by Penny Wightwick
Pretty set of pearl gnashers on her. Blonde ponytail, magazine makeup. Sheffield dentists int what they was.
‘Does yer gerra discount?’ I asks.
Frowns, denting her smooth brow. ‘Discount? Er, I don’t think…’
‘On yer own teeth?’
‘No, I just take care of them.’ Flash of that pretty smile again Open nice and wide, now.’
She pokes along the bottom row, the sorry story of me teeth shouted out to the nurse, pain pulsing every nerve in me body. ‘8, missing; 7, occlusal cavity; 6, crown fractured; 5 missing….’
Thank fuck I thought of fresh-mint gum. Her breath April sweet – catch her scent, summat expensive, sharp alongside surgical spirit. Scrubbed mesen in gents on the way, but I’m grained with dirt and shamed of the hamster-cage stink of me.
Last thing Maxie said to me: God’s sake, Jimbo, get them bleeding teeth seen to. OK darling I’m here, aren’t I?
Dentist finishes her inspection, tool clinks on the tray. Steps back to look at me. Hair like a halo from spot-lamp behind her.‘Me teeth are a mess, yeah, yeah. Like them pictures on the baccy.’
‘Smoker?’
‘Smoke, drink, bad diet. They was awright when I were younger. Dentist said I were lucky to have ‘em grow so straight.’
‘But you have to look after them.’ She gives me a mirror to hold to me mouth. Old fashioned silver ladies hand mirror – does nowt to soften the damage revealed.
‘You’ve got a crown missing, a few bits of decay. But right now, the priority is this ugly molar that’s been giving you grief. I can take that out for you today.’
‘Awright,’ I shrug. ‘Pull bugger out. Pain from that tooth is killing.’
She nods at nurse to get jab ready. ‘How did your teeth get so bad?’
I shek me head, long fuckin story, you ant got time, love. ‘Being homeless dun’t help,’ I starts. ‘You drink and smoke to get through, see?’
She nods, like she knows score. She dun’t of course, but they offer treatment for homeless here, so it’s not like she’s never seen owt like it.
‘Just a little scratch,’ she says, needle at ready. Nurse steadies me arm. Can’t be I’m scared of needles!
I flinch as the jab runs deep. But then that bastard pain, what throbs right through yer brain, what only half bottle of whisky can shift, starts to numb up right away. Deep breath for the fuckin magic relief of it. Can you do that for me bleedin heart? No pain worse.
‘Where are you sleeping now, Jimbo?’ She pulls off her surgical gloves, sips at a mug of coffee, rests it on her belly. She’s expecting, din’t clock it afore.
‘Tent,’ I says. ‘Up at camp by river.’
‘Ah, there’s a few of you, aren’t there?’
‘Aye. I were one of first to set up there, see? But I been four year in London, just come back to Sheffield a few month since.’
‘Good thing the camp was still there, then.
I nod her a bad tooth smile. ‘Some bugger nabbed me caravan, though.’
Deep breath. Nose numbing too now. Good hit. Hallam Radio on low, DJ pattering about football derby. Owls fan says goalless draw and new manager would be good result. Bleedin Blades, cocky as owt. Breath.
‘Why did you leave London?’
Me heart thumping against the numb. ‘Broke up with me girlfriend, see?’ Me voice trembling. Breath.
She nods. ‘We’ll give the numbness another few minutes. Just chill for a bit there while I do the paperwork.’
Lay back, lean towards window. White Venetian blinds slicing strips of autumn sky. Flutter of leaves from a beech outside.
It were autumn that time Maxie come to stay, same year we met. Walk through Eccy Park, her hair flaming gold as leaves in low sun. She teks me arm and says how it’ll be cold soon down at camp.
‘Aye,’ I says, ‘nowt a bottle of whisky and a fire won’t sort.’ I smiles at her, me teeth not so rotten then. I could pass for not bad looking in them days.
That’s when she says I can move in with her down London. On a trial base, like. She’s got Coral and the job to think on, but we was early days. Love Shack. Stars in us eyes.
That time, time I first meets Maxie, I were on the up from crash after me mam died. That had took me bad, hitting the booze again, losing me crappy security job, evicted out me crappy bedsit. But when I meets Maxie I wunt sleeping on streets no more. I were teken up by Archer Project, volunteering, getting mesen sorted with the drink, starting up with record stall in the market. Some of the geezers and me set up homeless city, bit of scrap ground down by river. Conjured up some dough for me caravan. I were starting to see me way fo’ward.
