WE KNEW, BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN—PAY NO ATTENTION

 

 

We both ordered muffins and vanilla soya milk and I carried our tray to the first empty table that I spotted. “I was wondering if you’d like to try chicken or seafood. I’m sure I can smuggle something for you at the reception tonight.”

Kathy reflected for a moment before answering, “Sure. Why not? I’m not supposed to, but I don’t see how they’ll find out if we’re careful. And sweets too! Gooey chocolates if possible, anything scrumptious that you can get your hands on.”

Between the two of us, we polished off five oversized muffins and I knew that I could hold out well until suppertime at the hotel. Time dragged that day even with a second visit from Keith and his carer, who looked to be about the same age as his case. The carer, Donald, was about as bland as a clone can be, a classic clone, a textbook clone, a perfect clone: awkward, self-effacing, physically strong and sluggish. I had to control myself not to be rude to him. Everything about him got on my nerves.

A medical team stopped by to inform Keith that he had to undergo some routine tests and Keith and Donald were escorted out of Kathy’s room. It was still early, not even mid-afternoon, but I decided to change back into my evening outfit and dress my hair. The chignon we managed to pull off was a little low and messy, but Kathy assured me that it looked casually elegant. “You must be so excited,” Kathy stated.

“I’m nervous, but I’m too tired to be excited. All this anticipation is making for a very long day. And, in the pit of my stomach, deep now, I feel nothing. It’s a very strange kind of nothing, a premonitory sense of defeat. I mean really, Kath, what’s the point?”

She didn’t answer and we were pretty quiet for the remainder of the afternoon. Finally, it was time to leave. “I’m going to leave my boots here, Kath. They’re too manky to wear. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

“But Sunday’s your day off.”

“So what? I’ll want to tell you all about my evening and bring you a doggy bag. I’ll show up some time in the morning. Wish me luck.”

We embraced each other. I was pleased to feel that she had more flesh on her bones, pleased yet uneasy. I had plans for Kathy, and they didn’t involve her succumbing to a completion donation.’

When I reached the lobby, I had to decide whether to hail a taxi or walk to the hotel. I would have preferred to walk, but I was afraid that I would ruin my pretty shoes in slush banks. My stylish coat would keep me warm enough, though, and hailing a taxi was an ordeal for clones. Drivers didn’t necessarily accept us as customers. I chose to walk and my feet did get very wet. By the time I reached the hotel, my shoes were discoloured with sludge, but I instructed my eyes to ignore them.

And then I saw Joe looking so glamorous in his charcoal grey dinner jacket platinum bow tie. He escorted me to the coat check where he wanted me to leave my large, unsightly handbag. “It ruins the goddess effect, Sophie. Trust me, you won’t be needing it.”

“But I want to steal some food for Kathy, my case. Where will I put it.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll figure something out. You look stunning, by the way, simply breathtaking.”

And then it was all awhirl. There were dozens and dozens of beautiful dressed others in a huge, bedazzling reception hall. Chandeliers sparkled. There was a fountain of endlessly cascading champagne in the centre of one table. Other tables displayed ice sculptures of swans, castles and one magnificent unicorn. A group of musicians played their instruments mutedly on a small, circular stage in the middle of the hall. The opulence didn’t strike me as vulgar. I felt as though I had stepped into a scene in a fairy tale. Everything seemed magical and entirely unreal.

Joe grabbed my hand and fairly dragged me over to a knot of excited people. I recognized Conrad and the plump woman dressed in white taffeta, feathers, tulle, lace and sequins must have been his bride, Nancy. She had beautiful black hair and a creamy complexion but to my eyes, she looked absolutely ridiculous, an overstuffed waterfowl. Joe introduced me to her, but she managed nothing more than a thin, strained smile, but Conrad was effusive. “Sophie, you are exquisite. My mate Joe is the luckiest man here!” Nancy’s eyes flashed daggers at her husband, and I wondered why these two had tied the knot with each other. But I didn’t have long to wonder. The musicians broke into a rock number from the 60s and Joe whisked me on to the designated dance floor. I had seen enough music videos to know how to dance freestyle rock without looking completely ludicrous. After two or three dances, I realized with a jolt that for the first time in my life, I was having what was called ‘fun.’ My body seemed to know exactly what it was doing. The music was so excitingly loud that I felt it under my skin.

Then Joe led me to one of the identically adorned round tables. Three couples were already seated. Everyone was middle-aged. Two of the women, wives I was almost certain, were wearing silver dresses, the third was bedecked in gold. Joe introduced me to everyone as his ‘lovely tenant Sophie.’ No one gawked at me, but neither did they try to talk to me, so it was pretty much as though Joe and I were alone, which suited me fine.

