Page 57 of The Night Shift
‘Have you spoken to the police again today?’ Violet stood, reluctant to leave so soon after arriving but knowing she had to get on.
Marvin shook his head. ‘No. They’ve not been back,’ he said. ‘They suggested that I get in touch if I remember anything else.’
‘And do you?’ Her voice was cautious.
‘Not sure.’ Marvin pulled the blanket across his knees and looked shifty. ‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
She leaned across to kiss him goodbye. ‘Swelling’s gone down,’ she said. ‘Few days’ time and you’ll be back to your gorgeous self.’
‘Hmm. Speaking of gorgeous, how are things going with Gus? Do I even need to ask? Judging from the look on your face I take it things are still perfect in paradise?’
She couldn’t contain her grin, it spread from ear to ear. ‘I think I might be in love with him, Marv,’ she said. ‘That’s a crazy thing to say, isn’t it, but honestly, it’s like I never want to be apart from him. I wake up and I think of him. I go to sleep thinking of him. I’m a mess.’
‘But you’re a happy mess,’ said Marvin wisely. ‘And that’s the most glorious thing in the world.’
* * *
Barney Snell was arriving on the ward as she left and he held the door open for her. She hadn’t seen him since he’d walked in on her and Gus the night before but she decided to brazen it out.
‘Thanks,’ she said curtly as she ducked under his arm, catching a waft of some expensive aftershave and deodorant combination.
‘No problem,’ he said, clearly amused. ‘Happy to provide assistance to a colleague, in whatever form that assistance may take.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Her tone might have been a little belligerent but she was feeling defensive.
‘Nothing,’ he said, sounding wounded. ‘Just that you struggled to find the exit last time you were here.’
She nodded, checking his face for signs that he was making fun of her, alluding in some way to the compromising position he’d caught her in with Gus. But thankfully he seemed to be genuine, and she smiled.
‘I did,’ she said. ‘Those door-release switches always confuse me. It seems you spend five minutes pressing them only to find out it’s the light switch and that the doors are open anyway, or you try and barge your way through like I did, find the doors are locked, and nearly break your face!’
‘Well, no harm done to that face of yours, thankfully,’ he said. ‘It’s nice when colleagues can get along. Help each other out.’ For a second she could have sworn there was a glint of something challenging in his expression, but the moment was fleeting and he carried on smiling. ‘Hope the rest of your shift goes well.’
‘You too,’ she said as she strode off down the main corridor, feeling his eyes on her until she rounded the corner to the next ward.
* * *
It was approaching eleven o’clock by the time she made it to ward ten but she was glad to see that Mr Zeller was still awake, his eye mask perched jauntily on the bedside cabinet beside a black and white photograph of a woman in her twenties who was laughing into the camera.
‘My Magda,’ he said proudly, following Violet’s line of sight. ‘Thought I might as well make myself at home seeing as I’ve been here all bloody week.’
‘She looks lovely,’ said Violet, meaning it. The woman in the photo was evidently brimming with happiness. Her laugh was relaxed and full of joy, aimed no doubt at the person taking the photo, who Violet suspected had been Mr Zeller himself. She pulled up a chair and drew the curtain behind her so as not to disturb the patient in the neighbouring bed.
‘Wondered where you’d got to yesterday,’ said Mr Zeller, his eyes accusative. ‘Thought you might have jetted off on holiday or something.’
She snorted. ‘Chance would be a fine thing, Mr Zeller,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got another night shift after this one and then from New Year’s Eve I’ll probably just try and sleep. Two days to catch up and back to work by Thursday.
‘Well, I suppose it’s what you signed up for when you decided to do this job.’ He scrutinised her carefully from beneath his creased brow. ‘Still, bit tough being stuck here over Christmas with all of us old crumblies when you could be gallivanting away at some boozyrave-party.’
‘I’m not really a boozy, rave-party kind of girl,’ said Violet. ‘So don’t trouble yourself on my account.’
He nodded, unsurprised, and they spoke for a few moments about his wife, Magda. He explained that the photo had been taken when they first met, back in Poland, and Violet noticed his expression softening the longer he talked.
‘You clearly loved her a great deal,’ she said when he’d finished telling her about their emigrating to England more than forty years ago. A move that had been entirely Magda’s decision.
Mr Zeller nodded. ‘She was everything to me,’ he said simply. ‘I’d have followed her to the ends of the earth. And now she’s gone.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t really see the point anymore.’
A little alarm bell rang in the back of Violet’s brain and she wondered whether she should go and get a depression screening questionnaire to assess his suicide risk, but thought that this might ruin the moment. She decided to stick to her usual tactic of direct questions. ‘Do you mean you can’t see the point inlivinganymore?’ she said. ‘Do you think you might try and kill yourself?’
