They were having a true Indian summer and even though it was the last few days of September, the sun was breaking through the clouds as Michael climbed into his red BMW and found his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He put them on and looked at his face in the rear-view mirror. He’d planned to trim his goatee beard this morning but because of the distraction with Davina he’d forgotten. He’d have to remember tonight, he thought as he turned the ignition, because she hated it when it was too long and scratchy. He pulled out of the cul-de-sac and drove out of Birstall village towards the factory where he worked as a process technologist.
Parking outside the reception doors, Michael got out of the car and inhaled the familiar smell of fresh meat which wafted in from the back of the factory. They produced turkey and pork joints for all the major retailers and, he thought as he hurried through the main doors, it was heading up towards their busiest time of year – Christmas.
He breezed into the small office he shared with his colleague, Tony. ‘Morning,’ he called as cheerfully as he could manage.
Tony glanced up from his PC and smiled. ‘Good morning. Christ, you look rough.’
Michael grimaced. ‘More aggravation at home…’
Tony was fifty-six, nearly bald, and as Davina had once commented, he had a face like an Irish elf. He’d worked for the company for over twenty years and Michael couldn’t begin to list the knowledge he’d learned from him.
Tony resumed typing but nodded his head at Michael in understanding.
Michael sat down at the only other desk in the corner with his back to Tony and booted up his computer. They often sat like this for hours in peaceful harmony planning factory trials and processing documents. Someone had once suggested moving their desks so they would at least be facing one another but they’d shook their heads in unison – they were happy the way they were. He heard Tony tap the send button on his email and then swing his legs over the chair. Half turning, he patted him on the shoulder.
Michael explained. ‘She just looks so bloody miserable all the time. She has no interest in the house, or me, for that matter…’
‘It’s understandable she’s not fired up about the house. I mean, it’s taken you two years since you moved in to get everything the way you want it. There can’t be any rooms left to decorate.’
Michael scanned through a few emails then turned slightly in his chair, casually laying his arm over the back to look at Tony. ‘I know. But surely now the house is perfect she should be enjoying it?’
Tony sat forward with his short legs splayed and his elbows rested on his knees. He made a steeple with his fingers. ‘What are you expecting her to do? Go from room to room cooing with delight? She’s probably just settling in and, if she’s being quiet, it could just be a sign of contentment…’
Michael thought about this theory but decided he could tell the difference between contentment and uninterested boredom. ‘Hmm, maybe I’m making mountains out of molehills,’ he said. ‘But there’s one room she certainly doesn’t want to be in and that’s the bedroom!’
Tony lowered his head and looked down at his well-worn, factory issue boots. ‘Aahh…’ he muttered.
Michael felt guilty. He shouldn’t be bothering Tony with his sex life but felt if he didn’t talk to someone his head would explode. ‘Sorry, mate. It’s just it’s the start of our best week, if you know what I mean.’ He shuffled uncomfortably on the hard plastic chair. ‘She always has the calendar in the kitchen marked with big crosses and checks her temperature regularly. But since late June the calendar is blank and I’ve never seen her with the thermometer once.’
Tony scratched his beard and looked up at Michael’s wall planner with the large black crosses he’d made with a marker pen. ‘Maybe she just wants a break from trying for a baby? The pressure on her must be enormous.’
Michael felt the hairs bristle on the back of his neck and raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s not the only one under stress here, Tony. I’m the one who has to perform every time and I’m not complaining,’ he said running a hand over his sweaty forehead.
Tony held up his hands in surrender. ‘Hey, I was only saying…’
Michael felt crap. He was snapping at his good friend unnecessarily and Tony was only trying to help. He could feel the knot of tension in the side of his neck begin to throb. He’d had it since they arrived home from holiday and had been blaming the two suitcases he’d carried. But now it was simply stress and frustration, he decided, and it was driving him crazy. ‘Sorry, Tony,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m just so worried about her…’
‘Yeah, of course, you’re bound to be. Look, let’s get this morning’s work organised. It’ll help keep it off your mind for a while.’
***
Davina heard Michael’s car pull away and she padded back into the bedroom. She knew hiding from another confrontation with her husband was pathetic and she was behaving like an idiot but didn’t know how to explain the way she felt. She thought of his morning attempts to rouse her and wanted to scream. God, she hated it when he was so needy and tried to paw at her. It was constant when it came to this week of the month – he was unrelenting. She knew he was desperate for a baby, and so was she, but it just wasn’t happening.
She sighed heavily, plopped down onto the stool in front of the dressing table and looked around the room. They’d painted the whole room white. Michael had sneered at first, saying that it would be blinding. But once she’d added the soft grey carpet, bedding and table lamps he’d had to admit it was peaceful and serene.
She fastened her bra and became determined to make it up to him tonight. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, because she did. It was just that making love, dare she even think it, had become so routine. When they made love now it was to make a baby; it wasn’t because she was full of desire and lust. She stared at her face in the mirror – but surely this happened to most couples in their thirties when they’d been married a while? And was this what everyone called the seven year itch? She shrugged her shoulders. All she knew was that she felt a large bubble of excitement inside her wanting to break free. She didn’t want to plan ahead and always be in the safety of a bed in the dark. Then she remembered their holiday in Turkey.
