Collusion

47

Ellen clutched the doll to her chest and smiled at the air above her grandfather’s bed. Lennon wondered what she saw there between the slanted shafts of light and the shadows. She opened her mouth and spoke, but Lennon couldn’t hear her from his position at the other side of the corridor.

Marie and Bernie turned their heads to her. Bernie’s brow creased while Marie showed nothing but a kind of surrendered fatigue. She put a hand on her daughter’s cheek, said something, and her shoulders sagged at the answer. Marie’s father watched them both with watery eyes that showed no understanding.

Ellen said something, pouted at her mother’s response, said it louder. Marie closed her eyes and breathed deep. She stood, took Ellen’s hand, and marched her over to Lennon.

‘Please, take her for a walk, will you?’ Marie said.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lennon asked.

Marie looked down at their daughter. ‘She’s being a bold girl. Telling fibs. In front of Auntie Bernie, too.’ She levelled her gaze at Lennon, her eyes shadowed with weariness. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just too much. Not when I have to see my father like that. Not when I have to face Bernie.’

Lennon straightened, lifting his shoulders from the wall. ‘Do you trust me with her?’

‘I don’t have much choice,’ Marie said, placing Ellen’s hand in Lennon’s. ‘She’s safer with you than anyone else. I mean, you’ve got a fucking gun, haven’t you?’

Ellen stretched her hand up towards her mother’s mouth, but couldn’t reach. ‘You said a bad word.’

Marie seemed to fold in on herself, a tired laugh breaking from her. ‘I know, darling. I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll take her,’ Lennon said. ‘If she’ll come with me.’

Marie hunkered down, took a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at Ellen’s face. ‘You’ll go with Jack, won’t you, love? Maybe he’ll take you to the shop downstairs. Get you some sweeties.’

Ellen leaned close to her mother, whispered in her ear, ‘Who is he?’

Marie lifted her head, glanced up at Lennon, the sorrow laid naked across her face. She gathered Ellen close. ‘An old friend of Mummy’s. He’ll look after you.’

Lennon swallowed a sour taste.

Marie untangled herself from her daughter, looked her in the eye. ‘I’ll be right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I just need to talk to Auntie Bernie for a wee while. Jack will bring you right back up once he’s got you some sweeties, okay?’

Ellen stared at the floor, her doll clasped tight. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay,’ Marie said. She stood upright, touched Lennon’s arm. ‘Just give me twenty minutes, all right?’

‘All right,’ Lennon said. ‘She’ll be fine.’

Worry crept over Marie’s features.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Lennon said again, firm enough to almost believe it himself.

Marie nodded, ran her fingers through Ellen’s hair, and left the two of them in the corridor. Lennon and his daughter watched her leave. Ellen’s fingers twitched against his.

‘Okay,’ Lennon said, moving along the corridor towing Ellen behind him. ‘What kind of sweets do you want?’

‘Don’t know,’ Ellen said.

‘Chocolate?’ he asked. ‘Maltesers? Minstrels? Mars bars?’

She followed, her tiny hand lost in his. ‘Don’t know.’

‘What about Skittles? Or Opal Fruits? No, they don’t call them Opal Fruits any more.’

‘Don’t know,’ she said as they reached the swinging doors.

‘Or ice cream?’ Lennon asked. ‘God help us if you don’t like ice cream.’

They walked through to the elevator bank. Ellen rubbed her nose. Lennon caught an odour on the air, something lurking between the hospital’s sickness and disinfectant smells. Something goatish, a low tang of sweat, like the wards in the mental hospital Lennon had worked in when he was a student.

He exhaled, expelled the odour, and pressed the button to call the lift. Ellen’s fingers felt small between his, cold and slippery. He looked down at her. She held her doll to her lips, whispered to it, said a word that might have been ‘Gerry.’