They slept soundly for a couple of hours, both of them not having slept a great deal the night before. But when the ringing phone dragged Connie forcefully out of her slumber, she cleared her throat, in an attempt not to give away what she'd been doing. "Connie, its Tricia," Came the well-known voice over the wire. "We've got a pretty serious stabbing that's just come in, and your cover is still in theatre with the afternoon's list." "All right, I'm on my way," Connie replied as she got out of bed, putting on her clothes as Tricia filled in the details. "Tell theatre to be on standby," She told Tricia, at the same time frantically trying to work out how she could keep Ric safe in the meantime. When Tricia had disconnected, Ric yawned and looked over at her. "That sounded pretty serious," He said, his professional instinct kicking in. "It is," Connie said as she pulled a brush through her hair, "which is why Tricia called me. Ric, I need you to do something for me: I need you to promise not to try anything like you did this morning while I'm away." "All right," Ric said seriously, seeing that she wasn't going to settle for anything less. "I wasn't actually planning to, but if it makes you happier." "No, it doesn't really," Connie replied a little curtly, "but I don't appear to have any choice." Walking into the bathroom, she picked up the scalpel he had used and after wiping it clean, put it into the pocket of her skirt. This was a pretty pointless exercise, she thought to herself, because if he really was serious about it, he could just as easily use a carving knife from the kitchen. When she moved back into the bedroom, he got out of bed and put his arms round her. "I'll be all right, really." "Well, if you're lucky, I might just send an old friend to keep an eye on you." "I would really rather you didn't," He said carefully, wondering just what on earth she had in mind. "Tough," Connie told him with a kiss. "Because for the moment, I would prefer that you remain alive and well. Is that clear?" "Crystal," He said gloomily, watching her out of the bedroom window until she drove away.
The idea was somewhat novel, she thought as she moved through the interminable traffic, but it might just work. Diane Lloyd, whilst being one of the coldest people Connie had ever met, did in actual fact know Ric possibly a lot better than she did, which meant that Diane might have more success in getting through to him. On reaching the hospital, she walked straight up to Keller, and knocked on Diane's office door. Having been bidden to enter, Connie briefly wondered how on earth she was going to phrase this. "Connie," Diane said on seeing her. "Does your stabbing require my assistance?" "No, at least I don't think so," She said as she closed the door, giving them a modicum of privacy for this conversation. "But there is something I need you to do for me, something that I will very likely be begging you to do if you don't at first agree." "Would this involve Ric by any chance?" Diane asked, seeing a slightly wild, very worried look in Connie's eyes. "Yes," Connie replied without delay. "Not to put too fine a point on it, he gambled last night, and came home in the small hours feeling unbearably guilty." "So what's new?" Diane asked almost dismissively. "You ought to know as well as I do by now that he's always sorry about it afterwards." Wondering if Diane really had been a good idea, Connie continued. "Diane, I'm not asking for your judgement on his addiction, I'm asking for your help. I knew I shouldn't have left him alone this morning when I came to work, but I couldn't abandon my list just because of a feeling. However, when I went home at lunchtime, just to make sure he was all right, I found him carving patterns into his skin with my favourite scalpel." Diane just sat and stared at her in shock. "I take it that you haven't known him to do this before?" Connie asked, feeling that she might at last be getting somewhere. "No," Diane said in horror. "Never, not Ric." "Well, believe me," Connie said a little acidly. "He did this time. I've tried talking to him, after patching him up, but this stabbing, which will be dead on the table if I don't attend to him soon, has called me back to work." "What do you want me to do?" Diane asked, feeling more than a little out of her depth. "If you've only got paperwork to keep you occupied, I would very much appreciate it if you would go and see him, just while I'm here. I don't entirely trust him to be left on his own at the moment." "Okay," Diane said as she rose to her feet. "But he might not want to see me. I've not always been particularly sympathetic when he's gambled in the past." "He'll always want to see you, Diane," Connie said quietly, knowing that although Ric said he loved her, and there wasn't any doubt that he did, a part of him would always remain in love with Diane, no matter how much time passed without her. After giving Diane directions to her house, Connie rushed along to Darwin theatre, ready to drop straight back into her professional stance, not allowing any thought of Ric or his predicament to influence or disturb her practice of trying to save this man's life.
As Diane drove towards Connie's house on the outskirts of Holby, she tried to process all the information Connie had given her in that very short space of time. Why on earth had Ric started cutting? Or was it something he'd done before that she simply hadn't been aware of? When she arrived, pulling up in the broad sweep of gravel drive, her eyebrows soared. This really was how the other half lived. When Ric came to the door in answer to her ringing of the bell, Diane was forced to admit that he did look like he'd always done after a night of gambling. "Diane," He said when he saw her. "I've been asked to keep an eye on you until Connie gets home," Diane explained as she moved into the hall. "And now I can see why." "Coffee?" Ric asked as he moved towards the kitchen, clearly wanting to put off the coming conversation as long as possible. Following him into the stone-flagged room with its scrubbed wooden table, and windows looking out onto a large garden, Diane wondered just how she should go about getting him to talk about the cutting.
When they were seated in Connie's beautifully decorated sitting-room, both in opposite armchairs, Ric took the plunge. "So, just what did Connie tell you, to make you drive out here to see me?" "Well, she started off by telling me that you'd been gambling, which now I'm here I can see for myself. But then she told me something that I really wasn't expecting." After a short silence where neither of them spoke, Diane added, "So, is the cutting a new pastime, or is it something you've previously hidden?" "I didn't want her to tell you about that," Ric said miserably. "Why," Diane demanded sounding hurt. "Or would that require just a little too much honesty and explanation?" "It's complicated," Ric began tiredly. "And no, it's not something I've done before." "So why now?" Diane asked, determined to get at the real reason behind his actions. "When I came home last night," Ric told her tentatively. "I felt disgusted and guilty, and all the other things I usually feel after gambling, but this time, there was the added bit about how I feel for Connie, and as lame as it no doubt sounds, I was terrified of disappointing her. I expected her to either give me a verbal roasting or the proverbial cold shoulder, but she didn't do either. She acted perfectly normally, as though I hadn't done something that most people would back away from as quickly as possible, and for which I certainly wouldn't have blamed her. The only way I can explain it, is that for the first time in my life, I've found someone who appears to understand why I do it, and you've got no idea just how precious that is."