money, won’t you?’ Hol asks, wiping hair back from her brow again. ‘For the house. There’s money coming to you, isn’t there? There isn’t anybody else.’
‘Not that I know of,’ I tell her.
‘I mean, there’s the money I’ve got for you, obviously, but there’ll be more from the house. A lot more. Should be fairly serious money, I’m imagining.’
‘There will be some,’ I confirm. ‘If he leaves it to me.’
‘Good.’ She nods slowly a few times, staring at me. I feel that perhaps she didn’t really hear the second sentence. ‘Good,’ she says again, and sighs. ‘You look tired,’ she tells me. ‘You should go to bed.’
‘I can’t, until Guy’s gone. He needs me to help him get undressed and into bed and that sort of stuff.’
‘Oh.’ She seems to think about this. ‘None of us could help him, no?’
‘Hmm.’ I try to make it look as though I’m thinking about this, even though I know the answer perfectly well already. ‘Probably best not. Unless it’s me or Mrs Gunn he kind of gets upset.’
‘Huh. That’s tough.’
I shrug. ‘Thank you for the offer. This tape.’
‘Hmm?’ she says.
‘It’s not a sex tape, is it?’ I’m really hoping it isn’t.
Hol laughs. She shakes her head once, or at least moves it. ‘No,’ she says. Though it could be ‘Oh’ that she says rather than ‘No’; it’s hard to tell. She’s still slurring her words. ‘It’s … embarrassing for other reasons … Nothing to do with sex.’ She smiles at me.
‘Fucking parliament of crows, vultures,’ Guy says as I tuck him into bed. ‘Fucking circling vultures, so-called friends.’
Guy is quite drunk. His eyes, looking large in his thinned head, appear glazed and don’t seem to be focusing well, pointing in subtly different directions as if he’s become part chameleon, though without the interesting ability to blend into the background through changing skin colour.
‘You did invite them, Dad.’ I check his meds. They’re held on the upturned lid of an old biscuit tin sitting on the bedside table. Only just held; they almost overflow. He has to take quite a lot.
‘Yeah, well, nice to have some normal people in the house for a change,’ he tells me. ‘Some decent company, adults I can talk to. The bastards are only here to gloat, though, watch me suffer.’
‘Why would they do that? They must have better things to do.’ I can see the opiate capsules have gone early; they usually do.
‘Because people are vicious bastards, that’s why. They don’t all run flow charts in their heads before they decide what to say next. They’re not all fucking Dr Spocks like you.’
I think about this. ‘I think you mean Mr Spock. After the character from the original Star Trek .’
‘Fuck off. You know what I mean.’
It has taken us even longer than usual to get up the stairs this evening. Usually it takes less than two minutes, with me helping Guy and him resting on each step, but tonight it took nearly three minutes. The others offered to help – especially Pris, because she used to be a nurse and still deals with a lot of old and mobility-impaired people – but it’s not really about numbers. We have applied for a stairlift device but there’s no word of it yet. Guy reckons if it ever does get installed it’ll turn up just in time to bring his coffin down the stairs, assuming he has the good grace to die peacefully in his own bed.
‘Anyway, they’re here because they’re your friends. They’re all busy people. They didn’t have to come.’
‘All right! I heard you! Take their side, yeah, why not; just you do that. Why support me, eh? I’m just your dad.’ He looks up at me from the bed. He lies half propped up against a slope of pillows and cushions because that’s the most comfortable position for him to sleep in. He stares at me. ‘You’re all just waiting for me to die,’ he says. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Now, Dad,’ I begin, checking his water
‘Not that I know of,’ I tell her.
‘I mean, there’s the money I’ve got for you, obviously, but there’ll be more from the house. A lot more. Should be fairly serious money, I’m imagining.’
‘There will be some,’ I confirm. ‘If he leaves it to me.’
‘Good.’ She nods slowly a few times, staring at me. I feel that perhaps she didn’t really hear the second sentence. ‘Good,’ she says again, and sighs. ‘You look tired,’ she tells me. ‘You should go to bed.’
‘I can’t, until Guy’s gone. He needs me to help him get undressed and into bed and that sort of stuff.’
‘Oh.’ She seems to think about this. ‘None of us could help him, no?’
‘Hmm.’ I try to make it look as though I’m thinking about this, even though I know the answer perfectly well already. ‘Probably best not. Unless it’s me or Mrs Gunn he kind of gets upset.’
‘Huh. That’s tough.’
I shrug. ‘Thank you for the offer. This tape.’
‘Hmm?’ she says.
‘It’s not a sex tape, is it?’ I’m really hoping it isn’t.
Hol laughs. She shakes her head once, or at least moves it. ‘No,’ she says. Though it could be ‘Oh’ that she says rather than ‘No’; it’s hard to tell. She’s still slurring her words. ‘It’s … embarrassing for other reasons … Nothing to do with sex.’ She smiles at me.
‘Fucking parliament of crows, vultures,’ Guy says as I tuck him into bed. ‘Fucking circling vultures, so-called friends.’
Guy is quite drunk. His eyes, looking large in his thinned head, appear glazed and don’t seem to be focusing well, pointing in subtly different directions as if he’s become part chameleon, though without the interesting ability to blend into the background through changing skin colour.
‘You did invite them, Dad.’ I check his meds. They’re held on the upturned lid of an old biscuit tin sitting on the bedside table. Only just held; they almost overflow. He has to take quite a lot.
‘Yeah, well, nice to have some normal people in the house for a change,’ he tells me. ‘Some decent company, adults I can talk to. The bastards are only here to gloat, though, watch me suffer.’
‘Why would they do that? They must have better things to do.’ I can see the opiate capsules have gone early; they usually do.
‘Because people are vicious bastards, that’s why. They don’t all run flow charts in their heads before they decide what to say next. They’re not all fucking Dr Spocks like you.’
I think about this. ‘I think you mean Mr Spock. After the character from the original Star Trek .’
‘Fuck off. You know what I mean.’
It has taken us even longer than usual to get up the stairs this evening. Usually it takes less than two minutes, with me helping Guy and him resting on each step, but tonight it took nearly three minutes. The others offered to help – especially Pris, because she used to be a nurse and still deals with a lot of old and mobility-impaired people – but it’s not really about numbers. We have applied for a stairlift device but there’s no word of it yet. Guy reckons if it ever does get installed it’ll turn up just in time to bring his coffin down the stairs, assuming he has the good grace to die peacefully in his own bed.
‘Anyway, they’re here because they’re your friends. They’re all busy people. They didn’t have to come.’
‘All right! I heard you! Take their side, yeah, why not; just you do that. Why support me, eh? I’m just your dad.’ He looks up at me from the bed. He lies half propped up against a slope of pillows and cushions because that’s the most comfortable position for him to sleep in. He stares at me. ‘You’re all just waiting for me to die,’ he says. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Now, Dad,’ I begin, checking his water
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