Oblivious (15 page)

‘Make sure that nobody is out there.’ She said holding the door. Joe looked around briefly.

‘It’s safe,’ he said, ‘apart from an old man watching his dog take a shit.’ Francis opened the door and Joe walked in, closing the door behind him. The floor of the hallway as adorned with small, coloured tiles, intricately placed to depict a glamorous pattern chosen many years ago. This led to several doorways and the staircase that ran up the centre of the house to the top floor overlooking the city landscape beyond the park.               Francis stepped to the bottom of the wooden stairs.

‘The bathroom is the first on the right,’ she said pointing upstairs, ‘clean towels are in the hamper. If you leave your clothes outside the door I’ll clean them for you.’ Joe was unable to contain his amazement at the size of the house.

‘Wow!’ he said looking around the décor at every angle. ‘How can you afford to live here?’ Francis stepped towards him.

‘There is plenty of time for that later,’ she said as she removed his jacket, ‘but for now I would like you to get cleaned up. I will cook us something to eat and then I’ll check your injuries.’ Joe stepped over to the stairs and took a step up. As he placed his hand on the railing he turned and faced Francis.

‘Thank you,’ he said with a smile on his face, ‘for everything.’ Francis patted her hand on his,

‘Supper is in one hour. I’ll see you then.’

              Joe went up the stairs and around the railing to the bathroom, all the while admiring the décor and furniture that would be associated with a lifestyle of higher standing. Dragging his leg behind him, he entered the bathroom and closed the door before slumping onto the toilet seat. Letting out a big gasp of air, he unfastened the top of his trousers and slid them down his legs. The extent of damage to his leg was immediately evident as he gently unravelled the homemade dressing. Dried blood and dirt was heavily embedded in the wound along with ash from when he tried to repair it himself. He took off all his clothes with care, every part of his body hurt for one reason or another. Standing up slowly, he turned the shower on and dipped his hand underneath to check the temperature. Joe picked up his clothes and quietly opened the door to put them on the floor outside as requested. Walking back to the shower, he stepped behind the curtain, leaning on the wall for support. As he stepped under the shower head, with one arm resting on the wall, he watched the water run down his chest and stomach, over the bruises and down his leg to the swollen, bloody skin. The water flow became almost hypnotic; as he watched it he had flashes of what has already happened and what he has been told.  Are Mary and Gina really still alive? If so, what is he going to do next? Joe continued to shower, scrubbing every inch of his body to remove as much dirt and dried blood as possible before stepping out slowly and drying himself down. He stopped and realised that he had put his clothes to be washed and had nothing to wear. Slowly turning the handle of the door, he went to see if his clothes were still there, only for Francis to thrust her arm through the gap in the door holding a bath robe.

‘Would this be ok for you?’ she said from behind the door.

‘Yes, thank you.’ replied Joe as he took it from her hand. Her arm disappeared and she shouted as she walked downstairs with his clothes.

‘Not long until supper. I hope you’re hungry.’ Joe closed the bathroom door as he finished patting himself down with the towel and put on the robe. It was a pristine white robe with black, silk piping around the trim and a shield embroidered on the left. It was such a clean bathrobe, Joe was afraid to get any blood on it from his wounds.

Joe opened the bathroom door and was instantly hit by an alluring scent of home cooked food which made him want to run down the stairs and start eating, if only his leg would allow it. Instead of running, as he wishes he could, Joe hopped over to the bannister and carefully led himself, arm over arm to the top of the stairs. He slid his foot down each step, keeping his left leg raised as high as possible, being cautious not to catch it on the stairs. After going past halfway, his frail body started to buckle under the weight as the pressure built up on his one good leg. Just a few steps remained before he was back on level ground; Joe took each movement carefully, resting between each one to gain his breath and balance once more. Eventually made it to the bottom, Joe was so exhausted, he felt as though he had climbed the Empire State Building without using the stairs or elevator. Regaining his stance, Joe stood as well as he could on one leg and could see the living room, the main room at the front of the house with wood panelled walls from floor to ceiling and matching colour floorboards, waxed and polished to perfection. He gently hobbled towards the entrance of the room and admired everything he saw from the two large sofas either side of a large coffee table to the roaring fire set in a grand, elaborate surround.

‘Nice shower?’ said Francis, walking in through another door carrying a tray with two plates of food.

‘Yes, thanks.’ Said Joe limping towards one of the sofas, ‘That smells good.’ Francis placed the tray on the coffee table between the sofas and rearranged the cushions for Joe to sit down. She held Joe by the arm and ushered him carefully to the sofa, helping him to gently lower himself down and lifting his leg onto a cushion at the other end of the seat. As he shuffled his leg to get comfortable Joe’s robe slipped open causing Francis to quickly avert her eyes.

‘Sorry.’ She said embarrassed.

‘It’s okay,’ said Joe, rearranging his gown to cover his modesty, ‘I should have thought about that. But then again, you’ve seen it all before.’

‘I know.’ said Francis smiling as she sat down on the sofa opposite, ‘I am a professional with what I do, but it’s mostly broken arms and head stitches. Most men would be embarrassed and would learn to suffer if they had any issues in that area.’

