No? （How wretched did Col feel in that moment. His easy dismissal of her and her good-time ways.） No alcohol present at all, said the policeman. Black ice and bad luck. Car’s a write-off.
Where’s the car?
Leyton. She was heading west.
She was heading to me, thought Col.
Looked like she was going away, said the policeman. She had suitcases in the back.
You got ’em?
In the squad car.
I’ll come down now, he said.
Col put the last of the cases in the back of the ambulance and closed the door. He shook hands and gave the policeman his details. Emergency sirens cleaved the air and a rush of vehicles came to a halt. Blue lights flashed across Col’s face. Col lit a cigarette. So you did it, Peg. You made a bloody run for it. I’ll get you wherever you need to get, and he flicked the cigarette away and headed back to the ward. Wasn’t quick enough to grasp the look on the young nurse’s face, though, as he pulled back the curtain and— All right, Col?
It was Ted.
Col could feel the acid roil and his hand reached for his guts.
You look a bit pale, Col. You should see a doctor （Ted laughed）。 Now you tell me what the chances of this were, eh? That a bloke I know was visiting his old mum. Actually walking out the same time Peg was going in. Well, you’d phone the husband, wouldn’t you? At least to find out what was what. Husband didn’t know what was what, but that call made him feel like God was on his side.
Col feeling woozy.
Anyway, as you can see – and Ted sat on the bed – I’m here now. Your assistance no longer required.
Col feeling his hand tingle. Getting breathless now, all that blood rushing. And as swift as Col had ever moved in his life, he pulled Ted into a headlock and held something sharp against his throat. He said, I swear to God, the only thing stopping me sticking these scissors in is that you’d get immediate medical attention. Now fuck off. （A little nip to Ted’s ear before Col let him go.） Ow, yelped Ted and he reached up and saw blood. You don’t know who you’re messing with, he said. I know people.
You know people, do you, Ted? People who need people? Piss off, said Col. And stay away.
Col kept vigil for the rest of the night. And when he was moved on by the matron, he kept vigil somewhere else. Stayed like that all night. Moved on. Vigil. Moved on. Vigil. Fags and tea. He overheard a nurse tell another nurse that he was the boyfriend. Slight giggle afterwards. Would’ve loved to have heard that once. Now it was about something else.
In the early hours, a nurse found him and told him Peg was awake.
Col looked through the curtain. All right, love? he said.
Peg turned away.
She said nothing in the ambulance on the way home. She leant against the window with a faraway look in those Peggy blues. Unresponsive when Col squeezed her hand. Not far now, he said.
He led her into the pub. Straight past the optics she walked, didn’t even register. Up the stairs, kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed.
You want a hot chocolate?
Col waiting for the ridicule. What am I, Col? Nine? But it didn’t come. Peg needed help taking off her cardigan. Slipped out of her skirt and got under the covers. Said nothing and looked away.
He heard the back door open downstairs. The voice of Mrs Kaur and Ginny running up the stairs. Col up quick to the door to hold Gin back.
Peg’s hurt her face, love. Peg’s sad.
I make Peg better, said Ginny. I made Claude better. I make people better.
Ginny tiptoed into the room. She sat on the bed and rubbed Peg’s back. I love you, Peggy. I love you so much, Peggy. And that’s the way it’ll always be, Peggy.
Peg’s face crumpled. Peg pulled a pillow over her head and sobbed.
Col left the room.
The kitchen smelt of curry.
At the stove stood Mrs Kaur in an apron brought from home. She said, I thought you would be in need of sustenance after such a long night, Mr Formiloe.
Col had never eaten curry before. Smelt it on Ginny plenty of times, though.
Sarson ka saag, said Mrs Kaur. Dal makhana. And this is roti.
Col repeated the words.
As he ate, Col said something about the profusion of flavours. And no meat?
No meat, Mr Formiloe.
Well I never. Is that to do with – you know, your—？
Life as a Sikh?
Col nodded.
No. We have the choice. I choose not to.
When they’d finished eating, Col offered Mrs Kaur a cigarette. Offered her a whisky, too.
I don’t smoke or drink, Mr Formiloe.
Why?
She laughed at that. He did too, even though he was being serious.
D’you mind if—？