Hello, My Name is May. Rosalind Stopps
Oh, Agnita says, pardon me m’lady, I’m sure I didn’t mean any disrespect.
She doffs an imaginary cap too, in an exaggerated way. I can see her in the big mirror that hangs over the door. She doesn’t do it for me because she doesn’t realise that I can see her, that’s how I know it’s not a joke. She does it for the other staff and I can see quite a few of them giggling away as if it’s the funniest thing.
I’m embarrassed and sorry for myself. It’s a horrible feeling, being laughed at, and it doesn’t help to know that it’s quite justified. I’ll keep myself to myself from now on, I think, speak to no one and then no one has anything to poke fun at. Probably Jackie won’t want to be my friend anyway. I slump a little in my chair. It’s been a tiring morning, a mixed bag, and I just want to be back in my room.
Most of the others have left the dining room now. I’m still here because Agnita has stopped to talk to Sammy, one of the other carers. Sammy is pushing the poorly man, the one from the room opposite and they’re so engrossed in their conversation, Sammy and Agnita, that our chairs end up next to each other. Me and the poorly man, side by side like we are in a ski lift or commuting on the 7.19 train from the suburbs. I’ve still got my head down. I’ve had enough socialising for one day, and I think the best form of defence is to keep on slumping, talk to no one. He smells a bit funny. He smells of old man.
Hello, he says and it makes me jump.
He’s covered in blankets and nearly as slumped as I am. I wasn’t expecting him to talk. His voice is croaky, like he doesn’t use it much and it needs oiling.
I try to look as uninterested as I can. There’s something about him, I’m not sure what. Something that upsets me.
I think I’m in the room opposite you, he says in his rusty voice, we’re neighbours. I’ve been unwell but I’m getting better and I hope we can be friends.
It’s familiar to me, that voice, I almost recognise it. Best to keep quiet, I think, best not to say anything at all. There’s danger in him, I can smell it and I can hear it and I can see it. He might look like a poor old chap with his blankets and his white hands clasped on top of the blankets like a baby but I know something else about him, I’m not sure what yet but I know something, that’s for sure.
Drop by for a cuppa, he says, I don’t get many visitors.
I bet you don’t, I think. It’s so hard not being able to say anything, and I feel so odd and there’s something wrong and before I’ve thought it through I lean over the side of my wheelchair and mime spitting on the floor.
I suddenly realise Agnita is watching. There’s a shocked silence and then she says, May, that’s not kind, poor Bill, why don’t you say sorry to him?
She’s got a nasty streak, this one, Agnita says to the other carer, the one she was chatting to.
I know, says the other one, as if I couldn’t hear anything.
You want to watch her arm as well, someone says, she’s got a powerful left hook.
That’s not me, I think, I don’t recognise myself, that’s not fair, I’m not like that. It’s cruel, I can’t even defend myself. I hate being talked about as if I’m not here, and I hate unfairness and people being mean, and I start crying even though I don’t want to.
Oh, now we’ve got the crybaby act says Agnita, I think it’s Bill that should be crying, not you.
We normally get on OK, Agnita and I, she’s one of the nicer ones and this is too harsh, too unfair. I can feel the tears plopping down my face like a child and I wonder how long it would take me to die if I stopped eating anything at all. It’s then that he speaks, this Bill character, this poor old man who everyone seems to adore.
It’s OK, honestly, he says, leave her alone, she doesn’t mean it. Look we’re still pals, everything is fine. And he puts his pale old wrinkly old arm over towards me as if to shake hands.
Isn’t that sweet, Agnita says but I look up at him and because of the position of our wheelchairs, no one else can see him and he’s grinning, it’s not a good grin, it’s a grin that says hahaha got you now and I think I know that grin. I just need to concentrate, remember where from.
November 1977
Hull
May couldn’t imagine life before the weekly meetings with Helen. Helen understood her, accepted her for who she was.
‘I’m so glad to see you,’ May said on the third visit to the department store cafe. ‘I feel stronger now that I have you to talk to, less stupid. It’s because you’re in the same boat, or a similar boat or something, you know what I’m talking about. That’s it, I think; either that or the fact that you never pick me up on the stupid things I say.’
‘May,’ said Helen, ‘where’s all this talk of stupid coming from? You’re not stupid at all, and it’s a horrible word. I think you’re strong, and clever.’
‘Yes, and maybe that waiter over there is Lord Lucan,’ May said.
‘I suppose he does have a bit of a look about him,’ Helen said.
Both women laughed uneasily.
‘A look of what?’ May said. ‘A look that he could have murdered his nanny, tried to murder his wife? Is it that easy to see?’
Helen stared into her tea.
‘Aren’t most men capable of it, if they’re pushed, I mean?’ she said.
‘No!’ May said. ‘Certainly not my Alain, anyway. Do you know, he can’t even bear to hurt wasps, he collects them in a glass or a jar and puts them outside, he doesn’t like killing anything at all.’
Helen didn’t say anything, and May could see there was something wrong.
‘Never mind Lord Lucan,’ she said, ‘there’s something wrong, I can see it, and I’m here if you want to talk.’
May felt like the most useless friend ever. She had hoped that she could talk to Helen today about the terrible business with the Welsh Film Board, but she could see that Helen had her own demons, and she should have realised that more quickly. Alain’s right, May thought, I’m rubbish at empathising. I have Alain at home, and Helen hasn’t got anyone, and I’m still putting myself first.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I hope it’s OK for me to go on about it, but I’m worried. I think Frank has been hanging around. My ex, daddy dearest. I haven’t actually seen him, but, oh, I don’t know, it could be my hormonal brain playing tricks on me, I’m not sure. Only there seem to be little clues all the time, tiny things. So small that I’m never sure if I’m just imagining them. Flyers in the hallway of my flats, for a pizza place we went to together. But thousands of flyers, and yes, they could have been dumped, before you say it. But it’s a coincidence, you have to admit. And there’s also the flat itself.’
‘What?’ said May. ‘Has he got into the flat? Surely not, Helen, oh no. How? What do you mean?’
‘It’s honestly probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I’ll scare both of us if I keep going on about it.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said May, ‘I’m not the one who has to live with it. It’s you I’m worried about. And, for the record, I’ve always been a scaredy cat, my mum used to say I was frightened of my own shadow. You’re much braver than me, honestly.’
May shifted in her chair. The truth was, the idea of her brave, strong friend Helen being terrified was terrifying all by itself, whatever the reason.
‘It would be great to talk it through,’ said Helen, ‘because the thing is, I might be wrong, it might be my imagination playing tricks on me, I don’t know.