The Nurse by J. Corrigan (list of ebook readers txt) 📕

pushes away a pile of notes with his heel, managing to spill lukewarm tea down his clean shirt at the wrong end of the day. Since his visit to see Rose the day before, neither she nor Daniel Deane has been far from his mind. Abe’s parents made no appearance at the hearing, which was understandable to Theo then, before he knew about Daniel and Rose’s relationship. Not so much now. He should be requesting an interview with Abe’s father, but Rose told him not to. He’ll hold fire.

This story is truly a gift, and a way out of his crippling debt, or at least it was until he actually met Rose, because now he isn’t sure he can write it with the hints of salaciousness he suspects his editor will want.

He gulps back the dregs of sugar-laden tea and puts the mug on his desk, then picks up the fledgling first pages of Rose and Abe’s story. He’s already made a start, with a dog-eared copy of Capote’s In Cold Blood never far away. Using the information he gleaned from his initial Skype call with Natasha, he’s begun with a snapshot of the victim’s life, mirroring Capote’s technique.

Good writers borrow, great writers steal; so said T.S. Eliot. So Theo doesn’t feel too bad.

He’s meeting Natasha for the first time in person later today, at the Premier Inn in Euston. She has an appointment with an editor tomorrow in Russell Square to finalise a deal for a children’s book, and so their meeting fits in perfectly. He hasn’t shared this plan with Rose – it didn’t feel like the right time or place – but at least he’s been honest about the fact that he and Natasha have been in touch.

He drops the pages back onto the desk, and his mind cuts away from Rose momentarily, his eyes finding the place they often do when guilt jabs at him. A single framed photograph of Elliot, taken a few days after his fifteenth birthday, four years ago, sitting on his brand-new bike and only months away from never sitting on a bike again. He leans forward and touches the glass with the pad of his index finger. A film of dust shimmers in the bleak early-morning light of the study, and he turns his head, desperate to get away. It is always the way. He wants to look at his son but doesn’t want to feel the pain. He puts the photo in a drawer and kicks the filing cabinet back underneath his desk, allowing Elliot’s memory to trickle into the deepest recesses of his mind. Best that way, most of the time.

Looking at the clock, he jumps from his chair. ‘Shit.’

The taxi is due in half an hour to take him to Manchester Piccadilly station to catch the train to London, and he hasn’t packed a bag.

12

The train gets into Euston fifteen minutes earlier than its scheduled arrival, and with only a rucksack to carry, Theo walks to the hotel. At exactly 6.30 p.m., he’s ordering a Budweiser. He downs it in one.

‘Thirsty?’ the girl behind the bar says with a grin.

‘A little. I’ll have another. Thanks.’ He places a generous tip next to the empty bottle.

He is finishing the second when his mobile sounds an incoming text.

I’m in the bar at the Premier.

He swivels around and sees Natasha waving; she’s not smiling exactly, but is close to it. How could you smile again after what she’s been through? Because she has Mia. He wonders if she’s brought her young daughter to the UK with her. Maybe not; Natasha doesn’t strike him as the sort of woman who’d leave a child asleep alone in a Premier Inn bedroom.

He propels himself off the stool and makes his way over.

‘Natasha. It’s really good to meet you. Can I get you a drink?’

‘I’d love a Bloody Mary. Make the most of Mia not being with me.’ Now she does smile.

He nods, returns to the bar, orders and then makes his way back. ‘Is Mia staying with a friend?’ he asks, aware from their Skype conversations that it’s unlikely the little girl will be with Natasha’s parents.

The bartender comes over and places the drink in front of her.

‘Thank you,’ Natasha says, and then looks at Theo. ‘My sister’s looking after her.’

‘Your parents haven’t come around? Even after…’

‘Not quite, although I’m sure they will. But I won’t be waiting. They say that what happened to Abe is God’s revenge.’ She unbuttons her sheer black boyfriend cardigan. ‘All bad things are down to God’s revenge according to my parents.’ Her tight smile indicates what she thinks of God. Theo thinks very much the same.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, studying her. Natasha Duncan’s skin is flawless. She wears very little make-up and doesn’t need any. Long black hair that he guesses has been straightened. Small silver earrings that drop with elegance from her tiny earlobes; it’s clear she aims not to overwhelm. Slim-fitting black trousers and a black polo-neck jumper twinned with the cardigan. Low-heeled boots. ‘But it’s great news about your book.’

‘It is.’ She looks up, her eyes vast pools of life, but he sees the shine of tears. ‘I wish Abe were here to share my success. He was always behind me. Things were just beginning to look up for us.’ She pats her flat stomach, as if her daughter still lies inside. ‘We were both ecstatic about the pregnancy, and relieved when we found out that our baby wouldn’t be suffering the same problems as Abe did with the EDS.’

‘EDS?’

‘Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Abe was diagnosed just after his first birthday. He was late walking, a sickly child. He coped with it all well, though. It didn’t stop him from achieving what he wanted. He carried a card; it’s why the hospital was able to deal with him so effectively. Saved his life, only for…’ Her voice trails off. Theo remains quiet. She twists her fingers together, pulls the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands,