The Professionals Circuit Archive - A Hopeless Case	    A Hopeless
Case

 

by O Yardley

  
 I was feeling pretty ropy when we left the pub, but as I settled into the
passenger seat of his car, I realized Ray had been keeping a closer watch
on me than I'd thought from the way he and Grete seemed to be eyeing each
other all evening. I wanted to make some sort of protest, and to tell him
not to bother about me, that Murphy'd see I got home safely. But we were
already out on the main road before I'd sorted the thought out from
various aches and pains that kept wanting my attention. My head ached and
I still felt vaguely sick, and being thoroughly selfish, I didn't want
Murphy around - I wanted Ray. 

Being partners for three years meant we hadn't many illusions left about
each other. You can't keep up the cool, he-man bit when you both know
you've come bloody close to shitting yourselves from sheer fright. Mind
you, I'd tried, and so had he in his own way. The first year was often
difficult while we tried to keep up the various pretenses. 

But we were past that now, comfortable with each other. We could let the
images slip a bit without losing respect for each other, or ourselves. 

I wanted to say some of this but whatever the painkillers were they'd
given me, they'd slowed me right down. When they'd agreed to let me out of
hospital after twenty-four hours, I'd promised them faithfully I'd take it
easy for a few days more, but both Ray and I - and probably the doctor -
had known I couldn't stand to stop indoors as long as I was reasonably
mobile. At least I'd been good and stayed off the alcohol since it doesn't
mix well with painkillers. 

Never let anyone tell you a dislocated shoulder isn't painful. I'd never
passed out in my life before - the broken wrist was nothing. And that
reminded me - I looked at the time. 

"This bloody thing isn't even accurate," I complained disgustedly. "It's
over an hour slow." 

"Nah." I could hear the grin in Ray's voice even though I wasn't looking
his way. "Guaranteed to a second, that is. Works on krypton or summink." 

"Well, look for yourself." I held my left wrist up. "It says quarter to
ten." 

"That's about right." 

"A quarter to ten?" I did turn my head then in spite of the agony it
caused. I'd thought it was closing time when we left and I was faintly
shocked at the idea of being seen going home to bed before ten o'clock. 

Ray chuckled - the little bugger knows my thought processes far too well
these days - but I'd seen through him. "You told me it was closing time,"
I said with great dignity (well, as great as I could manage over a
headache that was splitting my skull in two and a shoulder that felt as
though a herd of elephants had been using it for a trampoline), "so that
you could dump me in my cold and lonely flat and get back to a hot 'n
hungry bird." 

Honestly, sometimes you could rake his laugh round your rose bushes! There
were several replies I could think of to that dirty chuckle, but I hadn't
decided on which one when I saw his face gazing at me through the side
window and realized we'd stopped outside my place. "Must've dropped off,"
I said apologetically. 

"Yeah. Come on, mate. We can't stay out here all night." 

I eased myself out of the car as delicately as I'd handle a royal baby. I
wasn't planning on going anywhere in a hurry tonight, not even bed. Slow
and easy, that was the idea. 

As I stood outside the door, it was brought home to me how difficult life
is when you've suddenly only got one serviceable arm. The nurse had put my
keys in my right-hand pocket and I couldn't for the life of me see how I
was going to get them out. I didn't exactly relish the idea of asking Ray
to do it, either, but I couldn't see a way out. I explained the problem. 

Just as I'd known I would, I flinched as soon as his hand slid into my
pocket, but I stifled whatever sound was going to come out and ended up
sounding like a sparrow with a cold. I saw Ray give me a sharp and very
odd look, and stared back as blandly as I could. Let him think what he
bloody-well liked. He could think I fancied him for all I cared, just so
long as he never found out I've got the most ticklish hip-bones this side
of Watford. 

He opened the door and ushered me in. I held my hand out for the keys.
"I'll put 'em on your chest-of-drawers," he said, following me in. "Go on,
get in before you fall down." 

He was in the sitting-room before I began my protest, so I shut the door
and went through after him. I made for the kitchen and a glass of water: I
hate taking pills without. I thought I'd put the phial in my top pocket,
but I couldn't find them until a hand come over my shoulder holding two
tablets. 

"You'd never get the top off tonight," Ray told me. "It'll be a day or two
before you can use that right arm much, you know." 

