Part One Hundred And Forty Seven
As John rode in the lift up to the fifth floor and Keller ward, he couldn't help but wonder if he was really doing the right thing. He had called Ric that morning on Helen's advice of yesterday, and asked if Ric had time to see him, to which Ric had said yes, suggesting that John call in at lunchtime. Ric hadn't asked why John wanted to see him, which now John came to think about it was a little odd, perhaps suggesting that he at least partially guessed the reason. Would Ric think him stupid for having the concerns that he did? John sincerely hoped not. His worries over his reactions at seeing George's scar might seem pointless and insignificant to most people, but to him they seemed like enormous bridges that he just didn't know how to cross. So, now here he was, entering this highly charged atmosphere, all in an attempt to seek the professional advice of a man far busier than himself. Whether it was the right or the wrong course of action, he would very soon find out.
When he emerged into the hustle and bustle of the space between Keller and Darwin, he walked towards the nurses' station, seeing there someone he knew. Connie was arguing with a man who had the archetypal Eton look about him, with dark hair and a gaunt face, and who was currently very angry with the woman before him. "Mr. Justice Deed," Connie said as she turned to face him, having caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. "Mrs. Beauchamp," he replied, walking up to her. "Please could you tell me where I might find Mr. Griffin's office?" "Of course," She said, leaving Will in mid strop. "If you'd like to follow me this way," She said with a smile, leading the way down the corridor into Keller territory. "Here for anything special?" Connie asked without thinking. "I'm sorry," She said, her face reddening slightly. "That was unspeakably rude of me." "Just a little advice, that's all," John said, trying to put her at her ease. "John," Connie said as she laid a hand on his arm, temporarily stopping him in his tracks. "The next few months aren't exactly going to be very easy for you." "And they're hardly going to be very easy for George," He countered back. "I know," Connie replied, trying to remain calm under John's obviously volatile emotions. "But if you should ever need someone to listen, you know where to find me. All right?" "Thank you," He said, laying a hand over hers where it still rested on his arm. "That offer is very much appreciated."
Knocking on Ric's office door, Connie opened it before Ric could tell her to do so. "A visitor for you, Mr. Griffin," She said with a smile, holding the door open for John to enter. Ric was sitting behind his desk, sorting through patient records and eating a sandwich. "Judge, come in," He said, pushing the remains of his sandwich away from him. As Connie closed the door, leaving them to it, John's nerve almost failed him. "Sit down," Ric invited, gesturing to the slightly battered sofa. "Would you like some coffee?" Agreeing that he would, John took the offered seat. Putting his head out of his office door, Ric called to Donna to please make two coffees and bring them to his office. When she did, pushing the door open with a foot and putting the two mugs down on his cluttered desk, she said, "It's about time you got yourself a PA." "Tell that to Connie," Ric told her. "She's the one who controls the budget around here." "I think I'll leave her to you, if you don't mind," Donna said hurriedly as she backed out of the office, closing the door behind her.
"So," Ric said, taking a swig of the scalding hot coffee. "What can I do for you?" "I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time," John replied, realising that he was stalling. "No, of course not," Ric tried to reassure him, seeing that John was finding this extremely difficult. "Am I to assume that this is about George?" "Yes," John said with a heavy sigh. "And part of me feels as though I'm betraying her trust in even being here." "Where George's breast cancer is concerned, there isn't anything I don't know, so you aren't breaking any trust," Ric said quietly. "I also might have more of an idea than you think about why you're here." "George originally chose to conceal the existence of her lump from me, because she was terrified of how she would look after any possible surgery, and how her physical attractiveness, or lack of it, would reflect on the relationship I have with her. I am not known for my ability to be faithful to both George and Jo, and George thinks that as soon as I see what she now looks like, I will have even more cause to stray." "With the likes of Connie for instance?" Ric put in quietly, just to see what reaction he would get from this man. "Did Connie tell you about that?" John asked in mild surprise. "She felt incredibly guilty," Ric told him. "She wasn't the only one," John confessed regretfully. "But Connie isn't the issue at hand. George won't allow me to see her scar, because she is still terrified of my possible reaction. Not having the faintest idea of how I will react, I don't know how to reassure her that no matter what she looks like, I will always love her."
"What George has been left with," Ric began carefully. "Is a flat expanse of chest, where her left breast used to be. She also has a scar, running diagonally across this portion of chest from here," He put his finger in the centre of his chest. "To under her arm. Even though I do say it myself, it is a very neat scar, and will fade with time. You may initially find it a somewhat unusual sight to behold, because nothing can be more obviously missing than one of a pair of breasts. If you love her as much as I think you do, then you are extremely unlikely to find it anywhere near as disturbing as George seems to assume you will. I appreciate that this may not have been entirely helpful, but I'm not sure what else I can tell you." "It has helped," John assured him. "Because I do now have some idea of what she's determined to hide from me." "As to how successful you may be in convincing George that you do still love her, and that you do still want to make love to her, I couldn't possibly comment." "I can but try," John said somewhat ruefully.
After a slightly thoughtful silence, Ric raised an entirely different subject. "I had dinner with Karen on Saturday night," He told John. "And managed to catch up on a potted version of the last fifteen years of her history." "That was ambitious for one evening," John commented dryly. "How well did you know her all those years ago?" "Far too well," Ric admitted with a rueful smile. "She was only twenty when I first met her, and Ross was just two. I was a general surgical registrar in those days, and Karen worked with me for the better part of six years. If anyone could keep their head in a crisis it was always Karen. She eventually left nursing to follow in the steps of a prison officer called Steve, and I didn't hear a word either from or about her until she turned up at the Hadlington with George the other week." "So it wasn't James Fenner who lured her away from nursing then?" John asked a little darkly. "No, and yes, she did tell me about him, and about all the strife he managed to cause both before and after his death." "I've occasionally found myself wondering how she's managed to keep on going," John said sadly. "Especially since Ross died last year." "My eldest son Leo, he got into drugs, but I managed to get him back on the straight and narrow," Ric said, finding it so easy to share confidences with this man who probably knew far more than he now did about his old lover and friend. "And Karen would have tried to do the same for Ross, except for the fact that he insisted that she shouldn't be told about his condition," John filled in. "So, she had no idea until he was dead." "For those six years that she was working for me," Ric continued thoughtfully. "Her entire life was centred around her son, with the exception of the occasional tryst with one of her colleagues, every thought and every action went into that child's welfare."
When they'd been talking for a good half an hour, there came the sound of running feet along the corridor, followed by the thrusting open of Ric's office door. It was Diane, looking slightly dishevelled and out of breath. "Ric," She said, skidding to a stop in front of his desk. "We've got an RTA on the way up from the ED, with a massive abdominal trauma, possibly involving liver, spleen, and god knows what else. It's way too complex for me and Jac to attempt on our own." "And where is Mr. Jordan?" Ric asked. "He's at the new keyhole procedure conference in Manchester, remember?" "Ah yes, I'd forgotten he'd gone up there for the day. Go and join Jac and get this boy racer patient of ours anaesthetised and opened up and I'll be with you in a minute." "Actually," Diane put in as she moved to the door. "It's a woman, so less of the boy racer quips, please." Then, seeing John, she said, "Sorry for disturbing you." "Oh, don't mind me," John replied with a smile. When Diane had gone, Ric said, "I'll have to go, but I hope I've been able to be of some help to you." "Yes, and thank you," John assured him. "What I suggest you do," Ric said with a last minute thought. "Is to try and make her feel as wanted and aroused as possible. You never know your luck."