Emotionally Weird(81)

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ Chick said, slowing down as a group of people spilled into the road. ‘Fucking students.’ Catching sight of Maisie in the rear-view mirror, he added, ‘excuse my French.’

‘I’ve heard worse,’ she said phlegmatically. ‘Look – there’s Dad,’ she exclaimed, pointing at a figure standing on the grass outside the Students’ union  . ‘Dad’ turned out to be Roger Lake – fired up, in oratorical mode, shouting and gesticulating for the benefit of a small group of students.

If Maisie carried on much longer with this charade she would forget who she was. ‘He’s not actually your father,’ I reminded her.

‘Really?’ Professor Cousins said to her. ‘And yet you look so much like him.’

Professor Cousins clambered out of the car and snailed towards the Tower. It was at that moment that I noticed an ambulance was parked up ahead, obstructing the road, and adding to a general sense of drama around the environs of the university. Chick started hooting the Cortina’s horn impatiently. An ambulanceman glared angrily at him and mouthed something I couldn’t understand, although the gesture he made seemed clear enough. He was helping his partner to load their cargo – a seemingly unconscious body, strapped on a stretcher.

‘Oh look, it’s Spotty Dick,’ Maisie said excitedly. ‘Do you think he’s dead?’

I craned my neck to get a better view – she was right, it was Dr Dick on the stretcher. His carcass was wrapped in a red blanket that made him look even paler than usual, did indeed make him look rather dead. I got out of the car and went over to his limp form. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked him.

‘Do you know him?’ one of the ambulancemen asked.

‘Sort of,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘What happened to him? Was he injured in the demonstration?’

‘What demonstration?’ the ambulanceman said, looking round. He spotted the banner and read out, ‘ The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of destruction – what does that mean?’

The ambulanceman, although quite short, was young and had sandy hair and kind eyes and the capable manner of all men in uniform.

‘What does anything mean?’ I said, smiling at him. He smiled back.

‘Excuse me,’ Dr Dick said, struggling into a sitting position, ‘am I going to expire here in the street while you flirt with this . . .’ he struggled to find the right word, ‘this girl ?’

The ambulanceman looked at Dr Dick and said mildly, ‘You seem lively enough for someone who’s expiring.’

‘A very professional diagnosis,’ Dr Dick said sulkily, flopping back onto the stretcher.

‘What happened to you?’ I asked him again. ‘Were you caught up in the protest?’

Dr Dick squinted at me unattractively. One of the lenses in his little academic spectacles had acquired a crack, giving him an oddly glaikit look. His eyelashes were pale and rather stubbly, like those of a pig. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. He seemed reluctant, however, to explain how he had ended up on the stretcher and it was the ambulanceman who finally told me that Dr Dick had slipped on an icy pavement and cracked his ankle bone. He grimaced, although I wasn’t sure whether this was from the pain in his ankle or the unheroic nature of his injury.

~ Icy? Nora queries. It was raining a minute ago.

‘You’re not the only one who can control the weather.’

‘Nothing to be ashamed of,’ the ambulanceman said. ‘Casualty’s full of old wifies who’ve done the same thing.’

‘Thanks,’ Dr Dick said. He motioned me closer to him and hissed in my ear, ‘I think I was pushed. I think someone tried to kill me.’

‘Pushed off a pavement?’ I repeated incredulously. ‘Wouldn’t they have pushed you off something higher if they’d wanted to kill you?’

‘Hop in,’ the ambulanceman said to me. I hesitated.

‘Do. Please,’ Dr Dick said weakly.

I was trying to think of a good reason (although really I had several) not to go in the ambulance when Chick suddenly drove off in a great crashing of gears, hooting noisily as he overtook the ambulance.

‘What a tube,’ the ambulanceman said.

Maisie waved cheerfully at me as the car sped by. I recalled the image of the yellow dog being driven away in much the same manner and wondered what the chances were of Maisie arriving home.

‘Thank you,’ Dr Dick murmured to me, ‘you’re a good girl.’

In the DRI we took some time at reception, mainly because Dr Dick couldn’t think of who to put down as his next-of-kin. It seemed to be a toss-up between his ex-wife Moira and myself and despite my protestations that I wasn’t related to him in any way he finally chose me. Also at the reception desk was a Spanish-looking woman with a nail stuck in her hand. When I glanced at the form she was filling in I saw that in the space where it said ‘next-of-kin’ she was writing ‘Jesus’. Perhaps she was a friend of Janice Rand. She gave Jesus a surname (Barcellos) which, to my knowledge, was more than anyone else ever had.