Dear Doctor, page 12
But maybe they could help with her other problem. The boinging one.
She prodded her fork into a prawn sitting atop her seafood pizza and with a sigh continued her confession.
‘You see, I’ve got this achy kind of feeling in my stomach—a real physical disturbance if you can believe that—and I’m sure it’s to do with wanting more than I’ve got, which, when you think about it, is everything I should want. I mean, I’ve got a job I love, two degrees, a career I can adapt so I have plenty of variety, and all of a sudden I’m going mushy over wedding dresses, over Gabi being pregnant—and, most terrifying of all, saying yes to the first man who asks me to marry him.’
She took her fork out of the prawn and speared a piece of calamari instead, then added, ‘Even if I did say no later.’
‘For someone with two degrees, one of which is psychology, you don’t have many insights into your own problem,’ Alana said.
She winked at Gabi, who was tucking into her vegetarian lasagne with obvious enjoyment.
‘Which is?’ Kirsten demanded, cross because they were both amused at her expense but, in her heart of hearts, not really blaming them. She’d be amused herself if it hadn’t been her in this predicament.
‘Nesting syndrome.’
Alana echoed her own instinctive thought when she’d heard the ‘boing’ earlier.
‘Damn! Do you think it could be? Do you think such a thing exists?’
‘Not in psychological literature obviously,’ Gabi teased. ‘But out of the textbooks and into real life—I think it does. Hell, you’re the one who’s always doing the quizzes—haven’t you done the ones that ask, “Are you ready to marry and settle down? Score each answer one with a four, answer two with a three”, etcetera.’
Kirsten ate the calamari, pondering as she chewed.
‘You know, I don’t think I have,’ she admitted. ‘I usually do the ones about “Finding Mr Right” and “Who’ll be your perfect match?” or “Is your man ready for commitment?”.’
‘And does Josh Phillips ever meet any of their criteria?’
Kirsten sighed—she seemed to be sighing all the time these days.
‘He comes out as Mr Wrong every time,’ she admitted sadly, still playing with her food while the other two tackled theirs with gusto. ‘While as far as the commitment ones go, he wouldn’t even score, so I don’t bother trying those where he’s concerned.’
‘We’re wandering off track,’ Alana said. ‘Which is your internal problems. If your body thinks it’s time to start getting serious about becoming one of a couple, then mother of a burgeoning family, I’d say you should go with it. Bodies often know what’s best for us, and we don’t listen to them nearly enough.’
‘This from a woman who’s dating a pregnant guinea pig,’ Kirsten scoffed, but only because Alana’s words had been even more unsettling than the clock business earlier.
‘But how?’
Gabi asked the question Kirsten should have asked.
‘I mean,’ Gabi continued, ‘how do you go about it? With me and Alex, it just happened—we were sitting beside each other in one of the first lectures we had at uni, and it went from there. But in Kirsten’s case, she’s just knocked back one, even if I do say so myself, perfectly good offer of marriage, and the man she’d really like to marry—or thinks she’d like to marry—is off-limits for reasons we all know too well, so where does that leave her? Hanging around singles’ bars? We’ve all done that from time to time over the past year when I was single with you, and we always ended up coming home together, pulling the men we had met to pieces on the way.’
‘Only because they were usually all losers,’ Kirsten reminded her. ‘Remember the one who told Alana he had his pet ferret down his trousers and wanted to show it to her?’
‘You attracted your share of weird types, but I won’t dignify this conversation by mentioning them.’ Alana glared at her, then brightened perceptibly. ‘What about the internet?’ she asked. ‘Rarely a day goes by without one of us hearing a story about someone who’s met her perfect match on the net.’
‘And one or other of the so-called perfect couple is usually married to someone else at the time,’ Kirsten said gloomily. ‘It’s like a disease. Where’s the sanctity of marriage? Worse, why am I even contemplating it?’
