‘I’m fine,’ she snapped at his shirt collar, wobbling slightly as she balanced on one heel, then flinching away from him again when he went to steady her.
Gah! That bloody word again. He swore this woman could be lit on fire and she’d still be using it.
‘Okay,’ he said, drawing out the word. ‘Is this about tomorrow?’
She nodded and her thick hair slipped over her shoulders.
‘I … I …’ She met his eyes briefly, then looked past him into his office. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Okay, well, come on in and we can have a chat.’ She hesitated; bit her lip before squaring her shoulders and moving past him into his office.
‘Hey, Dr M., how’s it hanging?’ Jamie said from his desk, smirking at Pav.
‘H-hello, Dr Grantham,’ she said, not even sparing him a glance as she hobbled into the room and then turned back towards Pav, who was now perched on his desk.
‘I’ve told you to call me Jamie.’
Dr Morrison didn’t respond to that, so Pav decided to fill the awkward silence.
‘So … Millie,’ he started, but paused as he noticed her briefly startled expression at the use of her first name. Somehow, in her present state it seemed more fitting than ‘Dr Morrison’. But Pav would have expected annoyance, not bewilderment, in reaction to his use of it. ‘How can I help you?’
She cleared her throat and focused on his computer screen. ‘I can’t do the Grand Round tomorrow. You’ll j-just have to get someone else.’
Pav sighed. ‘Listen, we’ve been through this before. I don’t know why it’s such a big problem. The Grand Round is fairly informal. It won’t take up much of your time. And it’s relevant to everyone. It’s important, Millie.’
Another flinch, this time accompanied by a small frown. Pav crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t lying. Her research – herpublishedresearch – was going to revolutionize pre-op care. Yes, okay, it was in his interest to get Millie to speak so that she would at least consider the conference. But itwasimportant stuff and itwasrelevant to everyone. To be honest he was starting to lose patience with this woman. That was why he’d scheduled her to talk at the Grand Round without consulting her. Why couldn’t she even be bothered to present it to her own hospital? The one that had helped her test and audit the bloody thing in the first place.
‘If I just forward somebody else the slides, they could present it with Anwar instead. It doesn’t have to be me, I mean –’
‘Dr Morrison,’ Pav snapped, reverting to formality, seeing as the gentle approach was not working for him, ‘as far as I’m aware you’ve never presentedanythingat a Grand Round. Don’t you think it’s about time you did?’
‘I’m not –’
‘Why can’t you spare the thirty minutes it would take, anyway?’ he asked, straightening to his full height, which was nearly a full foot taller than the woman in front of him, who had given up balancing on her one heel and sunk down to stand on her other foot. ‘Would it kill you to participate for once?’ He felt his frustration bubble up again and didn’t seem able to tamp it down. There was something about being around this woman and not having her fully acknowledge him, connect with him, that was driving Pav insane.
‘Pav, I think –’
‘Shut up a minute, Jamie.’
‘I just can’t,’ she said. ‘It’s impossible, I –’
‘It’s not impossible,’ he cut her off again. ‘You’re at work that day. Your head of department says you’ve no commitments conflicting with that time. I’m sorry but you’re just going to have to –’
‘Please,’ she whispered, meeting his eyes in her desperation, and he could have sworn that they were glassy with unshed tears. He frowned and pushed away from the desk towards her, but she stumbled back. Pav held his hands up and retreated a step to give her the space she obviously needed. She was holding her bag in front of her almost like a shield. His frown deepened as he saw that her knuckles were white from her grip on the leather.
‘Hey,’ he said, gentling his tone. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You’re –’
‘Fine,’ she cut in, her voice coming out in another bark. He watched as her eyes cleared of moisture and her expression turned cold. ‘I have to go.’ She turned towards the door. There was something so achingly vulnerable about the way she was hobbling across the room that Pav forgot her earlier reaction to him. He stepped over to intercept her before she could leave, and cupped her elbow.
‘Listen, maybe we should …’ His voice died as she wrenched her arm from his grip, stumbling again and nearly going down but gripping the door handle to steady herself. She straightened slowly, then focused back on his shirt collar.
‘I’ve got to go.’
‘I don’t think –’
Without letting him finish she pulled open the door, kicked off her shoes, snatched them up with her handbag, and ran out into the corridor. By the time Pav looked out after her she was gone.
‘That chick is weird,’ Jamie said through a smile as Pav went back to his desk to grab his wallet; he was already late for his list that afternoon.
