Part 2 - The Two Sisters

Tottenham, London, England.

Marcia stood near the passage and just stared at him. With his head nestled against the soft pillow, facing the glazed windows, it felt as if her heart had suspended a beat for just a second. The white stubble on his chin provided a sharp contrast against the deep hue of his skin; and his once huge torso, made room for the tremulous rise and fall of his chest. She made a move towards him but stopped in her tracks, when she looked over her shoulder, to see the Doctor cast a cursory glance as he walked past to his next destination. Maybe he was going to deliver news in a similar style, to some other poor patient. What did he care, she thought. Having just left his office and the speed in which he dispensed the shocking news, left her stunned. Marcia shifted her focus suddenly, to the abrupt opening of a curtain near a bed at the far side of the room. The patient laid on his back as the nurse smoothed over the duvet making sure he was comfortable. She then placed the assortment of cables belonging to the blood pressure machine onto the trolley and wheeled it away. Marcia ventured forward to the bed where her father was, and placed a kiss on his forehead.
‘Dad? Hi! How are you?’ She placed her hand on top of his. ‘How are you feeling?’ He made a small noise, and looked at her as if he had never seen her before. She smiled.
‘Huh! You take so long. Where you been?’
‘Dad, you’ve been asleep for several hours. I went to Marks and Sparks to get you some things….’ She lifted and laid the small suitcase on the wing back chair; removed the new items and displayed them to him, one by one. Still wearing a smile on her face, Marcia felt some level of satisfaction even though he was not paying attention.
‘Ya na need to get me all that! You could have just bought some things from home!’ Marcia raised an eyebrow and placed the items in the nearby cupboard. She closed its doors with both hands, and paused.
‘..Dad, I’ve spoken to the Doctor…’ Marcia felt her voice fizzle into a thin hiss and quickly cleared her throat. ‘..He told me about the scan they did several weeks ago - and they’ve just got the results. He said the pain – the reason why you’re here - is as a result of the ….’
‘Cancer? A whole heap a nonsense! Once me get out of this place, you can go to West Green Road to the West Indian shop. Get me some of that bitter leaf medicine your grandparents used to take back home. It’ll soon sort out the problem.’
‘Dad, the results were confirmed. And..and they know what they are talking about. We have to try and work with them…it’s only by doing that, it will make sure you recover…’ She answered tentatively knowing perfectly well that her last remark was incorrect. According to the Doctor, he had less than a year to live. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as she considered the enormity of that thought. Moving closer to the bed, wondering how she would cope, she placed both hands on his arm and looked at his worried face.
‘Dad, you’ve eaten?’
‘Jus some scrambled egg with baked beans but me still hungry..’
Marcia looked at her watch. It was past midday. ‘There’s a Caribbean not far away. Want me to get you some ‘Jerk’?’ He raised himself slightly and turned to face his daughter.
‘Where’s Judith? She here?’
‘I’m sure she is.’ Oh damn, she thought. Judith’s London number was stored in her other phone, which she left at home. ‘You’ll see her, don’t worry.’
‘You sure she gon come?’
‘Positive.’ Marcia answered, not meeting his eyes. Why should she be irritated, she asked herself, when she knew it was a matter of time before her father would call her sister’s name.
Her father pulled the duvet on himself, disappearing deeper into the bed until just the mass of grey hair on top of his head was visible. Marcia removed the case from the chair and placed it under the bed. She tried to raise other topics. She said something about the electricity bill, and moved onto her considering taking a teaching job in another school. But it had no effect. Her father was lost in thought. She wondered if he were worried that Judith would not make it or just in denial about his health. Knowing perfectly well the answer, her eyes glazed over as she could feel the slow burn of her anger surface. She took a deep breath and continued to talk, whether he was listening or not. As he was engrossed in his thoughts, Marcia glanced around the ward. A room made up of six beds: two of which were empty, the other two had patients who were asleep and another had an Asian man lying opposite. He showed too much interest for Marcia’s liking. But she realized she had said too much, and under normal circumstances she would have been aware. But not now. She was upset, angry and frustrated, to care.
