As Connie drove Zubin's car through the streets of Holby, she asked, "Just how much of that scotch did you drink?" "About half of it," Zubin said, now sounding very sleepy and slightly slurred. "Then I'm amazed you could still stand," Connie said, clearly a little impressed. Zubin laughed in fond memory. "You should have seen me and Ric in med school. I think we developed a tolerance to alcohol to get away with just about anything the morning after." "Why am I not surprised?" Connie said disgustedly, as she turned into Zubin's street.
Zubin stumbled as they walked up the garden path, and Connie yet again pulled his arm through hers. When Zubin had searched in his pockets for his key, Connie let them in. "Zubin!" Jess cried when she saw them, flying forward to put her arms round him. "Where have you been?" "I think he could do with sleeping it off," Connie told her quietly, saving Zubin the task of searching for an adequate answer. "You're drunk," Jess said to him, understanding Connie's explanation of things. "A little perhaps," Zubin said evasively, but they could all hear just how difficult it was for him to form a coherent sentence. "Come on," Ric said to him, taking his arm from Connie and leading Zubin towards the stairs. "It might actually help you to have a decent night's sleep for once."
When Ric and Zubin had gone upstairs, Jess and Connie simply stood and looked at each other. "Where was he?" Jess asked timidly, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer. "That's not something Zubin would want you to know," Connie told her quietly. "Tell me!" Jess insisted, tears of combined relief and worry suddenly coursing down her cheeks. "Listen to me," Connie said a little hoarsely, moving forward to enclose Jess in her arms. "All that matters now is that he's safe, and that he's back home with you, where he belongs." "He was on the roof, wasn't he," Jess said bleakly, looking up into Connie's tired face. "What makes you think that?" Connie asked her guardedly. "I'm not stupid, Connie," Jess told her firmly. "The hospital is the one thing that's always meant more to Zubin than anything else in his life, so it makes sense that he would go there if he wanted..." She stopped, unable to voice her fears of what might have been. "Zubin loves you," Connie told her with absolute certainty. "And he's feeling all the grief and self-blame that you are. What you both need to do is to talk to each other, no matter how hard that might be." Over Jess's shoulder, Connie caught sight of Ric standing in the doorway watching them. When he realised she'd seen him, Ric moved forward, laying a protective hand on Jess's shoulder. "Connie's right, you know," He told her gently. "You can let it all out by crying, but Zubin doesn't find it so easy to do that." "I wish he would," Jess replied, detaching herself from Connie. "Well, he did today," Connie said softly. "Which believe me, really is a good start."
When Ric and Connie left a little while later, Connie asked Ric if he would drive. "Are you all right?" He asked, seeing a very pinched expression on her face. "No, not really," She said dully, sliding into the passenger seat. "Don't worry, it'll pass." But Ric couldn't help but be concerned for her as they drove towards her house, observing from time to time that the colour had completely drained from her skin, and that she was biting furiously on her bottom lip. "You look as though you're about to throw up," Ric said eventually. "Just drive," Was Connie's curt response.
When they drew up in her driveway, Connie was out of the car and into the house quicker than Ric would have thought possible. As he locked the car door and followed her, he assumed that she was suffering a reaction from having talked Zubin down from where he'd undoubtedly been. As Connie ejected everything she had eaten that day, which admittedly was precious little, her body shook with the aftershock of having to fulfill such an enormous responsibility. She could easily have failed in her mission to talk Zubin down, and it was only by sheer luck that she had succeeded. He had undoubtedly been on a course for self-destruction that day, one that a few months ago, she wouldn't have been able to curtail. It was only by virtue of her and Zubin having abandoned hostilities since what had happened to her at Christmas, that he had allowed her to get so close to him. As she splashed her face with cold water, rinsing the taste of bile from her mouth, she felt the dull ache in her lower abdomen, the ache that signified that once again she had wasted one of her chances to become a mother. As she took a long, hot shower, to try and soothe her tired muscles, Zubin's words came back to her. He had expressed so much love for his dead son, and for his very young partner, love that Connie had always either denied to herself or to others. Would she have had so much unconditional love for her child if she had lived? She didn't know.
