by Eva Woods
She ate the last bite of her bun, noticing lipstick smeared all over it. This was why she didn’t bother usually. “I better go. Duty calls.”
He checked his watch. “And me. I’m meant to be sawing someone’s skull open as we speak.”
And Annie had to...what did she have to do? Move some paper around, key in some numbers? It was embarrassing, how little her job mattered. She stood up. “Well, thank you again for helping Mum. And good luck with the brain stuff.”
“Thanks for the coffee.” He was still studying her. “It is the dress, I think. Nice.”
* * *
On the bus, Annie sat down beside a teenage girl with loud pulsing headphones. Normally she would sigh and tut, thinking horrible thoughts about the person. But today she didn’t mind so much. Her mum was all right, for now at least, and she had a nice dress on and she’d had coffee with a doctor. And it wasn’t even nine yet. She started to wonder about her daily routine. It had been the same for two years now. Up, into the moldy shower, eat a bowl of muesli, get dressed in some form of black. Out the door. Wait for the bus, jiggling and sighing in the cold if it was late. Squeeze on, usually without a seat. Get to work, key in the door code, feeling her heart sink, because however horrible the journey was, it was paradise compared to being in the office. Sit at her desk. Turn on computer. Answer emails. Lunch at one. Sit at desk, eat sandwich, stalk Mike and Jane on Facebook. What if she did something different today? What if she changed?
The girl took out her headphones and went to get past Annie. “Cool dress,” she said nonchalantly.
“Thank you!” Annie was still smiling long after the girl had got off.
* * *
When she reached her stop, her eye was caught by the bakery beside the bus stop, a shabby neighborhood one wafting out smells of icing sugar and melting chocolate. On impulse, she went in.
Ten minutes later, feeling self-conscious, she reached work. Someone else had to tap in the code for her, as she was carrying a large white box with buns in. “Thanks.”
“Got something nice in there?” The man nodded to the box. He worked upstairs, she thought. She sometimes saw him having a cigarette outside in the rain.
“Buns. Um, would you like one?” Her heart began to race. He would laugh at her, think she was daft.
“Seriously?”
“Sure. There’s loads.”
“Well, thank you!” He was smiling now, whereas she’d only ever seen him looking miserable and damp. “Cheers very much. Another day at the coalface, eh?”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes and smiled as he went to the lift, and she went past the receptionist, who was ogling the whole thing. “Bun?” Annie said.
“I’m on the 5.2.”
“Oh, well, another time, maybe.”
She opened the office door, seeing Jeff come out of the kitchen with a coffee in his usual stained mug, which had the logo of a software company on it. “Morning.”
“Oh. Hi, Annie.” His voice was flat. Did she always look as glum as everyone else in this building? “You’re...” He glanced at her dress and makeup. “Special occasion?”
“Oh, no. I brought some buns. Would you like one?”
Jeff blinked. “Oh, that’s—wow. Um. Do you have enough?”
“Sure.” Annie carried the buns to the central table where they sorted the post, feeling everyone’s eyes on her. It was unnerving. She knew most of them thought she was antisocial, and unfriendly, and too much of a stickler for expense rules. “Um, there’s some buns here, if anyone wants...” She trailed off, suddenly sure everyone would be on some kind of gluten-free diet.
But Jeff was selecting a custard slice. “Thanks, Annie. This’ll get me through that three-hour budget meeting.” Then Syed came over, and then Fee.
Annie went to her desk, switching the computer on. “Hi, Sharon.” May as well go all in on this “something different” idea.
Sharon had been watching the bun incident with narrowed eyes as the rest of the office fell on the box like carrion crows. “Not very healthy, is it? Sticky buns.” This from the woman who always ordered two portions of chips at lunch, one to eat and one to snack on throughout the afternoon. “Anyway, you’ve got work to do. That’s another fifteen minutes off your time sheet.”
