Gordon sat at his desk. It was his lunch break, but he was currently trying to write up patient notes, his lunch sat in front of him untouched. However, he wasn't getting very far. His mind kept drifting, mostly to the events of the previous day. He remembered the lunchtime he'd spent with Jill. They'd gone to a bakery, brought some sandwiches, and as they came out, Jill saw Alex Heath across the road lifting heavy boxes, no sign of any back pain. She went over and gave him one of her lectures, which Gordon found very amusing and proceeded to tease her about as they walked to the seafront. Their conversation had quickly moved onto a different topic and they spent an enjoyable lunch together. Neither thought it anything more than a case of hypochondria, neither had foreseen the way the day was to pan out.
Gordon sighed and placed down his pen, resigning himself to the fact he wasn't going to get far with the notes. He picked up a sandwich, but placed that back down too, not feeling hungry.
He knew Jill's apologies that morning were more than the fact she'd snapped at him. She was tearing herself apart about the day before, and he was at a loss as how he could help her.
Before he could think about it anymore, someone knocked on his door. He sighed and called for whoever it was to enter, though really wishing he could tell them to go away, not really in the mood for any company.
It was Matron who entered, and closed the door behind her, before moving to seat herself in front of Gordon's desk. He watched her quizzically; this was not normal behaviour for Matron. Normally she would have said what she needed to and left.
"Doctor Ormerod..." She began, her voice softer than the one he usually heard. "Gordon, I don't want to pry, but I came to see how you are."
"Erm... I'm fine..." He responded, not expecting that.
"Only Doctor Weatherill told me what happened yesterday. Well, most of it, I had a feeling there were some things she didn't want to divulge." She paused and fixed her steady gaze on Gordon, and he glanced away, a strange feeling creeping upon him that she could read him. "I know it must have been very hard on you both. How are you both?"
The direct question carried more than her previous remark. That, combined with her penetrating stare made him uncomfortable in giving his response, which was, ultimately, a lie. "Honestly, Matron, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. And Jill... she's fine." It was the answer Jill would have wanted him to give, he was sure. She wanted no one, other than himself, knowing her emotions. To everyone else, she put on the impression of being strong, confident, and sometimes slightly cold. Not that is was completely a facade, she was strong, but Gordon had also seen the vulnerable side to her, but also the loving side. Although, he couldn't help feeling that now, she was being distant even with him.
Matron rose and headed towards the door, seemingly realising she wasn't going to get any more out of him. "Gordon... you know where I am, if you need to talk, any time."
After Gordon and the children had left that morning, Jill immediately set to work around the house. She cleaned the bathroom, vacuumed the carpets, dusted the shelves, mowed the lawn and climbed up the ladder to paste the corner of the wallpaper that had been curling down in the corner of the living room for weeks. Eventually, when all this, and more, was complete, and she couldn't find anything else to do, she picked up a book and sat down on the settee in the living room.
Her eyes traced over the words, but they didn't register. Instead, a million noises filled her head; the Gordon's shouts, her own screams, the gunshot, and the grenades. They all jumbled together, creating one terrible, terrifying mess of noise, constantly repeating, blocking out any other noise or thought. Though occasionally there was silence. The same heart stopping silence after that final grenade, the silence as the dust settled around them as they stood motionless, covering them both and the land around in a fine film of the stuff. And as it had settled, allowed them to see again, revealing to them Patrick's death. After that the noise had begun again as activity had resumed, as it did in Jill's head, only in her head, it was a repeat of the explosions, and the vocalising of human terror.
Jill shot to her feet, mindless of her book falling to floor. She crossed the room in two rapid strides to the record player. She put moved the arm and flicked on the switch, not even bothering to look at the record that was about to play, just needing some other sound than the incessant cacophony in her head.
She watched as the record began to turn and the notes of song filled the room. She returned to the settee and sat down once more. She sank back in the cushions, attempting to make herself comfortable and closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate on the song, and it began to work, the noises quieted slightly. However, it wasn't long before images flooded her mind, swam beneath her eyelids; the barbed wire, the meat hanging on the hooks, the gun pointing at her, Gordon's fear, Alex's grief, the shattering of the tower.
Frustration rose withing her, tightening her throat, restricting her breathing. She once again leapt to her feet, flicked off the record player to instead turn on the television and raise the volume to an almost unbearable level.
She went back to the settee, stared at the pictures on the screen, but the images didn't fade. And as well, she could almost smell the dank, dampness of the dilapidated building. She could almost feel the ropes once again biting into her wrists and the gun pressed against her jaw, almost choked and gagged again as she had done when the dust had filled her mouth.
Her throat constricted yet further, and pressure built behind her eyes as she fought to keep her tears from falling. Frustration increased. She picked up a cushion, squeezing it, trying to release some of her tension, but to no avail. She flung it across the room. It hit an ornament, knocking it to the floor with a smash. She placed her head in her trembling hands as her tears escaped her control.
