

### Radiographers Do It In Monochrome

### (Fun Working as a Radiographer)

### Published by

### B. B. Blunt

### Copyright B B Blunt 2017

Smashwords License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient, If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations and incidents portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious. Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters, incidents or history of any person, product or entity in coincidental and unintentional.

The hospitals mentioned in this book do not exist; they are a figment of my imagination.

Finally, the NHS is a publicly funded national healthcare system for England. It was formed on 5th July 1948. Free healthcare at point of use comes from the core principles at the founding of the NHS in 1948. It is the envy of the world.

There is no intention to belittle the work done by any employee working for the NHS. I believe they do a tremendous job with insufficient resources and under great stress, but with compassion and respect for their patients and with buckets of humour.

Chapter 1 - Toothbrush!

'It's a toothbrush. Definitely a toothbrush,' said Rachel with wonder in her voice as she and Steph at the outline on the fluorescent screen. 'I can even see the tiny hole in the handle where it can be hung on a hook.'

'Did Mr. Stafford say how it happened?' asked Steph.

Rachel shrugged, 'He was cleaning his teeth.' Steph waited, but the girl didn't explain.

'OK, but how did he manage to swallow it? Shoving a toothbrush down your throat isn't normal dental hygiene practice. Was he trying to scratch his tonsils?'

'His toothbrush is one of those you can rub your tongue with, and he was doing that when he heard the doorbell. He jumped and the toothbrush slid down his throat.'

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star could be heard tinkling from outside the X-ray room.

'What's that?' asked Steph.

The student radiographer laughed, 'It's his boxer shorts. He said he was naked when he cleaned his teeth and when he realised he had to get to hospital he pulled on the first pair of boxer shorts he found. They were from an ex-girlfriend last Christmas. He says he's never worn them and he doesn't know how to turn them off.'

Steph, the older and more experienced radiographer, thought she'd seen it all, but every now and again the people who appeared for an X-ray surprised her. She may become tired with long hours, but she loved her colleagues – well, most of them - and she was never bored.

'How did he get here?' she asked.

Rachel laughed again. 'Before he could decide what to do the doorbell rang and he opened the door to a motorcycle courier with a parcel for him. He told the courier what had happened and they decided not to wait for an ambulance. The patient doesn't drive.'

Steph laughed. 'So, he arrived at hospital on the back of a motorbike in just his boxer shorts? It's a wonder his appearance didn't cause accidents.'

'Not quite,' said Rachel. 'On the way here, they were pulled over by a police officer who told our patient to get off the bike and demanded to know the reason he was travelling, in the rain, almost naked on the back of a motorcycle and without a helmet. Both Mr. Stafford and the courier tried to explain, but the policeman thought it was a wind-up and refused to take them seriously. After all, how many times does a policeman come across someone who claims he swallowed his toothbrush? It was only when he was presented with the courier's credentials and had seen the packages in the pannier he half accepted the situation. He sent the courier on his way and brought the patient here. He's gone for a coffee but will be back soon to see if an X-ray proves Mr. Stafford's story. I think that if this had been a joke our patient would have been carted off to the nick pronto.'

'Let's back track. Why would he want to rub his tongue?' she asked in mystification. 'No, don't answer that. I don't want to know. It doesn't seem to have caused any damage so far, but the toothbrush can't progress through his stomach and intestines so the consultant will, I'm sure, decide to admit him.'

They had another look at the outline of the toothbrush on the image on the screen before Rachel went through to the X-ray waiting area and told the man he needed to wait for the consultant. Still wearing only boxer shorts and trainers, he looked a comical figure. Five other patients, all clutching X-ray request forms, were seated as far away as possible from the nearly naked man, although they were clearly enjoying the sole entertainment available in the stark waiting area.

The police officer appeared, so to prevent further titillation in the waiting room Steph asked the policeman to follow her around a corner out of earshot then informed the officer that the image confirmed the existence of a toothbrush.

'Can I see it?' asked the officer.

'No, you can't,' said Steph.

'Go on, let me have a quick gander. I can't leave unless I know this isn't a wind-up.'

'No, you can't see it and this isn't a wind-up. I can assure you the toothbrush is definitely in Mr. Stafford's stomach. Even patients aren't allowed to see their X-rays unless a consultant shows them,' she explained.

The policeman displayed a hangdog look. 'My sergeant will have my guts for garters if I admit I didn't see the X-ray myself,' he said.

Steph sighed theatrically. 'OK, but only if Mr. Stafford agrees.'

They returned to the waiting room and asked the patient's permission for the police officer to look at the X-ray. Mr. Stafford signed, 'OK then but be quick. I want to know what will to happen to me.'

Once the officer had left, no doubt with a story to tell his colleagues, Steph returned to her student.

'Ah Rachel, could you reassure Mr. Stafford and stress he's not to pop off anywhere, and he mustn't have anything to eat or drink.'

'Do you think I'm in danger of it damaging my stomach?' The patient looked understandably concerned. He was twenty-six, Rachel calculated, from the date of birth on the X-ray referral form. She faced the man knowing hospital policy dictated the radiographer could not offer any information about what she'd seen in the image. The radiographer's role was to take clear images, from various angles if required, and send the digital images to a consultant radiographer who would decide whether any action needed to be taken. Rachel knew that some small items could pass through the stomach and bowel but others, like a toothbrush, wouldn't make its way around. An operation would be essential but she couldn't tell the worried man, although anyone with half a brain should realise an operation was needed.

'I can't say. The consultant will answer your questions. He'll be here in about twenty minutes,' Rachel smiled reassuringly. 'I suggest you sit down and have a look through some magazines while you wait.'

'Thanks, but I think I'll go and have a coffee and come back in a few minutes,' he replied.

Rachel knew this was not a wise move as if an emergency operation was required it would be safer for the patient to have refrained from any food or drink. She couldn't tell him that, as he'd then realise he was going to need an operation, although anyone with more than a sprout for a brain would know the toothbrush wouldn't reappear of its own accord.

'Mr. Stafford, it's better you remain here just in case the consultant arrives soon. He won't like his time wasted while we wait for you to return,' said Rachel, realising that in her first year at university she was already getting into the psychology of patient management. 'Also, I suggest you put back on the gown you wore for the X-ray. You'll feel more comfortable if you have more of your body covered.'

The man did as he was told and the Rachel read out the next name on the list of patients to be X-rayed, 'Simon Easton.' A stocky middle-aged man stood up, but before Rachel could ask him to follow her, an elderly lady called out, 'Ay love, you couldn't let this young man go first, could you?' Rachel turned to see who she was referring to. It was a young man, probably still a teenager, wearing a dirty T-shirt and jeans with huge slashes at the knees.

The stocky man said, 'But it's my turn. He came last.'

'I know,' replied the old lady, 'but we can't keep sitting here with that smell. Let him go first, there's a love.' Noises of agreement came from the other four patients.

'OK,' shrugged the stocky man, sitting down.

Interesting, Rachel thought and asked the young man his name.

'Dale White.'

'Right Mr. White, follow me.'

The lanky youth stood up, and when Rachel showed him into the cubicle where he was to don the faded hospital gown, she could not miss the slashes at the seat of the jeans showing grubby underpants. Yuk! As he moved in front of her an acrid smell of unwashed body and stale and sweaty clothes attacked her nasal passages. Yuk and double yuk! Realisation dawned why the old lady wanted him to jump the queue.

In the imaging room she noticed that to add to his unattractiveness he had almost a dozen earrings in each ear, a spike sticking out below his bottom lip and tattoos on his hands, arms and neck. The job sheet said he needed an image of his arm. Rachel was glad it wasn't his head as the amount of metal may have caused a problem. She preferred boys who didn't look like scrap metal merchants.

She looked more closely at one of the tattoos on his lower arm. It said 'Carl' and was surrounded by what looked like a thin green snake with large red blotches. The patient saw her looking. 'Yeah, everyone asks me what it means,' he said. 'It's the name of an ex, except her name is Carol. The idiot left out the 'o'. I stupidly let someone practise on me while he was training. The stupid prat was so busy talking codswallop he didn't realise what he was doing. It's worse now she isn't my girlfriend any more. That's his fault too. I can't afford to have it removed. My life sucks.'

Noting the resignation in his voice Rachel decided not to ask why Carol left him, but the boy, sighing, continued, 'When she saw this tattoo she felt her friends would laugh at her, so she dumped me.'

Steph had approached and heard most of the boy's explanation, and couldn't resist asking, 'Could you not sue the tattooist? You should receive a good amount of money which could pay for the removal of the tattoo.'

The patient, who had clearly heard it all before, rolled his eyes and said, 'Actually, he's my brother. I can't sue him. My family would chuck me out, he didn't have insurance and he's absolutely stony broke. I suppose you've noticed the rose twined around my ex's name? It's supposed to be roses but everyone says it looks like a snake with red boils. He couldn't even get that right. The idiot.'

Steph stayed behind the screen and watched Rachel as she took two images of his arm. In the windowless room the young man's lack of personal hygiene was like a particularly nasty cloying scent. The suspected fracture wasn't there. That would be one piece of good news for the lad, she thought as she told him to return to see the doctor in A&E. As he shuffled towards the exit, he left behind a view of his buttocks, and the decidedly unpleasant body odour. She wondered whether he'd stopped bathing since his girlfriend left and was sure no young lady would be attracted to him in his current malodourous state.

While Rachel popped to the toilet, the next in was a rather large man in his forties who was hobbling. He handed his form to Steph. 'Hello Mr. Williams, could you go into the changing room, remove your trousers and put on the gown that is hanging on the hook please.' The patient did so and Steph called him through to the imaging room. She confirmed his name and date of birth, and quickly took an X-ray of his pelvis. When she was showing him out, he asked if he could buy a copy of the X-ray.

'We don't usually do that, sorry.'

'I'd really like a copy please, it's for my girlfriend.'

Steph had come across this type of request before, and explained that it wasn't hospital policy to provide copies of X-rays, unless it was in ultrasound for pregnancy scans.

'I really want a copy. I will pay £10,' the man replied.

Steph doubted that £10 would be sufficient. 'Why does your girlfriend want to see your X-ray?'

'It's her birthday soon, and it will be unique. I want to hang it in our bedroom window where the light will catch it.'

Weirder and weirder, thought Steph. While she was formulating a response, and ready to escort the man out into the corridor, he elaborated, 'I know I've got a huge you-know-what and want her to see how low it hangs. She will be reminded daily of what a good stud she has.'

For once, Steph was speechless. She had seen his penis on the image and it was certainly a little larger than the norm, however they came in an amazing range of sizes, and this patient's penis wasn't particularly eye-popping. 'As you are returning to A&E, why don't you ask the doctor if he can authorise you having a copy?' Mr. Williams seemed content with that, and hobbled off.

One to tell Stuart, she thought. Surely hanging an image of a dangling penis in the window of a bedroom was considered porn? Takes all sorts.

Steph was pleased with Rachel. As a first-year radiography student, she was inquisitive, asked sensible questions and should do well, but the girl was a little ingenuous in some respects. She sometimes took things literally. The previous week when Steph had asked her to run down to the records' office to collect a patient's file, the student had returned in two minutes, red-faced, sweating and puffing, and proudly presented the file to her senior. As Steph took it, she realised Rachel had literally run there and back, so had to remind her that running was not allowed, for obvious reasons such as slips, trips and falls.

