From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel) (24 page)

I know they’ve heard what they want to hear, that Bernard will survive, that he’ll live.  That nothing can kill that indomitable spirit.  They haven’t heard that his situation is worse than the surgeon previously estimated, but how can I judge them for that when I’ve done the same? 

I hold fast to the belief that only the good die young.

And as much as I love Bernard, as much as he’s one of the most important men in my life, I can’t hide from the truth.

That old bastard has never been good.

Grinning into Juliet’s hair, I let the thought comfort me. 

And in the wee hours of the morning, my belief reigns true.

Stitched up, cut in half, bits inserted into places I’d rather not know about, Bernard’s patched up.  And while he isn’t as good as new, he’s alive.

And for me, Juliet, Bo and Rebecca, that’s all that counts. 

The last two days have been a blur of canteen food, hospital corridors and waiting rooms. Bernard’s been shipped all over the hospital and been submitted to test after test after test. He tried to convince us all to go home, but none of us would have it. Although last night, I almost caved.

I’m used to sleepless nights and being up at the crack of dawn on two hours kip, but in Italy, as crazy as it is, as fast-paced and manic as it is with the bloody mafia biting at my heels, I’ve been sleeping like a baby. Lights out at eleven. Up without the alarm at seven-thirty.

When Juliet arrived, that changed somewhat and one part of me certainly appreciated her arrival. But ever since, my sleeping pattern has been off-kilter and none so much as here. I’m shattered. Absolutely bone weary.

Last night I tried to convince Juliet that we should go back to hers or my place and get some sleep. But she wouldn’t. The hospital laid on a private room for us; something that’s probably costing Bernard a small fortune but he can afford it. We’re all taking it in turns to sleep in there and to sit with Bernard, who isn’t looking at all well.

He’s in the right place, so if anything does go wrong, it can be caught in time. But seeing the Maverick I know with drips attached here and there, pipes and tubes coming out of places I don’t even want to know about and machines doing what his body should… it’s a distinct reminder that my mentor isn’t indestructible.

And I think that’s what is hitting Juliet hard too.

All these years of bitterness and upset, misery and distrust and what does it all boil down to? Not a lot, save a waste of precious, precious time. 

Life has a tendency of throwing these situations at you and you just have to deal with them. I have a feeling that when Bernard gets out, and
out
he
will
be, they’ll be a lot closer and to be honest, I think this might be the best thing that ever happened to the pair of them. Even if it is in one of the most traumatic ways possible.

It’s a kick up the arse and who doesn’t need one of those every now and again?

My eyes are drifting in and out of focus as I stare at the wall beside Bernard’s bed. Only family are allowed in and I really shouldn’t be here, but in his few lucid moments, he requested to see me and I’ve been switching with the rest ever since.

I can feel my head edging forwards, my chin jerking about as my body fights my fatigue. Because of that, I almost jump out of my skin when I feel a papery-dry hand squeeze my own.

Bernard’s awake. And he looks old.

Really old.

I know he is; I’ve always known that. But it’s been in the back of my mind not at the forefront, because deep down, Bernard is one of those people who never really ages. He’s dynamic and magnetic and they act as a smoke screen. It’s hard to think that he’s in his seventies.

“Bernard!” His name is almost a yell, because the weak squeeze shocked me out of my half-in, half-out nap.

“No need to shout, lad.” A wry grin quirks up his upper lip and he grimaces, the hand retracting to finger the tube stuck into his nose. “I’m assuming I can’t request this crap be taken out of me?”

“No, you can’t!” I retort. “That stuff’s there to keep you alive.”

He shrugs. “If it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Bullshit. You’re a fighter, Bernard. A couple of pills a day and you’ll be as right as rain.”

He stares at me, his vibrant blue eyes dimmed somewhat. Almost like the light in his soul has flickered out. You’d think he was on his deathbed from the way he was talking.

“We all have to die of something.”

“Don’t be morbid.”

That has him glaring at me; the flame flickering a little hotter at my ref
usal to accept his nonchalant acceptance of his illness.

“Where’s Cass?” he asks, rather than shoot me down for backchat.

Shit. He had to ask that, didn’t he?

