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the next four weeks, and normally she wouldn’t have given them thought. Except today, she scanned the sheet and saw the absence of Nick’s name, saw that Cort Mason was, in fact, coming back, and it just rammed home the truth. There it was, in black and white, as if she needed reminding, that in just a few days Nick Roberts would be gone.

      ‘She apologises.’ Nick came over to make a phone call. ‘She’s going to say it herself—’ ‘There’s no need.’

      She was close to tears all of a sudden but was determined not to let him see. ‘Libby’s gone over to Outpatients to try and find them—he was there last week.’

      ‘He should have been admitted last week,’ Nick said, and then, a little more tactfully, he told the voice on the end of the phone the same thing, and as Alison went to go he caught her wrist, which was the most physical he had ever been at work and the only contact in days. And she couldn’t bear it, yet she took it, waited as he concluded his call, Nick doodling on the hateful rosters as he spoke on the phone.

      ‘They’re going to admit him.’ He gave her the details and then there was just a slight frown as he looked her over and she didn’t like his scrutiny.

      ‘Are you really okay?’

      ‘I’ll get over you, Nick, don’t worry.’ She didn’t turn round, because for the first time since his arrival, the first time in years in fact, there were tears, not just in her eyes but trickling down her cheeks, and Alison fled to the toilets, blew her nose and told herself she was being stupid, told herself she’d warned herself that this would happen.

      ‘Alison?’ Ellie was just dashing in before the start of her late shift, the surprise evident in her voice at catching her friend less than strong, because over the years she’d never seen her cry. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘I’m tired,’ she admitted, because suddenly she was. ‘And there’s this poor man, he’s been shoved from pillar to post. He’s been here since two this morning and we’ve only just found him a bed, his daughter just went off at me—’

      ‘I know,’ Ellie said, because anyone who worked in Emergency did know that families sometimes took out their frustration on the closest target, and even if Vivienne hadn’t been that bad, some days it just hurt.

      ‘All okay?’ Sheila, the NUM, came in then and Alison even managed a wry smile that her escape to the loos had become so public and made a little note to herself not to go into meltdown till she was safely in a cubicle.

      ‘A relative upset her,’ Ellie explained.

      ‘It’s not just that,’ Alison admitted. ‘I don’t feel so great.’

      ‘You don’t look so great,’ Sheila said, and because it was Alison, who was always stoic, she knew it wasn’t an excuse. ‘Why don’t you take a half-day? What are you on tomorrow?’

      ‘An early.’

      ‘Go home.’ Sheila was firm and fair and knew how hard her staff worked. ‘If you don’t feel any better this evening, give us a call so we can arrange cover tomorrow.’

      Alison felt more than a little guilty as she collected her bag, because even if she was tired and teary, there was another reason for it. The bus took for ever, it just crawled along and stopped at every stop. Maybe she was more than tired, she decided, trudging up the street to her house. Maybe she was getting the flu or something.

      It was Tuesday, because the house smelt like beef stroganoff as she entered, though it smelt stronger today. Alison headed for her room, but the smell was in there too, permeating the whole house. She opened a window, swallowing a couple of times, and then fled to the loo, which was thankfully a lot quieter than the one at work.

      ‘No.’

      She actually said it out loud as she headed back to the bedroom, climbed into bed and very deliberately blocked that thought, and blocked it again when her mum came home and Alison had to fly back to the bathroom again.

      ‘I think I’ve got gastro,’ Alison said, and there were benefits to living at home, because she got some water, then tea and toast all brought to her, and her mum rang up Sheila to say that she wasn’t well and wouldn’t be in tomorrow.

       You okay? I heard you were sick.

      She read his text at ten p.m. and didn’t reply.

      Just turned on her side and tried to get to sleep.

      She truly didn’t know what to say.

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      ‘YOU look terrible.’ Ellie breezed into her bedroom on her way to a late shift. ‘Or are you just not wearing mascara?’

      ‘Both.’ Alison tried to smile.

      ‘Alison…’ Ellie was tentative for once. ‘I can see that you and Nick.well, you both look pretty miserable.’ As quiet as they’d kept it, of course Ellie knew. ‘I’m assuming it’s over?’

      ‘It was always going to be.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Ellie said. ‘I feel like I pushed you into it…’

      ‘I pushed myself into it,’ Alison admitted.

      ‘You can talk to me.’

      ‘I know,’ Alison said. ‘Just not yet.’

      ‘It’s his leaving do on Friday. I just thought I should warn you…’

      ‘I’m on days off Thursday and Friday,’ Alison said, ‘and I’m off sick today. I won’t be seeing him again.’

      And that was hard to say, let alone admit, and she couldn’t really talk about it with Ellie—they were just different personalities, Ellie so light and breezy, she herself so serious. She’d been a fool to think she could do a relationship any other way. Surprisingly it was Rose who bought comfort, bringing her in some lunch and sitting on the bed for a while.

      ‘I went and saw Anna,’ Rose said, ‘that grief counsellor…’ The bite of scrambled egg stilled in her mouth as Rose spoke on. ‘I was shocked by what happened, that I could hit you…’ She started to cry a bit and Alison held her hand. ‘I already had Tim by the time I was your age—and despite what I told your father, what I’ve told myself enough over the years, he wasn’t actually my first.’

      Alison was shocked, especially when Rose continued.

      ‘Or my second.’

      ‘Enough information!’ Alison smiled.

      ‘I’ve been holding you back for my own selfish reasons and you’ve been a wonderful daughter, Alison. but you need your life too.’ And she told her what Nick had. ‘You’re holding back too.’

      ‘No.’ Alison shook her head and Rose, as she often did, rammed home her point. ‘What’s happening with Nick?’

      ‘He leaves on Sunday,’ Alison said. ‘We had a bit of a row.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He offered to fly me out to Asia—do some travelling with him, just for a few weeks. It’s not that simple, though.’

      ‘Can you afford it?’ Rose asked, and Alison was so proud of how she was trying—so relieved to have such a long-awaited real conversation with her mum.

      ‘He offered to pay,’ Alison said. ‘It should be cheap—he’s going right off the beaten track…’

      ‘You’d need some immunisations…’

      Alison shook her head. ‘It’s not the money, Mum. I don’t want to feel like this again in a few weeks. I just want it over with, I just want him gone.’ And she couldn’t even cry because she wanted to be sick, which she was, dashing across the hall and just making it to the loo as Rose stood outside,

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