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PROLOGUE
"Stay with me, come on, stay with me" She was yelling at the casualty who was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, blood pumping from his stomach wound as she packed his belly with gauze and used her other hand to shake him intermittently, trying to stop him drifting away from her into coma.
"We're losing him" Her fellow medic and colleague shouted, he was trying to monitor what vital signs the casualty still had and then relay them to where she was kneeling with her back to him trying desperately to stop their patient bleeding to death.
"No, come on, come on, you've gotta stay with me" She turned and looked up at the sky "Where the fuck is that fucking chopper? He's gonna bleed out before they get here at this rate"
"ETA two minutes, but they can't land here, they're looking for somewhere now, and whatever it is you're doing to him down there, don't stop, keep on doing it, his heart likes it"
"That's cos I've got me hand stuffed inside his guts and now I'm getting bloody cramp in me fingers and its bloody killing me, Jesus, I wish they'd hurry the fuck up"
-OG-OG-OG-OG-
You gave your hand to me
And you said hello
Listen I never really wanted the job in the first place, I'm not a cleaner, cleaning someone else's shitter was never my lifetime ambition, it weren't something I wanted to do, be a cleaner or a home help or a carer or anything like that. I do not clean up after other people and that's flat. I was quite happy to live in if I had to as part of a job, in fact it was very helpful as things stood, but I wanted to do something that would, you know, lead to me doing something with me life, being able to … sort of, get on a bit. When I went to the Job Centre all they had was working a 'commission only' zero hours contract at a bleeding call centre, I mean, they were having a laugh weren't they with my phone voice? And I did not want to spend all day pestering pensioners about bloody PPI just so as I would get paid. Apart from that, all they kept on about was going on bleeding training courses which might have sounded like they were perfect for me and magic 'n all that, but how am I s'posed to live while I'm being 'trained'?
The trouble is all the experience I've got is working as an untrained techie in an unlicensed nail bar, and the bloody local authority has just closed it down for using illegal chemicals.
The old dear behind the desk at the agency was doing her best not to sound patronising which is most likely an occupational hazard for her when she has to deal with people like me "You need to earn some money, so you need a job, right?" I nodded "As soon as possible?" Another nod "And you've got no qualifications at all?" I shrugged and she shook her head "And you've got no experience, so no references either?" Shit, it didn't sound good, did it? I might not have much going for me, okay nothing at all really, but I'm definitely not thick, I just haven't really sorted out what I want to do yet, so I explained to her about the nail bar and she looked at me over the top of her specs and muttered something about it being best not to talk about that.
She shuffled her papers about, looking for something, and I wondered whether she was holding me personally responsible for trying to burn someone's skin off with shonky chemical crap, but I'd got no idea what the hell it was I was using, I'd just done as I was told. Anyway, I was bloody lucky it hadn't burnt all the skin off my hands, I'd been using it for days without gloves before the shit hit the fan, not that it made any difference, I was still out of work and skint, flat stony broke. Not only that, but I was most likely gonna be homeless with rent arrears on top cos me flatmates were beginning to be a bit, well, arsey about it and worse I wasn't entitled to enough benefits to keep me, and I'd have to sign up for one of these courses to get anything at all, not that I had any intention of claiming anything if I could help it, and I absolutely refuse to go home with me tail between me legs and prove they was right.
I'm 21 and my life so far is total crap! This is not what I thought it would be like to be grown up.
I found the agency in one of them small ads in one of the free papers you get shoved at you outside the tube and it said it specialised in "Jobs with a Difference" which I thought probably meant escorts or lap dancers or something, which shows how desperate I am, but apparently I'm not even qualified to do that, or she never mentioned it anyhow. It seems that I am bloody qualified to be someone's cleaner, or it just might be that no-one else wants to shift all the way to Epsom to clean up after someone else for minimum wage.
I live in east London, which people talk about as being 'up and coming' and a bit 'trendy' because of the Olympics 'n that a couple of years ago, and also cos it's the closest you can get to proper London cos no-one can afford to live there anymore, well, apart from them Russians and Chinese, so Hackney and east Ham and Stokie, Stoke Newington, are suddenly 'cool'. To be fair, Stratford isn't bad, you know, where the Olympics were, but the rest is not cool, it's a total shithole and I'd love to live somewhere else, just not sure about Epsom. To be honest, I'm not even sure where it is except that they have horse racing there so there's lots of trees which give me the willies, I know cos it's been on tele sometimes.
