The notekeeper, p.4
The Notekeeper, page 4
Zoe said nothing, not trusting herself to speak as she took in what Ben’s order would mean for her and her future. The notes were a lifeline, not just for the patients, but for her.
‘I’m sure you can find other ways to show the patients how much you care, Zoe,’ Ben said, with a final nod before he walked away.
As Zoe watched him return to the day room, she felt a fresh stab of fury. Her notes weren’t just whimsy. As far as she was concerned, the last few words of the dying helped save the lives of those left behind.
Chapter Six
By the time Zoe got home she had worked herself into such a frenzied state she was incapable of speech, something that wasn’t lost on Sarah.
‘Zoe, sweetheart, what the hell has happened?’ she gasped, watching Zoe walk into the living room like a possessed zombie.
‘I’m fine,’ Zoe growled, throwing herself on the sofa.
‘You don’t look fine,’ Sarah said, pressing a large glass of red wine into Zoe’s hands. ‘In fact, you look bloody awful. What’s happened?’
Zoe stared dolefully into her drink. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’
‘The beginning,’ Sarah encouraged. ‘Come on, out with it.’
Zoe told her friend everything. From her first awkward encounter with Ben to how she had discovered he was her boss, and then his latest missive to stop Zoe from giving and taking the notes she loved.
‘You’re joking! What an arsehole! I’m sorry, Zoe, how dare he do this?!’
‘Oh, he dares all right.’ Zoe let out a hollow laugh. ‘Says I’m putting myself and the hospital at risk.’
‘Bollocks!’ Sarah snapped. ‘What does Karen say?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her about it,’ Zoe admitted. ‘I know she’s given Ben her full support. He as much as reminded me of that when he told me to stop my notes.’
‘Arsehole,’ Sarah snarled again.
Zoe smiled at her friend and Sarah squeezed Zoe’s knee, fully understanding the notes weren’t just about helping her patients. They gave Zoe a lasting link to Sean.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Sarah asked. She reached for the bowl of crisps that stood on the table and took a handful.
‘Besides fantasising about sticking pins in Tasker’s eyes?’
‘Yeah, besides that.’ Sarah fixed her gaze on Zoe as she reached for another handful of crisps. ‘You can’t accept this.’
Zoe shrugged. ‘What choice do I have? He’s the new boss.’
‘Yeah, who’ll be gone in six months or so.’ Sarah reached for her wine and took a large gulp. ‘If it were me, I’d carry on.’
‘You would not!’ Zoe gasped.
‘Yes, I bloody would,’ Sarah said, with spirit. ‘He hasn’t even had the good manners to discuss the matter with you. To get a bit East London, it’s bang out of order.’
Despite her sadness, Zoe laughed at Sarah’s dreadful cockney accent.
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why?’ Sarah asked, draining her glass.
‘Because I’ll get the sack.’
‘You will not.’ Sarah waved her hand, batting Zoe’s concerns away as if they were an irritating fly. ‘And if you did, you could go to the papers and tell them how you were sacked for taking down the last wishes of the dying. I’m sure that would do Mr Tasker’s reputation the world of good.’
‘Blimey!’ Zoe gaped at her friend in wonder. ‘Remind me never to cross you.’
‘Keep my glass topped up and you won’t.’ Sarah nudged her almost empty glass towards the wine bottle beside Zoe.
Taking the less than subtle hint, Zoe refilled Sarah’s glass and topped up her own.
‘Seriously, Zoe, it’s not like you’re trying to fiddle dying people out of their pensions. If it were me, I’d perhaps be a bit more discreet with the notes but this Tasker bloke will be gone soon.’
Biting her lip, Zoe thought for a moment. Sarah had a point; even Ben had said how he never stayed long enough to see the results of his work. And nobody had ever once complained about her letters. In fact, according to patient satisfaction surveys, families and patients appreciated the thoughtful service she offered.
Tucking her legs beneath her, Zoe rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Tell me about your day,’ Zoe said, aware she hadn’t asked her friend anything about herself yet.
