Sticks and Stones (3 page)

In Lou’s experience ‘now, in a minute’ could mean anything from a few seconds to a whole week. She gave Gwen a small watery smile and whispered a shaky ‘thanks’, focusing on her tea.

Unbeknownst to Lou, Gwen tilted her head to the side and hovered at the doorway for a moment. Gwen was far older than she had admitted to medical staffing, or anyone else for that matter. She should have retired years ago, but she loved her job. One of the things she loved most about her job was people watching. All her life the people around her had fascinated Gwen and she didn’t think she had ever met a woman more radiant and full of life than Dr Louise Sands. Gwen frowned as she saw Lou’s shoulders slump slightly. Lately something or someone was taking the shine off Lou’s sparkle, and that, Gwen thought, was a great shame.

‘You’re a twp* bugger, but I like you’

‘Well it’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,’ Mrs Talbot said crossly, shifting on her plastic chair in irritation and clicking her tongue. Lou tipped her packet of Malteasers towards her again and Mrs Talbot wasted no time in grabbing a handful. ‘Bus drivers these day; they should be hung up in the town square by their balls for making us wait so long.’

‘I think that might be a bit harsh,’ Lou said mildly around her Malteaser, feeling a fresh wave of sympathy for Mrs Talbot’s husband, who had (as his daughter-in-law put it) ‘found the sweet release of death’ last year after enduring nearly seventy years of marital bliss. Although, since then, dementia seemed to have largely taken the wind out of her sails, so much so that Lou was actually quite heartened by the cantankerous, slightly blood-thirsty streak making an appearance again today, if only briefly.

‘Hey,’ Lou looked up at the sound of Frankie’s quiet voice and smiled. Frankie was wearing a glazed expression and sporting a particularly dreamy look in her eyes as she pulled up another plastic chair and sat next to Lou.

Hurrah! At last something in Lou’s life was going to plan. It looked like the little pep talk she gave Weasel had actually worked, and he’d managed to pull Frankie’s head out of her arse and make her realize how he felt about her.

With Tom and Frankie what should have been: boy meets girl, they fall in love and boy marries girl, was unfortunately a case of: boy meets girl, girl pines for boy, boy unintentionally humiliates girl in grotty student bar, boy and girl are kept apart by a crazy Welshman who’s in love with girl.

It was Boxing Day, and Lou knew that Tom had practically kidnapped Frankie yesterday to spend the day with his family after Lou let it slip that she was alone in the flat.

‘Sooo?’ Lou drew out the word and smiled at Frankie. ‘Seeing as you look like a junkie after a fix, and you didn’t come home last night I’m thinking that things with Weasel Gankface are back on.’

Frankie looked at her, pressed her lips together and to Lou’s horror her friend’s eyes filled with tears.

‘What’s going on?’ Tom was suddenly in front of both of them, his arms crossed around his chest and he was frowning down at Frankie. Lou saw red, and flew up onto her feet.

‘I told you what would happen to your meat and two veg if you hurt her Weasel,’ she said in a threatening tone, making a small lunge towards him. Much to Lou’s satisfaction his face paled and he took a step back, his hands flying to cover his groin. He then reached to pluck Frankie up off the chair and held her in front of him.

Lou relaxed when she heard Frankie giggle and saw that her eyes, although glistening with unshed tears, were still shining with happiness. The sight of a big man like Tom using petite Frankie as a shield was enough to break through Lou’s anger and she smiled. Frankie stepped forward, away from Tom and wrapped Lou in a firm hug.

‘I’m happy,’ she whispered in her ear and Lou gave her a squeeze. Lou looked over Frankie’s shoulder at Tom who was watching Frankie like a lovesick puppy.

‘Don’t fuck it up,’ she said to him and he smiled. ‘What are you even doing here today Weasel? You’re not on call.’

He scuffed his feet on the ground and threw her a sheepish grin. ‘I drove Frankie in and then thought I’d check on a few patients, get a bit of paperwork done.’ He shrugged and Lou’s face softened. She knew for a fact that Weasel hated paperwork and would never voluntarily do it, especially on Boxing Day. Her guess was that he just wanted to be where Frankie was; at least until it settled in that she had really come back to him.

Still, despite this, after Frankie had turned to go, Lou caught his eye, pointed two fingers at her own and then one at him. He smiled but she was pretty sure there was a small flicker of fear there too.

