SNAFU

By Angharad

 

Part 11

I won’t dwell on the journey back, I received some accolades and criticisms. “Shoulda left it to the police,” came one critics opinion.

“If I had you’d still be there.” Was my response.

“How’d you make that growling noise?” asked another, “that was pretty cool.”

Kate gave my hand a squeeze and said quietly to me, “I may have some reconsidering to do about realities.” I just smiled my reply.

We got home about six that morning, it was barely worth trying to sleep as I’d have to be up at eight and in school for nine. I just went and had a leisurely shower.  My hair was now long enough to put up in a sort of pony tail that I clipped up, rather than allowed to hang. It meant I didn’t eat quite so much of it at meal times.

Then I checked my texts. There was a new one from John. ‘Where are U, tried calling, no reply. C U soon my princess. Luv J.’  I immediately sent him a text reply. ‘sorry girls nite out, miss U. princess J.’  I thought, he’ll like that one.

Well the day was one big yawn, quite literally. Half of the class had been to the club so they were actually yawning themselves silly. Once someone started we were all at it. One of the girls actually started to nod off, which was okay until she began to snore. Even the lecturer had to laugh, but was the girl embarrassed!

There were lots of discussion as to what had happened, and the rumours were abounding. I probably knew more of what had happened than most and even I didn’t have the full story. We surmised it was one of those Yardie Gang things about drugs and guns, but we’d have to wait for the full story. I half expected to be interviewed again by the police, especially as there would be serious charges against the man they caught. Firearms offences are as serious as it gets, especially when someone is shot. So with just my limited knowledge of the law, he could be charged with possession of a firearm, especially as hand guns have been illegal in the UK for some years, accessory to murder, taking and detaining someone against their will, false imprisonment, plus probably lots more. He would go down for quite a long stretch, which I felt he richly deserved.

Midway through the physiology lecture, the digestive system in all its glory, I was sent for by Captain Brice. It was not entirely unexpected. I went to her  office along a well trodden path. I knocked and entered when bid to do so.

“Ah, Nurse Curtis, this is Superintendent Mitchell. He’d like to ask you a few questions about last night. Would you like me to leave or stay?”

The big uniformed police officer shrugged his shoulders, so it was up to me. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I thought the presence of a potentially friendly third party would prevent the use of thumb-screws and rubber coshes. “I’d like you to stay ma’am.” She nodded her assent.

“Miss Curtis, I have your statement here from last night, would you care to read it.” He handed me a piece of paper. It seemed a reasonable account of what I’d said had happened, which of course was the edited highlights. He also showed a copy to Captain Brice.

“Yes, that’s what I remember having told you.”

“Quite. Just a few things I’d like to clear up, if you don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly at me. I could hardly object in any case, but he seemed a nice man about my father’s age, but much heavier built. He began the interrogation.

“Did you see the shooting in the club?”

“No, I was in the toilets and coming back we heard the screams, so I peeped around the corner to see what was going on. I think we heard a shot, but probably not the one which killed the man.”

“You called 999 and reported the shooting?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you give your name and address?”

“I didn’t want anyone seeing me phoning, they might have shot me.”

“You realised we could trace the number of the phone making the call?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you in any case.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Miss Curtis, because there are a few anomalies, probably oversights, in your statement and some of the other witnesses.” It was one of those ‘Oh shit!’ moments. I had half expected it but even so, I didn’t really relish the thought let alone the reality.

“You were taken hostage by the gunmen?”

“They caught us coming back from the toilets, someone made a noise and they came to investigate. We were paraded out in front of the others, one of the women became hysterical and when he swore at her, my friend I think, took her off to calm her down. I was left standing out the front pretty well on my own. He made threats to me, rubbed the gun on my face to intimidate me then you lot arrived.”

“Many witnesses said you behaved with great courage while he made threats to you.”

“I was too frightened to move.”

“What happened next?”

“I think the phone rang. It rang for some time and one of them ripped it off the wall and smashed it.”