Four months before, a doctor had rushed in response to an emergency call to a visitor on a ward who suffered a cardiac arrest, and had slipped, not on the proverbial banana skin, but on spilt coffee in the corridor. Steph was the radiographer on duty and took images of his left arm and leg, both of which were fractured. He insisted on seeing the images and swore softly when he saw the breaks. Later, the hapless doctor heard that he'd have been third in the race to the patient, as two colleagues had already reached him and successfully saved his life.

As usual, there were far more female radiography students than males. Having more men would be useful. Some bashful male patients preferred to be seen by someone of the same sex, and, in certain situations, having a strong male to help lift heavy patients was invaluable. There was a misconception that having male staff was advisable when dealing with drunken patients; in Steph's opinion, most male drunks responded better to a female. If a male member of staff were present, whether a radiographer, porter or doctor, the intoxicated male patient was more likely to become aggressive and take a swing at the other male. Females who had imbibed too much generally didn't respond well to either sex and also had the greatest vocabulary of four letter words.

During a lull in patients, Steph and Rachel were enjoying coffee and biscuits. Many radiographers brought in such 'goodies' to share with colleagues. Most of the female staff moaned about not being able to resist temptation and begged people not to be so generous. There was always someone on a diet and having such tempting and high calorie treats were welcomed but regretted later, on the scales. Male staff, on the other hand, were happy to dive in and vacuum up cakes, sweets, biscuits and pizzas, without any concerns for their figures. Sometimes fruit was brought in, and the women knew there was little competition and could guarantee there would be plenty left at break time.

'Rachel, what brought you to radiography?' Steph asked.

'My aunt is a radiographer down south and all my life she's been telling us funny stories about her colleagues and patients. It seemed an interesting and fulfilling job.'

'You weren't interested in becoming a radiotherapist?'

'I talked about it with my aunt but I know that only about one in nine people studying radiography become radiotherapists, so I wasn't sure if that would mean there were more opportunities as a radiotherapist, or fewer and when she told me what they did I wasn't sure I could handle the responsibility.' Rachel reached for her fifth chocolate digestive biscuit and dunked it into her coffee.

'I know what you mean,' said Steph, 'I'm happy taking images of patients, but I wouldn't want to have to administer chemicals to cancer patients for chemotherapy or do radiotherapy. The thought of a minor slip up on my part seriously affecting an already ill patient would worry me too much. It'd be unforgivable to give them too much or not enough radiation. And then there are the other parts of their job, like Barium meals and enemas etc.'

Rachel was nodding her head in agreement. 'On the other hand,' she said, 'we may only see the same patient once or twice and don't see them after they've been treated, but radiotherapy radiographers can see the same patient over and over, from the beginning when treatment is planned, then during the treatment, then possibly after at the post-treatment review stage.'

'Yes, they build up relationships with their patients. It must be awful if a patient doesn't respond to the treatment and dies.' Steph shuddered. 'I couldn't handle that.'

Student radiographers had to spend several months each year in placements in hospitals. They came from anywhere in the north of England, and even further afield. Some were from universities beyond reasonable travelling distance, so needed to bring all their belongings with them, often including bedding.

The waiting room bell sounded. Steph put down her almost empty coffee mug and went out to the waiting area, Rachel following, keen to learn as much as possible. A tall dark-haired man holding a newspaper was standing and looking at the rows of empty chairs. His brow was puckered and he looked confused.

Steph approached him, hand out. 'May I see your X-ray referral form?' His response was to look even more confused.

'I'm looking for my wife,' he said.

'Is she having an X-ray?' asked Steph.

'Yes, I thought she'd be here.' He waved the folded newspaper to indicate the empty seats, as if his wife might mysteriously appear, like the Tardis, thought Rachel.

'There aren't any patients at the moment,' Steph told him. 'What's her name?'

'Celia Fronge,' the man said. Steph hadn't X-rayed anyone of that name, and she knew Rachel hadn't either.

'She hasn't been here yet. Maybe she's taken a wrong turning and will arrive soon.'

'I suppose that's possible, but I let her out at the entrance, parked the car, then bought a newspaper and came up here. She should be here by now. She'll be annoyed if I turn up late. She's always moaning at me. At the moment I can't do anything right.'

'What's she being X-rayed for?' asked Steph. The man's next answer cleared up the problem.

'To see if we're having twins.'

Steph caught Rachel's eye and hoped she wasn't going to burst out laughing. 'I think you want ante-natal,' she said. 'It's down the corridor, through the double doors, then turn second left and first right. We do X-rays here, not ultrasound. My colleague will show you the way.'

Mr Fronge looked relieved that it was he in the wrong place, not his wife. Steph expected him to turn towards the door and follow Rachel, but the man said, 'While I'm here, can you X-ray my leg? It's been hurting for some time. I hurt it playing football.'

Rachel was taken aback by the request but Steph wasn't fazed at all.

'Have you seen your doctor about your leg?

'No, but as I'm here I might as well have an X-ray. It will save me going to my doctor then having to return here. Then I've a good excuse for turning up late.'

Steph ensured that she didn't see her assistant's face this time. She was sure she was trying not to grin. Rachel spent more time smiling and seeing the funny side than other people, being a naturally cheerful person. She knew if she caught her eye again they would both have to suppress laughter.

'I'm sorry Mr. Fronge, but you need to be referred by a doctor. I'm not allowed to undertake X-rays without a referral form from a doctor.'

'My name isn't Fronge.' He corrected her. 'We're married but she wouldn't take my name. She said she preferred her own. My name's Luke Dinkley-Sidebottom.' He pronounced it Siddy-boe-tham.

A definite small, badly suppressed, giggle exploded from Rachel. Steph jumped in quickly, hoping Mr Sidebottom hadn't heard. She was going to have to have serious words with the student, but really, she couldn't blame her. She was struggling against laughter herself, and could sympathise with the missing wife. She wouldn't have taken that name either.

'I'm sorry Mr. Dinkley-Sidebottom.' Another snort came from Rachel, who Steph thankfully saw, was backing into the imaging room, hopefully taking herself out of earshot. 'I'm not allowed to undertake any X-rays without a referral form.'

'I wouldn't tell,' the man said. 'You could take the X-ray now and I'll see a doctor next week and bring you the referral form.'

'I'm sorry, but we must have the referral form first. I suggest you see your GP soon as possible, or if your leg's really painful, go to Accident and Emergency downstairs. Now,' she said, steering the man towards the exit, 'your wife will be wondering where you are.' He clearly wasn't happy with her decision but allowed himself to be ushered out.

'Rachel, you can come out now!' she shouted. The girl appeared and started laughing again.

'If that was my name I'd have changed it! Does that happen much?' she asked.

'Do you mean patients getting lost or demanding X-rays without a referral form, or having silly names?' she asked.

'All three! No, wanting an X-ray on the spur of the moment.'

'Not often, but we do sometimes have people wanting X-rays of weird things, like the man last year who brought in his briefcase. His young son had managed to change the combination when playing with it and the man couldn't get it open.'

'Why did he bring it in? Surely he didn't think an X-ray would show him the combination?'

'Believe it or not, Rachel, he wanted to know if his mobile phone was in there. He couldn't find it and if it was in there he'd stop searching the house and car for it. He was worried that it was somewhere at home where his wife might find it and see the text messages to and from his girlfriend. It was on silent so he couldn't ring it.'

'What a plonker. Why didn't he just break the briefcase open?' Rachel asked.

'That's what I said. He looked amazed at the idea then asked me for a crowbar! Why on earth would I have a crowbar? It's not a regular tool when taking images. Anyway, I referred him to the porters, although he shouldn't have been in the hospital at all, but I bet the porters or security had a good laugh.'

Steph peered around the door to see if any more patients had arrived. There was a bell but most patients didn't notice it or the huge laminated sign above it. Others, particularly children, rang it so much you'd think they were entering a campanology competition. Still no genuine patients, she noted. For once, it was a quiet morning. The shift went much more quickly when the waiting room was full. Turning back to Rachel she said, 'I bet since you've been on lots of placements you've proven your aunt right. There are some pretty strange people in the NHS, and that's just the staff!'

Rachel laughed, 'I'd go so far as to say some of the staff are mad!'

'OK, you're right, I can't think of one member of staff who hasn't eventually been infected with the madness that is the NHS. We're pretty sure the superintendent is off her rocker. She has amazing mood swings, and can be quite vindictive.'

Steph looked at the clock on the wall. 'I'm going for a break now. If any patients come then have me paged as we're short-staffed as usual so there's no-one to supervise you. But if you can ask the patients to wait a bit I might have time to eat. I'll be back in half an hour, and then if it's still quiet, a bit later you can go for your break.'

Rachel nodded, then without being asked - which is what made her an excellent student Steph thought - she started cleaning the X-ray equipment, even though it hadn't been used for over an hour.

During her break Steph rang her husband, Stuart, who should be back from collecting the children from school. 'Hi, how's things?' she asked.

'OK, but Jake fell off running along the school wall. I've no idea why he was up there. He's grazed his knees and his trousers have taken a battering.'

'Darling, the reason he was on the wall is because he's a nine-year-old boy. I'm sure you did that sort of thing when you were younger?'

'I never did anything of the sort!' Steph could hear the grin in his voice.

'Knowing your mum, she probably made you walk along the top of walls as soon as you were toddling. Anything else I need to know?'

'Well, Gemma wants to spend her pocket money on a new Barbie doll. I've told her to wait until you come home to discuss it.'

'Thanks very much!' his wife said. 'So, I'm the baddie who tells her that she has enough of the silly things and that she can't have yet another one!'

'But you're better at discipline than me,' Stuart protested. 'And she is only seven.'

'You just want to be Darling Daddy all the time, leaving me to be Moaning Mummy to our children,' she laughed. 'Anyway, I'll be home about six tonight. Anything you want me to pick up on the way home? Any essentials?'

'We're low on wine. Oh, and any chance of some nut chocolate?'

Steph laughed. 'I said "essentials,". OK, I'll bring some white wine and your chocolate. The amount of wine we quaff I think we should start making it ourselves. That would also give us something to do together. Anyway, see you later.'

A few minutes later, Rachel looked appreciative of the doughnuts and coffee Steph brought back for her. 'Here, I know what it's like being a student and being hungry most of the time. I can remember that far back. You never seem to have enough money to eat. Have this now then go for a proper break in half an hour. Take an hour. Who's outside?'

'Thanks Steph, you're fantastic,' Rachel said with a mouthful of doughnut. She chewed a couple of times then swallowed. 'You're in time for a knee. Chap been sent by A&E. I need a knee X-ray so that'll be another one off my list.'

Student radiographers studying for the BSc in Diagnostic Imaging had a record book each year on placement and had to, under supervision, undertake a certain number of X-rays of various parts of the body. When the radiography department was busy and more students were on duty, they would barter or argue to do certain X-rays so that they could be signed off as competent in their books by their mentors.

'If I can have this head you can have that foot.'

'But I need another two heads. You only need one.'

'Yes, but you've got all your chests.'

Or it might be, 'You can have this hand.'

'I don't want it; I've got all my hands.'

'So have I. I don't want it either.'

At this stage a qualified radiographer would tell them not to be silly. That they weren't experts just because they'd done some hand X-rays and they needed to carry on doing more.

'I've got all my tibias but I need two more fibulas,' was bound to confuse any waiting patients who could overhear the students bartering.

