An Unexpected Aftermath

Norbert

Chapter 3

An Unexpected Aftermath

I didn’t get to bed till 3am, and now I’ve woken up with an even gippier tummy, nervous about what to expect. Following a false alarm visit to the toilet before breakfast, and a watery deluge after, I root through my emergency first aid kit and take two anti diarrhoea capsules and something to settle my stomach. Hence I am running late.

As I approach the hospital’s main entrance, my already panicky bowels go into meltdown at the sight of our Security Officer, Gideon Watt-Knott, standing ramrod straight in the centre of the vestibule between the outer and inner doors.

He strides forward a pace to activate the automatic doors for the woman in front of me. She flashes her ID badge and continues through, activating the inner doors herself. Seeing me, Gideon steps back and allows the outer doors to close. ‘Grannytickler,’ I say under my breath and keep walking, headfirst into the door.

Through skew-whiff spare spectacles and watering eyes I see the twirly ends of his moustache twitch in a smile. He presses a button on the gadget in his hand to open the doors.

‘Morning, Norbert,’ he barks, jovially. ‘Because you’re so small, I don’t think the sensor picked you up.’

‘Is that what it was?’ I reply through gritted teeth.

A military hand stops me in my tracks. ‘Whoa there, not so fast. I need to see your ID.’

‘It’s on my desk. I always leave it in the lab to avoid being asked for directions.’ I become animated. ‘What is the point of painting lines on the floor if the only people that use them are colour blind widows?’

I attempt to sidestep him, but he bangs me on the head with a clipboard.

‘I shouldn’t need to remind you that an ID badge identifies you as a bonaparte member of staff and must be on prominent display about your persona at all times within the hospital grounds...’ (This, apart from his mangling of the English language, is a direct quote from Gideon’s Bible – the Health and Safety manual. He drones on.) ‘By on your persona, I mean attached to a landyarn round your neck. I do not mean attached to your belt. I am sick and tired of being reported for crouching down and staring intently at people’s groins.’

‘When I’m at work, it is. At the moment I am on my way to work—’

‘But within the hospital grounds.’

‘Technically, yes, but you know perfectly well who I am and where I’m going ... Ouch.’

‘Oops, I didn’t mean to tread on you, but you’re an irrigating little foot soldier.’

More members of staff pass through. Because the peak of his cap is pulled down so far over his eyes, Gideon has to snap his head back to identify them (a bit like my uncle, who likes to wave at aeroplanes, but then he’s special). Annoyingly, they are all wearing ID badges. Everyone smiles mockingly at my obvious detention.

‘Why are you squirming?’ he asks.

I am actually clenching my buttocks in trepidation. My insides are beginning to rumble and churn again.

In an effort to remain calm, I focus on Gideon’s well-polished belt, which is festooned with the tools of his trade. There’s a dangling set of keys, torch, walkie-talkie and a pouch containing the Health and Safety manual. The Bible belt (as we call it) also contains a can of Twinkle Twat, the musk of love most favoured by women and cricketers. When sprayed into the eyes it is almost as lethal as Mace. The belt holds two other non-regulation items, purchased from a certain plain-fronted store in the back streets of Macarbrough. Chasing adolescents off hospital property with a ten-inch, flesh-coloured rubber dildo in one hand and a pair of orange fluffy handcuffs in the other has landed Gideon in hot water on more than one occasion.

I wait for a lull. ‘I’m sorry I irritated you. But please, Gideon, I’ll be late for clinic.’

‘I am standing guard for a reason.’ Even though we are alone he bends low for privacy. ‘There was a break-in during the night, only no one broke in. They must have used a key.’

‘Was anything stolen?’

‘I feared a drugs raid, but nothing was taken. It’s way, way more serious.’

‘It is?’ I say in alarm, and squeeze my sphincter.

He straightens and resumes military awareness as more people pass through. He waits for both sets of doors to close. ‘The perpetuators attempted to conceal four batteries of the type AA in a bucket of mucky water.’

‘Are they rechargeable?’

‘You can’t charge batteries with a crime, you ignoranus. They’re not even suspects. They’re the clue.’

‘What crime?’

‘Why, the illegal disposal of batteries, of course. Every member of staff knows you can’t just throw used batteries willy-nilly into a bin.’

