to look as if the only thing I was concentrating on was my work.
‘It was nice to see him,’ Tori said.
‘Yes,’ Donna said. ‘Look, girls, could you make sure Jack sees Sarah and not Owen the day of his appointment?’
‘Are you sure?’ Tori asked, and I looked over to them. Sarah, an old school dentist in her late fifties, worked with us part-time, and normally she didn’t work with the younger children.
‘Yes,’ Donna said. ‘I’m sure.’
Again, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was off about the whole situation.
Of course I had decided to leave my car at home that day, it hadn’t been raining that morning and it was often quicker and easier to walk to Shipquay Street than to try and beat the morning traffic from Northland Road. So by the time I got home that evening, I was soaked to the skin. There was nothing for it but to strip off and stand under a hot shower until I warmed up. I had dressed in my pyjamas, wrapped my hair in a towel and was staring into a mug of milky tea when I heard my phone ping with a notification. Hoping it was Maud texting to see if I needed to chat – because I really did feel as if I needed to chat – I lifted my phone and unlocked the screen.
I swear I thought my heart would stop beating when I saw a message request from Cian Grahame.
*
I stared at the name in front of me. The icon beside his name was the same profile picture I had been looking at for the better part of the last two months. It was him. Actually him. The last person on earth I ever thought would message me.
I threw my phone onto the cushion beside me as if it were suddenly too hot to hold. Cian Grahame was messaging me. I wanted to both read the message and not read the message. I was simultaneously curious and scared. Intrigued and freaked out. I involuntarily muttered a quick ‘fuck’ and lifted my phone again, turning it round and clicking the accept message button so that his words popped up in front of me.
Emily,
I just wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed me when I came to the surgery with Jack today – and to apologise for the manner in which I spoke to you. Especially when I first arrived at Scott’s. I know you understand how hard this is for me – and I appreciate that you listened while I ranted and raged in the staff room after. People, they don’t always listen. Not really. Grief gets tired for other people pretty quickly. But you listened – and you listened without prejudice. As an outsider – someone who could perhaps give me a bit of a healthier perspective on things.
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