Page 28 of Pyg

15

PINK, OBVIOUSLY

A lice blinked awake as the bedroom door nudged open and Ash entered, with a steaming mug of coffee gripped in each hand.

“It was my turn to make you coffee this morning,” said Alice, her voice thick with sleep.

“Next time.” Ash grinned, and Alice did too, at the possibility of next time.

She sat up and took the proffered mug from Ash, who slipped back into bed beside her.

“So, I gotta go to work today.”

Alice groaned.

Ash laughed. “I know. I don’t want to go either. But if you want to come with me, I could probably fit your cast if the swelling looks good. It’ll save you a trip later in the week.” Ash blew on her mug and took a sip. “And you could visit George, if you wanted to, that is?”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great. I can’t believe you’re not sick of me yet.”

Ash frowned and shook her head. “Why would I be? I’ve loved hanging out with you. I’d like to do it again sometime if you want to?”

Alice smiled and nodded. Right now, she wanted nothing more, because time spent with Ash was like a tantalising tonic. Perhaps all medical professionals have this effect? They’re trained to make people feel better after all.

No. She’d never felt this way in the presence of any other doctor, especially not her fusty old GP, Doctor Scrivens, whom she had to come out to every time she so much as needed a repeat prescription.

“Is there any chance you might be pregnant, Ms French?”

“No.”

“You’re not sexually active?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, we’re not prescribing birth control, so what methods are you using?”

“Lesbianism,” Alice answered the last time and perhaps Doctor Scrivens had finally got the message, as he nudged his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and said,

“Jolly good. That’ll do the trick.”

Make a note on my bloody file, it’ll save us both the blushes , she’d thought, but been too embarrassed to say.

A few hours later, a very different doctor sat in front of Alice; she removed the splint and examined Alice’s bare wrist. Black with bruising, but only a little swollen, it looked pretty good, considering.

A deep line etched between Ash’s brows as she concentrated. She traced her fingers up Alice’s forearm, and Alice’s breath hitched. Fuck.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Pull yourself together, she’s only touching your arm. But since when had Alice found scrubs so damn sexy?

Since right now, looking at Ash. God, she’s actually gorgeous.

Stop. It. You. Fucking. Nympho.

Ash looked at her and smiled. “Red, blue or pink?”

“Huh?”

“What colour cast would you like?”

“Oh. Pink, obviously,” Alice said.

Ash grinned. “Obviously.”

A loaded silence filled the air as Ash worked methodically, applying the cast to Alice’s arm. When it was dry, Ash plucked a black marker pen from the breast pocket of her scrubs and flashed Alice a mischievous grin.

“May I?”

Alice laughed. “You want to sign your handiwork?”

Ash nodded and pulled off the pen lid between her teeth. Alice held out her arm and Ash cradled it in her lap as she set to work, neatly printing small letters across Alice’s palm. Alice’s body tingled with the proximity of Ash’s warmth and her scent; coconut shampoo and cedarwood.

She swallowed. “Do you deface all your patients like this?”

“No, just you.” Ash lifted Alice’s hand towards her lips and blew on the ink. Alice’s heart raced with the sensation of Ash’s breath on her fingers.

“There, all done.” Ash grinned.

Alice glanced down at the inscription.

Handle with care x

* * *

Despite her broken bone and painful, bruised knee, Alice left Ash with a spring in her step and made her way to see George. In the corridor outside George’s room, she smiled at the familiar face.

With big eyes popping over her glasses, Marjorie glared at Alice’s bright pink plaster cast. “Tsk. What scrapes have you been getting yourself into now?”

“Oh, this...” Alice suddenly felt a bit foolish. Why had she opted for a pink cast? It announced her injury like it was some sort of achievement. “I, er… fell out of the bath,” she mumbled.

The nurse chuckled.

“Is George awake?”

“Mmm-hmm, but he’s a bit quiet today. Perhaps you and your Barbie Girl arm can cheer him up?” Marjorie’s laugh punched through the air again and her hips swayed as she bumbled away.

