that. When I …’
She didn’t want to talk about what had happened after the scan, that awful time she wanted scoured from her memory for ever. She tried again.
‘There was definitely … I definitely have pain … more on one side than the other, it’s definitely …’
‘Ssh,’ said Moray. ‘Not to worry. I’ll send you to get checked out, okay?’
There was a pause.
‘Or I could do it.’
He winked at her, and despite herself she found herself smiling.
‘Oh Moray, you hate fannies.’
‘I’m not crazy about old men’s ears either, but I seem to spend enough time peering into those.’
‘Oh GOD, and you’d have to get Maeve in to supervise. No no no no no no.’
‘It’s a waste of resources,’ said Moray.
‘No it’s not,’ said Rosie. ‘I count as a family member, practically. You’re not allowed to look up my fanny.’
‘But I so want to,’ said Moray.
‘Shut up.’
It was exactly the right way to cheer her up, and she stood up gratefully.
‘Any time.’
‘I’m going to report you to the GMC.’
Moray rolled his eyes and handed over the referral letter he’d printed out.
‘That’s right – I want to complain about that doctor who, instead of assaulting me, sent me off to some woman to check out my bits.’
He reflected.
‘They might be pleased to get something to balance up all my fan mail.’
It was true, Moray was beloved for miles around for his good looks, good doctoring, and being just about the last doctor on earth to actually do house calls.
Rosie smiled and kissed him. He winced to see the worry in her eyes.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘You’re young, fit and healthy. It’ll work out. It’s why you’d want Stephen’s grumpy babies that’s the real mystery here.’
She smiled.
‘Thanks.’
She turned round before she left, hoping to catch him in a moment of weakness.
‘So, are you and Moshe coming to dinner, then?’ Moshe was Moray’s boyfriend.
‘Are you trying to catch me in a moment of weakness?’
Rosie nodded.
‘Yes.’
Moray’s reluctance to come out to the village had surprised the more metropolitan Rosie for a long time, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. Rosie thought he was worrying unnecessarily. Moray thought people who weren’t him seemed to have all sorts of very clear ideas of what it was like to be him that he didn’t necessarily share. But they didn’t let it stand in the way of their friendship.
‘Have we or have we not just had a long conversation about keeping our relationship professional?’
‘Yes,’ said Rosie. ‘And we decided not to, remember?’
She shook the envelope at him, and for a moment both their faces became pensive once more.
‘Soon,’ said Moray, kissing her gently and waving her off with a worried look. ‘Soon. And call me …’
Rosie nodded and swallowed hard.
‘I will,’ she said. ‘I will.’
And now here she was in the clinic. It was full of bored, unhappy-looking women, many, she noticed, a great deal older than herself. The clinic dealt with a mix of private and NHS clients, but Rosie was simply there to see a gynaecologist. On the walls were arty black and white pictures of babies. Bit tasteless, she thought. Or maybe it was focusing the mind. Either way, she tried not to look at them, and listlessly leafed through an old magazine.
‘Miss Hopkins?’
Rosie couldn’t believe what a throwback she felt, but she did slightly wish they were married already. She flashed the vintage ring perhaps more obviously than she might have done otherwise.
Dr Chang was incredibly glamorous, the type of very slender thirty-something woman Rosie had once upon a time emulated. She had a put-together look, together with matching shoes and a bag, and properly blow-dried hair. Rosie felt an odd urge to impress her, but wasn’t sure how. It certainly wasn’t with this X-ray of her Fallopian tubes, which Dr Chang was examining now on the light box on the wall.
‘You see,’ said
Learning to Kill: Stories