Last Orders

Vince

Jack's eyes are shut, he looks asleep, and I think, I could just slip away, I could just sneak out, but if he's not asleep he'll know I've sneaked out, he'll have tested me. So I say, 'Jack?' and he opens his eyes, quick as you like.

There's that nurse on duty, Nurse Kelly, the one I fancy, black hair. I think, Given half the chance, I could try it on. Special circs, after all. Like when the world's about to end. How about it, Nursey, you and me? I could sneak out with Nurse Kelly.

I say, 'Amy said you wanted a word. Just you and me.' He doesn't say nothing for a bit, then he says, 'I told Amy I wanted to see Ray. I told Amy to tell Ray to drop by.'

He looks at me.

I say, 'It's me, Jack. It's Vince.' Because you can't tell, what with the drugs. What with everything.

He says, 'I aint lost my marbles.' Staring at me.

I suppose he knows by now, really knows. Like it's sunk in proper and he's had time to live with it, live with if, and it's not someone's idea of a joke. Like someone tells you it's the finish, but you hadn't finished, you weren't even close to finishing.

He must know. But I don't know what it's like to know. Don't want to know either.

He says, 'I know it's you, Vince, and I know it's me. You want to swap?'

I smile, sort of stupid.

He says, 'Come here, Vince, I want to ask you something.'

It's a wild night out, wet and windy. On the window at the end of the unit you can see the drops fluttering and fanning. But I don't suppose it matters in here, what it's like out there, rain or shine, it aint a major talking-point.

I think of Nurse Kelly going off-shift, wind up her skirt.

"Come here, Vince.'

I reckon I'm close enough, but I shift up the bed a bit and I lean forward. His hand's lying there on the bedclothes, the fingers half curled, the tapes and stuff further up on his wrist where the tubes go in. I know he wants me to take his hand. It shouldn't be such a hard thing, to take his hand, but it's as though if I take it, he's got me, he won't ever let go—

He says, 'I told Amy I wanted a word with Ray, all alone.'

'That's good,' I say. 'Ray's a mate.'

'Ray's a mate,' he says.

He looks at me.

He says, 'Amy don't know what's happening, does she? Amy don't know if she's coming or going.'

I say, 'She's okay, she's managing. She'll manage.'

Knowing she isn't, even if she will. Knowing she'll come into the spare room again tonight, where Mandy and me are sleeping, and want me to hold her and hug her, right there in front of Mandy, like I'm her new husband, like I'm Jack.

He says, 'I've got the easier job.'

I look at him.

I say, 'Don't seem a doddle to me.'

He says, 'People panic.'

Nurse Kell/s bending over some other poor bastard. I used to say to him, when I first saw her, 'You'll be all right there, Jack, landed on your feet there.' But I don't now. I don't know if it would be a torture or a mercy to be tucked up by Nurse Kelly when you're pegging out.

Her name's Joy. Nurse Joy Kelly. It says so on her badge, on her left tit.

Jack's dying and I've got a cockstand.

He says, 'So what did that geezer Strickland tell you? Before the op. Sweet-talk, you, did he?'

I think a bit then I say, 'I can tell you now, makes no difference. He said you had a one-in-ten chance.'

He looks at me. 'Ten to one. And you didn't bet, did you? I bet you didn't bet.'

I can tell he knows that I've known all along, somehow, that I haven't wished or hoped.

Chips for you, Jack.

He says, 'Help me up a bit, Vince,' and he grabs my arm and I brace myself so he can pull himself up. It must hurt with that zip in his belly, there's a purply stain on the bandage, but he doesn't wince, he just hangs on while I shift the pillows with my free hand. He don't weigh so much now. Big Jack.

He says, 'That's better.' But as he says it I can see the spasm starting inside him, I can see his throat working. He's going to fetch up some more of that muck. I grab a bowl from the stack and I get the tissues all ready. It's like when Kath was little.

He settles back, wiping his mouth. I put the bowl on the cabinet. He ought to look less like himself but he doesn't, he looks more like himself. It's as if because his body's packed up, everything's gone into his face and though that's changed, though it's all hollow with the flesh hanging on it, it only makes the main thing show through better, like someone's turned on a little light inside.

I say, 'What did you want to see me about?' As if I'm a busy man and I've got to be getting along. It came out wrong.

He looks at me. He looks right into my face like he's looking for a little light too, like he's looking for his own face in mine, and it goes right through me, like I'm hollow, like I'm empty, that I haven't got his eyes, his voice, his bones, his way of holding his jaw and looking straight at you without so much as a bleeding blink.

Then it wouldn't be finished, it wouldn't have to finish.

It's like I'm not real, I aint ever been real. But Jack's real, he's realler than ever. Though he aint going to be real much longer.

He says, 'I want you to lend me some cash.'

I say, 'Cash?'

He says, 'Cash.'

I say, 'You need cash?'

He touches the drawer of his bedside cabinet. 'I've got my wallet right here, next to my watch and my comb.' He half pulls open the drawer, sort of cautious and secretive. It's as though his whole life's in there.

I say, 'You need cash in here?'

He says, 'I need cash, son.'

But it's like I'm like his father now. Bedtime, Jack, no more larking about, I've come to say night-night.

I look at him and shrug and reach for my inside pocket but he grabs hold of my hand.

He says, 'I was thinking of a thousand pounds.'

I say, 'A thousand pounds? You want a thousand pounds?'

He says, 'By Friday, let's say. And not a dicky-bird.'

He looks at me, I look at him. He's holding my hand. He says, 'Don't ask me, Vince, don't ask me. It's a request, it aint an order.'

I look at him. There's the sign dangling over his head:

I say, 'Lend?'