SIDE B

Track 5: Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison

Missing Track: Flashdance... What A Feeling! - Irene Cara

Missing Track: Annie's Song - John Denver

"If we're supposed to be co-leading, how come you make all the decisions?"

"Because someone's got to keep some order around here. You'd happily turn this place into a field hospital if I gave you half a chance!"

"Not true, but what would be the problem with that? We'd definitely get through the patients quicker and cleaner."

"Because we're not in bloody Kandahar, that's why!"

"How is that relevant?"

"It's not happening - end of."

I grabbed the nearest patient file as she made a noise of irritation before stomping off in the other direction. I don't know what triggered it, but I had woken up in a foul mood that morning, and as always she was the one to grind on my nerves. Despite my resolving to be amicable with her whilst trying to work out my feelings, and hers, the tension between us continued to thicken. I felt like screaming at her. How could she just carry on as normal, as if none of this phased her whatsoever, whilst I was in such turmoil? I didn't know just how much longer I could keep my composure.

Miss Caroline Trent: severe abdominal pains, bloody stools.

I froze.

No.

Could it be?

I looked up across the ward, to the little old lady staring back at me from Bay 4.

"Well I never!"

Her voice carried across the ward sharply, turning a few heads as it did so. Just like it so often had in the classroom, all those years ago.

I quickly rushed over, desperate to avoid any of the other staff discovering our connection, and more importantly to prevent her from discovering Bernie. We had so carefully concealed the fact that we had been at school together, and the fact that we had done so was bound to raise some questions, should the truth out.

"Serena McKinnie! I thought it was you!" She enthused as I approached her bed, her eyes twinkling nostalgically and her thin, aged lips twisted up into a warm smile. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you," I stated, desperate to keep the attention away from myself and our relationship. "And what can I help you with today?"

"And was that Berenice Wolfe you were bickering with just now? Some things never change, I see."

I winced inwardly.

"Let's just concentrate on you for now, shall we?"

She nodded happily. "Yes, of course."

I got to work on assessing her, my mind racing as I did so. This was all I needed. Already, I was fighting my hardest to keep myself professional at work, but the close contact was making it so difficult that it was almost suffocating just being in the same room as Bernie, never mind working on a patient which held so many memories for us together. We needed to sort this out, I knew. But when, and how? How could I possibly begin to articulate how it was that I was feeling? I couldn't even work it out for myself, never mind tell it to her. And what would I do if she wasn't feeling the same way? I didn't know if I could bear it. The one thing I did know, however, as Fletch arrived to take her obs, was that I needed to alert Bernie to her presence, or else the whole hospital was sure to be awash with gossip in no time.

After surveying Miss Trent's symptoms, I concluded she had a bleeding peptic ulcer and quickly rushed off to book her a slot in theatre so as to avoid any more questions from her about Bernie and I.

"Bernie."

"Serge?"

"What?" I frowned at her. She grinned, and my mind flashed back to our conversation earlier. "Oh, you have got a cheek, you know that?"

She laughed. "What's up?"

I took a breath. "Okay, be subtle," I murmured, standing closer to her so that she could hear. "Look in Bay Four."

She turned her head sharply.

"Oh for goodness sake!"

"What?"

"Could you be any more obv-"

"Berenice!"

With a sigh, I turned to see her looking over at both of us and waving vigorously, and before I knew it Bernie was striding over to greet her.

And Fletch.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth as I followed her, resisting the urge to put my head in my hands.

"I told Serena I thought it was you! How are you? I must tell you, you haven't aged a day, either of you," she gushed, reaching up to warmly shake Bernie's hand.

Fletch's ears pricked up at her words, the playful twinkle lighting up in his eyes as it always did when he sensed some good gossip. My stomach jolted.

"Fletch, would you mind changing Mr Madison's dressing in the side room?" I asked quickly, rushing around to his side of the bed. "I'll take over Miss Trent's obs."