When Connie finally made her way downstairs, she found Ric in the lounge having stoked up the fire. He had made her a cup of tea that sat on the coffee table, and she picked it up as she sank gratefully into a corner of the sofa. "Was Zubin really up on the roof?" Ric surprised her by asking. "I heard Jess asking you," He added when she didn't immediately answer. "Yes, he was," She said regretfully, searching for her cigarettes which she realised were still in her jacket pocket. "I'll get them," Ric said as he got up, seeing a distinct lethargy in everything she was doing. "Thank you," She said when he returned with them, sitting down at the other end of the sofa, giving her the space she appeared to need. "How did you know that's where he would be?" "I used to go up there sometimes," She told him. "Before Christmas, and after." As she retrieved and lit a cigarette, taking a long and satisfied drag, he said, "It's very seductive up there, isn't it?" "Almost too seductive," She agreed quietly. Then, glancing at the glass of wine that he'd poured for himself, she said, "I'm glad you didn't pour me one of those. The way I feel right now, I'd probably drink the entire bottle."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, Ric just watching the maelstrom of expressions playing to and fro over her face. Something was going on in that head of hers, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. When she'd stubbed out her cigarette, Ric moved along the sofa and tried to put his arms round her. But holding up a hand, Connie stopped him in his tracks. This was an odd situation for her, because she wanted his comfort and yet didn't want it. "Connie, talk to me," He encouraged her gently. "I'm not sure that you'll really want to hear it," She said, turning her gaze away from him, for fear that the tide of tears would rise up and entirely envelop her. "Try me," Ric said softly, seeing the battle raging away in her eyes. "But it sounds so stupid," Connie told him helplessly, unable to prevent the tears from rising to her eyes. "Connie, after the day both of us have had, I doubt anything will sound stupid," He promised her firmly. Lighting another cigarette to put a flimsy barrier between Ric and her, she tried to explain what she was feeling. "When Zubin was sat up there today, telling me how much he'd loved his son, something I never thought Zubin would say to me of all people, I kept wondering if I would ever have felt the same for my daughter. I ignored her very existence for most of the time I was carrying her, and barely acknowledged either her birth or her death. Well, not outwardly anyway. Michael always wanted children, mainly to please his mother, but he did always want them. I said no every single time, and did everything possible to ensure that it didn't happen by accident. I just feel, I don't know, that I've wasted every opportunity I've had, to have the thing that Jess and Zubin, and you, felt so deeply. Zubin doesn't feel entirely whole without his son, and neither does Jess, you can see it in her. I deserved to lose my daughter, because I would be a pretty rotten mother now, never mind what I would have been at the age of sixteen, but Jess and Zubin didn't deserve any of this." Not entirely knowing where all this had come from, Ric again tried to put his arms round her. She allowed it this time, but he could still feel her reticence, still feel her inability to relax against him.
"One thing I will tell you," He said into her hair. "Is that nobody knows precisely how they will feel when they have a child, man or woman. You cannot force yourself to love your child, and yet you may find that there is part of you that would happily die for them. You have absolutely no idea what kind of mother you might have been, whether good, bad or indifferent. Connie, no matter what you did, you did not deserve what happened to you when you were sixteen, because nobody deserves something like that. You need to start believing that." When he kissed her, she would barely let him, even though his soft, full, gentle lips were what she wanted most in the world. "Is it what happened this afternoon that's brought this on?" He asked her gently. "Only partly," She said resignedly. "Then what?" "Much as it may be the one thing I need most in the world right now," She said with a mental shrug. "You can't make love to me, not for a few days anyway." "So?" He asked, understanding her euphemism, but wanting to know why that meant that he couldn't still hold her. "Michael barely used to want to touch me, never mind kiss me when I was like this," She explained, some residual anger about this briefly showing in her eyes. "And I, am not, Michael," Ric said slowly and deliberately. "So do not assume that I will react in the same way." "I know, I just, I'm not used to too much consideration on that particular point." "And after living with at least six women before you," Ric said with a sardonic smile. "I ought to be more of an expert on this than Owen Davis." Connie smiled, her first since she'd brought Zubin home. "That's better," Ric said, gently kissing her. "I want to see that smile more often. With the funeral tomorrow and Jess and Zubin both living on the edge, I'm going to need it."