by RJ Hunter
"What! Ask that revolting old Spanish pervert!" Retorted Laura, angrily. "I think not!"
"Roberto's Colombian actually, and a bloody nice bloke if you take the time to get to know him."
"He's a dirty, old, malingering alcoholic, and I wouldn't be surprised if he were skulking around here somewhere, up to no good?"
"That's a bit harsh, Laura. But no, he's not here today. He's off sick."
"There, I rest my case. Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do."
"Well, I'm sorry I bothered you, I can see that you're very bitter. At least tell me when Tina is on next. Perhaps, she would be polite enough to accept a genuine apology." Said Nick, feeling slightly aggrieved.
The mention of Tina's name seemed to hit Laura like a thunderbolt, and Nick sensed he'd touched on a raw nerve.
"Laura, what is it, is there something wrong?"
She quickly tried to regain her composure, but her mind was flashing back to that wretched bathroom scene.
"Tina is ill. In fact, she's very ill." There was no more anger in Laura's voice, only emotion. As she struggled to complete her sentence, Nick felt a strong compulsion to reach out and comfort her.
"Tell me what happened?"
She turned away from him, putting her hands up to her face, trying to summon up the words.
"She attempted to kill herself at my home, and very nearly succeeded. She's been in hospital ever since. My brother, Jonathan has seen her and says she's still in danger. I'm hoping to go and see her myself soon."
"Was it because of me being married?" Gasped Nick, his face drawn.
Laura inhaled sharply and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
"No, Nick - it wasn't because of you. It was something else." She then opened the door and stepped back out onto the ward, feeling the pain of an unhealed wound being violently re-opened. She saw Betty rushing around, looking very anxious.
"Betty, is everything okay?"
"I can't seem to find Violet, I've looked everywhere."
It was Nick who saw her first, a tiny, frail old lady feeling her way along the corridor with a look of the utmost determination on her face. He called to her a couple of times, but there was no response. Not wanting to scare the elderly woman, he approached cautiously, allowing her to see and hear him as he came up beside her.
"Hello, Miss, can I help you?" He blurted out, not quite sure how to address her. "I think you may have got a little lost."
The old woman stopped and looked around slightly confused. It took her a few moments before she finally focussed on the tall, dark-haired young man standing beside her.
"Don't leave me George! Look, I'm still wearing it, the ring you gave me." Pleaded the woman anxiously.
For what seemed an eternity Nick stood in the corridor with the old lady, trying to convince her that he wasn't George. Eventually, he let her win and was able to take her hand and lead her back to the ward. They looked quite the couple, casually strolling in, with Violet smiling broadly, and her arm linked tightly through his.
Sister Wilcox saw the pair approaching and hurried from the office to meet them.
"Thank-you, young man, you've just saved my bacon!" She then turned to Laura, and added somewhat sourly; "If some of my nurses had been a little more observant, this would never have happened."
"Sister, please," interrupted Nick. "Look, I think it was my fault. I took Laura away from her duties to sign for some lockers I had delivered. Please don't blame her."
Sister Wilcox looked at both of them, with a knowing frown on her face.
"I'll be the judge of that, if you don't mind." She replied sharply. "However, that was a very commendable gesture, and one I hope you appreciate, Nurse Peddlescoombe. Now, let's put an end to the matter. Violet is back and seemingly no worse for wear after her little adventure." She then turned her attention back to Laura. "You can go off for your break now, nurse."
Without a second glance at Nick, Laura turned and headed towards the changing rooms to remove her white apron and collect her cape. She had never felt so low in her life, and now wished she's never taken up nursing in the first place.
She left the ward as quickly as possible and marched across the green towards the dining room. She brought a coffee and gazed around for an empty table. From the corner of her eye she noticed a couple of girls from her training group trying to catch her attention. When one of them actually called out her name, Laura felt that she couldn't just ignore the girl, but she surprised even herself by simply flashing a false smile, and then walking off to a table over in the far corner, to sit with her back to everyone.
Laura thought she might cry, purely out of frustration, but it was only her fierce pride that prevented her from doing so. She felt angry, not only with herself, but how she had been spoken to by Sister Wilcox. She wanted to scream and let the old bag know just how insulted she had been. The woman had no right to address her like that, in front of someone else, it was humiliating to say the least. If the sister hadn't of sneaked off herself for a cigarette, none of this would have happened in the first place.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds trying to quell her anger. She breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh, before opening her eyes again and deciding to confront the sister when she returns to the ward. It was then that she became aware of a figure standing over her.
"Laura, please don't be annoyed with me. I want to apologise. Can I sit down, just for a few minutes?"
She didn't reply, as she looked up at Nick's handsome, pleading face. He took her silence as a cue to be seated, and placed his coffee on the table opposite hers.
They both soon noticed how silent the dining room had become, as Laura's colleagues glanced over, eager to know why the young porter had joined their solitary friend at her table.
The silence seemed to beak the ice as both of them now looked straight at each other, aware they were the main focal point in the room.