‘Consider it as purely anti-emetic,’ Alana said in a kindly tone. ‘To stop the problem with your stomach. Now, how do we find out what’s the best internet dating service?’
‘We find out?’ Kirsten echoed faintly. This was getting out of hand, and she really didn’t want to find anyone right now. Not when she had the ‘fling’ to attend to first.
Maybe after that she’d be able to consider other men…
‘Of course we,’ Alana responded. ‘Do you think we’re going to let you have all the fun?’ She grinned at Kirsten. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘if it works for you I might try it myself.’
They finished their meal, and while Gabi excused herself because she was expecting a call from Alex, Kirsten and Alana headed for Kirsten’s flat where Alana, bulldozing over Kirsten’s protests, started a search for dating agencies.
‘Profile. We need a profile of you.’
Alana, reading from the screen, pointed out this necessity.
‘That’s easy. Height, weight, colouring and profession—that’s enough, isn’t it?’
‘No way. You’ve got to make yourself sound fantastic—really interesting. I’ll do it.’
So while Alana worked the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper, to construct the perfect profile for Kirsten— ‘luscious curvaceous redhead, fond of games’ was deleted as fast as it was offered—Kirsten checked her emails.
‘So, who’s Matt? And why are we looking for a man for you if you already have a Matt asking you to dinner?’
Alana, obviously bored with the profile, was now reading over Kirsten’s shoulder.
‘It’s work,’ Kirsten said. ‘He wants to talk about a computer program he’s setting up for the isolation rooms on the ward.’
‘So?’ Alana demanded. ‘He’s a man, isn’t he? If you’re getting Josh out of your life, you have to start somewhere.’
‘He’s Josh’s cousin so that won’t wash.’
Alana’s eyes lit up.
‘Won’t wash! Girl, it’s ideal. This might come with illuminating brilliance to you, but you’re not actually over Josh. And, roll of drums, newsflash, you might never be! You’re not the slightest bit interested in finding someone else—look who’s working on your profile here! No, Josh is the man for you, and though, for whatever feeble reason, he’s not playing, you can’t say the man’s not interested.’
She paused for breath, which was when Kirsten should probably have told her about the fling, but before she’d plucked up the courage, Alana continued.
‘So, what we need is a plan. It’s a good thing Gabi isn’t here, as she has more conscience than you and I, so she might have felt obliged to make the odd petty objection. But going out with his cousin is a very good start. Is he good-looking, the cousin? If so, perhaps you could ask him to bring his cousin Josh as a blind date for your friend—me—and then I could take Matt off your hands and you’d end up with Josh.’
‘But you’d only take Matt off my hands if he’s good-looking?’ Kirsten shook her head. ‘You call that friendship? A plan?’
‘I’m just thinking out loud,’ Alana said, trying for offended dignity but missing by a mile. ‘But going out with his cousin still has possibilities. I don’t suppose you’d consider throwing yourself in front of his car?’
‘Stop!’ Kirsten held up her hand. ‘Now, start over. How is my going out with Matt going to help anything? While as for throwing myself in front of his car, I don’t even know what he drives, and having two broken legs and probably head injuries isn’t exactly what we’re aiming for here.’
‘I don’t mean Matt’s car, you goose. I’m talking about Josh’s wonderful machine—and you wouldn’t have to throw yourself right into its path, maybe just let it bump you. He’d rush to pick you up, hold you in his arms, and—nearly losing you—would realise how much he loves you.’
Alana started making kissy, smoochy noises, and Kirsten found herself grinding her teeth with the frustration of not biting one of her best friends.
With that option ruled out—after all, she hadn’t really bitten anyone since kindergarten and then had been smacked quite hard—she had to content herself with a firm ‘No’.
This was obviously the time to tell Alana that the ‘holding in his arms’ bit was already organised—it would be an essential part of the fling—but that the love realisation wasn’t part of the arrangement.
