Confessions of an Ice Cream Man. Timothy Lea
I say.
‘Some of the nurses are all right but I wouldn’t trust them with a syringe. I mean, it’s right back to the jungle for them. I’ve had them trying to inject into the bone.’
‘Feeling better, Sid?’ I say.
‘And that Doctor Balbutti,’ says my neighbour. ‘He’s so nervous he terrifies you. He chewed the rubber out of his stethescope while I was describing my symptoms.’
‘Mr Noggett? Doctor will see you now.’
‘I don’t think it’s necessary,’ says Sid. ‘I’m feeling a hundred per cent now.’
‘Nonsense!’ I tell him. ‘Your head is only hanging onto your shoulders by a thread.’ I lower my voice. ‘Belt up if you want to take this Italian bird for a few bob.’ I drag Sid to his feet and am disappointed to find that Valentina is tagging along.
‘Mr Noggett?’ says the nurse looking at the three of us.
‘The man with a neck like a turkey on Boxing Day,’ I say, nodding at Sid. ‘I hope you’ve seen suffering, love, otherwise you might as well chuck the whole thing in and wander across to the kiddies’ clinic – don’t nod your head, Sid. It could be fatal.’
‘Only the patient, please,’ says the nurse coldly. She is obviously a hard nut and I believe that they can turn like that.
‘But I’m the only one who knows the symptoms,’ I say. ‘I saw the whole thing. If it’s a question of settling damages, my presence is invaluable.’
‘Not at the moment it isn’t,’ says the nurse brusquely. ‘Wait in there. The doctor will call you if he needs you.’
‘You’ve got a white one, Sid,’ I say as he goes through the door. He does not reply because his head is tilted right back. This is probably why he crashes into the instruments trolley and breaks half a dozen thermometers.
‘Now it’s gone to his eyes,’ I say as we are shown into a small room containing a bed trolley. ‘That is serious. I was hoping the big game hunting was going to take his mind off the singing.’
‘Big game ’unting?’ says the bird, her eyes widening.
‘“Noggett of the North,” they used to call him,’ I say. ‘The very whisper of his name used to start the caribou migrating. He could shoot the centre out of a washer at twenty paces.’
‘But a washer does not ’ave a centre,’ she says.
‘Hmn. Maybe he was fooling us all these years.’ I can see I will have to step warily with this chick. She is not as stupid as I would like her to be.
‘What do you want of me, Mr Lea?’ she says, taking a deep breath and giving her knockers the freedom of her sweater to do it in. Her lips tremble and I am reminded of such sultry temptresses as Silvano Manure and Melina Mercury – a girl who could really put your temperature up.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I just want to remind you that there’s a man’s life at stake out there. That’s got to be worth something. Maybe you didn’t mean it but you’ve got to face up to the fact that because of you he may end up as some kind of vegetable –’ a beetroot by the look of things. I am enjoying my role. I always saw myself as more of a Raymond Massey than a Richard Chamberlain.
‘I repeat, what do you expect me to do about it?’ Her eyes are as green and level as the baize on a billiard table – only slightly less wide as well.
‘Let’s face it,’ I say. ‘This thing has got to go to court – or there again, maybe it hasn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’ she says.
‘I’d have thought it was obvious,’ I say. ‘If you anti up a few bob out of court we may be able to avoid a lot of unpleasantness. I mean, imagine the effect on a jury of seeing that poor creature out there and knowing that he was never going to sing Mozart’s “Cosy fanny” again.’
‘Cosi fan tutte,’ she says.
‘Just as you like,’ I say. ‘If you prefer the original it’s all the same to me. This is no moment to split hairs over the arts. There are more important issues at stake – that man’s future for example.’
The bird looks at me levelly and then takes a step to my side.
‘I zink I know what you are getting at,’ she says. She suddenly slaps the rubber sheet on the trolley bed and there is a loud ‘swalch’ which makes me jump. ‘You are trying to bedmail me.’ She reaches up and pinches one of my ears.
‘Ouch!’
‘If I sleep with you, you will forget the ’ole thing?’
‘Look,’ I say. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. Nothing was further from my mind. I was thinking purely in terms of a financial settlement to compensate for the injuries received by my unfortunate brother-in-law. Anything that might occur between us would arrive naturally in the fulness of time and as a result of a deep and meaningful relationship. It would be spontaneous and very beautiful.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Are you doing anything this evening?’
‘I ’ave no money. I ’ave only my body.’
It is strange but a feeling of relief accompanies my reception to these remarks. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Well, what about that car?’
‘It belongs to the business. My Uncle Pietro, ’e ’olds everything.’
‘He was the geezer who opened his trap outside the Highwayman?’
Valentina nods. ‘’E is an ’ard man.’
No doubt about that. And probably well connected to the Mafia to boot. Start putting the squeeze on him and you could end up with half a dozen unfilled cornets up your khyber. Best to reconsider the lady’s offer. After all, Sid is in good hands and the whole thing was his own fault when you think about it.
Valentina walks her fingers up my chest. ‘We make love and you forget about the whole thing. It was an accident, no?’
‘What kind of heartless brute do you think I am?’ I say. ‘Abandon my own brother-in-law for the call of the flesh? You Italians aren’t the only ones with family feelings. Tight-knit is the word for the Leas – or maybe ‘tight nits’ would be better. Anway, I keep the thought to myself.
‘Very well.’ Valentina tilts her head aggressively. ‘There is nothing else I can do. You will ’ave to sue.’
‘And anyway, we can’t do it here,’ I say. ‘Anybody could come in. I’ve been caught like that before.’ I start to panic a bit when I realise that I might end up with nothing after that diabolical cup of tea and all those old magazines with the crosswords filled in.
‘We could go to my ’ouse.’
Uhm. That sounds a lot more tempting. Goodbye, Sid. ‘Very well,’ I say, trying to make it sound as if I am struggling with myself.
‘So, it eez to be my body. Will you shake on it?’
‘I expect so,’ I say. ‘More a shudder than a shake really.’
‘I mean, will you shake ’ands to confirm your agreement?’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ I shake hands feeling a bit of a berk and Valentina tosses back her hair and walks to the door waiting for me to open it. I must say, she is very businesslike about the whole thing.
Sid is sitting in a chair with his head tilted back as we come in. I see his eyes swivelling towards me. ‘Well, we’re off now, Sid,’ I say light-heartedly. ‘If they offer you a transplant I’d think very seriously about it.’ I see a worried look spreading over his face and I lower my head to one of his lugholes. ‘We’re going to have a little business chat,’ I whisper. ‘She’s got an angle and I think there could be something in it.’
Sid nods.