Page 63 of The Night Shift
She wiped her eyes. Nodded at him. ‘Of course. You’re right. It’s just…’ She gestured around the room. ‘Being back here– it’s easy to slip back into– you know– familiar routines. It feels like home.’
‘A home you chose to leave.’ He tried not to sound resentful. He was just stating facts. Like Violet would have done.
She looked at the floor, her expression filled with remorse.
‘I’m going for a shower,’ he said, just about stopping himself from apologising for causing her distress.
As he crossed back to the corridor, heading towards the bathroom she called out. ‘I’ve made dinner by the way,’ and he nearly stopped in his tracks. Amelia never cooked.
She came to the bedroom doorway. ‘I used the chicken and the veg you brought back this morning? I mean, I bought some other stuff too– I didn’t know how hungry you’d be, but I thought we’ll probably need some provisions, get through the bank holiday so, if there’s leftovers it’s fine, isn’t it.’ She smiled, all sadness forgotten and he squashed down the feeling of annoyance that she’d used his ingredients to probably make something that looked fancy but didn’t taste of anything much. He knew this thought was unkind. He should feel touched, grateful that she’d made the effort. She must really want to get into his good books if she’d gone as far as tackling a chicken dinner.
He wondered, when he got out of the shower, whether he heard voices in the corridor, possibly felt the draught of colder air from the front door seeping in through the steam of the bathroom, but once he’d shaved and changed into his scrubs the table was set in the living room and there was no sign of any disturbance to Amelia’s careful preparations. Thank goodness he’d had the sense to fend Violet off at the pass with that text message. Much as he could have done with her cool-headed clarity right now it wouldn’t have been remotely appropriate to bring these two women into the same orbit and his negotiating skills were almost spent. After he’d eaten a slightly overcooked chicken, soggy vegetables, and a pudding that had clearly been bought and transferred to a stylish earthenware pot to look homemade, he told Amelia that he had to make a move as his shift started at seven. It was a lie but he had to get out of the flat– it no longer felt like his space. And besides, he needed to speak to Violet, explain why he’d cancelled dinner, make her understand that there were now further complications in his already messy life…
He paused as he pulled on his jacket, realising that he had no idea what he was going to say to her, no way of describing the turmoil in his head or the acidic guilt in his stomach– but it didn’t matter what he said, it didn’t matter what questions she asked him or how he responded, in that moment he just desperately wanted to see Violet, full stop.
Violet
Violet hadn’t really been aware of Amelia closing the door behind her, had no recollection of walking back down the stairs, crossing the main road or reaching the hospital entrance. It just seemed that suddenly she was there, standing in front of the double doors that opened with that ubiquitous reassuring swoosh of institutional buildings, bathing her in a blue-white light and flooding her with the noise and bustle of a place that never slept. She was still soaking wet and starting to shiver but she had no idea where to go. The mess toilets were probably the best place to get changed but she couldn’t face it just yet. She was two hours early for her shift and to have arrived on the wards would just confuse everyone. There wasn’t enough time to go home and sob on Dev’s shoulder, and besides, he would be busy planning for Marvin’s return… Marv! Thank God. He’d know what to do, what to say. He’d make her feel better.
She set her shoulders back, went to head towards the stairs and felt a buzz in her back pocket. Pulling out her phone she could see that Dev had just sent her a message.
18.01
Enjoy your last night shift V. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do– other than save lives etc
And on the screen beneath was a message from Gus that must have arrived while she’d been cycling. How much agony she’d have saved herself if she’d read it in time.
17.05
Something’s come up, Sorry, can’t do supper, I’ll see you at work– we need to talk xx
Something’s come up. Hmmm.
* * *
She was halfway along the corridor to the surgical wards when she saw a familiar male figure striding confidently in her direction. Ugh, the last person she wanted to see at the moment was Barney Snell. Her eyes darted to the large windows lining the corridor hoping to find a recess to hide in or at least a trolley to fall over for some distraction, but no such luck.
‘Dr Winters.’ His voice was surprisingly gentle as he approached her. ‘Are you alright?’
Violet tried to give the sort of smile that said,of course, couldn’t be better, that’s why I’m here two hours early, dressed in an outfit that looked nice until it was soaked in sleety hail, with snot and mascara streaking my cheeks. Clearly, she wasn’t very convincing.
‘You’re shivering.’ He sounded genuinely concerned. ‘Were you caught in the downpour?’
She nodded, a watery smile on her face. ‘Yes– I was on my bike– I…’ She faltered, not sure of what else to say.
He reached out as if to touch her and then thought better of it, returning his hand to his side. ‘You look upset,’ he said. ‘Come with me. I’ll make you a coffee.’
‘Oh, no– I– I was going to see my friend. On the ward.’ She gestured along the corridor. ‘He’s an inpatient.’
Barney raised his eyebrows in recognition. ‘Ahh, yes– it’s Marvin Gillespie, isn’t it? Room three?’
Violet looked at him, surprised. ‘Yes, that’s him. I didn’t realise you knew– I didn’t think he was your patient?’
Barney smiled. ‘Don’t look so shocked. I do tend to take notice of who comes on and off my ward even if they don’t strictly belong to me.’ He looked a little hurt. ‘I take an interest. A bit like you I guess– I seem to recall you being quite the vocal advocate for the gentleman on ward ten with the pancreatic tumour.’
‘Well yes, but…’
‘And your friend Marvin– he’s quite the celebrity amongst the surgical team. It’s not every day we get a drag queen making a Lazarus-style recovery, feels like something out of a West End show– certainly the most glamorous thing the ward has seen for a while. And the selection boxes went down pretty well too.’
