Part One Hundred And Twenty Eight
When Ric awoke on the Thursday morning, Connie's soft, warm body was still nestling up against him, though she had turned over in her sleep and was now lying with her back to him. His arm rested over her waist, with his hand gently cupping her right breast. He could hear her deep, regular breathing, and as he glanced over at the bedside clock, he saw that they had at least an hour before the alarm was due to interrupt their slumber. As his hand softly stroked Connie's breast, she drifted languidly into consciousness. "Good morning," She said, in a much deeper, slightly husky voice that was partially due to sleep, and the dope of the evening before. "I didn't mean to wake you," Ric said apologetically, making to remove his hand from her breast. "Oh, be my guest," Connie said with a smile in her voice, covering his hand with hers and imprisoning it against her skin. As he continued caressing her softness, Connie stretched languorously, turning over to face him in the process. "This really is a most agreeable way to be woken up," She said before kissing him. Their kisses were gentle and lingering, not the almost feverish exploration of the night before. Ric privately agreed with her assessment of the situation, it having been years since he'd woken up with a beautiful woman in his arms. As their touching took its inevitable path, Connie discovered his quite obvious reaction to her proximity. "Nice to find a man to be quite so responsive," She commented, whilst tenderly massaging his erection. "Connie, you far too often give me that reaction, even when you're shouting," He told her between kisses. "I do not, shout, Mr. Griffin," Connie said firmly. "I merely instruct." "Tell that to Will Curtis," Ric said dryly. "Mr. Curtis just needs to learn a little professional respect, that's all, and discussion of the many and varied annoyances of said Mr. Curtis, is hardly conducive to sexual satisfaction, now is it." "Oh, and I thought that power was your interminable aphrodisiac," He said, his hand slipping between her slightly spread legs, discovering to his delight just how aroused she already was. "It has been known," She said with a smile, but then abandoned all coherent thought as his fingers moved on and inside her. "Now I know where all that surgical skill comes from," She said a little breathlessly, gently cupping his testicles in her hand. When their bodies eventually joined, their male and female parts fitting in perfect synchrony, they rocked gently to and fro, their arms around each other as they lay on their sides. Early mornings were meant for this long, slow, incredibly gentle form of lovemaking, designed to reawaken the senses, in preparation for the new day ahead.
After their conjoined climax, Connie had drifted back to sleep, as Ric lay and simply revelled in the soft warmth emanating from her. He could get used to this, he realised with a start, used to waking up with a beautiful woman, and used to going to sleep with her too. But becoming emotionally attached to Connie wouldn't do him or her any good whatsoever. However, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to at the very least begin to build some sort of friendship with her. Slipping quietly out of bed, he pulled on his boxer shorts, and made his way downstairs to make them both a cup of tea. He hadn't seen the kitchen the night before, but he was pleasantly surprised at the warm, natural look of it, as though Connie did on occasions really enjoy working in it, creating food with the same level of skill as she exhibited with everything else she did with her hands. Having brewed two steaming mugs of tea, he went back upstairs, to see that Connie was half-awake, her eyes staring blearily up at him. "Keep doing things like that," She said, sitting up and taking one of the mugs from him. "And you can stay as often as you like." "Thank you for the compliment," Ric said dryly, sliding back under the duvet and taking a swig from his own mug. Laying a hand briefly on his thigh, she said, "Thank you," Which surprised him. "What for?" He couldn't help but ask. Connie shrugged. "The tea, last night, making me feel more alive than I have in a long time, I'm not sure." "My pleasure," He said sincerely, resting a hand over hers. As Ric took a long, hot shower, Connie relaxed, the extra few minutes in bed providing her with a rarely attained luxury. But when he emerged and began to dress, she dragged herself reluctantly from beneath the goose-feather duvet. "I take it that mornings are not your preferred time of the day," Ric observed dryly, taking in her deliciously proportioned form as she stretched with all the grace and agility of a cat. "No," She said with a yawn. "Though this morning did prove to be the exception," She added, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as she passed. "If you're hungry," She said as she went into the bathroom. "Help yourself to whatever you can find." Taking her at her word, Ric went downstairs and made himself some toast and coffee, listening to the sounds she made as she went through her usual morning routine. The sun rose as he sat eating at the kitchen table, and he looked out of the window to find a long and spacious garden, complete with a swimming-pool, which no doubt accounted for Connie's exquisitely toned body. When she appeared, she was again clad in her usual professional garb, with make up applied and hair washed and brushed. As he handed her a mug of coffee, he caught the waft of her usual perfume, combined with the fresh aromas of soap and shampoo. Her teeth were gleaming, and she looked perfect in every respect. As she peeled and ate a banana, she leaned against the kitchen unit, smirking at the way his eyes widened at the blatantly sexual way she consumed the fruit. "What do you have planned for this morning?" She asked, dropping the banana skin into the kitchen bin. "Check in on my patients at the Hadlington," He said, referring to the private hospital where George was currently housed. "And then I have a full afternoon's list at St. Mary's." "Then would you like a lift to work?" She asked. "As I have an outpatient clinic at the Hadlington this morning, and I wouldn't mind being with you when you check in on George Channing." Agreeing that he would like a lift to work, Ric asked if they could make a detour to his flat on the way, so that he could exchange his clothes for fresh ones.