“She’s still in Italy. Someone had to hold the fort,” I lie and I doubt it’s convincing. I’m punch drunk from not enough sleep and my wits still aren’t about me. Bernard is probably making more sense than I am.

A shaky sigh bursts from his mouth. “I didn’t know, Joe. I didn’t know that you’d be in any danger.”

Honesty forces me to say, “We haven’t really been in danger. No one’s threatened us. No one’s come after us.” Apart from Monica; but I leave her out of it. Bernard doesn’t have to know about the attempted kidnap. “She’s just going through some trauma of her own. She told Juliet some things about her past and this all just ties in.”

“She told Juliet about that paedophile bastard?” Bernard asks, obviously astonished at the idea that the pair of them are on speaking terms and to such a degree.

“Yes. She’ll come around.”

“I doubt it. Reports from the factory indicated that she hasn’t been pulling her weight around the place. You need to get back there and make sure everything’s in order; it won’t sort itself out.”

“Not while you’re still in here.”

“I’ll be fine. This time of my life, I need to start getting used to hospitals. Life doesn’t stop because I’m ill. I’ll need both of you more than ever to pick up the slack.

“But before that, you need to go home and get some rest. Send Juliet in here and I’ll tell her to go with you.” He stares at me, those eyes knowing and I’m relieved to notice a twinkle. “Things are going well on that front?”

Under the spotlight, for a minute, I feel almost bashful. I’m on the verge of blushing, when I grunt, “Yeah. We’re an item.”

“Good. Should have been for a while now. She’s been making cow eyes at you since she was sixteen and you’ve been the same; grousing and griping at her for far too long. You’ll do right by her, Joe.”

It wasn’t a request or a question. It was a command and even if thoughts of my own hadn’t been leading me in that direction, Bernard’s dictate would have done it.

“Of course.” My voice is brisk, matter-of-fact. Because that’s how this situation is. Juliet and I have been pissing around for far too long.

He nods, satisfied that I mean what I say. “Just because I’m all right with you and her, doesn’t mean to say I like the order in which you’ve done things. But I’ll forgive you. It’s post-millennium, not pre.”

“Thanks, boss. You’re really kind.” My sarcasm falls on deaf ears.

“I know I am. You’re a lucky bastard to be getting my little girl. Nature might not have gifted her with a pair, but she’s got some balls has Juliet. You’ll make a good partnership.”

“We
do
make a good pair.” I stand and stretch. My limbs creaking with fatigue and relief at moving the tired muscles around. “I have to say, Bernard. Juliet’s a good asset to the team. Don’t push her aside because your idea of what your daughter should do with her life doesn’t mesh well with hers.”

He studies me and smiles. “I think that just confirms, without having to say another word, how you feel for her.” He raises his hands and bridges them on his belly. His head is pivoted backwards by an inch or so and he murmurs, “If I do that, what’s to stop me passing my seat down to her? Because you’
re in line for the job, when I retire. But you know that already.”

“I do. And if that’s your choice, then that’s your choice. It’s your decision to make. I’m just telling you; she’s good. Insightful and smart. It would be a shame to waste her talent; either that or let some other company snap her up.”

Bernard nods, a pleased smile on his face and he releases the grip he had on his hands and shoos me away. “Bring Juliet in.”

“I should tell the nurses first that you’re awake.”

“Sneak her in then. I want to talk to her and then I’ll talk to them. This is important, Joe. Don’t fail me.”

Frowning at his insistence and even knowing that I should tell the nurses, it’s too ingrained to follow Bernard’s lead. I head to the room, where the women are probably napping and tiptoe over to Juliet.

The place is a pigsty. Sheets and pillows all over the place; the floor is a mass of take-away food cartons and some clothes they’d had a friend bring, are bursting out of a few suitcases they’ve plonked on the floor. All three women are sharing the same room, thankfully Juliet is on the couch so I don’t have to disturb Rebecca or Bo.

In her ear, I whisper, “Your father’s awake. He wants to talk to you.”

That has her shooting upwards like a vampire at sunset.

She’s as tired as I am and
as soon as she jumps off the couch, she wobbles on her feet. I grab her and guide her out of the room.

