Woman to Woman Read online

  “Well the same panel put us both forward for a second interview, and there were four positions available. Your results from all your exams and your final assessments have been amazing. I can’t understand what could have gone wrong.”

  Charles Dunn reached across the table. “Let’s just drop it, eh, Heather. You win some, you lose some.”

  Heather sipped her coffee and studied her man. They may only have been married a month, but they’d known each other at university for nearly five years, and they’d dated for the final year. She knew when he was hiding something—be it significant or trivial.

  * * *

  At six feet tall with a curvaceous body, Heather was a stunning woman when clothed, but when naked she would cause a statue to get aroused. Having put up with her husband’s sullen expression and unnatural silence since the afternoon, she was going to make sure he was tired before they slept. In the late evening, Heather donned sexy lingerie and then slipped into a long diaphanous nightie and heels. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom and nodded with satisfaction as she flicked her long brunette ringlets over her shoulders.

  “I’ll bring you around Charles Dunn.” She strode through to the living room and stopped. He wasn’t there, but if he’d gone out, he’d done so quietly. There had been no noise of a door closing. Heather went through the house room by room to find that she was looking adorable for nothing. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

  Heather remained dressed as she was in the hope that Charles had nipped out to buy flowers, or wine—something romantic to celebrate her success at the interviews. When half an hour had passed, it was time to find out what her man was up to. Heather called his mobile.

  “Unable to take my call—what?” Heather dropped her phone onto the sofa, went back to the bedroom and changed into a loose tracksuit. She didn’t want it, but this had all the early signs of their first argument.

  When it got to half past ten and three more attempts had failed with her phone, Heather resolved to give it half an hour and then go to bed. If her husband wanted to go off and sulk; let him.

  It was eleven-thirty when Charles returned home, worse the wear for drink, and more interested in sleeping than talking. When questioned about his behaviour he shrugged and got ready for bed.

  “I think you should try the bed in the spare room, Charles.”

  “What—what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Don’t you dare try to turn this around—you can use the spare room, or piss off back to your new friends in the pub.”

  “Suit yourself.” Charles stormed through the house to the spare room and slammed the door behind him.

  Heather got under the duvet of the marital bed and let the tears roll silently down her cheeks.

  * * *

  On Friday, Heather arrived home at five o’clock to an empty house. She had half expected it to happen because since she and Charles had their interviews on Monday, they had hardly seen each other. Heather slumped into an armchair, exhausted and thought back over the week so far.

  On Tuesday, Charles had gone out early smartly-dressed, and not returned until the evening. Any conversation the two had was stilted, and then Charles opted to sleep in the spare room again. Heather didn’t complain and figured if her husband wanted to impose a sex ban on himself—it saved her doing so.

  Wednesday was a mirror-image of Tuesday, with the exception that Charles seemed a bit happier when he eventually arrived back home in the evening. He had jokingly suggested that he felt ready to let Heather ravish him at bedtime, but the pun fell on deaf ears.

  “You know how the saying goes, Charles—you made your bed ….”

  “I’m sorry, love, you know the pressure we were both—” Charles realised his sudden change of attitude wasn’t going to wash with a character as strong as Heather’s. When he was left sitting nursing a brandy at half past ten, he knew he had a lot of humble pie to eat.

  Following her success at her interview, Heather had not been due to start work, but on Thursday she had received a call from the hospital. A massive pile-up had occurred on the North Circular motorway, and St Leonard’s was overloaded with casualties but massively understaffed. Heather responded without a second thought and her first shift, though unofficial, was fifteen hours in the Accident and Emergency Department.

  When Heather woke up at eleven o’clock, she was in her underwear, lying in her bed under the duvet. She squinted as a slither of daylight broke through the slats of the blinds. She got up to use the bathroom and returned to bed. Heather stared at her clothes, on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. She couldn’t recall going to bed.

  “Good morning.” Charles gave a weak smile as he approached the bed. “I’ve brought you a coffee, but I didn’t know if you’d be ready for food yet.”

  “Thank you.” Heather sat up to accept the hot drink. She sipped immediately, trying to revive her mind and body simultaneously with the simple refreshment.

  Charles turned to leave. “I’ll let you wake up, and then I’ll make you a brunch if you like.”

  “Did you put me to bed?”

  “Yes … I didn’t want you to wake up curled up on an armchair, aching. “I didn’t think you’d want me to remove your underwear—”

  That was one mystery solved. “Stop.” Heather held up her free hand. “I’ll drink this, take a shower, and then you can make me an early lunch.”

  “Heather, I—”

  “We’ll talk when I’m up and dressed, Charles … and thanks again for the coffee.”

  Charles smiled for the first time since they’d left the house on Monday morning and wished each other well at the interviews.

  * * *

  After lunch, the pair sat at the dining table with a coffee. Heather knew what to say, but watched the uncertainty in Charles’ face, knowing he didn’t know what to say.

  “That was a nice lunch, Charles, and now you’ve got the opportunity to explain yourself.”

