Page 19 of The Night Shift
‘I’ll be right there,’ he said, watching Violet disappear through the doorway to the corridor and wondering which ward she was heading to next. He probably wouldn’t see her again before the shift finished.
He wasn’t sure what was making him seek out Violet’s company as he had over the past few hours. Perhaps nothing more than the loneliness of night shifts– the particular recognition of another medic working in isolation, the shared experience of a Christmas so peculiar that nobody else could possibly understand it. But he felt better about himself when he was around her– and it wasn’t simply that she was another doctor doing nights, or that she was younger and perhaps appealed to his sense of vanity by looking up to him, admiring him in some way. He’d always enjoyed helping junior colleagues, offering advice, steering them through the peculiar complexities of their new life on the wards. And he liked it when colleagues, or patients, confided in him, when he knew that somebody felt they could trust him– it gave him a good feeling, part of hisconstant need for approvalno doubt. But there was something different about Violet, something self-contained and single-minded that really made him want to grab her attention.
Violet
Violet peeled off her wetsuit socks and dropped them with a squelch onto the changing room floor. She only had a few moments to get back into dry clothes before her hands became clumsy with the cold but already her skin was starting to tingle and burn, the lacework pattern of capillaries prominent on her goose-pimpled thighs. She wondered briefly at the wisdom of having invited Gus to join her the following morning. After all, skinny-plucked-chicken wasn’t the best look. But then, what did it matter? He wasn’t interested in her appearance. At best he was someone slightly intrigued by the idea of a cold-water swim before heading back to the warm arms of his gorgeous fiancée.
She pulled at the front of her swimsuit where the fabric was starting to thin from overuse and wondered about wearing something a little less functional than the high-necked shortie-style one-piece she was currently sporting, but then her eye was drawn to the woman changing at the other end of the bench. She must have been in her late seventies and her legs were lean and muscular beneath the sagging crepe of her skin, whereas the woman in the far corner was plump, her cellulite bulging over her knees, buttocks sliced by the elastic of her swimsuit. Both women were smiling broadly as they scrubbed at their skin with brisk towelled strokes, both looked invigorated, refreshed, and perfectly happy in their respective bodies. Neither of them were wearing glamorous swimwear and neither were changing into tailored clothing to leave the lido. Comfort and warmth was the order of this particular Boxing Day activity and as Violet pulled on her fleece she was reminded that this was one of the things she loved most about the wild-swimming community– the total disregard for appearance. For someone who often floundered with the notion of how she was expected to look and behave, someone whose face and body language betrayed her every thought, being able to exist in a judgement-free space was as refreshing as the ice-cold water. The lido was for everyone irrespective of size, shape or ability. Silent swimmers who sliced through the water with ease and the shouters who noisily splashed their way across the pool like a spaniel in a farmyard puddle. All were welcome.
The older woman at the end of the bench buttoned up her duffel coat and pulled on a bobble hat. ‘Phewf,’ she said to nobody in particular. ‘That was lovely.’ She nodded in Violet’s direction as she left the changing room. ‘Back home to see what carnage the grandchildren have wreaked in my absence,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Festive tidings, ladies.’
Violet was once again reminded of the fact that out here, away from the hospital, people were carrying on with their normal Christmassy routine. She wondered what her parents would be doing this Boxing Day without her– helping the poor and needy, she imagined. Sure enough, on checking her phone there was a photo sent by her mother of the two of them at the local soup kitchen. Violet smiled as she swung her leg over her bike and made her wobbly way into the cycle lane towards home. She missed them both but knew they’d be enjoying themselves and the small stab of guilt she felt for avoiding them this festive period was counterbalanced by the fact that she would soon be seeing Dev. He’d messaged her earlier to say he was coming home today and that he was bringing a mountain of food with him.
‘Surplus from Aunty Bheena awaits,’ he said twenty minutes later, wrapping her up in an enthusiastic hug as she entered the house. ‘I know you’ll be ravenous after your night shift and your swim, so dig in. It’s all out on the table and I’ve put the hot water boost on so you can have a bath after.’
‘Oh, I’ve missed you,’ said Violet, leaning into him and breathing in his familiar scent.
‘Nonsense,’ said Dev firmly. ‘You don’t miss anybody. You’re the cat that walked by herself, remember?’
She smiled at the Kipling reference. ‘Yeah, but even that cat sometimes needed to come home to a Boxing Day curry and a warm bath.’
‘And a devastatingly attractive housemate.’
‘And that.’ She smiled as she dropped her rucksack onto the floor. ‘Remind me why you’re so essential…’
‘Well, I’m terribly easy on the eye,’ said Dev as he ushered her into the kitchen.
‘And that’s important, why?’
‘Because you’ve been watching over illness, frailty and decrepitude all night, darling. All the ugliness of the world. This visage,’ he gestured to his face. ‘This, is the therapy that your eyes so desperately need.’ He pulled her swimsuit and towel out of her bag and hung them over the radiator with a little frown.
‘Truth.’ Violet smiled as she saw the spread laid out on the kitchen table. ‘How were the family? Aunty Bheena still trying to match you up with a nice young lady?’
‘Ohhh yes.’ Dev grimaced. ‘They’re all at it. Even my parents.Especiallymy parents.’
‘Do you think they just didn’t hear you when you told them you were gay, like three years ago?’ She started spooning food out onto her plate.
‘They hear what they want to hear.’ He sighed. ‘I do try and talk to them about Marv– I mean I don’t mention the drag act or anything– but you know, I’ve casually name-dropped hima lotin the past couple of days.’
‘And they don’t pick up on it?’
‘Mum sometimes does.’ Dev put on a surprisingly accurate imitation of his mother as he bustled about their small kitchen. ‘And how is your good friend, Marvin? He is still teaching mathematics to school children? It is an important job but not so well paid– eh?’
Violet laughed. It was uncanny.
‘Of course, they’re all still hoping I’ll come to my senses and marry you.’ He returned to the table and handed her a plate of warm flatbread. ‘They don’t know that I already have a very important role in your life.’
‘You do?’ she said picking up a chapati.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Ye-es. That of the obligatory gay best friend– as per all romcoms since time began.’
‘Ahhh– of course. And why do I need one of those?’
‘Pfft.’ He gestured in her general direction. ‘All girls want a gay best friend. You know that. Basically they think we’re part of the sisterhood without being any competitive threat to them.’
‘But I don’t want to be part of the sisterhood,’ Violet said, affronted. ‘So why would I wantyouto be?’
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I know Vi, and that’s why I love you. In a world of artifice, you are the voice of reason.’