Only she wasn’t sure enough about anything to mention it just yet, and anyway Alana was talking again…
‘It was only an idea, but I’ll admit not one of my best. But as nothing else seems to be on offer, we’ll have to stick with Matt,’ she said. ‘Going out with him is a good start to your new life. Answer the email—ask him where and when.’
Kirsten hesitated, not at all happy about the thought of an evening alone with Matt. But they did need to discuss the program—and maybe she could talk to him about computer programming in general and find out what courses would be available—something new to learn…
‘Now!’ Alana ordered. ‘Answer him now, and pray he’s online so he can e-mail back straight away with the name of a restaurant.’
‘Why does that matter?’ Kirsten asked, as she typed in a reply and sent it winging through cyberspace. She was confused but not overly suspicious about the level of Alana’s interest.
Which was a good thing, because all she got by way of an answer was a look of disbelief.
‘Surely you know why.’ Alana shook her head in shock at such ignorance. ‘There’s a world of meaning in choice of restaurants. La Fenice is so upmarket and intimate it’s proposal stuff, so I doubt he’d take you there for a first date.’
She ignored Kirsten’s interjection of, ‘It’s not a date.’
‘Rusillo’s is good. It’s a “let’s eat together and see if we might get on—if we laugh at the same things, find common ground” kind of place. But it’s expensive so it’s one up on Mickey’s where you could do the same thing but not as seriously. The Blue Room—well, even you must know it’s the ultimate seduction venue. Piano bar, moody music, dim lights gleaming off white damask and silver candlesticks, selectively placed greenery to ensure each table’s privacy. I’ve often wondered why they don’t have rooms available upstairs so guests who get too hot for each other could repair there rather than go all the way home.’
‘Y-you’ve got to be j-joking!’ Kirsten stuttered. ‘This can’t be true. I went to The Blue Room with my psych mentor!’
Alana smiled indulgently.
‘The one who spent the entire year trying to get you into his bed?’
Oh!
‘How do you know all this?’ Rather than admit that Alana might have a point as far as that particular male was concerned, Kirsten went on the attack.
Alana grinned at her.
‘I did have a social life once upon a time,’ she said. ‘I’ve been to all of them and eventually one of the hopefuls, realising we’d make better friends than lovers, explained it to me. It’s like a code—comes out in the guys’ handbook, or maybe they write it up on the wall in those last bastions of the male—football locker rooms.’
‘So what happened to it?’
‘To football locker rooms? Writing on the walls?’ Alana looked as perplexed as she sounded.
’To your social life?’ Kirsten said, when that part of Alana’s conversation struck her as odder than all the rest. ‘You said you did have one once.’
Alana smiled, then chuckled in the sexy way she had which had often made Kirsten wonder why she didn’t have a man in her life.
‘I got tired of it all. None of them clicked, nothing happened. No lights flashing, no pulses racing, no stomach upheavals—nothing. And in the end I decided it was all taking up too much time. I made a conscious decision to stop looking and get on with the rest of my life, do the things I wanted to do. I love going to clubs but that’s for the dancing, not a manhunt, and I go to the theatre because I love that too, and it totally relaxes me. I’ve got my animals, I love my job, and if a man happens to turn up in my life, well, that’s OK, but if not, then that’s OK as well.’
Kirsten absorbed all this, amazed she was still finding out things about Alana, then she grinned.
‘If one happens to turn up?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t suppose the person who bought the season ticket next to you at the theatre then handed it back in, once subscriptions had closed, was one Alana Wright?’
‘As if I would!’ Alana retorted, but Kirsten still wondered. There were times when the highly practical and organised and together Alana showed very romantic tendencies!
But before she could push further, Alana was all business again.
‘Come on, check your emails again. See if Matt’s replied.’
He had.
Great. I’ll see if I can get a table at The Blue Room tomorrow. I heard it had been booked out for a wedding party, but that’s been called off so we should be right. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty if that’s all right with you.
Kirsten stared at the message in dismay.
‘I can’t go to The Blue Room with Matt now you’ve told me what it means,’ she wailed.
