Chapter Five

Kiss It Better

Ollie glanced up at the clock on the wall. Nearly four o’clock in the morning. Four hours until his shift ended. He’d spent the remainder of the night avoiding room one and dedicating himself to his other patients. Checking, double-checking, and triple-checking every note and observation chart thoroughly. Even though he was fairly certain Dr. Rawlings had been the one to make the mistake, using Ollie as a way not to have to admit it, Ollie was still shaken by the whole thing. And he was loath to admit how much that was to do with Jacob Monroe and whether the man could read the sordid images still playing on his mind from the doctor’s earlier message.

He was due to take Daisy’s next set of obs, and the trembling in his hands got the better of him. His stomach twisted into knots at the thought of entering that room and Jacob being awake. He hadn’t seen or heard much from him since Daisy’s bout of sickness, although Jacob’s silhouette through the window blinds when he moved around in the room was unmistakable. Ollie hadn’t seen it for a while and mentally crossed his fingers that Jacob had finally succumbed to sleep.

Picking up his tray and trying not to let the contents on top rattle, he tiptoed over and peered in through the blinds to see Daisy asleep on the bed. Jacob, seated in the chair next to her with his back to the window, had his head propped up on his arm. Ollie swallowed. He quietly pushed the door open. Jacob didn’t stir, so Ollie walked in and eased the tray down onto the revolving table.

Taking out his disposable gloves, he risked peeping at the chair. Jacob’s eyes were closed, and his even breaths indicated he could well be asleep, so Ollie set to do everything he needed to with quiet speed. Of course, his trembling hands wouldn’t allow it, and as he picked up the disposable thermometer, the tray fell to the floor with a ting. Ollie cursed under his breath and kneeled down to pick up the now unusable utensils and syringes. He dumped them into the bin, the lid clanging shut. Ollie winced.

“Ollie?”

Ollie met Jacob’s bleary expression. “Sorry. Was trying not to wake you. Which evidently means throwing a bunch of metal equipment onto a hard floor.”

Jacob chuckled, leaning forward in the chair. Ollie’s whole body seemed to relax from its previous tension. How did Jacob do that? It was purely the sight of an exhausted man—it brought out his inner caring side. That’s all.

“Did you get much sleep?” Concern outweighed Ollie’s decision to keep his distance.

“A little,” Jacob replied. “Not much. I can sleep later. No doubt Becky will be back by morning and won’t want me hanging around.”

Ollie nodded, trying not to let the statement affect him either way. “I’ll just go get some more equipment.” Ollie bustled out, using the moment to take a deep breath and compose himself. He returned to the room with a new set of syringes and thermometer and waggled them at Jacob, hoping no more conversation was needed. Ollie ripped the plastic casing off and walked around the side of the bed to pop the thermometer into Daisy’s armpit. He tugged on his fob watch to count the time.

“I know you didn’t do anything wrong,” Jacob said after exactly twenty-four seconds of silence.

Ollie peered over the bed, not knowing what to say.

“I believe you. I don’t want you to think I blame you.”

“We all make mistakes.” Ollie involuntarily uttered the same statement Jacob had used earlier, both seemingly to refer to the doctor’s mistakes. “We’re human. Not computers,” he added with a wink in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“You don’t have to cover for him either.” Jacob stood. “I’m not here to make things difficult for anyone. Least of all Daisy and most certainly not Becky. I’m chalking the incident up as just one of those things. Daisy has been fine since.” Jacob leaned forward to tangle his gaze with Ollie’s. “But don’t think you need to protect him.”

Ollie nodded again and avoided looking into those deep-blue eyes. Zapping his fob watch back, he lifted Daisy’s arm to take out the thermometer and checked it. Jacob retired into his chair as Ollie got on with all his other Daisy-care tasks. Finally finished, he picked up the tray and paused to look over at Jacob. His eyes were fluttering shut, and Ollie desperately tried not to let the feeling of disappointment seep down to his stomach. It did anyway, and Ollie squashed it down and left the room.

* * * *

“I need me some hot pink choccie sugar.” Taya skidded on her Crocs to slide up behind Ollie. “You game?”

She waggled her eyebrows as Ollie turned to smile at her. It was currently approaching eight o’clock, their official off-duty time, and Ollie, desperate for the arrival of the day nurses to do his handover, wanted to disappear home and wrap himself in his duvet. After the important daily tasks, that was.

