The Words Shimmer

by Jenn Matthews

“How old are you?” Mel asked.

  Ruby felt her cheeks reddening. Had she been caught staring?

  “It’s only fair.” Mel stopped in front of the door to the central garden and frowned at it, so Ruby reached to push it open for her. “Thank you.”

  “Forty-two.”

  Mel seemed to look her up and down, and Ruby indicated with a shaky hand that she should go out of the door first. Her hand floated at Mel’s back again.

  “I’ll parrot the compliment back at you.”

  “Please, if you could tell my girls that, it would be great. They seem to think I’m ready for the grave.”

  Mel wobbled on her crutches, and Ruby’s hand automatically lay flat against her spine, the belt of her jeans hard against her fingertips. Mel steadied herself, then stepped down and out.

  The sunshine caught the long straight hair clasped tightly in her ponytail as it swung like a pendulum, and Ruby smiled. Such a pretty colour. She followed her out and removed her hand once she was secure in the knowledge that Mel wouldn’t fall. They began a slow but continuous journey along the concrete path and rounded the block towards another door.

  “This is me.” Mel stood still, her mouth pulled to one side. “Thanks for the… support.”

  “That’s all right. Make it up to me at some point.” Ruby took a chance and swished her hair back. “I love a nice Zinfandel.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Mel winked, and Ruby lowered her head so she could hide behind the top rim of her glasses. Mel’s feet shifted towards the door, and she hesitated before practically jumping through. It swung closed behind her, and Ruby touched her chin as she watched her go.

  I wonder how she fractured her leg. Probably tibia fibula. She considered Mel’s predicament. She’s going to end up struggling. I know they have practical lessons.

  Chapter 3

  The minute Ruby saw the email, she locked her computer and raced out of her office and down the corridor. Skidding into the staff meeting room—which, thankfully, was not far away—she took in the sight of the whole department beginning to pack up. Her unexpected foray into patient handling with Mel had made her late checking her emails, and therefore late to a spontaneous staff meeting.

  Alexander sent her an apologetic look and then looked around, a stack of papers in his hands. He seemed unwilling for her to read what they contained even as he held them out to her. “You weren’t here. You got the last thing on the list.”

  “What’re you on about?” Ruby looked down at the collection of papers and read the words Gardening Project across the top of the first page. “What’s this?”

  Ruby’s head of department, Christine, approached them, a large grin on her face. “Lucky you. You get the kids.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Christine flounced away, indicating that Alexander should explain.

  His blue eyes followed Christine desperately, but he held a hand out towards the door. “Let’s go back to your office. You’re going to have to sit down.”

  Ruby followed him with an air of trepidation. Kids and gardening. Oh bugger. She sat when Alexander tapped the back of her worn leather desk chair.

  “It’s a project. All the lecturers got one. The university wants to implement a general rule that everyone must use their free time to help out charities. Andy got a painting project with the older adults at the nearest care home; Sonya got a youth offender’s charity.” He scratched the back of his neck and leant a hip against her desk. “You got a gardening project with Year 4s.”

  “And I’m supposed to do this when, exactly?” Ruby pressed the papers into the wood of her desk, rolling her eyes as she scanned what was written.

  “Wednesday afternoons.”

  She glared at him. Not her beloved Wednesday afternoons.

  He cleared his throat. “It, erm… starts in March next year. So you’ve got tons and tons of prep time.”

  She glared at him some more. Just for good measure.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It’s all detailed in the paperwork.” His voice was little more than a squeak.

  “What charity is this in aid of?”

  “Air Ambulance. They’re run completely by charitable funds, with minimal NHS involvement.” He relaxed, knowing he was on much safer ground now. “Good cause, don’t you think?”

  “Suppose. Was it a ‘first come, first served’ type of situation?”

  “It was.”

  Ruby groaned and stuck her fingers into her hair. “Painting and old people I would’ve been happy with.”

  “I did try to get you that one, but Andy was insistent.”

  Ruby groaned again and let out a dry sob. “I love my Wednesdays.”

  “I know.” Alexander fidgeted. “I’m sorry.” He eyed her curiously when she looked up. “Why were you late, anyway? You’re usually so prompt for your first coffee.” He pointed to the slightly steaming cup on her desk.

  She lifted it gratefully to her lips and sipped. The taste, as always, made everything feel better, even before the caffeine hit her bloodstream. “Somebody needed help getting in from the car park. Someone on crutches.”

  “Hmm.” He studied her, and she rolled her eyes. “Not your usual reaction. Had they not brought their own support?”

  She finally lifted her coffee in the air. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I met her in July. She’s a paramedic, doing her ECP training.”

  Alexander scrutinised her, but his eyes also held a teasing sparkle. “Even more baffling. You hate paramedics.”

  “I don’t hate them, exactly.” Ruby huffed at him affectionately. “I suppose she seems like one of the good ones.”

  “You reckon?” A smile tugged at his lips.

