Jack's car, hardly able to believe that I was still alive. The man whose life I had almost taken, was running towards the field I had ended up in. The car was on its roof and I had pretty much obliterated the hawthorn hedge that separated the field from the road. He was visibly shaken, gasping out breathlessly, "are you alright young man?"
I got unsteadily to my feet. Was I alright? Adrenalin was still pumping through my veins and I felt light headed, but, I glanced down at myself, apart from a dull ache in the ribs on my left side, everything appeared to be where it should be. God, I felt awful, I could have killed this person and here he was enquiring after my health. I began to babble. "I'm fine...yes fine...ribs a bit bruised, but okay....are you fine...I'm fine...really...sorry...lost control...I'm fine...how about you?"
He stared in disbelief at the mangled car. "I can't believe that you've come out of that unscathed, it must have turned over at least three time." He suddenly looked at me suspiciously, "are you old enough to be driving young man? Do you want me to call your parents?"
By this time, people from the nearby pub were dashing towards us, having being alerted by the sounds of the impact. I was swamped by a plethora of kind enquiries and offers ranging from did I need an ambulance, and was there anybody they could call for me? Fighting tears, I shook my head. The only person in the world I wanted, no longer wanted me. An image of Jack and Tristan flashed before my eyes, I felt slightly sick and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out all over my body. Jack, my beloved Jack had betrayed me. For a moment I wished the crash had killed me.
"You alright son?" A middle aged woman took my arm and looked at me in a concerned way. I stared at her, the light headed feeling was growing steadily worse and I was finding it difficult to bring her face fully into focus. I began to shake violently, then a wave of nausea swept over me as the slight ache in my left side changed to a sharp pain that radiated up into my shoulder. I tried to take deep breaths, but it made the pain worse. The ground rushed up to greet me and everything went black.
Eyes closed, I heard Ally before I saw her. The unmistakeable sound of her footsteps echoed down the hospital corridor, heading for the room I was sharing with one other patient. Listening to the laboured tread, as she dragged, then placed one foot in front of the other with grim determination, once again brought home to me how much effort it cost her to do something that I took for granted. When I'd first gone to live with her and Den, she had insisted on accompanying me on the journeys to and from school. Something that my mum had not done since I was eight, deeming me old enough to make the trips myself. Although it reduced my ability to bunk off school, I appreciated the fact that she did it. It made me feel secure and wanted.
What pissed me off was the way some of the other kids stared at her, mocking the way she walked. I got into a lot of fights over it, punching anybody that so much as glanced at her. She laughed, saying she was used to it, and that she could fight her own battles; thanks all the same. Ignorance and cruelty are worse disabilities than mine she said, but I knew it hurt her. A certain look would come into her eyes and I would fling my arms around her, hugging her until she could scarcely breathe. "Gerrof you soft little bugger," she'd say, but she liked it.
The footsteps ceased and I opened my eyes in eager anticipation. Jack might have let me down, but Ally never would.
She stood at the bottom of my bed, leaning heavily on her crutches, white faced, dark circles under her eyes, a small snarl playing about her lips....Hang on! My mind, famed for its razor sharp observational qualities, did a quick rewind. Shouldn't that be a small smile playing about her lips? I stared harder. Nope, it was definitely a snarl.
"YOU _f_u_c_k_ING PRAT!" She hurled a bunch of black grapes, produce of Chile, at me. They smacked against my head in a disconcerting manner. "You're finally awake I see."
Not quite the response I expected. I brought the lower lip into play. "Ally," I wailed, allowing it to tremble, "that's not very nice. I'm not well. I need care and nurture, not abuse."
The trembling lower lip fell somewhat short of a defensive device. She was on full steam ahead, nothing short of machine gun fire would deter her from tearing me off a strip.
"You need a bloody good boot up the frigging arse, you inconsiderate, selfish, stupid, foolhardy little bugger...And if YOU..."