  He looked down at his cup, and then looked up. “I could have taken the rebuff at my interview on Monday, but it gutted me to be turned down, and for you to get in.” Charles glanced at his coffee again. “I know it’s immature, but I couldn’t take your success when I’d failed.”

  “You’re telling me that your mantra about it being a level playing field is bullshit then?”

  “No, it’s—”

  “Bollocks, Charles. We did the same degree course at the same time, and we got the same result, so if we remember that we were interviewed for the same job in the same hospital—you didn’t perform under pressure.”

  Charles gulped coffee and remained silent, knowing that his wife was right.

  “Now, my dear husband, the next thing we need to know, is if you intend to throw a tantrum every time you have an issue in your life. If you’re going to be successful as a doctor, you owe it to your patients to keep your shit together.”

  “It’s not the same thing—I had other things on my mind during the interview.”

  “We share the finances, and the car and our student loans are the same, so tell me—how is your life any more complicated than mine?”

  “Monday was just one of those days—”

  “No, Charles—that is unacceptable. For me, Thursday was one of those days, so much so that it ran halfway into Friday, so cut the crap. I had things on my mind. They started with you, and your strange behaviour, but those things were soon dwarfed by concern for casualties of school age, and adults with life-changing injuries. I was present when we lost two cases from the carnage.”

  “Okay, point taken.”

  “You’ve worked on the ‘A and E department’ and know what a real problem is, so now tell me what’s troubling you—I genuinely want to know what’s on your mind.”

  “Okay, but you won’t like it.”

  “Try me. We might only have been married a short time, but we’ve known each other long enough to recognise an issue. I want this resolved.”

  �
��One of the interview panel said I had an official complaint made by a nurse. It turns out it was somebody I dated a while back, and she stitched me up when she found out I was aiming for a job at St Leonard’s.”

  “You must have known her a while ago because we’ve been together over a year. Besides the time involved, it’s peculiar that you should both end up working in the same hospital that you were interviewed for—what’s her name?”

  “I don’t know for sure—I went out with a couple of nursing students, before you and I got together.”

  “Right, so your start in life as an actual doctor has been jeopardised by a girl you dated over a year ago?”

  “Pretty much, but I was a bit happier this morning because I’ve been to two more interviews and I’ve had a call—Eden Vale has accepted me.”

  “Why doesn’t that name mean anything to me?”

  “It’s a private hospital in Oxford. It’ll mean commuting, but the money is good so it will work out okay.”

  “Maybe I’ve missed something, Charles, but I thought the reason we rented this apartment in London was that we could cut down the need for commuting to, or from the suburbs.”

  “No, really, the money makes it worthwhile, Heather.”

  “I was thinking in terms of our lifestyle, or as will be now, lack of lifestyle.”

  “I thought you’d bring that up, and I asked about initial contracts. I agreed to sign up for a maximum of two years with them. I figured it would get me settled into regular medical work, and you’ll already be busy at St Leonard’s.”

  “Why do I think I’m still missing something—what is the upside of not seeing each other for most of our waking hours over two years?”

  Charles nodded. “I know it sounds like a big sacrifice, my love, but if we can live with the disruption to our social lives, we’ll both gain valuable experience, and we’ll be able to save towards our own house.”

  “I was pretty sure this was an option we ruled out a few months ago—remember before we made that other decision—to get married?” Heather gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, that must have been me talking to a different Dr Charles Dunn.”

  “Please, trust me on this, Heather—it’s for the best.”

  “For who, Charles—that’s what I’d like to know?”

  Charles gave a weak smile, and the conversation ended there.

  Heather had heard enough and went out for a walk—alone.

  Discovery

  Tuesday 18th February, 1997

  Heather and Charles were having breakfast together—one of the few occasions they saw each other.

  “When do you start your new position, Charles?”

  “Why would I need a new job? I’m making good money working at the clinic.”

  “It’s okay, love, you don’t need a new job, it’s me who must have written up my diary wrong.”

  “I’m not with you, Heather.”

  “You are with me, though, Charles, and after breakfast, you’ll be gone, off to Oxford to your job.”

  “Am I missing something?”

  “I’ll try subtlety first. How often do we have breakfast together?”

  “Not often. I suppose maybe—”

  “Twice a week, Charles, and it’s usually a day like today when one of us is off shift.”

  “Yes, we have become like ships passing in the night.”

  “Have you any idea when that happened to our lifestyle?”

  “It must be months.”

  “Yes, it is months—twenty-four of them to be exact.” Heather held his gaze. “Two years.”

  “Wow—really?”

  “Yes, and do you know why I’m so certain?”

  “No, but I’ve got a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

  “Two years ago I was successful in my interview to join St Leonard’s, and if you recall, it was a week or so later you took a job with Eden Vale, the clinic out in Oxford.” Heather sipped her coffee and watched her husband’s deadpan expression. “You told me that the upside was that if we sacrificed our time together, we’d save our money and you’d only stay there for two years.”

