Chapter Fourteen

Misdiagnosis

“Hey, Kwesi, how’s it going?”

Ollie couldn’t mask his disappointment. Of course the shadow wouldn’t belong to Jacob. Kwesi was at least four inches shorter, less broad in the shoulders, his skin markedly darker, with one arm a prosthetic from the elbow down. Jacob was long gone, and Ollie probably a mere distant memory already. Like all the others were. So Ollie put on his welcoming smile to greet Kwesi, the hospital’s cardiology secretary.

“I’m well, thanks, Ollie.” Kwesi returned the smile, but, an office worker, his wasn’t so bright, and apprehension glimmered behind it, especially when he scrubbed a hand through his closely cropped black hair.

“You getting breakfast before work?” Ollie asked. “Might want to get in the queue before Taya goes up for her second lot.”

Taya stuck out her tongue.

“Ah, no.”

Kwesi rummaged through the satchel slung over his shoulder. He produced a white envelope, the hospital stamp mark evident on the top corner and Ollie’s name scrawled on the front. His full name. Mr. Oliver Warne.

“Sorry, Ollie. I was told I had to give you this before you went off for your four-day break between shifts.”

Ollie nodded. He slipped the envelope from Kwesi’s hand. He bit his lip on recognizing the messy handwriting. Why was it doctors had to be so illegible? It was just another arrogant trait. Like they didn’t need anyone to have to read their words. No one would understand them other than doctors, anyway. Dr. Rawlings could still show his superiority and dominance over Ollie merely in writing his name on a damn envelope. An official envelope. For an official letter.

Ollie folded it in half and tucked it into his puffer jacket. “Thanks.”

Kwesi nodded, looking as though he’d rather not have been that messenger service. So Ollie, good old people-pleasing Ollie, had to do something to prove he didn’t blame the guy.

“How’s that man of yours?”

Kwesi’s smile grew wider. It almost rivaled Ollie’s. Actually, it did: it was genuine.

“He’s doing well. Hopefully he’ll be back from the charity drive soon.”

“That’s great. Looking forward to finally meeting him.”

Kwesi nodded, his grin not fading. He made his way out of the canteen, and Ollie caught Taya’s arched eyebrow.

“What, you didn’t know he was gay?”

“I didn’t know the whole damn hospital was. No wonder I can’t get a date around here.”

“You fancied Kwesi?”

Taya shrugged. “He may have been on my list. Which I will now delete.” She pointed. “What’s the letter?”

Ollie sighed. “I’m pretty certain that it is my written warning of gross misconduct.”

“Fuck. Would he really have done that?”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah. I believe he really would.”

“You can fight it. Tell them about Elliot and you.”

“No point. It’s fine. Maybe I can get a job at my dad’s nursing home or something. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Taya gave him one of those looks. The one she gave to soothe parents in the ward. The one that Ollie gave his patients too. The one that signified she knew this was awful bad news, but that she had to maintain a brave face in order to not have to deal with the aftermath of a breakdown. Amazing how much could be communicated in just one look. Not just categories of smiles within nursing—also an array of expressions all really doing one thing: providing sympathy.

“Bus.” Taya looked down at her wristwatch and scraped back her chair.

Ollie gathered up the rubbish from the table, along with the loose change, and jogged over to the bin to dump the containers. On returning, he dropped the coins into the charity pot. Taya linked her arm with his and practically dragged him out of the canteen and through the now bustling corridors of the hospital.

With day shift starting, appointment queues filled every wing, and orderly staff rushed beds and wheelchairs to different parts of the hospital. St. Cross continued on regardless, and Ollie’s stomach plummeted—he might not be part of it much longer.

Outside, Ollie shivered. The snowfall had made way for rain, and Taya squealed as they pelted across the road toward the bus stop where for once the red Routemaster pulled in on time. Ollie paused.

“You coming?” Taya asked.

“Think I might head to my dad’s.” Ollie freed Taya’s arm and tucked his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers brushing the envelope within. “Might as well get the ball rolling on that one.”