Lou sat back down next to Mrs Talbot who flicked her an annoyed look.

‘All this commotion at the bus stop,’ she said snottily. ‘Most unseemly, and why is everyone standing and walking in the middle of the road.’ She was starting to get agitated now and Lou sighed, putting her hand over Mrs Talbot’s papery one.

‘We’re in the ward, remember Mrs Talbot?’ Lou said softly, turning towards her. Mrs Talbot’s confused eyes were now looking frantically up and down the ward corridor at the patients and staff.

‘Well I…I need to go home. Dennis will be at a complete loss.’ Her words were shaking slightly and both her hands were now gripping Lou’s in a vice-like grip. ‘I don’t feel so well dear,’ she finished in a small voice.

‘How about we go back to your bed?’ Lou said briskly. ‘Get you a nice cup of tea and some biscuits.’ Mrs Talbot brightened as Lou led her through the ward and settled her with her tea, turning on the pay-per-view telly.

‘Punctuality is just not your thing lately is it Louise?’ The crisp voice pulled Lou up short when she came back out onto the ward corridor. Ugh! She’d been early today, and had already spent half an hour pretending she was at a bloody bus stop whilst she waited for the round to start. Dr Hudson would have to arrive the moment she had left the main ward.

‘I was –‘

‘Save me the excuses Dr Sands, let’s just crack on.’ Of course it would have to be Dr Hudson on-call today, it couldn’t be her own, more laid back consultant Dr Morris. ‘Where is “The Orthopod”,’ she said ominously.

‘Someone call for an orthopod?’ Dylan replied, as he strolled round the corner wearing a Father Christmas hat. He came to a stop in front of them, and, with a flourish, he produced two reindeer antler headbands from behind his back. ‘Merry Christmas! I’ve brought in something to get us all in the spirit.’

Grinning, he shoved one down onto Lou’s head. Then, to Lou’s horror, he breached the perfection of Dr Hudson’s grey helmet of hair with the headband and unceremoniously adjusted it into position. Dr Hudson’s face had turned an alarming shade of red with barely contained rage, but Dylan, who either didn’t register this or simply didn’t care, merely gave her a small shoulder bump and winked at her with a cheeky grin.

‘See, aren’t you feeling more festive already?’ To Lou’s surprise she noticed Dr Hudson relax her furious stance slightly and press her lips together as if she was holding back a smile. Very few females of any age were impervious to his charm, and, as ever, Dylan played on this ruthlessly.

‘That’s all well and good Orthopod,’ Dr Hudson said, rolling her eyes at the sheer audacity of his impertinence, ‘but do you think we can be festive and still do the ward round?’

‘Sure,’ Dylan offered magnanimously. ‘Lead the way boss.’

There was an awkward pause and Lou looked up to the ceiling, seeking patience.

‘I think you’ll find that that is your job young man,’ Dr Hudson finally said and then turned to Lou. ‘Seeing as “The Orthopod” has turned up empty-handed, other than novelty items, I’m hoping that you have a patient list underneath that magazine.’ Lou glanced down at her copy of ‘Hello’ and cringed, the ward round was turning into a complete disaster and they hadn’t even seen a single patient yet.

‘It’s not for-‘ Lou started, gesturing at the magazine, but was cut off by Dr Hudson.

‘Didn’t I already say I wasn’t interested in excuses?’ she said sharply. Dylan shifted next to Lou uncomfortably and shot her an apologetic look. Lou closed her eyes for a moment in frustration. He knew he was supposed to print the list. It was about the only job she actually entrusted to him. Would it be so hard just to do his job and help her for once? She understood that he hated elderly care, or rather, hated anything that didn’t involve his hammer and power tools, but couldn’t he make the slightest bit of effort? They were friends after all and this might not have been his chosen career but it was hers.

Dylan’s happiness
mattered
to her, weirdly almost as much as her own. It was galling to realize that he couldn’t even muster enough concern for her to arrive five minutes early and print the bloody list out.

After an embarrassing wait, whilst the ward computer took the requisite five hundred years to splutter to life and produce a list of patients, they started the ward round. Lou’s irritation was gradually ratcheting up higher, as by the fifth patient she realized that Dylan’s idea of note taking today appeared to consist of the date, an odd word or two (one note entry merely read ‘poorly’) and his scrawled signature.