  “Anyway,” Ruby said, swerving the conversation away from the reasons why she’d run to the aid of an attractive woman, “I’m hoping you know at least something about gardening.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never been the sort of person that enjoys getting their hands dirty.”

  “Fantastic!”

  “Hey, you were late, not me.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that.” Ruby grumbled again and sipped from her coffee, hoping it would ease the ache that had started in her gut. Fabulous. Just what I need: extra-curricular activities. As if I don’t have enough to do.

  Chapter 4

  Mel rocked her plastered leg from side to side as she sat on the low wall outside the front entrance; tapped the Call button on her phone, and held it to her ear.

  “Apple Taxis.”

  “Yep, I’ve been waiting a while now for my taxi. Melissa Jackson, I’m waiting outside the uni.”

  “Let me just look for you.” The woman on the end of the phone paused as she tapped away. “I do apologise, the next free taxi will be an hour.”

  “An hour?” Mel’s heart fell into her feet. She sighed. “I’m kind of battered and broken here. I can’t sit outside for that long.”

  “I’m really sorry. One of our drivers had to go home, his wife’s in labour.” The woman sounded like this made up for everything. Or perhaps Mel was supposed to feel elated that someone she didn’t know was about to be a father.

  “Right. Well, in that case, shall we make it from the Landing Light Pub? I reckon I can make it to there.”

  “No problem. Sorry for the delay.”

  Mel hung up without saying good-bye. Her leg was hurting, although she’d managed to sit still in her first two introductory lectures, and lunch too. She needed some painkillers, and she needed a drink to take them with.

  Hauling herself to her feet, she made her achy way across the car park, along the road, and crossed over to the yellow-lit pub. A few other students, most of them half her age or younger, were gathered around. Afternoon pub goers,
even students, didn’t seem to be there to get drunk; that was what the union was for. She’d already seen one eighteen-year-old tottering about outside the small bar at the university, hugging all her new friends and promising she loved them.

  Kids.

  She didn’t mind so much. She’d missed out on that element of her teenage years, going straight into work after her A levels. She’d got a good job in retail that she worked up to, before deciding upon a different professional track. She remembered being a young adult, being fun-loving, happy, and free. She liked where she was now though.

  At least I will once I get something juicy and paracetamol-based inside me.

  The barmaid, luckily, noted her crutches and rounded the bar to collect her drink for her once she’d handed over the money. Mel gave her an appreciative nod and led the way to a quieter area, away from the younger students. She stopped and nearly lost her balance as she spotted Ruby, who had her head in one hand, a glass of something pink in front of her. She looked as if she was searching for something in the rosy depths of her wine.

  Twisting her lips against a smile, Mel indicated to the barmaid the table Ruby occupied and awkwardly dropped into the seat across from her. Her juice landed on a beer mat close to hand. “Thanks. You’re a star.”

  The barmaid nodded, then left.

  With her hair hanging over her face, Ruby looked up and blinked at the appearance of her new drinking buddy. “Hello.” Her voice held no friendliness, only dejection and depression.

  Cautiously, Mel leaned forward and tilted her head to one side. “You okay?”

  “Not really, no.” Ruby played with the stem of her glass before sitting up straight, apparently realising the company she was in. “Oh, it’s really annoying.”

  “What’s really annoying?”

  “Long story short, it looks like I’ll be in charge of thirty kids from March onwards.”

  “Blimey, that’s quick work. You should let me know the name of your fertility specialist.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “Not funny.” She sipped her wine and sighed as it slid down her throat. “I’ve been forced into running a gardening group for a class of Year 4s. All in the aid of charity.”

  A slow grin spread onto Mel’s face as she imagined being in Ruby’s situation. “That sounds like so much fun.”

  “No. No, it won’t be fun. It’ll be a disaster.” Ruby continued to look like the world was ending. “I did not sign up for it willingly.”

  Mel gave her time to continue and took the moment to shift her broken leg around a bit, trying to get comfortable. She opened her bag and took out the painkillers the hospital had given her.

  “Bloody Alexander—who is usually rather a good personal assistant, I might add—managed to sign me up to the worst possible activity he could.”

  “Gardening with kids?” Mel swallowed the pills with her juice and set her glass back on its mat. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “I hate children. School-aged children, anyhow. They are not my idea of fun.”

  “You don’t like kids?” Mel asked, unabashed surprise in her voice.

  “I really don’t. They’re snotty and small and annoying.” Ruby stretched her head back and sighed. “I don’t have the first clue how to handle them. And I am not one for gardening either.”

  “Oh dear,” Mel said into her glass before she drank. The juice was tart and fresh and just what she needed after a morning of information-gathering. “Didn’t you say you had girls? The ones who think you’re an old-aged pensioner?”

  “Yes, I do,” Ruby said, and a flicker of affection passed over her face. “Two fantastic, irritating, intelligent daughters. They’re teenagers now, almost grown up, really. Not kids anymore.”

  “Did you hate them when they were?”

  Ruby chuckled, some of the tension in her shoulders dropping away. “I didn’t hate them, no. I suppose you don’t, do you, when they’re your own?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mel replied. “I like kids—wish I’d had my own.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Ruby inhaled sharply. “Sorry. You barely know me, do you?”

