Page 27 of Beg, Borrow or Steal
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‘You aresucha tool,’ Pav spat out, pushing up from Jamie’s desk in disgust. ‘She’s a fuckingmedicalstudent. Your mum would bloodyloveher. The only one with a stick up his arse around here is you.’
Jamie sighed. ‘I know, I know. I’m being a complete pillock aren’t I? I didn’t even mean that. Of course Mum would love her. I just feel like a creepy weirdo wanting to make some sort of move on her. She’s too young for a start.’
‘She’s twenty-two,’ Pav said dryly. ‘And she has a four-year-old daughter. You might be eleven physical years older, but personally I think her mental age is light years ahead of yours.’
A light tapping came at Jamie’s door and he frowned, barking: ‘Come in.’
The door opened slowly to reveal Dr Morrison on the other side. She granted Jamie the standard millisecond of eye contact before focusing on his desk. ‘I’ve …’ she cleared her throat. ‘Dr Grantham, I’ve brought the list of procedures I think will benefit from pre-op CBT and a pile of consent forms.’
Jamie had agreed to consent patients pre-operatively to take part in Dr Morrison’s research study. Dr Morrison seemed to like lists. A lot. She moved into the office and reached out to put the pile of papers on the table, but when she caught sight of Pav she gave a weird little squeak and the forms went flying out of her hands, all over the office floor.
‘Ah! The lovely Dr Morrison!’ Pav exclaimed, smiling broadly. ‘I haven’t seen you in weeks.’ He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. ‘It’s almost as if you’re hiding from me.’ Dr Morrison jerked back and then froze as she focused on the mess on the floor, obviously torn between not leaving it for them to clean up and her extreme dislike for Pav. Jamie had no idea what she had against him, but Dr Morrison seemed to have a very strong aversion to his best friend, which, in typical Pav fashion, he found hilarious. Jamie would admit that Pavlos wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he’d never really encountered anyone who actively disliked him enough to make it as obvious as Dr Morrison did. ‘When are you going to start giving my patients the old mind-bending treatment?’
Dr Morrison had been running a study on the effect of preoperative CBT on postoperative recovery. So far it had just been for orthopaedic patients having joint replacements but Jamie had heard rumours that its success may mean expanding to other surgical specialities.
‘It’s not m…mind bending,’ she muttered as she dipped down to pick up the papers, hovering over them in an attempt to keep her immaculate suit clean. ‘And I’m not the one doing the therapy. Anwar is a qualified psychologist.’ Throughout this Dr Morrison kept her eyes on her papers, not once giving either man any eye contact. Pav, who was never very good at being ignored, bent down next to her and the shock of it caused Dr Morrison to jerk to the side, falling onto the dusty floor. She straightened immediately and started frantically brushing off her skirt before patting her still perfectly styled hair.
‘Bloody hell,’ Pav muttered as he finished gathering the papers. ‘Sorry, Dr M., are you okay?’ Dr Morrison’s left eye twitched at Pav’s abbreviation of her surname but she still avoided looking at him, focusing instead on Jamie. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and her hands formed into tight fists at her sides.
‘Have you upset your medical student?’ she asked Jamie, and his eyebrows shot up.
‘Why do you think th – ?’
‘I just saw her leaving and …’ she glanced away and bit her lip before taking another deep breath and looking back at him, ‘she seemed upset. I don’t think …’ Dr Morrison trailed off, twisting her hands in front of her for a moment. ‘I’m not sure she’s being treated very well and it could have an adverse effect on her training.’ With a short nod and a deep exhale after she’d said her piece, she turned to go.
‘Dr Morrison, wait,’ Jamie said, shooting up from his chair to come around his desk towards her. ‘What do you mean? Where did you see Libby?’
Dr Morrison turned and frowned at him in confusion. ‘Well … coming out of your office, just now.’
‘What makes you think she’s upset with me?’
Dr Morrison looked away and bit her lip again. ‘I don’t want to get her in trouble,’ she whispered.
‘I promise,’ he said, moving to block the door and watching a panicked expression cross Dr Morrison’s face as she saw her path to escape from Pav cut off.
‘She … she told your door to go and … well … have intercourse with itself, and she did …’ Millie trailed off as she lifted her hand but could not bring herself to actually make the gesture.
‘Bollocks!’ Jamie shouted, causing Dr Morrison to jump about a foot in the air and stumble to the side again. He rubbed his hands down his face and stood back to let her out. ‘Uh … thanks for telling me. I apologise for swearing.’
‘You won’t … ?’ Dr Morrison trailed off again as she made for the door and reached for the handle. ‘I mean, she’s a good student. I don’t –’
‘Believe me, I deserved her abuse of my door,’ Jamie said in a dejected voice. ‘I will apologise and I promise it won’t affect my treatment of her as a student.’ Dr Morrison breathed out a sigh of what seemed to be relief before she shot out of the door, and then Jamie heard the clicking of her high heels as she sped down the corridor.
‘Hmm,’ Pav said, rubbing his chin and smirking over at a pissed-off Jamie, ‘doesn’t look like you’re going to have to worry about introducing Libby to your mum in the near future, does it?’
Chapter 13
Is he a Catholic?
‘Yeah, we miss you too, Mum,’ Libby said as she dumped a big glug of milk into the mixing bowl, frowning down at the gloopy, stewing contents with the phone propped up under her chin. How hard could this pancake-making businessbe? Mum seemed to manage it fine every Saturday morning. Libby was determined not to be outdone by her mother and prove to Rosie that her cooking was just as good. ‘Bugger,’ she muttered under her breath as she rooted in the cupboard for the electric whisk, sending a couple of pans clattering onto the floor.
‘Libby? You’re not …bakingare you? Unsupervised?’
‘Mum,’ Libby growled, sticking the whisk into the mixture. ‘I am twenty-bloody-two years old, I think I can make a couple of sodding pancakes without too much of a palaver.’ With that she turned on the whisk full blast and was rewarded with great splatters of egg, milk and flour all over her and the kitchen.
‘It’s snowing!’ she heard Rosie shout behind her, and she turned to see the little girl equally covered in egg and milk and spinning in a small circle with her face upturned to the flour that was still falling around them. ‘Granny,’ Rosie shouted, reaching up for the egg-covered phone. Libby sighed, wiped off the worst of it with her top and handed it over. ‘Mummy made it snow inside. She’s magical.’ Libby looked around at her tiny, dripping kitchen, and then at Rosie’s happy face; anger briefly warred with amusement, but Rosie’s grin managed to tip her over the edge and she started laughing.
