Chapter 22
22
‘What have you got lined up for this week then, Tilly?’ Jonathan asks as he takes a mouthful of potato a month or so later.
‘Usual stuff. Day shifts from tomorrow and then my sister has finally decided that she trusts me enough to take my nephew out for the day on Saturday.’
When Will told me I’d been inducted into the Sunday lunch club, I didn’t realise that meant I’d effectively be kidnapped by Jonathan every Sunday I wasn’t working. I don’t mind, actually. Today’s roast is beef, with the most amazingly light Yorkshire puddings. Will informed me when I arrived that pudding will be treacle sponge with custard, which is probably going to finish me off. These Sundays tend to follow a similar format. Jonathan brings mountains of food out of the kitchen, we eat and then he disappears upstairs for a nap while Will and I clear up before sneaking out to the workshop to check on progress. Things are definitely happening as the enormous helicopter is now free of its blanket and sitting on the workbench. According to Will, Jonathan is starting to spend more time out there, and he overheard him on the phone talking to one of his old flying friends a week or so ago.
‘I don’t know how you manage shift work,’ Jonathan says with a smile. ‘I used to find just working regular hours tiring enough without having to alternate days and nights.’
‘It does bring its challenges,’ I reply tactfully.
The biggest challenge, which is totally unrelated to shift patterns and which I’m also not talking to Jonathan and Will about, is still Luke, unfortunately. Although I haven’t seen him since our confrontation in the staffroom, the law of probabilities means that the likelihood of our schedules aligning is growing with every shift, and I’ve managed to convince myself it’s got to be tomorrow. I’ve tried very hard to keep him out of my mind, but he’s still a malign presence, somewhere right at the back. In the end, I decided not to complain to HR, much to Tash’s disgust, but I just felt I didn’t need the extra aggro. I’ve pacified her by promising faithfully that I won’t hesitate if he steps even slightly out of line again, though.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ Jonathan announces. ‘You should bring your nephew along to flying club on Saturday. I’m going and I’m sure he’d find it interesting.’
‘I doubt it,’ Will counters before turning to me. ‘When Dad says flying club, what he actually means is a group of middle-aged and elderly men standing in a field flying remote-controlled aircraft. How old is your nephew?’
‘Three, coming up four.’
‘Yeah. I’m not sure it’s going to be his idea of a good time.’
‘I don’t know,’ Jonathan persists. ‘I was talking to Bernard and apparently the number of 3D flyers has gone up dramatically since I was last there. I can’t bear them myself, terrible show-offs, but it might be entertaining for a young person.’
‘3D flyers are the stunt people,’ Will explains. ‘There’s fierce rivalry between the scale model people who build realistic models and fly them as if they’re the full-sized thing, like Dad, and the stunt people. The scale model people think the stunt people are arseholes, and the stunt people think the scale people are fuddy-duddies. And that’s before you get into the rivalry between the helicopter people and the fixed-wing aircraft people. It’s a murky world where everyone seems to bear some sort of grudge.’
‘I think grudge is a bit harsh,’ Jonathan argues. ‘I’d prefer to call it a healthy rivalry.’
‘Grudge,’ Will says again, firmly. ‘Although the stunt guys would probably love having an A she appears to be a fairly no-nonsense sort of person on the surface, although I notice the corners of her mouth turning up when she spots me looking at her. I think we’ll probably get on fine. I’m still buzzing with curiosity though. What happened to Luke?
Dr Patel seems to be having one of her cryptic days and is pointedly ignoring my questioning looks every time I see her, which only adds to my frustration. I’m just about to come out with it and ask her directly when she pulls me to one side.
‘I’m not going to get any peace, am I?’ she asks with a sigh.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You. You’ve been staring at me all shift. I can read you like a book, Tilly. You’re desperate to know what happened to Dr Milne.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘OK. You won’t mind if I don’t tell you then. It’s probably confidential anyway.’
Shit. ‘Well, seeing as you brought him up,’ I begin. ‘I guess it would be useful to know, just so I can deal with any queries that might come my way.’
Dr Patel laughs softly. ‘Oh, you’re very good. Congratulations. OK, I don’t think I’m betraying any confidences if I told you that there was a meeting to review how well Dr Milne had settled into his new role. HR, the senior A&E consultants and Dr Milne agreed, after some discussion, that his, umm, unique talents were probably not best suited to our department. A package was agreed for us to part ways, and we wished him all the best in his future endeavours.’
‘Do you know where he’s gone?’
‘I don’t, although I’m sure we’ll get a request for a reference at some point. That’s going to be a tricky one, which I think I’m going to let HR deal with.’
The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. ‘You didn’t fire him because of me, did you?’
‘Nobody fired anyone,’ she says sternly. ‘It was a mutually agreed decision and your name was never mentioned. The truth is that Dr Milne was too much of a loose cannon to thrive in an environment like this. Dr Rogers and I both had occasions to intervene when he suggested risky or unapproved treatments, and life is stressful enough without having to second-guess your junior doctors. Dr Rutherford comes highly recommended with glowing references and, so far, has been an absolute joy to work with. That really is as much as I can tell you, Tilly.’
‘Thank you, Dr Patel. I appreciate it.’
‘No problem. I trust you have sufficient information to deal with any queries now. Shall we get back to work?’
I’m unprepared for the huge sense of relief that carries me through the rest of my shift. It truly feels like the dark clouds have finally parted and the sun has come out. Luke has gone.
It’s only when I’m on the drive home that a small rain cloud appears on the horizon. Luke may have gone, but I’ve still got Jonathan’s cryptic warning about Will to deal with. What on earth is that about?