If I didn't know, I'd guessed. I poured myself a glass of water,
exasperated at the number of extra moves you have to make doing things
one-handed: put glass down, turn tap on, pick glass up, fill it, put it
down, turn tap off, put pills in mouth, pick glass up. You get the
picture. I decided to leave rinsing it until I felt stronger. 

"Come on." Ray was behind me, an arm round my waist, leading me out of the
kitchen and towards the bedroom. I didn't need an escort and I said so,
rather forcibly. 

There was a look of sheer, evil delight in those pale, pond-scum eyes when
he confronted me. "How're you gonna undress then, superman?" 

Since I hadn't planned on taking off more than my shoes and jacket, the
problem wasn't going to arise. In any case, taking it slowly I knew I
could manage on my own, if I wanted. Only, my evil genius persuaded me it
might be fun to see just how far Ray would go in looking after me. 

I managed a pathetic expression - not easy when you want to grin - and
said, "Actually, I'm dying for a pee." 

Not even mildly fazed, he said practically, "Well, you can have one as
soon as we get you stripped off," and proceeded to lay his hands on the
pins in my sling. 

Keeping my mouth very firmly shut, I let him take my sling, jacket and
shirt off. I must give him his due, he was as gentle as a mother - a damn
sight more gentle than some nurses that I've known; they can be
cold-hearted bitches at times, I've discovered. Even so, I was sweating by
the time he'd done and though I wouldn't have admitted it even to Ray, my
legs were beginning to shake. 

He didn't say anything, just looked at me, brushed a finger slowly down
the side of my mouth and then said, "You're wonderful Technicolor." 

He was right. My right arm and shoulder were a symphony in blues and
purples by now, swollen so it looked as if I was wearing a balloon under
the skin. I shrugged and immediately wished I hadn't. Ray grabbed me by
the waistband, steadying me. 

"That was a damn-fool thing to go and do," he said shortly. 

"Yeah." 

I was too busy fighting waves of sickness to notice he'd got my cords
undone and half-way down my legs until he nudged at me to step out of
them. I did so obediently, steadying myself with my left hand on his
shoulder. When he reached for my underpants, I stopped him. "Those," I
told him curtly, "I take off." 

"Go on, then." He sat back on his heels, grinning and staring at my
mid-section with as much anticipation as if he'd just switched on for Miss
World. 

It took a long time to inch them down one-handed with every muscle
protesting every move, but I made it. And I made the most of it, too,
wincing artistically with every twitch. By the time I'd finished, he'd
stopped grinning and was frowning in sympathy. I'd've been pleased with
myself if I hadn't had a lowering suspicion it had been easier to act hurt
than it would have been to act normally. 

Of course, I had to catch my toe as I stepped out of the bloody things. I
really let out a yell of fright when I thought I was going to fall on that
shoulder but - bless him - Ray was there to catch me, both arms going
round my waist and holding me up. 

You've no idea how wonderful it felt, being held securely by him like
that, and I told him so as I hung on tightly to that mop head pressed
against my stomach. 

To my surprise, he looked away as he got to his feet, told me not to be a
bloody fool and go and have my pee. 

Feeling distinctly shaky, I went off suitably chastened, not even in a
mood to protest when he followed me and leant against the door jamb,
waiting. Then he took the cap off the toothpaste for me, replaced it (a
nicely brought up fella, Ray Doyle) and refused my request for a shower. 

"You can bathe tomorrow," he said, filling the basin and handing me my
flannel. "I know you, if I let you shower, you'll get that plaster soaking
wet." 

I wasn't really arguing, but I splashed a little water round us as I
washed to show my independence. Just as well he'd taken that white jacket
off before he started the ministering angel bit. He was looking distinctly
irritated by the time I'd requested him to do the places I couldn't reach
with my left hand... and then made him dry them as well. 

Smiling my best and most charming smile, I trotted into the bedroom, let
him turn back the duvet and got into bed very, very gingerly so's not to
cause even the slightest twinge. 

It's amazing how impossible it can be to lie down sometimes. I swallowed
hard, several times. I didn't really think I was going to throw up, but I
desperately didn't want to. I didn't like to think what it would do to my
shoulder and I hate to be sick in company, too. Even when I was young, I
always locked my mother out of the bathroom. 

I could hear Ray fussing around a bit, picking things up and so on, but he
seemed to be taking an awful long time about it. I opened one eye to see
why he wasn't rushing off to go back to Grete and found he was just taking
off his tee-shirt. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked stupidly. 