‘What about a bucket?’

The jobsworth taps his hip. ‘It’s in the Health and Safety manual.’

‘I had a feeling it might be.’ A thought comes to me as he checks the next batch of arrivals. ‘If the water was dirty, how did you find them?’

‘A cleaner emptied the bucket into the sluice at 0653 hours and fished them out.’

‘Did she remember to roll up her sleeve?’

The Assistant Matron breezes through. She is not wearing ID. Gideon slams the heels of his spit-polished boots together and salutes, something he does reverentially to all management and nursing Sisters. ‘MA’AM,’ he screeches.

She recoils, staggers into the wall and hurries through, tottering on her heels.

‘Remind me,’ I say, ‘why is it illegal to dispose of used batteries willy-nilly?’

‘Eventually the white stuff leaks out, and believe me that stuff is lethal.’

‘What is it, exactly?’

‘It’s the natural waste product of electricity, which is why we have to pay to dispose of them properly.’

‘Why? Dead batteries are free of charge.’ I pause, but my wit misses him by a mile. ‘And you suspect terrorists broke into the hospital with a key to illegally dispose of four deadly poisonous AA batteries, and thus endanger the lives of everyone that works here?’

‘They probably took a member of staff hostage and forced them to hand over the key by threatening to cut off a finger and post it home. That’s what terrorists do.’

‘Sometimes they kidnap a close member of the family, which doesn’t hurt as much. Plus it’s a lot less messy and a big saving on stamps.’

‘Good point, Norbert. I should have thought of that.’

‘Oh God, I hope it isn’t Nunky,’ I say, worriedly.

‘Is he missing?’

‘He sleepwalks. I did hear someone farting repeatedly in the bathroom this morning, but that could have been Auntie. They sleep in separate rooms, you know.’

‘Do they indeed?’ Gideon taps the clipboard. ‘Every key holder is on this list. I’ve locked all the other entrances, so anyone who’s lost a key must pass through here. I intend to integrate every last one of them.’

‘Logical. Any key holder who doesn’t arrive must have been kidnapped.’

‘Exactly. It’s going to be a long process of intimidation, but I’ll get there in the end.’

I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. ‘Or perhaps the person responsible for locking up last night forgot to?’

‘That’s my job, you twerp, and there is … absolutely … no … … way …’ His speech winds down like a clockwork toy.

‘Kids taking a short cut home through the grounds from the youth club to the council estate pause in the doorway for a crafty smoke. Naturally it opens. Obviously they are carrying torches because they’ve vandalized the street lamps, and as they creep along the darkened corridors looking for drugs to steal one dies—’

‘I haven’t found any dead adolescents.’

‘The batteries in the torch died, so for a joke they drop them in a bucket of water which some bone idle, grannytickling cleaner has left in the middle of a corridor for any poor unsuspecting burglar to trip over...’

‘I can catatonically state that I did not forget to…’

‘Look.’ I point with the deductive authority of my favourite author, Sir Arthur Donut-Coil. ‘There are cigarette butts outside the entrance.’

‘The hospital has a no smoking policy, which, if left to me, would be enforced by firing squad. That’s where people smoke.’ (Gideon lost his previous job through screaming “Quick march, one-two, one-two” at the children and threatening motorists with his lollipop. See what I mean?)

‘But the cleaners sweep the dog ends up every evening, you know that.’

‘Numberous members of staff have already passed through this morning.’

‘You’ve been standing here all the while. If someone had stopped for a smoke, wouldn’t you have noticed?’

He tenses, his moustache twitches and he reaches for his dildo. But at that moment the doors slide apart and the Head Pharmacist appears. In one sweeping movement, Gideon withdraws his rubber penis and presses it against the side of his head in salute. ‘Excuse me sir, but am I right in deducting you have not used your personal key to gain access to the pharmacy this morning?’

‘My wife dropped me off. It was easier to use this door.’

‘Do you have your key on you, sir?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘May I see it, sir?’

‘Why?’

‘Can you catatonically confirm that neither you nor any member of your family was kidnapped during the night, sir, and that you still have a full condiment of fingers?’

‘The answer to both questions is yes, you dickhead.’

I take this opportunity to sneak through.