Major Surgery

by Lola Keeley

  Which is all a distraction from the test. As soon as she gets in range, Veronica looks up. Cassie braces herself for the brief half-smile, barely a glance, before Veronica gets back to a menu she probably has memorised. If that’s what she does, then this is absolutely two new friends having dinner.

  What Veronica actually does is enough to make Cassie’s knees almost buckle. Instead of a flicker of a look, it’s a moment of recognition, then a long, dragging glance that makes Cassie wonder for a second if she remembered to put clothes back on at all. It can’t last more than a second or two, but it’s an eternity where Cassie has to relearn her name and the process of how to walk. That she slides into the booth, nonchalant, is something of a miracle.

  “I got you some Dutch thing or other.” Veronica indicates the perfectly apparent beer. “Somehow English ones are always a little disappointing.”

  “I had you pegged for a red wine sort of girl,” Cassie says, raising her glass for them to clink together. “Shiraz?”

  “I dabble with it, but Merlot usually gets my loyalty points. We can still split a bottle if you like?”

  “Gives me a headache,” Cassie replies. “What’s good here? God, I feel like I ask you every little thing. Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

  “It just plays into my natural bossiness.” Veronica takes a long sip from her glass.

  Cassie crosses her ankles and tries not to dwell on that particular flash of an image.

  “And I’m told I’m not exactly subtle about when I’ve had my fill of someone,” Veronica finishes.

  “Is that why Travers scuttles away from you in the hallways?”

  “He has been known to try my patience. Problem is finding him half the time. I handed in my budget the other day and it took longer to get his signoff than to find him. Even then, it was like he wasn’t expecting them.”

  “Funny, because he came chasing me. Even offered to help me.”

  Cassie almost ends up wearing a mouthful of red wine at that comment. Startled, she waits for Veronica to explain.

  “Oh God, he actually did that?” Veronica looks genuinely shocked. “You must have some kind of supernatural power. Or you’re his type and he’s…oblivious.”

  “I don’t look that gay, do I?”

  “You know fine well how you look,” Veronica reassures.

  Cassie tries not to beam at what seems suspiciously like a compliment.

  A chipper waitress interrupts them, and it’s a much-needed respite.

  “But you know, that casual chic combined with the whole macho-army-medic thing…” Veronica continues.

  “Shall we order? I’ll have the burger, thanks.” Okay, that was definitely a compliment. Cassie doesn’t know quite what to do with herself. Better to just focus on her order. Can’t go wrong with a burger and chips. That will go down well with the second pint she orders with it.

  Veronica orders the fish something or other, and another large glass of Merlot. When they’re alone again, all talk of Travers is done. It turns rather serious, and Cassie feels the urge to run.

  “You are holding up okay? Not because I think you’re some delicate piece of china, you understand. Rather because that would be a lot for anyone, considering.”

  “Fine. One funeral is much like another, in the end. I laid some demons to rest last week. Today just felt like… What’s that awful American term for it? Closure.”

  “I think we use it here now, you know. My good friend Edie is just mad about it.”

  “She’s one hell of a shrink. I told my army bods to use her work, if they can.” Cassie takes a drink of her beer, trying to formulate the words. “I like to think I can fix any kind of physical trauma, or have a bloody good go at it. Most of the time, I don’t see the guys I patch up until months after. They’ve usually accepted it by then. The discharge, the prosthesis. That they’ll never see their kids’ faces clearly again. Time’s the great healer. But so much of what she said at her talk made me realise how much work that has to take.”

  “She is rather brilliant,” Veronica says. “But you can never tell her that. Edie’s quite out of control as it is. I’d set you two up on a friend date, but I don’t think the universe would thank me.”

  “I think you might be more than I can handle as it is.” Cassie wants to bite it back the second she says it, but Veronica just smirks.

  “You’re probably right.”

  Chapter 15

  Hangovers aren’t getting any easier with age. Turning forty had been a particular milestone in that regard, not that Veronica had let it throw her off stride in the red-wine-consumption department. She’d just had to get more responsible about water and aspirin before bed. The worst part is how she always wakes up earlier, as though she doesn’t start her days early enough as it is.

  Wide awake just after five, she runs through the rest of the evening on her way to the shower. Only the guest room door being firmly closed reminds her that she has company. That puts a certain spring in her step, and she’s downstairs in her dressing gown, hair still damp, half an hour later. Cassie seems the early-rising kind, and it seems important she have the offer of coffee and a proper breakfast.

  Sure enough, she appears in the doorway with a sheepish expression before the coffee pot is half filled. The Batman dressing gown, with its gaudy yellow belt, is quite a look on her. Veronica is careful not to linger where the hem only hits mid-thigh.

  “I see Daniel has been storing his things all over the house again?”

  “No, I brought this with me,” Cassie jokes. “I’m nuts about, uh, I want to say Spiderman?”

  “No, his stuff has the webs all over, I’m reliably informed.” Danny was a bit easier in the comic-book phase. “The bat should be something of a clue.”

  “Right.” Cassie frowns at the black material. “Turns out I’m not as funny as I think I am before breakfast. But thank you for letting me stay.”