When Rachel had returned from her break, and there being a lull in patients, Steph took her into the tiny and cramped staff room with paint peeling on the walls and helped her revise her bones using Boney, the life-size male skeleton. The very first skeletons for medical use were made from real bones, some with rotting flesh still attached, often having been robbed from graves, Burke and Hare style. Nowadays they were made from plastic and arrived in a box from Ebay.

He lived in the corner of the radiographers' staff room, leering at everyone. Some bright spark had dressed him in women's clothes. His main purpose was to enable radiography students to learn their bones, but more often than not he hung on his stand in the corner, observing, through eyeless sockets, the goings-on in the staff room. Today he sported a pink bustier and a pair of long dangly ear rings and a plastic bead necklace around his neck. Steph wondered what he'd be wearing next week. Rachel had named only three bones when they heard the bell in the waiting area.

Steph said, 'I'll go, you carry on with all the bones in the foot.'

A small human being sat on one of the chairs. Steph could see blue cotton trousers and white trainers but the rest of the body was obscured by a huge pot plant the patient held on their lap. This time Steph was surprised. Of all the strange things patients brought with them to the department, a potted plant was a first for Steph. Approaching the patient from the side, she realised it was a woman, well into her sixties, she reasoned.

The woman said, 'Oh hello, I've come for a chest X-ray,' and handed over the form.

'Mrs. Pettigrew,' said Steph, 'would you like to go through to the changing room. There's a hospital gown that has an opening at the back. If you could take off all the clothes above your waist and leave them in the changing cubicle.'

The patient stood up and started walking in the direction Steph had pointed. 'Um,' said Steph, 'could you leave the plant here please?' The changing cubicles were small and the largest which was the one for wheelchair users, needed the curtain pole replacing, the curtain having been caught in the wheel of a wheelchair four weeks before. Maintenance requests usually fell on deaf ears, and Steph felt it could be another three months before the pole was replaced. The NHS was always short of resources, and even a five-minute job of drilling new holes for a pole was behind a long queue of items needing attention.

'Oh no, I can't leave it here,' said Mrs. Pettigrew, 'it's for my mother's birthday next week and it may be stolen if I don't keep an eye on it.'

'OK then.' Steph decided to humour the woman. 'If you leave it in the cubicle it will be safe. There aren't any other patients at the moment.'

'Oh no,' said the woman again. 'I said, someone may come and steal it while I'm having my X-ray taken. I'll take it into the X-ray room.'

Steph heard a familiar snort from the direction of the staff room. Unfortunately, so did the pot plant-loving patient.

'Hear that? There's someone around the corner waiting to grab my mother's plant!'

'Rachel, can you come out and look after Mrs. Pettigrew's mother's plant please?' Steph called. The girl appeared with a grin on her face.

'Certainly, I'd love to.'

'There, 'said Steph, 'this is one of my colleagues and I'm sure she'll fight off any plant thieves while I take your X-ray.' The woman looked a little dubiously at the young girl, noting the thin body encased in the baggy purple over-washed uniform. The name of Rachel's university on the pocket didn't seem to inspire confidence. She clearly wasn't impressed with the recommended plant security guard.

'OK then, but take good care of it. My mother loves camellias and this is a special one for her eighty-fifth birthday.' She handed the huge plant to Rachel who rocked on her heels at the weight. Minutes later, when Mrs. Pettigrew's mother's birthday present had been delivered back into the arms of the patient who clumsily waddled away with her burden, Rachel asked, 'Why did she have to bring that thing in here? Couldn't she have left it in the car?'

'She doesn't own a car and came on the bus. But,' Steph said, hands upwards to deflect the student's next question, 'I think she's a bit loose in the head, as she took two buses to reach here, and bought the plant at a shop near the bus stop while she waited for the second bus.'

'So,' Rachel asked, 'why didn't she buy the plant on the way home? It's only 2.30 now and I'd think the shop would still be open. So, she bought the plant, struggled onto her bus, brought it all the way from the bus station, is now returning to the bus station, will then change buses next to the shop and take the plant home? I think she definitely has a screw loose.'

Steph shrugged. 'She's the sort of patient that makes our lives interesting.'

'You can say that again,' Rachel said. 'I told you the patients are fruit-cakes.'

Chapter 2 – Sisters

She should really be in bed following a night shift at the Royal Infirmary. She enjoyed being a radiographer, but disliked the unsocial hours. Drinking the fourth coffee of the morning and eating a rationed low-fat cake bar, Steph set aside last night's edition of the evening paper. It was all muggings by people in clown masks, lead thefts from church roofs, M.P. scandals, ISIS attacks and the state of the economy since the Brexit vote.

What sort of world had she and Stuart brought their two young children into? And they wouldn't be able to gain their old age state pension until they were sixty-eight. She presumed the government was hoping that most of the population would have died by then. She, herself, was now going to have to wait until she was sixty-seven years before she received her state pension.

Last night had been one of the most interesting that she'd experienced in the department. A & E had sent up a morbidly obese man for an abdominal X-ray. Steph had been on her own just after midnight and her heart sank when she saw her patient. Two cheery porters wheeled the massive creature in on one of the new hospital beds. Some patients were too heavy for the standard issue beds and bariatric beds were being purchased each year when budgets allowed. This patient was short, wide and enormous.

'Here's your next one luv,' said Stan, winking at her. 'I think you may need some help,' he whispered, and quickly dashed off with Fred, the other porter. Clearly, they aren't going to be the ones offering help, damn it! thought Steph.

'HEY!! Stan, Fred, come back, I need a hand,' she shouted at their retreating backs. They knew perfectly well that the hospital's policy forbade lone handling when lifting was required. The two sniggering porters returned.

'We know you need more than one hand. We were only fooling luv,' said Fred, grabbing the bed again to steer it into the X-ray room.

'I bet,' muttered Steph under her breath. Normally for someone as large as this patient, an image would be taken while the patient was in bed on the ward. But all three mobile X-ray machines were out of order. Like the curtain pole, repeated requests for the mobiles to be repaired had fallen on deaf ears. Steph didn't know the ins and outs of maintenance contracts on medical equipment, but the current situation meant some seriously ill patients on wards were being carted down day and night for images to be taken, when each X-ray would normally take a few minutes using a mobile machine. Therefore, in this case she and the cheery porters spent half an hour of grappling with mountains of flesh. Mr. Glash, the patient, was in his seventies, almost totally bald on his head but blessed with a monstrously hairy back, chest and ears.

'How heavy is he,' mused Steph, looking on his hospital records........ 'forty-one stone! Thank goodness we have a table that will take his weight.

'Lord, that's some lard,' said Fred, too loudly Steph thought.

'Shush!' remonstrated Steph, 'he'll hear you!' The two cheeky porters knew they were able to tease her with complete freedom.

'He's totally deaf and has forgotten his hearing aids.'

'Oh great, so we have to do this by sign language,' she fretted.

'Maybe his hearing aids are in those trees in his ears but he still can't hear.'

'Stan!' pleaded Steph, 'just give me a hand will you.' That was easier said than done. The hirsute, obese man seemed oblivious to attempts to get him onto the X-ray table. He couldn't raise himself up to get off the bed and transfer to the X-ray table.

'The table won't go down any lower,' said Steph.

'I'll get the bed at the same level as the table,' said Fred, 'let's try the Patslide'. Despite three of them being there, it took a tremendous effort to get the patient transfer board underneath Mr. Glash. All three then tried to persuade Mr Glash to help transfer to the table.

'Whoa, the bed's moving. The wheel won't lock. Crappy NHS equipment,' said Steph. It was like some Carry-on movie. Fred attempting to keep the bed right next to the table, so the patient didn't fall through a chasm. Steph kept trying to push him onto the table and Stan attempted to pull him towards him.

'I hope to god if Mr Blobby starts rolling that we can stop him before he annihilates Stan,' chortled his side-kick.

Finally, with much huffing and puffing from the three staff, the patient was lying on the table.

Steph asked the two porters, 'Could you wait outside in case I need more help please?'

'OK luv, will do,'

'And no nipping off for a smoke,' she shouted after them.

Steph had another look at the X-ray request. An abdominal X-ray was required. Raising the table, she inserted the cartridge for the first exposure.

'Mr. Glash,' leaning over him she stared into his eyes in the hope he could lip read, 'I need to take an X-ray of your tummy.' The next ten minutes were spent pushing the massive stomach to one side, but each time the mass of blubber was out of the way of the area and ready to be X-rayed, when she went behind the screen to press the button, she realised that the fat, having a mind of its own, had flowed back.

'Mr. Glash, I'm going to put some tape on you to help take the X-ray.' Mr. Glash responded with a grunt. He was obviously hot in the small, stuffy room, and sweat was running down his face and torso. The tape to try to contain his huge folds of stomach kept unpeeling. Steph dried his skin and finally managed to take a third image, in the hope that the last would be useful. Health and safety policies decreed a maximum number of exposures for each part of the body.

Shortly after 4.00 a.m. she fell into bed in one of the on-call rooms reserved for radiographers. There should have been someone else on shift with her but a horrid virus had swept through the hospital staff and no-one was able to assist. If more patients needed X-raying in the night she'd be paged. She desperately hoped she wouldn't be needed. She was bone tired. When on call she always found it difficult to sleep when she expected to be awoken any moment.

The alarm sounding at 8.30 was a shock. Having tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress in the damp room until around 5.40 she felt exhausted. Her shift was due to end at 9 pm, so she had a quick wash and decided to delay a much-needed coffee until she reached home. No-one was waiting for an X-ray so she left bang on nine when her relief radiographers arrived. The free parking space outside Sainsbury's cheered her up slightly, enabling her to rush in, grab a few items and some fresh granary bread. Cut thick, toasted, with whisky marmalade and a latte, it would make an easy and filling breakfast. Stretching, Steph decided to enjoy her day off, and maybe see if she could get a hair appointment. A short nap later would be welcoming. She wondered what her flighty sister Katrina, was getting up to right now.

Of average height and a brunette, Steph had always, during her life, felt that she was ignored; one of those people that even when at the front of a queue the person behind would be served first. She'd never had 'presence' unlike her sister, a tall, stunning piece of class. When they had been out on the town together, in their late teens, men's heads would turn to gawp at her sister, ignoring the shorter but no less pretty elder girl.

When Stephanie had managed to meet a male who was interested in her and who had not yet met her much more exciting sister, she'd try to avoid him seeing her sibling. Very rarely did the new man in her life, on meeting Katrina for the first time, not react the same as all the others - eyes popping, jaw dropping and possibly drooling whilst slowly looking this vision of loveliness up and down and up again.

Stephanie had come to realise that there was simply no competition. To be fair Katrina hadn't encouraged this basic animal reaction in her sister's boyfriends. It just happened.

Also, Katrina was rarely aware of the effect she had on men, cruising through each day as if there was no tomorrow. Unlike some storylines she'd read in novels, Stephanie had to admit that Katrina didn't go all out to pinch her boyfriends. Stephanie's suitors, until then still ardent, had simply forgotten her existence and started hanging around Katrina, like baby lambs around their mothers. Whether their goddess deigned to go out with them or not, those lovelorn-lambs rarely returned to Stephanie.

The first few times when Stephanie was in her late teens and had been spurned in favour of her younger sister, their parents had been alarmed at the noisy weeping rows.

'Just the time of the month,' Dad would say.

'Just silly teenagers.' Mum would reply.

