are seeing someone, though?’ Ben had correctly interpreted the beat of silence.
‘I was.’ Izzy had swallowed. ‘But I’m fine now.’
‘Good!’ Ben had clipped. ‘Then you won’t have a problem speaking with someone else.’
‘Ben!’ Izzy had hardly been able to contain her fury. ‘It’s been four months! You know me—’
‘Izzy!’ Ben had interrupted, refusing to be manipulated. ‘I worked with you daily, I’ve been to your home, I got on well with Henry and yet I had no idea what you were going through, so, no, I’m not convinced I do know you or that you’d come to me if you had a problem.’
Izzy had sat with pursed lips. Ben could be so incredibly kind yet so incredibly tough too—he would let nothing jeopardise the safety of his patients or his staff and he was also completely honest and open, so open it actually hurt to hear it sometimes. ‘I’ve spoken with my senior colleagues…’
‘You’ve discussed me?’
‘Of course,’ Ben had replied. ‘And we all agree that coming back to A and E after all you’ve been through is going to be tough, that we need to look out for you, and rather than us asking every five minutes if you’re okay, which I know will drive you crazy, I’m going to insist that you see someone. I can page Jess Carmichael—she’s good, all very informal, you can go for a walk, have a coffee…’
‘I’m not sitting in the canteen, chatting about my life!’ Izzy had bristled. ‘I’ll see her in her office.’
‘Fine,’ Ben had responded, and then his voice had softened. ‘We want what’s best for you Izzy’.
So here she was, on a Friday lunchtime, just before her first shift back, again sitting in a counsellor’s office, telling the same thing to Jess that she had to Ben, to her mother, to her friends, that she was fine.
Fine!
‘It’s often suggested,’ Jess said, when Izzy had told her that her house was on the market, ‘that people wait twelve months after a bereavement before making any major life changes.’
‘I’m twenty-eight weeks pregnant!’ Izzy gave a tight smile. ‘I’d suggest that change is coming whether I’m ready or not. Look…’ She relented a touch because Jess was nothing other than nice. ‘I don’t want to bring the baby home to that house—there are just too many memories. I really want a new home by the time the baby comes.’
‘I can understand that,’ Jess said. ‘Have you people to help you with moving?’
‘Plenty,’ Izzy said, ‘Now I just need someone to make a half-decent offer on the house.’
‘How will you feel—’ Jess had a lovely soft Scottish accent, but her direct words hit a very raw spot‘—when a domestic abuse case comes into the department?’
Izzy paused for a moment to show she was giving the question due thought then gave her carefully prepared answer, because she’d known this would be asked. ‘The same as I’ll feel if a pregnant woman comes into the department or a widow—I’ll have empathy for them, but I’m certainly not going to be relating everything to myself.’
‘How can you not? Izzy, you’ve been through the most awful experience,’ Jess said and even her lilting voice couldn’t soften the brutal facts. ‘You tried to end a violent, abusive relationship to protect the child you are carrying, and your husband beat you and in his temper drove off and was killed. It’s natural to feel—’
‘You have no idea how I feel,’ Izzy interrupted, doing her best to keep her voice even, a trip down memory lane was the last thing she needed today. ‘I don’t want the “poor Izzy” line and I don’t want your absolution and for you to tell me that none of this was my fault.’
‘I’m not trying to.’
‘I’ve dealt with it,’ Izzy said firmly. ‘Yes, it was awful, yes, it’s going to be hard facing everyone, but I’m ready for it. I’m ready to resume my life.’
Only Jess didn’t seem so sure, Izzy could tell. She had made such an effort for this day—she was immaculately dressed in a grey shift dress with black leggings and black ballet pumps, her blonde short hair, teased into shape, and large silver earrings adding a sparkle to her complexion. She had been hoping to look every inch a modern professional woman, who just happened to be pregnant. She would not let Jess, let anyone, see behind the wall she had built around herself—it was the only way she knew to survive.
Jess gave her some coping strategies, practised deep breathing with her, told her to reach out a bit more to friends and Izzy ran a hand through her gamine-cut blonde hair that had once been long and lush but which she’d cut in a fit of anger. Just when Izzy thought the session was over, Jess spoke again.
‘Izzy, nothing can dictate what comes into Emergency, that’s the nature of the job.’ Jess paused for a moment before continuing. ‘No matter what is going on in your life, no matter how difficult your world is right now, you have to be absolutely ready to face whatever comes through the doors. If you feel that you’d rather—’
‘Are you going to recommend that I be sent to Outpatients?’ Izzy challenged, her grey eyes glittering with tears that so desperately needed to be shed but had, for so long, been held back. ‘Or perhaps I can do a couple of months doing staff immunisations—’
‘Izzy—’ Jess broke in but Izzy would not be silenced.
‘I’m a good doctor. I would never compromise my patients’ safety. If I didn’t feel ready to face A and E, I wouldn’t have come back.’ She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Everyone seems to be waiting for me to fall apart.’ She picked up her bag and headed for the door. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you all, but I refuse to.’
Izzy was a good doctor, of that Jess had no doubt.
As she wrote her notes, she was confident, more than confident, that Izzy would do the right thing by her patients, that she was more than capable to be working in Emergency. But at what cost to herself? Jess thought, resting back in her chair and closing her eyes for a moment.
Jess wanted to send a memo to the universe to insist only gentle, easy patients graced Izzy’s path for a little while.
Only life wasn’t like.
Jess clicked on her pen and finished writing up her notes, worried for her client and wishing more progress had been made.
Izzy Bailey, while still fighting the most enormous private battle, was stepping straight back into the front line.
Chapter Two
‘OBSTETRIC Team to Emergency.’
Izzy heard the chimes as she tossed her coffee and sandwich wrapper in the bin and did a little dance at the sliding door that refused to acknowledge her, no matter how many times she swiped her card. An impatient nurse behind her took over, swiping her own card, and Izzy tailgated her in.
They’d start her in Section B.
Of that she was sure.
Writing