They’d been sunbathing all day on a quiet secluded beach. She’d looked at his slim, toned body lying on the sun lounger and had longed to touch him. The desire had built until she wanted him so badly she couldn’t think of anything else. They’d been covered in sand and were hot and sticky and she’d wanted to ease his Speedos aside, climb on top of him and ride him hard until they were both spent. ‘But I don’t want to wait till we get back to the room,’ she’d cooed as she slid her hand inside his trunks. He’d been appalled at the thought of doing it on the beach, and even though she’d pleaded that there wasn’t a soul in sight he’d insisted on going back to their room, by which time the urge of lust and recklessness had left her.
She sighed heavily. How on earth did she tell him that she longed for change? He’d want to know why, after years of happy marriage, it suddenly wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t be able to answer him because she didn’t know herself, and she couldn’t think of a way to tell him without knowing he’d be incredibly hurt. She pushed it from her mind, finished dressing for work in blue trousers and a crisp white shirt and hurried out to her car.
***
When she’d been promoted last year to the manager’s post on the orthopaedic ward, where she’d worked for ten years, she’d spent the extra money on a new Mini. It was cream with a beautiful caramel colour interior, drove like a dream and she loved it. Michael had told her to spend the money on what she wanted because she’d worked extremely hard to get where she was. But as she pulled out onto the main road twinges of guilt niggled at the back of her mind. Any other woman would kill to have Michael as a husband and she was being unfair to him. She also knew that most of her friends thought she was spoilt, which, she decided, she probably was.
The traffic heading into Leicester that
morning was heavy and she sat, without moving, in a queue at the lights as they turned from green to red. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and watched a young woman pushing her baby in a buggy along the pavement towards the park. A lump of misery gathered in the back of her throat and she moaned softly. Why couldn’t she do it? She was successful at everything else in her life except the basic female task of getting pregnant. They’d both been checked out by the doctors who’d told them there was no reason why they couldn’t make babies. She’d followed all the guidelines, but month after month nothing happened. She was beginning to hate this week of the month now and the sight of that bloody calendar on the wall in the kitchen filled her with dread. The blank boxes with the crosses seemed like a recording of her constant failure and she thought of them as a row of hurdles she had to climb over time and time again. Then later in the month when she woke with period cramps, she felt as if she’d fallen flat on her face and everyone was laughing at her pathetic attempts. The cars in front of her moved and she wiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand.
***
As Davina drove into a parking space at the back of the hospital surgical block she saw the new male nurse climbing off the back of his red and white Yamaha RD motorbike and waved at him. She smiled to herself; now why wasn’t she surprised to see him riding something so strong and powerful – it suited his personality perfectly.
He waved back and she realised he was waiting for her so they could walk into work together. She gathered her bags, climbed out of the car and watched him swagger towards her. Stewart Dunn was Mr Charm. He casually flirted with her every time she saw him, but so far she was managing to ignore it. When he’d first started on the ward six weeks ago the flirting had irritated her but it was done with such a happy, carefree manner that now she found herself enjoying his attention and she looked forward to seeing him. It brightened up her day.
‘Morning,’ he said looking her up and down. ‘Navy and white, that’s a lovely combination. Smart, yet casually on-trend.’
She giggled and shook her head in mock disapproval. ‘Stewart, you really shouldn’t make comments like that…’
He took the heavy briefcase from her. ‘Hey, it’s a compliment,’ he said cheerfully as he walked on ahead. ‘Go with them – you never know when they’ll come to an end.’
She began to walk alongside him while he swung her briefcase as if it was an empty plastic bag. Stewart wasn’t a good looking man, she thought, not compared to Michael, but he had a certain ruggedness which, coupled with his gentle caring nature when attending to the patients, was a heady combination. The rest of her nurses on the ward had nicknamed him ‘the gentle giant’.
They walked through the main entrance into the hustle and bustle of the hospital as it got ready to open its doors to the general public. Porters were pushing tall breakfast trolleys towards the lifts. A few patients in dressing gowns were slowly stretching their legs and walking to the hospital shop and Stewart greeted them cheerfully.
He took a deep breath, held his nose in the air sniffing and grinned. ‘Hmm, what a lovely hospital smell. A mixture of disinfectant and oh, my, what is that – scrambled egg?’
They laughed together and got into the staff lift where Davina pushed the button for the second floor. She nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ve always loved the smell of a hospital since I first started on the wards in my training.’
He studied her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle under his scrutiny. He placed the case on the floor and when he moved his arm she could smell the leather from his old biker’s jacket. It was black and padded with studs on the back which had worn away with age.
‘Hmm, I can just imagine you in your white uniform,’ he said staring into her eyes.
She looked into his eyes, which were large and oval with incredibly long eyelashes, and returned his stare – their eyes locked. Her heart was thumping and the palms of her hands began to sweat. As the lift moved slowly upwards she parted her lips to speak but couldn’t. She wanted to reprimand him for being suggestive and cheeky but felt transfixed and didn’t want to be the first to look away.
Suddenly, the lift bleeped to tell them they’d reached the second floor and the doors slid open. Startled, he handed her the briefcase and hurried out ahead. ‘See you later,’ he called. She heard the uncertainty in his voice as if he too was shocked at what they’d both just experienced.
Chapter Two
Michael and Tony stood in the factory. The noise from the machinery and three production lines was too loud for Michael to hear what Tony was saying and he pulled him by the arm into the prep room at the side. This small room was filled with quiet tumble machines and trolleys full of ingredients to make stuffing that would be used in the turkey breasts.
‘Let’s do the stuffing trial first today,’ Michael suggested. ‘It’s too busy in there at the moment and I’ll try and find the new production manager later to ask for a slot when we can run the new recipe.’
Tony nodded. ‘Good idea. Have we got everything we need?’
‘Yeah, it’s all piled up in the hold area,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll bring it through while you get the tumbler ready.’
While Michael deposited the large quantities of butter, olive oil, cubed smoked pancetta, onion, garlic, fennel, sage and fresh breadcrumbs into the front of the tumbler Tony adjusted the settings on the side. ‘Shall we start with a two-minute gentle mix?’
Michael agreed and when the mix was finished and deposited into a large stainless steel tub he inhaled the aromas. ‘Yep, it smells good. When I saw the retailer had asked for the addition of fennel I wasn’t sure, but this could work really well…’
This was the part of the job that Michael loved. The chefs all made 1 kilo recipes in the kitchen but it was his responsibility to take the recipes and scale them up to 80, 90 or even 100 kilo quantities that would work in the production equipment.
‘Hello,’ a female voice called from the doorway and they both looked up to see a lady in the obligatory white coat and mop cap. She walked towards them and Michael looked down on her petite five-foot-one frame and soft hazel eyes.
‘Hi, I’m Stella, the temporary production manager. And you two must be our process technologists?’
She held out a small delicate hand and Michael took it in his. Towering above her at six-foot-two he had to bend down slightly to speak to her. They introduced themselves and explained the new recipe they were trialling and she suggested a more convenient time for them to stuff the turkeys in the production area when it would be quieter.
She smiled at Michael with a definite twinkle in her eye. ‘And would it be possible for me to come up to the development kitchen later when you cook the turkey and stuffing? I’d love to taste it,’ she said slowly, moistening her full lips.
Michael liked her immediately. She seemed easy to talk with and extremely friendly. ‘Yes, of course – we’d like that. It’s always good to get second opinions. Me and Tony are so used to making stuffing every year we get a little blasé…’
‘I can’t imagine you being laid back about anything,’ she teased looking him up and down. As Michael looked into her bright eyes he saw her pupils enlarge and her face flush.
Nah, he thought, she couldn’t be flirting with him, could she? Good God, women didn’t usually react like this around him and he quickly glanced over his shoulder to see if another man had entered the room. But all he saw was Tony grinning at him.
She made to move. ‘Great. I’ll look forward to it. Will you ring me on my mobile and let me know what time?’
He nodded dumbly and Tony bid her farewell as she went back into the production area.
Tony hooted with laughter at the look of astonishment on Michael’s face. ‘She fancies you…’
Michael tutted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he puffed, but pulled his shoulders back all the same.
They cleared up after the trial and wheeled the tub of stuffing into the chiller to use later in
the afternoon. Tony closed the door behind them and teased, ‘Ha! A knockback and come on all in the same morning. You’re really doing well today!’
‘It’s not funny…’ Michael snorted as they left the production area, but then couldn’t help laughing along with him.
***
Davina was still in a tizzy as she reached her small office at the end of the ward. It wasn’t an office as such she kept telling everyone, but more of a cleaner’s cupboard with a desk in the middle. In the summer it was stifling hot with no windows and in the winter it was perishing cold with no heating. She dropped her briefcase onto the desk and booted up her PC wondering what the hell had just happened to her. And indeed, to him, because she was certain he’d felt the same. Park it up, she thought, and get yourself ready for the meeting in ten minutes.
***
Two hours later, just after Davina had returned from the meeting, her junior sister, Lisa, put her head around the door.
‘Coffee?’ she asked smiling.
Davina sighed and plopped down into the chair. ‘I’d love one.’ It seemed lately that there were more and more meetings to go to on a daily basis and as another ward manager had just commented, their jobs had very little to do with patients any more.
She thought of Stewart imagining her in a white uniform and remembered her early days. She’d loved the job when training and then qualifying as a junior staff nurse. She’d worked hard and long hours and had excelled in ward management – her mentor at the time had said her organisational skills were second to none. She’d wanted to make a difference to the way her patients were cared for and had quickly risen up the ladder with one promotion after another. But now, she thought, there were times when she missed the hands-on part of the job and was becoming disillusioned as to how much difference she could actually make.
Lisa reappeared with two mugs of coffee and sat down on the only other chair in the room. ‘Tough one?’ Lisa asked.
Davina smiled at her friend. Lisa was thirty-six and divorced and was raising her three children alone. She was a damn good nurse and had been a close ally for the six years they’d worked together.
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