“Sure. But then I’m going to see my dad.”

“I can come with if you like?” Taya offered. “Keep you company on the walk over?”

“No.” Ollie shook his head, but the swinging doors burst open to drown out anything further and the same tip-tapping heels that had marched through twelve hours earlier came back in full force. Ollie’s gaze followed Becky non-Monroe as she clonked her way to room one. “It’s okay. Need the alone time,” he added to Taya while focusing on the silhouettes through the blind.

Becky shoved Jacob, who hadn’t moved from the chair in three hours. Jacob leaped up and grabbed his coat while Becky flapped her hands in time with the muffled argument that bounded through the walls.

“Cute couple.” Taya pointed the end of her pen across at Daisy Monroe’s room.

“Yeah.”

Jacob stomped out of the room, followed by Becky, and both nurses failed miserably at trying to look busy instead of watching the argument play out.

“You think you can be a father now?” Becky spat.

“I was and will always be her father,” Jacob snapped back. “You cannot shut me out of this.” His trembling finger made the statement that bit more poignant. “I will come back tonight, whether you want me to or not.”

“Why don’t you just post one of your online ads? Get yourself some company while you wait, hmm?”

“Fuck you, Becky,” Jacob half yelled.

Ollie and Taya exchanged glances. Ollie rushed from behind the nurses’ station to stand in between the two and held up his hands in surrender.

“Hey, calm down, guys. This is a children’s hospital.”

Jacob hung his head. “Sorry, Ollie,” he said, voice low.

“Ollie?” Becky glared. “Is nowhere sacred to you, Jacob?”

“Becky,” Jacob urged through gritted teeth.

“Oh, piss off,” Becky replied. “Come back tonight, whatever. But I’m not staying when you are.”

She stomped back into Daisy’s room, slamming the door behind. A stroke of luck that the automatic lights switched on, signifying the start of daytime, and the usual hustle and bustle of breakfast trays and children running about in the corridors ensued. Jacob turned back to Ollie, his head still lowered.

“Can see where Daisy gets her firecracker from, huh?” Ollie smiled.

Jacob let out a shaky breath. “Becky’s more than a firecracker. And she has her reasons.”

Ollie nodded.

“Sorry for the commotion. It won’t happen again.”

Ollie waved him off as if it was nothing.

“Will you be working tonight?”

“Sure am,” Ollie said. “Back on at eight.”

Jacob nodded. He adjusted his trench coat collar to stick up around his neck, bracing himself for the cold morning frost outside. “I guess I’ll see you then?”

Ollie nodded, and he noticed the pause. Eventually Jacob spun on his heels and left, the doors flapping closed behind him.

* * * *

Ollie stood behind Taya in the usual long queue at the independent coffee shop situated on the corner of the street St. Cross stood on. It was always busy in this part of town. So near to Holborn and the financial district of London, this little High Street by the hospital was a mecca for those wanting good quality coffee, decent independent health-food supermarkets, and four-star restaurants. Most of it cost an absolute fortune, but those who worked in these parts could afford it. Luckily for Taya and Ollie, the local independents offered a 25 percent discount for all National Health Service staff, which meant that the queues not only held those wearing suits and carrying briefcases but also those with stethoscopes needing a caffeine fix after a twelve-hour night shift.

Taya reached the serving counter, ordered her Rainbow Hot Chocolate monstrosity and raised an eyebrow at Ollie. He shook his head and glanced around the shop. His stomach did an unexpected flip at the hunched figure of a man on the tatty brown leather sofa stirring a spoon into a cup of perfectly constructed coffee. Ollie’s whole body wanted to trot on over, offer his usual smile and idle chitchat, but something kept him where he was. Maybe the pull of the New Year’s resolution?

“Want your usual?”

Ollie heard Taya’s question, but his mind answered something else entirely.

“Ollie?”

Ollie snapped out of his staring but not before Jacob lifted weary eyes from the coffee cup and met his.

“Um, no.” Ollie shook his head. “I need caffeine. Get me a latte.”

By the time Ollie shifted his gaze back, Jacob had stood and was zipping up his coat. Probably in a rush to get out of Ollie’s sight. He couldn’t blame the man. But he was completely stumped when Jacob approached him.

“Ollie,” he greeted.

“Jacob.” Ollie nodded back.

There was a brief pause, until Taya stuck her head between them.

