She noticed that he did look apprehensive and she hadn’t told him the worst. He was going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days. “I’ll give you some information on the differences. And I can pretty much see the infection. I need to get the tooth out and clean it up.”
He gave her a brief nod. She wasn’t sure whether the pain was making it difficult for him to speak or whether he wasn’t speaking because it was her. And right now, she didn’t care.
“I’ll get you prepped.” She threw her gloves in the bin and left him in the room to find Kiefer and give him the good news that they had the world’s grumpiest patient in for at least the next forty minutes.
Stone was the best way she could describe how Scott handled himself while she extracted the two halves of the broken tooth. He’d winced slightly when she’d injected the anaesthetic, clutching onto the chair like it was a lifeline keeping him afloat and then he’d closed his eyes and let her get on with it without a single flinch.
Keren knew she was good at her job. She was gentle with her hands and confident; she would reassure her patients but would also be firm in terms of what needed to be done. And she was good with the kids. If she followed her dream, she would move to the city and specialise as a children’s dentist, even better, children with special needs. And it was a dream she was seriously considering because it looked like having her own children would be off the agenda.
Severton had a serious shortage of single, attractive men who were long-term prospects.
“We’ve done,” she said, hitting a pedal on the chair so it came upright. Scott was pale, his usual swarthy skin whiter than usual with the pain and anxiety. The procedure wasn’t nice; she appreciated that. “I want you to pop back in tomorrow morning so I can check how everything is. It doesn’t matter what time because I can see you between patients. It’s a two-minute check.”
He nodded, moving his jaw up and down, trying to get some relief after it had been in the same position for half an hour. “Tomorrow,” he reiterated. “Anything else?”
She stared at the floor. There was plenty else. Likewhy do you hate me? What did I do? Why can’t we be civil?
“You need a check-up and a scale and polish as maintenance. If I am the problem because you don’t want to see me, then there is another dentist starting here three days a week, so you can book in with him,” she said. “And if you have pain like I know you have been doing, you need to get it seen to. A week ago, I could’ve saved the tooth. Lecture over. There will be antibiotics waiting at the front desk.” She turned her back and listened to him leave her room, Kiefer explaining payment options although she knew Scott Maynard could afford to pay for everyone’s dental treatment this week and not blink an eye.
He was just another patient. And she needed to keep him tightly in that box.
An hour later Keren was slobbing out on her sofa, pyjamas on, dressing gown on and an almighty portion of special chow mein. She surfed between channels showing reality TV programs, although none grabbed her for more than a couple of minutes, and then she perused social media, catching up on other people’s lives because she clearly didn’t have one of her own.
She’d just finished the takeout when the doorbell rang, it’s twee chime enough to make her debate whether she could hide round the back of the sofa and her visitor would fuck off.
Then it rang again, this time accompanied with a not so gentle tap on the door. If she ignored it, she knew damn well that the tap would get louder, followed by shouting and then her neighbour would start to complain aboutthat Maynard girlagain. The same Maynard girl who had been tormenting Severton for thirty years, because Keren was pretty sure that Rayah Maynard had been born a tormentor.
“What?” Keren snapped as she answered the door, not caring that her dressing gown was open and the bunny print pyjamas were on full show. “Why are you here?”
Rayah was wearing what looked like a trench coat and holding a bottle of prosecco.
“Are you wearing slippers?” Keren said, staring down at her best friend’s feet.
“I might be,” Rayah said. “But at least I’m not wearing rabbit pyjamas. Jesus, how long have you had those? I swear I remember them at a sleepover when you were sixteen.”
Keren looked down at her PJ’s. “Yeah, same ones.”
“And they still fit?”
Keren looked down again. Her boobs were bigger and so was her butt. She had always been a curvy girl and she had no issue with that. It gave her an excuse to maintain those curves, like tonight.
“They still fit,” she said. “What’s on under the trench, Pervy?” She used the long standing nickname she had for Rayah as it summed her up completely.
“’Jamas,” Rayah said. “And I need to come in. They’re not winter ones.”
“Holy mother,” Keren’s eyes bugged at the trench coat. “Have you been flashing Severton again? The neighbours really will start to complain.”
“Not yet, but if you don’t let me in, my nipples are likely to become classified as illegal weapons.” Rayah raised the bottle and poked it towards Keren a couple of times. “And I want to drink.”
“Hard day?”
Rayah rolled her eyes. “Hard doesn’t quite sum it up. If teaching really was just teaching, then it’d be a damn sight easier. Nowhere on the job description does it say social worker or parental coach. How about you? I smell Chinese.” Rayah sniffed the air as she entered in a similar manner as Keren had seen dogs sniff another canine’s backside.
“My last patient was your cousin.” She headed straight through to the narrow galley kitchen to get glasses. She hadn’t intended drinking tonight, thinking she’d leave it till nearer the weekend, but a couple of glasses to numb the pain of having spent time with Scott sounded like a good idea.
Rayah sat on the kitchen worktops, because even though she was thirty, she hadn’t grown up. “I saw him briefly when I went to steal that bottle from his bar. His face looked swollen, so I figured something was up. Not that I asked.”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Keren said, popping the bottle.