Katrina had been bewildered. 'I thought you didn't want him anymore! You can have him back because his breath smells.' Or, 'He said you'd split up but I don't like his annoying habit of adjusting himself through his trousers when he's standing up. He even does it when we're queuing outside the cinema! I don't want him. Have him if you do!'

Even if the rejected suitor wished to reinstate his relationship with Stephanie she didn't want him. Just as Katrina hadn't wanted to wear her sister's cast off clothes, and been very glad when she overtook her in height so the concept was defunct, Stephanie didn't want her sister's rejects.

Things had eased when the younger sister moved in with someone who hadn't yet demonstrated those irritating little habits that meant he was 'defective'. With that gorgeous distraction elsewhere, upsetting other women by her presence at social events, Stephanie was at last able to keep a male to herself. When she'd finally married Stuart she thought that her future was secure.

Her mother, though, tried to put a spanner in the works. 'Robert, I've told Stephanie that the wedding is off. It is an unsuitable match but she just does not listen. You must forbid her from going through with this. I'll be scorned by my friends and we'll be a laughing stock in the neighbourhood. I absolutely forbid that,......that,..... creature from sullying my daughter and dragging her down. Think of their children, having an illegitimate father! They'll be teased at school!' Cecily continued in this vein for several more minutes.

Robert knew from long experience that it was best to let her rant on without interruption. The tirade finally slowed down enough for him to get a few words in.

'Firstly, who's going to tell them he's illegitimate? I'm not, you won't and you can be sure that neither our daughter or Stuart will broadcast it. It just doesn't matter. Nowadays lots of couples don't get married \- it's almost the norm. Secondly, he's a good lad and has a profession, more than you can say of that layabout that Katrina was living with. Stuart will keep our daughter in a reasonably comfortable lifestyle. He even has his own house he designed at twenty-five.'

Cecily burst out again, 'It will leak out somehow and I won't be able to hold my head up in public, I'll be too embarrassed. I'm surprised at you Robert. I thought you had a higher moral code than this. You are the man of the household and we're paying for the wedding. His mother, whoever and wherever she may be hasn't offered to pay a bean. Lord only knows where the father is. How do we know he wasn't a criminal or insane or something? Stuart might have inherited really bad genes. And her mother! Who calls herself "Skye"? I can't believe it's her real name. And if it is then her mother is obviously crackers too! I bet this Skye doesn't know who her own father is either!' Her red face and indignation irritated Robert. Why had he married her? He still couldn't remember.

'You will go tonight and tell Stephanie it's definitely off. Perhaps we can send her to my cousin in Canada. She lives in Toronto and runs a laundry. I'll tell her she must give Stephanie a job.'

'Cecily! It's the 1990s. No-one sends their nineteen-year-old daughter abroad because she wishes to marry a man against her mother's wishes!' protested Robert. Before an answer could be given he'd shot out of the room and sought refuge in the public library until it closed, then moved onto the pub.

His departure took his wife by surprise. She was unused to her mild-mannered husband sticking up for himself or daring to challenge her. By the time he returned that evening, at pub kicking out time, neither of them referred to the incident again.

Over the next few months mother and elder daughter had some loud arguments, Robert retreating each time when he was home. Neither adversary was shifting from her point of view, so it was stalemate.

Cecily thought she held the trump card when she said, 'If this wedding goes ahead we will refuse to attend and pay for it.'

'Fine by me because I don't want you there and we'll pay for it and the honeymoon somehow!' yelled Stephanie. Turning on her high heels she stumbled out of the room, wrenching her ankle in the process. In her room she packed as much as she could and left the house while her parents were in the garden. Refuse to pay for the wedding? What did she mean? Her mother hadn't worked since Steph was born. It was Robert who earned all the money, for Cecily to spend trying to keep up with, or better still, overtake the neighbours.

Thinking she was sulking, Cecily was only alarmed when Stephanie hadn't come down to Sunday lunch the next day. A quick trawl of her room indicated her daughter's departure.

'Hussy! She's moved in with that man!' accused Cecily. 'How will I be able to go out in public when the news gets out?' she bemoaned. Robert took himself off to his allotment.

In fact, her mother was wrong; Stephanie had originally thought of turning to Stuart but decided to stay with an old school friend instead. She'd marry Stuart, and relished the upset it would cause.

Six weeks after Stephanie had left home, Cecily was taken aback when a friend at church said, 'Your Stephanie did look lovely in her beautiful wedding gown in the Tribune. Her new husband photographs well too.' With interest the informant, seeing Vera's confusion continued, 'I must have been mistaken because I thought Stephanie and Stuart weren't getting married until November.' Her speculative gaze didn't falter.

Managing to compose herself Cecily replied, 'They're young and couldn't wait, you know what the young are like'. Looking like someone who had examined all the clues and come up with the right deduction, the other woman threw a knowing smile at Vera and bade her farewell.

'Robert! Doris Jackson said Stephanie got married recently. That old witch inferred the date had been brought forward because Stephanie is pregnant! How DARE she and how could Stephanie do this to her own mother!'

Trying to avoid his wife's gaze Robert made some placatory remarks and in his typical fashion escaped to the garden. To this day Cecily didn't know that he'd attended and paid for the re-arranged wedding and given his daughter away to a man he considered right for his unhappy daughter. His only concern was that she may have married to escape her domineering mother. He hoped time would prove his worries to be unfounded.

Now, looking forward to a lovely day to herself, or at least until it was time for her to collect the children from school, Steph decided to send off an email and hope that all was well with her sister. You never knew with Katrina. She seemed to go from one disaster to another.

As she entered the hall, Steph could see that Marmaduke, their friendly but potty ginger Tom cat, had knocked over his scratching post and removed one of the big blue tassels from the curtains. The cat had boundless energy and kept them in stitches with his antics. By the time she'd reached the kitchen and put the bread on the black marble work surface, the cat was at her feet, yowling. He was either welcoming her or demanding food. He absolutely loved cuddles, so she obliged, putting him over her shoulder and tickling him behind his ears, thinking of her sister again. She'd never regretted the day she married Stuart. She wished that both her sister and father could find someone who would love them.

Chapter 3 – Grandma's rats

'Mummy, G G V is on the phone,' Jake called. 'She wants us to go and see her, can we Mum?' Stephanie had heard the phone ring a few minutes before and realised that her nine-year-old son must be having a conversation with his great grandmother. He sounded excited; an unusual response as he generally found phone conversations with his grandmother, and the occasional visits, boring in the extreme, as did the whole family. This was caused, in the main, by Great Gran Vera's, aka GGV, outdated constant demand that, 'Children should be seen and not heard.'

In her late eighties, Vera, who had never been over fond of children including her own daughter, now regarded her great grandchildren as a necessary evil. If she wanted help in her bungalow then the most likely time her granddaughter's husband would be available was weekends, thus those noisy children would have to come too. Widowed long ago, she used her few visitors shamelessly with the result that the non-family visitors rarely returned.

'Could you just run me up to get my pension?' was a favourite. No-one objected to such a reasonable request from such a helpless old lady but would find en-route for home that the pension needed spending straight away at any number of the small rural shops dotted around the small villages on the way home. Commanding her driver to stop right outside, regardless of parking restrictions, she then expected the hapless Samaritan to trail around after her with a wire basket. On one occasion, she had demanded that her driver take her to no fewer than five corner and hardware shops in her quest for blue bags. A slightly younger friend and husband were due to tea the next day and Vera wanted to impress them with a starched, pure white tablecloth.

'Only a blue bag will do,' she informed the bemused young girl in the hardware shop.

'Surely your mother uthes blue bagth?' Vera recoiled in disgust at the proffered blue swing bin liners. 'Come on, leth find a proper hardware shop with thtaff who underthtand Englith,' she threw over her shoulder to her hapless helper. The whole incident wasn't helped by Vera forgetting to put in her top teeth. The resultant lisping from what looked like an overweight witch had further frightened the young assistant.

Relatives fared worse. 'Blood is thicker than water,' was her frequent and unoriginal saying. Robert had, over the years, heard the complete repertoire of his grand-mother-in-law's adages and was heartily sick of them. One Christmas he'd given her a copy of, 'Old country sayings and adages.' She'd sniffed and apart from a stiff, 'Thank you' had set the present aside, never mentioning it again.

Robert thought his clumsy attempts at increasing her vocabulary had failed. However, during the Easter duty visit he was satisfied that his plan was working as despite the book not being in evidence, some new, unfamiliar sayings were creeping into conversations. To help relieve the tedium, he'd await the next gem and calculate how many times he had heard it already.

While Vera openly showed her dislike for Robert, she favoured Stuart, getting her visitors to go out and bring back his favourite foods and demanding that Stephanie wait on him hand and foot when they visited. His illegitimacy didn't bother her, probably because her indifference upset her daughter.

Seeing his wife's offspring and children regarded as slaves embarrassed Stuart. Worse was to come. On one of the rare occasions when Robert and Stuart's visits coincided, both men had been annoyed at the other's treatment by Vera. Both dreaded going as Robert was expected to undertake D I Y while Stuart wasn't allowed to do anything at all except listen to Vera's ramblings while Stephanie was tasked with the cleaning and gardening. Attempts by Stuart to help his wife were met with, 'Oh no Stuart dear, come and sit with me and talk, I never have any visitors and I'm so lonely. Stephanie likes to do some little tasks for me, that is what women do you know.'

Stephanie, hearing this, gritted her teeth and fumed. Stuart, like his father-in-law, endeavoured to avoid visiting the indomitable Vera whenever possible. Stephanie quailed now when she heard Jake's news. 'Oh no, what does she want now? No doubt her flower-beds need weeding or one of those horrible dogs has worms and needs to go to the vet.' Shudinkims and Pandora were archetypal lapdogs. They were horrid Yorkshire terriers that had to be incarcerated in another room when the family arrived. Jake still had the scars on his arm from an incident with one of them when he was five years old. He was still wary and avoided them when possible. They gravitated towards the children, yapping and jumping up, scratching and nipping any available bare flesh.

Stephanie dutifully relieved her son of the phone and make arrangements to visit.

'I can't afford the time, the Hallwoods need me on a site visit,' Stuart pleaded desperately later, not caring it was a lie, but he'd rather see the irritating Hallwoods than Steph's gran.

Seeing through the fabrication Stephanie replied, 'Hard luck, I need you there for moral support and to distract her while I go about my "womanly duties",' and there the matter rested.

The day was dismal for two reasons and only one was associated with the grey dank weather. The regular visits to Stuart's grandmother depressed everyone, they usually looked miserable even on a sunny day as they approached the bungalow.

Vera lived in a two-bedroom bungalow in a cul-de-sac containing similar semi-detached bungalows and houses. White paint work was a misnomer; most of the dwellings in the road had window frames that were peeling, with wet rotting bare wood showing. Few had double glazing or UPVC windows. The architect in the family could finally see the advantages of UPVC double-glazed windows for property owned by OAPs who don't notice their houses were crumbling around them.

Usually, when they approached the front door, all four members of the family experienced sinking hearts. This time Jake had a bounce in his step and was ahead of the others down the path to the sixties glass fronted door, behind which the two pop-eyed yapping terriers could be seen.

During the car journey Jake kept saying, 'GGV has some new pets,' but wouldn't say what they were.

'Cats or more dogs knowing Vera,' predicted Stuart. 'There'll be hairs everywhere, wherever we sit down. And the garden will be full of dog faeces.'

