on the other hand – or better yet, a duffel bag full of them… As the boy descended the stairs again, Mrs Dixit jumped up nimbly from the chair and laid the knife down on the table. She felt instantly better now she was no longer holding it. Knives were not the answer.
Mrs Rampersad looked up at Mrs Dixit as she nipped around the table, giving her an unsteady thumbs up before her arm collapsed at her side.
Careful to bend with her knees, Mrs Dixit tested the weight of the bag. She grunted with the effort. It was too heavy to swing as it was, she’d have to remove a couple of trains, it would only take a…
She could hear the boy approaching the stairs, cursing under his breath. It was now or never. Using all her might, Mrs Dixit gave the bag a swing, almost falling backwards with the momentum – she didn’t want to fly down the stairs with it. Bracing herself, she swung the bag again – the boy gave a surprised ‘Wha!’ as he saw her, and this time she let the bag go as he began his panicked climb. There was a crunching sound on contact, of metal, at some velocity, greeting meat and bone, the bag hitting the boy square in the chest, knocking him backwards down the stairs with an almighty crash as both bag and boy hit the floor. She waited, holding her breath. Mrs Dixit had ruled out the knife, but if he stirred…
There came a soft moan, but nothing more.
She sprinted over to Mrs Rampersad, who had her chin on her chest, her eyelids half closed.
‘Come on, let’s get up,’ Mrs Dixit said merrily, attempting to take her neighbour’s hand and pull her to a sitting position. ‘Please, we don’t have much time!’ Mrs Rampersad groaned, which was answered by a groan from the bottom of the stairs. She remained unmoveable, even with Mrs Dixit hauling with every ounce of strength. Grabbing one of Mrs Rampersad’s booted feet, she pulled as hard as she could. Mrs Rampersad moved a few inches, sliding down the wall, but then she would not budge. Mrs Dixit tried everything – pulling both her feet simultaneously, grabbing the hem of her coat, yanking on her hands – but nothing worked.
Giving it one last attempt, Mrs Dixit took hold of the tied boot laces, and there was something about this vantage that gave her extra power, and slowly and painfully, she slid Mrs Rampersad across the hallway floor and towards the front door. What was she going to do now? Mrs Dixit couldn’t leave the woman here, what would happen if the boy came around? A phone! Mrs Dixit was about to take her neighbour’s keys and run upstairs to use the phone, when Mrs Rampersad opened her eyes to say, ‘You don’t have to worry. See?’
There was a sudden knocking on the front door which frightened Mrs Dixit half to death. At first, she assumed it was the gang come to pick the boy up, but then through the frosted glass she noticed the flashing lights.
‘I called them before I had my little fall,’ Mrs Rampersad said proudly. ‘I listened by your front door. I didn’t know who was inside, but I didn’t like the sound of them. You can never be too safe.’
‘Oh, you wonderful woman,’ Mrs Dixit said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Thank you, thank you.’
Mrs Rampersad gave another wobbly thumbs up before collapsing again.
Mrs Dixit rode with Mrs Rampersad in the ambulance as dawn broke across the sky. It was very strange to be back at Chomley hospital, but as a patient this time. After getting a dressing on the side of her face – for the cut the boy’s ring had left – and some pain relief for her cracked ribs, she was discharged, only to be interviewed by the police. Once that was over, she sat by Mrs Rampersad’s bed – she was being kept awake for observation. Every hour, the nurse came in with fresh coffee.
Mrs Rampersad, while still incredibly woozy, was also being extraordinarily nice to everyone. Mrs Dixit was seriously concerned about brain damage. But eventually the old Mrs Rampersad drifted back and she was soon grumbling about the state of the coffee, and the smell of the ward, and the fact the nurses were a pack of heathens. Once this rebalance had occurred, Mrs Dixit felt safe to leave her to rest.
40 days since the