She closed the boot of her car. She'd just returned from her house calls. Gordon's car sat beside her own, meaning he was safe in the hospital. She smiled softly to herself, the memories of the previous evening still fresh in her mind. She made her way to the pavement outside the hospital. "Oh hello Mrs Holden." One of her regular patients paused beside her.
"Oh doctor, I'm so sorry. I heard this morning. Terrible news."
"Wh-" Jill began, confused only to be cut off.
"I would stop but I'm on my way to see my nephew. You take care doctor." With a sympathetic gaze, she was off.
"Hang on. Mrs Holden!" Jill called, but her patient had already rounded the corner. She shook her head. She must have her wires crossed, Jill thought. The incident was pushed to the back of her mind as she entered reception to be greeted by a cheerful Lizzie. She smiled and rounded reception, glad the receptionist looked much happier. She passed Alun on the way, seated at the table, engrossed in the newspaper.
Ken entered just as she'd started filing the patient notes from her housecalls. He leant over Alun's shoulder to peer at the paper. "Death notices! Alun that's morbid!"
"But I'm bored." Alun moaned.
"Bored! What have I told you? Never say you're bored, someone will give you some't to do."
"Fine." Alun sighed, immediately turning his attention back to his newspaper.
"Hey, and don't go getting comfy again, I've got a job for you do to."
Alun sighed again and made to get up, but paused, hovering over his seat, his attention fixed on the newspaper. "Erm, Ken."
"What?" The older porter stepped back into reception.
"I think you should read this."
"No way am I reading that thing. I told you, it's morbid."
"No, really... I think you should."
Something in Alun's tone must have convinced him, for Ken came over and followed the finger pointed at the page. Jill glanced up again, just in time to see the colour drain from Ken's face, his expression of shock matching Alun's, before they both turned to her. "Doctor Weatherill..."
Gordon looked up from his paperwork as a sharp rapping was heard on his door. "Come in." He called, and immediately Alun and Staff Nurse Taylor burst in.
"Doctor Ormerod." She began. "You'd better come, it's Doctor Weatherill."
He shot to his feet, fear seizing him at their tone. "What about her? Where is she?"
"In her office." Alun provided, both of them following Gordon as he walked past them.
They had only taken a step into the corridor when a patient walked into their path. On seeing them, she stopped short, screamed and dropped her bags.
"Are you okay?" Gordon asked, looking in concern at the pale form in staring at him.
"I'll deal with her." Meryl cut in, ushering Gordon out the way. "You see to your wife."
Gordon glanced back once in confusion before striding the short distance to the white door bearing Jill's brass name plaque. Ken stepped up to him, holding out the local paper, open on the death notices. He followed where Ken was pointing, reading the small paragraph, a cold feeling sweeping through him.
Dr Gordon Ormerod.
Beloved son, husband and father.
A friend to all who knew him and a treasured doctor.
May he rest in peace.
He had to read the words many times to be sure they were right, to be sure it was actually his name. He shivered, the feeling at reading his own death notification indescribable.
"I showed it to Doctor Weatherill. She started shaking and then she ran to her office. I never imagined she'd react like that. Sorry doctor."
"It's alright Ken." Gordon replied somewhat absent mindedly, fighting to regain his composure. "You weren't to know." He took another moment to collect himself then knocked on the varnished wood of his wife's door. "Jill love, it's me, can I come in?" After hearing a reply, he entered and closed the door behind him.
Jill turned to face him, perching on the edge of her desk. Her face, a picture of sadness and worry, held the signs of recent tears. "I'm sorry Gordon. It's just, in the paper-"
"I know." He cut her off gently. "Ken told me." He walked towards her quickly as a tear slipped down her cheek. Before she had chance to wipe it away herself, his hand was there, gently capturing the moisture before it travelled further. Though no more tears were imminent, he kept his hand to her cheek, tenderly stroking the soft skin. Being perched on her desk knocked a couple of inches from her height, allowing to to gaze up at him, her eyes holding such trust and love.
"Are you free for lunch?" She asked softly, not wanting to break the quiet closeness they shared.
He nodded. "I'm ready now if you want to get out of here for a while."
"Please." She rose, regretfully breaking the contact between them, brushing past him, and taking her coat and bag from the stand by the door.
"I'm sorry doctor." Ken started as soon as they stepped out into the corridor.
"It's alright." She replied, laying her hand briefly on the porter's arm. "I'm glad you told me."