‘Of course you can,’ Alana told her. ‘You’d have gone if I hadn’t told you, and if he’s the kind of man you say he is, you’d have trouble with him coming on too strong wherever you go. So go for the food—which you must admit is heavenly. Have a piece of the chocolate macadamia torte for me.’
Alana’s confidence and enthusiasm were so strong Kirsten found herself weakly replying to the message, assuring Matt she’d be ready for him at seven-thirty.
‘You could have asked him to come earlier and have a drink,’ Alana told her, but Kirsten shook her head. Going out with Matt was purely business, but it was also good practice for going out with other men after she’d finished the fling—should they ever find time for it.
Alana’s motivation for pushing her into this date was obviously to make Josh jealous, but that wouldn’t work because the man didn’t care about her anyway.
Not beyond the physical attraction which would be taken care of before too long, anyway.
Neither would he know about the date, so how could he possibly be jealous?
CHAPTER NINE
WAKING early next morning, Kirsten’s first thoughts were for little Jack Webster. How was he doing? How would the irradiation have affected him? How were his parents coping?
Realising it would occupy her mind until she knew, she got up, showered, pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with a vivid parrot splashed across the front and headed for the hospital.
Once outside, the lack of traffic on the streets, the unearthly kind of quiet, made her check the time.
‘Six o’clock! You’re up at six o’clock on a Saturday morning?’
Her cries of disbelief echoed back to her, while the horror of it had her gasping, but little Jack had been with her in her dreams and she had to see him. She walked on towards the hospital but stopped at a small café half a block away. It was always open early to catch night staff coming off duty.
One or other of Jack’s parents had probably been up all night with him, and though they would have been offered hospital tea, coffee and snacks, the institutional food was generally unappealing.
She’d take them a treat.
Inside the café, the smell of freshly ground beans mingled with the delicious smell of baking—sugary baking. Kirsten ordered three coffees—a cappuccino, latte and one black. She could take her coffee any way, and this way she could offer the Websters a choice. While this was being prepared she surveyed the delicacies on offer, settling eventually on a mix of croissants, doughnuts, friands and muffins.
With it all packed in an open box, she set off again, entering the hospital through the main entrance which had automatic doors and so was easier for someone balancing three coffees and food.
Up on the sixth floor she stopped briefly to ask a nurse going off duty if she knew how Jack was doing, but the woman had been in 6B, the children’s orthopaedic ward, and hadn’t heard.
Kirsten proceeded on her way, setting her box down on the desk at the nurses’ station and smacking at the grasping hands reaching out for her goodies.
‘They’re for the Websters,’ she said firmly. ‘I thought they’d probably had a rough night.’
All the nurses nodded, and most went back to the jobs they’d been doing when Kirsten had walked in. Annie, the staff nurse in charge, remained and she nodded soberly.
‘But there’s so much worse to come, not so much in terms of him being sicker but certainly in terms of time. He’s going to be sick like this for weeks.’
Kirsten nodded.
‘Now’s bad because although he’d been sick before during the treatment, they probably didn’t realise just how much worse he’d get with the higher dosage of drugs and radiation. Once they get used to it, it might get easier.’
Annie didn’t look convinced.
‘I just find it hard to handle the fact that we have to make him so sick. I mean, we’re doing it deliberately.’
‘But only in an attempt to ultimately save his life,’ Kirsten reminded her. She might have sounded hopeful but Annie’s concern had left a hard, cold lump in her chest. Fortunately, before she could get too upset, she remembered the coffee, and with the excuse that it would get cold she lifted her box and moved across the ward, winking at children who were awake and finally coming to the room where Jack was isolated.
She set down her box on a small table outside the room, then peered through the glass, her heart apparently recognising Josh a split second before her eyes if the rapid acceleration of beats was any indication.
He was talking to Mrs Webster but, perhaps sensing Kirsten’s presence, he glanced up, saw her and frowned.