The referral cards he was filling out weren’t much better either, with the clinical information on a gastroenterology referral consisting of ‘dodgy tum’. He was smirking as if it was all a huge joke as Lou ran around like a blue-arsed fly sorting everything out. Unfortunately this meant she missed loads of what Dr Hudson was saying and kept having to make her repeat herself (something it was clear that Elaine Hudson did not enjoy doing).

By the time they made it to the last two patients Lou was completely frazzled. Mrs Jones had finally been decontaminated of MRSA and was on the ward next to Mrs Talbot. The two of them had been having a great time as they seemed to have found kindred spirits as far as their general disdain for the staff (there was much dark mutterings about ‘illegal immigrants’; they even referred to the New Zealand F2 working on the ward as ‘that one from the colonies’), the level of cleanliness, and above all the food.

Lou managed to shoot ahead slightly and slip Mrs Jones the copy of ‘Hello’ she’d been carting round with her. This particular issue had an interview with Kylie Minogue that Lou knew Mrs Jones would love. When she was moved onto the ward Mrs Jones made it clear that her ancient telly and video player were coming with her so she could continue to watch ‘Neighbours’ circa 1980s on repeat. Her eyes lit up when she saw Kylie’s face beaming from the front page and she snatched it from Lou, but not without giving her an uncharacteristic small smile.

‘Finally a ffwcin* grown up I can speak to,’ Lou looked up sharply as she saw a large red-faced man barreling towards them through the four-bedded bay. She sighed, recognizing him as Mrs Talbot’s son. His rather meek, reed-thin, brow-beaten wife was trailing behind him. ‘I’ve been trying to see the top dog here for two bloody weeks but all I get are these pathetic minions,’ he continued, gesturing to Lou and Dylan. ‘I want to know how the hell you lot think we can pay for carers to come in?’

‘Mr Talbot, I’m sorry but I already explained to you that as clinicians we have no influence over – ‘

‘Zip it you dumb ast*!’ He threw out his hand towards Lou, but before he could connect she felt herself shifted back behind Dylan’s big frame. Lou could literally feel the menace radiating from Dylan’s body as he leaned into Mr Talbot’s space. She was guessing that ast was welsh for something not too nice, and, with the way he said it, she thought she could take a good stab at the translation. The change from Dylan’s usual persona as the standard relaxed, carefree joker was stark. Despite the other man’s size he was no match for Dylan who towered over him, his Welsh accent thickening in his anger.

‘Cau dy ffwcin ceg*!’ Dylan barked and Lou noticed both Mrs Jones and Mrs Talbot suck in shocked breaths. His welsh probably wasn’t S4C pre-watershed material either. Mr Talbot shut his mouth and paled, having belatedly registered the level of Dylan’s anger.

Dylan leaned into him and started talking quietly, still in welsh. Lou couldn’t decipher any of the words, but she caught the flash of fear in Mr Talbot’s eyes. After Dylan had finished Mr Talbot beat a hasty retreat, dragging his mortified wife behind him. Dylan shifted back to easygoing as soon as Mr Talbot had rounded the corner and smiled at Dr Hudson.

‘He’s decided that he’ll make an appointment to discuss things another time,’ he said casually, totally unruffled by the experience, whereas Lou could feel herself shaking. Dr Hudson sighed.

‘Well it’s good to see that you’re keeping the patients’ families on side Dr Sands,’ she said sarcastically and turned to Dylan. ‘I know that some people may consider orthopaedic surgeons to be somewhat lower on the evolutionary scale. Despite this I would advise that you handle potentially volatile situations with rather less Welsh obscenity and male posturing, and rather more restrained behaviour and hospital security.’ Dylan shrugged. Dr Hudson rolled her eyes and went back to Mrs Talbot to listen to her chest. Mrs Talbot however was looking at Dylan like he’d hung the moon. She was obviously not her son’s biggest fan. Ignoring Dr Hudson she leaned forward in her bed and pulled Dylan down to her level, grabbing his face in both her hands.

‘You’re a twp* bugger,’ she said loudly, ‘but I like you.’ She gave both his cheeks a couple of forceful pats before pushing him away. Dr Hudson went to start examining her again but she shooed her away.

‘Tea! Custard creams!’ Mrs Talbot cried dramatically. ‘What kind of hellhole is this place? Are we all to be starved to death?’ Lou eyed Mrs Talbot’s tea, which was only half finished and still steaming slightly, and the crumbs on her plate, and rolled her eyes.