When they arrived at the hospital, it was nearing nine o'clock, and the new professional day was beginning with full force. Making their way towards George's room, both Ric and Connie were wondering how she was about to react to her presence. Yesterday, George had ignored Ric and shouted at Connie, so anything was possible. But when they pushed open the door to her room, George looked up with a smile. "You're looking happier this morning," Ric commented as he moved towards the bed, knowing that he was about to shatter this in pretty short order. "I owe you an apology for yesterday, both of you," She said, looking between them as she spoke. "No, you don't," Ric and Connie said simultaneously, both slightly smiling at how they'd spoken in tandem. "George, everyone deals with this type of disaster in very different ways," Connie tried to explain to her, moving to the other side of the bed. "Mr. Griffin is, I'm sure, very used to the silent treatment by now, and I did after all come looking for the verbal dressing down I received from you. So, no apologies are necessary." "What I do need to do, however," Ric told her, knowing that all her barriers were about to go right back up. "Is to look at your wound again. Do you have any objections?" "Would it make the slightest difference if I said yes, I have all the objections you could possibly think of?" George replied bitterly. "No, I'm afraid it wouldn't," Ric told her regretfully, knowing that this was something he had to do today. "Well then, why ask?" George demanded acidly. "Its not as though pointless civility is going to get either of us very far, is it." Taking George's right hand gently between her own, Connie said, "Try to calm down, because the higher your blood pressure goes, the longer you will be staying here." As Ric carefully drew back the bedclothes, and moved aside the edge of George's hospital gown, George visibly cringed, turning her face away from him, only to meet Connie's gentle gaze. But as Ric removed the dressing and padding covering the place where George's left breast had once been, George reflexively moved her left arm to cover the part of her body she now loathed. "I don't want you to see it," She said, looking straight at Connie. They could both see the tears in George's eyes, and Ric now all too clearly understood what Connie had said last night. She had told him that George had reacted to her because she was an entirely whole, very complete woman, and George's fear of Connie's seeing how ugly she now may look was proof enough that Connie had been right. "Sweetheart," Connie said, sounding gentler and more remorseful than Ric had ever heard her. "I already have seen it, when you were in theatre." "I don't care," George replied helplessly, the tears now running down her face. "You're so beautiful, and I…" She stopped, as yet unable to put how she felt into words. Sitting down in the chair beside George's bed and still holding her hand, Connie strove to reassure her. "George, look at me," She commanded her gently. When George's fear filled eyes raised to meet hers, Connie continued. "See, I'm not looking at you, at least not at the bit of you that you would rather I avoid. Mr. Griffin is quite capable of seeing to his own handiwork. So, why don't you tell me what you're most afraid of? Mr. Griffin has always claimed not to be an expert in matters of the heart, but between you and me, he's had enough marriages to be given the title of Professor in the subject." "Oh, thanks," Ric commented dryly which brought a slight watery smile to George's face. "I just can't help thinking how, ugly, John will find me after this," George admitted, reaching for a tissue to dry her eyes. "You don't know that he will," Ric told her reasonably, as he cleaned and began to redress the wound, and realising that they were clearly talking about the Judge. "Connie, that day I caught you with John, I got to see precisely what John finds desirable these days, in every minute detail. Let's face it, Ric," She said, turning her gaze up to his. "Knowing Mrs. Beauchamp as intimately as you do, you can't exactly disagree with the fact that her body is far more appealing than mine is ever likely to be after this, now can you." Stopping in his tracks, momentarily stunned by her question, Ric's eyes strayed to Connie. "How on earth do you know about that?" He said, his eyes moving back to George's face. "Mr. Griffin, information that I may receive that allows me to ruthlessly browbeat any witness who did without doubt incur my extreme displeasure, comes from a source that must of course remain entirely confidential." "Ah, that reminds me," Connie said a little evilly. "I haven't yet suitably punished Mr. Curtis for that little indiscretion." "Will Curtis," Ric said thoughtfully. "Well, that's the last time I defend his professional honour. But to answer your question," He continued, his gaze softening as it met George's troubled one. "I'm not going to give you any false reassurances, because I am not in a position to do so. But what I will suggest, is that you do at least give the Judge a chance. You have no idea how he is going to react, never mind how you yourself will react the first time you look in a mirror. So the best advice I can give you, is not to worry about crossing a bridge before you come to it."
