Pav sighed as he backed away from the door and followed the old man, who was waiting at the end of the corridor for the lift to arrive. The doors slid open and both men stepped inside.
‘I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at, young man,’ Don cut into the silence once the doors had slid closed, ‘but my advice to you would be to stay away from Millie.’ The doors opened at the ground floor. ‘Good day,’ Don clipped before he strode out into the large atrium and towards the exit.
‘Hey,’ said Pav, jogging after him (he might look at least a hundred and fifty but he moved like a teenager on crack). ‘Listen. Wait!’ He caught up with Don and met the shorter man’s quick strides with his longer ones. ‘I just … Look, I was worried about her, all right? It’s not every day a woman collapses at a Grand Round I’ve organized. And I don’t care what you say; she does need to be checked out physically. She went down like a stone. And … and you lot are making her work? Shouldn’t she have gone home? What kind of sweatshop are you running down in radiology?’
Don sighed and his power-walking slowed to more of a saunter. ‘You’re worried about her.’ It was a statement rather than a question, and Don fixed Pav with a curious stare. Pav threw up his hands and huffed out a breath.
‘Well, yes,of courseI’m worried about her. She collapsed, didn’t she? I mean, that’s enough to worry anyone.’
‘But you’re the only one spying on her, hours later, eh?’
Pav rolled his eyes and shrugged. What was the old codger getting at? Don chuckled, seeming for some reason in much better spirits than he had been a moment ago.
‘You still haven’t explained why she’s still here and why she hasn’t been examined,’ Pav gritted out as he followed Don into the multi-storey car park. They came to a stop beside a low-slung sports car. To Pav’s surprise Don beeped open the locks. He’d never seen such an incongruous pairing. Don sported elbow patches, for crying out loud. What was he doing driving around in an Aston Martin Vantage?
‘Millie is a complicated girl,’ Don said carefully. ‘She likes … she likes control, and she sets all these … limits for herself that she thinks she has to live within. Everything for her is very restricted. If she’s pushed out of her comfort zone too far, then …’ The old man trailed off and frowned down at his car keys. ‘Well, let’s just say what happened today is just the tip of the iceberg. She panicked, she hyperventilated, and, as you know from medical school, if you hyperventilate for long enough and fast enough your body will shut you down. In Millie’s mind she’d gone beyond her limits and that triggered her anxiety. The only method she has to get herself back under control is the routine of work and the techniques she’s learnt from Anwar. She’s nearly gone through the entire department backlog of reporting today, and she’ll go on until late evening. Eventually she’ll feel calm enough to go home.’
‘Jesus,’ Pav breathed, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘I didn’t realize she was so …’ He trailed off, unsure how to complete the sentence. He cringed when he thought back to how he’d treated her in the past. He’d actually taken some sort of sick pleasure from baiting her, thinking she was uptight and snooty instead of having the real problems Don was describing. ‘Okay, well, thanks for explaining all that. I’d better be –’
‘She could change, you know.’ Don cut him off as he turned to face Pav fully, narrowing his eyes at his face. ‘Millie doesn’t think she’s strong enough, but she is. She’s already achieved so much since she started with Anwar. Anyone who’s been through … well, let’s just say she’s got it in her to change, to try for happiness. All she needs is a little push.’
‘Uh …’ Pav trailed off, backing away from the car. He hadn’t realized that Millie herself had had therapy with Anwar, although when he thought about it and what an advocate she was for CBT it made perfect sense. ‘Right, well … as long as she’s okay – physically, I mean – then I guess … ’ He cleared his throat, becoming a bit uncomfortable under Don’s steely gaze. Was the old bastard expecting him to be the one to give Dr Cray-Cray the ‘push’ she needed? Turning to jog to his own car, Pav spared a quick glance and a wave over his shoulder at Don, who was now leaning against his Vantage, watching Pav’s retreat.
Whatever the old man thought, Pav was not going to get involved. He had enough on his plate, he reasoned, without adding a lost cause into the mix.
Even if his plans for presenting at the conference went up in smoke there was no way he would be able to take on someone like Dr Morrison. A sudden vision of a more dishevelled, more human-looking Millie in his office, with her hair down around her face and a blush on her cheeks, swam into his mind and he paused as he was about to pull open his car door.
She’s set limits for herself, he heard Don’s voice repeat.She could change, you know. She doesn’t think she’s strong enough, but she is …
Pav shook his head to clear it. The last thing he needed was that sort of complication.
*****
‘Okay, I’ll admit it. I was wrong.’
Pav looked up in surprise from his computer. His office door was open and in it stood a sheepish-looking Don. Pav put down the batch of CVs he was holding, grateful for the interruption. He hated paperwork. It was one of the reasons being Surgical Director was not working for him. Going through CVs for applications for his own specialty was bad enough, without adding in this shit.
‘Whilst I generally enjoy others being wrong and me being right, you’re going to have to be more specific.’
Don pushed open the door fully and shuffled into the office before sitting down heavily in the chair opposite him.
‘Please, make yourself at home,’ Pav told him with an amused smile.
Don took a deep breath. ‘She’s not getting any better,’ he said, a frown marring his forehead and worry pinching his mouth.
‘Okay,’ Pav said slowly as he sat up a little straighter and cocked his head to the side. It had been a week since the lecture theatre incident and still, even now, he found his mind wandering to Millie pretty much all the damn time. He’d done what Don had told him to do: he’d stayed away from the radiology department, away from her – but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Something about her was pulling at him constantly. Maybe it was the vulnerability he could see under that cold shell, maybe it was the way her arse looked in those bloody pencil skirts she wore constantly – whatever it was he didn’t seem to be able to control it. ‘And what does this have to do with me exactly?’
Don’s eyes flashed and his mouth turned down. ‘Boy, if you’re not interested in helping, I won’t waste my time.’ He stood up; Pav got the impression he would have jumped up and stormed out if his stiff joints had allowed. As it was, the drawn-out process involving Don pushing slowly up to standing as the sounds of the crepitis from his joints filled the room along with his low-muttered ‘Buggers’ gave Pav the opportunity he needed. He leapt to his feet and rounded the desk, blocking Don’s exit before he’d even fully straightened.
‘I’m sorry,’ Pav said, holding both hands up in a placating gesture. ‘I’m a smartarse. You’ll get used to it.’ Don’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Pav, but the corners of his mouth pulled up into a reluctant smile. ‘Please, sit down.’ Both men went back to their chairs and Pav decided to turn on the charm, unleashing his mega-watt smile on Don.
‘Save that nonsense, Stavros,’ Don said through a chuckle. ‘It’s not me you have to impress, you big peacock.’
‘Peacock?’ Pav’s smile fell a notch and he leaned back into his chair. ‘What do you – ?’
‘Pfft,’ Don said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Don’t think I haven’t seen you strutting about this hospital, rolling over everyone in your path and getting your way. Youngest in the family, were you?’
Pav shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pursed his lips. ‘I don’t think you came here to talk about me.’