"I'm nearly done, really," he protested, holding up her chart. "I'll be two more minutes."

"No-"

"Oh come on, Serena," Miss Trent insisted. "Sit and talk to me for a moment. I'd love to know how you're both doing. How long's it been?"

Not long enough, I thought, my shoulders slumping as I gave in. I turned back to stand beside Bernie at the end of the bed, glancing up at Fletch to see again his delighted expression, though I could tell he was at least attempting to hide it.

"Thirty years, just over," Bernie recalled, looking across at me. Thirty years. That was a lifetime, for some. We were both all too aware of that.

"Thirty-three," I corrected, matching her gaze, my jaw tight and neck straight. A look of sadness flashed through her irises, so fleeting that I was barely sure if it was actually there.

"Blimey!" Miss Trent gasped, looking between us with intrigue. "It feels like yesterday you two were sat in my classroom."

"Wait, you were at school together?" Fletch interrupted, a look of shock on his face.

I grimaced, my eyes rolling towards the ceiling and begging for this to be a dream.

"Many moons ago," Bernie answered, her hands slipping into her pockets and her teeth tugging on her bottom lip. She was as uncomfortable as I, I could tell, but did a significantly better job of hiding it.

"They were trouble, the both of them," she leaned her head towards Fletch conspiringly. "Always bickering and winding one another up."

"Really?" Fletch was grinning now, evidently dropping any attempt at subtlety. This was going to be all over the hospital in no time, and there was no point in his denying it.

"Oh, yes," she continued. I looked over at Bernie warily, and saw my own screaming expression reflected in her features. We were out.

I didn't know how it could get any worse.

"I knew why though." She looked back at us with a suggestive glint dancing in her eyes. "And I must say, I'm really pleased you stayed together, all these years."

I felt like hitting my head on the nearest wall.

"Excuse me?" I feigned ignorance, glancing across at Bernie in alarm. She looked equally panicked by this revelation, and raised her eyebrows in a way that let me know she was just as clueless of how to stop it.

"Don't play that game with me, Miss McKinnie," she grinned, shifting slightly. "I could see… even then… just how much you loved one another… really… I saw you…"

"BP's dropping," Fletch announced, his eyes still alive with the knowledge of our secret.

"Miss Trent, lie back for me."

I carefully leant her back by the shoulders whilst Bernie felt her abdomen with her delicate fingertips, before listening with her stethoscope.

"Ulcer's perforated. She's bleeding out."

As if on cue, she jerked forwards, dark blood spraying from her lips.

"We need to get her into theatre. Now."

::

"What are we going to do?" I hissed as Bernie appeared next to me at the nurses' station.

"Sorry?" She blinked, looking up from her patient's file.

"We're going to be all over the hospital!"

"Oh." She cleared her throat, shaking her head. "I don't think there's much we can do."

"Perfect!" I huffed, typing away furiously at my patient notes. Stress tugged at my chest. How could I cope with all the gossip? It was something that I always found suffocating and would have done anything to avoid.

"I've looked through her patient file," Fletch interrupted, completely oblivious to the turmoil he had triggered. "No next of kin; I couldn't trace anyone that knows her at all. Seems she's all on her own."

My gaze turned to the side room in which our former teacher was resting after her op. Something about the knowledge that she, who we had always seen as surrounded by people, was now completely alone in the world, struck a chord with both of us. How could someone possibly go from all that to nothing?

I turned my head to see Bernie's eyes boring into mine; she was thinking the same thing as me, and simultaneously we stood, before striding over to the side room.

"Miss Trent, how're you feeling?"

"Please," she croaked, smiling weakly. "Call me Caroline."

"Caroline," Bernie repeated with a nod.

She let out a slow breath. "I'm fine. Just a little spaced out."

"That'll be the anaesthesia wearing off," I told her, walking around to the other side of her bed to check her vitals. "You should feel better in a couple of hours."

"Thanks." She let her eyelids rest shut, and Bernie and I glanced at one another.