  Charles nodded and squinted. “I’m not sure I follow this—”

  “When did we last go on holiday together?”

  “We … we—”

  “Eighteen months ago, Charles. Six months after we got our positions we went to Spain for two weeks.” Heather dug deep to control her emotions. “We didn’t have a holiday last year because we couldn’t match up our time off. I’m sure you’ll remember—I changed my dates twice, but you felt duty-bound to plug a gap in the clinic staffing.”

  “Come on, Heather, you know what it’s like—”

  “Yes, in a general hospital—not a private clinic where the patients are booked in and dealt with by arrangement.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Heather.” He looked at his watch. “We can continue this later, love—I’ll have to go now.”

  “Do you have any applications out to hospitals closer to home?”

  “No, and while things are going so well—”

  “You’re right, of course.” Heather went to the door to kiss him goodbye. “Will you be home at a normal time this evening, or should I eat alone?”

  “We’ve got a few procedures lined up, so it depends—yes, you fix up something for yourself, and I’ll grab a bite before I head home.”

  Heather stood at the window and watched the car leave the street. “Please let me be wrong.” She lifted her mobile phone and called the Eden Vale clinic. It wasn’t the first time, and the answers to her questions reaffirmed her belief that she would have to follow up. She dialled another number.

  “Hello—it’s Mrs Dunn. Yes, I called yesterday to book a car—could it be delivered in the next two hours?” Heather’s lips almost created a smile, but it faded quickly.

  * * *

  As Heather drove north, she replayed in her mind the conversation she’d overheard only days earlier. Heather had agreed to take a couple of hours off and then return to help on a late shift. Whichever heavenly body was responsible for traffic accidents, terrorist attacks and large fires didn’t take into account that medical staff needed rest.

  Heather was already tired, but she was allowing herself some respite—a meal in a nearby restaurant was better than a ten-minute break in the hospital cafeteria. It took fifteen minutes to walk to the place and then she drank water while waiting for her meal. The overworked doctor was sitting in a booth, so was out of sight to the two young men in the next booth.

  At first, Heather ate her meal, oblivious to the conversation nearby; her mind on the long hours ahead. She’d picked up on the two young men’s names—Henry, and Zak. As she listened, Zak’s voice registered with her—he was a porter at St Leonard’s.

  “I’m telling you, Henry, if that woman were mine, I’d give up work so that I’d be at home waiting for her.”

  “Yeah, but maybe the guy thought it was better to be in a different hospital to his wife.”

  “No, mate,” Zak said. “If I were married to Dr Dunn, I’d want to be in the same place to make sure nobody else was trying their luck.”

  “Yeah, I heard she was a bit of a looker.”

  “Looker? If the woman had pictures taken of herself, she could give up being a doctor.”

  Both young men laughed.

  In the next booth, Dr Heather Dunn was losing her appetite, but ate slowly, knowing deep down she’d regret not eating. Now, however, she was listening intently to the two friends on the other side of the partition behind her.

  “So, Zak, what makes you think Dr Dunn’s husband didn’t want to work at St Leonard’s—it must be closer to home?”

  “There’s no point being close to home in bloody London when your fancy woman is living in Oxford, mate.”

  “You’re a porter, man—how come you know about this stuff?”

  “Porters in a big hospital are like wallpaper, Henry—invisible to those who see them ever
y day. From what I’ve picked up in the last couple of days, this Dr Dunn had a job offer at St Leonard’s, but he asked for too much money, knowing they wouldn’t agree. I reckon he already had the other place lined up.”

  “I’m sorry, mate, but doctor, or not, if he’s been there two years, he is one scheming bastard.”

  “You take a good look at his wife the next time you’re down at the A and E Department, and you’ll see what he’s got at home. I don’t know what his mistress looks like, but I’d kill for a night with his wife.”

  “What did you say her name was, Zak?”

  “Heather—Heather Dunn. You can’t miss her, mate—about thirty-ish, six feet tall, long brunette hair, eyes that would give you a hard-on and a figure to worship.”

  Heather had heard enough and stopped eating. She drank her water and waited until the two men left before she paid for her meal and returned to the hospital. Tears had blinded her on the walk back, but she owed the casualties her best efforts, so she’d do her job.

  * * *

  Heather arrived in Oxford with the recently heard conversation on her mind. She located the Eden Vale clinic easily enough. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from the town centre, which meant that if Charles intended to grab a bite to eat as he’d said, it would probably be at somewhere near the clinic.

  Spotting Charles’ car in the clinic car park was simple—there was only one metallic blue Mazda two-seater. Heather ensured that nobody would see her, and then she used the zoom on her camera while taking a picture of the car. It gave her the confidence that she had the range just right, so she left the rental car and walked back towards Oxford town centre.

  It was a lovely town and no doubt the shop displays were excellent too, but Heather didn’t register them—her mind was elsewhere, thinking back over two wasted years with a lying bastard. By the time hunger pangs kicked-in, she was able to eat, because her anger overcame her revulsion of the situation.