“Go get some sleep first, Ollie.” Taya tapped her card on the reader. “Things might look different in the morning.” She shrugged. “Evening, whatever.”

“I don’t think I could sleep right now, anyway.”

He waved her off and followed her walk along the row of seats. She kissed her fingers, sticking them to the window after, and Ollie tapped them back through the glass. The bus pulled out of the stop, and Ollie was left alone to walk to the nursing home. He recalled every step of these paths with Jacob. He’d done the walk many more times alone, but somehow that one time with Jacob would now make him feel forever isolated.

So engulfed in his own bubble, he couldn’t even move out of the way of rushing commuters. His shoulder was bumped a few times, but he could not muster the ability to apologize or offer a smile. This New Year had only been a couple of weeks, and yet he’d spectacularly lost everything within the short space of time. Some of it had been needed. But never had he thought that removing Elliot from his life would be followed up by losing his job. Which, now, would lose his father his care home.

Funny, though, how none of that compared to losing a man he hadn’t even known before this week. Jacob had such presence; it seemed he’d been in Ollie’s life forever. Perhaps he had. In Ollie’s dreams. Ollie scrubbed a hand over his face. Fucking hell, what a complete sap. Ollie had lost any belief over the years that romance even existed. Of course Elliot hadn’t allowed for romanticism. Unless it had been part of his game.

Ollie laughed at the absurdity as he arrived at the gates of the care home. Even that spot as he rang the buzzer made his stomach flutter—the place he and Jacob had shared their first kiss. Ultimately starting the decline of Ollie Warne. Did Jacob even know what Ollie had sacrificed by allowing his advances? Would he even care if he did? Jacob’s thoughts were for his daughter. Where they should be. Not with some stranger.

It had started snowing, but Ollie didn’t even feel the flakes landing on his shoulders and hair. He was numb to everything around him. Well, he’d certainly fall back down to earth with a bump when he had to explain that he could no longer keep his father in the care home and needed to find an alternative, or even take him in himself. He was a nurse—he supposed he could use his compulsory training to look after his father at home. A carer’s allowance certainly wasn’t much, but Ollie couldn’t think about his own money just then.

“Morning, Ollie.”

Ollie managed to put on a smile to greet Claudine, the manager, at the front desk.

“He’s just had breakfast—feel free to go through.”

His father sat in his usual seat, headphones on and eyes closed. But the slight tapping of his fingers on his thighs and the brief elevation of his lips indicated that he was happy listening to one of his favorite CDs. So Ollie thought perhaps it was best to get the awkward business over with first.

“Actually, Claudine, could I speak with you first?”

“Everything okay, Ollie?” Claudine dropped her paper file to the desk and tilted her head.

Ollie scrubbed a hand along his forehead. He swallowed. Doing this was going to lose the deposit. Not to mention he’d have to pay a penalty of some description, sending his limited overdraft further into the red. There was simply no way he could ask his mother to contribute. This had to be his failing to deal with. The only way his mother could afford to keep his father here would be to sell their family home. Ollie couldn’t allow that.

“Can we talk?” Ollie glanced around the busy lounge filled with residents on various sofas and high-back chairs, either reading or playing various card or board games. Most, though, stared vacantly into space. “Privately?”

Claudine ushered Ollie over to the manager’s office. Ollie sat with a heavy sigh while Claudine perched on the edge of her desk. She was a nice lady. Ollie liked her. She had a tough job, with all the funding cuts to social care recently, but her heart was in the right place. That didn’t mean, however, she was going to take losing a hefty lot of income any easier.

“I’m afraid I can’t keep my father here any longer.” Ollie scratched at the denim on his jeans.

“Right.” Claudine shuffled up on the desk to cross her legs and fold her arms. “Are you not happy with his care here?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Ollie adjusted his glasses. “His care has been first-rate. And I thank you and all your staff for taking such good care of him. I really couldn’t have asked for a better place for him to be. Which is why this is really a difficult decision, but one I unfortunately have to make.”

Claudine nodded. “May I ask why? And where you plan to place him next?”

“I’ll take him in.”

“Ollie, I know you’re a nurse, but caring for someone with your father’s condition, twenty-four-seven, is actually a lot harder than when it’s your chosen job. For which you’re paid.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Caring for relatives,” Claudine continued, “while admirable and sometimes the best thing for the patient, can have a huge impact on those doing the caring. It will drain you. Some days he may be perfectly fine, but others he will be extremely difficult to handle. I have to warn you that those days will be especially hard for you to witness. Without support, it can be very isolating and may have repercussions on your own health and well-being.”

“I am aware of all those things. Believe me.”

“Right, well, I am sorry to hear you can no longer keep him here.” Claudine stood and walked to the back of her desk, wiggling the mouse on her laptop. “When will you be taking him?”

“How long is he paid up until?”

“I’ll have to check the finances.” Claudine sat in her leather swivel chair and spun it around to face Ollie. Her features softened. “Are you sure, Ollie? Is there something we can do to help?”

Ollie shook his head. “I have no other option. But thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

Ollie felt as though Claudine wanted to say something further. Perhaps another lecture on how much of a burden his father was going to be. Ollie didn’t want to hear it. This was his father. He had to take care of him. Like Gregory had Tilly for all those years. It’s what families do. Ollie hung his head with the sudden realization. That was what Jacob had to do. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ollie sighed. He nodded a grateful thanks to Claudine.

“I’ll check your father’s account.” Claudine swung back to the computer screen. “You go visit him. I’ll let you know the outcome before you leave.”

His father, still listening to his CD, had his eyes closed. Ollie decided to just let him be. He busied himself around the bed, plugging his phone into his dad’s charging station and reorganizing the items displayed on his cabinet. Checking each photo in the frame, he smiled. He folded the pajamas laid out on the bed and tucked in the corners of the sheets more securely. Nurse habit.

His chest tightened. How could he explain all this to his father? He wouldn’t understand. Even if he was of completely sound mind. What could he say? That Ollie had spectacularly managed to destroy not only his professional career but his father’s stability by being a poor judge of character? Giving bad news wasn’t something he had ever gotten used to. Giving awful news to parents who weren’t his own seemed so much easier. He could remain distanced from it all. He could act as the shoulder to cry on. Whose shoulder could Ollie cry on now? Certainly not Gregory Warne’s.

Ollie cautiously paced over to his father’s chair and sank to his knees. Sliding a hand on top of Gregory’s, Ollie breathed in deeply.

“Pops?”

Gregory opened his eyes, shock and confusion spreading across his face. Ollie slipped the headphones off for him and placed them on the tray table next to the old-style CD player.

“How you doing, Pops?”

Gregory beamed. His smile lifted his drooping skin and brightened his blue eyes behind the dark-rimmed glasses.

“Oliver.” Gregory slid his other hand on top of Ollie’s, his voice cracking. “What a lovely surprise.”

The blood rushed through Ollie at hearing his name finally uttered from his father’s lips. For a brief moment, Ollie was transported back to earlier times. Back when he’d been this man’s son.

“What were you listening to?”

Gregory turned his head toward the CD player. His brow furrowed. Ollie bit his lip. He needed to stop asking the man questions. Even simple ones.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay. You looked happy, so I’ll bet it was one of those old dance-hall numbers, right? Where you were serenading Mum? Did she look beautiful?”

“She’s always beautiful.” Gregory dipped his head. “Everyone is rather jealous of me.”

“I don’t doubt it, Pops. But I also bet that the girls were all jealous of Mum too.”

Gregory tapped his fingers on Ollie’s hand. Ollie took a deep breath and steadied himself from wobbling on his feet.

“I’m taking you home, Dad.”

Gregory’s eyes widened.

“I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

“I’m going home?”

