Violet #2
‘No.’ Violet was quick to shut her down. ‘No, thanks. I don’t need to talk about it. I just wanted to explain, why I was so prickly earlier. Well– why I was even pricklier than usual.’ She gave one of her abrupt laughs.
Anjali slowed her pace and looked Violet directly in the eye.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said. ‘I know you’re not a fan of emotional conversations.
And I know you’re a very private person.
But it does help sometimes to share these things.
It means people around you can understand your reactions a bit better and sometimes, believe it or not, it can help make you feel better too. Less alone?’
Violet nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.
‘I’ve been to visit her this evening. In her home.
They’re really lovely there and she’s happy, I think.
She’d certainly tell them if she wasn’t.
I guess I just resented the implication that my family had dumped her in the same way as the families you’re describing.
It hurts– to feel judged for something like that. ’
Anjali nodded. ‘I get that,’ she said. ‘And I’m sorry. Sorry about your grandmother too. Were you close?’
‘We are close,’ said Violet. ‘Still. Even closer if anything. She’s the only other member of the family who is as capable of causing immediate and lasting offence as me. My parents are tact and diplomacy personified, but Gran’s a hoot– makes me look like a UN peacekeeper in comparison.’
‘She sounds brilliant.’ Anjali paused. ‘Violet,’ she said.
‘Please don’t worry about offending me. Honestly, I get it.
My brother’s on the autistic spectrum. Well, it was called Asperger’s when he was diagnosed but I suppose you’d now call it high-functioning autism.
He’s a professor of astrophysics at Imperial so it’s not like the diagnosis held him back at all, but he comes out with some pretty blunt statements from time to time, so I’m used to just…
’ She reached out suddenly to touch Violet’s arm.
‘Sorry. I’m not suggesting that you’re– I, uhm– what I meant was…
’ She trailed off and brought her fingertips to her forehead.
‘No– right.’ Violet laughed self-consciously.
‘That’s okay. I– right…’ The conversation had taken an unexpected turn– it must be bad if even she realised that Anjali had said something awkward.
Keen to get back on familiar turf she pulled her list out of her pocket and scanned the patient names while Anjali rearranged her face.
‘So, who do you want me to see first,’ she said eventually.
‘The shortness of breath, the chest pain or the swollen leg?’
They parted ways and Violet allowed herself a small smile.
It wasn’t often that she was the innocent bystander while someone else put their foot in it.
But as she strode down the corridor to ward five she began to process Anjali’s words and consider them a little more deeply.
The fact that Anjali had mentioned autism chimed with a conversation she’d overheard her parents having many years ago.
She’d been unable to sleep one night, she wasn’t sure why, something had happened, one of those occasions where she’d misjudged a situation, and she’d tiptoed downstairs to get a glass of water.
Her parents’ raised voices had surprised her, she remembered that, because it was so unusual to hear them disagreeing.
Her father had said something about ‘traits’ and ‘the spectrum’ and Violet’s mum has said something like, ‘doesn’t seem to be a problem’ and ‘no different to your brother Dave,’ and her dad had said, ‘What? Dave with his collection of Lord of the Rings figurines and his spreadsheet of Chelsea’s goal average spanning the past twenty years? ’ And her mum had gone quiet for a bit.
During her time at medical school Violet had paid attention to their one lecture on neurodiversity a little more attentively than her classmates, but one of the key points was that autism occurred much more commonly in boys, and besides, she wasn’t prone to anxiety, she wasn’t hypersensitive to noise, and she didn’t think she’d ever had a meltdown or a shutdown episode.
The criteria didn’t really seem to apply to her any more than the ones for polycystic ovaries or irritable bowel syndrome did, and she knew there was always a danger of medical students convincing themselves they had every condition under the sun.
Now, as on those two previous occasions, she stored Anjali’s comment away for later analysis.
After all, there was a hell of a lot going on in her head already without having to consider a self-imposed diagnostic category to add to the ‘geek’, ‘frigid’ and ‘odd’ labels of her youth.
Those were words she had worked hard to distance herself from– she didn’t want to deliberately unearth another one.
* * *
Later, after she’d clerked in two new patients and reviewed the blood results of several others, she bumped into Gus on ward seven. He was writing up his notes at the nurses’ station and looked up as she approached.
‘Hey! I forgot to ask earlier. How was your swim?’ He smiled one of his easy grins and her heart gave a little lift of relief. He didn’t seem to have made any negative judgement following her earlier outburst in the MAU office.
‘Yeah, it was good thanks.’ She smiled back shyly as she took a seat next to him. ‘I slept much better today. Could you just pass me one of those continuation sheets?’