She whirled round and stabbed a vicious crutch in the direction of the man in the next bed, who was tutting frantically at her bad language.
"...make one more bloody noise. I'm going to rip your tongue out, and then I'm going to tie a knot in your catheter and watch you explode like a frog with a straw up its arse. This is a private conversation, so BUTT OUT!"
Her dulcet tones set the windows rattling and the man, ashen faced, shrank fearfully back against his pillows. Jeeesus, but my sister was a total embarrassment. She turned her terrifying attentions back to me and I immediately burst into tears of hysterical self pity. "Nobody loves me," I sobbed, "Jack doesn't love me anymore. He stabbed me in the back. I saw them, I saw them Ally, Tristan and Jack, they were cuddling and......SHURRUP!"
I glared wildly at my fellow patient, who had given a strangled gasp of horror as I revealed the secret of my _s_e_x_uality, and was busy doing yet another rabid impersonation of Skippy the bush kangaroo(who was actually a wallaby and female:-the LIES they feed kids.)
"This is a PRIVATE conversation, so stop eavesdropping you nosy old BUGGER!"
"NURSE!" He began stabbing manically at his alarm button, "NURSE...NURSE!!"
Once the man had been removed to another room and we were left in peace, Alison flopped down on the chair next to my bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible." I poutily picked at the blanket on my bed. "I ache everywhere."
"Serves you right," she said unsympathetically. "Don't you think I've got enough on my plate, without you imagining Jack's car is chitty, bloody bang bang and attempting to fly it over hedges?"
"Sorry," I muttered, suddenly remembering I wasn't the only one with troubles. "Did you go for the..."
"Yes," she snapped, "and no I don't know anything yet."
"Did Dennis bring you?" I couldn't bring myself to say the name I really wanted to say, it hurt too much.
"Yes, he's trying to find a parking space, he dropped me at the entrance. He'll be up shortly, but don't expect hearts and roses, he's bloody furious with you. What the hell were you playing at Danny - Hamlet to my frigging Ophelia? Competing to see which one of us will get to shuffle off this mortal coil first? You'll do anything to be the centre of attention, even if it means being guest of honour at a bloody funeral!"
She got up as I began to cry again, quietly this time. Sitting on the bed she put her arms around me. "I'm sorry darling. I don't mean to yell, it's just I've been worried sick. We all have. Poor Jack, he just can't understand what prompted you to take his car like that. I've never seen him so at a loss as to what to do. He keeps offering to give blood, in case you need another transfusion. He's been beside himself with worry."
I raised my head from her shoulder and sniffed, "yeah, I can see how worried he is, so worried that he hasn't even been to see me."
"And just how would you know who has, and who hasn't, been to see you young man? You've been out of it for the past thirty six hours or so." Dennis' deep voice startled us both. He strode across the room, kissed me briefly on the forehead, removed Alison from my bed and thrust her back on the chair with the words; "hospital beds are for patients to lie in, not for visitors to sit on." Ignoring the filthy look she gave him, he grabbed another chair and sat himself on the opposite side of me. Folding his arms he gave me a look that made me quail. "Well?"
Oh God! Whereas Jack always favoured the why word in such situations, Dennis had always preferred the well word. The extra letter neither added nor detracted from its intrinsic meaning of:-explain your actions and make it convincing, or else! "Well what?" I entered into a half hearted stalling attempt.
"Don't play games with me Daniel, or I'll blister your behind, regardless of the fact that you've just had an operation to remove the spleen, you so carelessly ruptured, while playing demolition derby with Jack's car. What imagined slight caused you to sneak out of the house and go careering through the streets like some latter day James Dean? "
I gulped. His tone was such that I was left in no doubt as to how deeply angry he was. I poured out my woes, convinced that this would bring him on side. When I'd finished, Dennis, if anything, looked angrier still. Alison opened her mouth to say something, but he quelled her with a glance. She muttered something about monocracy being out of fashion.