"Miss… Caroline," Bernie corrected herself. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Anyone at all?"

She kept her eyelids closed, shaking her head slowly. "No one."

"A friend? Partner? Neighbour?" I offered, returning to stand beside Bernie. "Surely there's someone."

"I…" She took a deep breath in, clenching her teeth. "I prefer keeping to myself."

"Really?" Bernie replied, moving to sit in the chair at the side of her whilst I perched on the end of the bed. "Because not too long ago, we couldn't get you to shut up talking to us." I hummed in agreement.

"Well." Her eyes opened slightly to reveal a playful twinkle in her eyes. "That's because I haven't seen you in a while. And I couldn't resist telling you about that night I saw you both - I could never forget it." She spluttered a small laugh.

"What night?" I frowned at her, looking across to an equally confused Bernie.

"It was one night in the summer after you'd left school," she told us, the corners of her lips twisting upwards as she did so. "You were in the street outside my house making a right racket, dancing about. Must have been three in the morning."

Bernie chuckled, a broad grin spreading across her features. "I think I remember."

"I don't."

"You wouldn't," she teased, and Miss Trent let out a little giggle.

"Yes, I think it's safe to say you were more than a little drunk, Serena."

I shook my head, racking my brains for any trace of this event. I turned to Bernie, who was gazing at me in amusement.

"It was the night we went to see Flashdance," she offered, raising her eyebrows. "We stayed at a club near the cinema for a couple of hours, and then you said you knew a short cut back to the hotel which ended up being in the opposite direction entirely."

"That was it!" Miss Trent seemed to gather more energy from teasing me. "You were running about singing the song from that!"

"With the dance moves," Bernie added, her eyes glistening with the recollection.

I shook my head at her, a smile creeping onto my lips. "I really don't remember."

They both laughed.

"You always were rather a… reckless dancer when you were drunk."

"Speak for yourself!" I defended, turning to Miss Trent. "The stories I could tell you about her!"

"Like what?" Bernie bluffed, cocking her head to one side and arching an eyebrow.

"Like... that time you got kicked out of Starlight for being too drunk, then fell over your own feet on your way out and cracked your head open!"

She shook her head. "That was a misunderstanding," she murmured, smirking. "I was tripped."

I laughed. "Yeah right! Anyway," I cleared my throat, turning back to the elderly teacher. "How did you suss us out from that? You don't have to be a couple to dance around in the street drunk with someone."

Miss Trent smiled warmly, looking between us. "Well, after you'd finished your... performance," Bernie snorted, "You kissed in the street."

I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks, casting a small glance to the chair next to me and seeing Bernie too looking down at her hands shyly. Somehow, having the fact that we had kissed acknowledged out loud seemed far more overwhelming that merely talking of our relationship; it was more intimate, deeper, evoked more concrete memories. Both of us, now, were reliving that moment, remembering the feeling of our lips moulding together and the dizziness of young love. I watched as she tucked her hair behind her ears, smacking her lips together and drumming her fingers on her knee as we both struggled for words, and I could tell, undoubtedly, that she missed it, almost as much as I. But she had thrown it all away. How could she? I wanted her so badly, but I found it so difficult to push past that fact.

"And then Bernie was singing," Miss Trent continued happily, oblivious. "That Van Morrison song, the one with the brown... Brown Eyed Girl, that's it!"

I remembered that song; it was on the tape. She used to sing it to me all the time, particularly when she was very very drunk.

She nodded at the memory. "Yes," she began, before turning her head, her eyes suddenly meeting directly with mine in a way that made my heart falter. "That's always been your song, in my head." She smiled softly, her eyes fond and warm and full of nostalgia and such pure affection that I felt a lump begin to form in my throat. I looked away quickly, clearing my throat and standing myself up straighter.

"Well…" I stammered, lacing my fingers together and trying to think of something to say in response to that. What could I say? I still loved her? But anger and bitterness still grumbled in my stomach, almost sickeningly so.

