Chapter 34 Stephanie
Stephanie
Present day
‘We know it’s a shock,’ the policewoman said gently. ‘But Mr Russell is going to be all right.’
‘What happened?’
‘He was turning left out of a junction. There was a queue of traffic on the opposite side of the road and someone decided to nip out on to his side of the street. They would have hit him head-on if he hadn’t reacted so fast. As it is, his car’s a write-off, but we’ve just had word that he is okay.’
‘Head-on?’ I said faintly. ‘How badly hurt is he?’
‘Cuts and bruises, I think. A bang on his head and a broken arm from yanking the steering wheel.’
I put my hand up to my head, thinking about how fragile life was. ‘Why did you come here?’ I asked. ‘I’m not his next of kin or anything. Why me?’
The policewoman smiled at me. ‘He was unconscious when the ambulance arrived, and yours was the most frequently called number on his phone. I think they’ve tracked down his mum now, though.’
‘Okay. Good. Where does she live?’
‘She’s on her way from Manchester, apparently.’
‘We can take you to the hospital,’ the policeman said. ‘Drop you off.’
‘No thank you. I’ll get some bits together and then make my own way.’ I forced a smile. ‘Thank you for coming to tell me.’
I showed them out and then went to sit on the sofa. I was shivering though the day was warm.
‘Head-on,’ I muttered to myself. Head-bloody-on. Finn could have been badly injured. He could have died. Sudden nausea overwhelmed me and I sprinted to the bathroom where I threw up violently.
When my stomach was empty of last night’s pizza and wine, I sank down against the wall of the bathroom and cried and cried. I wasn’t ready for this, I thought. I wasn’t ready for the feeling of liking someone and risking that those feelings could be taken away. I was too fragile, too raw.
Feeling weak and pathetic I got up from the floor and went into my bedroom.
I took off my dressing gown, put on my pyjamas and crawled into bed, but the sheets smelled of Finn, so I got out again, pulled the sheet off, and put a clean one on.
I didn’t have the energy to change the duvet cover, so I just flipped it round.
Huddled under the covers, I messaged Blessing telling her I had a tummy bug and couldn’t come to work, then I did the same to Tara. Both of them replied saying I should stay away for twenty-four hours, and I was glad.
Then, hating myself, I messaged Finn. “I’m sorry,” I wrote. I pressed send, then I blocked his number and deleted him from my contacts, like the big old pathetic coward I was.
I pulled the duvet right over my head and went to sleep.
*
I didn’t leave the flat for an entire day and night. I heard Micah come in at one point. He knocked gently on my bedroom door and I called out to him. ‘I’m sick,’ I lied. ‘Don’t come in, you don’t want to catch it.’
‘Should I call someone?’ he asked. ‘Let someone know?’
‘No,’ I said through the door. ‘There’s no one.’
Eventually on the second day, I knew I had to get up.
I gave myself a little pep talk. Finn wasn’t dead.
This wasn’t the same as what had happened with Max.
Finn wasn’t hurt. And nothing bad had happened.
Except for me realising I wasn’t really in a good place to start a relationship.
I was too messed up. I had to let Finn go and that way it would all be okay.
I just hoped I wouldn’t bump into him at Tall Trees.
I thought I might ask Blessing to put me on evenings and nights for a while, just so I could stay out of his way.
I did, though, still have Elsie’s book. I knew I should return it. I was working later that day so I’d just have to bite the bullet and give it back.
But first, there was something else I needed to do.
Micah’s suggestion of writing to Max had stuck in my head. I couldn’t stop wondering if he was right – if it would make me feel better. This thing with Finn and the police turning up had brought back all the horrible feelings of that time, and I thought that perhaps I should write them down.
Maybe I’d never send it, but I felt I needed to get the thoughts out of my head.
I got dressed and sat down on the sofa with a notepad and pen.
“Dear Max,” I began. And then, much to my surprise, the words just started to come, flowing on to the page more easily than I’d expected.
“I’m sorry I said all those awful things to you when we argued,” I wrote.
“I was angry and frustrated that you’d showed up on my doorstep again just because you needed help.
But you’re not a loser and I’m not sorry you’re my brother.
I called the police after the burglary because you took everything I had and I needed to claim on the insurance. ” I underlined “everything”.
“I am not the reason you went to prison, Max,” I wrote. “That’s all your doing. I’m sorry for the things I did that were wrong, but you did wrong things too. I hope when you get out, we can be friends again because I miss you. And so does Nan.”
