Page 39 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘Shouldn’t be allowed,’ Violet mutters in Brian’s direction, while keeping her eyes narrowed at Amina’s sons. ‘Think they can get away with anything. Says three visitors on that sign, clear as day, but these people think they can do as they please.’
‘It’s disgusting,’ Brian says.
‘Gadding about, disturbing everyone’s peace.’
‘It’s a disgrace.’
‘See this is why I needed my own room. They don’t care about getting us better, really, not when they let hundreds of people come in with no thought for the ill people in here.’
Violet coughs and then explodes into a frenzy of coughing, leaving her gasping for breath and blue around the edges. She bends over, her shoulders heaving, and Brian strokes her back. ‘It’s okay, dear. Calm down. Shh.’
But Violet is riled. She points to Amina with a wavering index finger, her lips quivering with outrage. ‘That’s what happens when she has all those people over. That’s what it makes me do, Brian! It’s intolerable!’
‘Intolerable,’ Brian says.
‘And they all talk in that foreign Indian language and all. No respect.’
Amina and her family are talking quietly, as they always do, but they can’t help but hear her accusations. I wonder what it is like to be so accused when you have done nothing wrong, and suspect Amina knows only too well. Her glance shifts towards Violet for a second, and then over to me, and I lift my eyebrows at her and smile gently, rolling my eyes in Violet’s direction. Urdu, Aminasaid to Kat when she asked about her mother tongue. She and Bilal whisper together in Urdu, but the boys prefer to speak English, even though they are all bilingual. One of them, their eldest, he can speak five languages, he has a flair for them, she told us with pride shining from her eyes.
‘They give me no peace,’ Violet says, her voice a pitiful rasp now, choked up with tears and the edges of her coughing fit.
‘Disgraceful,’ Brian says, and I think to myself that I have never seen anything less disgraceful than Amina’s caring, gentle family.
‘Nurse!’ Violet cries out, as Ernesto comes into the ward with the obs trolley. ‘Nurse!’
Ernesto sighs dramatically and wanders over to Violet, swaying his hips as Jodie gives a low whistle. ‘What is it, Violet?’
‘Give me some painkillers.’
Ernesto casts a sardonic glance back at Jodie. ‘I’ll ask the nurse to come and see you, Violet. Are you in pain?’
‘Of course I’m in pain, you silly little man. Why did you think I was asking for painkillers? I’m in pain because people keep giving me a headache.’
‘I’ll ask the nurse. But it could be a while, they’re just on changeover.’ Ernesto whirls round with the trolley and slaloms it over to Jodie. ‘Time for a blood pressure check, young lady.’
‘No one cares in this place,’ Violet says loudly. ‘They all think they have better things to do with their time than get some pills for a lady in pain.’
‘Well, I think they do an amazing job,’ Kat says. She’s sitting up on her bed with Nate balanced on the edge, both leaning forward, listening in raptly to the exchange.
‘Huh,’ Violet says.
Brian says, ‘They’re adisgrace.’
There’s a clamour at the door as several women come into the ward shedding wet coats and grabbing chairs. ‘Kat!’ one of them says. ‘Good to see you out of bed!’
Kat has visitors all the time, different people every day, old and young, men and women. Her congregation, I suppose. They come armed with biscuits and grapes and chocolate and a whole lot of love, and I envy her community. The four women grab themselves chairs and draw them up to Kat’s bed, eager with news and chatter and life. One of them takes out a soft knitted shawl, all the shades of purple, and presents it to Kat with a kiss on the cheek. ‘We made this for you in the knitting group,’ the woman says, flushing slightly. ‘It’s for you to feel our love. And our prayers.’
Kat has tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you.’ She drapes the shawl around her shoulders, still managing to look edgy and eye-catching, as she always does, even in checked pyjamas. The tears spill down her cheeks and one of the women passes her a tissue.
‘We love you,’ the woman says.
I want to cry, too, but don’t know how to.
Chapter 12
‘Miss Fielding?’
Someone is tugging at my arm, gently but insistently. ‘Miss Fielding, I just need to take you for a bronchoscopy.’
