‘That’s not going to happen.’
Annika wrote down his obs, which were all fine, and then, as Ross leant against the wall and Luke lay on the bed with his eyes closed, she spoke.
‘When the doctor has finished talking to you I will come back and sort out your room.’
‘And I’ll tell you the same thing I said to the cleaner.’
She saw Ross open his mouth to intervene as Luke snarled at her, but in this Annika didn’t need his help.
‘Would you rather I waited till children’s nap-time is over?’ Annika asked. ‘When you feel a little less grumpy.’
‘Ha-ha …’ he sneered, and then he opened his eyes and gave a nasty sarcastic grin. ‘Nice apron!’
‘I hate it,’ she said. ‘Wearing it is a bit demoralising and …’ She thought for a moment as Luke just stared. ‘Well, I find it a bit patronising really. If I were in cots it would maybe be appropriate. Still …’ Annika shrugged. ‘Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to.’ She replaced his chart. ‘I’ll be back to clean your room shortly.’
Ross was at the nurses’ station writing notes when she came over after completing the rest of the obs. He grinned when he saw her.
‘Nice apron.’
‘It’s growing on me!’ Annika said. ‘Tomorrow I want to wear the one with robots!’
‘I can’t wait!’ he replied, and, oh, for a witty retort—but there wasn’t one forthcoming, so instead she asked Lisa where the cleaning cupboard was and found a bin liner. She escaped to the rather more soothing, at least for Annika, confines of Luke’s room.
It was disgusting.
In the short time he had been in the room he had accumulated cups and plates and spilt drinks. There were used tissues on the floor. His bed was a disgrace because he refused to let anyone tidy it, and there were loads of cards from friends, along with all the gadgets fifteen-year-olds seemed to amass.
Luke didn’t tell her to leave—probably because he sensed she wouldn’t care if he did.
Annika was used to moods.
She had grown up surrounded by them and had chosen to completely ignore them.
Her father’s temper had been appalling, though it had never been aimed towards her—she had been the apple of his eye. Her brothers were dark and brooding, and her mother could sulk for Russia.
A fifteen-year-old was nothing, nothing, compared to that lot.
Luke ignored her.
Which was fine by Annika.
‘Everything okay?’ Lisa checked as she finally headed to the kitchen with a trolley full of used plates and cups.
‘All’s fine.’ The ward was quiet, the lights all dimmed, and Ross was still at the desk. ‘Do you need me to do anything else, or is it okay if I carry on with Luke’s room?’
‘Please do,’ Lisa said.
Luke wasn’t ignoring her now—instead he watched as she sorted out his stuff into neat piles and put some of it into a bag.
‘Your mum can take these home to wash.’
Other stuff she put into drawers.
Then she tacked some cards to the wall. All that was messy now, Annika decided as she wiped down the surfaces in his room, was the patient and his bed.
‘Now your catheter is out it will be easier to have a shower. I can run it for you.’
He said neither yes nor no, so Annika headed down the ward and found the linen trolley, selected some towels and then found the showers. She worked out the taps and headed back to her patient, who was a bit wobbly but refused a wheelchair.
‘Take my arm, then.’
‘I can manage,’ Luke said, and he said it again when she tried to help him undress.
‘You have a drip …’
‘I’m not stupid; I’ve had a drip before.’
Okay!
So she left him to it, and she didn’t hover outside, asking if he was okay every two minutes, because that would have driven Luke insane. Instead she moved to the other end of the bathroom, so she could hear him if he called, and checked her reflection, noting the huge smudges under her eyes, which her mother would point out to her when she went there for dinner at the weekend.
She was exhausted. Annika rested her head against the mirror for a moment and just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. She was beyond exhausted, in fact, and from this morning’s assessment it seemed it had been noticed.
Heather would never believe that she was working shifts in a nursing home, and the hardest slots too—five a.m. till eight a.m. if she was on a late shift at the hospital, and seven p.m. till ten p.m. if she was on an early. Oh, and a couple of nights shifts on her days off.
She was so tired. Not just bone-tired, but tired of arguing, tired of being told to pack in nursing, to come home, to be sensible, tired of being told that she didn’t need to nurse—she was a Kolovsky.
‘Iosef is a doctor,’ Annika had pointed out.
‘Iosef is a fool,’ her mother had said, ‘and as for that slut of a wife of his …’
‘Finished.’
She was too glum thinking about her mother to smile and cheer as Luke came out, in fresh track pants and with his hair dripping wet.
‘You smell much better,’ Annika settled for instead, and the shower must have drained Luke because he let Annika thread his T-shirt through his IV.
‘What are you looking so miserable about?’ Luke asked.
‘Stuff,’ Annika said.
‘Yeah,’ Luke said, and she was rewarded with a smile from him.
‘Oh, that’s much better!’ Lisa said, popping her head into the bathroom. ‘You’re looking very handsome.’ Annika caught Luke’s eyes and had to stop herself from rolling her own. She sort of understood him—she didn’t know how, she just did. ‘Your mum’s here, by the way!’ Lisa added.
‘Great,’ Luke muttered as Annika walked him back. ‘That’s all I need. You haven’t met her yet …’
‘You haven’t met mine!’ Annika said, and they both smiled this time—a real smile.
Annika surprised herself, because rarely, if ever, did she speak about her family, and especially not to a patient. But they had a little giggle as they walked, and she was too busy concentrating on Luke and pushing his IV to notice Ross look up from the desk and watch the unlikely new friends go by.
‘Are you still here?’ Caroline frowned, quite a long time later, because, as pedantic as Ross was, consultants didn’t usually hang around all day.
‘I just thought I’d catch up on some paperwork.’
‘Haven’t you got an office to go to?’ she teased.
He did, but for once he didn’t have that much paperwork to do.
‘Annika!’ Caroline called her over from where Annika was stacking the linen trolley after returning from her supper break. ‘Come and get started on your notes. I’ll show you how we do them. It’s different to the main wards.’
He didn’t look up, but he smelt her as she came around the desk.
A heavy, musky fragrance perfumed the air, and though he wrote it maybe twenty times a day, he had misspelled diarrhoea, and Ross frowned at his spiky black handwriting,