"Aww, that's really sweet," Miss Trent gushed on, her head turning between the two of us like she was watching a pingpong match. "What about you Serena, do you have one for Berenice?"

I laughed inwardly. "Girlfriend in a Coma?" I replied dryly, staring at her. She raised her eyebrows at me, her mouth opening slightly.

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" I held her gaze. Her eyes widened in hurt. I had intended it as a joke, but what I saw in her eyes was genuine guilt. She knew just how much she had hurt me, and wouldn't blame me for any contempt I had towards her, but surely our relationship had come further than that, these past few months? Had it? The truth was, we hadn't let it. Sure, we got on well and in some respects I might say she was my best friend. However, still there was this underlying tension that we both were too cowardly to address. And it was destroying us. We could be so much better.

"Ooh dear," Miss Trent chimed in. "Have I interrupted a little domestic?"

I cleared my throat, glancing away from Bernie back to our former teacher. "No," I said quietly, deciding to be truthful. "No. John Denver. Annie's Song. That was… has always been my song for you."

"Oh, I love that one!"

"How does that go?" Bernie frowned at me, her eyes narrowing. I took a breath.

"You fill up my senses…" I began, avoiding her gaze, but Miss Trent's enthusiasm took over:

"Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,

let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,

let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.

Come let me love you, come love me again."

I swallowed thickly, looking up to see her staring at me, her eyes glittering with sadness. My heart strained. I loved her so much. This mess we were in was killing both of us, I knew. How could we be so stupid as to let it get this far? I needed to push past this bitterness that was eating me alive, needed to allow myself to feel what I was feeling: love. I loved her, and I wanted her back.

My eyes flitted down to her hands, folded in her lap just an arm's reach away. I had a chance, here, to make that first connection, to begin to forgive and forget. All it would take would be for me to lean over, place my hand over hers, interlink our fingers. Could I?

I reached out.

BLEEP. BLEEP. BLEEP.

Both of us jumped as her pager buzzed in her pocket.

"Sorry," she stuttered, swiftly lifting it up to read. "Trauma call. I've got to go." She looked at me apologetically. "Are you alright here?"

"Yes, of course," I replied quickly, taking a sharp breath to steady myself.

"I'll maybe see you later?"

"Yeah. Sure."

She smiled at me, a thousand unspoken words dancing behind her eyes, desperate to spill out. But now was not the time, and after a short farewell to Miss Trent and a promise to come see her again later if she was still on the ward, she was gone.

"I may as well take your obs, whilst I'm here," I announced suddenly, attempting to change the subject. "Then we'll see if you're ready to go up to a ward."

She nodded as I stood, moving round to end of the bed for her chart before striding back around to take her blood pressure. "You know, I really am pleased you two stayed together all this time. Not many couples get to say they were together from secondary school, do they?"

"Just relax for me," I instructed as the monitor flashed on. I held my breath. "We're not together."

"What?" She frowned at me, her mouth gaping open.

I exhaled. "We're not together," I repeated, keeping my eyes on the monitor, watching the numbers rise and fall as it took the reading.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly, her hand moving to gently rest on my arm and give it a comforting squeeze. "What happened? If you don't mind my asking."

I barked out a short laugh, more in attempt to quell the emotion that was suddenly rising in my throat at, for the first time in thirty years, talking out loud about what had gone on between us. After she left, I had never spoken of it again. It never seemed relevant, and the times that it did I just couldn't bear to talk of it aloud. It hurt too much, and I felt ridiculous for allowing her to have that effect on me, after decades of being apart.

"She…" I began, unsure really of what to say. "She went to university, and so did I… and we never spoke again. Not a phone call or letter, she didn't even come back for Christmas." I busied myself with recording her BP and sats, grinding my teeth against tears. How could she affect me like this?

"Why not?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't for want of trying," I sighed, replacing her chart at the end of the bed. "She just never got in touch, and I couldn't find any way to get into contact with her at all."