‘Has Kendrick been to the house while I’ve been here?’ Her father asked still gazing out the window. Marcia surprised at the question, raised her eyes to see the Asian man still watching.
‘Like I said, you’ve been here more or less a day, but no, Kendrick hasn’t been to the house.’ Marcia answered lightly. She wondered if she should continue with what she was saying, or change the subject, quickly.
’Ahhm, I did speak to him though, and told him you were here. He says to say ‘hello’ and hopes you get better soon. Of course, I didn’t say anything about…..’
‘Really? I’m sure he would rather me dead then for me to be better.’
Marcia collapsed her arms over the armrest and shook her head. ‘Oh Dad, how could you say something like that? Of course he wouldn’t think that!’ Her father turned as she leaned to pull the case from the under the bed. She knew what was coming next.
‘A married man that! I no know why you cyan’t find somebody more suitable.’ The Asian man shifted his eyes to his duvet, as if he was now party to what he was hearing. But how could she be embarrassed? It was usual, when it came to her father to let you know what he thought, regardless of place and time. Well, she was used to it. She slowly stood up, and drew the telescopic handle from the case. Her father stopped in mid sentence.
‘You are goin’ already?’ He asked, with a surprised tone to his voice.
‘Yep! I better, since Judith will be here, and I don’t have my other phone with me. I’ll come back later though, and bring her along.’ She noticed that he was about to put up some resistance but she kissed him hastily, uttering a number of goodbyes as she moved towards the door.
‘Mek sure you come back! With Judith and some food. You hear me?’
‘I’ll be back.’
*
Marcia sat in the car, placed the key in the ignition and relaxed in the seat. Her father. What was she to do? She looked out to the grey overcast and felt overwhelmed by its dreariness. It was damp but looked as if it could rain. She considered ways in which her father could be made to accept his situation. As she was about to switch on the engine, her mobile went. It rang with its usual annoying ring tone that she felt was long overdue for a change. Her hand ploughed into the handbag and grabbed the phone it as if it would disappear. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was an unrecognizable number. She depressed the key and placed the phone firmly to her ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Marcia it’s me!’ Said the voice she instantly recognized. A voice that was born and bred in Tottenham, but always behaved as though it had grown up in the better parts of North London. A manner which had the knack of conveying authority. On top of all that, it had something, which Marcia still could not figure out.
‘Judith…so you’re here…’ was all Marcia felt she could say.
‘It’s good to hear your voice. How are you? Where are you? Are you at the hospital?’ said Judith. Unable to genuinely match Judith’s enthusiasm, Marcia suddenly felt a shot of guilt run through her.
‘In fact, I’m just leaving.’ Marcia stopped to look at her watch. ‘I should be back at the house in the next fifteen minutes or so. I won’t be long.’ She snapped the phone shut, sensing Judith was about to ask another question.
Marcia started the engine and drove out of the car park. As she waited in a queue for the traffic light to turn green, she could see that along the Great Cambridge Road was heaving with traffic. She told herself that she would continue to drive to the next turning, do a U turn and go back to the shopping centre in Wood Green, and head for one of the coffee shops. For some reason, she always felt the need to prepare herself whenever Judith was around: have the right attitude or to give an account, or something. The lights had changed to green and Marcia sped off to her destination. Judith would just have to wait, she thought.
***
Judith snapped the mobile shut and placed it into her bag. That was the second time Marcia had switched off the phone while she was still talking. Why did she do that she asked herself, as she dragged the luggage to the front room. Not wanting to give it too much thought she decided to reacquaint herself with a home she had not seen in a while. And quickly, before the more serious issues of the day began to encroach.
One of the things that struck her when she entered the house was how it looked small and the light; she couldn’t remember it having so little light, when it was still 11.00 in the morning. There was the dark brown paint which covered all the woodwork, and the discoloured oyster pink wall paper with embossed flowers. But there was something missing. It didn’t have that sense of cheerfulness, as if apathy had now become an occupant.