As Ric moved her gown and the bedclothes back into place, the door opened to reveal Tricia. "Ric," She said without preamble. "Diane needs you back at St. Mary's. She's got an emergency that requires your attention." "Oh, great," Ric muttered darkly, and then looked over at Connie with a thoughtful look on his face. "You have an outpatient clinic here this morning, don't you," He said, and she thought she could see what was coming. "You know I do,." She replied with a suspicious look at him. "Please can I borrow your car?" He asked, proving her suspicion absolutely right. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency," He continued under her steely gaze. "Because I know that you wouldn't usually lend me your car in a million years." The expression on his face was beseeching her to give in, his eyes reminding her of how good he had been to her last night and this morning. "Oh, all right," She said, capitulating with a hardly graceful acceptance of the situation. Digging in her jacket pocket, she handed over her keys with a dire warning. "Crash it, sell it, or damage it in any way, and your testicles will be removed without an anaesthetic and donated for medical research. Is that understood?" "Perfectly," Ric said with a slight shudder, taking the keys and walking towards the door. "I'll leave the keys in your office." "You do that," She called as he exited the room. When he had gone, George asked with a smirk, "Do you always follow up on your threats?" "Every time," Connie told her firmly. "Though that particular threat hasn't ever had to be fulfilled, but I suppose there's time." "Maybe that was where I went wrong," George said speculatively, and at Connie's raised eyebrow she continued. "When I was married to John, something else you didn't know, I never once threatened to leave him when I found out about his flings. I put up with them time and time again, well, until Jo. Maybe if I had threatened to leave him, he would have stopped, but I doubt it. If I wasn't enough for him in the first place, then my threatening to leave him would hardly have curbed his wandering." "I didn't know you two had been married," Connie said thoughtfully. "Yes, for nine not so happy years. The first two were wonderful, but after our daughter arrived, everything changed, and I couldn't keep him happy any more." "Why?" Connie asked, but her question seemed to bring George to her senses. "I've already told you far too much about that," She replied, removing her hand from Connie's and attempting to put some distance between them. "All right," Connie said, trying to calm George's shattered nerves. "But you have given me a puzzle to solve." "Don't try and work it out," George told her seriously. "Because you might not like what you find."
About an hour after Connie had left to begin her outpatient clinic, John appeared. "You're looking a bit better," He said, bending to kiss her. "Sorry I was so uncommunicative yesterday," She said, kissing him back. "Oh, that's all right," John said as he sat down. "I was worried about you, that's all." "John," George said carefully. "There's something I need you to do for me. I hate to have to ask you to do it, but I think that Charlie will take the news far better coming from you than she would from me." "Yes," John said a little heavily. "I was wondering when I should tell her." "Please could you try and do it some time before I come home?" "No time like the present," John replied, gathering all his inner strength for the task ahead. "I'll do it today. What about your father?" "John, I can ask you to inform Charlie, but I can't ask you to tell Daddy as well." "And you're in no fit state to do it yourself," John told her, gently stroking her cheek as he did so. "There's very little I can really do to make all this easier for you, but telling your father is something I can do and will do. It is something I will find extremely difficult, but you would currently find it harder still." "I'm sorry," George said in a slightly hoarse voice, inwardly cursing the tears that threatened to yet again spill over. "What for?" John asked in slight astonishment. "For everything," She replied, her voice full of self-loathing. "For this, for keeping it from you, for giving you the highly disagreeable task of telling my father and Charlie, for being wholly unable to do anything but cry, for…" But John had gently laid a finger across her lips, cutting off her protestations. "George, none of this is your fault," He tried to convince her. "Yes, I wish that you had told me, and that you had done something about this sooner, but that's a conversation we will have when you are somewhat stronger. As for the rest of it, no one can help getting cancer, and if putting Charlie and your father in the picture is the one thing I can do to help you through it, then that is what I will do. As for your not being able to stop crying, that is a perfectly natural reaction to everything that's happened this week. You've been keeping this to yourself for such a long time, that the stress had built up and up, and only now are you beginning to release it." "I know," She said miserably. "I just hate the uselessness of it, that's all." "George, you were depressed before you found that lump, and that has only intensified how low you already were, so don't continue to beat yourself up about it."
At around twelve thirty when Connie had finished her outpatient clinic, she stood at the desk, updating various patient files, whilst Tricia tried in vain to summon a cab for her. "God knows what's got everyone so busy on a Thursday lunchtime," Tricia said as she put the phone down for what felt like the hundredth time. "They're probably all trying to get somewhere like me," Connie replied disgustedly. As he left George's room, on his way to find Charlie, John heard this exchange, and as he approached Connie from behind, her stance reminded him fleetingly of both an irritated George and an obstinate Charlie. Walking up to her, he laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "Before you stamp your foot in outrage, just as my daughter used to do when she was five, would you like a lift?" Turning her fiery eyes on him, Connie couldn't help but smile at the picture he had just painted. "Yes, thank you, I would, if it isn't too much out of your way." "Are you trying to get to St. Mary's?" "Yes," Connie said, the stress gradually leaving her. "I have a triple bypass booked for one o'clock, and this particular patient won't be very amused if I'm late." "Then allow me," John said, his usual suave sophistication slipping back into place. "That is the last time I lend Ric Griffin my car," She said as they walked down the stairs and towards the outside. "Did you owe him a favour?" John asked as they moved out into the car park and towards his car. "Yes, in a manner of speaking," Connie replied, smirking at the relaxation Ric had provided the night before, and thinking that she probably owed him the loan of her car ten times over for that particular favour.