"He's a soldier, an officer, needs a bit of help around the house while he's recovering, got himself hurt in Iraq or Afghanistan or somewhere out there" She pulled out a card and started reading "It's temporary, just for a few weeks, a couple of months at the most, his mother called it in, she can't spare the time to help because she's far too busy apparently, well that's what she said, sounded like it was beneath her actually, very posh" Her professional manner was just beginning to unravel a bit as she remembered now how the mother had got well up her nose.
I had to ask her whether there was any nursing, because nursing, like cleaning, is another thing I don't do, although it's something I've thought about trying, but when I checked it out it seems that I don't have the exams you have to have. The only job I'd get would be as a ward maid or a cleaner and that would definitely be cleaning up puke and blood and worse, so thanks but no thanks, because then I'd be the one who'd need the sick bowl.
"No, I believe they've got a nurse goes in, it's just keeping the place clean and doing the shopping and a bit of cooking, can you cook?"
Another shrug, it really depends what you call cooking, I can do pasta and I can open a jar of sauce with the best of them, and I'm ace at heating things up in a microwave, or even an oven, but I can't actually lie and pretend I'm Nigella, so I give her a little smile and the woman, who can probably see straight through me, smiled back and changed the subject quickly.
"It's just important that someone's there at night in case of, you know, an emergency or something, he's in a wheelchair at the moment" She paused and shrugged then tried to pack as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, I think she could see that I wasn't that keen "and the pay's good, it's above minimum wage and it would tide you over for a bit"
-OG-
"You're a lot younger than I expected" Mrs James looked at me a bit dubious as I sat in front of her and I'm not sure that she thought that me jeans 'n 'T' shirt were the right sort of stuff for an interview, but it's for a cleaner for fuck's sake "Have you had any experience as a housekeeper? The agency didn't say"
Housekeeper? Shit, that bloody woman at the agency never mentioned the word housekeeper, did she?
"Not as such, but I come from a big family and me mum works, so I've had tons of experience cleaning and tidying and looking after … stuff …..'n that"
Why the fuck I was trying to make this woman like me and want to employ me I hadn't got a scoobie, from the first minute I'd walked into that room and clapped eyes on her I'd decided that hell would freeze over before I'd want to come and work here, even temporary. She's most likely a very nice lady, she seems nice enough, but she behaves like someone Nan would call a bleeding Duchess and her voice is so posh it sounds like she's faking it, like she's putting it on. She asked me about me references so I told her that I haven't got a record, which is true, and then gave her me sad tale about the nail place going out of business but I never mentioned the chemicals or the environmental health lot, just kept me gob shut cos I remember how the agency seemed to think I had something to do with all that shit. Anyhow, none of it really mattered because I was getting me gob ready with me 'thanks but no thanks' speech.
She'd showed me round the place, very nice and already dead clean and tidy, don't look like it needs a cleaner anyhow and she told me a bit about her son getting shot and how he's gonna go to that Headley Court place what they talk about on the tele, and what's just down the road, but his wounds have got to heal up a bit first before he can start all that physio stuff. He was in hospital in Birmingham but wanted to get out and he didn't actually need to be there anymore, apparently, and then she said as how their house in Bath is no good for someone who needs a wheelchair, hundreds of stairs, so he's living here for a bit. A nurse comes in every day and checks him over and does his dressings 'n that, but he needs help to keep stuff clean and do the shopping and whatever.
The future father of my children just wheeled himself in through the door, well maybe not, I don't know where he got wounded, nobody said. I couldn't help grinning a bit cos, you know, as long as he's okay, if you know what I mean, I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crisps, or for anything else for that matter, even though he didn't seem to look at me in quite the same way for some reason, more like I was something he'd just scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
"Mum, a word" Another posh voice, although he didn't sound like he was faking it he just sounded dead sexy, well, I might have been a tiny bit biased, as he sort of moved his head to get his mother to follow him out of the room without even so much as nodding at me, he obviously wants a chat without me being able to hear. Rude sod.
