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Business as usual by Lilachigh
 
Chp 7 A New Friend
 
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Chapter 7 A new friend



Hospitals late at night were odd places, Agnes Pringle thought, as she hurried down a long corridor towards the exit. Full of people trying to sleep and failing.

She wondered why the authorities dimmed the lights so early. Surely not many people went to bed before ten pm. when they were home? Why should the nurses think they would want to sleep this early in hospital, especially when they had been in bed all day?

Of course, Agnes had to admit the dim lights did make her life easier. It was surprising how often she came across the odd bag of blood on a trolley, waiting to be used, or even discarded when some poor soul had departed this world for good. And you couldn’t call that stealing, could you? The blood didn’t actually belong to anyone at that point. It wasn’t as if she would ever go into a ward and take it off a dispensing pole! Although she had heard of some vampires who did just that.

Agnes quite liked hospitals. She fondly recalled her days in Winchester when she had been quite active in the hospital’s free book service. She’d enjoyed pushing the trolley around from ward to ward, suggesting and advising which volumes the patients would care to read.

Of course, some of the suggestions the men had for what they considered suitable books she ignored. She had been quite disgusted to discover that one of the male helpers had a secret pile on his trolley of – well, she supposed you would have to call them magazines, but they were certainly not full of recipes and helpful hints about what to wear if you were invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace!

Agnes sighed. She missed the friendly chat from the patients, running little errands, making phone calls, helping.

“Hello! Is anyone there?”

Agnes hesitated. The door she had just passed was ajar and the voice from inside sounded soft and weary. Carefully she pushed the handle and went inside. The room was dim, the light over the bed turned to one side.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were a nurse. I’ve been ringing the bell, but I expect they’re all busy with some emergency. I heard screaming just now. Dreadful!”

“You don’t like to be nuisance for them, do you?” Agnes agreed, walking up to the bed. The woman lying there was about her age – well, perhaps a little younger. She looked pale and in pain.

“I was writing a letter and must have fallen asleep for a second. It’s slipped under the bed and I really need to finish it before I – well, before I leave here.”

“Oh – allow me – “

“No, please – ”

But Agnes was already enthusiastically scrambling under the bed, glad that she had on her serviceable brown cord trousers instead of a skirt because it certainly wasn’t the most elegant of positions in which to find yourself.

“There!” With a flourish, she waved the paper in the air. “Triumph! Although, I have to say, it isn’t as clean under there as it could be. Dust, you know.”

“I hope you haven’t marked your clothes?”

“Oh indeed, no,” Agnes said cheerfully, brushing herself down and wondering what this woman would think if she knew that she had climbed out of a grave covered in mud, so a little dust was no great problem.

“I’m Joyce.”

“Oh, how do you do? My name is Agnes Pringle. Very nice to meet you.”

“You’re English.”

Agnes smiled in delight. “You can tell by the accent, I suppose?”

Joyce nodded, then winced, wishing she hadn’t. “I have a very good English friend. Well – ” she paused, then laughed quietly. “I suppose I have two, although I’m not sure the second one considers himself my friend!”

“Oh – a gentleman friend?” Agnes asked, then blushed. “How rude of me! I do apologise, Joyce. What must you think of my manners?”

Joyce smiled. The rather plump, flustered woman in front of her had a kind face and worried blue eyes. She could tell from the quality of her clothes that she wasn’t rich. The pink sweater and brown pants had that over-washed look that Joyce knew only too well.

“Don’t be silly. And William certainly isn’t a gentleman friend. If anything, it’s my daughters he likes. Especially the oldest.”

“Aahh. From the tone of your voice, you don’t think he is quite suitable.”

Joyce’s lips quirked into the first genuine smile she’d managed all day. Was William the Bloody a suitable boyfriend for her Slayer daughter? Perhaps not! But explaining to this nice Agnes Pringle would be far too difficult a task. She could just imagine her pink flushed face turning white with shock if Joyce started to talk about vampires and demons.

“No, he isn’t suitable boyfriend material, but – ” she paused. She’d found herself thinking quite a lot about Spike recently and she wasn’t sure why. It was as if something was leading her towards a conclusion and she didn’t know what or why! It was very confusing and this constant headache didn’t make it any easier to think.

