Page 22 of Not Falling for the Forward
“Oh my god!” I start at a squeal over my shoulder, I turn to see Jessica jumping up and down clapping her hands in front of herself. “Are those from—”
“Don’t!” I hiss at her before she says Jack’s name. There are no less than six of my colleagues around the nurse’s station now, all wanting to see what the fuss is about and the last thing I need is a rumour about me and a footballer going around. Especiallythatfootballer.
Jess and Dan are the only people I have told about Jack and that is only because they were taking the piss out of me again for thinking he had asked me on a date. Normally, I wouldn’t have told anyone about someone I may or may not end up seeing, I don’t like people knowing my business. Especially not those two gossips. Now they have questions and want to know every detail about what is going on between us and I’ll have to admit that I might fancy him just a little bit, and I don’t want to do that.
“Oh my god and thecaaaaaard!!!” Jess has snuck past me and has taken the card out, and now has it clutched to her chest. A dreamy expression adorns her beautiful round face.
“Give that back.” I snatch the card right out of her hand, and she sticks out her bottom lip out in a very over exaggerated sad face. “You’re acting like a mad woman, all lovey-dovey. Where is my relationship hating best friend? I need her right now, not whatever this is!” I point an accusatory finger at her.
She winces. “You’re right, it’s gross. I’m sorry.”
I roll my eyes about to lay into her some more when a terrifying voice cuts me off. “No. No flowers on the ward. It’s an infection control issue. Which patient are these for? I’ll have to tell them.” We all stand to attention as our Matron, Kelly, storms on to the unit.
Why is she here on a Sunday? The best bit about working nights or weekends. No management.
“They’re Emily’s, actually,” Jess says with a sweet smile on her face as she points at me. “From a potential suitor.” I scowl in her direction then turn to face Kelly. A short woman in her late fifties with shoulder length greying hair. The wrinkles on her face suggest she has smiled in the past, however, in the seven years I have known her I have not seen her face in anything but a sneer. She scares the crap out of everyone on the ward from cleaner to consultant. You can usually find her in her office on one of many online meetings that put me off any kind of management role. She hardly ever visits the ward andneveron a weekend. So, what has happened to make her come today? When I have contraband as appalling as a bouquet of flowers.
She purses her lips considering her judgment of the unsanctioned floral arrangement. RIP flowers, it was nice while it lasted. I’ll take a picture to remember them by. “Right, put them in the staff room and take them home tonight.”
I blink shocked, I was expecting her to tell me to dispose of them immediately. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth I crush my flowers to my chest and nod a thank you at her.
“Yes, well they’re very beautiful and it’s nice to see a man actually try for once these days.” I shake my head squinting my eyes, unsure if I’m seeing things, but I think the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile? It was gone as fast as it came, a blink and you’ll miss it tug of her lips. No. I imagined it. Had to have.
She spins around from me and addresses the rest of the staff. “Okay, a local children’s charity has set up a surprise visit from the local football team. All very last minute, but they usually bring press so I’m here to make sure that no unsafe sharps bin’s or an incorrectly discarded wet wipe make their way on to the front page.” Well, at least we know why she is here now. God forbid the press publish the actual reality of defunding the NHS for so long. Best to keep up appearances and make sure the directors still look good.
A thought crosses my mind, and I freeze on my way to the staff room. “Who is coming, sorry?” I ask. Jess is staring at me a wrinkle between her brow, probably wondering why I have suddenly gone stock still.
“I don’t know who they are, I don’t follow football.” Kelly dismisses me with a wave of her hand.
It isn’t unheard of for the local football team to come and surprise the kids. They do it a few times a year, usually around Christmas but some charities set up a few more visits throughout the year. They usually send the second team with one or two of the more well-known players; it cheers the kids up and makes for good PR. We are usually told about it before hand, though, so the ward looks extra nice and we all remember to iron our uniforms that day. We always have to keep it a secret for security reasons—you don’t want every fan arrivingto the hospital and standing outside the children’s ward to get a glimpse of their favourite player. Would they keep it a secret from us if they knew averyfamous player was visiting?
