Chapter 3
3
‘Your dinner’s in the dog,’ Mike announces from the sofa as I shut the front door behind me just before 10p.m.
‘We don’t have a dog,’ I reply.
‘Fine. It’s in the oven then. It’s been there a while, so it might be a little crispy around the edges. It’s lasagne. At least, it was when I put it in there. God only knows what it is now. Nuclear waste, probably. Where have you been? Your shift finished ages ago.’
‘I’ve been to the pub,’ I tell him smugly. ‘We had a new junior doctor start today and he invited me for a drink.’
This has the desired effect. I can practically see Mike’s ears pricking up.
‘A new junior doctor,’ he repeats slowly.
‘That’s right.’
‘And he invited you for a drink on his first day?’
‘Yup.’
‘Just you, or was it a general invitation?’
I sigh. ‘I’m not sure. I think I may have misread the signals.’
‘How so?’
‘I assumed it was a general invitation, but when I said I’d ask the others, I could swear he looked disappointed.’
Mike laughs. ‘Oh, Tilly. I thought it was us guys who were supposed to miss the non-verbal cues.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m out of practice. Anyway, everyone else had other stuff going on, so it was just the two of us in the end.’
His expression turns thoughtful. ‘If he was genuinely inviting you on your own, that’s a bit predatory, isn’t it? Especially on his first day. Calm down, horndog.’
‘Says the man who’s slept with half the nurses in the hospital? Bit rich, Mike.’
‘I wouldn’t say half. A few. A handful. Some.’
Technically, there are three of us that share this flat. There’s me, Mike and Lena, who owns it. We found it because Lena was advertising for tenants on the hospital SharePoint site that staff use for all their wanted and for sale posts. The odd thing is that, as far as we could work out, Lena didn’t actually have any connection to the hospital. She certainly doesn’t work there, so how she got the advert up on an internal website was a mystery.
The second oddity where Lena is concerned is that, although she owns the flat and has a bedroom that she keeps securely padlocked, she’s pretty much never here. We met her when she interviewed us, and we’ve probably seen her no more than a handful of times in the years since. She pays her share of the bills and everything as if she were here, so we don’t really mind, but we came up with various theories about her in the early days, from extended stays in rehab to her being an undercover agent. As it turned out, the truth was both more mundane and more impressive: she’s a doctor with an NGO, and spends most of her time in disaster zones.
Unlike Lena, Mike does work at the hospital, as a discharge manager. That’s not his proper job title, but it’s what I call him because it amuses me and winds him up. His role is to coordinate patients who are leaving the hospital, getting them moved to the discharge lounge (its actual name), and notifying admissions of the beds that will be vacant. It’s actually a lot more complicated than that, as he frequently reminds me when I’m teasing him, but that’s the gist of it. The joy, for him, is that he gets to work reasonably regular hours.
I’ve never quite understood how Mike manages to attract the opposite sex as easily as he does; he’s a nice enough guy, but I wouldn’t rank him as any more than average in the looks department. In my less charitable moments, I sometimes wonder whether his decision to work at the hospital was less to do with a desire to help people in their hour of need, and more because of the smorgasbord of young women that would surround him. There are certainly a few people I can no longer look in the eye if I bump into them at work, having come across them barely clothed in the kitchen of our flat after spending the night with Mike. In the spirit of total honesty, I should probably confess that I’ve also slept with Mike, but it was just the once, a year or so after we’d moved into the flat. We’d both had a fair amount to drink and I was curious to find out what his secret was. He didn’t take a lot of persuading, and the sex was OK if my slightly hazy memory serves me right but, after an extremely awkward conversation the following morning, we both agreed that we worked better as friends and we’ve never mentioned it since.
‘So, tell me more about the lecherous doctor,’ Mike prompts as I settle myself on the sofa next to him with my plate of lasagne. The best thing about living with him is that he’s a superb cook and is fairly territorial about the tiny kitchen, so I rarely have to worry about food.
‘His name is Luke,’ I tell him as I load my fork and bring it to my mouth. The pasta may be a little crispy at the edges, but there’s nothing wrong with the flavour. ‘He’s moved down from Milton Keynes to look after his mother, who sounds like she’s probably suffering from dementia.’