  Veronica opens the fridge to retrieve some milk and yoghurt. The fruit is already chopped into some bowls, and there’s a plastic container of muesli out on the counter.

  “It was the least I could do, after talking you into those extra drinks. I was glad of the company, honestly.”

  “And the hospital didn’t burn down in our absence? Mine was planned, but you just took off.”

  “Alas, our colleagues are too competent to let it get too out of hand. Might be trickier from next week, once Peter leaves,” Veronica says. “Help yourself. I can cook, if you fancy some eggs or something?”

  “Now you’re just spoiling me.” Cassie sits on one of the high stools in her dressing gown and T-shirt. “Honestly, I mostly grab a protein bar and a coffee, so this is already miles better.”

  Veronica hesitates before taking her seat. Unlike Cassie’s towelling number, her own robe is silk and makes her slip right off these stools. It would be more modest to stay standing, but she pulls the fabric out of the way and takes a seat as gracefully as she knows how. Her legs get an appreciative glance that makes it all seem worth it at least.

  “Did you really tell me last night that Travers is taking a personal interest in your budget?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “It’s just so unlike him. I think I actually dreamt about it.” The coffeemaker beeps to signal a full pot, and Veronica decants it into two large mugs and slides one over to her guest. Her legs apparently merit a second lingering look. Good. “There’s always gossip he’s a little…something.”

  “Something?” Cassie parrots back at her.

  “Not shady, that’s too strong. But a couple of years back we were over budget on some Estates project. Then all of a sudden it was fine. I suppose that’s good management on his part, but at the same time, he doesn’t really seem the type?”

  “Are you saying I should watch my back with him?”

  “I’m saying, if you don’t mind,
I might do a little digging today. Find out why he’s taken such an interest in Trauma. One benefit of working in the same hospital since I started training is that I do know almost everyone.”

  “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Cassie says, blowing off the concern again. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. Staying here last night has made me all the more determined to get my finger out and find a place of my own. No more train commutes from hell.”

  “Oh, house hunting?” Veronica perks up at the thought. “Strangely, one of my favourite things. At least for other people, when I don’t have to do all the paperwork and hand over a ton of money at the end.”

  “I haven’t really started looking.”

  “I’m still friends with the estate agent who found me this place; I can give her your email?”

  “There you go again, saving the day.” Cassie hides a smile with her coffee, not very effectively. “But that would be a big help, thanks.”

  “If you’re itching to go for a run, I think I have some tragically unused gym things upstairs.”

  “You do?” There’s a hint of teasing in the question. “Well, if the shoes fit, that takes care of me getting to work.”

  “I miss that,” Veronica says. “The whole double-your-wardrobe thing of living with another woman. I don’t suppose you really needed double the fatigues, did you?”

  “Not really.”

  They’re both done with breakfast, so Veronica shifts everything to the sink ready for the cleaner later. “Well, follow me, Major. Let’s see if we can get you kitted out.”

  Veronica doesn’t really think the whole “let me take you to my bedroom” thing through, not until Cassie is holding back in the doorway like they’ve just opened up some Egyptian tomb. Her gaze goes everywhere, though, to the unmade bed and the pile of clothes draped over a chair. Not dirty enough to need laundry but worn once so not clean enough to hang in the wardrobe again.

  “Won’t be a second,” Veronica says, stepping into the small dressing room off the master bedroom, the one perfectly organised part of her house. The spice rack might be missing some key jars, and the less said about the mess of cables and fittings in the garage the better, but in this small room of rails and drawers, there is order to combat any chaos.

  There’s her actual exercise gear, of course. Not a large section, but weekly Pilates and a couple of sessions on the treadmill keep Veronica fit enough for long surgeries. She has no interest beyond that. It takes checking a few different drawers before she remembers the things she’s thinking of will still be in a bag. Danny’s favourite shops to drag her to are the ones full of overpriced sneakers and logo-heavy T-shirts. It’s indulgent, but it’s one of the few things they can still do together without bickering, and so Veronica agrees almost every time he suggests it.

  That bag from the last trip to the hell on Earth known as the Nike store on Oxford Circus is what she needs. A couple of running vests, some capri leggings, even a new sports bra. She turns around only to see Cassie slipping into the relatively confined space along with her.

  “Oh! Sorry! I wondered where you’d gone,” Cassie says. “I have a bad habit of missing the bit where people say ‘Come with me’ so I wondered if I had.”

  She’s very close. Veronica holds the reusable shopping bag out like a shield in front of her. “Now, I’m a seven in shoes. I hope that’s close enough?”

  “Perfect,” Cassie replies. “Should I…”

  “Just behind you.” Veronica gestures to the wall of shelves that holds her slightly obsessive shoe collection. The newish Air Max pair are on the bottom row. “Grab those and I’ll see if I have those barely visible socks somewhere.”

  Cassie picks up the shoes and accepts the bag. Veronica feels herself pulled into an unexpected hug. “Thank you,” Cassie whispers. “For everything.”