"So," he abruptly stood up and began circling my bed like a huge blond vulture, his hazel eyes boring into me. "You see Jack with his arms around Tristan and immediately conclude that they are having a torrid affair. Regardless of whether or not your conclusion was based on reality, do you think that gave you the right to steal, yes STEAL," he cut short my attempts at protest, "Jack's car and then rampage around in it, putting yourself and everyone else at risk?"
By the time he'd finished I was fully au fait with what a self centred brat I was. Tears of shame coursed down my face, as he explained that the romantic clinch I had observed between Jack and Tristan, had been nothing more than a hug of sympathy and support. It transpired that shortly before I'd driven off into the sunset, Tristan had received a phone call to say that his father had died suddenly from a heart attack. It's an awful thing to say, but my own heart soared at this news. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from it. Dennis soon stamped out the small flames of my rekindled well being, bringing home to me the realities of my action.
"You almost died do you know that Daniel? You came within a hair's breadth of being just another teenage statistic." The eyes skewered me, "if it wasn't for the skill of the medical profession you wouldn't be here now. Jack refused to leave the hospital even when it became clear that you were going to be alright. New Year's eve, into New Year's day, into the night again, he refused to eat, sleep or do anything but worry about you. The nursing staff finally managed to prise him from your side late last night, convincing him that you were sleeping like a baby, and unless he wanted to end up in a hospital bed of his own, he'd better go home and get some rest."
"I didn't know that Tristan's father had died," I gazed at Dennis remorsefully. "I didn't even know he had a father," I brushed the tears away. Guilt competed with my dislike of the man. Dislike won the best of three, turning an Ace at the last minute, and I muttered, "he's so _f_u_c_k_ing perfect I thought his mother had machine knitted him."
Alison giggled, but Dennis glared her to silence. "This is no joking matter," he snapped, "and watch that language young man. The fact is you didn't stick around long enough to find out the truth of the situation. As usual, you decathloned straight to the wrong conclusion in medal winning style. When are you going to start thinking before you act?"
"Sorry," I drooped my shoulders and hung my head, in what I hoped was an attitude of repentance strong enough to break the flow of Dennis' nagging. I'd get enough nagging from Jack over it. Oh God! The enormity of the situation struck me like a thunderbolt. I'd written off his beloved Jag, and almost killed myself in the process. "How long will I be in hospital for?" I asked in a tremulous voice, leaning weakly against my pillow, hoping it was going to be at least five or six months, with the option of becoming a permanent resident.
Alison spat a grape pip into her hand with an air of ladylike refinement. Charming, I thought, not only does she assault me with them, but they're not even seedless.
"About a week, depending on your progress." She smiled sadistically, "I wouldn't make any immediate plans for the future though, not sitting down ones anyway, not when Jack discovers the reason for your impromptu little joyride. You'll be lucky if your backside's cooled down by Easter."
I glared at her sourly, "leave my bloody grapes alone. There'll be none left for me at the rate you're stuffing them down."
"You wouldn't have eaten them anyway, you hate fruit."
"Why bring me the rotten things then?
"Cos I was mad at you. I'll bring you chocolate tomorrow."
"Does that mean you're not mad at me anymore?"
"I suppose so." She spat a pip at me in a reconciliatory fashion, grinning delightedly as it struck me on the end of the nose. I gave an answering grin, holding out my hand for a grape so I could return the gesture. I got her on the chin.
Dennis, with an expression of disgust, leapt to his feet and confiscated the offending fruit, saying exasperatedly. "For heaven's sake you two, act your age, not your shoe size."
Ally stuck out her tongue behind his back. I cracked up when I saw it still had a grape pip on it.
"You just dare madam!" He didn't even turn around. Alison hastily aborted any pip spitting thoughts and assumed a look of angelic innocence. Dennis sat down and eyed me severely. "You'll burst your stitches laughing like that, you fool of a boy."
