by Lola Keeley
“Daniel, we’re waiting for your mum in my office. Are you sure you’re not hurt? You said you weren’t on the walk over, but you won’t be in trouble for that. I’d rather know.”
“I brought Nigel in. We tried to sort it ourselves, but the bleeding kept coming back, Mum. I’m really sorry. I didn’t—”
“Let’s take it in here, shall we?” Veronica nods in gratitude at her waiting staff, who go back to chattering amongst themselves. “Now, Nigel is your friend from…?”
“He came to the Arsenal game with us that time? At the Emirates?”
“Gotcha. What were you two up to that you couldn’t come to the hospital? If you were drinking, or God help me Danny, if you were on something—”
“Mum!” He holds his hands up, those big eyes radiating hurt at her. “Come on, I know you’re not around all the time now, but that’s taking the piss.”
“Taking the—”
“He hasn’t got papers, has he? Nigel can go in the school system ’cause they don’t ask for everything, but if he goes on an NHS computer, his mum and him get deported.”
“No, that’s not true, Danny. And even if it were true, why the hell are you coming to a woman you’ve met once instead of your own mother? Did you think I’d see him sent back to…?”
“Sudan.”
“To Sudan, just because of ticking some boxes?” Veronica’s stomach flips. Is that really what he thinks of her? That her morality would take a backseat to stickling for the rules? This is what comes of never getting to be the fun mum, of always being the brush your teeth and eat the broccoli enforcer. “Danny, if you’d just explained it like you are now… You must promise you always will, in future. I’d never see anyone in trouble because they needed a doctor.”
“Yeah, I mean. I guess.”
“Danny. Is he okay? Do I need to go and check with Ms Taylor?”
“She said he’ll be fine. Can I go?”
“No. No, I don’t think so. We’re going to have some words about sharing information between colleagues. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, we had stuff. You got anything to drink?”
“There’s bottled water—”
“Mum…”
“Fine, I’ll be back in five minutes with one can of fizz. Don’t step out of this room unless there’s a fire alarm, hear me?”
“Yeah, Mum. Sorry.”
“I think you were trying to do something good.” She pulls him into one more hug, less bone-crushing this time, and smooths his short hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Next time you do it with a call first, at least.”
He nods against her, and for a minute all that teen attitude evaporates. It must have terrified him, a friend bleeding out. How Cassie is treating the kid in a side room is beyond Veronica at the moment, but she’s about to find out.
If there’s a record for the time to cross that short distance, Veronica smashes it like Usain Bolt in Jimmy Choos. Cassie is running a portable ultrasound over the young man’s abdomen when Veronica comes bursting into the exam room.
The torrent she wants to unleash is like a fizzy sweet on her tongue, but Veronica summons the last of her willpower.
“Nigel, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Veronica asks.
“Better, miss.”
“No, no, we’ve suffered an Arsenal home game together. It’s Veronica to you. Please tell me your mum knows where you are?”
“Nah, we don’t see each other until after school now. I’ve got a few hours.” He winces as Cassie prods the fresh stitches, studiously not looking at Veronica. “Thank you for not grassing me up. Both of you.”
“If you’re ever hurt, you come here and get treated right away. Your mum too, Nigel. We won’t report anything to anyone, but you might need something we can’t do in a back room. Now, do I need to be worried about you and Danny being stabbed again anytime soon?”
“It really was an accident, miss. Miss Veronica. I’m okay now.”
“Yes, but we don’t want another night like last night. Danny has to at least call us, even if he doesn’t come home.” Her hands are shaking as she steps up next to the exam bed, elbow brushing Cassie’s and making them jolt further apart on contact. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
She takes his hand and squeezes it. “I’m going to steal your doctor for a minute. You’ll be okay on your own?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Cassie stiffens at Veronica’s hand on her elbow, guiding her towards the door. She has the presence of mind to strip off her gloves and dunk them in the waste bin on the way out, at least.
“Veronica, listen—”
“Not. Here.”
Veronica drags them down the hall to the first empty space she can think of: the surplus linens cupboard. There’s more floor space than average, since it’s only for the rare time they stay in storage long enough to build up an overflow.
Cassie retreats to the corner, backing up against the shelves like Veronica may take a swing at her. It’s almost tempting, if Veronica had the first idea how to throw a punch. She is not going to let Cassie play the victim now, not when she’s squarely in the wrong.
“First of all, you are one hundred percent, completely in the wrong, Ms Taylor. Whatever excuses you’re about to offer will not change that fact. I know the nurses told you, like they told everyone else in the building.” Veronica feels the head of steam building up after hours and hours of holding it all back, and fuck it feels good. “We may disagree on patient care, on the best training methods, or what constitutes an acceptable midday snack.”
“Veronica—”
She holds up a hand, the swipe of it to cut Cassie off is a little too vicious, but no matter.
“You don’t get an opinion on the safety of my son. On what secrets to keep. How long did you have them stashed away in there, hmm? It’s bad enough you can’t respect me as a colleague, but I thought we were friends! Or getting to be. Worse than that, however you feel about me, Angela certainly deserved to know as soon as we had any confirmation that Danny was okay.”