“That was the officer in charge trying to make contact with the gunmen. What do you remember next?”

“There was a general confusion and for some reason they decided as there were three exits, to take one each. I was taken as a hostage/ shield to one of the exits by the man who had threatened me.”

“Yes, we weren’t aware of the three exits, apparently that was a new one not on the original plans. Go on.”

“He pushed me through the door, and when I wasn’t shot by marksmen, he peeped round the door and decided to make a break for it with me as his hostage.”

“Why did he start shooting. If he hadn’t he might have got a lot further?”

“I don’t know, and was hardly in a position to ask him. He was very nervous and I suppose he thought he saw something. I don’t know.”

“When did you try to escape?”

“He fired off three or four shots at a shadow or dustbin or whatever, and I heard the gun click empty. I thought that this was probably going to be the only chance I had. I grabbed a metal dustbin lid and hit him with it. Then your men showed up and shot him dead.”

“He had a wound to his face commensurate with being hit with something, a blunt instrument. What happened next?”

It was beginning to feel like a television quiz programme, would I lose points if I guessed wrong? “Am I guilty of assault or something?”

“Certainly not, please carry on.”

“I was taken to speak to some officer who asked me questions about the place and my understanding of what had happened, people involved and all that. I told him there was just one man left with a gun and that someone had been shot in the club but I didn’t know if he was alive or dead. I offered to lead the police in through the exit I’d used, but they declined. I had friends in there and I knew the man who was left was very frightened and superstitious.(From here on I had to tell a few porkies, because it was easier than saying, I turn into a lioness on demand!). Also I was pretty sure he was on drugs or booze and I had nearly intimidated him when he brought me from the toilet corridor, but he broke eye contact. I read in a book on hypnosis that it was possible to hypnotise people in that sort of state very easily. I thought I could do it, so I did.”

“You took a bullet proof vest from a police car?”

“Yes, but I did give it back. I only borrowed it.”

“Please continue.”

“Well I did exactly what I said. I went back through the fire exit, and he was stood at the bottom of the stairs. He saw the vest and thought I was the police, and he made a run for it. Some one clobbered him and you lot arrested him. End of story.”

“Not quite, I’m afraid other witnesses statements tend to contradict you. Please think again.”

“I can’t remember, I was so frightened that I’ve forgotten.”

“Please think, would it help if I mentioned you threatening to eat his heart and making growling noises like a wild animal.”

People are a bloody pain. I save their lives, or my little friend did with my help and they have to complicate the issue. I now had a damage limitation to do. Captain Brice gave me a very old fashioned look, so I was sure more questions would arise there eventually. “I’m not sure quite what I said. He was of Afro-Caribbean origin and I just thought if I could fix him with my eye and make him believe that he couldn’t hurt me because I was some magical shape shifter, then he would surrender or run away or faint.”

“I see, so you reckon you hypnotised him  into believing you were a lion or some such creature and he ran away?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I can’t remember. I growled and threatened to eat his heart or liver. I was trying to frighten him, it was all happening in his mind. I’m not a cannibal you know.”

He smiled at this last bit. “Miss Curtis, I have no suspicion of you being a cannibal. However, did you not consider your action reckless?”

“I did have a bullet proof jacket on.”

“It would hardly have prevented him shooting you in the head or a limb, and if your strategy had gone wrong he could have shot others, including the hostage he was holding. Plus having got you out, we had reduced the numbers of possible casualties by one, then you go back in again. It was foolhardy in the extreme.”

I felt about six inches tall and wished the ground would swallow me up. “I’m sorry, I was only trying to help.”

“Do you promise never to do such a foolhardy thing again?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. We may need to see you again about the statements. We shall also need to see you again later when he comes to trial, unless he pleads guilty. He is in big trouble, we may charge him with murder. Then there is the matter of your award.”

“What?” I gasped.

“It seems the powers that be have seen fit to nominate you for a bravery award. I don’t know how they decide these things, but in the circumstances single handedly disarming a gunman while unarmed yourself is going to be hard to beat. I’m not sure I approve in one way, but I can’t doubt your courage just your judgement. You are a very brave young woman. Pity you’re in here we could do with you in the police, provided you learn to take orders.” I was still reeling as he took his leave of us shaking both our hands.

I went to leave, when Captain Brice’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “Stay there Nurse Curtis.”

Oh bugger! I thought, now for it.

“Have you seen the local paper?”

“No ma’am.”

“I believe the nationals will be running the story too.”

“What story ma’am?”

“Sometimes I worry about you Nurse Curtis. What have we just been talking about?”

“Oh that.”

“Yes that, or should I say this.” She produced the evening paper. I read the headline, ‘Shooting at local nightspot, nurse saves lives of dozens of clubbers.’

“I get the distinct impression that you hadn’t thought about this as a consequence before you saved the world?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t.”

“I thought not. You realise if they dig about enough they may find something we haven’t covered about your past. Then the proverbial will really hit the fan. The tabloids will have a field day.”

My spirits just fell through the floor. What could I do, I didn’t know.

“Have you told your parents?”

“No ma’am.”

“I think you better had and soon. We have asked our students not to say anything, but who knows what will happen if they get offered money, and we have no control over the other clubbers. I’m afraid you are just going to have to wait and see. Let me know if you need help. The police have agreed not to release your name for the moment, just pray this goes away soon.”

I walked out in a daze. I was very tired from lack of sleep. As I was walking back to my room, a group of people with cameras and microphones ran towards me. I froze for a moment, then ran for it, back into the hospital and hid in the sluice room. What was I going to do? I sat agonising for some time. Then a wave of tiredness overcame me and I fell asleep.

According to my watch, it was nearly nine in the evening. I sneaked out of the hospital and managed to get into the nurses home via the back door, well it’s a fire exit and with help from a few carefully thrown bits of gravel and subsequent help from Sharon, who came down when I tapped her window, and let me in. I felt like some criminal, being pursued by the press. Again my heart went out to those who had been chased simply for bring different and became newspaper fodder, to titillate tabloid readers. It had happened to so many transgendered people, and while some invited publicity, most shunned it.

I got in and phoned my parents. I explained things quickly to them. They understood only too well the danger in this publicity, especially if they wanted to do a background check. Thankfully, the army were giving little away, saying that I was embarrassed by the sudden celebrity. I would be described as a local Barbury girl, which would hopefully muddy the waters somewhat. I just hope no one from the Oxford based press would recognise me.

We played cat and mouse for a whole week. It was at times quite fun, with everyone becoming involved in deceiving the reporters who waited around the nurses home or the school of nursing. The army school of nursing, released press statements saying that I was very shy, which was true, and declined to give an interview. On my behalf they turned down offers of more than fifty thousands pounds from a tabloid, for my story. The tabloids were now calling me ‘The Lion Girl’ and by mistake published a photo of Sharon, which they had sneaked somehow.

Then much to my astonishment, Dr Fellowes sent me a note. I was to meet him or he would let certain people in the media know my whereabouts. I phoned the number he left.

“Dr. Fellowes? It’s Jamie Curtis.” I was not really very happy to be calling him.

I was to go to his house at seven that night. I could take a taxi, and he would refund the fare. I was quite irked by this demand as I’d wanted to get together with John. John understood about the publicity problem and we talked on the phone a few times, but he seemed to want to keep out of the public eye too. It suited me and at the same time intrigued me, was it a personal thing or a professional thing? When would he tell me about his work? And maybe I had to ask the same question about when I should tell him about my little problem.

Something we had briefly discussed, because he asked me ‘if the man in the alley had emptied his gun into a phantom lioness?’ He caught on quick, I told him it was a protective spirit which watched over me, well it was kind of. He asked if I could organise a similar one for him! One day I would tell what the price of such protection cost, body and soul for eternity at the last estimate.