The last was said with a small smile, and a note of such affection, that I stopped laughing, impulsively reaching out my hand for him to hold. His large palm curled warmly around mine. Letting out a heartfelt sigh, he said, "thank God you're alright. We thought we were going to loose you Danny."
His arms were comforting, but not the arms I wanted. Dennis understood, stroking my hair tenderly. "Don't worry, Jack will be here before you know it. Pity his poor colleagues, I bet he's a crab to work with today." He gave a small laugh, "he's driving the nursing staff mad with his constant phone calls asking after you."
After Den and Ally had gone I lay back on my pillows and tried to sleep, but my thoughts were not conducive to rest. I switched from worrying about the outcome of my sister's tests to worrying about whether Jack would finally decide I was too much trouble and ditch me. Aside from that, my operation site was aching fiercely. The male nurse, a heavily built Geordie with the bedside manner of a serial killer, and an accent that made Billy Connolly sound Eton educated, was not sympathetic to my suffering. He informed me that I was not due any pain killing meds for at least another hour and perhaps the pain would teach me to drive more carefully in future. I scowled, who had asked him for a morality check?
He smiled nastily, saying with much contorting of his facial muscles, "hawehmanif yahdoon'tpackinpoutin'ah'llhaveyahtransfurredtaethekiddie'sunit, alreet?" Which I translated as meaning, "take that unbecoming and sullen look from your face, or I'll have no choice but to relocate you to the children's ward, do you understand?"
I couldn't help wondering what misguided career adviser had pointed this individual towards the 'caring' profession of nursing. Obviously one with a pathological hatred of sick people. To my chagrin, nay, horror, he suddenly produced a thermometer and shook it in a menacing manner. I clutched the sheet to my chest as he advanced on me like a small infantry division, my eyes opening wide, my buttocks clenching in terrified trepidation.
"Stick oot ya tongue," he snapped. I almost fainted with relief.
I must have dozed at some point, because the next thing I knew the curtain was being pulled around the bed, as the nurse prepared to check my vitals and inspect my dressing yet again. I stiffened as warm lips pressed against mine. Now I'm as friendly as the next man, but there are limits, and to my knowledge, snogging your patients was not part of a heavily built Geordie nurses allotted duties. I hastily opened my eyes.
"Jack!" My heart did a quick step, followed by a polka and a snazzy little waltz. My arms fastened themselves around his neck, "I'm sorry...your car...I..."
His mouth silenced me for an ecstatic few moments, his beautiful brown eyes transmitted love into mine, then narrowed ominously. "Just wait until I get you home and well again." His words lacked conviction though, and I pulled him towards me for another kiss.
"Bed," Jack gave me a loving swat as soon as we stepped inside the house.
"Aw Jack, come on. I've been in bed for almost a week..." I broke of as I caught the steel glint in his eye(funny place to keep steel of any description when you think about it, the potential dangers are horrific)Shoulders slumped, I trailed dejectedly upstairs, it was pointless arguing when Jack got that particular glint.
I flopped onto the bed, sulking heavily. I'd been hospitalised for six days. Days where I'd been bored to the point of death, to the very gates of heaven. In fact I'd got on friendly terms with the Archangel Michael(Mick to his mates) who was also fed up, having being severely scolded, and spanked by God for doodling in the margins of the Book of Life. He asked if I wanted a sneak preview of my own personal book of deeds which to date, consisted of forty three volumes filed under T for trouble. I politely declined, and as of that moment, decided to stop sneaking into the maternity unit to partake of gas and air.
Oh God, I rolled on to my back and stared at the ceiling. I felt fine, several buckets of blood had done me the world of good. I was healing nicely and raring to go. Jack was just fussing about nothing.
He awoke me several hours later, helping me sit up in bed. I had absolutely no recollection of him undressing me and putting me into it in the first place.