‘Much the same as any other,’ Sarah said with a yawn. ‘Tiring.’
‘I take it Lottie’s in bed?’ Zoe asked.
Sarah grimaced. ‘She saw her father today and she’s exhausted. He took her to the park and let her go down the slides that are far too big for her.’
‘Ah.’ Zoe nodded knowingly, helping herself to some crisps, enjoying the way they crunched noisily in her mouth. ‘Still, every kid needs a dad.’
‘Yup,’ Sarah agreed. ‘I know he tries with her but why do I get all the boring stuff, and he gets all the fun stuff? It’s not fair.’
‘The joys of being a mum,’ Zoe said, reaching out for another fistful of crisps and earning a smack on the hand from Sarah in the process.
‘Get your own!’ she admonished.
Grumbling, Zoe went into the kitchen and nabbed two bags of salt and vinegar and a Twix for afters. Clutching the chocolate, she felt a sudden pang of longing for home. Right now, she would give anything for a good old Aussie Tim Tam, which healed all wounds. Still, any port in a storm, she thought, ripping open the chocolate wrapper and leaning against the worktop. As she took a large bite, her eyes roamed the kitchen. For a small terrace, Sarah had kitted the galley kitchen out well, with navy walls, white-gloss kitchen units and smart posters of New York. She’d even done a good job on the tiny balcony that stood outside the kitchen, making enough room for a small table and chairs where you could enjoy a coffee and the early morning sunshine away from the bustle of the city.
Bringing her attention back inside, Zoe’s eyes landed on a thick white A4 envelope propped up against the money tree on the windowsill. It was addressed to her in a bold black typeface; she gave a start as she took in the familiar Australia Registered Post logo.
‘When did this letter come?’ Zoe called.
‘This morning. I had to sign for it before I left for work,’ Sarah said, walking into the kitchen. ‘I thought it might be important. David’s never done that before, has he?’
Shaking her head, Zoe stared at the letter as if it were a bomb. She really didn’t want to open it. Even so, Zoe was curious. Was the letter from David? He wouldn’t have had time to go to the post office. He always joked he was a mechanic not a secretary. Could it be from her mother? But Zoe dismissed the thought. She still talked to her mum occasionally on the phone and they emailed. Ruth hated the way Zoe had left Australia and why, but unlike her sister, Jemma, who lived in Melbourne, she at least understood, always insisting Zoe would return home when she was ready.
‘Maybe it’s tax stuff or something?’ Sarah suggested.
Zoe shook her head. ‘It hasn’t got a tax office stamp.’
‘Could it be something to do with Sean?’ Sarah asked gently.
Zoe felt the usual pain that washed over her whenever his name was mentioned.
‘I don’t know,’ Zoe whispered. ‘But I do know I’m too afraid to find out.’
‘Time to be brave,’ Sarah said determinedly. ‘It’s obviously important.’
Zoe looked at Sarah. Her friend was right and before she could change her mind, Zoe snatched up the letter from the windowsill and ripped the creamy white envelope open. Pulling out a sheaf of papers, she read the top sheet and felt her stomach turn over.
Dear Zoe,
I’ve written to you many times over the years and I know why you rarely ever reply. You haven’t forgiven me. I knew that when I came home and found you gone all those years ago. I don’t blame you because I have never forgiven myself. For the past two years, Zoe, I’ve been hoping you’ll come back, but I’m beginning to realise that’s not going to happen and I know we both need to move on.
That’s why I think we should separate officially. As you will see from the documents enclosed, I have been to Family Court and filed for divorce. If you want to contest it, you’ll need to contact the court and file a response, but we’ve been apart so long now I can’t think you’ll want to. My solicitor will be in touch to talk about the settlement of our assets, otherwise our divorce should be settled in about three to four months. I’m sorry, Zoe. I love you but we can’t carry on like this any more.
With love,
David
Hands shaking, Zoe put the note down, dashed to the sink and threw up. When she had finished, she stared at the contents of her stomach in the bowl. What else was life going to throw at her?
