Page 47 of The Night Shift
‘You don’t need to worry about your image with me,’ she said simply. ‘I think you’re wonderful.’
He looked at her. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Sometimes your bluntness is brilliant. Less like a boot in the face and more like, something really nice in my face’—he tilted her chin so that she was in kissable range—'likeyourface.’
She laughed shyly and he pressed his lips to her mouth. Her reaction was instantaneous, knees weak, thighs trembling, throat tight. Christ, she was really going to have to get a grip on this or her days as a functioning member of society were numbered.
‘I really like your face too,’ she said, her voice husky in her throat as he kissed the outline of her jaw, his fingers pressing into the curve of her spine and pulling her tight against him.
‘Do you like it enough to sit on it?’ he whispered in her ear.
‘Gus!’ she said in mock-outrage.
‘What?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘I’m just asking an honest question. You’re the fan of total candour.’
‘I don’t really do that though,’ she said, her voice stuttering slightly as she pulled away and looked at him. ‘I don’t sit on faces as a rule. I’m very happy todooral sex, as in, give blow-jobs– but you don’t need to, you know,reciprocatein order to even things up or whatever.’
‘Jesus Christ, Violet.’ He laughed into her mouth as he kissed her again which felt peculiarly erotic. ‘How about if I wasn’t doing it for you. How about if I was doing it for me. Because I wanted to. Because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for days now.’
She gave him a sceptical look. ‘Really?’ she said.
‘Yes, you crazy woman.’ He gave her one of his wide beam smiles. ‘You have no idea, do you? No idea how sexy you are.’
‘No,’ she said seriously. ‘I probably don’t.’
He steered her away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. ‘Now that is a real shame,’ he said. ‘I think you’d better come with me.’
‘Okay.’ She let herself be led. ‘But can we leave the cunnilingus conversation for another day?’
He spluttered another laugh as he kissed her. ‘We can have that conversation whenever you wish– over breakfast? In the mess? You call the shots.’ He stopped, held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Seriously, Violet, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay? And there is no pressure to achieve any kind ofend point. But irrespective of what we do now, I’d definitely rather be in bed with you than worrying about the dishes.’
She laughed. ‘Such an old romantic. I bet you say that to all the girls.’
Violet
Later that evening and back at work, Violet headed straight to Marvin’s post-op ward as soon as the handover was complete. Anjali had been so understanding and sympathetic when Violet told her about her friend being stabbed that she had almost felt guilty for her happy mood and the amount of fun she’d been having while he lay recovering from life-threatening injuries. The sight of him reinforced the pang of guilt and caused it to flare into full scale mortification at having been so self-absorbed. He still looked dreadful– if anything, worse than he had when he’d been brought in. The bruising had darkened on his face and his eye looked much more swollen than it had previously.
‘I know, I know,’ he said, registering her shock and deflecting it in typical Marvin fashion. ‘You’re thinking, where do I know this handsome bastard from? Is itGQmagazine? Is he being lined up to play the next Bond? Is he Harry Styles’ more attractive brother?’
‘Oh, Marv,’ she said, dropping into the chair beside him, her expression sad despite the attempt at a smile. ‘You still look gorgeous to me.’
‘My darling Violet,’ he said, reaching across to take her hand with a small wince. ‘I know how it pains you to tell lies, so believe me when I say how much I appreciate the effort you put into that one. I’ve seen myself in the mirror. I look like I’ve done five rounds with Tyson Fury– and that’s because, in effect, I have done– or more like five rounds with five Tyson Furies, with knives.’
‘Do you remember any of it?’ Violet asked in a hushed voice. ‘Do you remember how many of them there were or what they looked like or…? Sorry, I know the police have already asked you all this.’
Marvin shook his head sadly. ‘I can’t recall much of it to be honest,’ he said. ‘Which is probably a blessing, otherwise I’d be scared to leave the house. The police said some of it might come back to me. They said shock can sometimes do that, make you blank things out. I don’t know how much use I’m going to be though– in terms of making an arrest, let alone securing any conviction. I’m hardly in a position to press charges even if they do catch the perpetrators.’
‘Why not? They attacked you!’
‘I know, honey.’ Marvin patted her again. He looked older suddenly– weary behind the bruises. ‘And I want justice as much as the next man– whether he’s dressed as a woman or not. But the trouble is, I can’t very well stand up in court and say, yes, your honour, t’was I, Mr Marvin Gillespie, head of mathematics at the prestigious Kenton College, educator of privileged youth, walking through town at three in the morning wearing platform heels, a wig and a diamanté basque, having just performed a routine on stage that would horrify the pearl-clutching mothers of the boys I teach. The head would have me out on gardening leave before you could saybanish the deviant. He wouldn’t have any choice.’
‘But that’s not right.’
‘I know. Look, it doesn’t matter at the moment, because I can’t remember any details so I’m not exactly giving them substantive leads to chase up.’
‘Is that really because you can’t remember or because you’re scared of what might happen if the police do manage to make some arrests though?’ Violet was bubbling with outrage on Marvin’s behalf, frustrated by his passive acceptance, but she could also see that he was exhausted. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t come here to bully you. I wanted to see how you were feeling.’
He smiled forgivingly and then winced as the smile reached the corner of his steri-stripped left eye. ‘I’m okay as long as they keep the pain relief going,’ he said. ‘They think a couple of my ribs are bruised as opposed to fractured and my abdominal scar is going to looks pretty impressive.’ He gazed down his torso. ‘No crop-tops for a while,’ he said grimly. ‘They started off keyhole but had to open things up to see the full extent of the laceration. That’s what your Gus said anyway.’
‘Gus,’ she said, her voice lifting. ‘Have you seen him? This evening, I mean? Have I missed him?’
