Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely - Gail Honeyman Page 0,31

he might be about to pull out of there? He inserted something into his ear and fiddled about for a moment, a high-pitched squeal emitting from that side of his head. It stopped, and he smiled.

“Right then,” he said, “that’s better. Now the dog can see the rabbit, eh? So, what’s the story with you pair—church, is it? Or are you trying to rent me a telly again? I don’t want one, son—I’ve already told your pals. There’s no way I’m paying good money just to lie here and watch all that shite! Fatties doing ballroom dancing, grown men baking cakes, for the love of God!”

Raymond cleared his throat again and repeated his introduction, while I leaned forward and shook Sammy’s hand. His expression changed instantly and he beamed at us both.

“Oh, so it was you pair, was it? I kept asking the nurses who it was that had saved my life—“Who brought me in?” I said. “How did I get here?”—but they couldn’t tell me. Have a seat, come on, sit down next to me and tell me all about yourselves. I can’t thank you enough for what you did, I really can’t.” He nodded, and then his face became very serious. “All you hear these days is that everything’s going to hell in a handcart, how everybody’s a pedophile or a crook, and it’s not true. You forget that the world is full of ordinary decent people like yourselves, Good Samaritans who’ll stop and help a soul in need. Just wait till the family meet you! They’ll be over the moon, so they will.”

He leaned back on his pillows, tired out from the effort of talking. Raymond fetched me a plastic seat, then another for himself.

“How are you feeling, then, Mr. Thom?” Raymond asked him. “Did you have a good night?”

“Call me Sammy, son—there’s no need to stand on ceremony. I’m doing fine, thanks; I’ll be right as rain in no time. You and your wife here saved my life, though, no two ways about it.”

I felt Raymond shift in his chair, and I leaned forward.

“Mr. Thom,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows, then waggled them at me in quite a disconcerting way. “Sammy,” I said, correcting myself, and he nodded at me.

“I’m afraid I have to clarify a couple of factual inaccuracies,” I said. “Firstly, we did not save your life. Credit for that must go to the Ambulance Service, whose staff, although somewhat brusque, did what was necessary to stabilize your condition whilst they brought you here. The medical team at the hospital, including the anesthetist and the orthopedic surgeon who operated on your hip, alongside the many other health-care professionals who have carried out your postoperative care—it is they who saved you, if anyone did. Raymond and I merely summoned assistance and kept you company until such time as the National Health Service took responsibility.”

“Aye, God bless the NHS, right enough,” said Raymond, interrupting rudely. I gave him one of my sternest looks.

“Furthermore,” I continued, “I should clarify posthaste that Raymond and myself are merely coworkers. We are most certainly not married to one another.” I stared hard at Sammy, making sure that he was in no doubt. Sammy looked at Raymond. Raymond looked at Sammy. There was a silence which, to me, seemed slightly awkward. Raymond sat forward in his chair.

“So, eh, where do you live then, Sammy? What were you up to the other day when you had your accident?” he asked.

Sammy smiled at him.

“I’m local, son—born and bred,” he said. “I always get my bits and pieces from the shops on a Friday. I’d been feeling a bit funny that morning, right enough, but I thought it was just my angina. Never expected to find myself in here!”

He took a toffee from a large bag on his lap, then offered them to us. Raymond took one; I declined. The thought of malleable confectionery, warmed to body temperature on Sammy’s groin (albeit encased in flannel pajamas and a blanket) was repellent.

Both Sammy and Raymond were audible masticators. While they chomped, I looked at my hands, noticing that they looked raw, almost burned, but glad of the fact that the alcohol rub had removed the germs and bacteria which lurked everywhere in the hospital. And, presumably, on me.

“What about you two—did you have far to come today?” Sammy asked. “Separately, I mean,” he added quickly, looking at me.

“I live on the South Side,” Raymond said, “and Eleanor’s . . . you’re in the West End,