Mr Lonely, page 6
Sid put his hand over the phone again. ‘And chicken Biriani to you. Hello, oh hello, are you a nurse? Good.’
He said to Carrie, ‘Sabu found a nurse.’
‘I’m trying to find out how a Miss Elspeth Lewis is. She was brought in this afternoon after falling off a horse. I’m her father and I’ve only just come in from work so I thought I’d give you a ring. The doctor said I could ring you any time. Yes. Miss Lewis. L-e-w-i-s. E-l-s-p-. No … p, as in parsnip. E-t-h. Thank you.’
He turned to Carrie, ‘She said she’ll see if there’s been any change.’
‘Hello. Oh, God. It’s Ram Sing again. I’m holding on, son. I’m holding on because the nurse you found has gone to check on my daughter for me.
‘Don’t you cry now, Carrie. We’ll soon know if …
‘I’m talking to my wife.
‘I’ve got to keep him on the phone till the nurse gets back.
‘Hello. I must say you people do a good service and er … it was very kind of you to find that nurse for me. How long have you been English? Three weeks. Oh, knockout. Do you feel any dif—? Hello, nurse. No change. She’s comfortable as can be expected and she’s asleep. Yes, thank you. Thank you very much.’
Sid put the phone back on its cradle. ‘Well, she seems to be resting.’
‘Oh, Sid, her face was a mess. She’s lost her front teeth and her nose is broken, Sid.’
‘Yes, er … well, you know, they can do wonders—dentists and doctors—nowadays and, not only that, I mean, a broken nose is nothing nowadays. Good Lord, how many doctors have broken noses. Anyway they have to break your nose before you can have a new one. Look darling, I’ll pour you a drink and maybe …’
‘No, Sid, I won’t have a drink. I’ll go to bed.’
‘Did you get anything from the doctor? At the hospital, I mean. Did he give you any downers?’
‘Any what?’
‘Downers. You know, something to make you sleep.’
‘No. Anyway, he was a black doctor.’
‘Well, even black people sleep. Anyway, you go to bed. I’ll have a drink and a little thought down here. Okay? I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning, see Elspeth, and then drive on to see my agent, pick you up on the way back, bring you home, have a kip, then go on to the club. But if you have anything else in mind, I’m quite willing to do it.’
‘No, that’s fine.’
‘Okay. Off you go to bed.’
‘Now don’t you be late, Sid. You’ll have had a hard night tonight.’
‘Yes. Well, goodnight, dear, and I know it’s silly but try to sleep and not to worry. I’m sure it will be all right.’
Carrie picked up a handful of tissues and then left the room. Sid sat completely alone for a few minutes thinking, What a night! What a bleeding, bloody, bastard of a night! He got up and, from the drinks cabinet, poured himself a large Scotch. He stood by the window, looked out, raised his glass and said, ‘Here’s to you, God. Look after my little girl, and while you’re at it, my glasses.’
CHAPTER FIVE
June, 1976
The car was parked in the space for parking cars, but cars for ‘Doctors Only’. Carrie asked Sid if it was all right parking there and going through the door marked ‘No Entry’. Sid said, ‘Yes,’ and that was that conversation shot to hell.
They walked through the ‘No Entry’ door into the hospital itself, asking the way to the reception area.
‘First left, second right, past the smell of rice pudding, along the corridor, past the sluices, through the swing doors, ask again.’
‘Certainly. Straight on and past the smell of rice pudding.’
‘No, wait a minute. If you go through these doors and into the geriatric ward, go straight through there and you can’t miss it.’
Fifteen minutes later they had found the reception desk by starting again outside and going through a door marked ‘Entrance’, much to Sid’s annoyance and Carrie’s looks of ‘I told you so’. The desk was manned by a turban-wrapped Asian gentleman. Sid and Carrie walked up to the desk and waited and waited and waited, until Sid’s patience started to run at a very low ebb.
‘Excuse me,’ Sid said to the Asian gentleman, who was sorting out some cards with deep concentration. No response.
This time a little louder. ‘Ahem, excuse me.’ Still no response from the counting, concentrating, turbanned Asian gentleman.
Sid was now smiling, but with dead eyes. It was the type of look that even frightened Carrie’s mother. ‘I’d like to see my daughter.’ The voice came from what was now a wrinkle under Sid’s nose.
‘Maternity is through that door, there,’ the Asian gentleman said without looking up. In retrospect, that was the undoing of the Asian gentleman, the fact that he never looked up.
