Girl Descending
By Jenny O’Brien
Copyright © 2015 by Jenny O’Brien
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All Rights reserved
Also by Jenny O’Brien
Ideal Girl
Unhappy Ever After Girl
Boy Brainy
Dedicated to my mum, Ann – The best looking woman in Dublin.
Acknowledgements
Firstly thanks go to Robert Hudson from Crumlin Fuel Depot, (Coal Merchant Dublin) for all the great help when I was researching locations by Crumlin canal.
For Kinsale the thanks must go to Angela Shanahan and all at Kinsale Chamber of Tourism and Business. When I decided to use Kinsale I’d forgotten just how long it had been since I’d stayed there so without your help I wouldn’t have been able to include nearly half as much local flavour and colour.
I only use places in my books that I know. I will always remember my visits to Sandycove as a child. Thanks to Liam Madden, from Elm books for his help in locations for Ruari’s house.
I have been to the Shelbourne Hotel, but only once – and it was a very brief visit! I’d like to thank Lynsey Burgess, Sales and Marketing Executive from the Shelbourne for answering all my silly questions – I hope I have done your wonderful hotel justice.
For medical help I’d like to thank both Adriana and Dr John Kennedy from The Sims Institute, Clonskeagh, Dublin 14.
I like to use local businesses too so the following thanks go to:
Mary Flanagan Hunt for allowing me to use Lobster Cottage, World’s End, Kinsale – Yes, it does exist and is available for holiday letting.
Sean and Joan from Vibes and Scribes of Cork as well as Mary Foley from Bulman’s Bar.
For a while I used to live down the road from Johnnie Fox’s although I was too young at the time to do it justice. Thanks for helping me out with my research into your bar/restaurant.
Finally thanks to my family as always for their continued support and love. Finding time to do all the things I both want to as well as have to is often challenging.
Now I hope I haven’t left anyone out but if I have - blame my age.
PS, Simon Lloyd, please be assured you are as far from ‘Simon’ as could be – I never gave him a surname for that very reason.
‘She thought she’d left hurt behind.’
Jenny O’Brien 2015
Chapter One
She’d always remember the quiet - the sort of quiet that only comes with loneliness.
Slamming the door on her locker before dragging scrubs over disappearing hips she smiled at the sharp click of metal on metal; the grating sound sweeter than any lullaby or overture. Pulling the door of the changing room open she relished at the creak just as she relished the swish of a passing trolley rattling past.
It wasn’t just her gran’s company she missed. It was the small almost silent noises that were all part and parcel of sharing a house, of sharing a life. The tread on the staircase, a footfall in the hall, the flick of the kettle switch - all of these things she missed. All of these things conspired to make her leave.
Oh there were other reasons, other reasons she wasn’t going to give head room to. But the main reason was the intense quiet that kept her awake at night waiting for sounds – sounds that would never come.
So here she was in Dublin to escape the silence, to get a life.
She needed to get a life. No, she paused mid-step before continuing on her way to the nurses station. She had a life, just one she didn’t want anymore.
She also needed a job. She needed a job, but not for the money. Her gran had made sure the cottage was hers and there was loads of money in the bank to make sure she didn’t have to work for months if not years to come. She needed the stability of work. She needed something to get out of bed for in the mornings and something to send her to bed at night. She wasn’t sleeping, but if she worked hard enough that too would come.
This new job was a way, her way of carving out an existence from the dregs of her previous one. She’d make new friends; she’d forge ahead with her career. She wouldn’t be happy, that was asking too much. She’d have to be content with successful.
It was only later when Sorcha, her nurse mentor for this her first shift continued to rave on about one of their consultants that she started to question her decision to leave.
‘Ruari’s a real hunk and nice too with the cutest bedside manner, not to mention the firmest bum.’ She said on a cackle. ‘Of course you probably won’t run into him this week as he’s been away updating his ALS course, but all the nurses are crazy for him.’
Her face dropped as she listened to the tall bubbly blond staff nurse enthuse again about his liquid brown eyes and taut muscular abs, not to mention a set of ‘glutes’ to die for. She’d only been working in the hospital for six hours and already she’d had to side swerve a date with Archie, the plaster technician, a proposition from one of the theatre porters and now this delectable hunk that was apparently God’s gift to women.
As part of her brain continued to absorb random facts about his generosity and skill as a doctor the rest of her argued against the perfection of any member of the male species. In her book all men were flawed. She’d never known her father or even her grandfather; all she had to go on was Simon - the most flawed of all.
‘Of course I’m not interested.’ Sorcha ended, going a pretty shade of pink.
‘What?’ She said, glancing up from checking where the litres of normal saline lived.
‘I’m getting married next Saturday.’
She heaved her shoulders in relief. Now weddings she could do, it was just all the rubbish that led up to them she found painful.
‘Congratulations. Does he work here too?’ She bent down to look in the back of the cupboard to see exactly where the blood giving sets were housed.
