Page 8 of The Night Shift
She looked confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘You said, surprise you. So I…’ He trailed off lamely.
‘Oh, yes. I see.Boo!To make me jump. Got you.’
He flicked the television on to cover his embarrassment, selecting a repeat episode ofIbiza Club Reps.
‘Festive,’ Violet said, but she continued watching and they discussed the relative merits of the various tattoos on display across the tanned flesh of the holiday resort staff.
‘I clerked in a patient a few months back with England inked over his right bicep,’ said Gus. ‘Except they’d left out an ‘N’ so it was Egland. He said it had taken him a month to notice and when he’d gone back and complained the only thing they could do was put a little arrow with a smaller N above it. Like a spelling correction at primary school. It was literally like a kid learning to write. Except it’s on his arm now. Forever.’
‘My housemate’s got some decent tattoos,’ said Violet taking a sip of her tea. ‘But he did make the classic mistake of having the name of the guy he was madly in love with written in Sanskrit across his lower back only to catch the same guy in bed with someone else a few days later.’
Gus grimaced sympathetically as Violet continued.
‘He’s since had it covered over with some Aztec symbol that the tattoo artist said meant “warrior”. Dev says that really it just means “Don’t be a dick”.’
‘Meaning the ex-boyfriend?’
‘Yes, but also himself for being swept up in the romance. And to be honest he uses it pretty indiscriminately. If I’m having a go at him he’ll just point to his left lumbar region– like,don’t be a dick, Violet.’
‘Does he need to do that a lot?’
‘Of course not.’ She smiled. ‘I’m never a dick.’
She pointed at the screen where a muscular man on roller-skates was carrying a tray of flaming sambucas to a poolside table. ‘Anyway, that sleeve is really too much. I mean there’s not even a pattern. It’s basically a blue arm– like someone set fire to a smurf.’
Just then Anjali appeared through the main door, rubbing her eyes. ‘What shite are you two watching?’
‘Nothing.’ Gus flicked the television off and glanced conspiratorially at Violet as Anjali made her way to the kitchen area.
‘I’m going to put some toast on,’ she called through the hatch. ‘Either of you want any?’
Violet screwed up her nose in consideration. ‘Go on then,’ she shouted over. ‘Brown please. Not too much butter though, Anjali. And please God don’t put any marmite on it. I’ll have jam though. If there is any. Only if it’s the seedless raspberry one. Thanks.’
‘Treat yourself,’ said Gus. ‘It is Christmas.’
‘Ibiza Club Reps, teaandtoast,’ she said. ‘Living the dream.’
He laughed, calling over to Anjali and asking her to put some on for him too. Through the hatch he could see her emptying half a loaf of bread onto the counter and dropping the slices into the catering-sized toaster, a treasured item within the hospital. Management had made the mistake of removing it for health and safety reasons after a cockroach had been found in the crumb tray, and again when a corner of bread wedged in the grill had caught fire and set the smoke alarm off. But they soon realised they’d have a mutiny on their hands if the toaster’s absence became permanent.
‘I’ll fill it up,’ Anjali said. ‘I saw Dinesh making his way over here. They’ve only just finished stabilising that lad from the motorbike accident. He’s been in theatre for five hours.’
‘And Dinesh eats like a horse even when he’s not been assisting in a pelvic fracture repair,’ said Gus. ‘Do you remember that time we went to the All You Can Eat night at Mancha’s and he totally cleaned them out?’
He and Anjali slipped into a fond reminiscence of their student days while waiting for the toast to pop up. They’d been in the same year at medical school, graduating four years ago, and they occasionally bumped into each other on various hospital jobs. Gus was intrigued as to what Anjali thought of her current foundation year doctor. He imagined Violet would be interesting to work with, entertaining certainly, although perhaps her clumsiness, both physical and social, would be a bit of a liability. As Anjali returned to the kitchen he glanced back at the woman in question.
Violet, evidently bored by their conversation, had taken the opportunity to close her eyes again, leaning her head back against the cracked pleather of the mess sofa. Her cropped hair was tufting up at the front and her lips were slightly parted. She was graceful in repose, Gus thought to himself. Alabaster skin and a rosebud mouth, like a Disney princess or a Millais painting. However, the effect was ruined a moment later when she woke with a full body jolt and gasping snort of air as her leg kicked out and hit the table, causing the baubles on the neighbouring tree to sway slightly. Gus, as usual, had the good manners to pretend he hadn’t noticed.
Anjali brought out the plate of toast topped with a sprig of plastic holly she’d obviously found in the cupboard and presented it to her colleagues with a flourish. ‘Happy Christmas!’ she said.
‘Gawd bless us, everyone!’ said Gus in a cockney accent and they laughed, reaching out to grab the warm buttery slices and feeling that odd kinship of colleagues united in work while the rest of the world slept through to Christmas morning.
Violet
It was half past nine by the time Violet walked in through her front door and she was absolutely shattered. The house was cold, having been empty all night, but her housemate Dev had left the Christmas tree lights on and they were emitting a warm glow that diffused through to the hallway. He’d also left a note on the kitchen counter that made her smile.
Happy Christmas Gorgeous!