Agnes quietly poured out a glass of water and handed it to her. Joyce sipped it gratefully. It was nice when you didn’t have to constantly ask for things. She hated to be a burden to the girls. There was no way that was going to happen.

“May I enquire why you’re in hospital? Of course, if you would rather not say….” She stopped in mid sentence. There she went, being totally tactless! What was it her friend at home used to say, “Agnes, your foot is in your mouth again!”

“It’s my head. Or rather, something inside my head causing pain. Probably nothing serious.”

“Oh yes, as you say, probably nothing to worry about at all.”

Agnes fell silent. It was odd, but since becoming a vampire, she’d realised that she could often tell when someone wasn’t well. It was an odd gift – she likened it to being similar to one of those lionesses you saw so often on safari programmes – the one who could stalk the weakest member of the herd because she knew it was sick or injured.

Not that she, personally, would stalk anyone, of course! The very idea! Anyway, she didn’t think she had quite the right physique for stalking. But knowing when someone was sick seemed to be instinctive nowadays. And – Joyce was sick.

“Are you visiting someone? Don’t let me keep you if you are, but it is nice to chat to someone of your own age once in a while. Even the nurses seem about eighteen these days!”

“No – I’m just passing through. I used to help out at the local hospital when I lived in England and so I thought…..” Agnes trailed off. It was so difficult to explain that she wandered through the hospital once a week to see if she could find some blood to drink.

“Do you have family in Sunnydale? Children?” Joyce asked.

“Children? Oh no. I’ve never been married. But I’d have loved to have been a mother. Such a joy. What about you?”

Joyce didn’t like to remark that being married had nothing to do with having children these days. Obviously to her new English friend the two went hand in hand. And as for motherhood being a joy – well, when you were mother to the Slayer, that was sometimes a diminished feeling.

“I have two daughters – the youngest, Dawn, she’s – ” Joyce hesitated, frowning. What was Dawn? Difficult? Funny? Loving? “She’s complicated.”

“And your oldest girl?”

Joyce’s pale face softened. “She’s marvellous.”

“They’ll be glad when you’re safely home. But I expect you have lots of friends helping them cope.”

Joyce lay back on the pillows. Friends, no, she didn’t have many friends. It was only now, when she was sick, that she realised just how empty her life was of adult company. Somehow it had always seemed so complicated; bringing people home to meet Buffy, especially after she’d learned that she was the Slayer. It wasn’t the sort of information you could slip into a conversation. “Oh, your daughter likes softball? Mine likes staking vampires!”

So which adults were there for Buffy to turn to. Rupert Giles, of course. He was reliable. In an emergency, Buffy could always rely on him. And Spike. Definitely unreliable but – in an emergency? Joyce frowned. She the oddest feeling that she would trust Spike to fight at Buffy’s side more than Giles. Which was ridiculous.

“Well, I must be going. Leave you to get some sleep,” Agnes said brightly. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat.”

“Give me your phone number,” Joyce said. “Perhaps you’d like to come round for a coffee when I get home?”

“I – I don’t have a telephone. The people I’m staying with are very old-fashioned. They don’t believe in modern technology.”

Joyce stared at her. The Englishwoman had gone very pink and flustered. OK, it was weird not to have a telephone, but we couldn’t all be the same.
She scribbled down her address. “OK, look, here’s where I live. Drop round in a few days time. I should be home by then.”

Agnes beamed. “I’d like that. I’ll bring cake.”

“Home baked?”

Agnes looked puzzled. “Is there any other kind?”

Joyce smiled up at her, remembering all the packets of instant cake mix that stood on her kitchen shelves.

“I’ll bring enough for your daughters and in case your English gentlemen friends call round,” Agnes said as she walked to the door.

“Rupert and William.”

Agnes gazed back at her and for a moment, Joyce thought the other woman’s eyes looked a very strange colour – almost yellow.

Agnes struggled to control herself. Honestly, Aggie, she thought crossly, vamping out just because poor Joyce looks so poorly, is a pretty bad show. You should be ashamed of yourself!

“Yes, Rupert and William,” she repeated. “I’ll look forward to meeting them.” She laughed. "I have a friend called William, too. Such a nice name."

Tbc.










 
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