you say?’
‘Well, only one that’s actually big enough for a bed, but the other could be a nice study.’
‘You’ll need a study if you do your trauma course.’
‘The thing is, Mum—’
‘I know you want to travel…’ Rose broke in. ‘I’ve been thinking. I’ve given it a lot of thought, actually. We deserve a treat.’ As Alison opened her mouth to protest, Rose overrode her. ‘I know you’ve always wanted to go to Bali. I wouldn’t mind seeing it too. My treat,’ she said loudly as Alison tried to interrupt.
And as she lay in her single bed later on, Alison tried not to cry. She felt horribly selfish actually, because in the space of a few hours she’d found a flat and been offered a fortnight’s trip to Bali. It was just.
The first year after the accident she’d taken her mum for weekends away, she and Paul had taken her for a holiday once too, with Alison sharing a room with her mum. Then last year they’d been to Queensland for a week—her mum saying all the time how much her father and brother would have liked it.
She ripped back the sheet, and almost ran to the window.
There were no bay views from her bedroom but there was the distant roar of the ocean as she pushed the window open and gulped in the cool night air. And there were the sounds of the bars and the backpackers and youth and fun, and she was tempted to run down in her nightdress, tempted to find what ever bar Nick was in, to rush up to him and kiss his face off, to take him by the hand and dance and dance, to come back at dawn without sending her mother a text.
To be free.
‘YAY!’ The whole staffroom cheered when a beaming Alison revealed her news as she walked into her late shift.
She’d soon got over herself—a brisk walk on the beach at the crack of dawn and a stern talk with herself had turned things round in her head. Then, at nine a.m. she’d rung the real estate agent, at nine-forty she’d been at the bank, at nine fifty-five she’d handed the deposit over and signed a mountain of forms, and now, at midday, she almost had a mortgage.
‘Congratulations.’ Nick pulled her aside the first chance he got. It had been a busy afternoon and Alison had been working the paediatric cots while Nick had been in Resus, but as she came back from her coffee break, he was just heading off for his.
‘Thanks!’ Alison said. ‘It’s pretty exciting.’
‘How about dinner,’ Nick offered, ‘to celebrate?’ And when she paused, when she didn’t just jump in and say yes, Nick upped the offer. ‘With lots of garlic bread.’
‘Why?’ He didn’t understand the hurt in her eyes, he didn’t really understand the question. ‘Why would we go out for dinner?’
‘Because you want to?’ Nick said, because he was sure that she did. ‘Because I want to? ‘
‘I don’t…’ Her voice trailed off, and her words hung in the air, the wrong words because she did want to, very much. She had been about to say that she didn’t see the point in pursuing this, except when he was around she did see the point—he was nice and funny and whatever attraction was, it was there, for both of them.
‘I’m not sure.’ She changed tack, headed for safer ground, used a method far safer than exposing her heart. ‘What with work and everything.’
Nick could have pointed out that it was just dinner, that, given they’d been out on Friday, clearly work colleagues did meet up outside the walls of Emergency. Except it wasn’t just dinner and it wasn’t the emergency crew he wanted to see more of out of hours—it was her. And, yes, he was bending his own rules, but it was, after all, just for a short while and even if it was work, it was still a holiday. He wasn’t asking for for ever, he wasn’t threatening to run away with her heart, he just wanted more of the smile that sometimes brightened her serious face, wanted more of the woman he was getting to know.
‘We could keep it quiet.’ He ran a hand through his hair as he renegotiated his own boundaries.
‘Sounds good.’
And those words were the bravest she’d uttered.
‘About ten?’ Nick said, and her smile disappeared when she realised he meant tonight, that his impulsive world was invading hers. ‘Ten-thirty?’ he said, and named a nice bar. ‘I’ll pick you up.’ And she thought of her mother and shook her head at the image.
‘Ten-thirty’s great.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’ll meet you there.’
Thankfully, she was kept almost busy enough not to be nervous. It wasn’t a date, she kept telling herself, it was just friends going out for a couple hours. She managed not to think about it, especially when dealing with a very restless baby and an extremely anxious mum.
‘She’s putting on weight.’ Lucia, the paediatric intern, was thorough and nice and doing her best to reassure Shelly, the mother of an eight-week-old. ‘I know reflux babies are hard, but you are doing everything right.’ And she went through all the medications and thickeners that little Casey was on, and checked that she was being positioned properly.
‘She won’t settle, though,’ Shelly said. ‘She hardly goes two hours.’
‘That’s why my registrar suggested you look at the mother and baby day clinic,’ Lucia said. ‘She’s well, though.’ Despite everything, the baby was well. There were no signs of dehydration, her nappies were wet, her obs were normal—she was just a very fussy baby. ‘You’ve got an appointment coming up with the paediatrician…’ Her pager was going off, her registrar had already looked over the baby and deemed little Casey well enough to go home, and there was only one paediatric bed left to last the night. Lucia was only checking her over again because the mother was still concerned, and despite Lucia’s reassurances, as she said goodbye Alison knew Shelly wasn’t reassured. Neither was she, though her concern wasn’t just for the baby. She could see Shelly’s shaking hands as she did up the poppers on her baby’s little outfit, saw that despite the baby screaming, Shelly said nothing to soothe her, just wrapped her up and put her in her little car seat, without a word, without a cuddle. There was no malice in her actions. She was just a mother very close to the edge.
‘Amy saw this baby and handed her over to Paeds.’ She handed Nick the notes. ‘Amy’s gone home and Paeds have seen the baby and they’re happy to discharge. I’m just concerned…’ She waited as he read through the notes, waited for him to roll his eyes, or sigh, or say ‘I’ll get to it,’ but instead he listened as Alison voiced her concerns and he read easily between the lines. ‘Lucia did suggest the day clinic to sort out her sleeping pattern.’
‘What did Mum say to that?’
‘She agreed to it, but there’s normally a two-week wait.’
‘Do you think she’s depressed?’
‘I’m sure she is,’ Alison said, ‘just not enough for an urgent admission. And frankly I’d be feeling depressed. I tried feeding her and it was hard work.’
‘Okay.’
