‘Scones and buns from the bakery.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ I say as Romy takes the bag.
‘You will get some, won’t you?’ Mrs Parkinson looks concerned.
‘I will. I’ll wrestle them off her.’
‘Wrestle me to the ground, will you?’ Romy shoots at me.
I do a double-take. ‘If I have to,’ I suggest.
She double-takes back at me.What’s happening. Are we flirting? With an OAP in between us?
‘Good,’ Mrs Parkinson replies, with a smile that shows she’s not missed any of what just went on there. And then she confirms it by saying, ‘There’s plenty to go round for all of you, so no one has to wrestle anyone to the ground unless you want to.’
I feel myself blush, as this went deeply unprofessional within seconds. Then I blush even harder when Mrs Parkinson reaches across for my hand.
‘Thank you again,’ she says softly.
‘You’re very welcome. Thanks for the treats.’
She gives me and Romy a warm smile and leaves, and I look at her as she goes. Mrs Parkinson is a good one. I’ve had a variety of patients since I arrived here a few weeks ago and I’ve really loved it. I didn’t expect to. I thought it would be boring. And yes, while there’s nothing hugely exciting about Mrs Parkinson’s varicose veins and her lungs, which don’t sound quite as they should, there’s such a sense of satisfaction in thinking I might actually be making a difference – that she feels I am, that I’ve helped in some way, the only way I can – and given some comfort, taken some action.
I’m appreciated.
Not by everyone. It’s a doctor’s surgery not a Disney film, but I’m enjoying learning, enjoying helping, enjoying being here. Being a GP is not remotely what I see myself doing, but it’s not that bad, all things considered.
My phone dings and I look at it briefly. It’s a paragraphof chatty text from Aury. Again. She’s messaged a few times over the past few months and I’ve not been able to respond. I feel weird, as if everything’s changed, even though nothing has. I don’t think I want to be friends. I don’t think I want to be near her. I also know this is a massive overreaction, but since her house-warming party months and months ago, and since Ben said what he said, it feels like a mistake to spend time with her.
No, not a mistake. Torture.
My heart hurts, my guts feel twisted, my mind can’t concentrate on anything of any use. What I want to say to Aury, I can’t. What I want to do with her, I can’t. I feel useless around her – pathetic. So it’s best not to be near her, right? I’m making a difference here. I’m sort of hero-worshipped by elderly people and, right now, I need this. I need this boost. This is where I’m meant to be. I’m not meant to be in Aury’s wake, lusting after her from ten paces away. I need to put a bit of distance between us, throw myself into what remains of my degree, my exams, my placements. Yes, that’s what I need to do.
My phone dings again and another mini-paragraph arrives from Aury. My automatic reaction is now to sigh and pocket my phone again. Usually I leap on the phone when she messages and reply in seconds. But I’ve not been doing that, and she’s going to work out something’s wrong, surely. I don’t know how she hasn’t already. Then more text will arrive. Maybe I should cut her off at the pass, reply now and—
I suddenly whoosh back to focus on my surroundings as Romy hands me an iced bun on a paper plate. ‘Oh, I love these,’ I say. ‘Used to eat them when I was a kid.’
‘Me too,’ she says, licking icing from her fingers. I watch, entranced, as this petite brunette with a wide mouth and a dirty laugh eats her iced bun in the most provocative way I’ve ever seen anyone eat a bun before. I watch her lick her fingers and her eyes fix on mine. I can’t look away. I don’t think I’m even blinking.
I take a huge bite of my own bun, knowing time is against me and that I need to see another patient imminently.
‘Do you want to grab a drink after work?’ she asks.
My mouth is loaded with iced bun and I stop chewing while I think.
Her eyes widen at me. ‘It’s a drink, not a death-sentence,’ she says.
‘Oh … yeah, that sounds nice,’ I reply, after swallowing the biggest bit of bun ever. It hurts all the way down and I resist the urge to cough. ‘Yeah, great.’
‘Great,’ she echoes. ‘And if you want to wrestle me to the floor afterwards, then … it’s up for discussion.’
I cough in surprise, but Romy has already called the next patient for me. I’m greeted with a wide smile from another geriatric. I greet him with a wide smile back and usher him inside my office to begin his appointment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Aurora
I’m having dinner with Ben. It feels safe to do this now – be alone with him. It’s been so, so long since we were together that now it feels like reminiscing, rather than inviting romance into the ring. Our urgent promise to keep meeting up regularly went by the wayside, as usual. Why is life so busy? I’m not sure I like being an adult any more.