It was then I decided to bin the 'no thanks' speech, that's if they're dumb enough to offer me the job, who the bloody hell does he think he is, looking down his nose at me like that? And it is only temporary, so it'll give me some time to think what I'm gonna do next.
-OG-
My mother has been really good, I'd be the first to recognise and thank her for it, she spent weeks up in Birmingham, putting her own life on hold while she sat by my bedside and held my hand during those first horrendous days and nights, and then when I started to recover, she spent hours on the internet and traipsing around Epsom looking to find me somewhere to live until I go into Headley.
This place is perfect, ground floor, nice wide doorways for a wheelchair, grab handles already installed in the shower and next to the loo, looks as though it's been adapted already for someone with a disability, not that I'm disabled, the bloody useless shaky legs and the wheelchair are just temporary, just a matter of time, thank God. It's also not far from the town centre so getting a cab to go anywhere is easy, although I haven't ventured out to a pub or anything as yet, I'm waiting for a bit more fitness to come back before I do that, and, to be honest, even the thought is a bit exhausting at the moment, but the one thing I don't need is a nanny!
I already have an agency nurse comes in every morning, helps me shower and does my dressings and I know mum said she would pay for her to come again in the evenings, but I'm not having that, although I have promised that I'll say if I need more help. I've already told her that a 'daily' coming in a couple of mornings a week to run the vacuum round and do a bit of ironing or shopping will be plenty, some nice, motherly older woman probably, not a bloody teenager who looks as if she'll be about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, especially not one who was giggling as though she found something very amusing.
Mum invariably gets her own way, so how come when I'm talking about her to the lads I always refer to her as 'my mummy' as though she's some sweet little white-haired old lady with a walking frame and a hearing aid, when in actual fact she's the most manipulative woman you could ever wish to meet, how my dad has survived all these years is beyond me. She calmly told me that she's already offered 'chocolate fireguard' the job, on a month's trial to start with, but if I really don't want a stranger living in, she'll see whether Rebecca can come and stay with me until I'm fully mobile. As my mother, she doesn't think she can cope with the worry of me being alone in the place at night in case there's a fire or something, and if Rebecca can't do it for some reason, she'll have to come and stay here herself.
She knows that Rebecca would jump at the chance to get her feet back under my table, and that it would have me running screaming for the hills, if I could run that is, well if I was being honest, both of those options would do that, so it'd seem that 'chocolate fireguard' has just scored herself a job, albeit a very temporary one if I've got anything to do with it.
-OG-
"My mother tells me that she's offered you a month's trial, is that right?"
Did she? I must have missed that, I don't remember her saying anything like that at all, but I'm not gonna tell him am I?
"Yeah, if that's alright with you?"
Oh God, not only does she look as though she won't be any use to anyone, but she's got a voice that sets my teeth on edge, it's like someone running their nails down a blackboard. I mean, she's obviously a Londoner, a cockney, and she's quite pretty, so why the hell would someone as young as her want to bury themselves so far from home with someone like me, where there's nothing to do and nowhere to go, well not the sort of place she's used to I'll bet, so this trial will probably be over almost before it starts. I'll give her a week before she runs off screaming.
"Right, its Molly isn't it?" I'll have to give her a key so that she can let herself in when she gets back with her stuff, there's no way I'm going to be waiting up with a cup of tea or anything, I'll start as I mean to go on, although I don't think she'll be here that long "Let yourself in when you get back, my mother showed you the room, yes?" she nodded "Help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen and I'll see you tomorrow"
"Yes Boss" I don't know what the fuck I'm s'posed to call him, no-one told me his name and I don't call anyone Sir, so boss will have to pretty much cover it, and what does he mean, see you tomorrow? How long does he think it'll take me to get me stuff? It's not like I'll need to get a van or nothing for my few bits, and what about tea tonight, am I s'posed to cook it or what?
Jesus, he's a miserable looking bugger, maybe his wounds hurt?
-OG-
A/N: I am going to update "You don't have to say you love me" it's sort of half-written but I was struggling a bit with where I wanted to take them, so I took a bit of a break and wrote this which I hope you enjoy reading as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Please review for me.