“What have the nurses said?” she asks, almost slurring with her sleepiness.

“Nothing. He wanted to speak to you first. Then I can contact the nurses and tell them he’s awake.”

She sighs and her mouth pops open and shut; almost as though she wants to argue, but she knows her father. It’s do as he says not as he does!

“All right.”

“I’m going to wait outside. I’ve had my pep talk.” And depressing it was too, but I don’t tell her that.

“That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

“No. I guess not. But he’s all right. Just a little morbid. It’s understandable, I suppose. He’s coming to terms with his mortality. Hopefully, he’ll have poured all of that out on to me.”

Her lips turn down, the edges sinking so that her mouth is a picture of misery. I’m not surprised when they start to tremble and her mouth opens to start nibbling on the delicate flesh.

Lifting a hand, I cup her face and say, “Don’t worry, Juliet. Just go and speak to him. I’ll be out here. Waiting.”

She nods but it’s in a brave way; as though she’ll force back the tears and hold in her upset so as not to add to her father’s strain.

Sinking into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the corridor, I watch her back as she disappears into the room and I rest my head against the wall.

Before I realize it, I’m being shaken awake by Juliet. She’s looking brighter. Her eyes are a little dewy and I doubt she stopped herself from crying but I think Bernard’s made her feel better. Her words confirm it.

“We should go and get some proper rest.”

So saying and before I can even speak myself, she helps me up and the pair of us almost stagger down the corridor and into the lift, then finally out into the vestibule and the outside beckons.

It’s cold. As usual. Grim and murky with fog. The sun’s weak rays can’t penetrate the thick swathes of air and while visibility is poor, it isn’t difficult to move about. And when I spot a taxi, I don’t care if the fog turns blue, I just want a bed. I want Juliet in it and I don’t want to wake up for at least twenty-four hours straight.

Driving through London is a blur; I see nothing and when Juliet slumps against me, her chin bumping her chest, I join her in sleep. The knocking of the driver against the Plexiglas separating the front from the back jolts me awake. He opens the little window and murmurs in a low voice so as not to disturb Juliet – a very kind gesture- gives me the price of the fare. I give him a large tip for his kindness and manage to manoeuvre Juliet out of the cab and into my arms.

Thankful that she gave me the keys to her place so that I could pass them on to her friend, when she collected some pieces for Juliet, I stride towards the building and let myself in.

The concierge desk is empty; the shining marble floors are slick beneath my feet, especially as the soles of my shoes are slightly damp. In my arms, Juliet is a slight burden and it’s one that I could happily carry for the rest of my life.

But now is no time for thoughts of that nature. I make it to her apartment without any difficulties and let myself in. Zooming in on the bedroom, I place her on the bed and remove her coat and shoes as well as her trousers. She can sleep in the T-shirt she’s wearing without any discomfort.

For myself, I strip down to nothing and climb into bed. Tucking her into my side, I sleep.

A strange sound prods me out of my rest and even though I fight it, the battle’s already won and I’m the loser. Sleep disintegrates out of my reach and I’m awake.

Even though I’d prefer to still be a tourist in the land of nod, I climb out of bed feeling a lot better than I did when I climbed
into
it.

Stretching, I let the blood flow round my body and pull on the trousers I’d discarded before I slept. Decent now, I seek out the source of the weird noise.

In the hallway, there are a few print-outs. Glancing at them, and looking at my watch I notice that Juliet has got us on a flight departing in a few hours’ time. I also notice that the pair of us or me in particular, have been asleep for the last sixteen hours.

That was some nap.

Before I can congratulate myself on a sleep well done, the noises that penetrated my subconscious make a reappearance.

“What is that?” I mutter to myself and walk into the living room.

My eyes are still a little blurry from sleep, but now, ten feet away, my ears don’t and can’t deceive me. Moans, groans. Cries of pleasure and pain. Shrieks of ecstasy and desperation.

My mouth almost cocks up into a grin at the idea of Juliet watching porn, especially by herself, when a head of blond hair suddenly takes up the centre of the screen. And even though her back is to us, I’d know that hair anywhere.