Hillstation by Robin Mukherjee

bus?’ said Cindy. ‘I’ll never forget that bus.’
    There was a little pause as all three of them never forgot the bus.
    â€˜I blame the restaurants,’ said Sharon. ‘’Specially in Leicester. Flipping great pictures of shiny white palaces, blue sky, pink flowers. Little man comes over, brushing the crumbs up. Oops there’s a crumb, we can’t have that. That isn’t like home. We don’t have crumbs lying around. Just mangy dogs all over the street, heaps of garbage, cows every bloody where and total head-case drivers trying to kill you. But you won’t see crumbs. Cause all the bloody beggars have eaten them up! That hotel, yeah? wherever it was, I go for a stroll, out jumps a monkey. I run for my bloody life, ants this big, fricking mosquitoes, like my leg’s got acne.’ She took a breath. ‘Tandoori sodding Paradise!’ she said finally, leaning back again.
    â€˜Yeah, but they love us,’ said Martina, dryly, glancing at Cindy.
    â€˜They love me in Hamburg,’ said Sharon. ‘They love me in Hammersmith. I don’t need the squits to be loved. I don’t need to get eaten alive by a million crawly things to be loved. I don’t need to get woken up at four in the bloody morning by some lunatic shouting down a megaphone…’
    â€˜That’s the call to prayer,’ interrupted Cindy. ‘It’s spiritual.’
    â€˜Well, you go pray, then,’ said Sharon. ‘While I shove the megaphone up his –’
    â€˜Okay, okay, girls, right, yeah, okay. We’re all a bit you know,’ said Hendrix, closing the box and straightening up. ‘But that’s how it is, alright, that’s where we are in the end and… well, you know.’
    â€˜What?’ said Sharon.
    â€˜Well, whatever. It is what it is. I lost half me cables, you don’t hear me complaining.’
    â€˜That wasn’t you, then?’ said Sharon.
    He grimaced slightly, smoothing his pony-tail with a hairy hand. ‘So you’re the Doc around here?’ he said.
    I glanced at Pol who looked as if he was about to say something.
    â€˜Why do you ask?’ I said quickly.
    â€˜Well, only cause, ah, I mean, if there’s any chance of a word some time…’ said Hendrix, eyes darting at everything except Sharon who seemed to be staring fixedly at him.
    â€˜I shall be in the clinic tomorrow,’ I said.
    â€˜Well, by “some time”, I was thinking more like now,’ said Hendrix,
    Pol grabbed my arm. ‘Perhaps I could have a word, first,’ he said, dragging me into the corridor. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed.
    â€˜It’s not what I’m doing,’ I said. ‘It’s what I’m not doing.’
    â€˜You mean not telling them who you really are?’
    â€˜Possibly similar to that,’ I said. ‘But don’t worry. I have no intention of deceiving them. I will merely offer such advice as I can and if I can’t, I’ll refer them to Dev. That is precisely how we function on a daily basis. There is nothing unusual or untoward in this.’
    â€˜You think she won’t marry you if she finds out you’re a Clinic Skivvy,’ he said.
    â€˜Clinical Assistant,’ I mumbled.
    â€˜Then what faith do you have in her?’ he asked.
    â€˜Infinite. Except for that.’
    Hendrix came to the door. ‘Only, I do get a bit of medication from time to time,’ he said. ‘All above board. You know. Bit of this. Bit of that. I was just wondering what you could, maybe, do for me.’
    â€˜Rabindra!’ said Pol, shaking my shoulders.
    â€˜Please excuse my friend,’ I said, trying to pull free. ‘He is a little over-excited. But if you tell me the nature of your concern, I’m sure I can find the appropriate remedy.’
    Pol moved off to clutch his head.
    Hendrix leaned in close. ‘Concern, you see, that’s just it.