‘She’s not in maternity, son,’ Sid said coldly. ‘She’s too old for maternity, cowboy.
‘How old is she?’ he asked Carrie.
‘Twelve.’ Carrie shivered. She didn’t like Sid when he was like this.
‘She’s twelve, little brown man, and I’d like to see her.’
Carrie said, as quickly as possible, ‘She came in last night.’
‘Lady,’ said the Asian gent, ‘I’m very busy for the next few moments, and then I’m here to help you. I’m being very helpful soon.’
‘Thank you,’ Carrie said softly.
The card-counting gentleman then said, ‘I am now finishing. Hello, hello, can I help you?’
A surprised Sid said, ‘I’d like to see my daughter, Miss Elspeth Daphne Lewis.’
‘This is not the hour for visiting.’
‘I know, but at the moment it’s the only time I can get here.’
‘I see. Now—a Miss Elizabeth Delphi Lewis.’
‘Miss Elspeth Daphne Lewis.’
The turbanned tiger started to look through another set of cards. ‘There is no one here by the name you have stated.’ He looked directly at Carrie, not once at Sid. ‘You are probably at the wrong hospital.’
‘I am not at the wrong hospital, young different-coloured sir.’ Sid spoke quietly at first, slowly building up to a small crescendo. ‘And I don’t care what anybody says. I don’t care if she’s asleep, or if the rest of the ward are on the verge of dying, I and my wife, here—this is my wife,’ he said, pointing to Carrie, ‘want, no demand, to see my daughter, Miss Elspeth Daphne Lewis.’
Sid’s voice was getting louder and Carrie was trying to get smaller.
‘Vhat you don’t seem to understand, zir,’ said the Indian or Pakistani gentleman, ‘is ve have novon who answers to the name you are saying, zir.’
‘Look, I know it’s early, and we, my wife and I, realize you have a very hard and very difficult job to do, but if I don’t see my daughter within the next, let’s say fifteen minutes, you, sir, will be very sorry you left your tin hut in Poona or wherever you came from.’
Carrie put her hand out on Sid’s arm. ‘Sid, please.’
‘Shut up,’ Sid whipped back at Carrie. ‘Look, Sabu, I want to see my daughter. Now do you understand that, you bloody Asian berk?’
‘Sid, sh.’
‘Right now. Pronto. Quick. Understandee?’ Sid stormed. ‘Because if you don’t find somebody who I can talk to in real English, you’ll be needing that bandage around your head, son. Phone someone, now.’
This rather gentle Asian gentleman was now out of his depth. He picked up the phone and asked for a nurse called Miss Miandad.
‘She’d better understand English, son,’ Sid remarked, when he heard the name Miandad.
The Asian put his hand over the mouthpiece and very proudly said, ‘She vos born here, zir. Thank you.’
A voice on the phone spoke and the Asian gentleman said, ‘Hello, hello, could I speak to a Miss … Pardon? I would like to speak to … What do you mean—who’s speaking? I am.’ He looked at Sid and Carrie, took the mouthpiece from his mouth and said, ‘There’s some Irish people on the switchboard. Hello, hello. I would … Yes, oh yes, I am understanding. My name is Haroon … No, Haroon. Yes, Haroon, from the reception. I want to speak and talk to Nurse Miandad.’
After a few seconds, in which someone at the other end had gone to find Nurse Miandad, Haroon Amarnath tried to get into polite conversation with Sid. ‘I see Chelsea lost again.’ He half smiled.
Sid looked at him as if he was mad.
‘I’m taking my vife to Vindsor at the veekend,’ Haroon continued.
Carrie said, ‘She’ll like it there. The Queen goes there sometimes. Is it her first visit?’ she asked rather slowly.
‘No, ve go every veekend because ve live in Slough. Very close, you see. Hello, hello. Ah … Nurse Miandad. Haroon. Yes, from the reception.’
Sid snatched the phone away from him, which Carrie thought hurt his feelings. After all, she thought, he goes to Windsor every weekend, which is more than we do, and we are real English.
‘Hello, look my name is Lewis. Mr Sidney Lewis, and last night my daughter, Elspeth, was—What? No, Elspeth,’ he said resignedly, ‘Elspeth Daphne Lewis.’
Sid looked at Carrie and almost smiled, ‘She’s gone to check.’ He looked at Haroon as he said, ‘I think we’ve found an intelligent one.’
Carrie put her hand out to Haroon’s and patted it. He smiled a smile of a surrendering man.