Annie sighed and put aside thoughts of making the office a better place. Even if she did clean up the kitchen and bring snacks, she was fighting against the weight of apathy, which was heavier than bricks. Against the fact that not a single person in this building wanted to be there. Who would? Shut up in a lightless box, surrounded by people you didn’t like, doing work that didn’t matter, among dirt and debris from years of indifference.
She picked up her first invoice. Once, when she’d first started here, she’d almost enjoyed the work. The neatness of it, adding things up, pressing buttons to get people paid, producing clean sheets of numbers and facts. Having a paycheck, and being grown up. But somehow, coming to work had started to feel like death. Like she couldn’t breathe, like every bit of her skin was coated in dust and grime and other people’s misery. It was funny, but this office was actually more depressing than the hospital, where people came to get bad news. Maybe because in the hospital they really faced life down, instead of ignoring it, eyes glued to screens.
Around her, the sounds of the office blurred into one. Tapping keys, the drone of the copier, the buzz from Syed’s headphones, where he was listening to episodes of the QI podcast. And the thought came to Annie again. There has to be more than this. There has to be.
DAY 23
See old friends
“Good morning.” Annie’s mum was awake, sitting up in bed with her hands folded in front like the queen.
“Hi, Mum. How are you today?”
“Very well, thank you,” she pronounced in polite tones. “Who are you, dear?”
Annie’s heart sank again. She hadn’t even realized it had lifted. “I’m Annie.”
“Oh, that’s funny. I think my daughter’s called Annie, too. She might be along to visit sometime.”
Across the ward, Annie saw Dr. Quarani coming over, and she hastily wiped her hand across her eyes. “Mrs. Clarke,” he said, slotting a pen into the pocket of his starched white coat. Annie wondered if he had a wife at home, doing all his laundry. “How are we feeling today, ma’am?”
Annie liked the ma’am. So many of the nurses called her “Maureen” or “love” or even “Mary.” Her mother had always been a stickler for politeness. “I’m all right, thank you, Doctor.” She stage-whispered, “This lady has come to visit me.”
“That’s kind of her.” He took her mother’s pulse and made a note on a chart. “You’re doing well, Mrs. Clarke. Your vitals have stabilized and we’ve seen a big reduction in those moments of distress.”
“She still doesn’t know who I am,” Annie said, swallowing down tears.
“No. I’m sorry. We might not be able to do anything about that, as you know.”
“You’re handsome, aren’t you?” Annie’s mum said loudly. “Where is it you’re from, Doctor?”
“I’m Syrian, ma’am.”
“Goodness, that’s far away. Isn’t he a handsome chap—oh, what was your name again? Do you think he has a wife?”
Annie blushed. “Mum, we can’t talk to the doctors like that.”
“It’s fine.” Dr. Quarani smiled—and he was even more handsome then. “I’ll be back later to check on you. Bye, Ms. Hebden.”
As he turned to go, Annie heard the loud click of heels on the floor and knew it was Polly. She’d tried to keep her mother away from her new friend—she couldn’t bear for someone else to see how weak and confused her mum was, and didn’t really know how to explain the friendship. It felt too early, too fragile, to even be called that.
“Hiiii!” Pol
ly swept over. “Where’ve you been? I was looking for you. Had my old brain scanned again. I bet they’ve got more photos of it than anyone ever had of my face. Hello, I’m Polly.” She stuck her hand out to Dr. Quarani.
He shook it politely. “Dr. Fraser’s patient, yes?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me. Brain Tumor Girl.” She seized his wrist suddenly and Annie winced for her. “A Fitbit? Are you into sport?”
He pulled his hand back. “I’m training for the London Marathon. Dr. Fraser and myself are doing it.”
“You are? That’s amazing. I did it five years ago. If you want any training tips I can—”
“Excuse me, miss. I must get on. Bye, Mrs. Clarke.”
Polly watched him go. “I wish everyone wouldn’t think of me as Dr. Max’s patient. I mean, it’s my brain, not his. Who was that?”
“Mum’s doctor, Dr. Quarani.”
