Part One Hundred And Seventy Five
It was the first of June, and Connie had got up that morning feeling that all was right with the world. Yes, she had a difficult job, but it was the job she'd always wanted. Yes, she also had a husband who didn't really seem to care for her any more, but that was just one of life's crosses that she currently had to bear. But she found that appearances can be deceptive. Her day had managed to go from bad to worse. First there was the child who had been involved in a car crash and who she had been unable to save. It always hurt Connie deeply when she failed to save a child's life, the grief of any relatives always being far more poignant than with the death of a fellow adult. Then there had been the young woman to whom she had been forced to break the news that there was nothing more she could do for her. But that was nothing to what happened in the late afternoon. One of Connie's long-timers had been brought in with severe breathing difficulties. This woman had known Connie since she was a registrar, and Connie felt as though she had been trying to perform miracles on her ever since. Connie's absolute last resort was to surgically fit a Left Ventricular Assist Device, whilst the woman who was only in her early thirties waited for a heart and lung transplant. But then the unthinkable had happened, that worst of all horrific circumstances had occurred after the Assist Device had been successfully fitted. No surgeon likes to realise that after all their hard work, the patient has suffered a massive stroke and can no longer lead the fulfilling and active life that they did before. But with a patient whom Connie had known for quite so long, through her rise to consultant and then to Medical director of St. Mary's, it was doubly traumatic. Connie had to break the news to the woman's family that whilst she might still be technically alive, it was very unlikely that she would recover.
As Connie left the side room and closed the door behind her, she wanted nothing more than to slink away somewhere to cry. She could feel the weight of all she had gone through that day pressing on her chest like a heavy bolder of nothing but bitterness and regret. "I did tell you it would be an enormous risk," Came the voice she'd dreaded. Will walked beside her, obviously determined to make her feel even more of a failure than she already did. Trying to ignore him, she strode purposefully towards her office. "Connie, are you listening to me?" He persisted as he followed her. Swinging round on him in rising fury, she said, "Don't you dare say I told you so." "But I did," Will replied, obviously trying to gode her and taking absolutely no heed of the far too clear warning signs. "I have had just about enough of the whole entire world and everybody in it, especially you," Connie bit out, the tears rising to her eyes. "So if you want to keep your job, stay away from me for the rest of the day." As she changed direction and strode hurriedly towards the lift, she heard Ric calling to her. He had been approaching the nurses' station from the direction of his office, and had witnessed the entire scene. Turning her furious yet tearful gaze on him, Connie said, "Mr. Curtis seems to have all the answers today, so ask him." Then, as the lift seemed to be taking an eternity to arrive, she pushed open the door to the stairs, taking them two at a time as she fled upwards. Only once she was out on the flat roof of the eighth floor did she feel she could relax. She didn't think that anyone would seek her company up here, which meant that she could finally give way.
"What was all that about?" Ric asked as he walked towards Will. "You know Connie," will said ruefully. "She always knows best. I told her that using an Assist Device on that patient only had an outside chance of working but would she listen?" "Sometimes outside chances give the best results," Ric told him seriously. "Yeah, well, no offence, but I'd expect that from an ex-gambler," Will said dismissively. "And just why do you think Connie does take every possible opportunity with a patient?" "Because she loves being right?" Will suggested. "No," Ric said, trying to keep his anger in check. "Because Connie will always go that extra mile for a patient if she thinks that what she's doing has the slightest possibility of being a success." "Well, this time it caused the patient to have a massive stroke," Will replied disgustedly. "That's hardly successful." "The point is," Ric persisted. "That she never gives up, no matter how small the chance of success may be. That's a virtue that someone who hopes to be a consultant one day ought to learn, and fast." Turning on his heel, he walked away, taking the lift up to the eight floor. He had seen Connie running up the stairs, and now thought he knew where she would have gone.
Connie was there where he'd thought she would be, huddled against the side of the building and clearly crying, though still trying to restrain herself even though she was far away from anyone. Walking quietly over to her, he turned Connie to face him and put his arms round her. She didn't have to look up to know who it was, because she would recognise those arms and that comforting presence anywhere. She clung to him as the sobs wracked her body, seeming totally unable to hold back any longer. He rubbed gentle circles on her back, privately thinking that this really was Connie without her usual barriers, revealed to him in all the vulnerability that she nearly always strove to hide.
