Nora by Charles J Harwood Chapter 28.3
Nancy placed Vince’s plate of
leftover bangers and mash onto the trolley. Several pieces of sky had been
affixed to Big Ben, she noticed. ‘How goes the Sudoku?’ she asked not wanting
the subject of Henry to come up. Vince, legs prone on the couch and in his
dressing gown, knit his jaw. Her collar felt tight. ‘I don’t know why you
didn’t make that call but I want to make it clear you have done me no favours.’
His
eyes drifted her way.
‘And
I don’t want forgiveness to come into it. It is more a question of choice.
That’s why I returned your phone.’
Shadows
gathered beneath his eyes.
‘Whether
you decide to make that call or not doesn’t matter to me in the least. You
won’t get a thanks and I won’t feel obliged. I just want to make that clear.’
Vince
nodded slowly. ‘Sure Nora.’
Piqued,
she grabbed the cloth and gave it a brisk flick. In a slow blink, his eyes made
a descent for her skirt. Nancy grabbed the trolley handle ready to wheel out
when a slam echoed in the foyer. A ruckus filled the entryway. The buzz hadn’t
sounded, she noticed. Before Nancy understood what this meant, the drawing room
door clicked open and Amy popped her head through the gap. The subdued light
picked out the glitter on her cheeks and cherry lips did a beam without
reaching her eyes. They appraised the room, deftly omitting Nancy’s existence.
‘Vince.’ Off-duty, she dropped the formality.
Amy
entered the room admitting a tall square man, swarthy of skin and sly of eyes.
Vince’s wheelchair loaded with wine bottles preceded him. ‘Hey, Vince,’ he
drolled in a mellow Hispanic brogue. ‘Someone left your wheelchair out in the
rain.’
Without
delay, the square man in the square leather jacket wheeled the thing next to
the fireplace. Bottles clinked as the wheels ticked. Two other women filed in
behind Amy. The room filled with a roiling mix of perfume in competition:
lavender, aloe era, coconut and a leathery undercurrent. Like Bex, both women
wore garments top-heavy but garnered from Oxford Street or Selfridges instead
of Top Shop. The tall blonde loped in as a stork in shiny tights, her saffron locks
spread-eagled over her sable scarf. Her brunette friend snorted into her hand
from a passing joke. Shorter and buxom, her cleavage heaved beneath bead
necklaces. She chinked her way in to occupy the couch beneath the window. The
square man’s jacket rode up at the back as he gathered two bottles and hemmed
them into the crook of an arm. He turned to appraise Vince beneath weighty
eyelids. ‘It’s good to see you outta bed, Vince. Amy’s been tellin’ me you’ve
been mopin’ around readin’ poetry in your slippers. She said we oughtta do
somethin’.’
Vince’s
face inclined to the square man. A grin stretched his lips, his gaze steadied
as though beholding the sun. ‘Marcus,’ he grunted. ‘Good to see you.’ He
extended an arm. Marcus connected his free hand with Vince in a hearty slap.
Nancy’s fingers idled against the trolley handle.
The
blonde drifted past and folded her coltish form into the armchair next to
Vince. ‘I hope you don’t mind us dropping by, Mr. Jonas,’ she breezed. Amy’s
sequined trousers whispered above her sandals as she stepped towards Marcus and
rested her hand upon his lapel. Next to her trolley, Nancy felt suddenly like
an oak tree amongst willows. A bottle uncorked with a snap. Marcus immersed his
nose in the vapors. ‘Lisa, go get some glasses.’ His sly eyes brushed against
Nancy as the brunette exited the room. Such heavy lids permitted no other
expression. Nancy believed slyness not his intention in that look. ‘Who’s the
company,’ he asked as he placed the bottle back on the wheelchair.
Amy
reveled in her flat tone. ‘This is Nora, Vince’s nurse.’
Marcus’
eyes came back to Nancy. ‘Oh.’
Nancy
noticed his calf encroaching upon the jigsaw. She didn’t like his square frame
and leathery smell overpowering the room. ‘Mr. Jonas shouldn’t be drinking
alcohol,’ Nancy said stiffly. ‘He’s on antibiotics.’
Marcus’
expression didn’t change yet his eyelids gathered weight. ‘I think we need to
get a little balance on the abstinence front, what do you reckon, Vince?’
Vince
didn’t answer. A game of footsie with the blonde stole that smile beholding the
sun.
‘I
think that settles it,’ Marcus closed. ‘Nora, you can join the party if you
like but I suspect you’ve had a pretty long shift and you’d like to get goin’.’
Amy
betrayed no smirk or eye contact with Nancy yet gratification permeated that
expression. Lisa clinked her way back in, the flute of several wine glasses
between fingers. Marcus unburdened her and arranged the glasses on top of Big
Ben. He lifted the bottle. Honey liquid fizzed within each glass. Lisa’s
ripple, airy and light could have been the audible equivalent.