Ollie nodded. “Yes. We can listen to those CDs all day long. You can teach me how to dance properly.”

Gregory squeezed Ollie’s hand tightly. His eyes glistened beneath his thick glass lenses. “I’ll teach you to dance, and you’ll be snapped up by all the girls.” Gregory smiled. “Young and oldies.”

Ollie snorted a laugh. Biting down on his lost resolve, he decided to let that one lie there. He wasn’t going to relive that conversation again. Not that it had been a bad one. More nonchalant, really. His parents had been dealing with Tilly when he’d finally admitted to them he was gay. I guess they didn’t have the brain space to process the information. Maybe, now, in hindsight, his father had pushed that knowledge down into the depths of his memory to never recall. Was that why whenever Ollie mentioned a man in his life, Gregory automatically assumed he was talking with Tilly? It hurt. But Ollie had more pressing matters to attend to than his own feelings.

“What about your job?” Gregory asked, and concern flickered behind his watery eyes. His father was having one of his good days.

“I’ve decided to quit.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “I’m going to take care of you instead.”

“What?”

Ollie whipped around at the female voice from the open doorway. He stood.

His mother’s bright-blue eyes were wide with horror. His sister gave Ollie a softer look from beneath her pink-rimmed glasses that matched the clip she wore to hold back her short pixie-style blonde hair. She mouthed something to Ollie he couldn’t decipher. Not over his heart hammering too loudly at his mother’s stern expression.

“Ma, you don’t usually visit this early.”

“Tilly had an inset day. Now don’t change the subject, Oliver, what is going on?”

“Vera?” Gregory’s voice, although confused, elevated hopefully.

Ollie’s mother planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek and he gripped her hand, tugging on it.

“Did the operation go well?”

Ollie hung his head and shut his eyes. His mother perched on the edge of Gregory’s seat.

“Yes, dear, all went fine.”

“Oh, that is good news. We should get Tilly that new My Little Pony she’s always asking for. A bravery gift.”

“Pops.” Tilly crouched where Ollie had been. “I like the Vamps now.”

Gregory ruffled his daughter’s hair, making the clip slide away. She readjusted it to pin back her fringe.

“And how is that young man?” Gregory asked. “I hope he is treating you well.”

Tilly peered up to meet Ollie’s gaze. Ollie shrugged.

“What young man, Pops?” she asked.

“What was his name, Oliver?” Gregory tapped his knees, and Ollie could almost hear the creaking cogs of his father’s mind working overtime. “Ah, yes, Jacob.”

Ollie caught the looks of confusion spreading from his mother and sister. The mention of Jacob’s name had Ollie’s stomach fluttering. This time, however, it wasn’t with excitement. Jacob’s name was now ingrained in his father’s messed mind, like it was on his own. How could one man have made this much of an impact on his life in such a short space of time? Ollie almost despised him for it. It had been years since his father had remembered anything about Ollie’s life or the visitors he had brought to the care home. That had only been Taya and Elliot. Yet it was Jacob who had become so important. Even if his father did think Jacob belonged to Tilly.

“I think Jacob might be Ollie’s man, Pops.” Tilly smiled and winked up at Ollie.

“Well, I have told Ollie he must do the big-brother talk with him. We want our Tils treated like a princess.” Gregory glanced up to Ollie. “Right, Oliver?”

“Right, Pops,” Ollie mumbled.

His mother stood from her perch, hands on hips. “Now would you like to explain what is going on here? You’ve quit?”

“Yes,” Ollie lied again. He shrugged. “Sort of. I’m going to take Dad home. I’ll take care of him.”

His mother’s voice rose. “In a third-floor flat?”

Ollie hadn’t thought that bit through. He was about to say he would be coming home to his mother’s until he saw the look in her eyes. She’d like nothing more than to have her husband home. But Gregory wasn’t exactly the man she had married. And while the love would always be there, his mother couldn’t cope with Gregory’s erratic mind, sudden outbursts, and unexpected wanderings in the night. She had tried. She had tried for years. Her pained expression as she raised her eyebrows at her son spoke all that history in volumes.