I paid off the taxi, and walked into the detached house. It was quite a size, four or five bedrooms. There was a brass plate on the wall giving Dr Fellowes name and his medical degrees. The usual stuff. I presumed he saw patients here as well as the hospital, unless he didn’t think the postman could find the house by its number. The area was leafy suburbia, with avenues of horsechestnut and plane trees, and strips of grass between pavement and road. I rang the large brass bell.

The doctor answered the door himself and invited me in. I went in without much enthusiasm. “I’m glad you could come.” He greeted me.

“I had little choice, you threatened me.”

“Please don’t think so badly of me. I had to get to talk to you.”

“Well I’m here now, so talk.” I just wanted to get out.

“Let’s go in the study, it’s cosier.” He showed me into very nice room full of books and journals, computers and some pictures. Although I had never met his wife, I knew which of the photos were of her. He went off to make some tea. I was glad to see he hadn’t been drinking. He came back about ten minutes later with a pot of tea, bone china cups and saucers, a milk jug and matching sugar bowl. There was even a hot water jug, and a plate of chocolate biscuits.

He asked me if I’d care ‘to be mother’, an expression meaning would I like to pour the teas. I did so quite happily, even if it was somewhat stereotypical. I was perched on a leather sofa, he was sat opposite on a matching chair and between us was the tray atop a large coffee table.

I had seen enough of the room to realise that he like my dad collected books, only his were probably older and had Latin titles. I presumed they were old medical textbooks. A simple question confirmed this.

“Do you like books, Jamie?” he asked me.

“Some. I’m not as acquisitive as my dad, he lives for his literature.” This gave us a few minutes of icebreaking on a neutral topic. I told him about the Shakespeare fragment my dad had, he showed me his letter from Paracelsus. I suppose I was impressed, but felt both should be in the public domain a view shared by my mum.

“You know why I asked you to come?” he eventually said.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s for therapy.”

“No this is strictly non-professional,” he stated and I nodded my understanding.

“Firstly, I should thank you for saving my life. It was you who informed the police?”

“Does it matter who called them?” I responded. He was still a trick-cyclist and I wanted to tell him as little as possible. Strictly a need to know basis.

“I’d like a confirmation if you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe you have certain powers of perception which enable you to see things which most of us can’t.”

“You mean your wife’s accident?”

“Well that and I’m sure she came to tell you she was dying.”

“Why should she come to see me? It’s not as if she knew me.”

“She just said she was coming to see you as she died. I could hardly argue with her. Why are you so defensive?”

“Am I? Maybe it’s that I feel uncomfortable here?”

“Why, is it the house? Is she here?”

“My problem isn’t with the house or your wife.” I replied very quietly to him.

“Do you not feel safe with me?” He looked hurt by the very idea that he could frighten anybody.

“You did threaten me.”

“I should never have carried it out. I felt desperate.”

“Why, what is it you want?”

“I want to speak to Beryl through you.”

“You want what?” I gasped .

“I want to make use of your mediumistic powers to speak to my wife.” He seemed genuine, I felt gobsmacked.

“I’m sorry, but you got the wrong person. I’m not a medium.”

“What are you then?”

“A student nurse.”

“What about these powers to conjure up lions?”

“What lions and what powers are these then?”

“You’ve seen the press, The Lion Woman of Barbury’.”

“I have no control of what they print in the press. I have no control over any lions either. It’s Joy Adamson you want, but you’ll need a good medium to speak to her as well. If you don’t mind I’m going.”

He stood up and rushed between me and the door. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry, I haven’t put things very well.”

“I think you’ve put things perfectly clearly. I am not a medium, I am not the Lion King or any other bloody animal trainer. I am a rather pissed off student nurse.”

“Please stay, just for a few more minutes. Please tell me what Beryl said to you.”

“She has not spoken to me. I spoke to her when she came as she said she would. I just sent her off to the light, a thing my gran used to do with any dead people she saw.”

“So this trait runs in the family?”

