A harsh wind blew bitterly cold over the roof of the hospital, blowing the rain that pelted down like tiny wet bullets back into the face of the woman sitting perched on the ledge. She didn't so much as blink when the wind caused tears to come to her eyes or flinch when her face was peppered by the sharp stings of the water falling at great speed onto her soft skin. None of it could compare to the pain that she felt within – if anything a little physical discomfort was a welcome distraction from the screaming inside her head. Beneath her shone a million tiny lights as the tail end of the rush-hour traffic moved sluggishly around the ring road, carrying the cities inhabitants home at the end of another day. Clearly one shift at the hospital was ending and another beginning because the car park was awash with people. From her vantage point on the top of the building they looked incredibly tiny, like small children's toys crossing the damp tarmac to the more clement conditions of the reception areas. Occasionally the darkness would be penetrated by the blue lights of ambulances roaring up to the ED, their sirens reminding her that there were sounds other than the interminable screaming that filled her mind. No one saw her standing over them, an insignificant silhouette dwarfed by the expanse of the hospital that surrounded her. If they did see her then no one cared, but why should they? They thought she had only cared about other people in the sense that every person leaving the hospital in a better state than when they arrived made her statistics look that little bit better. They were wrong about her but they would never realise and she would never make them – she had more pressing concerns than public opinion. The whole of the past hour of her life was now little more than a series of unpleasant flashbacks as she watched everything important crumble around her.
Flash; she opened the bedroom door to find two people in the bed as opposed to the one person who would have been acceptable.
Flash; they leapt apart, apologies spilling from her mouth, excuses from his. She heard none of them.
Flash; she ran through the hospital,
the rest of the world seemingly impervious to her existence as she
ran up the seven flights of stairs that would take her to the
sanctuary of the roof
A second
figure stepped out onto the roof, pulling his coat around him as he
was assaulted by the harshness of the elements outdoors. Unlike
Connie, Ric felt the cold. It took him a while to register that
someone had beaten him to the retreat that he thought was his and his
alone but confusion was quickly replaced by irritation with the
person who had invaded what he considered to be his space.
He came up here for a reason and he really didn't want or need
company to do what he intended, and yet something was wrong. She
wasn't her normal irritatingly confident, arrogant self – she
seemed sad, she seemed frightened and she seemed to be standing far
closer to the edge than could be considered wise for someone wearing
four-inch heels. For a moment he stood and considered his
next move; he had enough problems without being the man to push
Connie Beauchamp over the edge into oblivion, so he followed her,
hovering in the warmth, listening as she stood and screamed, the wind
stealing the sound from her lungs and carrying it away. He watched
as she moved ever closer to the edge, biding his time until either
she came back inside and potential disaster was averted without his
intrusion or he was left with no choice but to intervene. It was
when she moved so her expensively clad toes pressed against the cold
damp concrete of the low wall that would serve as no deterrent for
someone with a real desire to throw themselves off the building that
he stepped forward. He kept his silence; he didn't want to startle
her. There was no need – she wouldn't have heard him over the
anguished, rage filled screams issuing from her own mouth.
'Connie'
his voice came out as a hushed whisper, the wind stealing his words
and tiding them away as if to protect the virtual silence that
surrounded them.
'What do
you want, Ric?' her voice was hoarse from her recently ceased
screaming and tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks 'Come to say
"I told you so"?'
'Not at
all' he took a chance, moved closer to her, placing one hand on her
arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She pulled away as if
his touch had burned her and he backed off, raising both of his hands
in an invisible shield between them.
'So what
on earth could possibly possess you to come out here on a night as
foul as tonight and risk freezing to death?' she turned to him and
he stifled a gasp. Her skin was as white as the shirt that had gone
virtually see-through in the pouring rain, her eyes rimmed with red
and her lips almost blue. She was clearly freezing and distraught
and yet he knew that an attempt to talk her into coming inside would
be utterly futile.
'I might
ask you the same thing' he retorted, moving alongside her,
mirroring her position with hands folded across chest as they both
gazed out over the flickering lights of the city.
'I asked
you first' she emitted a mirthless laugh and suddenly he grew
colder, despite the fact that he had long ago lost all feeling in his
extremities.
'I'm
sure your reason is more interesting' he countered, rubbing his
upper arms with his hands in a vain attempt to restore his
circulation, the chances of coming off the roof without hypothermia
decreasing by the second.
'I doubt
it' she mumbled miserably and sidestepped along the wall, moving
further from him and glaring as he moved to decrease the distance to
what it had been. Clearly she wanted her space and when she shuffled
away again he did nothing to follow her.
'Try me'
there was a forced lightness in his voice as he turned to her,
determined to look her in the eye despite the fact that this
manoeuvre involved taking the full force of the biting wind to his
face and consequently goose bumps swept across his skin making him
shudder.
'I've
just had a bad day' she shrugged 'I needed some space and I
thought I'd get some up here. Clearly I was wrong' her eyes
narrowed with displeasure, leaving him in no doubt that his presence
on the roof was utterly unwelcome.