  “It’s fine. I just never had the opportunity.”

  “Ah. No one good enough to have kids with?”

  “Something like that.”

  Ruby pouted just a bit, and Mel got the impression she felt bad for her. Despite her aversion to children, she felt bad that Mel had never experienced motherhood. How strange. She’s a walking oxymoron.

  “So, we’ve tackled kids. What about the gardening?” Mel swirled her juice, mixing the bits in the bottom with the rest of the drink. Mmm, proper juice.

  “I’ve not the first clue about anything garden-related,” Ruby admitted, her hand going back into her wavy dark hair. It fell over her shoulders and was so long that it nearly touched her elbows. It looked glossy and thick, not like Mel’s own hair, which was thin and had streaks of white in it.

  “Well, you know how to research, don’t you?” Mel asked, a little incredulously.

  Ruby sighed. “I’m no good with plants. The only reason the orchid in my kitchen has survived is because I don’t water it.”

  “Yeah, you’re supposed to leave them be.”

  Ruby blinked. “You know about plants?”

  Mel felt her cheeks redden and stared into her diminishing drink. “Um, I may know a thing or two.”

  “Would you help me?”

  Mel looked up at the brazen request.

  “I know we barely know each other, but I’m serious about this. I could kill a weed without even trying and I could use all the help I can get.”

  “Not exactly a compliment of the highest order.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, well, like I said, I don’t know anything about gardening, I don’t know anyone who does, and I’m terrible with kids. As I said earlier, this is going to be an unmitigated disaster.”

  Mel sipped her juice. “What happened to the ‘all paramedics are gung-ho ego-maniacs’ rule?”

  Ruby blushed too, her hand going to her cheek. “You seem to be the exception.”

  Mel shook her head. “No, I’m the norm,” she stated, pushing her backside away from the chair. She huffed and smoothed back her hair in its ponytail. “You really are infuriating.”

  “I’m stubborn too.” Ruby’s eyes were forlorn.

  The waning pain in her leg shifted upwards into her temples. She sat back down slowly, carefully, and placed her hands on the sticky table in front of her. “I see that.”

  “Every paramedic that I’ve met—”

  “That literally cannot be true,” Mel interrupted, one hand in the air, palm up, in a half-shrug. “How many have you actually met? Recently, I mean.”

  “Since the degree came in?”

  Mel nodded.

  “A few.”

  “You do bank shifts in A and E?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Just on the wards, then?”

  A pause. “Maybe.”

  “So, you only see paramedics making scheduled transfers. Which is, what, once in a blue moon?”

  Ruby shrugged.

  “Did you have a bad experience with a paramedic?” Mel lowered her voice, and forced herself to offer a non-judgemental tone.

  “I may have.”

  She squinted, laced her fingers together on the table, and sat back. The ache in her head continued. “So your one bad experience has made you prejudiced.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Ruby closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, she couldn’t seem to look at Mel. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.” Mel gave her more space, hoping she was the kind of person who would talk if you gave them a silence to fill.

  “We had a male patient transferred from Queen’s—spinal and head injuries. The
y were made worse by the manner in which he was transferred.”

  “Severe trauma? Probably an ECA driving; the paramedic would have been in the back with the patient.”

  Ruby nodded. “I suppose so.”

  “The ECA was a bit heavy-handed? Perhaps a bit careless?”

  Ruby shrugged.

  “You weren’t there, in the truck.” Again, another statement.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you’ve no idea about the condition of the road, other road users, or the weather at the time?”

  “No.”

  “So you placed the blame on the crew transferring, as if they’d done it on purpose.”

  Silence from across the table. Very slowly, Ruby lifted her glass and stared into its depths, then took a sip. She placed the glass on its coaster and returned her gaze to Mel.

  “Sounds like prejudice to me.” Mel couldn’t help expressing that opinion, especially as Ruby had expressed so many already.

  Ruby sighed heavily and asked, “If I admit it, will you help me with the bloody garden?”

  Cheeky so-and-so. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’d kill each other. You’re arrogant. And I don’t like that.”

  “I know I am.” Ruby sounded like it shouldn’t be an issue.

  Mel huffed again and stretched her arms above her head, the crack in her shoulders feeling wonderful after a whole morning using her crutches. She rolled her wrists, relished the pops they made too. Then she wiggled her shoulders and relaxed. “What’d be in it for me?”

  “You love children. The opportunity to work with a…” Ruby bit her lip. “An adorable bunch of young people.”

  A laugh shot out of Mel’s mouth, unwelcome but inevitable due to Ruby’s desperate attempt at talking about children like they were an asset to the world. Mel shook her head in amusement. “You’re a real piece of work, d’you know that?”

  Ruby barked out a laugh. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “So you’ll help?”

  “No, sorry. I really don’t have time.”

  Lines appeared in the corners of Ruby’s eyes as she narrowed them. “There’s something else. Something that might sway you.”