Francis lifted one of the plates from the tray, placed it in front of her on the coffee table and took the tray around to Joe and lay it carefully across his knee.

‘I bet you’re hungry,’ she said, placing the cutlery in his hand, ‘this food is good to keep you warm and give you energy, that and it tastes delicious.’ Joe leant over his plate and took in a big breathe.

‘Aaah!’ he said as he took in the aroma, ‘This does smell and look delicious.’ His plate was a mass of pasta with a variety of different meats chopped into small, bite sized pieces, mixed together in a tomato sauce and topped with a few salad leaves. Piling up his fork, Joe gathered up a bit of everything from the plate and chewed it down with delight, ‘This is fantastic.’ He said as he dipped in his fork for more.

‘Thank you,’ Francis said, pouring two glasses of water from a jug on the table, ‘I never really know what I want to eat so I put together everything I fancy and see what happens.’

‘Well, you did it and it was good.’ Joe smiled.

‘You’re lucky it’s a good one. You weren’t here for the disastrous ham and chocolate pie.’ Joe laughed as he appeared to swallow his food without chewing, like a duck would eat bread.

With no more pasta or meat on his plate, Joe placed the fork on the tray and ran his fingers through the sauce, lapping up every last drop.

‘That was amazing.’ he said with his fingers still in his mouth, ‘You have no idea how long I have craved a good meal.’ Still only about half way through her meal, Francis smiled at Joe.

‘I’m glad you like it. But don’t get used to it, you can’t stay here forever. If anyone knew I’d even met you I’d be locked up, never mind inviting you into my home for a shower and dinner.’ Joe slid the tray off his knee and gently leant forward as he placed it onto the coffee table.

‘I’m sorry I came to you,’ he said as he picked up his glass of water, ‘but I had no idea where else to go. The first thing I need to figure out is where that bastard Gordy is keeping Gina and Mary and then I will go after them.’ Francis swallowed her last mouthful of food and placed knife and fork on the empty plate.

‘You’re wrong, Joe. The first thing we need to do is get you better. Your leg is ready to fall off, you have more bruised skin than healthy and god only knows what’s happening with your stomach. Please let me call Doctor Gable and he can help.’

‘No!’ Joe snapped quickly, raising his hand, ‘Nobody can know that I’m here, I don’t care how much you trust them. I’m sorry, but nobody can know. Francis leant forward, grabbed the plated from Joe’s tray and placed it on top of hers.

‘I will try to help you, Joe.’ She said as she picked up the plates and trays, ‘But I’m not sure what use I can be.’ Joe drank the last bit of water from his glass and placed it on the coffee table.

‘I want you to follow Gordy and see where he’s keeping Mary and Gina. I need to do everything I can to get them away and teach him a lesson.’ Francis stood up and took the plates and trays into the next room as Joe continued to talk, ‘Tomorrow, I need you to get a car and wait for him outside his shop. When he leaves, follow him to wherever he goes and hopefully he’ll lead you to them.’ Francis walked back into the room and leant her shoulder against the door frame,

‘I’m not a spy, Joe. And besides, this sounds dangerous. I am in enough trouble as it is because The Warden thinks I helped you escape.’ Joe placed his hands over his face and rubbed his forehead.

‘I only want you to follow him and as long as you keep out of sight you’ll be fine. Just come back here, let me know where he’s keeping them and I will do the rest, you won’t need to get involved.’ Francis walked back over to the sofa where she was sitting before and looked Joe in eye.

‘I’m already involved, Joe. I was involved from the moment we met in the infirmary. I got myself involved deeper when I agreed to listen to you. I will do what I have to.’ Joe gave a small smile, pleased with what she was saying, ‘But if I don’t like anything, Joe, I am going to do what I have to. Do you understand that?’ Joe nodded; he understood all too well what Francis was telling him.

Francis grabbed a large wooden box from underneath the coffee table and placed it on top. She walked around and sat next to Joe, ‘This will hurt,’ she said lifting Joe’s wounded leg gently across her lap. She opened the box and took out several rolls of bandage and gauze along with a bottle of antiseptic. Taking a small amount of cotton wool, she softly dabbed the open wound, causing Joe to wince in pain.

‘Sorry.’ She said as she tried to clean away the hardened blood. The pain was almost unbearable for Joe, but this didn’t stop Francis from carrying on. After cleaning it up better, she wrapped Joe’s leg with gauze and bandage. To him it felt tight but more supporting than anything he had done previously.

‘Thank you,’ he said, letting out a gasp of air, ‘that feels so much better.’ Francis put the leftover pieces of bandage in the box and closed the lid, ‘It won’t last you long. If you keep walking around you’ll end up doing more damage. What you need to do is rest it for as long as possible. You can sleep in one of the spare rooms. The door after the bathroom has the bed already made up and I figure it’s not too far for you to go in the night.’ Joe reached his hand across and placed it on top of Francis’.

He gazed into her eyes, ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’ Francis’ eyes started to fill with tears as she stared back at him, ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked as he lowered his leg gently to get himself to sit closer to her.