I signed the letter with the little sketch of the television with an S on the screen, even though it made me think of Finn and that made me sad. Then I added: “PS: I am keeping your leather jacket.” I thought I deserved it.
I reread it. It was fair, I believed, and I did feel better actually. In fact, I found I wanted Max to read it.
I pulled out my phone and Googled “how to write to a prisoner at HMP Portsmouth” which was where Max was. I found the address, copied it on to an envelope and put the letter inside.
I almost changed my mind as I plopped it into the post box near Tall Trees, but by then it was too late anyway.
It had gone and I had no way of getting it out again.
Feeling bold, I crossed my fingers that Max would understand and continued on to the home, carrying Elsie’s book carefully in my backpack.
When I arrived at Tall Trees, I pulled on my metaphorical big girl pants and went straight to Finn’s cubbyhole.
‘Is he in?’ I asked Vanessa who was hunched over a textbook containing some incomprehensible chemical formula.
She looked up at me. ‘No, he’s gone.’
‘Gone to the uni?’ I walked round the back of the reception desk and into Finn’s cupboard. ‘Oh.’
‘See?’ Vanessa called, turning her attention back to her book. ‘Gone.’
Finn’s tiny office was completely empty. There were no papers anywhere, no reference books or pictures pinned to the walls. It was as though he’d never been there at all. I felt sick again but I swallowed the nausea down.
‘Did he say why?’ I asked, coming out of the cubbyhole again.
Vanessa shrugged. ‘Just that he wasn’t working here anymore.’
‘Did he mention me? Or the book.’
She looked over her shoulder at me, her expression unreadable. ‘No.’
‘Okay,’ I said.
Rattled and unsure what to do with Elsie’s precious book, I took it to the staffroom and left it there for now.
‘How are you feeling?’ Blessing stuck her head round the door.
‘Better, thank you,’ I said.
She looked at me critically. ‘You don’t look better.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re looking very peaky.’
I felt peaky, but I gave her a fake smile. ‘I’m fine,’ I said.
‘You’ll need to be. I’ve put you down for bingo in the lounge. It’s starting in …’ she looked at her watch ‘… five minutes ago.’
Stifling a groan, I gave her a thumbs up and went off to see what was going on in the lounge.
It was busy in there – bingo was always popular – and when I walked in, Joyce said loudly: ‘About time.’
I ignored her, walking over to the table where the bingo set was already laid out. ‘Do you all have cards?’
There was a murmur as they all waved their cards at me.
‘Dabbers?’ I said and they all murmured again.
‘Where were you?’ Joyce said, appearing next to my table as I tipped the numbers into a bag.
‘I was looking for someone.’
‘That Finn?’
‘No.’ I dropped the bag and number tiles spilled out over the floor. Tutting, I crouched down and began scooping them up again.
‘He’s gone, you know?’ Joyce said, watching me reach for the number 22, which had slid under the table. ‘Does that mean he’s not helping with the mural anymore?’
‘I don’t know, Joyce.’ My fingers reached the number and I pulled it out, shoved it in the bag, and got to my feet. ‘Why don’t you go and sit down and I’ll start the game?’
She ignored me.
‘Because I think we’re going to need him,’ she said.
I bristled. ‘We don’t need him, because it’s my project.’
‘But he knows all about the book, doesn’t he?’
‘I do too.’ I sighed. ‘Joyce, what’s the problem?’
‘No one’s written in the book.’
I looked at her. ‘The new book?’
‘Yes, the new one.’ She ran her fingers through her hair.
‘Blessing said you weren’t well, and I thought it would be nice for you if I took it round a bit and got folk to write in it so when you got back, all you’d have to worry about would be the mural.
So I got hold of it, and took it round to everyone. ’
I smiled at her. ‘That was kind of you, thank you.’
‘No one will write in it.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Not even Mr Yin and he does everything I ask.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. All that’s in there is a letter from Val and some funny doodles.’
I felt my cheeks flush at the mention of doodles. ‘No one else has written anything?’
‘Nope.’
‘Why not?’
‘Some people said they felt it was an invasion of their privacy. Others said something about data protection laws.’
‘I’m not sure those apply here,’ I said.
‘I know, but that’s what they said. Kenny said you were going to put the letters on the internet for everyone to read.’
‘No, where did he get that from? That’s not true.’
‘Kenny doesn’t think so.’
