as she sang to him. The baby who screamed as she pushed his buggy out of the way of the oncoming car, throwing herself in its path instead.
But I didn’t. I closed my laptop and reached into my bag for one of my anti-anxiety tablets. They would help me sleep and prepare myself for my new beginning. Hopefully they would even stop Rose from slipping into my dreams again – her face pale, her eyes now cloudy and grey.
*
My uniform fitted nicely. I found the conformity of it – the sense of belonging that came with it – comforting. Teamed with a pair of white soft leather ballet shoes and a silver name badge, I looked good. Crisp. Fresh. Professional. I still hadn’t contoured my make-up or flicked my eyeliner, but I had made more of an effort than usual.
I looked good, and more than that, I felt good. Both Donna and Owen greeted me when I arrived. Their smiles seemed warm, their welcome genuine. They introduced me to the other staff, whose names I would remember eventually. Although, to be fair, I felt like I knew some of them from their Facebook profiles already. Donna led me through to the staff canteen, showed me where everything was – the teabags, the coffee, the ladies’ loos. Then she led me to a small back room that was lined with lockers. ‘This is yours,’ she said, pointing to one right in the middle of the top row. All the others looked as if they were in use. I wondered for a second whether they were giving me Rose’s locker. I wondered whether to ask, but decided against it. Instead, I pushed my bag into the back of it and closed it, taking out the key and slipping it into my pocket.
‘Owen doesn’t like us having our phones while we’re working, but it’s fair game at break and lunch. Although, to be honest, we tend to spend more time gabbing than tweeting or Facebooking,’ Donna said.
‘Do you all eat lunch together then?’
Donna nodded. ‘Well, sort of. I mean, we have staggered lunches because we can’t all just disappear for an hour – but we do tend to have a good natter. We ring a sandwich order to the deli down the street every day at 11. You’re not obliged to join us, but they are lovely sandwiches. They do paninis, wraps, all that sort of thing. And the most delicious salads and soups.’
‘You’ve me sold,’ I smiled, imagining girly gossips over lovely food in that cosy kitchen, where a framed picture of Rose was now hung on the wall, watching over us all.
‘You’ll shadow Tori for today,’ said Donna. ‘She’s been on reception for a year – was Rose’s deputy. She’ll show you how everything works. We’ll get you a bit of time in the surgeries too, sometimes we have to pull people in from reception to help. Nothing on the squeamish side, but note taking, making sure the records are updated properly. Best to get used to working with the sound of the drill. But Tori will keep you right, show you the system out front. Explain our policies with emergency appointments, missed appointments, and regular bookings.’
She smiled the whole time she talked so it was impossible to feel overwhelmed. It all sounded doable – even working to the sound of the drill.
‘That all sounds good,’ I said, beaming without having to force it.
Owen was equally welcoming. He smiled and shook my hand, welcomed me to the ‘madhouse’, made sure I had all the logins I needed for reception, and showed me the filing system in the admin office.
‘It’s your first day. Everyone gets a get-out-of-jail-free card on their first day. So just take it easy. Don’t worry about things. Follow Tori’s lead. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, and as long as we don’t find you sucking on the nitrous oxide between appointments you’ll do great.’
He laughed and I laughed back and threw myself into my new work. I felt so light – so inspired.
Donna made sure the pair of us ate lunch together, recommending a BLT from the deli, which she told me had an extra zing thanks to a gorgeous tomato chutney they made in store. We sat at the small table, steaming cups of coffee in front of us, and she told me I had done well. ‘I’m sure you will fit right in. Owen knows how to pick good staff, you know.’ She smiled then paused, glancing up at the picture on the wall.
‘Is this awkward for you all?’ I asked softly. ‘Someone being here who isn’t Rose.’
She looked down at her sandwich, put it down and sipped from her cup.
‘Not awkward as such. Strange maybe. I never thought we wouldn’t have her here. Even when she was on maternity leave with Jack she would call in all the time. She couldn’t stay away. She’d pop in for a five-minute chat and end up offering to sort out some charts for Owen, or help out with a nervous patient. She had a way of calming them. All of us got used to nursing Jack while she did her bit, not that we complained. That baby is a dote.’
Her smile dropped at the mention of his name. I suppose she was imagining him as a poor motherless child – the baby that couldn’t understand where his mother had gone according to Cian. I reached over and rubbed her hand.
‘I can’t imagine …’ I said.
‘She loved it here too. Said we were her family. You know, she didn’t have to work – especially after Cian’s books became so successful. He wanted her to stay at home with Jack but she said we were all her family too, and while she loved him, she loved us as well. I used to tell her I’d give anything to have a husband who begged me to stay at home – provided for us …’ Her eyes filled and I gave her hand an extra squeeze. She sniffed and looked up, roughly rubbing her eyes, her perfect eyeliner smudging. ‘Yes, but we have to move on, don’t we? And God, here you are putting in a great first morning. We don’t want you to think you have to try and fill her shoes. You’re your own person and we’re happy to have you here.’
‘I understand that it’s tough. What happened to her … The shock of it must have been fierce.’
‘It was,’ she said, putting her coffee cup down and rewrapping her half-eaten lunch. She stood up. ‘It still is. Look, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and check my phone – make sure the kids’ school hasn’t been on to me. There’s always one of them forgetting their PE gear or recorder or some other such disaster. I do my best to keep on top of them but, well, I’m only one woman, and not Wonder Woman.’ She offered me a smile but it didn’t seem to reach all the way to her eyes. As she left the room she glanced again in the direction of the picture on the wall.
‘I’m my own person. I’m here on my own merits. I am doing a good job,’ I whispered to myself as I forced the last bites of the sandwich down – the zesty tomato chutney now tasting a little bitter.
As I balled up the wrapping from my sandwich, Donna came back in, and took a deep breath. ‘Look, see everything here, with Rose, with it all. It’s just … well, it’s complicated, and it’s still raw.’
‘Complicated?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She looked to the door, and back to me. ‘Look, it’s … maybe complicated is the wrong word. There’s a lot to try and make sense of is all. It gets on top of me sometimes.’
I would have asked her more, but just as I opened my mouth one of the other girls walked into the kitchen and started asking us about our day. The moment was gone, but the words would stay with me.
That night, changed into my lounge wear, my make-up removed with cleansers and toners and not my usual swipe of a baby wipe, I smiled at a friend request from Donna on my Facebook page, and when Owen sent a quick text to say he hoped my first day hadn’t been too