"What's this?" Disgruntled by my seeming inability to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time, I stared grumpily at the tray he carefully placed on my lap.
"Kedgeree." Jack maintained a politician face, "it's light, yet highly nutritious."
He couldn't fool me, it was bloody fish! Moreover, it was bloody fish in the evil company of rice and some cunningly disguised vegetables. All the things on my culinary hate list. Worse, something resembling swamp water was swirling around a cup, giving off noxious fumes. "What's that?" I nodded towards it suspiciously, wondering if Misty had pissed in the cup when Jack's back was turned.
"Herbal green tea, it has excellent health giving benefits. It's highly nutritious."
Sirens began to sound in my head as he repeated this chilling little phrase. I sensed that this was in danger of becoming one of his obsessions. Time to nip it in the bud. "It's disgusting, all of it. I want a chocolate and banana sandwich, coke and a choccy biccy."
"No."
Now Jack had been all charm and solicitude to me for the past week. It had given me a heightened sense of my own power. I wasn't used to this dissension and I was no longer prepared to tolerate it.
"Why not?"
"Because," he said in tones of infinite patience, which should have warned me straight away. "You need to change your whole attitude to diet and self care. You heard what the doctor said about your immune system being more fragile, because of the loss of your spleen."
He made it sound as if I'd carelessly put it down somewhere and forgotten where. We hadn't really talked much about the crash, which bothered me slightly. Considering that I'd sent his car to that great scrap yard in the sky, I'd expected a verbal roasting at least. But Jack had merely said that in comparison to the fact that I was alive, the destruction of his car was as dust in the wind.
He continued, "you'll be much more susceptible to infections, certainly while you're recovering from the op. I'm going to ensure that you look after your health and that means eating sensibly. From now on, the closest you're going to get to junk food is visiting the kit kat web site."
There was an Ann Robinson set to his jaw that frightened me a little (it clearly said:-you will not be the weakest link, not in my lifetime) I folded my arms mutinously, determined not to give way to his nutritional bullying. "You know how I feel about fish, vegetables and ricey things. They're bad enough on their own. Together they're....they're... TORTURE, and I refuse to be subjected to it."
Jack gently removed the tray and placed it carefully on the chest of drawers. I allowed myself a small glimmer of triumph. Finally, my voice was being heard, about time too.
.....on the other hand. I tearfully settled my hotly smarting posterior back into bed.
"Are we in agreement now?" Jack gently placed the tray back on my knees.
"Yes Jack," I picked up the fork and began to eat, deeply conscious of him standing at the foot of the bed like the Colossus of Rome, arms folded.
The colossus had eyes like the proverbial hawk. Alas, it did not go unnoticed that my face was swelling to hamster like proportions, as I attempted to store the loathsome crud in my cheek pouches, ready for disposal later.
"Swallow!"
I tried to say nonchalantly, "what on earth do you mean Jack?" But all that actually came out of my over stuffed mouth was an incoherent mumble, lightly interspersed with flakes of fish and grains of rice. Jack was less than impressed with my Marlon Brando impression and refused to give it critical acclaim. The man had not a theatrical bone in his body.
"Swallow the food you're attempting to stockpile in your mouth, before you choke on it, or, more to the point, before I turn you back across my knee and stockpile souvenir prints of my palm on your bare bottom."
I hastily began the transfer from mouth to stomach.
"How are you feeling?" Jack, after he'd cleared everything away, sat down on the bed next to me. "Rested?"
I nodded.
"Good," he took hold of my hand and patted it gently. "With regard to New Year's Eve Daniel," his brown eyes calmly gazed into mine. "Why?"
My heart went on a cheap excursion tour to my boots where it found the scenery unsatisfactory and returned to my chest with alarming velocity. "You know why Jack, I saw..."
"Ah-ah," Jack shook his head. "I'm not talking about what you thought you saw, or about the car that you shouldn't have been driving, on account of the fact I'd banned you from using it, because you have no self control, or the fact that you were driving much too fast. I'm talking about something more fundamental here."
