‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’
‘It’s a distinct possibility,’ I said.
‘You do know that there can only be one winner here?’
‘It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’
‘What?’
‘A bird in the hand is—’
‘Enough! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I’ve had you down as a troublemaker from the moment you were carried in here, and now it’s right out in the open for everyone to see! Well, you listen to me, mister, we live by harmony here, not anarchy! These pizzas have been brought in from outside at not inconsiderable expense, as a special treat, but they’ll bloody well go in the bin if you continue with this outright . . . defiance – yes, that’s exactly what it is – defiance! Do you think I’m going to go without dinner tonight? No, but these poor souls, they certainly will if you do not see the error of your ways and apologise for your attitude and your behaviour. Immediately.’
Her stare was intense.
Michael slipped off his earphones. ‘Apologise, man, you’re not going to win.’
Joe said, ‘Do it, I’m starving.’
Malachy pointed a finger at me. ‘Say “you’re sorry. We get pizza once a month if we’re lucky. Don’t fuck it up.’
Andy stared at the pizzas.
JMJ raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’
Yes, her eyes were good, but she was no Nurse Brenda – or Alison, for that matter – and I knew my plan was good, and for every moment I held my silence I knew that it was drawing closer to fruition.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘have it your—’
I spoke. Muttered.
‘What was that?’ JMJ snapped. ‘If you’re going to apologise, speak up, let everyone hear you.’
I said, a little louder, ‘Food fight.’
She screwed up her eyes and leaned a little closer. ‘What was that?’
‘I said . . . FOOD FIGHT!’
I reached down and picked up one of the pizzas. It was cold and as firm as a discus. “The orderly looked from the pizza to me to JMJ and back, utterly confused and seeking direction.
JMJ began to say, ‘Put that d—’ but then had to duck as I Frisbeed it across the dining room towards her. It smeared off her left shoulder and hit the wall behind her, leaving a snail trail of cheese as it slipped to the floor.
‘C’mon!’ I yelled, urging the others to join in, ‘Food fight!’ I lunged at another pizza just as the orderly jumped at me, knocking me forwards and across the table. ‘Food fight!’ I screeched. He had me by the neck, pressing down. I screwed my head to one side and spat out: ‘C’mon, you half-wits! Food fight! This is your chance! C’mon!’
But they sat there, looking blankly at me. I managed to grab another pizza but a second orderly came rushing in and caught my hand and bent my fingers back until I let go and then they pulled me up and back and JMJ came round the table and put her face in mine and raised her hand and grabbed my cheek and pinched it between her fingers and twisted it and snarled, ‘Anything you want to say now?’
‘Yes . . . yes!’
‘Well?’
‘You don’t eat pizza with forks, you fucking witch!’
‘Pathetic!’ And she twisted my cheek even harder and it brought tears to my eyes and she smiled and said, ‘Take him to his room and lock him in, and I don’t want to see him until breakfast. You can have a long hard think about your behaviour and I expect a full and sincere apology or I swear to God . . . !'
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