"I'm sorry," She said, eventually detaching herself from him and retrieving a tissue from her pocket. "No need," he told her gently. "I've got mascara on your shirt," She said, briefly laying her hand against his chest. "It doesn't matter," he said, pushing a strand of hair back from her face. "I don't suppose you have any cigarettes on you, do you?" "I don't go anywhere without them at the moment," He said, retrieving them from his trouser pocket and handing them over together with his lighter. "Something else for Will to hold against me," She said as she lit one. "The list just seems to be growing longer and longer. Did he tell you what happened?" "Yes. I'm sorry." "I suppose I should have known that or something like it would happen one day. But when you've been looking after someone for the best part of ten years, you don't expect everything to suddenly go wrong at a moment's notice." "You must have got to know her very well in all that time." "I did," Connie replied on an exhalation of smoke. "When I moved hospitals, so did she." They were quiet for a time as Connie smoked, until she broke the silence with, "Thank you for coming up here." "You've stolen my hiding place," he said with a smile, trying to put her at her ease, as she looked sincerely uncomfortable at his having seen her in such a vulnerable position. "Who said it was yours?" she demanded in mock outrage, making him smile. "I've been coming up here for years, any time that it's all become a bit too much." "Are you willing to share?" She asked, the flirtatious enquiry seeming to hold far more depth than it warranted. "Of course," He said, hearing a thousand other questions in her voice and wanting to answer them all. Ditching her cigarette end over the edge of the roof, Connie said, "God, I could do with a joint." "Not while you still feel so miserable," he told her seriously, putting out his arms to again enclose her in a hug. "Yes, I know," She said almost wearily. "It's a nice thought though."
When she kissed him, he could taste the cigarette she'd just smoked, it somehow making her more human. Their kiss was soft, gentle and lingering, with the passion always there just below the surface, but which was currently in abeyance. "Are you all right now?" Ric asked when they came up for air. "Not really," Connie replied with a shrug. "But I will be." "Is Michael in residence this evening?" Ric asked, an idea forming in his head. "No, thank god," Connie said in obvious relief. "If there's one person I can really do without tonight, it's Michael." "Then would you like me to cook you dinner?" Connie spent a moment or two mulling this one over. "That would be wonderful," She said a little guardedly. "What's stopping you from saying yes?" He asked, not sure where her problem lay. Looking slightly away from him, she said, "I can't sleep with you, not this week anyway." "Connie," He said in slight exasperation. "That isn't the only reason why I like spending time with you." "Why else would you want to spend time with me?" She asked with such open and honest eyes, that he knew this was no fishing for a compliment. "You really have no idea, do you," he said in utter astonishment. "No," She replied a little caustically. "That's why I asked." "Connie," He said with his face entirely devoid of humour. "I enjoy spending time with you, because you are incredibly beautiful, because you fascinate me on an intellectual level, and because you make me laugh." Staring at him wide-eyed, Connie tried to take in what he was saying. Ric was utterly genuine in the things he'd just told her, when he knew that tonight at least he wasn't going to get any pleasure in return. "Thank you," she said, a little stunned by his words. "In that case, I accept your offer to cook me dinner, as I am intrigued to observe one of your talents that I haven't yet encountered." As they walked down from the roof back to the ward so that Connie could collect her handbag, Ric's words kept resonating in her mind, making her wonder at his total honesty. Did he really mean what he'd said, or was he just hoping for a continuation of their sexual exploration of each other, even though she had told him that for at least the next few days it definitely wouldn't be on the cards? She didn't entirely understand genuine compliments, as they weren't something she'd very often had. Being married to someone like Michael did tend to shatter any belief one had in oneself, right from the word go. Michael was the one who had to be held up by false words and platitudes, half the time to keep him in a good temper. But Ric was different. He appeared to genuinely care about her, something Connie had neither expected nor gone looking for from anyone since she'd married Michael. Perhaps it was time for her to begin acknowledging that someone did have real, sincere feelings for her. But where did that leave her own feelings, both for Ric and for her failed marriage?