“Yes, but it isn’t about talking to the dead. I see them they go, I don’t see them again as a rule. Sometimes they speak to me in passing, but that’s it. No great revelations or words of comfort for the bereaved. If your wife had things she needed to tell you, she would appear to you. Not me. She has no interest in me, nor do I in her. Sorry if that sounds callous, it isn’t meant to be. It’s just the way it is.”

I could see the tears form in his eyes. Then they began to drip off his nose. He was a broken man. I felt absolutely rotten, but I told my truth as I saw it.

“There are some hankies in the bedside cupboard top drawer, she said not to use the coloured ones they’ll make your nose sore.” Oh shit, now what do I do?

“I knew you could do it. I’ve seen lots of patients with schizoid tendencies who felt they were psychics, but you are the real thing.” His smile went from ear to ear and he was crying with pleasure. How do I get into these situations?

Once more I got the sense of a message for him, “She says that she must go and continue her journey. She will come back once more on one condition?”

“Anything? Just name it.” He was pleading with me.

“You must do all you can to deal with your grief and move on. Your job on earth is to heal damaged minds. If you try to end your life prematurely again you will never ever see or hear from her again. Do you understand?”

“Yes he said. When will she come back to see me?”

“When you are ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you must know!”

“Why, I’m only the bloody messenger. But I get the impression she meant she will appear to you directly.”

“Yes, but when?”

“I don’t know, read my lips. I do not bloody well know!”

“Thank you for your help, I much appreciate it.”

“Look I’m pleased that you got what you wanted. But I must go now.”

“Yes of course. I’ll call you a taxi.” He made the short phone call for a cab. Then he rushed into the bedroom. “Please accept this, we don’t have any children and I know Beryl would have wanted you to have it.” He pushed a small jewel case into my hand. I opened it, but he snapped it back shut. “No peeping, just accept it in the spirit in which it is given.” When I hesitated, he pushed it back into my hands, “Please.” The bell rang and I went through the door, he rushed ahead pushed a twenty pound note into the drivers hand and instructed him to deliver me safely.

When I got home, I dumped the jewel case on my chest of drawers as the phone was ringing. It was John.

“Hi princess. It’s so good to speak to you again.”

“Good evening sir knight, it is good to converse with you again. ”I joked back. I was so pleased I could not describe it in mere words, but my whole body ached for him. While I didn’t know if that was a sexual thing or not, I just longed to be with him.

I couldn’t believe we spoke for two hours, but my ear was getting numb. Then he dropped the bombshell. “Look, I have to go off again.”

“What? So soon again! It’s not fair.”

“I know that princess, but it’s my job. I have to go. Just for a week or two at the most.”

“It sounds a rotten job to me.” I was now crying down the phone.

“Sometimes it is princess, but it’s what they pay me for. I shall call around tomorrow for an hour at seven. Be there.” With that he rang off.

I cried myself to sleep awaking with the light still on. Or it felt like it. I opened my eyes, which were puffy and sore from crying and stuck together, so it took me a moment to focus in the bright light. I suddenly realised it wasn’t an electric light I was seeing, but an fantastic blue-white light coming from my chest of drawers. Gathering my wits, I got off the bed and walked towards the source of this seemingly magical illumination. It was the neglected jewel case, inside I could see, because it was open, a beautiful pearl necklace and matching drop earrings. As I picked them up so the light gradually faded. I said a thank you out loud. I now knew that they were mine to wear, the original owner having given her consent. I felt cold and my goose bumps were massive, I began to shiver. Taking the case with me I went back to bed. It was a precious gift which I would treasure, and put in the office safe first thing.

The next morning I wrote to Dr Fellowes to thank him for his gift, I also told him briefly about what had happened in the night. I posted the letter on the way to the hospital office and deposited my new treasure in their safe.

I got back to my room after a day that just dragged and dragged. I showered and changed into something casual but tidy. I didn’t bother with any makeup but I did spritz a bit of eau de toilette about myself. It was half six, half an hour to wait for my knight in shining armour. I had waited all day for this meeting, this tryst, so why did I have horrible feelings about it?