'At least you get to sit down,' snapped Stephanie. Waiting for GGV to answer the door, Gemma hung onto her father's arm in fright, imagining dragons, while Jack attempted nonchalance by kicking some slug damaged marigolds in the border. Forced pleasantries over, Stephanie was despatched to the kitchen to make some tea.

'There are some lovely cream éclairs that Stuart likes, don't forget to bring those in with you,' shouted Vera. Stuart had once stated that he liked cream éclairs and on most occasions Vera persuaded a neighbour to buy some. Stuart was now heartily sick of éclairs, due to both the number he'd consumed at Vera's over the years and following the occasion when the cream had been off, resulting in him spending a couple of days in hospital with food poisoning. He later found out that she'd bought them the morning before and forgotten to put them in the fridge. They remained on the kitchen window sill in the August sun until Stuart ate them the next afternoon. He thought they tasted odd but put it down to a heavy head cold. As only two éclairs were purchased and no-one else was allowed to eat them, he was the only casualty.

Hygiene was not one of Vera's strong points. Newspapers and junk mail was stacked up on available surfaces and in piles on the floor. Old cereal cartons, ginger beer bottles and egg boxes lay about. The food cupboards and fridge contained out of date and smelly food. Even the children knew to look at the 'best before' date of everything before they put it in their mouths. The oldest item had been a tin of peaches dated best before May 1993, being then fourteen years overdue.

'I read that tinned food can keep for fifty years,' was Vera's response. 'They only put these dates on so people will throw them away and buy more'. No-one ever dared argue with Vera so the secretive examination of dates continued. The kitchen was a breeding ground for germs, only seeing bleach and disinfectant when Stephanie or Cecily, Stephanie's mother and Vera's daughter, visited. Forks in particular needed to be scrubbed fresh out of the drawer, to remove disgusting remnants of food, often egg, from between the tines. Steph now brought from home mugs and tea spoons for her and Stuart, and glass tumblers and fruit juice for the children. The most interesting object had been discovered by Jake when he was four, and was of green and grey mould, a fascinating hairy mound, next to Vera's bed on the floor. He'd been sent in to find Pandora's squeaky toy. The dogs slept in Vera's bed at night.

The strange discovery intrigued him. Carrying it into the parlour he held it out on a grubby hand towards his father and grandmother.

'Look what I found. It was on the floor in the bedroom. Is it a little animal? It doesn't bite, I think it's asleep.'

A look of horror passed over Stuart's face and he declined to take it from his son. 'Um, it looks a bit like something may have gone mouldy. Um, Vera, do you know what it might be?'

'Oh, yes, it must be that piece of Stilton I had for my supper in bed. I couldn't eat it all so thought one of my little darlings might like it. I put it on the floor and must have forgotten about it.'

'Um, Vera, when do you think that was?' queried Stuart.

'Oh, let me think, Stuart dear, oh yes, it was the night after I'd gone with Molly to see The King and I at the Community Hall. It wasn't a bad show really considering they're only amateurs, not real actors you know. I think they didn't reduce the price enough for senior citizens. I had to pay £4.50! For an amateur performance! Joan Jenkins's son had a minor part, you know. She kept boasting about how he was 'on the stage' and that he was hoping for his Iniquity card. On and on she kept going on, every time I met her at the library. Then when I saw the play he was only on stage twice for a few minutes! Silly woman.'

'When was the play, Vera?' Stuart tried again, holding his impatience with the old bat.

Vera stared into the distance, her concentration obvious. 'It was the week Bill's budgie died. Awful that was. The cat next door got it. He was ever so upset. His son bought him another one but Bill says it isn't the same.'

Stuart gave up and later found from Stephanie that it was probably five months before. It was that that prompted Stuart to arrange for a home help to vacuum once a week. Vera had resisted the suggestion from Stephanie but if Stuart thought it was a good idea then she'd allow it.

'But she's not to mess about with my valuables. And she's got to keep the house as clean as I do. I've got standards you know.' Stuart and Steph had exchanged glances at that. They hoped the cleaner had higher standards than Vera. But then it would take something to have lower standards.

After several months the house didn't actually look much better, the piles of paper rarely lessened but admittedly they didn't increase.

'Home helps aren't supposed to undertake heavy duties,' the woman at the other end of the phone informed Stuart when he contacted the domiciliary care company to enquire what a home help's duties actually were.

'But the house doesn't appear to be getting any cleaner or tidier,' Stuart responded. 'We visit roughly every two to three weeks and in the five months the home help has been going we have seen little improvement.'

'I'm sorry to tell you Mr Kerris, but Mrs. Dainty is not the easiest of our clients. She won't allow polish to be used and the report here says that even light dusting without polish is difficult as there are no surfaces clear. The home help, Mrs. Dawkins, did suggest that the newspapers were put out to be recycled but your Grandmother wouldn't hear of it. She said that it was useful to have some newspapers just in case she needed them. Also, there is nothing for Mrs. Dawkins to clean the kitchen floor with. It's black with grease in places but there's no mop. They don't get down on their hands and knees nowadays you know. Our home helps expect to have mops etc. Also, Mrs. Dawkins is the fourth home help. All the others left after only a few weeks, mainly because of the dogs. She's the only one who isn't frightened of them.'

Stuart had listened to this catalogue of excuses long enough. 'I still think that there is work this woman could be doing and isn't. Can't you send someone else?'

'There IS no-one else Mr Kerris. Word has got around and no-one else will take on the job. I agree that perhaps Mrs Dawkins isn't the most particular of cleaners but she does go every week, despite Mrs. Dainty's constant complaints. We deal with a lot of difficult clients Mr. Kerris and Mrs Dainty is one of the more, shall I say, less co-operative ones?' Triumphant, knowing she'd won, the domiciliary care manager gave a curt 'Goodbye' and rang off.

Stuart decided that at least while the wonderful Mrs Dawkins was visiting it gave Vera someone to moan at and maybe, just maybe, the house wouldn't get any worse.

This time it did look a little better. The piles of paper were still in evidence but the cereal boxes and egg cartons had reduced. Bracing himself for another long rambling history he settled down on the hairy, sagging and tea-stained settee opposite Vera while Stephanie washed up crockery and cutlery in very hot water before they could be used for afternoon tea. Conscious of a toxic odour attacking his olfactory nerve, and suspecting it was caused by Vera's new pets, he said, 'Jake tells me that you've some new pets.........' before being interrupted by a shout from Gemma who was next door in the bathroom.

'Daddy, I can't go to the toilet, can you come and help.' Thinking this was a strange request from his toilet-trained seven-year-old he left Vera to go to the bathroom. 'Daddy, there's a brick on the toilet and I can't lift it off,' she said, jumping up and down in a desperate effort not to wet the floor. Quickly Stuart grabbed the brick from the lid of the toilet but in his haste dropped it on his foot, scraping his shin on its way down. The loud yell and profanities brought Stephanie from the kitchen and Vera from the parlour. The sight of Stuart jumping up and down on one foot and trying not to continue swearing confused Stephanie. Vera just looked upset and said, 'Oh dear Stuart, I should have told you about the brick'.

Through gritted teeth he asked, 'Vera, what was that brick doing on the toilet lid?'

'The rats dear, didn't Jake tell you? I've got rats'. This explained Jake's unusual enthusiasm for a visit to his great grandmother but not the existence of the brick. Jake, who had been sent out to play on arrival, and had started looking for a cage full of rats, appeared in the hall, trying to see what all the fuss was about. He saw his father limping out of the bathroom, in obvious pain. In the typical manner of children, he asked, 'What's happened to dad and can I play with your rats great grandma?'

In the comparative calm of the parlour, over a cup of tea and a rejected éclair, (Stuart was in no mood to placate Vera) the whole story came out.

'I saw a nature programme last week on the television and it said that there are more rats in this country than there are people and that we're never more than six feet from a rat at any time.'

'So where does the brick come into it?' enquired Stephanie. Vera answered Stephanie's question but aimed the answer at Stuart, as usual.

'They come up the toilet and run around the house. It's a nasty thought and I don't want to be bitten.... there,' she dropped her voice at the last word. 'So, Stuart dear, I had Mr. Giles next door put the brick on the lid so they can't push it up and run around the house and attack me while I sleep.'

'Have you actually seen any rats in the house?' enquired a cynical Stuart, foot throbbing.

'Well, no dear but they say that in France and Hong Kong they're everywhere and even climb up the pipes of toilets in blocks of flats. People in Paris have gone into their bathrooms and seen rats jumping back down the toilets! Isn't it awful, but then they're foreigners and we've no idea if they keep everything nice and clean like us English do, do we?'

Stephanie felt amazement that her grubby looking grandmother in her grubby house could feel any sort of disdain for the cleanliness or otherwise of foreigners. She also now realised what that suspicious bucket with a newspaper over it contained in the kitchen. Apparently, Vera no longer used the to let for its real purpose and had been using a bucket, in the kitchen of all places!

She had to ask: 'Vera, have you been using the bucket in the kitchen instead of the toilet?'

'Oh yes,' Vera told Stuart, I'm afraid I'm far too frightened to use the toilet. I could die of a rat bite you know.'

'Who empties it?'

'The home help does when she comes, but she doesn't like doing it, I think she's afraid of the rats too,' confided Vera.

Stuart's appreciation for the previously maligned Mrs Dawkins started to rise from rock bottom; he could well imagine that she didn't relish emptying a full bucket of acrid emissions. Still aware of his throbbing foot he said, 'So what happens when she isn't here and you need to empty it?'

'Oh, I throw it on the flower beds at the back. I'm not lifting the lid of the toilet, although Mrs Dawkins does.'

On the way home, having failed to persuade Vera that it was highly unlikely that rats would come up through the toilet, Stuart said, 'I think the time has come when Vera goes into a home.' Stephanie agreed but felt that it was something Cecily should deal with. She was, after all, Vera's daughter. In the meantime, they would contact the pest control people, 'Because, even 'though I think rats are not likely, mice probably are,' Stuart said. In fact, they both felt rats were highly likely, but didn't want to worry the children, although Jake had been disappointed at the dearth of rats. Stephanie was driving, his foot still causing her husband agony.

After a sleepless night with Paracetamol not helping with the pain, Stephanie drove her husband to the hospital, dropping off the two children at school on the way.

'An unusual break Mr Kerris,' the doctor in Accident and Emergency said, 'you've broken four toes.' Stuart valiantly tried not to wince as the doctor wiggled the offending digits.

'Will they have to be strapped Doctor?' he queried

'Oh no, we don't bother with that sort of thing nowadays, you just need to take it easy for a few weeks, have a rest and definitely no playing football with bricks,' the doctor said cheerily. He produced a prescription for some stronger painkillers, then before Stuart could say 'thank you,' he'd swished aside the cubicle's curtain and moved to the patient in the next cubicle.

'He obviously wasn't one of those doctors who are exhausted after having been on duty for eighteen hours,' Stuart remarked, returning to Stephanie in the waiting area. 'He seemed to find the whole thing highly amusing.'

'Well, maybe it would have been best not to have included the toilet in your explanation, just the brick would have sufficed,' she grinned.

'It's all right to say, "Take a rest" but when you're self-employed it's not that easy,' Stuart moaned to Stephanie that night. He'd already banned Jake's football from the house and instructed both children they couldn't wear shoes inside for a while. As soon as they had arrived home from Vera's Gemma had trodden on her father's foot with her new patent leather Clarkes' shoes.