No. It’s not even going to be his team. He would have told me last night on the phone. But did he? He’d said,‘Something might make your day extra special’… but no. He meant the flowers, which are beautiful and have made my day special.
This is just a coincidence. I just immediately thought of Jack because of the flowers and the thought of footballers. It’s not him, he’ll be busy. If it is his team, it’ll be the under twenty-ones or the second team. There is no way any of the first team will be here. Especially not Jack. Not the day after a match. Not mid-season. No. I shake my head to clear the thoughts of a copper headed footballer.
“Emily!” I jump at Kelly shouting my name and I realise I have just been stood in the corridor holding my flowers and slowly spiralling. “Get them in the staff room now. I don’t care how pretty they are, if they're still on this corridor in two minutes they're in the bin.”
I hear Jess snicker at me being scolded and I send another scowl over my shoulder in her direction. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at Jessica. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your hair in a ponytail and not a bun.” I wince inwardly as I hear Jess being lectured about hair styles as the staff room door shuts behind me.
***
Jack
I did contemplate telling Emily I was going to be visiting her work when she told me she had picked up an extra shift, but then I pictured the look on her face when I surprised her with a visit, and I couldn’t think of anything better. Even if I had cringed at the thought of her struggling for money and needing to pick up extra shifts when I can afford literally anything I want, twice over and then again. She saves children’s lives, and I kick a ball around some grass. Make it make sense that she has to work fifty-hour weeks to make ends meet and I used to get paid ten times her annual salary in a week.
This visit has been scheduled for a while now. A local charity I have worked with for years sets up days like this for young people with serious illnesses or disabilities. I have only recently become more involved with them trying to give at least one day a month to the organisation. I’m embarrassed to admit I used to think I was too important to do charity events in person and would just send a check thinking that I was helping. The money obviously helps fund projects within the charity, but it’s only after my accident that I learned how important showing up in person is.
I like doing visits in children’s hospitals and rehabilitation centres, I love being around kids. Even though they don’t usually give a toss who comes to see them, they’re just buzzing there’s a footballer there to show them cool tricks with a ball, but the parents appreciate us showing up. Being able to take the time and be with these people, to chat to them, get to know them, even distract them for an afternoon, it something I don’t take for granted anymore.
Things changed after being on the other side of it and seeing how quickly it can all go to shit. After hearing my own mum crying to herself when she thought I was sleeping. Shit, the thought of it now still makes my heart crack and I have to rub the sore spot on my chestto relieve the sting. I vowed that when I got better, I would commit time to the parents of children that were suffering.
So here I am, on a Sunday afternoon about to surprise some kids, their parents, and hopefully, a stunning, curves-in-all-the-right-places nurse.
We are greeted by a short, thin woman in uniform who looks like she has swallowed something sour. She shows us around the ward, and we pass by some of the rooms with the sicker children. I stop to talk to each and every one of them. Some of the kids are too sick or too young to talk, so I spend time with their family members, listening, talking, whatever they need to distract them for a time.
My heart has been racing ever since we walked through the front door, and I know it’s not because I’m nervous about meeting all these people today. I am practically tingling in anticipation of seeing her. To be in the same room as her. Of seeing that smile, hearing that laugh. As we are moving in and out of each room, I scan the ward to try and get a glimpse of a freckled face, her thick ponytail or—if I’m lucky—that incredible backside. But nothing.
Up and down the ward we walk, we are even directed into the staff room to give some well-deserved time to the people on shift today. But the one person I want to see doesn’t appear to be making herself visible.Is she pissed that I didn’t tell her I was coming?The thought is circling my head whilst I’m chatting with a curvaceous red headed nurse when I spot a very large, very familiar bouquet of flowers on a table in the back. A huge grin splits my face.