“Taya.”

“Sorry, Taya, this is Jacob,” Ollie waved a hand to Jacob and offered a welcoming smile. “Daisy Monroe, room one, father.”

“I know, honeybunch,” Taya replied. “Work the same ward you do.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Ollie babbled, and the queue shuffled forward to receive its drinks from the end counter.

Jacob nodded to the take-out cup Ollie picked up. “If that’s one of these lattes, you won’t be sleeping anytime soon. The caffeine was especially rich.”

“Yeah. They like to keep us nurses awake, no matter what time of day.”

They staggered through the throng of customers toward the exit, Taya following behind licking up her mound of cream and chocolate candies.

“I’m off to see my dad now, so I need the pick-me-up.”

Stepping down to the street, Jacob nodded. Taya licked more of the cream off, lifted up on tiptoes and kissed Ollie’s cheek.

“Say hi to your dad for me,” she said. “Bus is here.” True; the 252 pulled in on time for once, and Taya ran to hop on, leaving Ollie standing alone with Jacob.

“Whereabouts is your father?” Jacob asked.

“Oh, not far.” Ollie nodded across the road, as if that helped explain the location of the nursing home in the whole capital city. “Fifteen-minute walk from here. Toward Angel.”

“Want some company on the walk?”

“You going that way?”

“I can.” Jacob smiled. “My flat’s Shoreditch way, but I don’t tend to live there much. It’s not particularly welcoming. I could use the cold air to clear my head.” Jacob suddenly paused. “Of course, don’t think you have to. Totally understand if you’d rather be alone.”

“I’d kill for some company.” Ollie grinned. “With an ax.”

While it should have been a pleasant stroll through the streets of London, it being early morning rush hour meant Ollie often had to hop behind or in front of Jacob to allow commuters to push past. So the conversation didn’t flow freely. There was the odd droplet of information, pointing out of local pubs and recommended restaurants, places Ollie cycled on the days it wasn’t freezing icy sleet on the roads. He talked about how he was making a playlist from all the old vinyls his father had loved in his youth and how he still needed to sort out all his father’s keepsakes being stored at his mother’s place, his mother finding the task all too much to do herself. Ollie wasn’t finding it awkward—rather oddly comfortable. Like he had done this walk a thousand times with the man beside him, whom he had only met a few hours ago.

Clutching his empty cup of latte in his thick-gloved hands, Ollie stopped at the gated entrance to the Acorn Nursing Home. A gleaming silver plaque on the gate announced it was privately run. No NHS here—this was top of the range. Only the wealthy afforded this type of final-destination place for their loved ones. Ollie wasn’t wealthy. But the down payment from the doctor had helped secure his father’s place, and the monthly installments he and his mother shared, contributions, along with his father’s decent pension from the Royal Mail, meant they had been able to keep him there. Ollie wasn’t sure for how long. Dementia could go on and on. His father could still be alive for another twenty years, and Ollie didn’t want to work out how much money that would cost him and his mother. Not that he begrudged a penny; it was just a crying shame that it could see his mother destitute before she was able to retire herself.

“This is my stop.” Ollie nodded at the gate.

“Right, yes.” Jacob gave the place a once-over. He brushed his flowing hair away from his face with a gloved hand. “Want me to take that?” he asked, indicating Ollie’s empty cup. “I’ll shove it in the bin on the way to the station.” He glanced around the road and scrunched his nose like a twitching bunny, obviously realizing there wasn’t a trash can in the vicinity.

Ollie chuckled, handing over his cup. “Turn left at the end of the road. You’ll see the Tube station sign. Not far.”

Jacob nodded with a smile, and his fingers brushed Ollie’s as he slipped the cup from Ollie’s hands. Not that Ollie could feel any electricity of the touch—the thick wool of both their gloves prevented it. As did his New Year’s resolution.

“Right, thanks.” Jacob rooted around in his pocket. As he pulled out his Oyster card, it fell to the ground, and they both immediately crouched to pick it up. Each gripping an end, they stood up in perfect unison, neither allowing their gaze to falter from the other. Ollie didn’t want to let go. Even through Ollie’s glove, Jacob’s warmth drifted across the plastic wallet to him. By letting go, he would end all this nonsense.