She walked towards the side table with the huge doily on its top and looked at the assembled photographs. She picked one up and studied it. It was of her sister and herself when they were around five years old. Prominent in the background was Iris, an English child minder who looked after them whilst their parents were at work. Where did they dig up this photo? Judith asked herself. She hadn’t seen it in years but she immediately knew where it was taken. It was in the garden of Iris’s home on Guy Fawkes Night. A house that was next to their own home where they were born; and the first home their parents bought just three years after arriving in London.
Judith could feel herself being absorbed into an uncontrolled state of nostalgia. Her lips curled up into one of her usual smirks, as she thought of herself and Marcia; standing each day at the corner of Cunningham Road calling out Penny for the Guy to onlookers. They hadn’t done too badly by the end of the week, and with the help of their parents, they had gathered enough money. Iris said they could hold the bonfire in her garden and their mother agreed to prepare some snacks. The money was handed to Iris and they all went along to the sweet shop to choose the fireworks. Judith and Marcia were so excited and couldn’t wait for the evening to come.
But Judith’s smirk straightened into a thin line as the memory deepened. A tear was looking to escape from her eye. Just as the bonfire was taking shape, their father told his daughters and Iris to stand in front of the shed where he could take a photo. He asked his wife to join them but she said ‘not this time round’. He watched her and wondered if she was in one of her moods, then he turned to the group and asked them to smile. They obliged and stood, showing off their best grins in front of the camera.
‘Come on man! You taking so long!’ shouted their mother.
‘Yeah, get a move on. It’s blooming cold out here!’ bellowed Iris, squeezing the two girls close to her. After spending some time trying to figure where the flash was on his brand new Instamatic, he took the photo. Then out of the darkness, screamed a voice.
‘Why don’t you all go back?’ Judith could remember looking about herself to see where the voice was coming from. ‘And you, Iris…..Black Iris! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.’ It continued. Iris turned and looked up towards her neighbour’s house. The family looked in her direction. It was a woman with half of her body leaning out the window. The glow from the fire lit a part of her face. It was Mrs. Jarvis. Iris removed a matchstick from the box, placed a roman candle on the ground and lit the blue touch paper. She told everyone to stand back, and glared at Mrs. Jarvis with defiance. ‘Oi! Black Iris? You really are asking for it! I don’t want any of those ashes in my garden!’ Judith could remember Iris always having a fierce temper but her actions that evening not only showed defiance but she was fearless. When the candle had finished, Iris lighted another one, and then another until there was no more. If her shed was full of fireworks, Iris would have happily continued all night lighting fireworks, just to provoke Jarvis. Their father laughed, always seeing the funny side of things but their mother also glared at Mrs. Jarvis. Judith shuddered as she replaced the photo, wiping her hands dry as though they had just been washed. She looked at the photo as though it was a contaminant: fearing that if she held onto it any longer she would be infected by a deluge of similar memories, all demanding her attention.
Judith sauntered up the stairs with sleep wanting to take a hold. She peered through the landing window looking out onto the main road. What should she do first? She knew she had to see her father but if she went to the hospital, she was supposed to spend the whole day with him. She wanted this, and he would have expected her to do this. But she didn’t have the energy. Kingsley would expect to receive a call from her, at some point, just to let him know that she arrived. And then there was her sister. Only God knows what she would have expected. She went into what she considered to be ‘her’ bedroom. And there it was, neat and practical. The bed had clean sheets with a few towels near the pillows. There was the study table which faced the window and the old fashioned wardrobe which Iris bought many years ago. There was a new addition: a chair which was from the set of chairs in the front room. She sat down and picked a number of letters that had been sent to her. By the time she had opened the fifth envelop and removed the letter, she didn’t even reach the end as it slid from her hands onto the floor. Judith stretched her legs and snuggled into the chair telling herself she would sleep just for an hour.