Gus leaned across the desk and gave her the paper with a dramatic flourish.
‘How about you, did you– errr– sleep well?’ Violet asked, the image of a drowsy tousle-haired Gus wearing very few clothes immediately popping into her head.
On the previous night shifts she’d noticed little details that might indicate fatigue– the heel of his hand pressed into his temple in the early hours of the morning, the wide expansive yawns as dawn approached, arms stretched over his head, scrub top lifting just enough to catch a glimpse of toned midriff– but now she wondered what he looked like when he was deeply asleep, how the muscles in his neck and shoulders would relax into the pillow, how his lashes would flicker and come to settle brushed against his tanned cheeks, how his lips would part, just slightly, enough to feel his breath against your ear if you were lying next to him…
She drifted in this thought for so long that she missed his response and had to ask him to repeat it.
‘I was just saying that I’m looking forward to joining you later,’ he said.
‘For a sleep?’ she said without thinking.
‘Err– no. I meant for a swim.’
‘Of course.’ She looked down at the desk, her cheeks burning and a pulse thudding in her throat.
‘A swim at the lido,’ he continued quickly. ‘Like you’d suggested?’
Violet was still staring hard at the desk surface as if intending to commit the pattern of ink splodges and mug-circles to memory. If she kept her mouth closed, then maybe she wouldn’t say something even more stupid. She heard Gus’s voice falter slightly.
‘Or– would you prefer it if I didn’t?’ he said. ‘It’s no bother. If it’s, you know, your special thing– something that you like to do on your own. I don’t want to be in the way…’
‘No, that’s great,’ she said, looking back up. She felt a slight sense of panic at the idea of his not accompanying her and wanted to say the right thing. ‘I do usually prefer to be on my own, you’re right. But I want you to come. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.’
‘Of course.’ He grinned again. ‘I forget that Violet Winters is one of those rare individuals who says what they actually mean. I take it if you do change your mind, you absolutely will tell me?’
‘Yes, I will,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll change my mind. I don’t tend to do that very often.’
‘Steadfast and honest.’ He closed the cover on the notes he’d been writing in. ‘Rare indeed.’
‘That makes me sound quite dull,’ she said, checking his face– was he making fun of her? ‘Makes me sound like a donkey, or a really boring side character in a novel, the one who hankers after being a bit more interesting.’
‘Oh, no,’ he said, standing to leave. ‘You are plenty interesting, Dr Winters.’ He smiled as he brushed past her chair. ‘Plenty interesting. I’ll see you later.’
Violet looked back down at her notes as her cheeks flushed again.
Really, she was going to have to stop responding to his gentle teasing in this way– it was most out of character from her point of view, and it wasn’t as if he meant to flirt with her.
She was again reminded of Anjali’s words at the start of the week about how Gus made people feel special without really trying.
About the fact that this was just his manner, nothing intentional.
She mustn’t let herself get sidetracked into thinking she was in any way significant in his life.
He was engaged and therefore had obviously found the person who he thought was really, properly special– anything else was just a result of his ability to establish an easy rapport.
But she did find herself wondering exactly who this amazing fiancée was, the one woman who Gus had chosen to spend the rest of his life with.
She must be pretty impressive to have netted this particular catch because any normal girl on the receiving end of the full beam of his affections would surely spontaneously combust, given that mere mortals such as Violet herself were capable of falling under his spell simply from the peripheral fallout.
Still, she shook her head crossly. No point in wondering any further about this mysterious goddess who’d captured Gus’s heart.
It was none of her business and Dev would have a field day if he knew she was mooning about like an absolute tragic.
She was no romantic heroine, overlooked or otherwise.
She was a doctor with a clinical mind and a scientific outlook– romance was neither a topic she was familiar with, nor an item on her ‘to-do’ list. Her response to Gus was purely physical– simple biochemistry playing out in the laboratory of real life.
The fact that he made her feel good about herself, and that she really enjoyed his company, was neither here nor there.
As she’d already told herself a mere twelve hours earlier, there were myriad reasons as to why she couldn’t be with someone like Gus, even if he hadn’t been engaged to a glamorous television executive, but the main one was that charming, good-looking men were not to be trusted.
Violet risked a quick look down the corridor and saw his figure receding into the distance.
He glanced backwards over his shoulder, threw a megawatt smile in her direction and exited the ward like a film star leaving the stage.
Annoyingly she felt that same little flutter in her throat, despite her own personal pep talk.
She wondered idly about having Never Trust A Charmer tattooed on her lower back to match Dev’s Aztec Don’t Be A Dick warrior motif– because having stern words with herself currently didn’t seem to have sufficient effect.