“I’ll get a ground-floor flat,” Ollie replied.

“Like it’s that easy.” Vera clamped her fingers to her mouth. “Why?”

“We can’t afford it, Mum.” Ollie lowered his voice, doing his best to keep it light and not scare his father, who hummed while stroking through Tilly’s hair. “It was probably foolish of me to think we could keep him here.”

“But what about the guarantor?” Vera’s voice trembled. “You said the hospital was supporting this.”

Ollie closed his eyes. Moment of truth. “I’m afraid that has now fallen through.”

Vera frowned. Tilly stood and reached out to curl her hand in Ollie’s. Ollie squeezed it back for the limited comfort it gave and inhaled a weary breath.

“I think perhaps there’s some things I need to tell you.”

* * * *

Ollie zipped up his coat and sat with a heavy sigh on the bench outside in the nursing home’s front courtyard. He glanced up at the sky, heavy and thick with dark clouds. The bench was frozen. Icicles hung from the windows looking into the communal lounge. But Ollie didn’t care that the freezing water seeped through his trousers to coat his arse.

All he could see was his mother’s face as he recounted to her everything that had happened. Not just the last few days, but the years he’d been secretly seeing the doctor. He hadn’t bothered with an edited, nor revised, version. He’d just decided to let it all out like some therapeutic counseling session. He guessed his mother was finding it difficult to come to terms with Ollie’s spectacular misjudgment and failures—she hadn’t said a word and had allowed Ollie to walk out so he could sob in private. Ollie had always been the stable one in their family unit. Vera had never needed to worry about him before. Well, Ollie had now added a bunch of shit for his mother to stress about, along with her husband’s care and her daughter’s health.

Ollie felt like shit. But it wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve.

“Want some company?”

His sister handed down Ollie’s phone to him, wrapped her thick cardigan around her and scooted to sit beside him. Her skin so pale her face appeared almost blue against the outside security light. Ollie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in. She rested her head on his chest and he kissed her temple.

“Mum’ll get over it,” she mumbled into his puffer jacket.

“I know.”

“She’s just angry.”

“I know.”

“Not with you. With the world, I think.”

“I think, this time, it might be a little to do with me.” Ollie rubbed her arm and rested his chin on the top of her head. “And the disappointment is much harder to take than the anger.”

Tilly didn’t say anything, so Ollie closed his eyes. It pained him to think his sister might now think differently of him. There always came a point where the once idealistic views of older siblings and parents were quashed, making way for seeing them as humans. Real people who made real mistakes. Ollie had seen his parents’ flaws early on when discovering they weren’t superheroes who hadn’t been able to stop Tilly’s pain.

“Well, if you ask me,” Tilly finally said, breaking the silence, “this doctor sounds like a right arsehole.”

Ollie laughed. “Yeah. He can be. But he’s also helped Dad, and it’s my fault he won’t be doing that anymore.”

Tilly slipped out from under his arm and looked him the eye. “That’s bullshit.”

“Tils, your potty mouth has gotten worse since you went back to that school.”

“Don’t patronize me, Ollie.” She slapped his leg. “I saw and heard a lot while stuck in a hospital bed, y’know. When people think I’m not listening, they say stuff. I heard more than my fair share of curse words from Pops, from Mum.” She pointed a finger. “From you.”

“All right, all right. Keep your hair on.”

Tilly slapped him hard on the chest with the back of her hand. Ollie recoiled and rubbed through his puffer coat. After a while, Tilly snorted with laughter. Just hearing that sound made Ollie smile.

“It sounds to me like this doctor was a bit of a user,” Tilly stated, matter-of-factly. “He used your vulnerability to get what he wanted. Like on Real Housewives the other day.”

“Tilly, please don’t watch that absolute trash.”