Chapter Seven
David’s petition for a divorce combined with Ben’s insistence that Zoe stop taking notes left her feeling overwhelmed. As a result, over the next fortnight, Zoe coped by doing what she always did whenever she felt upset and threw herself into work.
And so, Zoe volunteered for overtime, attended to drug rounds, admin, dressings, blood transfusions, discharge planning and of course patient care. Despite Sarah’s suggestion she carry on taking notes anyway, Zoe had put her stationery away – at least temporarily. Although she considered the notes she gave and received an essential part of caring for her patients, Zoe knew her head was in too much of a mess to consider breaking the rules.
The truth was, David’s idea of a divorce had rocked her more than she liked to admit. Although she and David had been separated for more than two years, a divorce was something Zoe didn’t want. It would break her last link to Sean. She had assumed that, like her, David would be happy not accepting the past or embracing the future. But he hadn’t been. And now Zoe was hiding in the drug supply room hoping to find salvation.
‘Can you go and see Mrs Timpson?’ Miles boomed, poking his head around the door.
Zoe held up her hand as she finished counting syringes. ‘Why?’
‘She’s asking for you,’ Miles said. ‘Think you made an impression on her yesterday. I tried telling her I was the handsome Aussie one but she insists it’s you she wants.’
‘I’ve a feeling she wants to complain,’ Zoe said awkwardly. ‘She spent all day telling me her friend Ada Roberts had a much more organised death at St Mary’s.’
‘Did she really say that?’
Nodding, Zoe followed Miles out into the corridor. ‘Yes. She also said I’d only gone into nursing for the money.’
Miles cackled with laughter. ‘Tell her you’ll give her a lift in your Lambo later if she’s still upset.’
Smiling at the joke, Zoe followed Miles into the day room and was surprised to see the older woman sitting beside the French doors, playing cards with Ben Tasker.
Zoe looked to Miles for an explanation, but he shrugged his shoulders and made a shooing motion for Zoe to go and see what she wanted. Zoe knew why Miles was in such a rush for her to see the cancer patient. Mrs Timpson was a former headteacher and made no secret of the fact she thought she knew best. She had been admitted to The Oaks in the past as a day patient but with her bowel cancer battle almost at an end, she had moved in permanently to see out her final days.
‘How are you, Mrs Timpson?’ Zoe perched next to the older woman on the armchair.
Mrs Timpson turned away from her cards and looked at Zoe. ‘This young man has been trying to take all my money.’
Wondering if that was what Mrs Timpson wanted to complain about, she glowered at Ben, who was grinning behind his cards.
‘You keep playing bad hands. Not my fault you’ve lost your touch, Mrs Timpson.’
As the older woman opened her mouth, Zoe could see she was tired, the act of trying to find the right words beyond her reach.
‘Shall we get you back to your bed?’ she asked kindly.
Suddenly Zoe’s patient found her fire. ‘Not until I’ve at least won my bar of chocolate back.’
Zoe glared at Ben. He might be her boss but she wasn’t going to let Ben’s behaviour go unchecked. Wasn’t gambling with a patient as potentially damaging as her notes? Her warning look seemed to bear authority as Ben put down his cards, and slipped the bar of Dairy Milk across the table towards Mrs Timpson.
Satisfied, Zoe turned to the former headteacher. ‘Nurse Anderson said you wanted to talk to me?’
For a moment Mrs Timpson looked blank. ‘Yes. I’ve heard about you. My friend Ada told me you’re the one that takes notes from people before they die.’
‘Well, yes,’ Zoe replied hesitantly.
‘Are you still doing that now you’ve been demoted?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Only I don’t want to be missing out because you’ve suffered a humiliation.’
There was a snort of laughter. ‘You tell her, Mrs T,’ Ben agreed, avoiding Zoe’s gaze.
‘I’m afraid that’s not something I do any longer,’ Zoe said smoothly.
Mrs Timpson looked at her, bemused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re under new management and the notes aren’t something I can offer any more.’
‘What rot!’ Mrs Timpson snapped. ‘It’s a note I want, not open-heart surgery.’