"Has she explained why?"

I sat back down, shaking my head. "We haven't spoken of it. Any of it."

She looked at me sympathetically, and we both sat silently for a few moments, contemplating my words. There it was. Out in the open. So why didn't I feel any better?

"Go and talk to her," Miss Trent murmured eventually, her hand again reaching to rest on my arm. "You need to hear what she has to say for herself."

I heaved a breath. "I know," I said slowly, running a hand over my face. "I know. I just don't know if I want to hear it. It makes me so angry."

She nodded in understanding, pursing her lips as if she were holding her tongue about something before taking a deep breath. "Do you remember Mr Bailey, the English teacher?"

I paused, my forehead creasing. "Yes, why?" I asked, watching as her smile faltered, though she tried her best to keep it going.

"It must have been eighteen years that him and I danced around one another," she told, her voice straining. "Both of our friends kept telling us to just ask one another out, but neither of us had the bottle. Until one day, I bumped into him at singles night at the Cross Keys and found out that he had been feeling the same way, all that time. Eighteen years that we could have had together, wasted. All because we were both scared of losing one another if we didn't feel the same way." She hesitated, swallowing. "Fourteen months after we'd been together, he fell in town and had a fit. Turned out her had a grade four brain tumour. He went into hospital on Wednesday, died on the Monday." She sniffed, reaching up to wipe her eyes with a shaky finger.

"I'm sorry," I said gently, putting my hand over hers on my arm.

"And ever since," she continued, taking a shaky breath. "I've spent every single day sat thinking about all that time wasted, thinking of all that we could have had together: marriage, kids, a house. I know that's not the sort of thing you'll be thinking of now, but what I'm trying to say is… life's too short."

My stomach panged, and as I looked up into her tear-filled eyes and saw all the hurt that was held there, I knew she was right. I was wasting time, and for no good reason. I didn't want to lose her again, and that was holding me back, but deep down I knew that I was only delaying the inevitable. One day, we would have to talk about it, and cowardice was the only thing delaying it.

After our little talk, I managed to find Miss Trent a bed on a ward, along with a referral for grief counselling and the details of some local social events for people her age and befriending schemes. My stomach never stopped turning all afternoon, and when she finally stepped into our office at the end of the shift I felt as though I might be sick.

"Serena-"

"Bernie-"

We both stopped, waiting for the other to pick up the conversation. I couldn't breathe. Suddenly the words had left me, and I would have been happy to ignore it for the rest of my life. I chastised myself mentally for being so spineless.

She closed the door gently behind her, moving to sit on one of the two chairs next to the door.

"Serena," she continued, looking at the floor. "I think… This has gone on long enough."

I sighed heavily. There it was.

"Yes, it has," I agreed, grasping my hands together. "We need to talk. Not here, though." She shook her head. I hesitated. "How about we go to dinner, Saturday night?"

Her eyes met mine, warm and hopeful. "Yes, of course," she nodded eagerly, though I could tell she was trying to hold herself back.

"Good," I replied, smiling, warmth spreading in my stomach, the early tingle of nerves and excitement as my mind instantly jumped to the word 'date'. It wasn't, I attempted to calm myself, but still we found ourselves grinning stupidly at one another across the short distance between her chair and my desk. I wanted to kiss her. But not now. Two days. Maybe.

"Well, goodnight," she beamed eventually, standing up. She didn't make to leave though, as if waiting for me. Not tonight.

"Yes, goodnight," I smiled. "We can talk tomorrow about times and stuff like that."

"Yeah, sure." She nodded, still waiting. I turned my head back to the computer, signalling to her that the conversation was over. I didn't know how much longer I would be able to keep my resolve, with her standing so close like this.

"'Night," she repeated finally, before turning and exiting the office. I let out a deep held breath.

Two days.

I had waited thirty-three years, but all of a sudden a mere forty-eight hours felt like a lifetime.

Two days.