“Why not? It’s got some cute blokes in it. You’d like it. If this doctor really loved you, I don’t think he would have fired you. He certainly wouldn’t see our dad chucked out of here, and he wouldn’t put a mark on your record. So…” Tilly ruffled Ollie’s hair. “Did he really love you?”

Ollie paused for a moment. Such maturity on sixteen-year-old shoulders. It was a shame his sister knew how the world worked even though most of her childhood and adolescence she hadn’t really been able to be a part of it. Ollie tucked his hands into his pockets, hitting the envelope still scrunched inside. He pulled it out, staring at the scrawled handwriting for a moment. Had Elliot loved him? He wasn’t sure the man had been capable of it.

Sighing, Ollie flipped the envelope around to tear through the gummed-down fold. He slipped the letter from inside and sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to open it. Nor to read the sordid words.

Tilly snatched it from his hand and unfolded the paper. Ollie was about to protest before he realized it was probably better to hear it from someone else.

“Who’s Rebecca Daley?”

Ollie furrowed his brow. He shook his head, confused. Until it slowly dawned on him. He hadn’t remembered her surname. He just knew it wasn’t Monroe. He’d been made aware of that. Loud and clear.

“Becky.”

“With the good hair?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Who’s Becky?”

“Jacob’s ex. Daisy—the child I’d been caring for—her mother.”

“Oh.” Tilly bit her lip, her gaze darting across the page. “This makes sense then.”

“Christ.” Ollie rubbed his thumbs into his eyes. “Has he written absolutely everything?”

Tilly met Ollie’s gaze. She held it, face expressionless. Then she smiled and whipped the letter around. Ollie snatched it from her and speed-read the words. There was no mention of gross misconduct. There was no mention of any type of misconduct at all. In fact, there was no mention of Ollie’s name anywhere. The letter wasn’t even addressed to him. It was addressed to Ms. Rebecca Daley. And cc’d at the bottom was Mr. Jacob Monroe, with a note explaining there was no forwarding address for the father and that this was a copy of the original letter.

“It’s to prevent her leaving the country.”

Tilly nodded. “I can see that, dummy.”

“Do you think he’s given me this in order to pass it to Jacob?”

“Erm, ya-ha.” Tilly whacked his leg. “So you better go find him. Like, now.”

Ollie stood, folding the letter to tuck it back into his pocket with hands that shook. “Go!” Tilly pushed him away. “Quick. Run for the airport like some cheesy chick flick!”

Ollie laughed, nodded, and was about to do just that when he glanced through the window of the nursing home. His mother lowered his father into one of the chairs in the communal area and met his gaze through the glass.

“Shit,” Ollie cursed.

“Language, Ollie.”

Ollie shook his head. “What about Dad?”

“Ollie?” Claudine, arms wrapped around herself to stave off the cold, headed toward him. “Glad I caught you.”

“Problem?”

“No, no problem. You asked how long he’s paid up until? Well, we had a payment accepted yesterday. Full year.”

“What?”

“Full fees for a year up-front. He can remain here until then. I mean, you are welcome to discharge him into your own care. but we wouldn’t return the payment. It’s nonrefundable, I’m afraid. But if you decide to keep him here, then we will need the name of your next guarantor once the funds have run out.”

Ollie scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t understand.”

“Dr. Elliot Rawlings submitted the funds for one year but asked for his name to be removed from the account. It means if you don’t have the funds by this time next year, we would need another name to secure his care.” Claudine shivered as the snow began to fall more heavily from the sky. “Or, by then, your income may be enough to cover it. I’m sure you’ll have reached senior nurse status by then.”

Ollie’s mouth hung open. He was frozen to the spot, and it wasn’t the snowfall that was doing it. He shook his head, trying to take in everything that had happened. Until Tilly kicked his leg.

“Go, you wally!”

Ollie snapped out of his trance. He yanked his sister up from the bench and hugged her fiercely. Then, without any further ado, Ollie dashed toward the exit gates before he could realize he had no clue where Jacob would be or how to contact him