It was Laura who spoke first, feeling that perhaps she had been too hard on him earlier on. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she began to realise that she had probably just chosen Nick to manifest all her pent-up anguish upon. Her mind was a whirlpool of mixed up thoughts and emotions, her father's death, her mother selling the house and planning to move back to Wales, now all this grief with Tina. It would take Laura a good while to process everything that had happened recently and finally come to terms with it all.
"Maybe it should be me who apologises, Nick. I've been very rude to you." She took a sip from her coffee, and softened her demeanour; "It was very good of you to try and take the blame back on the ward, but I can stick up for myself you know."
He smiled and sat back in his chair, gracefully acknowledging her last remark. There was another silence, and Laura, feeling uncomfortable, glanced at her fob watch.
"I'd better be getting back to the ward, or I'll have sister to contend with again."
He nodded, knowing full well that she still had plenty of time left, time enough to hear what he wanted to say to her.
"Laura, about the other night. I never meant for Tina to get hurt, you must realise there was a genuine misunderstanding about the date. Please, at least give me the chance to make amends. Perhaps, even over a quiet drink or a meal somewhere nice - you certainly look like you deserve one!"
"I'm sorry, Nick but the answer is no. Besides, it wouldn't be fair on Tina. She liked you."
He stared at her open-mouthed.
"Please tell me what happened, Laura. I remember her being blind drunk, and you both getting into a car with your brother. But earlier, you said Tina tried to kill herself. I don't understand. She must be very troubled."
Laura began to explain about the horrendous events of that night, but then noticed Sister Wilcox enter the dining room.
"I can't tell you anymore, I really need to go." With that, she left her coffee and began to get up.
He implored her to wait while he searched in his pockets for a pen and a piece of scrap paper. H
e then quickly scribbled his number down, while Laura waited nervously.
"Laura, call me - if you change your mind. I'll be waiting."
She hurriedly shoved the piece of paper into her pocket just as the sister arrived at the table, with a cup of tea in one hand, and a rather tasty-looking slice of chocolate gateaux in the other.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything?" She asked, somewhat sarcastically, sitting herself down on the other vacant chair opposite Laura.
"No, not at all, Sister." Blushed |Laura. "In fact, I was just on my way back to the ward."
"Nonsense," said the sister firmly. "Why, you've got plenty of time left. Besides, I want a word with you."
Nick decided that now was probably a good time to finish his locker deliveries, and drained his coffee in one. He said his goodbyes to the women, smiled at Laura and took his leave.
"What a charming young man," remarked Sister Wilcox, as her and Laura both watched Nick leave the dining room. "He's a student you know, and a very hard worker, so Mr. Watts was telling me. But I expect you know that?"
"Sorry, Sister, I don't quite know what you mean?" Replied the student nurse awkwardly, and feeling her anger returning.
But the sister just started laughing, her earlier foul temper gone as quickly as it had came.
"You can't fool me Laura, I've seen it all before, a hundred times over." She said, before taking a bite out of her chocolate cake. "But that's not what I want to talk about."
"Am I in trouble Sister?"
"No, my dear, of course you're not. I've already told you, you're one of the best nurses I've got, and I'll give you a damned good report when you go. But good nurses can only be good if they've got other good nurses working alongside them. It's all about teamwork, Laura and communication. You'll be wise to remember that."
"Thank-you, Sister, that means a lot to me. In fact it was the last thing I was expecting to hear - especially after losing a patient." Replied Laura, a little surprised and knowing full well that the wily older woman had successfully avoided a confrontation taking place.
"These things happen with confused patients. We're not a prison, and I expect you'll lose a few more before your career's over - I certainly have!"
"I hope not," smiled Laura, pleased to be back on talking terms with her mentor. "Thank-you again, Sister. I really needed a boost to my confidence."
"Let's just put it behind us, shall we? Now, having got that out of the way, I've been in touch with Violet's husband, George," Continued sister, changing the subject. "I've told him to come and visit her as soon as possible."
"You mean, he's not dead?" Exclaimed Laura, quite surprised.
"Good gracious no! He's a lovely old man, but for health reasons he can't get to visit very often. Apparently, after Violet began to deteriorate, poor old George just couldn't manage anymore, and that's where we came in."
"Perhaps, I could get Violet all dressed and ready for him when he arrives!" Replied Laura, eagerly.
"I think there's only one person who'll be getting dressed up around here, and that's you, Laura! So when are you going out with this young Nick, fellow, or have you been seeing him already?"
Laura nearly choked on her coffee. She still couldn't get used to Sister Wilcox's habit of firing direct questions, especially those of a personal nature.
"It's something that would take far too long to explain, sister. It's complicated."
"Well, we're both on duty until nine. I knew there was something bothering you." With that, she gently touched Laura's arm, before adding; "You know my door is always open if ever you want to talk."
"Thank-you, Sister, I'll bear that in mind. But I have to think things over first."
"Well, Laura, don't think about things for too long, especially where young Nick is concerned. I'd snap him up now if I were you."