‘Good. How is she?’ Sid said into the phone. ‘Ask her if she’s …’ Sid waved his wife quiet. ‘I see. I’m her father and her mother is here with me.’ He spoke precisely and slowly, ‘Now, if you can tell me where she is we’d like to see her. I know it’s not visiting hours.’ He enunciated crisply, almost losing control, ‘But it’s the only time I can get here.’ His voice was getting louder and faster. Haroon looked nervously up, and then even more nervously down, at the cards he was trying to sort. ‘All right. All right,’ Sid seethed. ‘Whom do I get permission from? I see. From Sister Lawton. Is that Lawton as in Charles?’ he sneered. ‘Hello, hello?’
The phone was dead. Sid put it down. He was beginning to feel his age—a hundred and eight. He put his arm around Carrie, took a long, deep breath and went back into action. To a now rather bewildered Asian, who was only three inches away from this strange white man’s face, because this white man was leaning over the reception desk, he once again spoke.
‘Okay, sunbeam, how do I find Sister Lawton?’
The Asian dropped all the cards on the floor. ‘Zister Luton?’ he gulped.
‘That’s right, and if I don’t see her within the next few minutes, you, my little friend, will have eaten your last chappatti.’
‘I’m getting her on the phone for you now, right away, zir,’ he breathed. ‘Zister Luton,’ he cried into the phone. ‘It’s an emergency.’ He looked at Sid and pointed to the phone as if Sister Lawton was about to come out of it.
Sid looked unblinkingly at him.
“Allo, Zister Luton?’ Haroon’s face beamed and his black eyebrows shot up and almost disappeared under his turban. ‘For you.’ He almost shook with excitement as he handed Sid the phone. He looked at Mrs Lewis as if to say, I am being very privileged to watch the meeting of the Big Two—Zister Luton and The Wild White Man.
‘Sister Lawton?’ Sid asked, very pleasantly. ‘Good. I would like to see my daughter, Miss Elspeth Lewis. She came in yesterday evening. I’m her father, and my job, I’m afraid, won’t let me visit in the normal visiting hours. This is the only time I can make it today. I would so much like to see her. I know she’s being looked after by the best,’ he crawled, ‘but if I, as her father, could just sit with her for a few minutes before what could be my last mission, Sister Lawton. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that. I mustn’t say any more on those lines.’
Carrie looked at Sid.
Haroon looked at Sid.
‘Government work,’ Sid whispered, turning his back on both Carrie and Haroon. ‘You are more than kind,’ Sid smarmed. ‘Yes, I understand. What ward? Gandhi ward, and there will be a nurse waiting for me. Sister, thank you very much indeed. Goodbye.’
Sid put the phone down and Haroon clapped his hands together and beamed his biggest smile since leaving India or Pakistan.
‘Very good. Oh, yes, very, very good, zir.’
‘Harold …’ Sidney started.
‘Haroon.’
‘Haroon, could you tell me the way to the Gandhi ward?’
By the swing doors to Gandhi ward stood a big, very black, West Indian nurse. She wore a badge that told you her name was Coral Shivnarine.
‘Hello dear,’ she said. She gave a smile as big as Barbados itself. ‘Sister Larton toll me to wait for you.’
Sid nodded.
‘You come to see a payshant?’
Sid renodded.
‘Well, right now, arm in ma coffee break,’ she giggled. ‘But I mean, if you know what she look like you’ll find her by the far door.’ She gave them both a great big grin and waddled off.
Sid looked at Carrie and asked, ‘You okay? Do you feel up to seeing her?’
Carrie took a deep breath and very quietly said, ‘Yes.’
Just before Sid held the door open for Carrie, Nurse Shivnarine waddled back and said, ‘Sir, no longa an fiminutes.’ Sid okayed her request. She laughed again and left.
Sid and Carrie went into the ward. He took stock and very quickly came to the conclusion that at the near end of the ward were the ‘nearly betters’, in the middle part of the ward were the ‘doing all rights’ and at the far end were the ‘not so goods’. They looked down to the far end. In the last two beds, one on each side of the ward, were two patients completely wrapped in bandages—arms, legs, chest and face. Sid gripped Carrie’s arm as they walked slowly towards them, looking sideways at every other bed to make sure Elspeth was not in one of the ‘nearly betters’, or even the ‘doing all rights’ beds.