“You’re right, and—”
“Will you stop interrupting me?” Veronica advances on Cassie then, just two steps, but enough to make her tense for a fight. “If my son or anyone else connected to me shows up at this hospital again, I’ll thank you to keep out of it, or at least send them straight to me. Are we clear?”
For a moment it looks like Cassie is going to give her what for, and Veronica actually relishes the thought. The only thing more cathartic than yelling it all out is getting shouted back at in return. She wants someone to just say it for a change, instead of hiding behind passive-aggressive politeness. To tell her that if something happened to Danny it would have been at least partly Veronica’s fault. Her absence, her lack of attention, her blithe assumptions that Angela would handle whatever cropped up.
This could have turned out so much worse, and she’d be living with that for the rest of her life. Veronica sees exactly two ways of dealing with that realisation: either she turns it on herself and spends the rest of the day self-flagellating, or she lets it all out on the convenient person in front of her.
“Crystal,” Cassie says eventually, through gritted teeth. “Now, if I can get back to my actual patient?”
She pushes past Veronica, a little rougher than is strictly necessary. In the doorway the urge to bite back must overcome her.
“Because Daniel wasn’t my patient. Once I’d dealt with the boy who was, I was going to march them straight over to you, if you’d bothered to stop for a minute and find that out. But no matter how worried you were, my first and only obligation was to the bleeding person in front of me. Maybe you expect everyone else to put your commands first, but that won’t wash with me.”
“Oh, so this is my fault now?” Veronica hates how her voice rises on the question, positi
vely shrill. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Ms Taylor.”
“I’ve also got things to do.”
It would be so easy to reach out, to catch her wrist and walk it all back with an apology. But frankly Veronica isn’t sure that’s wise, given the strange spark between them. She’s done more than enough for this woman already, and they can be professional, distant colleagues, just nodding acquaintances roaming the halls.
Better. Safer. Infinitely wise.
Because there’s another unfortunate truth hurtling towards her right now. Not about Daniel, or professionalism, or the correct way to treat non-lethal sharp trauma to the abdomen.
No, this truth is that when her cheeks are flushed pink with anger, and her blonde bob is mussed from rushing around, not to mention the sparkle in those grey-blue eyes at the hint of a fight, then Cassie Taylor might be the most gorgeous woman Veronica has seen in a long time.
Which is much, much more than she’s capable of dealing with right now. And so she lets Cassie storm off, before doing much the same after a minute’s delay.
By the time Veronica makes it back to her office, at a less breakneck speed, Angela is sprinting down the corridor to meet her.
“He’s really okay? You checked?”
“I promise.” Veronica absorbs the slightly frantic cuddle she receives the way she imagines Danny just handled the one from her. Once, drunk on wine and younger love, Veronica had called Angela an ‘Amazonian goddess’. ‘Nubian’, Angela had corrected, but she feels surprisingly frail and mortal right now. “He’s fine, Ange. Not a mark on him. His friend got hurt; he was trying to do good. We’ll have to talk about how we handle it, but not just yet.”
Angela pulls back eventually, wiping at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. For giving you shit about work, for—”
“Not necessary.” Veronica waves it off. “Heat of the moment and all that. Come on, you won’t feel all the way better til you see him for yourself.”
“We’ll talk to him tonight, once we decide,” Angela says, taking Veronica by the arm. For a moment it’s as if they never broke up and nothing ever got too complicated. “Come around; I’ll do dinner. You always were good in a crisis.”
A flash of blonde hair on a passing orderly gives Veronica a guilty pang as they approach her office door. As her anger gives way to relief, she realises how hard she was on Cassie, how unfair. That is going to take some fixing, if it can be repaired at all. Pauline comes scurrying to greet Angela, repeating Veronica’s reassurances that Danny is fine.
Distracted, Veronica considers if she really can let Cassie off the hook as easily as Angela just did for her. Wasn’t Cassie just being a good doctor?
She’ll worry about that later. Now there’s Danny to rescue from Angela’s tear-soaked hugs, and tea to drink, presumably, while they all get back to normal for a while.
Cassie Taylor can be next week’s problem.
Chapter 20
Smoothing down her leather jacket, Cassie glances at the rest of her outfit. She refuses to dress formally on a weekend, even if she has popped into work to collect her contract and payslips for all things mortgage related. It will probably take months to find a place, especially now she won’t have Veronica’s guidance, but there are another couple of viewings booked all the same. Finding something comfortable that still says “responsible adult with a real job” is the balancing act. Her jeans are clean, and instead of the usual gym T-shirt she’d favour, a crisply ironed white shirt is the best she can do.
There’s a knock at her office door, and she calls a distracted ‘come in’ without bothering to look round.
“I heard you were in on your day off,” Alan says, and he’s a pleasant surprise. “I also heard that AMU and Trauma are at war. Two households, each alike in dignity…”
“That decision has nothing to do with me,” Cassie replies, aware of how tense she sounds as she says it. “All I did was treat a patient. If Veronica Mallick still isn’t speaking to me a week later, I’d say that’s very much her problem.”
