by Aimée
“Well – that was quick, Lieutenant – are you sure you should be back on your feet quite so soon?”
“You’re the doc, Major – but your nurse said as long as I felt fine there was no reason for me to stay in bed if I didn’t want to. And I really – really – wanted a shower. Also …”
The younger woman looked at Greyson’s face and even though she saw her red eyes, she didn’t mention them. Instead, she extended her hand and put in on the major’s arm: “Also – I wanted to tell you the baby’s name – she’s Julie Greyson Marquet. I’d love it if you agreed to be her godmother.”
Greyson bit her lips, hesitated and nodded. Two days later, the baby was baptised by the army chaplain from the nearest base before being airlifted with her mother to England.
Sixteen years afterwards, Aurélie and her now husband Philip were still two of her best friends, and as they were still serving, rather absent friends, which was why she had been tasked with keeping an eye on their daughter. She hadn’t seen much of her goddaughter before but at least she was a teenager now. Not that she had much experience with either toddlers or teenagers but at least you could hold a decent conversation with a sixteen-years-old. She hoped they could establish a good relationship – any kind of relationship at all, even – if they ever managed to meet… Her musings were interrupted by a knock on her door, reminding her that she had patients in the waiting room.
When she got home that night, before immersing herself in her books – she rued the day she had decided she needed to go for the more challenging option, a MA – she sent another email to Julie, telling her she would be glad to take her out for tea the next weekend. Then she went in her kitchen and discovered that once more, she had forgotten she needed to go shopping before coming home. Therefore, supper would have to be canned Cream of chicken and toast – and chocolate – luckily, she always had a stock of chocolate bars in her cupboard. She brought her spoils into the living-room and lowered her reading-glasses from her head to her nose. She ate one or two spoonfuls of soup before opening her book on the philosophy of moral decision-making, one of the courses she had chosen thinking she already knew a lot about that from her officer training – a few weeks into the course, she’d already discover that had been a spurious assumption…
Chapter 7
And my heart became secretly enticed, And my hand threw a kiss from my mouth. Job 31:27
Angela resigned herself to another sleepless night and reached for her e-reader. If she had been at home, she would have taken a little white pill and gone to the land of Nod in a jiffy, but she was sleeping in the guest bedroom in the school boarding house. The housemistress had had a family emergency and as head, she was the obvious replacement for the weekend. Some of the boarders had gone home but most of them were – she hoped – safely tucked in their rooms for the night. St Hilda’s was supposed to be the first step into the sixth-formers’ independent lives – after all, in a year, they would go to university. Every year had its share of troublemakers, but so far, this year had been remarkably quiet, apart, of course, from her own personal tragedy. Nevertheless, Angela couldn’t settle and not only because she was in a strange bed in an impersonal room. She had even decided to stay half-dressed, in case she was needed in the night. The black yoga pants and black sweatshirt were a far cry from her usual business suits, but at least they weren’t pyjamas. Around three in the morning, she was finally drowsing when a frantic knock at her door jolted her awake.
“Ms Arlingham? Could you come quick, please? It’s Julie – she’s… Not okay.”
Even though the girl was obviously trying to appear in control, Angela could hear her fear and it made her anxious. Was this how the head of Sybil’s school had felt that day? When she had found her daughter unconscious? Had Ms Watford had the same sense of foreboding? She couldn’t fall to pieces anyway – she had to remain strong in front of the students. And her guts could be completely wrong. Julie and her roommate Megan, who’d come to knock at her door, were both high-achievers and usually not the kind to get in trouble. Angela hurried after Megan with all the worst-cases scenarios churning in her head. Her first glance at Julie told her that she was at least still alive, which was good. She was also apparently having fits and sweating heavily, which wasn’t so good. Angela came closer and laid her hand on the girl’s forehead – burning hot. She glared sternly at Megan: “What happened?”
“I – I don’t know. She fell asleep, and then she woke up, and she said she was seeing strange things, like, lights and things, and…”
“Right – I get it. And what happened before that?”
“Nothing! I swear - nothing.”
Angela gave the girl a withering look: “Don’t take me for a fool, Megan – I wasn’t born yesterday. What did she take?”
Not born yesterday, but not so old that she couldn’t remember her university days either. When she and her friends had “experimented” with pretty much everything. Especially the cheaper things, since none of them had been rolling in money. Like cheap booze – Malibu and coke, White Lightening – good ways to get drunk pretty quickly. Or LSD. Or ecstasy. They hadn’t done that a lot, because none of them really liked getting high. Mike had had enough chaos in his life to want to keep his grip on reality. Losing his home and his family had hit him hard enough. Liz was too afraid to end up like the other girls from her estate, a teenage mum with no life prospects. Liz liked the idea of doing something her straight-laced parents wouldn’t approve of, but after two bad trips, she had had to concede that drugs did nothing for her. As for Angela herself – she had hated that sensation of losing control. But even with that limited experience, she could recognise someone who was obviously coming down from a high. And coming down badly. She probably should call the paramedics and get the girl to hospital. There would be questions – the reputation of the school would suffer. She might lose her job. Could she find another way?
