Chapter 5 ~ Repercussions
The same word floated around and around Maria's mind as she lay in bed. Whoa. She hadn't kissed anyone before, not properly, anyway. She didn't think that Henry George counted, seeing as they had been very, very drunk at the time. Last night re-played itself over and over again. They had held that kiss for minutes, and when, eventually, they broke apart, they had stared into each other's eyes, like they had done before, and Maria had desperately wanted to kiss Becker again. She didn't. She had turned and gone to bed, the distance seeming to double with each step. Now, she lay in bed, re-living the moment and allowed a smile to creep over her lips. Daylight was threatening to end the perfect night and she wasn't tired anymore, so she got out of bed, dressed and found a pen and paper, attempting a reply to Seb's last letter. She reminded him that she didn't, in fact, have a pistol, and told him the general goings-on. She left out Becker.
She signed off when Lou came stumbling into her office, plaster removed.
"What the heck did I do last night?"
"You fell out of bed onto your filing cabinet,"
"Oh. And found a plaster, all without waking up?"
"It was rather amusing," Lou glowered at her before traipsing back into his own office. He emerged a few minutes later, dressed and hair-brushed, humming his way into the ward. Williams poked his head around the entrance
"He's cheerful this morning,"
"Strangely so, yes, considering that he managed to smack his nose on a table last night without waking up," Williams laughed before following Lou. He was dressed in his formal uniform and was expecting Colonel Richards to turn up in an hour or two to get him. Knowing the Colonel, Williams would still be there at lunch time. Maria sighed and prised herself off her chair, lacing up her Converses. She made her way to the ward, where she was greeted by a loud
"Bugger!" and a laugh from Williams and Becker. Lou had tripped over a floorboard again, and was busy trying to stamp it back down. What he failed to realise was that he was stamping on the wrong bit of floor.
"Lou, try stamping there,"
"Hm? Oh. Can you get those two to shut up, they're taking the piss out of me for something that I can't even remember doing,"
"How old are you, four? I'm not your mother," Lou glared at Maria again and, finally beating the floor into submission, left the ward, sulking. Maria was just opening her mouth to say something when he came charging back in again.
"Richards is here!" he yelled, before the man himself came striding into the room. He looked his usual self, moustached, stick-in-hand, and looked expectantly at their surprised faces. He was early. A whole hour and three-quarters early. That never happened.
"You're early, Sir," Williams said. Richards waved his non-stick-holding hand dismissively.
"No I'm not, you received the wrong memo," he said matter-of-factly. They hadn't received the wrong memo; Richards just didn't want to admit to getting the timings wrong. "Are we ready, Williams, or do I have to wait in the car?"
"Ready, Sir!" Richards nodded and went out to the car anyway. Williams made his goodbyes, shook hands with Lou, clapped Becker on the shoulder and gave Maria a hug. Then he picked up his holdall and left.
The ward was in silence for a few seconds.
"Did I tell you how much I hate that guy?" Lou piped up.
"Yes," Maria and Becker said at the same time. There was an almighty crash.
"Sounds like mail's here," Lou said, running out. He came back in again moments later and dumped a well-stuffed brown envelope on Maria's lap; Frisbee'd a letter at Becker, missed, picked it up and tried again with better luck, before sitting down with his own. They lapsed into silence again.
"Hmm, this day keeps getting better and better," Maria said at last.
"Oh?"
"My dad snuffed it last week," she said, turning the page she was reading over.
"Really? What happened?"
"Chain smoking, a dare apparently," this seemed to amuse Lou to no end, and he fell off his bed in fits of laughter. Maria began to whistle along to Bernard Cribbins' "When I'm Sixty Four" playing off the stereo in the corner, still reading.
"Most people," Becker said quietly, "are upset when their parents die," Maria waited for Lou to quieten down before answering.
"Yes, and I should be, except that I cannot name a single person I hate more than my father. Even if I tried, I doubt I could find anyone, and that, Ryan, is why I really don't give a damn. In fact, I think my mood just lifted enormously," a grin broke out over her face and she returned to the letter in her hand, chuckling quietly to herself. Becker started to wonder if she was slightly mad. Lou jumped up suddenly.
"Who got the house?" he asked expectantly. Without looking up, Maria handed him the rest of the contents of the envelope. Lou scanned it and burst into fits again, showing Maria one page. She read it, read it again, and swore.
"Excuse me, Ladies, I have to make a phone call," she said, walking into her office in a bit of a trance. There was another eerie silence as Lou read the rest of the pile of papers in his hand.
"What was that all about?" Becker asked.
"Oh, Maria hates her dad," Lou said absent-mindedly
"Yeah, I got that. Why, though?"