Allus fell in love easy. Head over friggin heels. First crash were when me and Chrissie split. She were lass I married aged 18. Where I grew up, in the 70s like, you were straight to steelworks, school a waste of time, wagged much as possible. I were allus on the edge of things, hung out with the few Black kids, got into reggae scene, all that. But you married the girl you got in the club. That’s jest how it were. Then she loses babby, but we stuck at it, I were in love awright, though there were never another babby. Crash come when they closed steelworks. I were 20, nowt to do about it but booze. Closure hit hard on more than a few marriages.
Maxie were gonna marry me. Can’t bear to think of the miracle of it but think it all the time. She were gonna marry me. Oh God help me.
I thought I were outa market, tell truth. Fifty-odd int no age to be pulling. I met Maxie at a reggae dub night down Yellow Arches. Off me tits on smoke and whizz, dancing like a loony at front. Turns and sees her, lights flashing off her red gold hair, slim and pale in little green dress with net strips flicking while she moves. Pumping her water bottle to the bassy beat. Catches me gawping, spellbound. Wide smile pushing the lines under her eyes. Not young, but she gorrit awright. I grins back stupefied, carries on me loopy dancing, she laughs, pokes at me with her water bottle. Most Beautiful Creature on God’s Own Earth – all I can do is loon about, but she laughs some more. End of set she suggests a drink.
She were up staying with a mate forra few days, break from her kid and job in London. She were brought up on Hackenthorpe but ran off down London aged sixteen. Aye, she were E’d up when we met, but we spends next thirty-six hours together so it musta wore off be then. Says she likes me gentleness, the way I never tire of her chatter. Mibbe that were me trick, to put spotlight on her. Next thing she’s inviting me to visit with her down London. I were busting with mix of happiness and fear. Couldn’t be right she wanted me. Not this happy, surely?
Then there were Coral, her kid. Good name forra redhead. Make ginger bold! I were nervous how to be with her, but I got to showing her card tricks, she were eight at the time. That were way into us being mates. She kept on at me to learn her more, practiced the tricks then performed them to her mam. Maxie liked that about me too.
I bleedin loved that kid. She were so smart, I showed her more of me tricks, with the cups and things up me sleeves. One time I done a show for her friend’s party and then she were sold, wanted to learn it all. I says she has to sign up to Magicians’ Code of Honour, which is you never tell no-one how you do the tricks. She loved all that, solemn as owt. Coral’s a good name for a magician, I says, and I learn her me stuff, make her me assistant, proud as punch at her chums’ parties. If me heart weren’t smashed to bits losing Maxie, if there were owt left to brek, it would brek for how I let Coral down.
Maxie’s another whose name suits. She knows it hersen. Shortened it from Maxine. Live to the max, that’s her motto. Works hard, parties hard, loves hard. Awright with me, we had some fucking crazy times, ‘specially when Coral were at her dad’s. But then she’d knuckle down, Coral’s schoolwork, her job with the family support. Scraping for the bills in her one-bedroom flat down Brixton. I were getting mesen sorted. Set up me record stall on the market, did me magic shows. Saved up for next party weekend. Then, Valentine’s day, takes her for a posh meal up West End, and asks her to marry me.
She were gonna marry me. Thought like knife slashing through me. She were gonna marry me.
Crash happened this time when I were beat up down Electric Avenue. Beat up by Black guys, that got to me more than owt. I were defending this scrappy Syrian refugee kid who they reckons were muscling into their territory. Right there on market where I has me record stall, sold a few of them some tunes and all. Hospital patched me up, but I were broke inside mesen. Same old, going for the booze, smoke, ket, owt I could lay hands on.
It’s like I told Coral, the secret of magic – you believes what you wants to see, you sees what you wants to believe. Important stuff happening right there in front of you while you’re looking the other way.
Maxie done her best with me after I were beat up. She’d do owt she could for anyone. Tries to get me to talk, but I were too busy in me paranoid depression, shouting at telly, shouting about owt that proves this world is shit. Fucked up all o’er, forgetting what I’d said I’d do, missing Coral’s school play because I were too smashed. Stopped looking after mesen, that’s when rot really set in with me teeth ‘n’ all. Maxie went for a drink with a bloke she worked with, says they was just colleagues having a bevvy after work, but I were jealous as fuck, made a right performance of that ‘n’ all. Then one time she comes in to find me crashed into her glass fronted bookcase, on the floor in a pool of blood. Hospital patched me up, I missed puncturing me lung by millimetres. Maxie went ape shit. What if Coral comes home from school to find you dead on the floor?