  Patting her on the back, Veronica lets the warmth spread through her. She hadn’t realised until right now how out of the habit she’s gotten. It had been a slow decline between her and Angela, easy affection the first casualty in their dissolution. Daniel is in that awkward teenage-boy phase where any attempted contact makes him contort like a gymnast just to get away from it. “It’s nothing, really. But yes, you’re very welcome.”

  “I should go change, let you have your morning back.”

  “You’re welcome to crash anytime,” Veronica says as they part. “Well, as long as you’re stuck out in Swindon. Mi casa, su casa, as the Spanish would have it. Now get going. Some of us need more than five minutes to look effortlessly put together all day.”

  “See you at work, then.” With that, Cassie is gone.

  Veronica finds herself almost sad about the loss of her presence. Maybe Edie has been right all this time. Perhaps Veronica is just a little bit lonely.

  Still, there’s a busy day ahead. No time to worry about how Cassie’s going to look in that very fitted running gear.

  A burst appendix right after she gets into work ends up taking more of Veronica’s morning than she expected, but once she’s out of surgery it doesn’t take too long to get on the trail of Travers.

  She corners him on his way out to some lecture at their university campus that’s also part of the Trust. He looks less than thrilled to see her.

  “Yes, Ms Mallick, I did get your budget for next year.” He holds his hands up to ward her off. “I’m sure I replied to that message.”

  “No, Wesley, it’s not that. Not exactly. I just had an idea for something a bit different, and I wondered if I redo the whole thing, could you advise me on a point or two? Just how to get some big items approved, that sort of thing.” Throwing in a little charm can’t hurt. “And it’s Veronica to you, you know that.”

  “Well, Veronica, as flattered as I am…you know I’m not the details man. I’m Mr Big Picture, the original blue-sky thinker. I’d be happy to check it over when it’s done, but ins and outs are really decided more at your level, if you see what I mean.”

  “You’re right. Let’s just leave it be til next year, hmm?”

  “Probably best.”

  It’s far from definitive, but a very different picture to what Cassie mentioned. In fact, Veronica has only ever known Wesley Taylor to insert himself in the business of department heads when he wants something. Usually to get funds siphoned off to support another troubled part of the organisation. Where other people would doze off at the whiff of financial impropriety, a little bit of Veronica comes alive. Sniffing out something potentially scandalous and nipping it in the bud will do wonders for her future as CEO of the Trust.

  By the time lunch rolls around, she’s booked in for a cholecystectomy and they’ve discharged or relocated at least a third of their occupied beds in the Acute Medical Unit. The prospect of whipping out a gallbladder has brightened the afternoon considerably; she’s just going to polish off a salad at her desk in preparation.

  Two minutes into the thirty minutes she has to herself, of course there’s a knock at the closed door. She can’t help smiling when it opens to show Cassie.

  “I got these cleaned at the one-hour place down the street. Thanks a million.” She holds up a clear dry-cleaning bag with the running gear. “And the shoes are in this.” After handing over the regular plastic bag, Cassie hangs the clothes on the back of the door next to some clean dresses.

  Veronica opens the bag out of habit, though she knows her running shoes will be in there. She smiles at a rather nice bottle of merlot stashed between them.

  “That wasn’t necessary.”

  “Tough.”

  “Oh, since you’re here, I spoke to Travers about my budget. He couldn’t get off the topic quick enough. I’d say he is up to something, or you’ve really caught his eye. If we prod at him a little, he’ll probably give himself away. Always thought he was a bit of a…you know…” Veronica taps the side of her nose with a fingertip and makes a sniffing
noise. Drug problems amongst doctors are, sadly, not rare. It’s usually the high-pressure ones who succumb mostly easily—the A&E consultants and one of Cassie’s predecessors in Trauma.

  “The thing is,” Cassie replies, shoving her hands in her scrubs pockets and looking at the ground, “I think I maybe don’t want to rock the boat?”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s just, I’m still technically on probation. Every new start is on a shaky peg for a few months. It would be a shame to piss off the big boss and have to begin my fresh start all over again.”

  “But Cassie, surely—”

  “Really, let’s just leave it for now. I’m starting to really like a lot of things about St Sophia’s and I don’t want to be kicked out for making accusations.”

  Veronica wants to argue the point, but it’s clear that Cassie’s mind is made up. Still, if Travers is cooking the books somewhere, he’ll show his hand eventually. There’s no reason Veronica can’t keep snooping on her own time, either.

  “Fine,” she agrees, holding her hands up. “Thank you, for the wine. I’ll save it for after my choley.”

  Cassie lights up at that. “You’re doing more surgery lately. It looks good on you.”

  “Yes, well, someone reminded me that surgery is why I do all this in the first place. It’s what I like about St Sophia’s, you could say. My reason to stick around. Yours too, I suppose.”

  “Hmm? Oh yes.” Cassie opens the door to leave. “That and the people. That really makes a difference.” Then she’s off, with just a glance back over her shoulder.

  Interesting, Veronica thinks, picking up her fork and stabbing a thin slice of radish. Which people could Cassie possibly mean?