Julie appeared semi-conscious but the convulsions had stopped and she seemed quieter.
“What did she take?” Angela repeated.
“Err – I’m not sure- I think – she came back with some pills and …”
“Right – don’t move. Stay with her. I’m going to get the doctor. Try to make her drink some water. I’ll be right back.”
Angela hurried to her office and rifled through her drawers to find the number of the school medical officer, hoping he or she would come even in the middle of the night…She rang the first number on the list – the doctor probably wouldn’t answer her phone, and Angela would have to fall back on her first plan – paramedics. The phone rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered:
“Greyson Walsden. What is it?”
“Doctor. It’s Ms Arlingham – St Hilda’s headmistress. I have a student with a medical issue and – could you come, please?”
“What’s the issue?” The doctor’s tone was sharp and Angela took a deep breath: “I think it’s drugs – look, can you just come, please? I’d – I’d feel better if she was seen by a professional.”
“Oh, right – so I’ve got to come just to make you feel better, is that it?”
Angela sighed: “Never mind – I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll just call an ambulance and take her to the hospital.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
The doctor hung up abruptly and Angela stared at the phone in her hand for a minute. There had been something in the woman’s voice… Brusque, but also authoritative and kind of reassuring. She didn’t seem to be called Eliott though – or maybe she had made a mistake looking at the list. Angela hurried back to Julie’s room and saw with relief that although the girl was still very sweaty, she had also regained consciousness and looked quite sheepish. After telling the two girls that the doctor was coming, she went to the door to look for her.
About ten minutes later, a Mazda screeched on the gravel in front of the house and a tall blonde alighted from the sports car. She reached on the passenger seat for a black leather bag and stro
de towards Angela.
“Doctor Eliott – thank you for coming!”
“I’m not Doctor Eliott – she’s on leave. I’m her locum – Doctor Walsden – I told you that on the phone.”
“Oh, yes; of course – sorry. You did. Thank you for coming, Doctor. I’ll take you to her now.”
“Just doing my job,” replied the blonde curtly.
Greyson wasn’t in the best of moods. She had sort of assumed that in a civilian and non-hospital job, she would get to sleep full nights. But the locum job had come with that caveat – she had to be available for emergency visits to the school. She wouldn’t have minded if one of the students had come down with a real medical issue, like appendicitis, or meningitis, or – or whatever. But a teenager experimenting with drugs – well, either she had overdosed - then her life was in danger and the head had committed a serious error of judgement, or she was just feeling a bit rough, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. And it made her angry – as a doctor, she shouldn’t judge. And she had been hoping preparing for her new career had helped her correct that in her nature, but obviously it hadn’t – not enough.
Therefore, she knew she was barely polite to the woman who had called her. Only the good manners drilled into her since childhood and her innate gallantry prevented her from being actively rude to the redhead – the redhead she thought she had seen before, but with only a few hours of sleep couldn’t place. She couldn’t help noticing that even in rumpled clothes and with tired eyes, the younger woman was extremely attractive. Petite, not quite slim nor plump – just right, in fact – with wide blue eyes staring at her like she was the new Messiah…
“Do you think I should contact her family?” asked Angela hesitantly as they went up the stairs. “Only they’re abroad and…” She hated to sound so needy, but she was thrown by the doctor’s take-charge manner. She had also been expecting someone else – although she hadn’t yet met Doctor Eliott – the school nurse usually took care of all medical issues – she had been expecting a much older, gruff woman – a little like the previous doctor. And this one certainly didn’t fit the bill…
“I’m not a psychic, Ms Arlingham. I haven’t seen the patient yet, so I can’t possibly tell you!” snapped Greyson.
“Oh – oh yes, of course.” Angela blushed – how stupid of her! She hadn’t had much sleep and the situation rattled her, but she wasn’t usually that clueless. She was used to being in charge – in control. The doctor’s tone made her want to snap right back at her, but she needed her, so she tried to remain civil. Even if it was obvious that the woman took her for a fool.
“Here, Doctor – first door on the right. This is …”
Greyson opened the door and strode into the room and stopped to take in the tableau. Behind her, Angela heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that Julie was sitting up and had a little more colour in her cheeks. Greyson stifled a gasp and reddened as she was greeted by her patient: “Hey! The army to the rescue! So cool! Long time no see, Colonel! I’m so glad you’re here – I do love you, you know! Come and give me a hug?”
Greyson scowled and replied in freezing tones: “Julie – I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that.”
“What? I’m showing respect – lighten up a bit, won’t you?”
“I’ve told you again and again – I don’t want you to call me either “Marraine” or “Colonel”. If you want to show me respect, do what I asked you to do!”