I blinked at him owlishly. He'd lost me now, was he about to launch into an examination of religious tenets?
He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me hard in the face. "Trust. This is all about trust and the fact is, you don't trust me. You trust me so little, that you were prepared to believe I was carrying on an affair under your very nose. You risked your life on the strength of that belief. Why Danny? I've told you time and again that Tristan is a friend. He looked out for me when we were at school. There has never been anything of a _s_e_x_ual nature between us."
My stomach turned at the look I saw reflected in his eyes. I felt numb. I'd hurt him, not angered, not disappointed, but deeply hurt him. I was devastated. I loved him, I adored him. I trusted his judgement, his integrity in all things, except, my mind struggled with the truth. Jack was right, I didn't trust his feelings for me. I couldn't believe that someone like him could want someone like me; permanently. I was constantly watching and waiting for the moment he would realise that I wasn't worthy of his love and leave me.
Jack wasn't my first boyfriend, nor was he the first man I'd had _s_e_x_ with. Actually, on reflection, he was the first man I'd had _s_e_x_ with. The others had been boys, like me, experimenting, becoming acquainted with our _s_e_x_uality, exploring our physical nature. It had nothing to do with love. With Jack it went beyond _s_e_x_. I wanted to be with him always.
I suddenly wondered whether this was it, the moment I'd dreaded. Jack was going to tell me that he wanted to break with me. That he now realised I was too immature to be in a committed relationship, that he wanted someone more sophisticated, like Tristan.
The thought of living a life without Jack made my stomach contract violently. Tears and words came flowing out in equal proportions to the sick as I tried to explain to him how I felt. By the time I'd finished he looked like a refugee from an all night curry and lager party. An explosion of second hand kedgeree was steaming gently on his shirt front along with copious nasal and eye secretions.
He didn't bat an eyelid. Casually flicking a morsel of fish from his shoulder, he pulled me into a squidgy embrace. "What I think you're actually saying Danny, is that you don't believe in yourself." His lips touched my hair, "well, that's something we can work on together. I believe in you. I believe you're very special, and I love you."
I stood contentedly under the stream of hot water as Jack shampooed my hair. It felt good, the combination of heat, steam and his fingers gently massaging my scalp. From scalp they moved to my neck, then shoulders, down .....The door bell rang insistently. I could have sworn that an expletive with intestinal connotations slipped from Jack's lips, or was it just the hiss of the shower? He stepped out of the cubicle and grabbed his bath robe. I sighed sadly and rinsed my hair.
"Visitor for you," Jack came back into the bathroom where I was finishing off getting dried. "That boy from the snake pit, Peter." There was a slight edginess to his voice that always crept in whenever Peter was mentioned. "Hop into bed, I'll send him up, and don't let him tire you out." He suddenly stooped and kissed me gently on the tip of the nose, "by the way, did I mention that you're grounded and on early bed times for the rest of your life!" With a small wink he was gone.
Hmm, I glowered after him, funny sense of humour some people!
I was jolted from my reverie by Jack's elbow giving me a gentle nudge, as everyone rose to sing the second hymn. The organist struck up a chord on the ancient Hammond keyboard.
"ROCK OF AGES CLEFT FOR ME...."
My skin suffered yet another atomic eruption of colour, as Jack's stentorian tones boomed out, well ahead of everybody else's, causing the elderly organist to rocket a foot in the air with fright, hitting several duff notes in the process. Jesus, we couldn't go anywhere without causing casualties. At this rate the minister would be conducting another funeral. My heart thudded guiltily as I caught sight of the coffin again. I hadn't meant to kill one of the directors of Jack's firm. It was an accident, and none of it was really my fault. In fact, if you looked at it logically, it was Peter's. If he hadn't called around that day I came out of hospital to beg a favour, none of this would have happened.
End of part one...