‘Altruistic of him.’
‘I’m not sure he has a choice. He told me in the pub that he’s an only child.’
I regret the words as soon as I’ve said them, but it’s too late; Mike is already pursing his lips in disapproval. As the youngest of five, he thinks only children are unnatural, growing up with no concept of hand-me-downs and an inherent inability to share because they’re not used to it. We’ve spent many a booze-fuelled evening hotly debating this point, as there’s absolutely no empirical evidence to support his theory, but he won’t be moved.
‘I know, I know,’ I tell him soothingly. ‘Let’s not do this again.’
‘I’d steer clear, if I were you,’ he says, undeterred. ‘He’s probably as selfish in bed as his type are about everything else,’ Mike snorts. ‘The problem with your only child is they think the world revolves completely around them. My advice would be to give him the brush-off and chalk it up as a lucky escape.’
‘There’s nothing to brush off,’ I say, more firmly than I meant to. ‘I think he’s just lonely and wanted to make some new friends.’
‘That’s bollocks,’ Mike scoffs. ‘He didn’t want new friends, he wanted a specific new more-than-friend. Also, only children have no concept of loneliness. It’s literally their idea of heaven. He’s up to no good, mark my words.’
‘I think you’re being a little over-suspicious.’
‘I don’t know. His mum lives in town, you say?’
‘Yes. Monson Road.’
‘Hmm. And did he grow up locally, or has she recently moved here?’
‘He grew up here before moving to Milton Keynes.’
‘My point exactly!’ he says triumphantly.
‘You haven’t made a point,’ I retort.
‘I may not have articulated it to you, but it was there in my head all along. The point is this. If he grew up here, and he’s not a narcissistic weirdo like all the other only children in the world, where are all his friends, eh?’
‘Right. Enough,’ I say firmly. ‘I know you don’t like only children because of Caroline?—’
‘Evil cow,’ he interjects.
‘—because she’s the only woman you ever seem to have genuinely cared about and she dumped you, but you can’t extrapolate your experiences with her to every single other person who happens to have the same family structure. It’s nonsense, Mike. And, while we’re on the subject, it could be said that your one-man crusade to sleep with every woman under forty at the hospital is also a little narcissistic. What do you say to that?’
He smiles. ‘Firstly, I’d argue that Kim was forty-two, and secondly I’m not being narcissistic. I’m doing what every well-adjusted young man who’s grown up in a normal family would do. I’m sharing the love.’
I stare at him in disbelief.
‘Oh my God. You actually believe that, don’t you?’
‘Naturally. Anyway, we’re getting off the subject, which is lonely Luke. Do you like him?’
I consider for a moment before giving my answer. ‘Yes. He’s very good-looking. I’ll admit to fancying him and he seems like a really nice person. He stares at me though, which I find a bit disconcerting.’
‘What, eyeing you up on the job? You could probably file a sexual harassment complaint.’
‘No, nothing pervy. It’s only when he’s talking to me. He looks at me really intensely.’
Mike grins. ‘That’s a new one for the book. Only child, lack of social skills because no siblings to practise on.’
‘Oh, do knock it off. You’re obsessed, you know that?’
‘You wait. I’ll be the darling of the medical world when I’ve finished collating my evidence and published my findings. I might even get a Nobel Prize.’
I sigh deeply. ‘Delusional fantasies. We ought to get you assessed.’
‘That might be fun, depending on who did it and what they were assessing. Anyway, lovely but lonely Luke stares at you. Anything else?’
‘No. As I said, he seems nice, if a bit intense. Dr Patel tore him off a strip because he was late this morning, so he’s frightened of her.’
‘She’s a frightening woman.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘I’ve passed her in the corridor a few times. She has a consultant walk.’
‘A what?’
‘You know, as if they’re elevated beings and the rest of us are just a nasty smell under their noses.’
Although I think he’s generalising massively, I can’t disagree with him where Dr Patel is concerned. I like her, but that is exactly how she walks. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it. The funny thing is that she’s really not like that. At least, not with me.
