Page 8 of Prognosis Do Over

‘Lou?’ Pete entreated, appealing to his boss one last time and Lou opened her mouth to graciously decline.

‘No, Pete,’ said Will, even more firmly this time. ‘Absolutely not.’

Lou turned and raised her eyebrow at Will. She knew he’d always been obsessed with her hair, but this was ridiculous. He was looking at her as if he owned her hair.

As if he owned her.

She felt the early simmer of her blood pick up to a slow boil. Did he really think he actually had a say over what she did with her hair?

Or any other part of her body?

Did he think he could walk back in after a year and she’d just fall back into her old Will-worshipping ways?

If she was going to hold on to herself and her sanity now Will was back, he had to know that their old dynamic was dead. No more following meekly wherever he led.

I am over you, buddy boy.

Time to draw a line in the sand. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, talking to Pete, but looking pointedly at Will.

‘Oh, no,’ gasped Kristy.

‘Lou,’ warned Lydia.

‘Yes!’ Pete rubbed his hands together with glee and picked up a pen.

‘No. Don’t put her down. I’ll do it,’ Will instructed, still holding Lou’s gaze.

Lou broke eye contact. ‘Do not listen to him. Long hair with a baby is not a good combination. I’m doing it.’

‘He doesn’t need you now,’ said Will, placing a stilling hand on Pete’s, hovering above an official form, pen poised. ‘I’ve already volunteered.’

Everyone in the nurses’ station looked at Lou. She felt as if she was in a tennis match, her colleagues looking left and right as they lobbed the bone of contention between them.

She shrugged. ‘You want to as well — fine. But I’m not changing my mind. He can have both of us.’

‘Lou,’ said Will, realising his fatal error. ‘You’re just trying to prove a point now. You don’t have to do this.’

‘No, my mind is made up. It’s for kids with cancer. I’m the kids’ ward nurse unit manager. It’s a good cause. I normally go along, sponsor everyone, sell raffle tickets, do my bit. But this year I’m going to lead by example.’

Will shook his head, not able to believe that she was seriously going to go through with it.

‘Are you really going bald?’ asked a mystified Kristy.

‘No.’ Lou laughed, not quite indignant enough to agree to that. ‘But shaved all over. Like Lydia’s Matt. How short does he have his?’ she asked her friend. Lydia’s ten-year-old son always got a crew cut.

‘He usually gets a number four blade,’ Lydia said, almost as horrified as Kristy.

‘Good.’ Lou nodded emphatically. ‘A number four it is.’

Will still couldn’t believe the direction of the conversation. He searched around for something to deter her, one last-ditch effort.

‘Jan will have a fit,’ he said. Lou’s sister probably coveted Lou’s hair even more than he did. Jan had always bemoaned her

thin, stringy, can’t-do-anything-with-it hair, especially as Lou’s was the exact opposite.

Lou blinked, and braced herself for the inevitable pain. She heard a slight gasp come from Kristy, and felt rather than saw the sudden tension emanating from Lydia and Pete.

It was suddenly deathly quiet, as if the entire ward had chosen that moment to cease all noise and activity.

‘Hardly,’ she said, keeping the gut-wrenching sorrow from her voice. ‘Jan’s dead.’

And she pushed herself off the desk and calmly walked away, before she did something awful — like burst into tears at the unexpected reminder of her sister’s tragic death.

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