Zoe smiled sympathetically, doing her best to remain diplomatic even though she was aching to reveal that the nurse who had nearly nicked Mrs Timpson’s bar of chocolate had stopped Zoe doing her job.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Zoe managed. ‘Perhaps a relative could take the note instead.’
‘That won’t work!’ Ms Timpson exclaimed, her rheumy eyes filled with frustration. ‘I need to leave a note for a relative.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Zoe said again. ‘I really am. If there’s anything else I can do for you…’
The short burst of fire that had powered the older lady disappeared as she gave a forlorn shake of her head. ‘Can you take me back to my room, please?’
‘Of course.’
As Zoe helped Mrs Timpson back to her room, Zoe’s eyes met Ben’s. Given Mrs Timpson’s disappointment, Zoe half expected to find a hint of apology, but there was nothing in his gaze but a blank stare. Zoe was stung by her new manager’s indifference and in that moment realised she had been right all along. When Zoe first met Ben Tasker, she had wondered if she had stumbled across a tosser. The only difference between then and now was that she knew she had.
* * *
Returning to the day room twenty minutes later, Zoe saw Miles checking the hand sanitiser stations were full. At the sound of someone behind him, he spun around and gave Zoe a bright smile.
‘You all right?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because the looks you were giving our boss earlier made me wonder if you were about to tip Mrs Timpson out of her wheelchair and use it to batter him around the head.’
At the image of her swinging a wheelchair in the day room, Zoe laughed. It would make a change from the usual sudoku puzzles and afternoon tea that passed as entertainment for the residents.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she said.
Miles nodded. ‘Just thought there was a bit of tension, plus you always duck out of the staff meetings he calls—’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Zoe protested.
‘If you say so.’ Miles wiped down the chairs with antibacterial spray. ‘But whenever his name comes up you don’t say a word.’
‘It’s called being professional.’
‘And the rest.’ Miles shot her a knowing look. ‘Seriously, Zoe, you can talk to me if there’s anything bothering you.’
For a moment Zoe was about to make a joke but, seeing the look of sincerity on Miles’s face, she thought better of it. There were times he truly meant well.
‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, with a sigh. ‘I’m struggling to adjust, that’s all.’
‘In what way?’
Zoe shrugged. ‘I dunno, change is hard and it doesn’t help that our new boss has forbidden me from taking notes or delivering them.’
Miles’s broad lips twisted in disbelief. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then she saw him look past her shoulder and alter his expression. ‘G’day, Ben, how are you going?’
‘All right thanks. You?’
Zoe whirled around and looked at the troubleshooter standing in the doorway. Was it her imagination or did he look sheepish?
‘Can’t complain,’ Miles replied evenly. ‘Anything you need?’
Ben swung his arms back and forth, avoiding Zoe’s gaze. ‘I’ve been trying to find the staffing files. Human Resources said you kept them down here.’
‘We used to,’ Zoe replied. ‘Karen moved them up to her office when you started. She’s old-fashioned, likes to ensure records are at hand on paper.’
‘Isn’t it all done by computer?’ Ben asked, looking troubled.
‘Yes, but Karen likes a physical back-up.’
Another frown crossed Ben’s features. ‘I didn’t realise. I’ll have to talk to her about that; there could be compliance issues, not to mention GDPR.’
Zoe didn’t dare look at Miles; she was sure she would burst out laughing if their eyes met.
‘Karen’s on a course and not back until Friday,’ Zoe explained.
Ben scratched his head. ‘Thanks. Although she’ll be at the party tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll talk to her then.’
At the mention of the staff event, Zoe felt a surge of dread. She hated socialising at the best of times and had hoped to find an excuse to get out of it by now.
‘Maybe leave it, eh?’ Miles suggested good-naturedly. ‘It’s a party. Karen’ll want a few stubbies and to let her hair down.’
‘Will she?’ Ben looked astonished. ‘She seems so serious.’
‘Not all the time. She’s professional, but knows how to have a laugh,’ Miles offered.
Zoe wondered if Miles was making a pointed remark, but there was no time to dwell as Ben nodded his thanks and turned to leave.