I tried to crystallise my feelings, to ascertain where they were on my body or what they felt like, then perhaps I could deal with them. The one person I did not want to feel negative about was John, but there was something I began to dread about this evening. I paced back and fore for a few minutes, then suddenly thought to check my mobile. There was the reason for my pessimism. “@ airport, project moved 4ward. Did try to call. Really sorry. C U in 2 weeks. Luv J. XXXX” 

At that moment I despised the army. How could it keep doing things like this to me? If John loved me, how could he keep dashing off like he did? I felt so angry, it was as if just as my life was coming together so something would pull the rug out from under my feet and I’d end up on my bottom again. It was all so unfair! I stamped around my room, then flung myself on the bed and howled like a demented werewolf. I began to think things couldn’t get any worse, when somebody knocked at my door.

I had to stop crying and listen for a moment. Was I mistaken? No there it was again. Could it be John? Was Father Christmas alive and well after all? I rapidly dried my eyes after bathing them in cold water, shouting, “I’m coming” I rushed to the door. As I opened it there was a blinding flash, which left me seeing just green after-images for a moment or two, a voice I didn’t recognise said, “Hello Miss Curtis, I’m Aaron Moseley from the Barbury Echo, can I have a word with you?”

I was so astonished, I simply stood there probably doing a good impression of a goldfish. “What about?” my marbles were beginning to come back together.

“Bennie’s Niteclub ring any bells for you?”

“No, does it for you?” I replied and began to close the door.

He stuck his foot in the door which prevented me from closing it. “Look, this won’t take long and you can either tell me what happened or I’ll just carry on making things up, you know, ‘Lion Woman’ and that sort of stuff.”

“Why should I help you?” I was now very anxious, perhaps it was just as well John was away – in case they find out about you know what! Oh Christ, surely this isn’t happening. I’ll wake up in a minute to find it’s all a bad dream. Please God.

“Miss Curtis, all I want is a few quotes and a photo and I’ll leave you in peace. Promise, cubs honour and all that.”

“If I do talk to you, I want someone else here.” I said racking my brains as to whom I could contact.

“Fine by me.” he chirpily responded.

“I need to think for a few minutes. Let me close the door.”

He removed his foot and I shut the door quickly. Who could I call? It had to be Sheila Brice, who else was there? There was no one else.

I called her mobile number and got her voice mail. Oh no. I left her a frantic message. I suddenly realised I was all alone. Despite my supposed guardian angel, I was now alone and in great danger. I didn’t know what to do, I really didn’t. I knew enough of newspapers not to believe anything they said, and that any quote I made could be used against me. This was awful. I was on the verge of bursting into tears of the most desolate sort, when the phone rang.

“Hello.” I almost whimpered down it.

“You alright Jamie?” It was Sheila.

“I have the press camped outside my door and they managed at least one photo.”

“Who is it?”

“The Barbury Echo.”

“Tell them to wait, I’ll be right over. See you in ten.” She’d obviously got my message. Perhaps there was a god after all, but then if there was, did he get some buzz out of seeing me down before he put the boot in?

I told the reporter they’d have to wait a few more minutes, he seemed happy with it. He would feel far less happy in those few minutes when Sheila Brice arrived and did her impression of World War 3 in Knickers! She was busy driving as fast as she could and running on pure indignation, plus the added energy created by the way she was going to deal with whoever let the press in to the nurse’s home. Firing squad would be too quick, unless she got to torture them first, to extract the confession signed in blood. It would certainly be a chargeable offence as they had been told categorically not to do exactly what someone had done. Someone would pay, she would make sure of that.

Just as she decided about how she would investigate the breach of security, she started to leave the traffic lights as they turned green. She failed to see the young man driving the old Vauxhall Astra. He arrived late at the other lights and did not stop at the red one.

 

since 11/23/04