“He is by far the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen between the walls of this hospital.”
“Polleee,” Annie groaned. “Don’t. He’s a bit serious. Plus, he’s married, I think.”
Annie’s mum said loudly, “You know, nearly every doctor I’ve had in here is foreign. People say it’s a bad thing, but what I’d like to know is, who would be doing those jobs if they weren’t here? Thank goodness they came, is what I say!”
“Have to agree with you there, Mrs. Clarke,” said Polly. “We’d be literally dead without them, wouldn’t we?” Annie thought of Dr. Max, British, but also far from home. Why did he work down here, battling every day with an enemy you couldn’t see or touch? Polly was leaning over her mum, speaking clearly. “Hello, Mrs. Clarke, I’m a friend of Annie’s.”
Maureen was looking around the room again, with that unfocused confusion that stabbed at Annie’s heart. “Oh, Annie, my daughter? She should be here soon. She never visits, far too busy with that husband of hers, I imagine.”
She avoided Polly’s gaze; she didn’t want pity. “Mum, I think you’re a bit confused, aren’t you? I’m Annie.”
“Don’t be silly, Annie is my daughter. I know my own daughter, though she doesn’t visit. I wish she’d visit. I’d really like some grapes.” She said it plaintively, and Annie thought of the few times she had brought grapes, only to be told “she shouldn’t have wasted her money.”
She stroked her mum’s hand, noticing how the skin raised up and didn’t stretch back down. She was barely sixty. How did she get so old, so helpless? “Mum, shh now. It’s okay.”
Her mother’s face seemed to blank out, and she blinked and turned to Polly. Her voice was suddenly higher, girlish. “Miss, can you help me? I’m waiting for Andrew, you see.”
“Who’s Andrew?” Polly said, looking at Annie.
Her mum giggled, like a young girl. “Andrew’s my special friend. He’s going to propose to me, you know. I can just feel it. Sally, don’t you think he will?”
Sally was Annie. “’Course I do, Maureen,” she said heavily. “But don’t you think you should rest now?”
Polly was looking at her quizzically. Annie mouthed: Confused, and then to her mum: “I’m sure Annie will be here soon, Maureen. And I’m sure she’ll bring you lots and lots of grapes.” She stood up. She had to go. There was a limit to how much she could stand on a daily basis.
Polly followed her out to the corridor. “Annie...”
“Don’t.” Her voice shook. “I know you’ve got questions, but please. I can’t. Not now.”
“Andrew’s your dad?”
“Yes. She’s...sometimes she doesn’t remember he left her thirty-five years ago. She thinks they’re still together, in love.”
A long moment passed. Annie stared at the flecked lino beneath her shoes and willed herself not to cry. Eventually Polly said, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I was actually coming to find you. I’ve got something to show you.”
* * *
“Where are we going?”
“Med library. Did you know they had one here? You can get journal articles copied and so on. You see, there’s lots of new research going on all the time. Sometimes we don’t get the most up-to-date treatments in this country because of cost.” Polly knocked on the glass door of the small shuttered office.
It was answered by a pretty woman in a pink headscarf. “Oh, hi, Polly. I’ve got those photocopies you wanted.”
Annie hung back, heart hammering, fixing her eyes firmly on the ceiling. Was this a trick? Or maybe just coincidence? Maybe Polly didn’t even realize. But of course she did. “Thanks, Zarah. In return, I’ve brought you a little surprise. Look who it is!”
Zarah saw her, blinked. “Annie! Oh, my... What are you doing here?”
“My mum’s been sick. You...you work here?”
“Yes, I...got the job last year.” And Annie would have known that once, because Zarah had told her everything. But she hadn’t even seen her in almost two years. Since everything fell apart.
“You two should catch up,” Polly insisted, grinning like she was Cilla Black on Blind Date. “Annie’s here nearly every day, Zar. I’m surprised you haven’t run into each other.”