It turned out to be a long evening. I drank a lot of wine and chose chicken over steak as my main. The meal dragged on as various courses were served with long gaps between. The food struck me as bland and past its prime, not nearly as tasty as what the Golds and Joe had cooked in their homes. The music was the best part of the evening, the speeches the worst.

When I excused myself to use the ladies’ restroom, I noted my flushed cheeks in the wall-to-wall mirror. I examined my face with as much brutal honesty as I could muster, and my conclusion was surprising. I didn’t look like curdled milk; I looked much more like crème fraiche, a young slightly drunk female with pretty features, smooth skin and bright eyes. I was tipsy and unsure as to why Joe had chosen me to be his date. His behaviour, although gentlemanly, was a tad detached, but that hardly bothered me. Something about his behaviour, however, was making me uneasy but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He wasn’t in a talkative mood, but then again the music was blaring for much of the evening, so I couldn’t fault him for his prolonged spells of silence.

Toward the end of the meal, he told me, “Soon they’ll be wheeling out the sweet tables. I’ll speak to one of the servers about putting together a box for you. I’m quite knackered; otherwise, I would gladly escort you home. Don’t worry, though, I’ll call a taxi for you. You won’t have to walk home in those minimalist dancing slippers.”

When the sweet tables were fully set up, many guests swarmed around them to admire the extravagant platters and bowls. I was among them, and Joe was at my side. I scanned the offerings and told Joe, “I’ll want a lot of cheese with crackers, and the individual chocolates and the cashews and maybe some of those fancy biscuits.” Joe listened attentively. He looked both interested and amused. He snapped his fingers at a server who nodded seriously at what Joe was saying. In a few minutes, Joe placed a fair-sized box tied with a silver ribbon in my hands. “Consider this your surprise box, My Pretty. I’m going to say good night to Conrad and his bride. Meet me in front of the cloakroom.”

I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to say anything to anyone. I was off the hook. I carried my box out of the hall and realised that I was too tired to feel awkward or embarrassed. So what if I was the only clone in the hotel? It didn’t matter a fig. These others, it’s not as though they were immortal or anything. And while the quality of their lives might be a whole lot better than ours, the quality of who they were wasn’t. That belief had registered in my brain during the evening, and I refused to shake it loose.

Joe apologised to me as he helped me into my chocolate coat. “I’m sorry I was boring company, Sophie. The music was giving me a bloody headache. I wasn’t myself. I swear I’ll make it up to you if you’ll give me the chance.”

“Of course, I will. I drank too much, too fast, and that messed me up a little. So you see, I wasn’t exactly sparkling company myself. No worries.”

If I had to choose one word to describe my wedding date with Joe, that word would have to be ‘disappointing.’ And that is what I told Kathy the following day when we had elevenses in the cafeteria. I hadn’t bothered to wash up after sleeping briefly and fitfully on top of my blanket. I hadn’t even managed to remove my stained ballerina flats. I was sure I was going to vomit, but nothing came up. My head was spinning and I had the heave-ho’s, but I could neither heave nor ho and I didn’t know how I was going to navigate my hungover legs to Windmere. Somehow I managed to change into a heavy wool skirt and a green cardigan. I suspected my face was a similar shade to the sweater.

When I presented her with the box of sweets, she untied the ribbon very delicately and exclaimed, “How pretty this is. I’m going to save it for my hair.”

We were still in her room, sitting on her bed when she popped chocolate after chocolate into her mouth, commenting on each one. “Mint. Nice and cool. Cherry. Soft and sweet. Almond. A little hard and bitter. Caramel. Gooey and scrummy.”

“You’re quite the pro. And here I thought you would be tasting the first chocolates in your life.”

“Heavens no. At Hailsham, we were given boxes of chocolates on very special occasions. My favourites were always the caramel.”

Once in the cafeteria, Kathy began questioning me in earnest, but I didn’t have much to say.

“Was the bride beautiful? Did she throw her bouquet?”

“No and I don’t know. She’s not pretty at all, this Nancy girl. She looked like a smashed cupcake. If she threw her bouquet, it would have been after I left.”

“What was the food like?”

“Old and rubbery. It was very disappointing. In fact, pretty much everything about the evening was disappointing. Joe and I hardly spoke to each other and he seemed preoccupied and upset. I think he may have been brooding about his wife.”

“Was there anything lovely about the evening?”