‘How was your day then?’ I ask, deciding it’s time to change the subject. ‘Discharge anything interesting?’
‘The usual litany of cock-ups and miscommunications,’ he says, ignoring my barb. ‘One of the wards sent a patient down to the discharge lounge first thing this morning without informing me, so I didn’t organise transport or anything for them. At half past two, I got a phone call laying into me because the patient was still there! Cheek of them.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I explained, very carefully and patiently I felt, that the process only works if people tell me what’s going on. The charge nurse didn’t like that at all, and tried to imply it was my fault, but I caught him in the classic Mike trap.’
‘Which is?’
‘No new patient in the vacant bed. We’re always flat out, and yet he didn’t think it odd that the room was just sitting there empty? He was also strangely unable to locate copies of the paperwork that should have come to me. It was a pretty short conversation after that.’
‘What happened to the patient?’
‘Oh, we got her home eventually. I don’t think she minded, actually. She’d been having a lovely time chatting to the other people who came through. Sometimes you forget how lonely some people are. Which brings me neatly back to your doctor friend. What are you going to do about him?’
‘I’m not going to do anything about him.’
‘Good. Stick to the dating apps and steer clear of the needy doctor, that’s my advice.’
‘He’s needy now?’
‘Needy, intense – it’s all the same thing.’
‘I’m really not sure it is. Anyway, the apps are giving pretty slim pickings at the moment.’
‘I did wonder. It must be over a month since your last date.’
I shudder at the memory. My last serious relationship fizzled out quietly a year ago and, despite my best efforts since, all the men I’ve met through the apps have been disasters of one kind or another. The last one, Eduardo, seemed promising on the first date, but evidently felt that date two was going to end in my bedroom, dropping so many lewd innuendos that he gave me the ick and I had to invent an emergency to escape him. I launch one of the apps on my phone and hand it to Mike, who begins swiping through the profiles.
‘I see what you mean,’ he observes after a while. ‘I wouldn’t date any of these either.’
‘To be honest, I’m losing faith in the apps anyway. Even the guys I’ve liked enough to meet in real life turned out either to be chancers or just interested in casual sex. I’m thirty-four, Mike. Is it wrong to be looking for more than that?’
‘I think you’re probably asking the wrong person. Anyway, you’re off tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Yup. Four days off and then three night shifts.’
‘Want a glass of wine to celebrate your mini-break? I’ve got a rather nice Chablis open if you fancy some.’
‘Yeah, why not?’
* * *
As I brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I find myself replaying my interactions with Luke and trying to work out if there’s any meaning behind them. Is there any truth in Mike’s assessment of him? The more I think about it, the more sure I am that I saw a flash of disappointment cross Luke’s face when I suggested inviting the rest of the team to the pub. Maybe he was hoping for something more intimate after all. If that’s true, he got his wish in the end, and I did enjoy spending time with him, even if he is a bit intense. He’s definitely a step up from the guys I’ve met online recently and, although I don’t know him that well yet, the idea of building something long-term with him doesn’t feel impossible at all.
I allow that thought to linger in my mind as I pull on a T-shirt and slip under my duvet. I don’t share Mike’s frankly ludicrous prejudice against single children. Whatever he says, that’s all about his ex, Caroline, and the fact that I suspect he’s still in love with her. In fact, I’ve often wondered whether his one-man crusade to sleep with every woman at the hospital is his way of saying, ‘See, Caroline? I don’t need you. I can have anyone I want.’ As I switch off the bedside light and adjust the pillows to get comfortable, I find myself wondering what sort of lover Luke would be. I don’t think he’d be selfish; if he looks at me that intensely when we’re just having a chat, what on earth would it be like if we were naked in bed together? The thought isn’t at all unwelcome, and I feel warmth spreading around my body as I imagine his face above mine, drinking me in with his eyes as we move together.
I could be reading way more into this than there is, but it’s been a while since anyone looked at me the way Luke did earlier, and I decide to indulge myself and let the fantasy play out as I drift off to sleep. My last thought as I sink into oblivion is that maybe I’ll take the reins and invite him for a drink next time we’re on shift together.