Stuart ignored the doctor's advice for a few days but found that with Stephanie dropping the children at school before taking him onto the office, he arrived at work later than he liked, and that, along with his aching foot, left him feeling irritable. He was less able to be nice to awkward clients like the Hallwoods and Smythes.

On the third night he dropped the bombshell: 'I'll have to work from home for a while. This travelling is impossible and I can't afford to sit at home doing nothing, so I've decided I shall have to set up a home office. That way I can send messages and receive documents and try to do as few site visits as possible.'

Smiling brightly but inwardly bemoaning the forthcoming temporary restrictions to her freedom that this admittedly sensible plan of Stuart's would bring, Stephanie said, 'That will be lovely, I'll be able to ensure you've to move about as little as possible.'

Chapter 4 – Theatre Capers

'You've not been in theatre before, have you?' asked Steph. Sarah looked confused.

'Theatre? I saw Lion King with my little sister, and I've been to several pantomimes,' she said. Steph looked momentarily confused herself, then understanding dawned. She managed not to laugh.

'I meant an operating theatre. We have to take the mobile X-ray unit up to theatre three and undertake any X-rays the surgeon requests.' Instead of repairing the mobile machines, one had been purchased. Another example, Steph thought, of the gods who run the NHS wasting money.

The girl had the grace to look embarrassed. 'No, I haven't been into an operating theatre but we have been told a bit about it at uni.'

'Well the main things to remember are no touching anything that might be need to be kept sterile, and keep quiet. Oh, also don't sneeze, cough and again, do not touch anything apart from the X-ray machine. Breach any of those rules and the wrath of the theatre sister and the surgeon will come down upon you like nothing you've ever experienced before.'

The girl looked worried. 'But I won't be there on my own, will I? '

Steph saw the concern on Sarah's face and reassured her, 'No, not until you are fully qualified. I will be there.'

'That's a relief! But how long before we go into the operating theatre anyway?' the student asked.

Steph, who had been reading a patient's notes, looked up. The girl had gorgeous blonde hair, blue eyes and the longest eye lashes Steph had ever seen. Heads turned when she walked past. Both male patients and medical staff were attracted to her beauty. Fortunately, Sarah seemed unaware of the affect she was having on the men around her. Also, she was too new to the hospital for her abilities to be assessed. This was her second month, and the second time Steph had supervised her.

'Well, we're going now,' said Steph.

Sarah gulped, and said 'Oh,' rather lamely. She looked worried.

'I will be taking all the images today so all you need to do is watch and listen.' Steph told her. Steph realised that it was going to be 'one of those days.' 'Go and fetch your theatre shoes, and I will find us both lead aprons.'

'Theatre shoes?' Sarah looked confused.

'Didn't the university tell you that you must wear special shoes in theatre? They're plastic, or maybe rubber clogs, and can be sterilised.' The girl's nonplussed looked communicated that she didn't remember.

Steph sighed, 'You can borrow a pair of the spares in the staff room, but I can't guarantee you'll find a pair that fits. Also, they tend to be badly looked after. Some are quite unattractive, and I don't mean they aren't designer ones. I mean they can be tatty.' Steph told the girl. 'It would be best if you buy your own, and keep them in your locker. You must sterilise them after each session in theatre. Do you know how to do that?'

The girl looked dumbly back at her. Oh dear, thought Steph, I've got a really green one here. Several times a year, student radiographers around the country were placed in hospitals to gain real experience. The first-year students had received only a few months input on the theoretical aspects of X-rays and clinical procedures at university, and were often little use in a hospital setting. A huge amount of support and mentoring was required from qualified and experienced staff.

Second year students lorded it over the first years, thinking they knew it all. The third-year students were usually the hardest to handle. They had covered a great deal of the theory, and had maybe six or more months experience in the X-ray departments of various hospitals, but were divided into three categories.

The best were the fairly competent, who were already to be trusted, under supervision, to carry out standard X-rays without messing up and would accept constructive criticism from their experienced elders.

The second category were the ones who think they know everything and disagree with their experienced colleagues and thus more likely to make mistakes.

The third group were the students who had received the same training as the other two groups but who lacked confidence or the ability to undertake even the most routine X-rays without either needing help or making errors.

Of the two latter groups, the second group were likely to be the ones that were most at risk of making decisions without thinking, and possibly causing huge problems for their mentors. They exuded confidence in their abilities that had to be curbed before their gung-ho attitudes caused a disaster. However, this was not confined to radiography students; knowledge is power, and the categories applied to all aspects of medical training, including nurses, physiotherapists, dentists and student doctors.

Steph remembered many cocky students, male and female, who had made mistakes. A recent example was the female student who asked a patient if she were pregnant not registering that she was only seven years old. The child's mother thought the radiography student was talking to her, and demanded to know what business it was of hers. The next day the same student forgot to ask a sixteen-year old if she might be pregnant, and took an image of the girl's ankle. After the X-ray the girl said she'd been on her way for her first pregnancy ultra-sound and tripped on the stairs in the hospital, wrenching her ankle before going to X-ray. The student was seriously reprimanded.

Adam, the qualified radiographer on duty, picked up on that and asked her if she was pregnant. She was five months but hardly showed. The student pretended she'd asked, but the patient records showed she hadn't been asked, so had to be disciplined. The student argued and said as it was only the ankle there wasn't much risk.

The investigation was aggravated by the student not accepting she was at fault. In the end Mel was disciplined too for not supervising her properly. At present, Steph had no idea in which group Sarah was destined to be in two years' time, but suspected that the girl wasn't a natural and hoped she'd finish the course as a competent professional. But it was early days and you just never know.

The man lying in theatre was a motor bike accident victim. These came in with sad regularity. This one had multiple fractures in both legs and needed extensive surgery and pins and plates fitting. This was the second time, since his accident, that he'd been operated on. The surgical team would carry out certain actions, and every now and again call the radiographer for X-rays.

Surgeons can be either jolly, discussing cricket or the performance of their new super-charged luxury car, or helicopter, or they could be surly and bad tempered. Sometimes they started off an operation happy, but some little incident would bring out the lion, growling at anyone who was there to be mauled. One such surgeon was Mr Godber - Forsketh. He invariably came into theatre making some jokes about the weather or the state of the economy, and new staff would relax and look forward to an interesting operation. Then he'd suddenly change and roar at someone in the room. He'd even been known to shout at an unconscious patient.

Today was destined to be the turn of the radiography staff. Steph had already taken two images, and she and Sarah were standing back, watching proceedings. Steph was pleasantly surprised that the girl hadn't fainted at the sight of blood, or at the leg bone protruding through flesh. Maybe she was made of sterner stuff than Steph had thought. The lead apron, however, was clearly heavy and causing her to bend forward. It couldn't be helped, protection against radiation was crucial to protect internal organs.

All was going well. Then she felt the girl stiffen beside her. At that moment the surgeon shouted for another image of part of the leg and Steph and the girl moved forward. Immediately, just as they were close to the instrument tray, the girl sneezed, three times. Her mask should have prevented germs spreading but for some strange reason she wasn't wearing her mask. Steph was sure some must have sprayed onto the sterilised instruments, but worse was to come.

Sarah had been searching for her paper hanky and fumbling under the heavy lead apron managed to find it in her uniform, but then dropped it onto the open wound of the bloody leg.

There was a heavy silence. Everyone, including the surgeon, looked, horrified, at the crumpled, snotty paper tissue in the wound, already turning red with the young man's blood.

Everyone waited, holding their breath. The only sound was of machinery and the hapless girl trying to hold in her tears. Then the roaring started, 'Get that disgusting thing off there, and I want a new set of instruments NOW!!! And get that filthy snivelling creature out now too!' Before he had time to shout more Sarah had fled from the room, the theatre doors crashing behind her.

Steph had no choice but to wait and carry on taking images. She felt sorry for the girl but also sorry for herself as the surgeon carried on his verbal assault against radiographers in general and students in particular and that Steph should have more control over her charges. How she could have prevented the girl sneezing she didn't know, but from now on she'd tell all students that if they felt a sneeze coming on, they should do a one hundred and eighty degree turn so they would be facing away from the operating table. What I'd really like, she thought, would be to go home, have a glass of chilled Chardonnay and put my feet up. However, there were hours to go before she could do so.

Finally, Steph was allowed to leave theatre, and wrestled the mobile X-ray unit into the lift. While waiting for her floor she saw herself in the lift's mirror. Unruly hair, bags under her eyes and the frown lines on her forehead more pronounced than usual.

A week off work would be fantastic, she thought. In term time she could have the house to herself and relax. She vowed to herself she'd try to book a whole week off. The only fly in the ointment was the superintendent, Ruth Pickering. She 'managed' the radiographers, and drew up the rotas and agreed holidays. But the woman was damned awkward, Steph thought, and this view was common across all the radiography staff and the other managers too.

Ruth seemed to delight in upsetting her staff. If someone wanted a day off Ruth would go out of her way to tell somebody else to have that day as a rest day and make the person who requested the day off work that day. She also tried hard to stop 'swaps'. Radiographers would sometimes want to swap the shift that they were down for with a colleague, so they could attend a family function or something important. The superintendent didn't like finding that her finally detailed rota had altered, even if it had no detrimental impact on the hospital.

She was just a control freak, Steph thought, and Steph had often been on the receiving end of the superintendent's meanness. So, if Steph wanted a week off she'd have to play psychological warfare and make Ruth think she was forcing Steph to have the week off. Funnily enough, she hadn't noticed Ruth for a few days and wondered if she were on holiday, or was entombed in her cramped office.

Yes, a week off work was something to think about, Steph thought later. She returned to her department and asked the girl why she hadn't been wearing her mask.

'I was, but when I knew I was going to sneeze I pulled it off with one hand, and intended to use my hanky. I wasn't quick enough. I'm so sorry. Will the surgeon make a complaint about me?' The girl's eyes were red from crying. Steph sympathised with the still upset Sarah, and said she hoped didn't approach Ruth and make a complaint, and they would just have to wait and see.

She then commenced telling her funny stories about other incidents in theatre. Slightly mollified, the girl admitted she'd been silly, but said that the awkwardness of the apron meant she couldn't retrieve her hanky out of her pocket quickly enough.

'Well, next time, whether you are in theatre or here in the X-ray room, if you are going to cough or sneeze, turn away from the patient, OK? In fact, whoever you are with, at work or socially, always turn away from whoever you are with before you sneeze and cough. And always put your hand over your mouth when you cough. OK?' Gosh, Steph thought, I'm sounding like my mother. She was right at times, the old cow.

The girl, still red-eyed, said she'd do just that, and then asked when she could go to theatre again, as she needed to have more experience recorded in her X-ray book. Steph explained that it was a case of waiting to be called. She was pleased the girl was willing to return, and felt she'd learned a valuable lesson. Her gaffe in theatre had temporarily caused the girl distress, but her determination to return was a quality Steph admired.

The next two hours were spent dealing with the procession of patients sent from A&E and the wards. Sarah was certainly new to radiography, but she was willing to learn and asked searching questions, some of which Steph had to consider before answering. During a short break when the waiting room was empty, Steph told Sarah to again practise learning the bones of the hand, using Boney. She realised that each time she had suggested this to the student she'd offered to clean equipment instead. Steph knew she would fail her exams if she didn't know basic anatomy. A few minutes later Steph joined her in the staff room and found her staring at the corner of the room where the skeleton usually leaned and leered. Boney was absent. They decided someone had borrowed him, and Sarah sighed her relief at avoiding the monotonous and extremely difficult task.