“The banquet hall was beautifully decorated. The main colour was silver. The linen was silver. There were enchanting ice sculptures. And there was one very charming moment.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Early in the evening, soon after we sat down at our table, the bride and groom began dancing. Well, that wasn’t anything to write home about; believe me. Conrad’s tall and dishy and Nancy’s short and squat, so they weren’t exactly eye candy. But midway through the song, what a beautiful song. Its name is on the tip of my tongue. It’s a slow, sad song. Anyway, midway through it, the parents of the bride and groom started to dance. Nancy’s parents were sweet enough, but it was Conrad’s parents that captured my attention. She had silver hair and was wearing a simple silver suit and pumps. Her lips were painted a sweet cherry red. Her husband was as slender as she was, and even taller and they danced beautifully together. They fit perfectly, like the final two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. It was a pleasure and a pain to watch them.”

“And you weren’t able to get anything out of Joe?”

“Not a thing. As I said, we didn’t say more than a few words to each other the entire evening. I think we’ll be able to sort it out. I’m not worried, at least, not yet.”

“Let’s go back to the room, Sophie. I’d like to offer Keith some nuts and sweets.”

We stopped by Keith’s room and found him sitting on his bed in what I believe is called the lotus position. Kathy laughed, “Meditating, are we? Where did you learn how to do that?”

Keith returned the laughter. “On the meditation channel, of course. I’ve fired Donald, by the way. I’ve requested that he not be replaced. I want to be on my own. I never wanted to be a carer, so why should I willingly have one?”

I was aghast. “But that’s never been done before. Every donor has a carer. That’s strict policy.”

Keith disagreed, “Not any longer. The guidelines manual is being revised as we speak, but with all the budget cuts, the hospitals, recovery centers and hospices are grateful when a donor requests not to have a carer.”

We invited Keith into Kathy’s room for the still fresh wedding reception treats, but he declined. Kathy asked me, “I’m knackered, Sophie. I’m going to tuck myself in for a little nap. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. But Kathy, may I join you. I’d like nothing more than to catch a few winks.”

Kathy patted the mattress as a sign for me to join her, and we adjusted our slight bodies to accommodate each other. Kathy nudged the pillow so that the back of my head could lie on it, but I turned sidewise and put my arms around her. Her hair was fragrant and her inhalations and exhalations were very comforting. I fell into the sweetest sleep of my life. I pretended that we were sisters in a narrow boat adrift in foreign waters, dangerous waters but were safe as long as we clung to each other.

A nurse I hadn’t seen before awoke us kindly. “Sorry, Pets, but Kathy has to have a few samples of blood drawn and then she has a doctor’s appointment. You can wait for her here if you like.”

Kathy protested, “No. Sophie, this is supposed to be your day off. You must have oodles of things to do. Thank you for visiting me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We kissed each other good-bye. The new nurse seemed to raise an eyebrow, but not maliciously. I felt groggy as I made my way toward the lift. In front of it, there was a scrum of personnel, but they didn’t appear to be waiting for it. They were in a deeply animated discussion, and their voices were raised though apparently not in anger. I tried to make sense of the phrases I could catch:

“Half of us are being made redundant. What could that mean?”

“Rumours, just rumours.”

“I heard there was a lockout at Clanranald and another one at Snowdon. I heard Windmere will be next.”

“You’re off your trolley!”

“How can there be a referendum if we don’t understand what the issues are?”

“Bloody hell! We’d best get a hold of the ombudsman and suss out what’s going on.”

The lift arrived and I stepped inside without being noticed. I had to speak to Joe. I had to ask him some urgent questions. If he pretended not to know what I was talking about, I would break my lease and disappear with the Golds. And I would beg them to allow Kathy to join me. I didn’t exactly have a plan, but neither did I not have one. Betwixt and between. That is what my grotty little life had become.

It had turned into a blustery day. My mouth tasted rancid and my legs were wobbly. I realised that my hangover hadn’t run its course. The charming Christmas trees were now overshadowed by harsh slogans in a cacophony of colours and typesets. Their messages were disquietingly ambiguous. They appeared on shop windows and street posts and overrode all semblance of seasonal cheer:

      

I decided to stop by Joe’s flat. But first, I would use the loo in my new place. The pressure on my bladder had become sharply distracting. I hoped I hadn’t come down with an infection; I was prone to those. As I walked north on St. Luke, I saw the beefy sisters packing items into large cardboard boxes. I found that peculiar considering that it was well past 1 pm.

“Working late today?” I asked them.

“Aye, we laid in this morning, so we put in a few extra hours,” the ‘younger’sister told me. “Would you like to do a little rummaging, dearie?”

“Next time. I’m a little under the weather today; all these clashing signs with mysterious messages are getting to me. Tell me, do you know when they were put up?”

“Sorry, love, I can’t say that I do,” the older sister said. “Pay no attention; that’s my motto. They’ll be taken down and replaced by some other bit of tosh before you know it.” The sisters resumed packing up their flea market merchandise. Their hands and legs were bare, rough and red, and they were both coughing in rasping barks.