‘Oh no, but his brother does. Paul is about to go into his last year at Trinity – He’s studying to be a vet. I’ll invite you; it’ll be a good way of getting to know people down here.’ She paused. ‘Ruari’s going.’
Grainne visibly shuddered as she located the boxes of luer lock syringes, neatly stacked according to size along the bottom shelf. Sorcha was going to be a problem, obviously.
There was nothing worse than the blissfully happy: They always wanted everyone about them to be as blissfully happy as they were.
‘Thank you, that depends on my shifts. You know - last in and all that.’ She followed her over to the ceiling high drug cupboard before taking the heavy bunch of keys offered.
‘Oh, sure you’ll be able to request. Funny you coming all the way down here from Cork though.’ She added, standing back to allow her to reach the door.
‘Why’s that?’ She sighed. It was hard enough trying to remember which piece of specialist equipment went where without the added distraction of Doctor Ruari’s many and varied attributes. He was probably one of those macho slime balls that bedded and never wedded: She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.
‘Well that’s where Ruari’s gone on his Advanced Life Support course. St Maud’s – that’s where you trained, right?’ She leant forward and took the key from her hand. ‘Here let me, the final lock can be a real bit
ch.’ She added, reaching out and turning the key. ‘I had an email from him earlier - they’ve even had him working a shift in A&E to experience the difference. He’ll probably be full of messages from all your friends.’
Grainne didn’t answer, she couldn’t. Her tongue had glued itself to the roof of her mouth just as her brain had stuttered to a halt. She couldn’t even run and hide in Dublin without coming face to face with her demons; without coming face to face with her memories.
She felt Sorcha’s piercing blue eyes land on her and there they remained for what seemed like hours, but in reality must have only been a couple of seconds.
‘Come on, that’s enough for now. There’s only so much you’ll be able to take in on your first day.’ She gathered together Grainne’s induction folder and beckoned her across to reception. ‘You go away now home and I’ll see you back here bright and early tomorrow.’
Making her way to the changing room she struggled to keep focused, something she’d had lots of practice at over recent weeks. It was the talk of St Maud’s that’d done it of course, she thought, making her way to the stairs. Up until that point she’d managed to hold it together for hadn’t there always been something to focus on? Once she’d made the decision to leave there’d been so much to do. Closing up the cottage was difficult, simply because of all the memories it held between its thick whitewashed walls. But once she’d started it hadn’t taken long to strip beds and empty kitchen cupboards. She wasn’t going to rent it out or anything drastic like that. This was her bolthole; her past and her future. She wanted to be sure it would be empty, ready and waiting for when she finally decided to return home.
Even mundane tasks like changing banks and cancelling the milk had kept her focused until all of the boxes had been ticked on her ‘New Life’ list. After making the decision to move she’d found pouring over the Nursing Times to find herself an agency job strangely enjoyable. Being young, free and now single she could move anywhere and in this case Dublin chose her: It was the first one to check out her details from the agency and it was the only one to offer her a post. Her luck held as the Chief Nursing Officer knew about a flat share in Crumlin with Freddie, one of the nurses from the eye clinic. She’d been a little nervous at first sharing a flat with a male nurse that is until she’d actually met him - Him turning out to be a shy quiet girl called Mabel Frederick, or Freddie for short.
She had thought it was fate. For once everything seemed to be effortless and easy, even the journey up in her little pink car was so uneventful as to be a tad boring. But now everything was unravelling. Now, with no boxes left to tick all that lay ahead was the cold reality of a long and lonely future – she was rightly terrified.
After stuffing her scrubs into the wash basket she headed for her bright car, standing out like a beacon amongst all the drab silvers, blues and blacks.
It was a glorious day outside, one of those last days of summer that made thoughts of approaching winter a distant threat. There wouldn’t be many more days for her denim cut-offs but while the sun was still shining she was determined to keep her fur lined boots packed away in their little box.
Dumping her bag in the back she rested her head against the well-worn seat and closed her eyes on the bright sunshine that seeped warmth on her face. It should have made her feel happy, warm weather was meant to do that wasn’t it? But the reality was there wasn’t a single thing she could feel happy about.
She tried to focus on the benefits of the move, but all she could focus on was what she’d lost. She’d lost her gran first. Even though it had been six months and a blessed relief it still hurt. Her gran had been her main stay - the one thing in her life she’d clung to as a confused three year old left abandoned by her mother in a Dublin squat. Gran had found her and ever since that day she’d been both mother and father to her. She’d battled through the courts to keep her and she’d battled right until she’d lost that last battle. She’d still had Simon, of course, that is until she’d lost him and when she’d lost him she’d lost her home, her job, her friends, her whole life. But even more than that – she’d nearly lost herself.
She squeezed her eyes tight, but still the sadness crept through her eyelashes and trickled down her face. Simon, the man she’d loved. The man she would have done anything for had proved himself worthless.
