The A to Z of You and Me

J

Jugular

‘THERE’S A WAY,’ says Mal. ‘There’s definitely a way you can kill someone. If you know the right pressure points.’

He grabs Kelvin at the base of the neck. ‘It’s to do with the jugular.’

Kelvin’s like ‘Ow! Get off!’ He squirms to get away.

Mal keeps a grip: ‘It’s around here somewhere.’

Kelvin seriously thinks he might actually die. ‘Get off!’ Definite note of panic in his voice.

Mal lets go and Kelvin hops out of reach, and twists to inspect himself.

‘Fucking hell, look at that!’ Red fingertip marks now begin to take hold around Kelvin’s neck and shoulder.

‘See?’ says Mal. ‘It’s somewhere round there.’

The door unsticks again, and Sheila’s footsteps return.

‘Well, well,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘It was nothing to worry about. It was a visitor. It was that man who was here before with your sister.’

‘Kelvin?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I don’t want to see him.’

‘Don’t worry, I sent him away. I don’t think he was too surprised. He didn’t put up much resistance.’

I hide my face in my hands. ‘I don’t need this, I don’t need it.’

‘Now come on, there’s nothing to be worried about. Honestly, there isn’t.’

She comes and sits down, and I’m a little surprised when she takes up my hand and holds it. Dimly wonder whether they’re supposed to do that sort of thing any more. It feels nice. She strokes the back of my hand tenderly, and the assortment of rings she has on her fingers clink reassuringly. Reminds me of a gypsy. Sharp twinkle in the eye.

‘This panicking’s not going to do you any good,’ she says, gently. ‘You’ve said it yourself, haven’t you? You know it’s true.’

I nod. Frown and try to keep my anxiety down.

Everything’s so close to the surface now.

‘Sheila, can I say something to you?’

‘Anything you like, lovey. Anything at all.’

I sniff and catch my breath, exactly like a little child who wants his mum.

‘I can’t let it go,’ I say.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I try to let it go, all these things, these anxious things. But I can’t. They just keep coming back to me.’

She strokes my hand, tenderly.

‘It’s invading. Even playing this stupid game, it’s like it’s invading me — it feels like every body part brings it back to me. Every part of me wants to tell the same story. It feels like maybe, maybe it’s meant to be that way.’

Insane to even think it.

Embarrassing.

But it’s possible to think it might be true.

Sheila looks at me, unembarrassed, and with calm collectedness. ‘I know, I know, lovey, I know. I can see it. And is there no way you want to talk about these things? Share the problems? I’m all ears.’

She puts her fingers behind her lobes and dinks them out sideways.

Silly.

Silly woman.

‘Listen,’ she says, ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I ought to tell you these accumulated problems would benefit from — well, if you’re still dead set against the morphine solution …’

‘Ah, I don’t know any more.’

‘Or if you didn’t want to go there, at least a little bit of massage, and maybe some gentle exercise.’

‘Mm.’

‘Nothing too strenuous, just something to take your mind off things. And we’ve got a woman who’ll come and do that for you — Karen. You’ll like her, she’s lovely. I can book you in for one, if you like? I’d like to see you up and about more, please.’

‘Mm.’

‘Or there’s a Reiki healer? Some of our residents get a lot from that; the woman comes in and realigns your chakras for you.’

She does an admirable job of saying it seriously, though I suspect at the centre she thinks it’s nonsense. I shake my head. No, no.

‘No, I didn’t think that would be quite your bag, somehow.’ I give her a smile. ‘Honestly. You’ve got to help yourself as much as you can, and I’m not saying that because I don’t want to do it myself. I can do whatever you want. But you’ve got to help yourself.’

‘Mm.’

‘Promise me you’ll at least think about it.’

‘OK.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’