Holding a plastic mug in his hand, George stared into the void, his face as blank and pale as the surrounding walls.

“Hey,” Alice said softly, not wanting to scare him into spilling his drink. George blinked hard and squinted to focus in her direction.

“Hey there, klutz.” He conjured a half-smile that seemed to take a lot of effort. “You look awfully happy with yourself, all things considered.”

The warmth in Alice’s chest must have been radiating into her smile. “Yeah, well, karma took a bit of revenge on me for bashing your head. How are you feeling?”

George blinked and turned his gaze back to the spot he was staring at before. “I’ve been better.”

Alice considered him for a moment and reached into her vast bag, rummaging as she stepped towards the visitors’ chair. “Now, I didn’t know what you’d like. I was trying to figure out whether you’d be more of a custard cream or a Hobnob type guy. It was a tough call.”

“What did you go with?”

“Jammie Dodgers.”

George puffed a laugh through his nose.

Alice placed the packet on the over-bed table and pulled out a box from her bag.

“And chocolate fingers because you can’t beat a chocolate finger, can you?”

George’s lip ticked up with the hint of a smile.

“Oi, I didn’t mean it like that, dirty old man.” She tore open the box and held it out to George. “Dip one in your tea?”

George glanced down at the cup in his hand as if he’d forgotten it was there. “It’s gone cold.”

Alice shrugged and popped a chocolate finger in her mouth, holding it like a cigar. “I hear it was good news about the MRI. No brain injury, after all?”

“No, apparently not. Even so, I’m stuck in here and I’m not really sure why.” He sighed. “It was my birthday.”

“When?”

“The night you found me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“How could you have known? To be honest, I didn’t remember until yesterday.”

“Well, happy birthday, George.” Alice continued to suck the chocolate from the biscuit finger. “Well, whatever you were up to, it didn’t end so well, did it?”

“That’s the thing. I have this terrible feeling about it all. I just can’t quite…” George clenched his fists.

“I’m not sure whether anyone told you, and you might’ve just been dreaming, or whatever… but before you woke up, you kept mumbling about a pig.”

George looked at her, his thick eyebrows drawn down towards his eyes. “A pig?”

“Yeah. And Marjorie told me you were saying something about a dog, too.”

“Ah.” George’s eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“Was I saying Pyglet?”

Alice frowned. “No, just pig.”

“Oh, well, I must have been talking about Pyg then.”

“Yes, that’s right, you kept saying pig.”

“No, you don’t understand — Pyg.”

Alice looked at him through wide eyes. Maybe they should do another MRI?

“P-Y-G. Pyg, she was our dog. Such a beautiful girl.” George smiled as if seeing her in his mind’s eye before his forehead rumpled into a frown. “But why was I talking about Pyg?”

They both pondered the question for a moment; it seemed as impossible for George to answer as it did Alice.

He turned to look at her again. “I was going to ask you a favour before you broke your arm. But I’m not sure it’d be fair of me to ask you now.”

“Just ask.” She shrugged and pulled another chocolate finger from the box.

“I wanted to ask if you’d go by my house and see if everything’s in order. I’ve been wondering whether there’ll be any clues as to why I was out and about that night.”

“You’d be okay with me doing that? How do you know I won’t steal everything?”

“Because one, I don’t have much to steal and two, you brought me here and you keep coming back. So, either you’re in it for the long game, hoping I’ll write you into my will and promptly pop my clogs, or you’re genuinely a good person.”

Alice giggled. “You got me. I’m in it for the will.”

“Plus, you brought my coat and wallet back, and there was still money in it.”

“Oh, damn, I missed that. Yeah, I’ll go to your house. Maggie, my sister, is picking me up in a bit. I can ask her to swing by there before taking me home. I’ll give Ash a call if I find anything.”

“Really, you don’t mind? I feel awful putting you out when you’ve already done enough for me. If I didn’t have this nagging, right here…” He touched a hand to his stomach. “Something isn’t right.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in. Now, eat your Dodgers and cheer up, birthday boy.”