“Well, so long as you’re totally chill about it.” Alan is teasing, but he takes a seat in her one visitor’s chair. He’s in civvies, too.
“Just off nightshift?” she asks.
“Yeah, the NHS doesn’t believe in social lives. The clubs will have to survive without me two weekends a month.”
“That’s a perk of being the boss, I suppose,” Cassie says. “Not having to work weekends for the first time in years. I do, however, have to go and look at a bunch of overpriced and generic houses. Lucky me?”
They’re interrupted by another knock at the door. Before Cassie can invite them in, the door swings open and Alan sits up straighter in his chair.
“Ms Taylor, I wondered if I could have a word?” Veronica, in all her dressed-down glory. Which of course means she still looks smarter than Cassie did the day of her interview, but the soft cardigan and black jeans are both items Cassie automatically wishes she knew where to buy.
“Are you here to apologise?” Cassie is not giving an inch, not after a week of whispers and now outright gossip if Alan has heard all about it.
“You know, I can just go,” Alan says, getting out of the chair and edging quickly towards the door. “You ladies have fun now, and remember St Sophia’s has CCTV if you were planning on fighting it out.”
With that, he disappears out into the corridor.
For a moment it looks like Veronica really is going to stand her ground. Arms folded, she purses her lips as though the apology is a physical, unpleasant taste on her tongue.
“Fine. I’m sorry that I may have overreacted. I appreciate you were trying to look after Nigel. Oh hell, I don’t have a rational explanation. Just an excuse. I hadn’t slept, I was worried sick, and I acted like a complete cow.”
“You do realise that my next stop was absolutely bringing Daniel right to you? For the sake of ten minutes. How is he?” Cassie isn’t letting her off that easily, but it would be nice to know if the boy is all right.
“He’s grounded is how he is. I really did mean to come and talk to you about this sooner, but it’s been one of those weeks.” It really has, on all fronts. None of it helped by two bodies of staff loyal to bosses they know are at odds. Cassie forces herself to swallow the instinctive anger that bubbles up in her throat, no doubt accompanied by cruel words. She focuses instead on the fact that Veronica looks less polished for once. Her make-up is lighter, not quite hiding the dark circles under her eyes. It’s possible to Cassie’s untrained eye that those heels don’t technically go with the dress, either. A sure sign that all is not well.
Cassie gestures towards the visitor’s seat that Alan has vacated. Veronica’s glance at her to make doubly sure sells her contrition. Suddenly exhausted by the tension of it all, Cassie sees the way forward. “Then I accept your apology. What are you doing in on a Saturday? I thought I was the only sad case?”
“Well, I had to collect some things,” Veronica says. “And I wondered if you were still looking for a house-viewing buddy? Thought it might be a chance to get back on track, friendship-wise. I know you hate it, but I really can be useful at that whole thing.”
It would be easy to deny her, on principle alone. Part of Cassie still wants to, wants Veronica to understand the chest-tightening feeling when a friend turns on her. She can’t understand how rarely Cassie gets close to other people, how much more sensitive she is to losing them for no good reason. The week has been endless, assuming that Veronica would never speak kindly again.
Then Cassie finds herself reaching into the pocket of her jacket and unfolding the papers she printed yesterday. “I have two different flat viewings late morning. They’re not a million miles from your neighbourhood, if you fancy it.”
“Private viewings or those godawful open house things? There’s nothing more irritating than trying to quietly fawn over somewhere you’re not even
sure you like, just to try and stop a bunch of strangers from snapping it up first.”
Cassie snorts. “You’re really making me want to go.”
“I did say… Well, you’ve made your plans while I was being a heinous bitch about everything.” Embarrassment. That’s the emotion Cassie’s been seeing flicker across Veronica’s features for this whole conversation, so out of place that she almost didn’t recognise it. Right, that’s officially enough of that.
“I think that’s a bit strong on the self-flagellating. At worst, you were a mother overreacting. We’ve all been on the receiving end of that.”
“The longer I left it, the worse I felt about it. I should have apologised right away. Let’s see what you’re going to look at.”
“You don’t have to come if it’s just out of obligation,” Cassie says, but she’s suddenly hoping that Veronica will insist.
“Oh no, I told you. I actively enjoy this sort of thing. Based on your expression, it’s not something you’re looking forward to. Unless you’ve gone off me altogether, that is. As a friend.” Veronica’s voice is just a little higher, as though her throat is tight. As though she’s almost afraid to suggest the idea.
There it is. The reset button Cassie should be looking for. Just friends, who don’t lean or get too close, or have huge arguments in their place of work. Friends who do favours, who loan some running gear or bring a nice bottle of wine. Friends, a commodity Cassie is short of these days. The trouble with leaving the army in your early forties, while almost everyone you’re friends with stays in, is learning how to start over. Cassie has never been the most popular kid in the playground, and without the common bonds of work, she’d have no idea where to even start.
“I think we should at least give it a try. Friends, I mean. And a friend who helps me find a home would be a valuable one right now.”
“That’s probably more than I deserve, but I’ll take it,” Veronica says. “So which one are we seeing first?”