‘Where’s all this come from?’
‘I don’t know.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You know how rumours spread.’
I sat down at the bingo table and put my head in my hands. ‘The book is a big part of this project,’ I said into my fingers. ‘It was the main reason the council picked my application over others. The mural on its own isn’t good enough.’
‘I’ll write in it,’ said Joyce.
‘That’s so sweet, thank you.’ But I knew that Joyce and Val didn’t make a project on their own. I needed most of the residents to take part if it was going to be a success.
I clapped my hands together to get the bingo competitors’ attention. ‘Hello, everyone,’ I called.
Gradually the chattering stopped and they all looked at me.
‘We’re going to be starting bingo in just a second, but first I wanted to remind you to take five minutes and write in the book that’s been going round.’
Joyce had gone back to the table where she’d been sitting with Mr Yin. Now she held up the book with a flourish, like the ring girls at a boxing match.
‘What about data protection?’ one of the men from the end of the corridor called. He had a very red face and an aggressive manner.
‘I don’t think that’s relevant.’
‘You don’t think, or you don’t know?’ he said. Pleased with himself, he glanced to his friends and they all nodded in approval. I almost expected them to high-five him.
‘I know it’s not relevant. We’re not holding any data that needs protecting.’
‘Looks like data to me.’
‘Well it isn’t.’
‘But it does feel like a breach of privacy,’ one woman said softly. She was sitting alone at the front of the room with several bingo cards spread out in front of her.
‘Oh give over, Maud,’ Joyce said crossly. ‘Don’t write anything private then. It’s not blooming hard.’
Maud scowled at Joyce. ‘I’m worried about what you’re going to do with our work. If you’re using it elsewhere then it should be copyrighted. I heard you were going to take our words and put them in your painting.’
‘I’m not using it anywhere,’ I said, beginning to get annoyed. ‘The only words I’m using on the mural are from Elsie’s book. Not this one. Look, I didn’t want to upset anyone. I just thought it was a nice way of recording memories or thoughts.’
‘So you’re not putting it on the internet?’ Kenny’s brows were knitted together.
‘No, not on the internet. Not on the mural. The messages you write won’t be anywhere except the book.’
‘Ah, I must have misunderstood.’
‘I think so. Who told you it was going on the internet?’
‘Tobias,’ he said, glancing to the red-faced man.
‘Who told you, Tobias?’
Tobias blustered a bit, because he didn’t like to admit to getting information from anyone else, and then admitted it had been Maud who’d told him.
I fixed Maud with my steeliest glare. ‘And where did you get it from?’
She folded her arms. ‘From that new woman, Helen. And she said she’d heard it from you. So it must be true.’
Helen? Again?
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ I said. ‘Let’s not ruin this project for the sake of one disgruntled resident who’s upset because she’s got no one to write a message to, shall we?’
Maud looked annoyed. ‘You shouldn’t speak about the residents like that, Stephanie. We pay your wages, don’t forget.’
I gave her a thin-lipped smile. ‘I don’t ever forget,’ I said. My anger at Helen causing trouble again – not to mention my anger at myself for treating Finn the way I had – was bubbling away under the surface and I tried to push it away before it burst out of me.
‘Shall we get on?’ I said. I stuck my hand in the bag of number tiles and pulled one out.
‘Two fat ladies,’ I called half-heartedly. ‘Eighty-eight.’
‘Give it some welly, Stephanie,’ Kenny said. ‘No need to be so miserable.’
I tried my best, but the mood in the lounge was sombre despite the residents quacking for “two little ducks” and whistling at “legs eleven”. It seemed I’d ruined bingo too, like I’d ruined everything else.
When the game was over, I gloomily packed it all away.
Joyce was deep in conversation with Mr Yin, her hand resting on the book, and I hoped she was trying to persuade him to write a message.
Goodness, if he was worried about privacy, he could write in flaming Chinese and none of us would be able to understand it anyway.
‘Stevie?’ Blessing stood next to me. ‘I’ve just had a call from the dementia unit. Apparently your nan’s asking for you.’
Well if anyone deserved to write in my book, it was my grandmother. ‘Is it okay if I pop over?’ I asked Blessing. She nodded, so I walked over to where Joyce and Mr Yin sat. ‘Could I take this?’ I said, putting my hand on to the book.
‘Absolutely,’ said Mr Yin.
I picked up the book and clutched it to my chest. Then I went to talk to my grandmother.