Jacob tugged at the card, and Ollie was a little ashamed when he didn’t let go. He smiled, playfully, to mask his true reason for clinging on. Jacob breathed out a laugh. When he suddenly tugged again, a touch more forcefully than previously, Ollie fell forward, crushing the card between his and Jacob’s chests. Finally letting the card go, Ollie dragged his hand down to his side, but he didn’t move away. He couldn’t. Jacob’s breath warmed his otherwise freezing face, and those piercing blue eyes delved into his soul. He was even more flummoxed when the card fell to the ground once again and neither made a move to retrieve it. And Ollie was poleaxed when Jacob’s gloved hand curled around his own.

“Jacob,” Ollie breathed. It was meant to be an urging plea for him to stop. To move away because Ollie couldn’t do either himself. Instead the word fell from his tongue like a teasing call.

Jacob responded to his name with a light press of his lips to Ollie’s. Jacob’s eyes closed, but Ollie’s remained wide open, proving this wasn’t all a dream. Jacob trembled against his mouth, and Ollie’s heart rate elevated to levels he couldn’t count with his fob watch. Realizing he had to be the one to do the right thing, Ollie stepped back.

“Jacob,” Ollie said again, his voice finding its vigor this time.

“Oh God, Ollie.” Jacob shook his head and took a few steps back to increase the gap between them. “Shit. I don’t—”

Ollie opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed Jacob was determined to bolt.

“No, Ollie, I’m so totally sorry.” Jacob crouched down to pick up his card. As he stood, he locked eyes with Ollie. Regret. Fear. Remorse—it was all there in those baby blues. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Right.” Ollie kicked at the crunch of frozen moss between the paving slabs. “You’re under a lot of stress, right now,” he said, finally looking at Jacob. “People do strange things when they’re under stress. It’s fine.”

This time, Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and so Ollie squeezed his arm, nurse-style, and met his gaze.

“It’s okay,” Ollie said. “We’ll forget it ever happened.” Jacob didn’t respond, so Ollie took his hand away and pressed the buzzer on the entrance gate. “Go get some sleep,” he said over his shoulder. “Things’ll look different in the morning. Or evening. Whatever. Time bears no relation when you work the night shift.”

Jacob still didn’t move, nor say anything. The voice through the buzzer interrupted anything that could have been said, anyway.

“Ollie Warne,” Ollie spoke through the speaker. “To see Gregory.”

The gate unlocked and opened. Ollie threw Jacob a smile before walking through. The gates closed behind on that moment, and on Jacob, and on any further feelings.

“Hey, Dad.” Minutes later, Ollie was in his father’s room, where he threw his bag down by his father’s bed and scraped his coat off. “How you doing?”

His father sat on the comfy seat looking out of the window onto the private garden, tray table up to his chest bearing a cup filled with tea and leftover breakfast of toast and cereal. His father appeared the perfect picture of health. He was still solid, albeit with wrinkling skin, his hair a glorious shade of silver, and they always made sure he dressed impeccably well. Today was a white shirt with brown pinstripes, a red woolen sweater vest, and a pair of dark-blue suit trousers. His brown slippers had the words I heart Dad on each foot, courtesy of Ollie’s little sister. But it was what went on inside Gregory that had caused him to be ripped from his home and family.

“Very well, very well,” Gregory Warne replied with a firm nod.

Ollie kissed his father on the cheek, then edged away and perched on the end of the bed.

“Although, the eggs weren’t up to much today.”

“It was toast and jam, today, Pops,” Ollie replied. “And cornflakes, by the looks of things.”

“Right, right,” his father said with a swift shake of his head.

Ollie hated that look in his father’s eyes. The vacant expression where his father knew something was wrong but couldn’t place it, so sank back into the seat and avoided further conversation through fear he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Ollie picked at his nails, staring at the carpeted floor. He glanced up toward the door on seeing a nurse shuffle by. He offered up a smile, and she returned it. The staff at the nursing home too, had categories of smiles through which Ollie was able to decipher, without the use of accompanying words, the current status of his father’s health. The nurse continued on, meaning there was no other news to report. There never really was, anymore. His father was in the midstages, rapidly increasing to the late.

“And how’s that young man of yours?” Gregory asked out of nowhere. “Tell me all.”

Ollie had grabbed a leftover slice of toast from his father’s tray. He swallowed down the bite he’d taken. “No young men, Pops. Or old ones for that matter. Anymore.”

“Oh.” Gregory furrowed his brow once more. “I’m sure…” He waved a hand at his bedside cabinet.

