Health Care
Chapter One
I tug my hood up hard over my head and wrap my arms across my chest. Icy rain droplets find their way down my cleavage and I shiver. Probably should’ve dressed more appropriately, my conscious scolds. Truthfully, I had returned from holiday three hours’ prior and was looking for any opportunity to show off my golden tan before it fades. Muddy water splashes around my ankles and my feet slip around in my leather sandals. At least this will wash the sand off, I thought to myself.
I practically run across the road, bowing my head against the wind. Somewhere at the traffic lights, a car hoots at me. I dive into Thompson’s chemist and shake the water from my hair. Somewhere behind the counter, I hear a familiar wolf-whistle. I look up to see my mum grinning at me from the counter. I scoot up past the consultation office and throw my arms around her. My mum is a petite five foot tall, making her the ideal height for hugging. I avoid Christopher’s eye as Mum breaks away to survey me closely. She is searching for any signs of illness, injury or general emotional instability. After all, I have been away from home for a fortnight. Eventually she decides there is no obvious damage, aside from my liver.
“How was it?” she cries.
“So good!” I dance. “The people are lovely, and it’s so much fun. I have so many photos and oh my God – the weather!” My mum beams at the hurried excitement in my voice.
“Drink much?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at me challengingly. I know she is only hunting for some hilarious drunken anecdote. Not in front of Christopher, I remind myself.
“Mum, it’s my job to drink!” I laugh. Somewhere behind me, Christopher scoffs and disguises it as a cough. Arrogant prick, I think to myself. He’s leaning with his hands on the counter, surveying the shop with his emerald green eyes. He’s wearing his powder blue shirt, loosened around his neck and tucked into a pair of grey linen trousers. He seems to have forgotten the small pile of prescriptions building up on the counter beside him.
“It certainly sounds rewarding,” he sighs with the slightest hint of sarcasm he knows only I will pick up. His long fingers drift across the computer and begin to type aimlessly.
“Very,” I deadpan. Christopher’s ears prick up and he finally turns around.
“You look like you’ve caught the sun.” No shit Sherlock, I’ve been in Majorca for two weeks. He avoids my eye and studies the tan on my legs. Christopher’s eyes have a way of boring into you so intently; you think he may possess X-Ray vision. At this thought, I cross my legs self-consciously. “But aren’t you cold?”
“I didn’t have time to get changed,” I lie.
“What’s Dad up to?” Mum cuts across us. Christopher’s eyes narrow at me slightly before he returns to the computer. The Google search engine pops up. The pile of prescriptions still hasn’t been acknowledged.
“He’s just at home,” I say, tearing myself away from glaring at Christopher’s back. “He’s finding somewhere to eat tonight.” My stomach purrs at the prospect: my first wholesome meal in two weeks; one that I won’t have to pay for.
“Well, don’t forget you can choose,” Mum coaxes. “After all, we’re celebrating the fact that you’re home and safe.” Aside from my liver.
“Amen to that,” Christopher pipes up. “So glad you haven’t caught anything nasty.” I just know he’s talking about a fucking STI. As though I’ve spent the past two weeks sleeping with everything with a pulse. “I mean, the air-con on aeroplanes is just rife with airborne germs.” He adds in, last minute. How goddam witty. Christopher is twenty-two and training to be a locum pharmacist. He still has two years left of his Medicine degree, but works in Thompson’s part-time as an assistant (not that he needs the money). Christopher’s father is the managing director of Thompson’s; it’s their family business. Maybe you’ve seen their personalised number plates? Beneath his arrogance and smarm, deep down Christopher is both conceited and cold. He is also my ex-boyfriend.
“So you’ll be finished at half four?” I ask my mum, ignoring Christopher’s remark. She nods and smiles. “Have a nice day!” I sing, swooping to kiss her briefly on the cheek. I give a general farewell to the rest of the staff, who all chant a goodbye back. Christopher just nods and half-smiles.
I practically run across the road, bowing my head against the wind. Somewhere at the traffic lights, a car hoots at me. I dive into Thompson’s chemist and shake the water from my hair. Somewhere behind the counter, I hear a familiar wolf-whistle. I look up to see my mum grinning at me from the counter. I scoot up past the consultation office and throw my arms around her. My mum is a petite five foot tall, making her the ideal height for hugging. I avoid Christopher’s eye as Mum breaks away to survey me closely. She is searching for any signs of illness, injury or general emotional instability. After all, I have been away from home for a fortnight. Eventually she decides there is no obvious damage, aside from my liver.
“How was it?” she cries.
“So good!” I dance. “The people are lovely, and it’s so much fun. I have so many photos and oh my God – the weather!” My mum beams at the hurried excitement in my voice.
“Drink much?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at me challengingly. I know she is only hunting for some hilarious drunken anecdote. Not in front of Christopher, I remind myself.
“Mum, it’s my job to drink!” I laugh. Somewhere behind me, Christopher scoffs and disguises it as a cough. Arrogant prick, I think to myself. He’s leaning with his hands on the counter, surveying the shop with his emerald green eyes. He’s wearing his powder blue shirt, loosened around his neck and tucked into a pair of grey linen trousers. He seems to have forgotten the small pile of prescriptions building up on the counter beside him.
“It certainly sounds rewarding,” he sighs with the slightest hint of sarcasm he knows only I will pick up. His long fingers drift across the computer and begin to type aimlessly.
“Very,” I deadpan. Christopher’s ears prick up and he finally turns around.
“You look like you’ve caught the sun.” No shit Sherlock, I’ve been in Majorca for two weeks. He avoids my eye and studies the tan on my legs. Christopher’s eyes have a way of boring into you so intently; you think he may possess X-Ray vision. At this thought, I cross my legs self-consciously. “But aren’t you cold?”
“I didn’t have time to get changed,” I lie.
“What’s Dad up to?” Mum cuts across us. Christopher’s eyes narrow at me slightly before he returns to the computer. The Google search engine pops up. The pile of prescriptions still hasn’t been acknowledged.
“He’s just at home,” I say, tearing myself away from glaring at Christopher’s back. “He’s finding somewhere to eat tonight.” My stomach purrs at the prospect: my first wholesome meal in two weeks; one that I won’t have to pay for.
“Well, don’t forget you can choose,” Mum coaxes. “After all, we’re celebrating the fact that you’re home and safe.” Aside from my liver.
“Amen to that,” Christopher pipes up. “So glad you haven’t caught anything nasty.” I just know he’s talking about a fucking STI. As though I’ve spent the past two weeks sleeping with everything with a pulse. “I mean, the air-con on aeroplanes is just rife with airborne germs.” He adds in, last minute. How goddam witty. Christopher is twenty-two and training to be a locum pharmacist. He still has two years left of his Medicine degree, but works in Thompson’s part-time as an assistant (not that he needs the money). Christopher’s father is the managing director of Thompson’s; it’s their family business. Maybe you’ve seen their personalised number plates? Beneath his arrogance and smarm, deep down Christopher is both conceited and cold. He is also my ex-boyfriend.
“So you’ll be finished at half four?” I ask my mum, ignoring Christopher’s remark. She nods and smiles. “Have a nice day!” I sing, swooping to kiss her briefly on the cheek. I give a general farewell to the rest of the staff, who all chant a goodbye back. Christopher just nods and half-smiles.