Greyson walked up to the bed and mechanically rubbed her hands with antibacterial gel. Then, in stony silence, very much aware that both the head and the other girl were looking at her with eyes full of questions, she looked at Julie’s pupils. Slightly dilated, but almost back to their normal size. Digging in her bag for her instruments, she took Julie’s pulse and listened to her heart. Her face could have been carved in stone, and even still under the drugs’ influence, Julie began to look at her apprehensively. She seemed more afraid of her godmother than of her headmistress. Still in the same freezing voice, Greyson asked her what she had taken.
“Err – I’m not sure – like two pills. Molly, you know, just for fun. The others were doing it, and…”
Greyson turned towards Angela: “You should take better care of your students, Ms. Arlingham. This could have had a very different ending, you know.”
Angela wanted to lash out at the other woman but she knew the doctor was right – she had dodged a bullet. She swallowed back her sarcastic reply and answered meekly: “I know – you’re right.” Even given the seriousness of the moment, she couldn’t help being intrigued by the doctor. Was “Colonel” only a nickname? And “Marraine”? Obviously the two knew each other, but “marraine” meant godmother in French…
Greyson turned back to Julie and her friend and glared at them, even though her goddaughter was the one she was really mad at… “So, because the others were doing it, you thought it was a good idea? Seems your friend here didn’t – or maybe she just resisted better?”
Julie looked at her friend affectionately: “No – she didn’t – she’s got epilepsy, so she can’t do anything fun. Poor Megan!”
Greyson looked incensed: “Fun? You think doing drugs is fun? Do you have any idea how many people die from that? Do you?”
Julie must have decided foolishly that she could appease her godmother: “Come on, Marraine – don’t tell me they don’t do drugs in the forces – all that stress and all. People need to loosen up – everyone does it. We were just celebrating a bit. But I guess we bought the wrong thing – it was a bit cheap, next time we’ll pay a bit more.”
This was when slowly, deliberately, Greyson raised her hand, bent down and brought it down on Julie’s cheek. Hard. The sound of the slap resonated in the room. Julie touched her cheek gingerly. It was the first time she’d been the recipient of her godmother’s wrath, and the first time anyone had hit her at all.
“In the army, if you get caught with drugs, you get kicked out – definitively” replied Greyson coldly as she walked out of the room without a backward glance. Once outside, she found her way back to the stairs and to the hall, leant against the wall and breathed deeply.
She’d put all her anger, all her disappointment into that slap, and she felt – she didn’t know how exactly she felt. She was still angry with her goddaughter, of course, but most of all angry with herself – she had never hit anyone. It was kind of frowned upon when you were an officer – or a doctor. She sank to the floor and put her head in her hands.
Chapter 8
Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” […] For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 11:30, 12:10
A few minutes later, as she was trying to calm her racing heart and to keep her head from spinning, she felt someone sinking slowly beside her and uttering a muted expletive when her body hit the hard floor. A hand crept on her shoulder and began to massage it gently. Greyson’s first instinct was to shrug it off but she suddenly too exhausted to find the strength to fight the hand away.
“Doctor Walsden? Are you okay?”
“I could bloody kill her”, Greyson murmured – and as she looked up to the headmistress, she suddenly remembered where she had seen her before – the funeral. The young girl who had been buried a few months before. Immediately, she wanted to take her words back - could she possibly be more tactless? She heard Angela swallow audibly and she turned slightly towards the redhead: “Sorry - I shouldn’t have said that - I’m just - so bloody angry!”
Angela could well understand the doctor’s anger. Julie was the woman’s goddaughter and not her daughter, but… If Sybil had taken drugs, she would have skinned her alive – but then, she would never know… She wished – she gulped, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. She blinked furiously and drove her mind firmly away from thoughts of her daughter. She scrambled up and so did the doctor. Angela managed a small smile: “I think the girls will be all righ
t for now. Until of course I rake Julie over the coals. And I guess now I don’t need to try and contact her parents, huh?”
Greyson nodded sheepishly: “You don’t – they’re serving in Africa, and I’m her guardian.”
“Well – that’s sorted. What would you say to breakfast? It’s a bit early but I don’t think any of us is getting back to sleep again.”
Greyson thought frantically for a minute – if she said yes, she would probably have some explaining to do. Julie had said too much… She should refuse and get herself back home at the double. Moreover, she was feeling incredibly guilty about her reaction, and would have liked nothing more than to disappear into a mousehole. Failing that, to go and lick her wounds at home – because even though her reaction had been far from appropriate, she felt utterly humiliated that her own goddaughter had done something as stupid.
On the other hand, there was something incredibly compelling about the headmistress. Not only was the woman absolutely gorgeous, even though she looked pale and more than a little rattled, but she also seemed to have a multi-faced personality that appealed to Greyson very much. A damsel in distress with a tinge of bossiness… Intriguing and seductive. Notwithstanding the fact that if she didn’t have a cup of coffee very soon, she might just fall asleep on her feet. She had spent most of the night studying, and when the phone had rung, she had barely gone to bed.