Page 9 of Together Again at the Cornish Country Hospital

‘Lij, I love you, but you were not made for manual labour. You’re far too delicate for that. I mean, Christ, we go for a walk and look at the state of you.’

‘At least I know I’ve got one real friend who isn’t paid to hang out with me because they’d sugarcoat the truth.’

‘You don’t have to pay anyone to hang out with you, buddy, they’re queuing at the door.’

‘It’s notmethey want to hang out with, it’s…’ He still cringed at using the word celebrity, or pop star. Somehow, despite all the fame and his undeniable success, he still felt like the same old Lijah deep down, the kid busking for bottle tops in the harbour. ‘It’s the lifestyle that appeals to them, the smoke and mirrors. None of them know the real me.’

It had become so hard to trust anyone over the past few years and to know whether the people who gravitated towards Lijah were genuine. Some of them just wanted to raise their own profile. When his second album had come out and the PR team at his record label had been determined it should exceed the success of his first, he’d been put in touch with the manager of another singer, Lucillia Rodriguez, who’d asked if he’d be interested in staging a faux romance over the summer. He’d been so gobsmacked, he hadn’t been able to respond at first. Lucillia’s manager had clearly taken that as the green light to outline the specifics. According to him, it was simple. They needed to be photographed together as much as possible over the summer, including some sufficiently intimate moments to fool the press and the public that their romance was real. An early denial of the romance would help add fuel to the fire. It would raise both their profiles, the manager said, perhaps even more so when they went their separate ways after a few months.

It was such a cynical idea and he didn’t want to raise his profile, he wanted to be as anonymous as it was possible for a successful singer to be, so that he had the chance of making a genuine connection with someone again one day, because the truth was he did want a relationship. He wanted someone he couldn’t wait to get back to. As it stood, the only person who fitted that bill was Nick and he couldn’t keep expecting his old friend to put his own life on hold forever. Nick was great at what he did, and he’d had other performers approaching him over the years, but he’d never taken them on, so that he could be at Lijah’s beck and call. This could be his opportunity to branch out, maybe meet someone new too, but Lijah knew Nick wouldn’t even contemplate doing that until he was confident that Lijah would be okay without him. Part of him wanted to tell Nick that he didn’t need to hang around for his benefit, except they’d both have known it wasn’t true. He just needed a bit of time, that was all, but Nick needed to know it wouldn’t be forever.

‘I’m going to work out what I really want from life, that’s the point of all of this.’ Lijah gestured around him, indicating the reason why he’d rented the house that was three times the size of some of the venues he’d played in the early days. ‘But you’ve got to work out what it is you really want, too.’

‘I know exactly what I want to do.’ Nick’s expression was serious and nerves gripped Lijah. He desperately wanted his best friend to have the life he deserved, but the thought of not seeing him any more was already making his stomach churn. He forced himself to ask anyway.

‘Really, what’s that?’

‘I want to get you to the hospital. After that we can work out the rest.’

‘Okay.’ Lijah nodded. His hand was still throbbing with pain, and he could tell how hot it was without even touching it. He could have called a private doctor, or gone to the nearest private hospital, but if he was going to try and build a new life for himself and learn to blend into the background the way he wanted to, he might as well start as he meant to go on.

* * *

Amy gave the woman who’d approached her to complain about waiting times a tight smile. Summer in Port Kara meant that the emergency department was busier than ever, but it had been a surprisingly quiet morning and the reason the woman had needed to wait slightly longer was because she’d been triaged as not needing urgent care. Amy was tempted to tell the patient, whose name was Chantelle, that she could make an appointment to see her GP to get some antibiotics for her problem if she didn’t want to wait. Chantelle had an infected piercing in her ear, which she’d had done by a friend using a sewing needle and an ice cube when they’d had ‘a few too many’. She was next to be seen, and Amy had been just about to call her name when Chantelle had come barrelling towards her, firing out her dissatisfaction so close to Amy’s face that she could smell the stale booze on the other woman’s breath.

‘This place is a joke. You could drop dead before you got seen, what’s the hold up for God’s sake? It’s like a morgue out here.’

‘It is quiet today, but we still have to triage patients based on urgency and unfortunately there were other patients who needed to be seen in front of you, but I’m ready to see you now. If you’d like to come through, we can?—’

As she spoke, Chantelle’s phone began to ring, and she held up a finger to silence Amy.

‘Hi hun!’ There was a pause as the person on the other end of the line spoke, before Chantelle started again. ‘Yeah it’s a freaking nightmare, still waiting to be seen… I know, I know, what the hell do we pay our taxes for? I bet if I’d just turned up in the country I’d be seen straight away.’