'Must
have been a pretty bad day if it's driven you up here in this
weather' he replied, struggling to keep the note of panic from his
voice but if she noticed him waver she didn't show it. He
suspected her expression wouldn't alter from utter misery if he
informed her that she had received funding to turn the hospital into
one huge cardiothorasic extravaganza of which she would be master and
commander.
'At
least it hasn't driven me down there' she nodded in the direction
of the car park and emitted another humourless laugh as he tried to
suppress a shudder at the ease with which she spoke of such things.
'It
would be quicker than death by hypothermia' he remarked
conversationally, the effect somewhat ruined by the sound of his jaw
chattering together in the cold.
'I like
the cold, it distracts me' she informed him sadly and worryingly
raised one foot so it balanced on the low wall, wobbling slightly on
the four-inch heel that she always wore.
'From?'
he moved slightly closer, wanting to have at least a fighting chance
of catching her if she fell. She might not thank him for it but he'd
sooner face the wrath of Connie for saving her than be haunted by her
for letting her fall to her death.
'Everything'
she sniffed heavily and turned to him 'Michael'
'What's
he done?' Ric's voice was resigned as it became apparent that
their esteemed board director was once again responsible for her
devastation and felt a surge of self-righteousness – at least he'd
had the good grace to leave before he pushed any of his wives to the
brink as Michael had driven Connie.
'Its
more who he's done' she let out a small laugh 'he swore that it
wouldn't happen again and then took her to our house. To our bed'
she shuddered 'then he let me catch them together'
'Who?'
he stepped another inch closer but to his relief she didn't shift a
correspondingly greater distance away from him and he counted this as
some sort of progress.
'Chrissie'
she sighed and moved her second foot to join the first on the ledge
so there was nothing standing between her and oblivion, a state of
affairs that caused his heart to race with panic as it became
apparent that if she chose to jump, he would now have no chance of
stopping her.
'He must
be insane' his voice wobbled slightly, the wind dying down slightly
so they no longer had to strain to hear and be heard.
'And yet
I'm the one standing a couple of hundred feet over an ambulance
bay' this time her laugh was bitter and emotionless 'that's
irony for you'
'Is he
really worth all of this?' Ric stepped forward and held out his
hand to her, watching as she wobbled perilously on her ridiculous
heels.
'They're
laughing at me' she told him, ignoring his comment and his offer of
assistance, instead wrapping her arms around herself in a strong
embrace.
'Won't
make a lot of difference if you jump' he retorted, inching closer
to her, still proffering his hand to help her down, needing her to
know that if she wanted a way out, it was there.
'Precisely'
she snapped but there was no longer any conviction in her voice 'I'll
be too dead to care'
'Are you
really going to make it so easy for him?' he paused and then threw
himself into his impassioned speech with gusto – nothing else he
said seemed to be in with a chance of talking her down and it seemed
inevitable that sooner or later things would come to a head. There
was a part of him screaming that forcing her hand was reckless but he
ignored it – at this moment it seemed like the only course of
action that could possibly save her.
'What do
you mean?' she glanced down at him with the sort of superiority she
usually reserved for the board room, except this time he held the
upper hand – he wasn't the one perched perilously several storeys
over a lot of unforgiving concrete.
'This
isn't a means of punishing Michael; he wouldn't feel guilt if you
jumped, it would make it all so much easier for him. The Connie I
know and fight with doesn't make things easy, she fights to the
death for what she wants and what she believes in. You aren't a
quitter – you've never lost an argument yet – and yet you're
seriously considering the coward's way out'
'Coward?'
she flinched at the word and looked down at him sadly 'Is that what
you think this is?'
'Yes'
he agreed without hesitation 'cowardly and selfish'
'So what
would you suggest I do?' she asked quietly as she glanced down at
his outstretched hand, anticipating his response.
'Come
inside and warm up, then go out there and show Michael you aren't
beaten' he suggested and to his relief she took his hand, stepping
from the ledge and collapsing in a shivering heap against him,
allowing him to take her in his arms and hold her, relishing the
shared heat between them that provided some kind of antidote to the
harsh elements surrounding them.
'Are you
okay?' he gave her a sidelong glance as they descended the rickety
flight of steps that led from the roof to the ward beneath.
'Yes'
she bit her lip pensively as she took his outstretched hand and
allowed him to help her down the metal steps that were not designed
for four-inch heels 'are you?'
'Bloody
cold' he retorted with a laugh and rubbed his hands together,
savouring the warmth of the inside as the blood finally returned to
his extremities
'I only
went up there to escape' she informed him quietly as they entered
her office and he poured two large whiskeys from the decanter on the
sideboard and downed one before refilling the glass and moving to sit
beside her on the sofa 'I didn't go to the roof with the
intention of jumping'
'Well
that's good to know' he gave a small smile as she leaned against
him, the shared trauma of the past hour bringing them closer than he
had ever imagined they could be 'because I did'