‘Are you all right, love?’ Dentist appears, snapping on her gloves again.
Look up at her, me cheeks are wet. I roar so easy, don’t even notice. Nurse hands me a tissue.
‘Shall we pull that tooth, Jimbo?’
Blow me numb nose. Nod aye at her.
She comes round with the tool, and I yanks me jaws open wide as I can while nurse stuffs cotton wool plugs round me gums.
‘Nice and numb?’ Dentist pokes around the tooth.
Nod again, simple enough to get shot of a tooth.
She gets on with clamping her pliers or whatever round the rotting molar. Feel it creak and I tense up against it, grip the chair arms.
‘Try and relax.’
Close me eyes, breathe. Focus on the radio. That Dido song comes on, All You Want, from album Maxie used to play. We sang along to that bit: All you want…right here in this room….
After I slung mesen through bookcase glass, she made me promise to pack in boozing, but then I sunk so I did nowt at all. She pushed me to do a magic party with Coral, but I got bevvied up for Dutch courage before it. Shouting shit at the kids, no fuckin magic in this fucked up life. That did it with Coral and were final straw for Maxie. It were over, she says. I had to get out, no matter how I pleaded, that were it.
Comes back to Sheffield, right state. Drinking mesen stupid, ringing her and sending all long begging texts, messaging her friends and all. Shattered to pieces from loss of her. Then I got to talking to Coral on Instagram. Maxie flipped at that. Blocked me on her phone, and Coral’s. So, I writes her with photos of when we first got together. Mibbe that were what made her decide to come and see me a few weeks back.
Dentist’s tugging at me tooth for all she’s worth. ‘It’s got a strong root, to say it’s rotten. It doesn’t want to shift, that’s for sure.’
Me and Maxie down by river that last time, getting on a month ago. She clocks how it’s all transforming down there now with yer hipster bars and riverside apartments in old works. I know she sees it won’t be long afore they’re after kicking us off the camp, but we don’t say owt about it. She thanks me for pics, says they fetch up good memories. No regrets, she says. But it’s over. You have to let me go. Let me be. I sits on a bench with me head in me hands and sobs mesen stupid, ‘til she pats me on the back goodbye. Look after yourself. Fuck’s sake, Jimbo. Get them teeth seen to.
The tooth starts to loosen, and dentist gives it one massive tug. ‘Gotcha!’ she shouts, flung back a step from counterforce. Holds tooth in her pliers like a war trophy.
‘Good fuckin riddance,’ I says before nurse stuffs a cotton wadge on the bleeding gap in me gum.
They busy their sens with me notes while I look back to strips of fading dusk in the window. It’ll feel chill after the warmth in here.
Nurse gives me leaflet about aftercare. No drink or smoke for rest of day. Fat chance.
‘We’ve made a start,’ Dentist lass says. ‘We’ll book you an appointment to get going on the fillings, and hygienist to show you tooth care.’
I gets up and shoves mesen into me stinking coat. She strokes her belly, head to one side as I mek for the door.
‘Good luck with babby,’ I says. ‘Treasure every minute, lass.’ Gives her thumbs up as I leaves.
Steps out into cold air, streetlamps flicking on, indigo-grey sky. That other Dido song in me head now, one she sent me with her last message. Hunter. Let me go, it goes. Let me go, Maxie goes.
OK, I says in me last message. I’ll let you go. Brekin apart while I delete her number. Let you go.
Coupla weeks back, I done a stupid thing. Downs a loada paracetamol and whisky. Can’t live without loving yer. Stomach pumped and hospital put me back in touch with Archer Project. One of lads I used to know teks me to his camper parked up by canal. Mashes tea and lets me blub. Books me in with dentist. Face tingling as anaesthetic starts to wear off. Gums is sore, but pain is gone. Pull up me collar against chill. Sniff at rotting leaves and traffic fumes. Cut through little garden front of church, kick at the leaves. Okay, I’ll fuckin let you go. Drag me wasted sen through the next thing, heart shattered and torn. My Lover’s Gone.
One friggin inch at a time, one wrenched rotten tooth at a time.
Penny Frances writes fiction based on her experience and tales of people around her, with short stories published online and in literary magazines. Her debut novel Riding the High Road was published in 2023. Moving from Sheffield to Aberdeenshire in 2023 she feels thoroughly welcomed as a local author active with Mearns Writers and Angus Bookfest. She blogs at https://pennyfrances.wordpress.com/
Photo by Pavel Danilyuk: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-a-dental-chair-6812479/