Her shift having finished, Steph looked forward almost guiltily to her prospective week off work, whenever that may be. But, she decided, she'd delay her week off until Stuart had returned to work. It would definitely not be a rest if she had to tend to her husband's every whim while his toes mended.

She turned her blue Citroen Picasso into the drive, parking in front of the garage door. Stuart's BMW would be inside. Steph attempted to fully open the front door. Something was blocking it. Peering through the gap she saw Gemma's school bag was right behind the front door. The contents were scattered across the hall. Pencil case, school books, a selection of erasers in the shape of animals, lunch box, P E kit and a battered, going-black banana met her gaze and a school coat was on the lower steps of the staircase. Worse was to come.

Walking through to the living room, her feet crunching on goodness knows what and calling out to her family by names, but not receiving a response, she saw that the sofa cushions were on the floor and a trail of crushed biscuits led into the kitchen. Here she found more mess. It appeared some gremlins, or maybe a Harry Potter Dobby-type creature had been ransacking the kitchen, leaving all surfaces and the floor covered in flour, sugar and butter and blood. Blood! No, if they were making biscuits or jammy dodgers it would be red jam.

Baking trays were soaking in the sink and then she saw the oddly shaped biscuits cooling by the microwave. Closer inspection showed that there were two distinctly different cooks. Half the biscuits were in the shape of animals. No cookie cutters had been used. Guessing Gemma was that chef, Steph saw a giraffe, cat [or might be a dog or rabbit], snake and perhaps a fish or dolphin.

Jake's designs were taken from Doctor Who. Cooling on some grease-proof paper Steph saw a Tardis, a Dalek and a human figure that might be the Doctor himself holding something. They had obviously had fun but presumably the Doctor would wave his sonic screwdriver (Ah, that's what the biscuit was holding) and all the mess would be cleaned up. Or would that be Harry Potter who would magic the mess away.

Crunching her way over to the fridge behind the remains of last night's lasagne she found the bottle of wine she and Stuart had started yesterday, and poured a huge glass full, then took a swig. 'Ummmm, lovely. What happened to my decision to drink less alcohol.'

Ordinarily, she'd have been annoyed at the mess. After a hot tiring day, she expected to return to a not necessarily spotless house, but not one that looked like aliens had landed, ransacked the contents of the cupboards, then spirited away her family.

Where were they. The house was eerily quiet. The garden, too, was deserted. A recce of upstairs proved no-one was there either.

Odd.

Then she took another look at the jam.

It wasn't jam. She was right first time.

It was blood. Radiographers didn't see as much blood as nurses and doctors, but they see enough to recognise the iron smell, colour and consistency. There was a fair amount of blood. Terror gripped her. Had one of the children chopped a finger off while cutting out the biscuits?

Calm down, she told herself. In her job she knew a little blood went a long way. Something had happened and Stuart had taken the children to either the doctor or local A&E hospital. But why hadn't he phoned her. She couldn't see a note, so took her phone out of her bag and looked at it. Low battery. She tried to access her voicemails but the phone was dead.

Quickly, she found the charger, plugged it in and connected the phone. Seconds later she saw 'voicemail received' on the screen. Stuart had left her a message that Jake had been waving a small sharp knife around his head while they were starting to wash up and managed to slice into his own nostril. They were at the hospital and Jake was having some butterfly stitches. He was going to be all right.

Steph breathed a sigh of relief. Silly boy. And poor Stuart had had to drive them there with his poor painful toes. She hoped he'd coped and wouldn't be stopped by police, who would probably regard his temporary disability as a reason not to drive, and fine him.

Expecting her family back any minute, she started the huge task of cleaning and tidying. She bet Jake wasn't going to want to go to school with white butterfly stitches on his nose. Twenty minutes later she heard a car outside, but it didn't sound like Stuart's. Looking out of the lounge window, she saw Stuart, crutches in his left hand, leaning in to pay the taxi driver. The children were jumping up and down. Had she looked in the garage, she'd have seen his car there, and could have arranged to collect them from hospital. She was extremely glad she hadn't needed to. As usual, she felt tired.

Two excited children burst into the hall, each competing to tell their version of events. His mother's opinion that her son wouldn't want to go to school for a while was overturned when Jake shouted, 'Zak and Flynn are going to be SO jealous when they see my stitches.' His nose certainly looked interesting. It looked far worse than it probably was. He'd be the centre of attention at school tomorrow.

Chapter 5 Boney and Facebook

'Did you see Boney on Facebook last night? ' Steph heard someone ask as she locked her car in the hospital car park. Turning, she saw Mel coming towards her.

'No, a student hasn't put a photo of him on has he? Surely no-one is that stupid?' she replied.

'Yes and no. There is a photo, in fact lots of photos of Boney on Facebook, but not on a student's own page. Some bright spark has set up a Facebook account solely for Boney,' Mel replied.

Steph looked at her in amazement. 'No, really? I didn't know that was possible. So, the culprit can't be identified?' she asked.

'That's right. Don't know how they did it or how long the account has been open, but Boney now has his own account, with lots of 'friends' and photos of him in various situations. You must look, it's a scream. Two of his 'friends' look like Boney wearing different clothes so they must have signed up for two more Facebook accounts.'

'Can they do that?'

'I suppose so. I don't know if Facebook check that the person is actually alive with operative organs. The two new ones are called Skelly and Kelly. Skelly has pyjamas and Kelly is wearing a ball gown which makes me wonder if one of the students who kidnapped Boney is female,' said Mel.

'Or has a sister or girlfriend who has loaned the frock,' suggested Steph.

'I would love to be a fly on the wall when Ruth finds out,' said Mel.

They wandered towards the entrance, passing the smoking shelter with inpatients standing next to their drip stands, puffing greedily on cigarettes, and one wheelchair patient sitting next to an oxygen cylinder, smoking a cigar.

'So, has Boney been returned to imaging?' Steph asked her friend.

'Don't know. I suspect not. If Ruth sees the photos she'll have another reason to terrorise the department, but I'm not convinced it's radiography students who have done this; my bet is student doctors.'

'I suspect you're right. They don't have a reputation for recklessness and mayhem without just cause. Luckily, they seem to get it out of their systems before they qualify or we'd have a right shower of doctors treating people. What's our pal Boney doing in the photos?'

Mel laughed, 'You really do need to see for yourself but they all seem to be 'selfies' of Boney in various places, such as wearing a blonde wig and peering into a ladies' hair salon; grinning with dentures next to the sign of a dental surgery, and standing at a urinal.'

Steph spluttered, 'Those I've got to see. I will send a friend request so I can follow his exploits. Let's see if he's been returned to our department.

Mel and Steph relieved the two agency radiographers who had covered the night shift then confirmed the skeleton was not on his stand in the small common room.

'I wonder how long before Ruth appears on the warpath,' mused Steph. 'I'm not looking forward to that.'

'She does love something to get her teeth into. I don't know if she even knows what Facebook is so we might be OK,' said Mel. 'Right, let's see what the day has in store for us.' She took a quick look at the list of GP referrals then passed it to her colleague. 'All run of the mill so should be an easy morning. Fancy a cuppa?'

'Yes please, I need a shot of caffeine to wake me up properly,' said Steph, yawning and stretching.

The morning went fairly as Mel predicted, with a steady stream of out-patients clutching X-ray request forms. Steph was annoyed with one mother whose young son was alternating between running around the waiting room screaming and then jumping on the plastic chairs. Having her head in a magazine she seemed oblivious to the tut-tuts from other patients, and only remonstrated with her son when Steph told the young lad to sit down and behave.

The mother said, 'If you don't bloody sit still and shut up that fucking doctor will stick fucking needles in you.'

Steph was horrified and said, 'I'm not a doctor and certainly won't stick needles in you.' The child looked terrified and clearly believed his mother, and not the stranger wearing weird hospital issue faded purple cotton trousers and matching baggy top. When the mother went through for a chest X-ray, the boy remained glued to the plastic seat in the waiting room. That boy will have nightmares and a fear of hospital, nurses and doctors after his mother's silly statement, Steph thought.

That wasn't the first time that parents had issued warnings of dire consequences to their children when in hospital. It's as if doctors and nurses are bogeymen, Steph thought, not professional lifesavers.

She'd heard stories of ambulance men and paramedics having to retreat from the city's notorious Strand estate when they and their ambulances were targeted with rocks and bricks. Three weeks before, a man in his fifties had died because the ambulance crew had been set about with bricks resulting in the driver being permanently blinded in one eye and a colleague having to drive away in retreat. The heart attack victim's family had pleaded with their neighbours to allow him to be treated, but insanity prevailed.

Since then, police in riot vans were supposed to accompany emergency vehicles, but three days before a maisonette on the same estate burned down, along with the maisonette above, because the police were all attending a hostage situation by a gun-wielding spurned husband elsewhere on the estate and the fire crew were not able to reach the burning properties due to gangs with bricks and baseball bats at the entrance to the estate. The sad thing, she thought, was that many of the assailants were children as young as six, learning from their older brothers and fathers. On a couple of recent occasions, it was felt that the 999 calls were purely to provide some sport for the residents, and that the stated emergencies were fabrications. What a world we live in now, she thought.

While Steph was on her break, she smothered two slices of toast with marmalade then looked for Boney's Facebook page on her phone. She'd just requested being a friend of Boney, thinking she must be going mad by making friends with the department's skeleton when she saw a small group of nurses and doctors at the notice board which was situated next to one of the windows. They were laughing. After a couple of minutes, the group left the canteen and Steph could see some photos pinned to the board. Vowing to wander over when she'd finished her refreshments, she saw another group of medical staff gather around the same notice board. The normal posters reminding people how to wash their hands properly and information about union news were normally ignored by all. This must be something really worth seeing, she decided, so despite not having finished her coffee she joined the laughing group of staff.

There were three photos of Boney, all as Mel described. The urinal was the least savoury, although quite well done as there was no evidence of the person supporting Boney, and, of course, Boney did not possess any 'rude' bits for display.

Whoever is doing this is certainly providing some entertainment for his or her colleagues, she thought. She knew all the members of the small gathering and agreed that management probably wouldn't find it funny, although no harm was being done.

'Steph, the rumour is this is the radiographers' skeleton, is that right?' asked Jenny, a nurse on one of the geriatric wards.

Before Steph could reply, Dr James Trackle interrupted. 'How can you tell? It could be anyone's.'

'It could be, 'Steph agreed, but ours went AWOL recently, and some of the identifying features are two broken ribs, a thumb missing from the right hand and a nose constructed out of Blu-tak.'

'Who took it?' asked another doctor.

'Goodness knows, ' said Steph, 'but our theory is it's one of your med students. You know their reputation,' she said, laughter in her voice.

'I'm shocked and offended that you could even consider one of our serious, hard-working and hard studying undergraduate doctors would even think of doing such a thing!' protested James Trackle.

Without even glancing his way Steph recognised his tone was humorous.

'Anyway, it's just a bit of fun, although I think your superintendent, Ruth the Rottweiler, will have something to complain about if your radiography students can't practise their bones,' James said.

'I know, that's why I hope Boney is returned asap,' said Steph. 'Anyway, why haven't they kidnapped your skeleton?'