‘It’s nothing,’ she replied whilst wiping a single tear from her cheek, ‘I live in this house all by myself and you forget how much you miss just talking to someone, no matter what it is.’ Joe wiped his thumb across her face to catch the tears as they fell.

‘Why are you on your own?’ he asked, ‘This place is far too big and posh for someone like you.’ Francis turned her head away and stared deep into the fireplace as the flames jumped about.

‘When I was seventeen my uncle died,’ she said with a quake in her voice, ‘he left me this house because he didn’t have any family of his own. I would come here when I was a kid, mostly in the summertime and we would have so much fun. He would take me to Central Park, up the Empire State and we would always catch a show on Broadway. This was my home away from home. I grew up on Rhode Island originally where I lived with my mum and dad, and when my uncle died I was devastated. I came here straight away and didn’t want to leave. For several weeks after he had gone I would sit on his bed at night holding his dressing gown tight and imagining he was still here. The plan was that my parents were going to move in here as well and sell their house, but it never happened.’ Joe reached his hand around her chin and turned her head to face him.

‘Why not?’ He asked. Francis wiped the tears from her face before continuing.

‘We couldn’t afford much and a car was never something we would ever buy. My mum and dad caught the bus into the city and I went to meet them. As they stepped off the bus I could see them from across the road, I was so happy that we would be together again. It had been months since I had seen them and with the house and money my uncle left me, my dad could retire and didn’t have to work anymore. As I looked across the road at my mum and dad, another man stepped off the bus behind them. It all happened so fast, he just pulled out a gun and started shooting the people on the kerb, like the games you see at the fairground. But this wasn’t some little duck shapes cut out of metal, it was my only family that he was shooting at. Before anyone knew what was happening the man pressed the end of the gun against the underneath of his chin and pulled the trigger. It all went by at such a blur yet I have relived that moment every day since in slow motion. The screams of people around silenced any other noise that came from the city. I remember shouting for my mum and dad as I ran across the road, dodging the people and cars as they scrambled out of the way. By the time I got to them it was too late, they had already died and I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t even hug them one last time.’ Francis turned her head away from Joe once more, frantically wiping the tears away with her hands.

‘I am so sorry,’ said Joe as he sat closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, ‘I had no idea. Do you know who the man was?’ Francis sat silent for a few seconds as she wiped the tears away and gathered her breath once more.

‘He was in the army,’ she said as she looked down at the tears soaking into her blue denim jeans, ‘just like you, Joe. He was sent away because they say there was something wrong with his mind but as soon as he got home he was forgotten about, just like you.’ Joe sat back slowly.

‘I would never hurt you, Francis. You have to believe me.’

‘I do,’ she said patting her hand on his knee, ‘I believe you don’t want to hurt anyone. I forgave that man for what he did because I realise it wasn’t his fault. I do my job because I want to help people that the others forget about. I know that there is something special with you Joe and I want to help.’ Turning to Joe, he held his arms tightly around Francis and embraced her as she wept onto his shoulder.

After several minutes of emotion, Francis stood up and placed the box of medical supplies back under the coffee table.

‘I need to get some sleep,’ she said as she walked towards the stairs, ‘and you do too if you want your leg to get better. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need a drink to ease the pain and help you sleep, you can find one in the cabinet in the other room.’ Joe looked over to Francis as she ascended the staircase.

‘Thank you.’ He couldn’t say it enough; she could have left him on the street but decided to help.

Joe slowly stood up and extended his legs, he could feel the dressing gave him better support allowing him to put more weight down. Slowly, he walked to the next room and opened the door. He could see that the same décor extended throughout the house, wooden panelling on every wall highlighted by unique artwork, ornate artefacts and furniture. In the centre of the room stood a large, solid wood dining table, smoothed and polished to the high standard as the grand chairs that surrounded it. In the corner was a cabinet with a small row of tumblers and a few bottles of alcohol on top. Joe stepped over to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and poured himself a large amount of whisky. He lifted the glass to his nose, smelling the whisky it gave Joe an instant sense of satisfaction, he had no idea how much he missed it. Knocking back the whisky with one mouthful, he slammed the glass back on the counter, giving out a sigh of pleasure as he swallowed. Without even a thought, he poured even more whisky into the glass and drank it in one mouthful. He continued to pour and drink without letting go of the bottle or glass. Pressing the empty glass against his forehead, Joe struggled to keep himself steady, leaning on the cabinet for support. He placed the glass on the cabinet and pushed himself up with his arms.

Joe looked down at his legs and realised that the drink had gotten the better of him. He was feeling less pain than before, but this wasn’t good for him as he was unsure what more damage he might do. Slowly, he walked back through the house and over to the staircase, holding onto the railing he began to hoist his body up the steps, like a mountain climber pulling on a rope as he rose up the steep surface. Eventually he got to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner to his room. Without even turning on the light, he could see enough being illuminated by the light from the moon and the streetlamps outside his window, he stumbled to the bed; slowly lifting his leg onto the mattress he dropped his body onto the soft, cotton bedding. Instantly the comfort engulfed his senses and he felt as though he had collapsed on a cloud, so much more attractive than anything else he had ever slept on.