"Uhh, she's probably better at telling you than I am,"
"You're avoiding the question,"
"Ok, fine. Maria left school at sixteen because she had three science, both English and a maths A-Level already and decided she might as well go to medical school and skip sixth form because she didn't see the point of sticking around when she had all the qualifications she needed, wanted and whatever. Her plan was foiled slightly by her dad. See, her brother left school at sixteen too, but this was because he had enough of their dad being an ass and left home entirely. Of course, if you ask him, he won't tell you that their dad was being an ass because Seb had failed all but one of his GCSEs, but that's off the point. So, yeah, Father Dearest decided that Maria could do something useful with that brain of hers and refused to let her leave. She just snuck out the window in the middle of the night. Now, Maria's dad is very good at hating people, and once Maria had completed Medical School, she went back to see him. He, however, refused to talk to her. Every time she's been back home since, he's refused to talk to her. So she gave up, decided he's being a twat and never bothered after the third time,"
"Does her dad not talk to Seb too?" Becker asked after letting this all sink in.
"Nope. That's why she hates him so much. He and Seb get on like best friends. That's what pissed her off. Her dad could get over her brother being effectively a failure, but hates Maria for doing her own thing. I don't get it either, and I probably missed out something important, but that's the general idea," Becker's eyebrows had become permanently etched on the top of his head by the time Lou finished.
"So what was so funny about that letter?"
"Oh, her dad owned the largest private fortune in England. It was mostly in his great-something grandmother's jewellery and half a million very nice cars, but he also had a huge mansion in the middle of the English countryside. Beautiful place, apparently. The funny part is that he gave half his money, the estate and all of his possessions to Maria," Impossibly, Becker's eyebrows had crept even higher up his head.
"So, he hates her and he gives her practically all his stuff?"
"Pretty much, yeah,"
"Umm... ok," Lou shrugged.
"I don't get it either, but..."
"NO SEB, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!" Becker jumped as Maria's voice came flying in.
"Don't worry," Lou said in a lighter tone, "Conversations between those two usually end like that. They usually start like that too, actually," Maria came storming back in, looking like she wanted to kill someone.
"That bad, huh?" Lou asked
"Complete ignoramus, has already told half the family that I will be attending the funeral, even though he knew full well I won't, goes on for twenty minutes on the "he-gave-you-all-that-stuff-you-have-to-turn-up" lecture, and then..."
"Maria?"
"What?"
"Calm," Lou said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Maria took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"Sorry about that," she said, shaking her head slightly, "I don't know what I did to deserve such a crap family, I really don't," She sat down heavily on a bed, staring blankly at a crease in the wall.
"You still haven't done his bandages yet," Lou pointed out a few hours and an amusing lunch break later, jerking his head towards Becker. Maria slapped a hand to her head.
"Knew there was something I'd forgotten," she mumbled. Her foul mood hadn't entirely lifted. She rummaged around in one of the many cupboards that sat on each other by the door and emerged with a roll of bandages in one hand and a pair of scissors in another.
"Shirt," she said to Becker, who obediently pulled his t-shirt off and rolled over onto his front, cupping his chin between his hands. Maria unrolled the bandages already on his back, revealing the long pink scar that stretched from the base of his neck to the small of his back in an arrow-straight line, broken every centimetre by a long black thread.
"Ooh, yay, I can take that out now," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "If it hurts, say ow," she said to Becker and cut the knot off one end of the thread. It slid out easily and Becker shuddered.
"That felt weird," he said. Maria smiled, remembering the time she had stitches and the feeling that made her skin crawl when they'd been taken out.
"I'm gonna put bandages on again, but I'll take them off tomorrow, ok?" Becker frowned. He didn't like not being able to move his upper arms. It made him feel like an Egyptian Mummy. Maria laughed at his expression.
"You looked just like my nephew for a second there," she mused.
Later, when all was quiet and dark and everyone was supposed to be asleep, Becker woke from another strange dream about dogs. He wasn't sure if it was the dream that had woken him up, or the fact that his new bandages were really, really itchy. He shuffled a little bit, trying to make himself comfortable again, when he noticed the light was on. Maria was on the same bed she had been on the night before, reading another magazine. Deja Vu flashed in Becker's mind. As he watched, a single tear slowly made its unwelcome way down the side of Maria's face. She made no effort to wipe it away, just let it roll down and onto the shiny page she was reading. She stared at it for a few seconds, before sighing and turning the page. Another tear followed the first.
"So you do care, then," Becker said softly. Maria sighed again and looked up.
"I don't know, Ryan, I really don't know. I'm not too fussed that he's dead, I just wish I could've made up with him," Her voice broke and she closed her eyes as more tears flowed down her face. She looked fragile like that. Like she would break if she so much as moved, and Becker debated with himself if getting up and putting an arm around her would be worth the damage he could do to himself if he did. He settled for the next best thing, and shifted to the far end of his bed, patting the free space. She got up and, kicking off her Converses, sat down next to him, burying her face into his neck. He held her there and felt the warm tears falling down and soaking into his bandages. After a minute, Maria wriggled out of his grip and wiped her face with the sleeve of her cardigan. Their eyes met again, hers full of sadness, his concern, and Becker kissed her. Softly, not like last time. He still felt that if he pressed too hard, she would shatter. She wrapped one hand around his neck and pressed the other into his chest, feeling the muscles beneath it. They broke apart and Maria slid down so that she was lying next to him. Becker did the same, and she snuggled against his chest, eyes closed. He didn't sleep again that night, but lay awake listening to Maria's steady breathing and let his imagination play its cruel games with him.