Blinking away the tears it took all her courage to turn the key in the ignition and make her way across the centre of town towards Crumlin. All she wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and forget; instead she had to go into armed combat with all the other Irish folk racing home for their tea and a night in front of the telly.
Getting home was another hour, one foot on the brake, and one hand on the horn. She finally pulled up outside her new house, a mid-terraced semi backing onto the canal. It wasn’t much, but it was clean and tidy and, at the moment that’s all that mattered.
Opening the door onto silence she suddenly remembered Freddie was spending the evening with her fiancé’s parents in Dun Laoghaire. Heaving a sigh of relief she dumped her bag on the sofa and went to flick on the kettle. She liked Freddie, she was even starting to think of her as a friend but that didn’t mean she didn’t welcome her absence. Sure wouldn’t she see her later for a cuppa and a catch-up.
Within ten minutes she was showered and heading out to the excuse of a garden with a mug in one hand and a book in the other. She’d purposely ignored her phone. It was charged and ready in case of emergencies and that’s where it had remained for the last week. She knew there were texts, just as she knew who they were from – that was all.
The sun, reflecting a gentle glow on the dark water still held warmth within its arms as she settled on the dingy white lounger. Balancing her mug between her knees she opened her book on page one, only to let it fall between her fingers onto the grass below: Now was not the time for other people’s tragedies.
She lay there with only the noise from a light breeze rustling through the bushes behind her to keep her company. Lulled by the heat on her face all the tension from the day seeped out, and her eyelids closed. She hadn’t slept in weeks, she hadn’t eaten properly in months, but now nature took the lead and eased her into a blissful dreamless sleep.
Dublin was about a new beginning – let it start now!
Chapter Two
Things are meant to look better in the morning, or that’s what she told herself driving through the now empty streets - it didn’t help. But she had slept and at least she’d had forewarning on the Ruari front. She spent the journey across town thinking up a couple of humdinger questions to parry any further pincer movements on that front. It was that or rehashing what she’d done or not done to lose Simon, and the less she thought of him the better.
‘So if this Ruari’s such a hunk why hasn’t anyone nabbed him?’
They were sitting side by side on the large well-worn floral sofa that took up most of the space in the miniscule coffee room. It had been a particularly hectic early part of the shift with a smattering of broken bones, cuts and injuries all needing urgent attention. At least they’d only had to admit a couple of the more seriously injured. The Medical and Surgical Matrons guarded their beds like gold dust. It was easier to get into Fort Knox than it was to admit a patient to St Justin’s.
Sorcha picked up her steaming coffee from the pine table before answering ‘Ah, now that’s the million dollar question, I’m not sure of the answer though.’ She added, glancing at Grainne over the top of her mug. ‘I think he’s scared of commitment.’
‘Hmm, him and most of the male population,’ she replied, trying to hide a yawn. Although refreshed from what seemed like the best sleep she’d had in years it still felt as if she could sleep around the clock, and then some.
‘No, you can’t label him like that. He’s in a category all on his own. There’s a rumour he had a bad experience last year. One of the nurses tried to trap him into proposing.’ Grainne’s eyes snapped open. ‘Yeah, that’s right. Apparently she pretended she
was pregnant; since then he’s never dated the same girl more than a couple of times. Come to think of it I can’t remember the last time I saw him out with a girl.’
Oh great! That’s all I need - a doctor that thinks he’s such a catch that us poor nurses would do anything to entrap him.
She leant forward to grab a digestive from the biscuit tin. ‘Well I feel sorry for her. How do we know she wasn’t pregnant, and he didn’t use her before discarding her like an old sock? I wouldn’t let any man treat me like that.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ murmured Sorcha softly. ‘If it wasn’t for Paul I’d be first in the queue. At least I’d get a good meal first and the sex I can imagine would be out of this world.’
‘Well he’d better not try it on with me.’ She drained the rest of her tea and, reaching for the tin picked out another couple of biscuits at random, for some reason suddenly ravenously hungry. ‘If I never go out with another doctor I’ll die a happy woman.’
They didn’t get any further; the ringing phone alerting them to the fact that they were needed back in the department. Hospital breaks were concessionary – if they were busy it was tough.
‘It’s okay Sorcha, you finish off your coffee - you had that RTA to deal with earlier and they’ll probably only need one of us.’ She rinsed out her cup and left it on the draining board. ‘I’ll holler if you’re needed.’ She added, cramming the remaining biscuit in her mouth.
The rest of the morning stormed by on a wave of activity: Tuesday mornings were usually the quietest. Weekends were always the busiest, with the dreaded Friday night/Saturday morning debacles being the worst. By Tuesday all the drunks had sobered up just as all the DIY enthusiasts had been suitably processed and sent on their merry way with an assortment of stitches, dressings and plaster casts.
Girl Descending (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 2) Page 1
