Knight on the Children's Ward by Carol Marinelli Read Free Book Online Page A

word.
    â€˜No,’ Annika said.
    â€˜Has he asked you out?’
    â€˜Sort of,’ Annika said as she wheeled her down to the showers. ‘Just for dinner, but I said no.’
    â€˜So you’re just flirting, then!’ Elsie beamed. ‘Oh, you lucky, lucky girl. I loved flirting.’
    â€˜We’re not flirting, Elsie,’ Annika said. ‘In fact we’re now ignoring each other.’
    â€˜Why would you do that?’
    â€˜Just leave it, Elsie.’
    â€˜Flirt!’ Elsie insisted as Annika pulled her nightgown over her head. ‘Ask him out.’
    â€˜Enough, Elsie,’ Annika attempted, but it was like pulling down a book and having the whole shelf toppling down on you. Elsie was on a roll, telling herexactly what she’d have done, how the worst thing she should do was play it cool.
    On and on she went as Annika showered her, though thankfully, once Annika had popped in her teeth, Elsie’s train of thought drifted back to her beloved Bertie, to the sixty wonderful years they had shared, to shy kisses at the dance halls he had taken her to and the agony of him going to war. She talked about how you must never let the sun go down on a row, and she chatted away about Bertie, their wedding night and babies as Annika dressed her, combed her hair, and then wheeled her back to her room.
    â€˜You must miss him,’ Annika said, arranging Elsie’s table, just as she did every morning she worked there, putting her glasses within reach, her little alarm clock, and then Elsie and Bertie’s wedding photo in pride of place.
    â€˜Sometimes,’ Elsie said, and then her eyes were crystal-clear, ‘but only when I’m sane.’
    â€˜Sorry?’
    â€˜I get to relive our moments, over and over…’ Elsie smiled, and then she was gone, back to her own world, the moment of clarity over. She did not talk as Annika wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and put on her slippers.
    â€˜Enjoy it,’ Annika said to her favourite resident.
    Â 
    He had his ticket booked, and four weeks’ unpaid leave reluctantly granted. They had wanted him to take paid leave but, as Ross had pointed out, that was all saved up for his trips to Russia. This hadn’t gone down too well, and Ross had sat through a thinly veiled warning from the Head of Paediatrics—there was no such thing as apart-time consultant and, while his work overseas was admirable, there were plenty of charities here in Australia he could support.
    As he walked through the canteen that evening, the conversation played over in his mind. He could feel the tentacles of bureaucracy tightening around him. He wanted this day over, to be back at his farm, where there were no rules other than to make sure the animals were fed.
    His intention had been to get some chocolate from the vending machine, but he saw Annika, and thought it would be far more sensible to keep on walking. Instead, he bought a questionable cup of coffee from another machine and, uninvited, went over.
    â€˜Hi!’
    He didn’t ask if he could join her; he simply sat down.
    She was eating a Greek salad and had pushed all the olives to one side.
    â€˜Hello.’
    â€˜Nice apron.’ She was emblazoned with fairies and wands, and he could only laugh that she hated it so.
    â€˜It was the only one left,’ Annika said. ‘Ross, if I do write my notice—if I do give up nursing—in my letter there will be a long paragraph devoted to being made to wear aprons.’
    â€˜So you’re thinking of it?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I asked for a weekend off. There is a family function—there is no question that I don’t go. I requested it ages ago, when I found out that I would be on the children’s ward. I sent a memo, but it got lost, apparently.’
    â€˜What are you going to do?’
    â€˜Caroline has changed my late shift on Saturday toan early, and she