As they reached the far end one of the heavily bandaged patients seemed to move an arm in slight recognition. They both went over and looked hard at this professionally wrapped-up person. As they looked into the dark, brown eyes, Carrie thought how much like a baby seal about to be bopped over the head she looked. Carrie sat on the edge of the bed and let tears stream down her face. Sid held Carrie’s hand and slowly kept patting the top of the bandaged head.
Carrie composed herself and told the bandaged head not to worry. Grandma Lewis had sent her love, and Grannie and Boppo—Elspeth’s baby name for Poppa—sent their love and would soon send her a tin of nuts.
They had been there about five minutes when Sister Lawton came down the ward and stopped by them. She was in her blue uniform and white hat. She was also very tiny. She was four foot eleven and a half inches tall, four foot eleven and a half inches wide and four foot eleven and a half inches deep. She looked like a small blue cube, but when she walked down the ward, frightened bones rattled.
‘What are you doing here? And who are you?’ she said in a whisper so fierce that the Ayatollah would have changed his religion.
‘Oh. Hello, Sister. I’m Mr Lewis. I spoke to you on the phone about ten –’
‘Ah, yes. Mr Lewis,’ she hissed. ‘But what are you doing here? And please, don’t pat the patient’s head.’
‘I’m talking to my daughter.’
Sister gave a look that had about as much warmth as a mid-European’s smile. ‘This isn’t your daughter. Your daughter is through those doors.’ She pointed to the doors near them.
‘Oh,’ Sid said in a deflated tone.
Carrie looked at the bandaged girl and said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll send you some nuts.’
‘Follow me please, Mr Lewis,’ said Sister. ‘I suppose this is Mrs Lewis.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Sid said.
‘You never mentioned a Mrs Lewis when we spoke on the phone.’ They moved towards the door. ‘Goodbye, your highness,’ Sister said to the patient. ‘This way and you have five minutes.’
Sid gently waved to the bandaged person and Carrie smiled and gave a small curtsey. Sister opened the door for them. They saw Elspeth and learned she would be out in the next three or four days. She was not injured as badly as Carrie had thought but she would have to be looked after at home and she would continue to be an out-patient for at least another three months.
As Sid and Carrie left the hospital, Sid said to Carrie, ‘Some of these blacks do a good job.’
CHAPTER SIX
May, 1954
The theatre is at the end of the pier looking towards the sea. The stagedoor is on the right side of the theatre. If you come down a few steps from the stagedoor, you are on the planks of the pier itself. If you turn left and walk a few yards, you are in the literal sense on the end of the pier.
Every morning at about eleven o’clock Sid would walk slowly down towards the end of the pier to the theatre, to see if there was any mail at the stagedoor. Who knows me who could write? he would think as day after day he would look into his empty pigeonhole at the stagedoor office. I even have an agent who’s not on the phone.
Sid at that time was earning seventeen pounds ten shillings per week, of which ten per cent went to his agent, and six pounds fifteen shillings went to his landlady—a ninety-four-year-old woman who used to send her young, seventy-year-old daughter to do the shopping. Sid was playing straight man to an old, hard comic who, Sid thought, was about as funny as Frankenstein’s monster with a cleaver.
This comic, Ed Low—known to the rest of the profession as Big Ed Low—always finished every sketch he did by dropping his pants, or Sid’s pants, or one of the chorus girl’s pants, just before the blackout at the end of the sketch. If a chorus girl played that part in the sketch and her pants came down, she did not get any extra money from Ed Low. He would tell her she would get a present at the end of the season in September, and Ed usually kept his promise, but the poor kid never saw the present until about the middle of the following June.
Ed would be earning around two hundred pounds a week. He would be staying in digs or a very cheap boarding house. His outlay would cost around ten pounds ten shillings per week and on top of that there would be the odd extras, such as two or three sisters and at least two different wives and a few nieces. Strangely enough, no brothers ever came to see him and no nephews, either. He would drink about half a bottle of Scotch a day, plus a few beers, then in the evening he would start buying his own. His most expensive item was Sid, seventeen pounds ten shillings per week, and he used to pay him out as if he was a partner—a pound at a time—one, two, three, four and so on. Never once did he give Sid his money in bulk; always one, two, three, four, as if they both earned the same amount. Although Sid and Ed did not see eye to eye about comedy, Sid learned a lot from Ed, the most important thing being to stay solo, never to team up with anyone. There was a young double act in the show that went under the name of Court and Bold. They always seemed to be shouting at or blaming each other if things did not get a good enough laugh, and Ed never missed an opportunity to mix it between them.
