a bottle of something stashed in your bag,’ Melanie retorted, so loud Freya was sure that Sanjay, the nurse next door, would be able to hear. Melanie scented
blood and was not about to let this one go. ‘Don’t you dare insult me by lying about it. Pissed, were you? Is that why you barely looked at Ava? Too drunk to know what you were
doing?’
‘No!’ Freya cried hotly, not daring to look at her manager’s face.
Please believe me, Elizabeth,
she prayed, sweat pooling in her cleavage. It was another stifling day
and she’d made the mistake of wearing a long-sleeved rose-coloured silk blouse and black skirt, somehow forgetting that the surgery was like an oven in hot weather. She could almost feel her
make-up sliding down her face. ‘No,’ she said again, trying to sound crisp and in control. ‘I was absolutely not drunk. And I did check over Ava. I listened to her chest, I took
her temperature and looked in her ears . . .’
‘So why didn’t you tell me she was critically ill?’ Melanie’s voice was at shrieking pitch again. ‘Why did you let her nearly
die
?’
‘Let’s calm down a little,’ Elizabeth interjected, making downward motions with her hands.
‘I didn’t nearly let her die,’ Freya said to Melanie. ‘I wouldn’t. I’m a mother myself, I’ve—’
‘I don’t care,’ Melanie spat. She looked as if she wanted to fly across the desk that separated them and sink talons into Freya’s eyeballs. ‘I couldn’t give a
shit if you have children. I hope they get ill like Ava, and then you’ll know how
I
feel.’ She burst into a torrent of sobs, and Freya gasped, winded by Melanie’s
terrible words. How dare she?
Elizabeth put a firm hand on Freya’s arm – the subtext:
Do not rise to this
– and said, ‘Perhaps we should try this meeting again when Ava’s
better.’
Elizabeth guided Melanie out of the room while her bitter words thumped through Freya’s head like a bad fairy’s curse –
I hope your children get ill like Ava!
What
sort of a mother said something like that about somebody else’s child? What planet was this woman on?
She leaned back in her chair, all the fight knocked out of her, wishing desperately for one of her dad’s bear hugs by way of comfort. If only. Would her father have been terribly ashamed
if he could see the mess she was in right now? She could hardly bear to think about it. He had always been so proud of her.
‘Are you all right?’ Elizabeth asked when she returned a few minutes later. ‘Don’t take any notice of what she said, she’s just upset. I’m sorry you had to
sit through that, though, very unpleasant.’
Freya nodded, not trusting herself to speak all of a sudden.
Elizabeth gathered her papers together. ‘Listen, I’m satisfied you carried out the right checks on Ava but . . . well, Mrs Taylor is clearly something of a loose cannon right now. She may want to take this further, in which case . . .’ She spread her hands wide, an apologetic look on her face.
‘In which case, we’re in for round two,’ Freya said, feeling resigned to her fate.
‘Exactly. But put it behind you now if you can. You’re off on holiday soon, aren’t you? Well, leave all this with me and we can pick things up when you’re
back.’
The matter seemed to be over and Freya was about to stand up when she had a sudden flashback to being in the critical care unit with baby Dexter. Despite everything, she did understand
Melanie’s helpless, desperate rage. ‘Maybe I should just say sorry,’ she blurted out, feeling bad for the woman. Wasn’t that the human thing to do here?
The words came out in a mumble but Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up as if Freya had shouted them. ‘
Sorry?
For what?’
‘Well, for . . .’ Freya ground to a halt. ‘I did examine Ava properly that day, Elizabeth. I definitely did. But I know I’ve been a bit distracted recently. I probably
wasn’t firing on all cylinders. So maybe I should
blood and was not about to let this one go. ‘Don’t you dare insult me by lying about it. Pissed, were you? Is that why you barely looked at Ava? Too drunk to know what you were
doing?’
‘No!’ Freya cried hotly, not daring to look at her manager’s face.
Please believe me, Elizabeth,
she prayed, sweat pooling in her cleavage. It was another stifling day
and she’d made the mistake of wearing a long-sleeved rose-coloured silk blouse and black skirt, somehow forgetting that the surgery was like an oven in hot weather. She could almost feel her
make-up sliding down her face. ‘No,’ she said again, trying to sound crisp and in control. ‘I was absolutely not drunk. And I did check over Ava. I listened to her chest, I took
her temperature and looked in her ears . . .’
‘So why didn’t you tell me she was critically ill?’ Melanie’s voice was at shrieking pitch again. ‘Why did you let her nearly
die
?’
‘Let’s calm down a little,’ Elizabeth interjected, making downward motions with her hands.
‘I didn’t nearly let her die,’ Freya said to Melanie. ‘I wouldn’t. I’m a mother myself, I’ve—’
‘I don’t care,’ Melanie spat. She looked as if she wanted to fly across the desk that separated them and sink talons into Freya’s eyeballs. ‘I couldn’t give a
shit if you have children. I hope they get ill like Ava, and then you’ll know how
I
feel.’ She burst into a torrent of sobs, and Freya gasped, winded by Melanie’s
terrible words. How dare she?
Elizabeth put a firm hand on Freya’s arm – the subtext:
Do not rise to this
– and said, ‘Perhaps we should try this meeting again when Ava’s
better.’
Elizabeth guided Melanie out of the room while her bitter words thumped through Freya’s head like a bad fairy’s curse –
I hope your children get ill like Ava!
What
sort of a mother said something like that about somebody else’s child? What planet was this woman on?
She leaned back in her chair, all the fight knocked out of her, wishing desperately for one of her dad’s bear hugs by way of comfort. If only. Would her father have been terribly ashamed
if he could see the mess she was in right now? She could hardly bear to think about it. He had always been so proud of her.
‘Are you all right?’ Elizabeth asked when she returned a few minutes later. ‘Don’t take any notice of what she said, she’s just upset. I’m sorry you had to
sit through that, though, very unpleasant.’
Freya nodded, not trusting herself to speak all of a sudden.
Elizabeth gathered her papers together. ‘Listen, I’m satisfied you carried out the right checks on Ava but . . . well, Mrs Taylor is clearly something of a loose cannon right now. She may want to take this further, in which case . . .’ She spread her hands wide, an apologetic look on her face.
‘In which case, we’re in for round two,’ Freya said, feeling resigned to her fate.
‘Exactly. But put it behind you now if you can. You’re off on holiday soon, aren’t you? Well, leave all this with me and we can pick things up when you’re
back.’
The matter seemed to be over and Freya was about to stand up when she had a sudden flashback to being in the critical care unit with baby Dexter. Despite everything, she did understand
Melanie’s helpless, desperate rage. ‘Maybe I should just say sorry,’ she blurted out, feeling bad for the woman. Wasn’t that the human thing to do here?
The words came out in a mumble but Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up as if Freya had shouted them. ‘
Sorry?
For what?’
‘Well, for . . .’ Freya ground to a halt. ‘I did examine Ava properly that day, Elizabeth. I definitely did. But I know I’ve been a bit distracted recently. I probably
wasn’t firing on all cylinders. So maybe I should
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