Page 5 of The Midnight Bakery
Beth
It was the thing Beth feared the most. That something would happen to Jack while she was at work, and she wouldn’t even know about it until she got home. She’d turn her key in the lock and open the door, thinking that in just a few short seconds they’d be together again, she saying good morning and he groaning at the thought of getting up. And then she’d find him, and her life would come crashing down around her.
Almost as bad – or was it worse? – was knowing that something hadalreadyhappened and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it. She couldn’t just drop everything and rush straight to his side, however much she wanted to. She had patients to look after and, like tonight, might even be in the middle of trying to save someone else’s life. The choice of who might live and who might die simply wasn’t hers to make. She was miles away from Jack. It was the price they paid for living. Some days it was thoughts like these which felt as if they were pulling Beth apart.
She forced herself to breathe, to calm her racing heart and still her trembling fingers. Be logical. Jack had texted her, so he was okay. If he could still use his phone, he was conscious,and, she hoped, able to ring emergency services if he needed to. Her fingers jabbed at her phone’s keypad.
Are you okay?she asked first. Followed in quick succession by,What’s happened?andI’m sorry I couldn’t get to my phone, we lost a patient tonight.
There was an agonising wait, but then three little dots appeared which Beth had never been so pleased to see – Jack was typing a reply.
Okay, it read.
Cramp.
Fell out of bed.
Beth swallowed.I’ll leave as soon as I can, she replied.
K.Not going anywhere
The strings which Jack had woven around her heart pulled tighter. God, how she loved this man.
How are you? Are you hurt?
Sore arse. Bit cold. But have pulled cover and pillow off bed so no rush
Beth could see him, lying on the floor, with neither the strength nor the means to alter his position. He would be lying where he’d fallen, limbs bent, twisted…or broken— She pushed the scene from her head. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on suchthoughts; she needed to get home. Sending a quick kiss andI’ll see you soonto Jack, Beth threw her phone in her handbag and rushed back to the ward to find Lisa.
To Beth’s way of thinking, staff relations were a two-way street. If you pulled your weight, or in Beth’s case always strived to overdeliver, then it was reasonable to expect your boss to cut you a bit of slack every now and again. It didn’t always follow, though. Beth had worked under countless ward sisters or matrons for whom an employment contract might as well be the actual law, and there had been no room for deviating one iota from its terms and conditions. Thankfully, Lisa was of the same mind as Beth and so a short while later Beth was able to leave the hospital, well before the end of her shift.
St John’s Hospital was one of the very few locally that hadn’t been swallowed up into a brand-new, huge, multimillion-pound redeveloped everything-under-one-roof ‘service provider’. It was an old building, crumbling around the edges, but with its red brick and mullioned windows, still managed to hang onto a degree of charm. Over the years, however, what little space it occupied had been nibbled away, sold off to raise much-needed cash, and so parking was virtually non-existent. A small area had been designated for staff, but it hadn’t a hope of accommodating everyone who worked at the hospital. The cost of it was subsidised, but even if a space came free, Beth couldn’t even consider using it; it was simply beyond their means. Given its age, the hospital was just off the centre of town, though, so was only a fifteen-minute –ten on a good day – walk to a tiny private car park where Beth could leave her car overnight for free. She hurried through the warren of hospital buildings and out into the night.
It wasn’t until she had been walking for several minutes that she realised how anxious she was feeling. She was frantic with worry about Jack, but that wasn’t the only thing troubling her. Her shift started at nine thirty each night and finished at seven each morning, times when the streets had a little life to them. There were people walking dogs or leaving for a night out. There were cars, too, and an atmosphere to the town as it prepared to either wind down for the day or wake up. Now, it was the dead of night, silent and absolutely still. There was no moon, and cutbacks had meant that streetlights were lit for fewer hours, so although not normally blessed with a vivid imagination, the hairs on the back of Beth’s neck were beginning to rise. Dark things happened at night; you only had to read a newspaper or listen to the news to know that. She swallowed and, pulling her raincoat tighter, hurried on.
By the time she reached the town centre a steady drizzle was falling, and although she was relieved to be almost at her destination, the buildings there were more cramped, huddled together, throwing heavy shadows onto already dark streets. Beth picked up her pace even more.
Soon, there was only one more street to go before she reached the car park. It was more of an alleyway really and, as she hurried down it, a lighted window drew her attention. She was walking behind the bakery – she could tell by the incredible smell which wafted from a vent in the wall – and, inside, a woman was dancing. Beth slowed automatically, pausing to watch, curious, but also comforted by the sight of something so ordinary, so joyful, among the dark streets.
The woman was singing, too; Beth could hear her through the glass, and she smiled. It was a song she recognised as one her mum used to sing when Beth was still living at home – a romantic ballad by some Hollywood starlet, Doris Day perhaps. The woman was cradling an enormous bowl in her arms as if itwere her partner and, completely oblivious to the outside world, was twirling around the room.
Still smiling, but not wishing to disturb the baker’s reverie, Beth roused herself and, head down against the rain, began to fumble in her bag for her car keys. Why was it that you could never find the flipping things when you were in a hurry? They must have dropped to the bottom amid all the other debris, and Beth pushed her hand deeper, wrestling with her bag while still hurrying as best she could. Just as her fingers touched metal, her foot slipped on cobbles slick with rain and, with no hands free to balance her, Beth pitched forward, crashing to her knees. Pain shot through them and up into her hip.
For a second, she couldn’t work out which way was up. One minute she was standing, and the next she was sprawled on the ground, the contents of her bag rolling around in the wet. Both knees were throbbing, and one hand stung unaccountably as she tried to stand. From nowhere, she felt a hand on her arm.
‘Gently, you’ve taken quite a tumble. Catch your breath a minute.’
Beth startled, looking up into the face of the woman she’d seen dancing.
‘Thank you, I—’ She broke off, sagging back down as her head began to swim.
‘That’s it, just sit a minute, and then we’ll get you in out of the rain. Let me know when you want to try standing.’
The woman’s smile was kind, her face etched with concern. She still had hold of Beth’s arm and Beth could feel her fingers through her coat, holding just tight enough to be reassuring. After a minute, Beth took a deep breath and gestured with her hand.
‘Up you come then,’ said the woman. ‘Here, lean on me.’ The woman was half Beth’s size but had a surprisingly firm stance.Slowly, Beth was able to draw her feet under her and, grimacing with pain, stood shakily.
‘Oh dear…’ The woman was looking at her anxiously. ‘These cobbles are murder in the rain. I’ve nearly gone over myself on countless occasions.’ She pulled back to better see what the damage might be. ‘Where are you hurt?’ Beth lowered a hand vaguely in the direction of her knees. ‘Ouch…I hope those weren’t your best tights. You’ve made quite a mess of them, I’m afraid. Come on, let’s get you inside and I can take a better look. I think you might be bleeding.’