But even if they had, Annie would have fled the other way. “Er, how did you figure out we knew each other, Polly?” She was careful to keep her voice steady.
“We got chatting and Zar mentioned what school she was at. Small world, huh?”
“Not really, we went to school about a hundred meters from here.” Again with the light tone. Nothing wrong here. She forced her face into a smile.
Polly went on. “Anyway, it’s a sign, you both being here, so you have to meet up. You’ve got each other’s numbers, yes?”
“Mine’s the same.” Zarah’s voice was also cool, revealing nothing. Annie couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Er, mine, too.”
“Great, she’ll text you, then.” Polly was clutching Annie’s arm, implacable. “See you later, Zarah!”
Outside, Annie pulled herself away. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Push me into things. You could have just told me she worked here.”
“And you’d have gone and talked to her? Because things are fine between you?”
“I might have.”
“Seems to me that if things were fine, you’d already know that one of your best friends worked in this hospital.”
“She’s not—I mean, we used to be...”
“What happened?” Polly looked genuinely interested as she hopped onto the nearby reception counter, swinging her legs in their green patent Mary Janes.
“Ma’am, you’ll have to get off—oh, it’s you, P,” said the receptionist. Someone else Annie had never seen before. Polly really knew everyone.
She took a deep breath. “Look, I know you’re trying to help, but there’s a reason Zarah and I aren’t exactly friends anymore.”
“Which is?”
Annie opened her mouth. Shut it again. She still wasn’t ready. “Don’t keep pushing,” she burst out. “I already told you about my dad. I just—I’m not like you, okay? I can’t just...open up.”
“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But for God’s sake, Annie. You miss one hundred percent of chances you never take, you know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means—text your damn friend. Drink a cup of coffee with her. What’s the worst that could happen?”
DAY 24
Spend time with children
“Annie! It’s so nice to meet you.” She wasn’t even in the door of Polly’s parents’ house when she was enveloped in a hug from Milly, Polly’s friend. She had a chic dark bob streaked with purple, and sunglasses on her head, though it was nighttime. “Come in, come in, everyone’s here.” Annie trailed after, already wishing she�
��d stayed at home. Polly had finally organized a get-together with her friends, and had insisted Annie come “for support,” but she was starting to feel like she was the one who’d need it.
Annie paused in the door of the kitchen, her dream kitchen, holding her bottle of wine. It looked like a scene from a catalog. Stylish, beautiful people—Polly, George, their parents, Milly, Milly’s husband, Seb, who had trendy glasses and a cashmere jumper, and Polly’s other friend Suze (mane of blond hair, sky-blue manicure, skinny jeans). She couldn’t have felt more out of place if she’d tried. The red dress and boots felt too try-hard, and she knew she hadn’t done her eyeliner right. She wanted to bolt, but Polly jumped up and put an arm around her. “Everyone, this is Annie, my hospital friend.”
That made her think of puke and tears and linoleum. She waved weakly. “Hi.” She felt so awkward her shoulders were practically meeting in front of her chest. George gave her a friendly smile, but even that didn’t help. He was one of the beautiful cool people, relaxed and confident.
Valerie, Polly’s mum, was wearing some kind of stylish shift dress, with dark-rimmed glasses and recently blow-dried hair. “Hello, darling, nice to see you again.” Annie’s heart began to ache. Her mother was an old lady in comparison, though she was actually younger. Even when she’d been well she hadn’t dressed like Valerie, thinking new clothes a waste of money when she could make her own. It wasn’t fair. Why was it Annie’s mother who’d had such a tiny portion of life? And then lost even that? Who couldn’t even remember that her husband had left her a lifetime ago?
Valerie hustled Annie toward the table. “Now, why don’t you sit over here beside George. I can see you two have been getting on well.”
“Mum...” George was frowning.
“Remind me, Annie, you are single, aren’t you?”
There was an awkward silence. “Well, yes, but—”
“Mum.” George’s face was tight. “We’ve talked about this, okay? Just leave it.”