href="#ud1536f70-b2cd-573b-9ca5-ae541f7564c4">Cover
‘HURRY UP, RILEY. It’s your round.’ The hard slap on the shoulder nearly ejected him from his chair. Riley laughed and turned around. Frank Cairney, one of the rehab nurses, was standing with his rucksack on his shoulder. The rest of the team were hovering outside near the door. ‘Should I go and hold up the bar for us?’
Riley nodded. ‘Just a few notes to finish and I’ll be there. Thanks, guys.’
He typed quickly on the electronic record, leaving detailed notes on the plan for Jake Ashford, a soldier injured on duty in Afghanistan and now a resident in the army rehab hospital at Waterloo Court.
It was late afternoon on a Friday. Those who could go home had gone home. But some patients wouldn’t be able to go home for some time—Jake was one of those.
Working in the rehab hospital hadn’t really been on Riley’s career plan. But, due to a family crisis, a fellow colleague hadn’t been able to start when he should have, meaning the hospital needed someone to fill in. Riley’s surgical experience in orthopaedics had been flagged and his deployment had been delayed on a temporary basis for a few weeks.
But today was his last shift. And truth was he was relieved. The staff and support team at Waterloo Court were fantastic, as were the world-class rehab services, but Riley liked the pace of emergencies. On Monday he’d be in Sierra Leone, where another outbreak of Ebola seemed to be emerging.
He finished his notes and walked down the corridor to the in-patient beds. He heard the laughter before he saw her familiar frame.
April Henderson had Jake sitting at the side of his bed. Laughing. Really laughing, as if she’d just told him the funniest joke in the world.
Even from here he knew exactly what she was doing—testing Jake’s sitting balance. She was one of the best physiotherapists he’d ever worked with.
She was tireless. She was relentless. She was polite. She was professional.
He’d caught himself on more than one occasion watching that blonde ponytail swishing up the corridor in front of him as she made her way between the ninety patients that were housed in the state-of-the-art unit.
But even now—four weeks later—he really didn’t know a thing about her.
April was the quietest co-worker he’d ever met. Every conversation, every communication had been about their patients. When he asked her about life, what she was doing at the weekend or anything other than work she just shut down.
He’d asked other staff a few questions about her, but no one really said much. Apparently she wasn’t married and hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend. The staff here were a mixture of military and civilian. April was civilian. She’d transferred to the new unit at Waterloo Court. The centre dealt with serious musculoskeletal injuries, neurological injuries and complex trauma, including amputees. The brand-new facility was four times bigger than its predecessor. There were gyms, full of cardiovascular and resistance equipment, two swimming pools, a hydrotherapy pool and a specialist centre where artificial limbs were manufactured on-site and individually tailored to the patients’ needs.
‘Doc?’ Jake caught his eye.
Riley crossed the room, holding out his hand. ‘I came to say goodbye.’ He paused for a second. ‘I’m shipping out again tomorrow.’ He had to be truthful, but he could see the momentary pang in the young man’s eyes. Jake loved the army. Had wanted to serve since he was five. And now, at the grand old age of twenty-three, would be unlikely to ever ship out again.
Jake took Riley’s extended hand. ‘Good luck, Doc—it’s been short and sweet. Where are you headed?’
Riley gave a shrug. ‘At the moment, I think it’s Africa. But you know how things can change. By the time Monday comes around it could be somewhere else completely.’
He glanced down at April, who was leaning against a stool at the side of the bed. ‘Are you coming to the farewell drinks, April?’
It was obvious he’d caught her off guard because two tiny pink spots flared in her cheeks and she stumbled over her words. ‘Wh-what?
