had meant everything, right up till this point. She could understand now how upset Rebecca would be, not about the job but about her husband’s reaction.
‘Let me take you in to Polly,’ Alison said when he had calmed down. ‘And I’ll let your wife know that you’re here.’
He did really well, he smiled and said all the right things to Polly—that the interview didn’t matter a scrap, just as long as she and her mother were okay, that they would be fine, that they were all going to be fine. Rarely for Alison, she felt a sting of tears at the backs of her eyes and left them to it to go and speak with the wife.
‘Hi, Rebecca.’ Alison came in as Nick and the trauma surgeons looked at the patient’s arm, and though Nick was concentrating, he still heard her speak. ‘Polly’s fine, her dad’s with her—and he’s fine. He really is okay.’ Rebecca started crying and bizarrely for a second it sounded to Nick as if it was the husband who was hurt. ‘I’ve told him that when the surgeons have finished looking at your arm I’ll bring him in to see you. Rebecca, he’s holding up really well.’ And the arm Nick was holding down for the surgeons to assess relaxed just a little bit beneath his fingers.
‘David’s told me all that’s been going on,’ Alison continued, ‘and, honestly, now that he knows you two are going to be okay, he really is fine.’
‘He can’t cope with things,’ Rebecca said, and it was the first proper conversation she’d managed since her arrival.
‘Not the little things perhaps,’ Alison said, and stroked the poor woman’s cheek. ‘But he’s dealing well with this. Maybe he’s finding out he’s stronger than he thinks.’
‘So much hinges on today…’
‘I know.’ She glanced up at Nick. ‘David had an important job interview today,’ Alison explained, then looked back at the patient. ‘When things are more settled we could ring the company and explain what’s happened.’ She paused and hoped, not wanting to presume but grateful when he stepped in.
‘I’m happy to do that,’ Nick said.
‘That’s good,’ Alison said to Rebecca. ‘It will sound better coming from a doctor.’ And Nick looked down at his patient and saw her close her eyes in relief, felt her body relax and he realised that head CT wasn’t quite so urgent.
‘There’s a lot of stress going on for them,’ Alison murmured to Nick. ‘They really didn’t need this.’
‘Thanks,’ Nick said. He realised he’d learned something, and whatever it was he decided he would process it later.
As Ellie prepared Rebecca for Theatre, knowing what would put his patient’s mind at rest more than any medication, Nick made the phone call Alison had suggested, then returned to tell the couple how it had gone. ‘They were really grateful for you letting them know,’ Nick told David. ‘Especially with all that’s going on. They’ve asked you to ring later in the day or tomorrow if you get a chance to arrange another time. They sound pretty keen,’ he added, then glanced up as Alison came in with a nervous Polly.
‘Here’s Mum,’ Alison said, and Rebecca and Polly had a kiss and a cuddle before Rebecca was taken to Theatre, because only seeing her mum would truly reassure the anxious child.
‘I’m going to take her up to the children’s ward soon,’ Alison told Rebecca. ‘Just for observation. They’ll make a fuss of her. You can ring her this evening when you’re back from Theatre and feeling better—or one of the staff might bring her up for a little visit.’
‘She’s nice…’ Rebecca said when Alison had left. Nick agreed, saying that Polly was being well looked after by her, then told his patient to put her oxygen mask back on because he didn’t want to think about how nice Alison was—there was more to Alison than there was time to know, more to her than there was scope to explore. No, he really didn’t need this.
Heading into the staffroom for a quick lunch break later, when Ellie asked if he was going to the social club that night, it would have been far more sensible to answer that gleam in her eye with a smile and a ‘Yes’, or take Moira up on that offer to go to that Irish pub, because instinct told him that they knew the rules—that he was on holiday and not here for a long time, just a good one, but instead all he really noticed was that Alison had glasses on today while doing the crossword and didn’t look up to hear his response, though her cheeks burnt red and her ears were pink as she pretended to concentrate on the puzzle in front of her. Because the seat next to her was the only one left, he chose it, peered over her shoulder and, yes, she was stuck on the same word as he’d been. He was about to nudge her, to tease her, because ‘leitmotif’ was a word it had taken him a full morning to get, but he deliberately stopped himself.
‘Leitmotif!’ He heard the triumph in her voice and ignored it, felt the haste of her pen beside him, and it took every bit of effort not to turn round and join her in that moment.
No, this Nick really didn’t need.
‘ALISON doesn’t want to be my friend.’
He lasted two days.
Two days trying not to notice how her neck went a little bit pink when he spoke to her. Two days ignoring the fragrance of her hair when their heads occasionally met over a patient, or that now and then she’d rub her forehead and on would come her glasses. Two days of just talking, just keeping it as it was, then, as happened at times, but had to happen on this day, Alison came off the worse for wear with an inebriated patient. Showered and changed into the most threadbare, faded scrubs, Nick got the most astonishing view of what appeared to be a purple bra and panties, before Sheila pointed the problem out and Alison put on a theatre gown. Like a dressing gown over pyjamas, Nick thought, and then tried not to think, and then just stopped thinking for a dangerous moment as she sat next to him writing up his notes, her ponytail wet and heavy, and he forgot, just simply forgot not to flirt.
‘Why don’t you want to be my friend, Alison?’ He nudged her as if they were sitting in a classroom and Alison, who wasn’t having the greatest day, annoyed with herself for not replacing her spare uniform, found herself trying not to smile, yet she did carry on the joke and put her arm over the notes she was writing as if he was trying to copy her.
‘I am your friend, Nick.’
‘Not on Facebook…’
‘I haven’t got time to play online…’ Alison said. ‘Some of us live and work in the real world—I’m studying to get on this trauma course.’
‘You’re friends with Ellie.’ He grinned and then stopped, and so too did Alison. There was this charge in the air; it would be far safer to carry on writing, or just get up and go, but she didn’t, she just sat. ‘Are you going to have to get the bus wearing that? Only I can—’
‘I washed my uniform and begged them on the rehab ward to use their tumbledryer…’ She didn’t get to finish because screams filled the department and Nick jumped up as a man was stretchered in, sucking on the gas, in sheer agony at the prospect of being moved from the stretcher to the gurney.
‘Can I have a quick look before you move him? ‘
His jeans had already been cut off and it was a rather horrible sight, his dislocated patella causing the whole leg to look deformed. It was an excruciating injury and Alison blinked as, without X-ray, without delay, Nick told the man to suck on the gas and with one flick popped it back.
A shriek filled the department and then a sob and then the sound of relieved silence.
‘Let’s get him on the gurney and then we’ll need X-rays.’ He chatted for a moment to his extremely grateful patient, then chatted a bit more to the rather impressed paramedics, then he walked over to where Alison was now on the computer, checking some blood results,