He lowered his arms, looked down at me owlishly and said kindly, "It's
called undressing." 

"What for?" No, I know. My brain really wasn't working that night. 

"Because," he said in the bright sort of voice Joyce Grenfell used to use
to talk to small children, "I'm going to bed." 

If you thought I'd already qualified for stupid question of the week, you
were wrong. "Here?" I asked. 

"Or on the sofa," he conceded. "I don't want to make your shoulder worse."


Well, I'd slept with Ray before a couple of times, and my sofa really is
too short and narrow unless you're under five feet and built like Olga
Korbut. What I didn't understand was why it should suddenly be different,
why I wanted Ray close with quite such intensity. Maybe I'd been more
shaken up than I knew. I grunted and closed my eyes again. He knew what I
meant though, and when he came back again from his shower, climbed in
beside me very, very carefully. I barely had time to notice his presence
before I was asleep. 

When I woke up, I felt much better. So much better, it was like being a
different person. You know the feeling? Sort of new-minted, fresh and
ready for anything. 

Ray on the other hand looked distinctly bleary-eyed. "Well, I couldn't
sleep, could I?" he said protestingly. "I was terrified in case I rolled
over and hurt you." 

"Aaah," I said with false sympathy, propping myself up a bit on my good
arm so I could see him properly. He just looked at me. 

I looked back - really looked at him, I mean, seeing things I'd never
noticed before like the slightly wistful look about his mouth and its
clearly-defined outline. Suddenly, I wanted to touch that mouth, bend
close to it... 

I gulped a bit, wondering if my crazy thought had shown on my face and
said the first thing that came into my head. "Why did you touch me last
night?" 

"Touch you?" Ray tried to look unselfconscious. "What do you mean, you
bloody idiot? I undressed you." 

"No - like this." I drew my left index finger down the side of his mouth. 

His eyes dropped and lifted again. "You'd gone white there." 

I grinned. "Kissing it better, were you?" My heart was pounding like a
trip hammer, but I wouldn't ask it why. 

Ray shook his head. "When I kiss you, you'll know..." 

"When?" I demanded evilly. 

He blinked. "If... I said if." 

I shook my head. "When," I confirmed. "So - when's it going to be?" 

The moment seemed to stretch - I don't suppose it was more than a few
seconds, really, but our eyes had sort of got locked and we could neither
of us look away. 

"How about now?" I heard the words - didn't even realize I had spoken them
until I was moving forwards and his head was turning to meet mine, a sort
of mute agony in his eyes as they closed. I wanted to cry as our lips met,
his so soft and shaking just a bit, but not quite drawing away, and yet, I
wanted to laugh and sing at the same time. I still can't quite believe I
had the courage to do it but, believe me, I'm glad I did. I don't regret
it for an instant - not any of it. 

He was very easy to kiss, so I went on doing it for a long time. He was
the first to draw away. 

"Don't hurt yourself," he said worriedly. 

"Hurt myself?" I laughed shakily. "The ceiling could have caved in just
now and I don't think I'd've noticed." 

We lay back again, just looking at one another. I was still trying to let
my thoughts catch up with what my body was doing but it was awfully
difficult while my body kept thinking up new things it wanted to do. 

Eventually, I said, "Ray, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" 

He swallowed and gave me a sort of sideways look without being
discouraging. "What are you thinking?" 

I had to say it now. "I want you to make love to me." 

I heard him catch his breath and I added quickly, "Actually, I rather
desperately want to make love to you, but I've a feeling I'm not quite up
to that at the moment." 

He didn't laugh as I was still half afraid he would, nor did he argue or
protest. He just came slowly closer to my left side, rolled over and
tucked his left leg over my thigh, his knee brushing my groin. 

Sensation washed through me. I was dizzy, suffocating in a breathless
delight. I tried to reach out to him, moaned my frustration as my shoulder
protested painfully, and his free arm went round me. 

"Don't try and move. Let me do the work," he said huskily. 

"Not work," I said muzzily as his mouth caught mine again, muffling the
words. "Not work, pleasure," I gasped out as he let me go again minutes
later. I wouldn't have believed one's mouth could taste so good when he'd
just woken up. The touch of his tongue stroking at mine had sent another
lance of glorious wanting through me. I jerked at my left hand, trapped
underneath us and he understood, shifting up far enough to let me get it
free. 