Ollie noted the diary on the side, the place Gregory stored photos and messages to help him remember who people were. Ollie jumped up and grabbed the book, handing it to his father. Gregory’s shaky hands ruffled through the pages and finally slipped out a glossy picture torn out of a magazine. He held it up to Ollie.

“They’re the Vamps.” Ollie chuckled at the red heart drawn with marker pen over one of the boys’ faces. “Tilly’s new obsession. They’re a band, Pops.”

“Right.” Gregory nodded as if he understood.

Ollie knew he didn’t, and it tore his heart in two.

“And your operation, it went well?”

Ollie hung his head. Of all the memories lost in his father’s frazzled mind, the one thing that never faltered was of Tilly and her many hospital stays, operations, and chemo that had controlled much of her infant life. It didn’t matter that Ollie stood there, a full-grown man at twenty-four—his father could only see his little sister.

“Yes, Pops.” Ollie resigned himself to the fact his father no longer remembered he had a son. “All went fine. She’s healthy.”

“Good.” Gregory waggled a finger. “I will still walk you down that aisle.”

Ollie slid the picture back into his father’s diary and skimmed the slim book onto the bed. He lowered his backside onto the end once more and dragged his feet on the soft fibers of the carpet. His father gave a tuneful hum. Ollie wasn’t sure what song it was, but he hoped it was one his father and mother would have danced to during their early ballroom-evening courting days. If he could remember it, he would replicate it down the phone to his mother later in order to give her some renewed hope.

“Something bothering you?” Gregory asked.

Ollie snapped up to meet his father’s eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw his father behind them. Like he could really see him. As if he knew it was Ollie there and not his precious miracle daughter.

“Can I tell you something?” Ollie asked.

“Yes, of course,” Gregory replied. “You take this tray away. The smell of eggs is making me sick.”

Ollie nodded and slid the tray from his father’s table. He handed the uneaten breakfast to the nearest nurse out in the corridor and leaned back on the bed to face his father. Gregory sat forward, elbows resting on his knees and a smile on his face that warmed Ollie’s heart. Whether he understood the conversation or even knew who he was having it with, the fact Gregory looked interested was nothing short of a miracle.

“I kissed a patient’s father today,” Ollie blurted out. “Or more, he kissed me. I stopped it before it went any further than a peck, but I didn’t want to, Dad, I really didn’t want to.” Ollie sat up fully, dangling his legs down so his heels hit the bed’s metal poles. “It’s beyond unethical. I’m caring for his daughter after heart surgery. He’s a father. I’m not even sure if he’s gay. I mean, he’s not with the mother. That clearly ended badly.”

Ollie rolled his eyes and glanced away. He turned back to his father. Gregory was still listening intently, but Ollie was unsure if he understood anything. Not that Ollie minded so much. If he’d thought his father could understand, he probably wouldn’t have been telling him. “I think the man, Jacob, is confused and scared and maybe I just offered him comfort? It can’t be anything more than that. We just met. But, oh God, Pops, this heart”—he tapped his chest—“has never beat so fast before.”

His father waved a hand, indicating Ollie should come to him. Ollie sank to his knees by his father’s feet and squinted up at the man who had taught him everything. Compassion, ambition, and how family and love came first, regardless. Memories flickered through Ollie’s mind. All the memories his father had forgotten bit by bit. The memories Ollie now had to hold on to tightly for them both. Ollie’s first time riding a bike, learning to swim, catching a ball. Moments that were soon clouded over and dulled after his sister had gotten so ill. Playtimes with Ollie had ceased to exist from the moment Tilly had been admitted to hospital. That was when his dad had taught him the most valuable lesson of all—accepting that Ollie’s needs always came after his sister’s.

He never failed to believe his father loved him. It was just that Tilly had needed their father so much more.

“When that heart beats,” his father said, placing a hand to Ollie’s chest, “it means you are alive.”

Ollie smiled. His eyes began to well behind his glasses. He tugged his father’s hands to his lips and kissed them.

“Thanks, Pops.”

Gregory ruffled Ollie’s hair and sat back.

“You should get all your hair back soon, Tilly,” he said. “It’ll grow again and that man will love you.”

Ollie bowed his head. Sniffing, he didn’t notice the one tear escaping past his glasses lens until it reached his lips. He swiped it away with his tongue, tasting the bitter salty residue.