Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The white envelope in my scrub top pocket, practically burned a hole through the fabric. I felt the weight of its intention so acutely. I scrolled down the list of today’s patients on the computer screen to find I had several of my favourites booked in.
At ten-thirty there was Alison, a sixty-three-year-old grandmother who had sole care of her only granddaughter because her own daughter was unfit to parent her; she was a heroin addict who had repeatedly fallen off the Methadone Weaning Programme, desperately searching for her next hit.
Alison’s stress levels were usually through the roof, and subsequently her desquamative gum condition flared up regularly and painfully enough for her to attend my appointments at least every ten weeks.
We’d built up a great relationship over the last four years and she often confided her problems, grateful to have an ear to listen with the knowledge it was in complete confidence.
She’d had a hard life; I didn’t envy her.
My eleven o’clock patient was a gentleman who, two years ago, had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. It had thankfully been caught in time and treated. He was now recovering well.
My eleven-thirty patient was a fourteen-year-old school girl, who had almost as many fillings as she did teeth. Her mother had booked her in with me to discuss her oral hygiene habits and sugar consumption.
Twelve o’clock was a new patient I had never met before. Notes stated he was a thirty-four-year-old smoker with no other medical conditions.
And twelve-thirty was one of my favourite patients who I’d treated for periodontal disease from my very first day at Appollo, seeing him every three months without fail ever since.
This was what was hard to leave. If only I could live with John and bring my favourite practice and patients with me. Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way and I had to make a choice.
‘You’re leaving?’ Maria said, shocked at my news.
As far as bosses go, she was the best I’d ever had, more than fair, generous and loyal.
And an overall lovely human being. I couldn’t have got through the last few months without her, and my other lovely colleagues who brightened my day just by being there.
They had been my constants, never judging, always supportive.
‘If I don’t go, I’ll always wonder. I’m sorry.’ I hung my head. She had been so good to me.
‘I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. I’m just shocked at the timing. It seems very soon, Lucy.’ She was disappointed to be losing me, but a maternal concern glinted in her chocolate-coloured eyes.
I could imagine what it looked like from the outside. The rebound. I’d thought of it all, and what other people thought was no longer significant. The only thing that mattered was being with John.
If it didn’t work out, I could move home. Okay, she would have found a replacement for me by then, but I could wait in the wings and hope for maternity cover down the line. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Prayed I was making the right decision.
I agreed on Sunday to try it. The thought of leaving him again for another long week ripped my insides apart. We’d both wish the hours away until the weekend began again. And the weather was turning, flights and trains would become unpredictable and impractical. John was over the moon.
I needed to be with him. It was that simple.
‘Are you sure?’ She reluctantly took the envelope from my trembling hands.
‘I’m not sure of anything. Apart from that, I need to be with him,’ I told her honestly.
‘I wish you all the best. I hope it works out for you, really, I do. I’ll always have a job for you, if you ever decide to come home. I mean it.’ She placed a warm hand on my back, as she opened her office door.
Clara sat behind her computer on reception, her face pointed into a downward pinch. She knew exactly what I had done, and I got the distinct impression she wasn’t impressed.
‘Wednesday Wine Club?’ I suggested the usual midweek drink.
‘I’ve got an awful feeling I’m going to need one.’ She flicked her black hair back from her shoulders, eyebrows raised. I blew her a kiss as I walked into my surgery, holding back the tears.