Amy could feel the blood pulsing through her veins. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d heard a line like that, but it never made it any easier to hear. She was even more tempted now to tell Chantelle to go home and stop using an emergency department for something that could easily be dealt with in the community. There were other things she wanted to say too, like the fact that there would be no NHS without the many staff who came to the UK from other countries to work in an organisation that would grind to a halt without them. Sometimes it was really hard to treat all patients the same.

Amy had cared for an elderly widower just the day before, whose eyes had filled with tears when he’d talked about how lonely he was since the death of his wife. She’d wanted to take Albert home with her and look after him. He’d been so grateful to everyone and after one of the porters, Darius, had exchanged a joke with him, he’d told Amy it was the most fun he’d had in weeks. It had made her so sad that Albert felt that way and she’d spoken to Esther to see if there was anything they could do. Esther’s mum, Caroline, volunteered for a befriending service in the community and by the time Albert left A&E, Amy and Esther had arranged for Caroline to go and see him, with a view to matching him up with a regular visitor from the service. There were various other activities Albert could get involved with too, all of which could help alleviate the loneliness he was clearly feeling. He’d still been on Amy’s mind hours after she’d got home, but it had been the kind of day that made her feel as if she really could make a difference. Sadly, there were days when her job felt far more thankless and, courtesy of Chantelle, today felt like one of them.

‘Yeah I’ll be there, what time?’ Chantelle paused again, listening to whatever was being said in response, and Amy’s patience finally snapped.

‘If you’ve got things you’d rather do than get your ear looked at, I suggest you go to see your GP at a more convenient time.’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice and in truth she didn’t even try. Chantelle gave a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes in response.

‘Better go, they’re finally calling me in, and the nurse is giving me evils.’ Chantelle laughed then at something the caller must have said in response. Digging her nails into the palm of her hand, Amy took a deep breath, really having to fight the urge now to tell Chantelle what she thought of her, especially when the conversation with the caller started up again. Amy had been just about to turn and walk away, when she spotted a commotion in the corner of the waiting area.

‘Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you!’ The words of a teenage girl on the far side of the room were followed up by a high-pitched shriek, and then a question at almost as high a volume. ‘Can I get a selfie?’

‘Now’s not really the time.’ Amy was almost certain she recognised the voice, a split second before Nick turned slightly to the side, and any doubts she’d had about it being him vanished. If Nick was here, and people were asking for autographs, that could only mean one thing: Lijah was here too.

‘It’s fine, I can do a quick photo.’ Lijah’s voice was even more familiar, his gentle tone whisking her back to whispered exchanges as they lay in his bed, more than a decade before.

‘Lij, your hand is still bleeding. I really don’t think now is the time.’ Nick’s tone was insistent, but Lijah was already having his photograph taken alongside the excited young girl, who was pulling poses worthy of a professional model.

‘Right that’s it.’ Nick caught hold of Lijah’s left arm, and Amy could see the right one wrapped in a white towel that was stained with bright red blood. Ignoring the fact that Chantelle had now ended her call and was demanding to know where Amy was going, she moved towards them.

‘My friend has been attacked by a dog and—’ That was as far as Nick got before he registered that it was Amy standing in front of him, but Lijah was still half turned away, trying to placate the young girl who was begging him for just one more picture.

‘Oh my God, Ames. Long time no see.’ As Nick smiled broadly, Lijah spun around, his eyes meeting hers, and she desperately wanted to say something that sounded nonchalant and cool, but instead her mouth dropped open. It was much the same response she’d had the first time she’d ever seen him in the queue for the canteen in the first week of secondary school. Up until that point she’d still thought of boys as smelly and annoying, her older brother Nathan being the example by which she judged all males of the species, but Lijah had changed all that. It had been five long years before they’d become a couple, but that hadn’t stopped her imagining, as an awkward eleven-year-old, in a too-big blazer, what it might be like to kiss him. She hadn’t even reached the stage where she practised kissing on the back of her hand at that point, or by pressing her lips up against a poster of Justin Timberlake. All of that came later, but Lijah wasn’t just her first ever boyfriend, he was her first ever crush. So the chances of her acting coolly around him, even after all this time, were almost nil.

‘Your hand’s bleeding.’ Talk about stating the obvious. Lijah gave her one of his slow smiles, which still had the ability to make her lose the power of speech. Chantelle had followed her over and was now describing the oozing of her ear to her friend on the phone, completely unaware that Amy was having a conversation with Lijah Byrne.

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