"Oh, god, Ray, love me." 

I've always been glad our first loving had to be gentle. We'd both been
holding back on this for so long, either consciously or otherwise,
flaunting our ability to pull the birds and maintain our macho image. If
we hadn't been forced into taking it slowly, we might well have destroyed
each other's trust in the first half-hour of letting go. As it was, we
made love euphorically, his hand on my body, his own hardness pressed
against my thigh and my one usable hand caressing his buttocks, fondling,
encouraging. 

We lay in a comfortable bundle of sweaty stickiness without talking for
what felt like ages, just clinging for mutual comfort and reassurance and
then I said, "Why the hell have we waited so long, Ray?" 

"I wasn't sure you wanted it before," he said quietly. 

"I didn't know I did." Then into the long pause I said, "Did you?" 

"I've known a long time." 

There was such a quietness about him I felt myself melting, a sweet aching
in my chest and gut, an exquisite tenderness. I'd been so thick about
this, so blind to my needs and I wanted to make it up to him somehow. 

"Ray," I said, and I knew I was shaking and I didn't care, "Ray, I want to
say all sorts of stupid things, idiotic, sentimental, rubbishy things. D'
you want to listen?" 

I felt his smile against my shoulder. "Of course." 

So I said it all, all the words of love and commitment and the promises
for the future that I'd been saving up all my life. I never knew they'd be
given to a curly-headed, evil-minded, obnoxious, bad-tempered, sensual and
wonderful little bugger like Ray. And he didn't even chuckle, just lay and
held me tighter and tighter until I could hardly breathe and then he
kissed me gently and said, "Me too." 

I was disappointed and said so. "Is that the best you can do?" 

His eyes glinted. "When my bladder's this full, yes." 

But he didn't move and eventually I said uneasily, "I thought you wanted a
pee." 

"Getting worried are we?" 

"Well, it is my bed." 

"Our bed," he corrected. 

You know, that was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to me.
Shocked that I had got that deep into mushiness, I pushed him away. 

"Go and have your pee and run me a bath," I said firmly. "I'm going to get
up now and you'll have time to do both before I actually arrive in the
bathroom. I'll need lots of looking after so I can get better quickly and
make wild passionate love to you." 

He slanted a crocked grin at me as he clambered out of bed. "That'll be
nice," he agreed. 

We didn't say much during breakfast but we looked at each other an awful
lot and we both kept smiling - not at each other but at our plates, the
sink, each other's back. It must have been hilarious to watch if there had
been anyone privileged to see it, which there wasn't, thank god. I'm not
sure I could have stopped even if Cowley himself had been there. Does love
always get you like that at first? 

Cowley had given Ray a couple of days off to look after me. I accused him
of being over-protective but he promised me the Cow had the idea first and
when I just grinned at him, he had the grace to blush and amend that to
Cowley having said it first. 

It was amazing how comfortable and settled it all was during those couple
of days. We played Scrabble, of all things, drove out into the country and
sat in the car on the South Downs just talking and reveling in being
together. We neither of us thought it was going to be all plain sailing.
We're neither of us that easy to live with for a start, and add that to
the necessity of not making our relationship a field day for the press,
and we could both see the potential for destruction. 

"Cowley'll have to know," Ray said. 

"Yes." I smiled a bit. "He thinks I've got initiative, but I'll bet he
never thought I'd be capable of this." 

"What d' you think he'll say?" 

I shrugged, noted in passing that my shoulder was definitely getting
better and said, "He can only chuck us out." 

"Will you care?" 

"Not if I've got you." Well, I know we were both a bit much but isn't
everybody at first if they're honest? 

On the way back, Ray stopped at his flat to collect some clean clothes,
and when he got back in the car, he handed me a small, flat package. 

I'd been caught before and I stared at this suspiciously. What had the
evil, little sod thought up this time? "Mickey Mouse?" I hazarded. "Puff
the Magic Dragon?" 

He just grinned. "Open it." 

It was a watch, just the same as the one I'd broken. I stared at it. "Did
you buy this?" 

"Yes." He knew what I was getting at. Ray likes to moan about money, but
he has these crazy attacks of generosity as well. 

He was smiling when he said, "I knew I was a hopeless case when I had to
buy it for you to make up for the other one." 

I re-wrapped it carefully. "Let's go home," I said. "I want to say thank
you without getting arrested." 

-- THE END --

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