It was nearly ten in the evening when Laura finally got back to her room at the nurses home. She kicked off her shoes and threw her cape over a chair, before collapsing onto the bed. It had worn her out, explaining to Sister Wilcox about Tina earlier in her office. When she had finished, the older woman sat quietly for a few moments before asking Laura if she could do anything to help. Laura declined the offer but deep down, she had been glad of the chance to tell someone else, someone outside of her own family circle. Now it was like a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she could draw strength enough to move on.
As Laura was undressing to take a shower, she realised there was one more thing she needed to do. Reaching into the pocket of her discarded nurse's uniform, she retrieved the scrap of paper containing Nick's number.
What she was about to do was in total contradiction to the person that had been so sharp in their manner towards the young, studious porter earlier that day. Even then, when her mind was greatly troubled, she did at least have the courage of her convictions, and was able to say no him. Now it was like the virtuous facets of her personality, which had taken the moral high ground, had now simply chosen to switch themselves off. There were no thoughts of Tina, when she poured herself a glass of chilled white wine. She took a couple of sips then clutching a handful of coins, she padded out along the corridor towards the payphones to call Nick, and say yes to his invitation to go out.
The next morning both Frank and Pauline were up early, and for very different reasons. Today was the day of Frank's visit to Albert, Pauline's grandfather. Of course, she was to know nothing of this, and besides, she had plans of her own, to go and visit an old friend, called Sally from her university days.
Usually Pauline would avoid Frank at all costs in the morning. Her presence only served to irritate him. But now, after many years of bruising encounters, she had finally learnt to use the art of plain common sense. Today, she had braved his wrath simply by intuition. It seemed that his mind had been somewhere else recently, and this distraction whatever it was had the effect of blunting Frank's usual displays of blatant savagery. Pauline had a vague idea it probably involved another woman, however, she choose to block the thought from her mind. This was something she had grown rather adept at over the years with Frank. It served no valid purpose to torture herself further, and besides, he always came back when he got bored with his extra-marital activities.
Ignoring his wife's attempts at making conversation, Frank poured himself a mug of coffee and lit a cigarette. He was surprised she was up so early, and watched her with contempt as she went about her business in a grubby dressing gown and worn slippers, busy clearing away the evidence from another of her frequent drinking binges.
Frank had recently begun to sleep in one of the spare rooms. It appalled him to have Pauline's body in such close proximity as his. He found her a depressing eyesore, an unworthy, sick embarrassment.
As he pulled deeply on his cigarette, he went over in his mind what he would say to Albert, and how it would need to sound convincing. After all, this was going to be a big one, and he wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. Getting money out of the old fool had never been particularly difficult, it was covering his tracks that was the problem. In the early days, when Frank used to send Pauline with the begging bowl, he had been amazed at her success rate. However, the sums involved had always been quite meagre, and before long he began to grow frustrated. It was then that he started visiting Albert himself, unbeknown to Pauline, of course.
Giving the old boy tales of impending business doom and a future of poverty and hardship for his wife and children, Frank soon began to reap the rewards of his labours. As Albert's health deteriorated further and his thoughts became confused, Frank would forge the old man's signature and simply write out cheques to himself. After a while however, the bank became suspicious of these transactions and Frank had to temporarily curtail his activities.
Now he was about to ask for a bridging loan, saying he and Pauline needed it until they sold their home, but in reality Frank had no plans to sell. It would probably mean Frank would have to take Albert to the bank personally to get the che
que approved. He would use guilt as a weapon, and tell Albert that the house he had chosen for his family would soon be snapped up without his help. It was a simple ruse, and Frank cursed himself for not trying it earlier to raise capital.
"You'll not get another penny out of me, you blood-sucking parasite!" Scowled Albert, reaching for his walking stick.
"What are you talking about Albert? It's for your family, your own flesh and blood - think of it as an investment. We'll give you interest." Replied Frank, somewhat surprised by the hostile response.
Although Frank's large frame was little more than a blur, the old man stared at him with eyes burning with hatred and fear.
"It was a black day in hell when she married you, Gant. Now be off with you, get out of my home and never darken my door again."
"You'll regret this you bloody old fool. Can't you see how this will hurt Pauline?"
"It's you who's hurting her, you bloody charlatan. All I regret is not seeing through you earlier. Now get out, or do I have to take my stick to you."
"You piss-ridden old swine," snarled Frank as he lunged at Albert, grabbing him by the collar and pulling the pensioner's scrawny body off the chair, until their faces almost touched. "I'll break that stick over your fucking head, you decrepit pile of shit!"
Frank pushed the old man violently back onto the chair, and went to the table, where he began picking up the photographs of Sally's house that he'd showed him.
However, with surprising speed and agility, Albert pushed himself back up from the seat and moved towards Frank, who was now standing with his back to him. Albert knew he would only get one chance, so with every ounce of strength left in his tired body, he raised the stick and brought it down hard.
Perhaps, it was his poor eyesight, or the dimness of the room that caused him to miss, but that's exactly what he did. He lost his footing and instead of hitting the back of Frank's head, the blow just caught the younger man's shoulder.
With frightening brutality, Frank turned, pulled back his fist and sent it crashing into the side of Albert's head. It connected with a bone-shattering thud and Albert was knocked several feet across the room.