'What skeleton?' asked Dr. Ian Yewtry. 'Ours went missing over a year ago. Despite threats, warnings and then a promise of no reprisals it was never returned. We think a student sold it, but we have no evidence.'

Jenny peered at her upside-down nurse's watch. 'Aaahh! I must go or Sister Marchant will put me down for a week of nights if I'm late.'

The rest of the group followed her out. Steph returned to her cold coffee, retrieved her phone and bag and went to relieve Mel.

'Why do I have to have an X-ray?' demanded a child, perhaps five years old. 'I don't want one.'

'If you sit still and behave for the nice nurse I will buy you a bag of Smarties,' cooed the boy's mother.

'I don't like X-rays. X-rays will give me tummy ache.'

Steph and Alex's mum were taken aback by the child's logic, particularly as his mother confirmed that Alex had never had an X-ray before, and this image was to be on his arm, not his stomach.

'Alex,' said Steph, bending down to his level, 'Why don't you like X-rays?'

'I told you, they hurt my tummy!' shouted the child.

'But the X-ray will be of your arm, not your tummy,' explained Steph.

'I don't want my arm cut open!'

Alex's mum and Steph exchanged looks. What on earth, Steph wondered, is the little chap talking about.

'Alex, have you ever had an X-ray?'

'No and don't want one,' came the assertive response.

'Do you know anyone who had an X-ray?' asked Steph.

'Yes, Ahmed had one and they cut his tummy open. He didn't die though.'

Steph and his mum exchanged looks again. The radiographer nodded her head towards the other side of the waiting area to indicate to Alex's mother to follow her.

'Have you any idea what he's talking about?' asked Steph. 'And who is Ahmed?'

'He's a boy in Alex's class. I understand now. Ahmed was at school a few weeks ago and told the teacher he'd swallowed a pencil sharpener and his lunch money. He was taken to hospital and had to have an operation to remove the items. They also found a USB stick and his mother's gold earrings. Alex knows about all that and the X-rays Ahmed had. But why he thinks he'll swallow an X-ray is baffling.'

Steph laughed, 'I've two young children and a husband and I find all three baffling at times!'

It took some coaxing and explaining that X-rays aren't swallowed; that they're photos of parts of the body before Alex would allow his mother to take him into X-ray. In the end, his mother was able to stand outside while the images were taken. The whole incident took about twenty minutes, so Steph was pleased Mel was able to reduce the list of patients using the other imaging room.

Funny little tyke, she thought. Children were unpredictable, sometime atrocious and precocious, but never boring.

Chapter 6 – Do not use mobile phones in this hospital

'Thomas Black,' called Steph. A smart man, talking into his mobile phone, stood up. He was in a grey pinstripe suit and had a mobile phone firmly glued to his ear. He walked slowly towards Steph, still talking and not making eye contact.

'Mr Black, would you please turn off your mobile phone,' Steph asked him.

There was a plethora of signs around the whole hospital warning people not to use their phones inside. Most people complied, but the worst offenders were young people texting and business people, shouting into their phones. Mr Black ignored Steph and carried on a loud conversation with the unseen listener.

'Mr Black, please end the conversation and turn off your phone.' Steph demanded. If her husband and children had been here, the irritation in her voice would have resulted in them complying immediately; they knew how angry she could get. Mr Black gestured as if she were an irritating fly buzzing around his head, then turned his back on her and resumed his discussion.

'Right,' muttered Steph under her breath, 'If you can't heed the rules then you can wait.' She glanced at the job sheet for the next name.

'Cindy Balshaw,' she called out. A mousey looking woman in her fifties put up her hand.

'Follow me,' Steph said, and the two women disappeared into the changing area. The woman put on the gown as directed, sat on the chair in the cubicle and waited to be called into the X-ray room. Steph was preparing the equipment to take the shoulder images. Just as she was about to go to the cubicle and ask the woman to follow her into the X-ray room, the door of the X-ray room was flung open and the mobile phone man charged in.

'I'm next. I've been waiting ages,' the man protested.

'Please leave this room and await your turn outside,' Steph told him, walking towards the door.

'It IS my turn,' he shouted. 'You called my name and here I am.'

'Only after I had asked you several times to turn off your phone, and then you turned your back on me,' she retorted.

'I was in the middle of a very important business deal,' he shouted again. 'Something you wouldn't understand. I demand to be seen now. I've a very important meeting to attend. I bet that woman,' he said and pointed at the timid patient who gathered her gown around her legs, 'only has shopping to do before she returns home to make her husband's tea.'

What a positively odious and sexist man, Steph thought.

'Mr Black, I will deal with you when you've calmed down. Please leave this X-ray room and return to the waiting room outside.'

The man puffed out his chest. 'I won't be spoken to by some nurse who thinks she can boss me about. I shall complain.'

'Fine, go and complain. If you head back to reception you can fill in a form there. My name is Stephanie Kerris and I'm not a nurse; I'm a radiographer.'

'That's semantics,' he said.

'Not at all,' she retorted. 'Nurses are not trained to take X-rays.'

'All you've to do is press a button,' he shouted.

Before Steph could disabuse him of this common misconception, and before the odious patient could postulate further, two security men came in. They had been called by worried patients in the waiting area.

'What's up Steph?' asked Tony. He was six feet four inches tall and built like a rugby player. His colleague Steve was nearly as big. In the narrow confines of the X-ray room near the door the four of them left little room for manoeuvre. The arrogant businessman took a step back, and then was suddenly disconcerted at finding himself against the wall.

'Thanks lads, but Mr Black just needs showing where the waiting room is. He seems to have got lost.' Steph said. 'And can you please ask him to turn off his phone?'

'Righto,' said Steve, and opened the door for the now quiet business man to rush through. The two beefy security men followed.

Steph took the images of the woman's shoulder then returned to the waiting area. She wasn't surprised to see Mr Black sitting meekly on a plastic chair with Steve and Tony like bookends either side of him. Other patients were audibly sniggering. She was about to invite the now quiet businessman in, when Tony caught her eye.

'Carry on love,' he said, 'Mr Black here is just having a nice little chat with us about hospital etiquette, and how to speak to a lady.' Smiling, Steph called the next patient.

During a lull an hour later Khalid, one of the senior managers, and one that most staff respected, popped his head round the X-ray room door.

'Steph, have you a minute?' he asked.

'I'm free at present, although no doubt someone will appear soon.'

'I need your help. Ruth is off and I can't find the shift rota. Do you know anyone's shifts for the next week?'

Steph hadn't noticed that the superintendent still wasn't in. She reflected that whilst Ruth's presence was noticeable and people would try to avoid her, her absence wasn't noticed at all. She thought it quite normal for Ruth to leave her work to someone else.

'I'm sorry but I only know my shifts and those of three students, Rachel, Sarah and Blaize.'

Khalid looked harassed. 'Thanks, can you write them onto this blank rota please Steph. I think the only way I'm going to find out is by contacting every radiographer. Ruth said she'd done the rota and that it was on her desk but I can't find it. She's off sick as she's having an operation on her thumb tomorrow.'

Steph did as requested, mentally recalling the rotas of the two students. Taking the sheets from her Khalid continued, 'We're going to have to adhere to the European Working Time Directive soon. When we implement it our jobs sorting rotas will be harder. We won't be having so many twenty-four-hour shifts.'

Noticing that he sounded regretful, she refrained from saying that she, and many colleagues, hated such long shifts. Even though she'd have the following day off she was always exhausted as she rarely managed to get to bed when on-call.

He continued, 'We're going to have to employ more radiographers, as well as other hospital medical staff, and the Trust doesn't know where the money is coming from.'

'How will the shifts work?'

'We're looking into what other hospitals are doing. The problem will be the night shifts. I don't think many people will want to do permanent nights. What do you think?' he asked Steph.

She quickly considered the answer, not wanting to be thought awkward. 'I agree that permanent nights might be unpopular with some. But having a week of days then, after a gap, a week of nights, might also be unpopular,' said Steph.

She realised she was sitting on the fence but she knew that the hospital managers would not take into account the preferences of medical staff anyway. Steph had discussed this with several of her colleagues, and other medical staff. There was a range of preferences. Some wouldn't mind alternating weeks of days and nights, others only nights and most, like Steph, wanted only days, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. was the most popular. But she wasn't going to admit that, even to Khalid, nice as he was. Sighing, the manager gave his thanks and wandered off.

With the knowledge that the superintendent was off sick from work, Steph relaxed. She wished she'd known sooner because when Ruth was at work, there was always the possibility that she'd appear like the Grim Reaper, and stress all 'her' radiographers. And fancy being off work just because she was to have an operation on her thumb. Steph now recalled that she'd heard her manager needed a tendon loosening due to trigger thumb. Even if it was her right thumb surely she could still work. But Steph hoped the nasty woman was in lots of pain and wouldn't return for ages. There had been no evidence of Mr. Godber-Forsketh having complained to Ruth about the sneezing incident, and Steph fervently hoped he'd forgotten about it.

With her stomach rumbling she looked forward to lunch. Glancing at the clock she realised there was still over half an hour to go. Another radiographer was due on at 1 o'clock. Steph didn't know who but hoped it wasn't the new radiographer called Darren. She'd heard he was a real prat. Once the radiographer arrived Steph could go for something to eat. She normally brought sandwiches, but with Stuart hobbling around, still unable to drive the children to school, Steph had to rush about in the morning, and drop them at school before going to work or if she was working before 9 a.m. organise with another parent to do the school run. Making sandwiches for herself came very low down on the schedule.

'Hi Steph, remember me?'

Steph, having just led a patient out of the X-ray room turned at the salutation. A beautiful Indian girl was smiling, holding out her arms. Steph responded with a huge grin and moved toward her for a hug.

'Jas, it's ages since I last saw you. Where have you been working?'

Still smiling, the other radiographer said, 'I'm doing agency work now. It fits in better with the baby. I've been here a couple of shifts this month but not when you were on.'

'I seem to be doing more night shifts than usual. I think it's because Ruth knows I dislike nights so is putting me down for as many nights as she can,' said Steph, pulling a face.

Jas laughed. 'That's why I like agency work. If I have to work with or for odious people I just say no. There's no shortage of work at present. I can pick and choose.'

'How old is the baby now?' Steph asked.

'Eight months. Finally sleeping through the night, thank goodness.'

'And are you planning any more?' Steph asked.

The girl furrowed her brow before saying, 'That's an issue. My mother-in-law wants me to keep producing until I have a boy. She insists that it is my fault that the first baby is a girl. I tried to explain that it's the male that determines what sex the baby is but she isn't having it. Nag, nag, nag every time she sees me.'

'So, are you giving in?'

Jas laughed, 'No fear, I'm on the pill. My husband knows and he agrees with me that we will have another child when we're ready, not when we're told by our families. I'm lucky he's westernised in his views. The husbands of some of my friends feel they must have a son, so will keep their wives pregnant until a boy is born. My sister is one of them. She's twenty-two but has produced four daughters so far. I've told her to secretly go on the pill, but she says she wants to please her husband. She's exhausted looking after four children under six. It's not impossible that she could hit thirty-five and still not have a boy.'

'Gosh, I had two children two years apart and I found that exhausting enough,' said Steph.

'Anyway,' said Jas. 'What have we on for this afternoon?'

Steph looked at the list of ward patients. Jas had removed her coat and put it in the locker.

When Steph looked up she remarked, 'Gosh Jas, you look even slimmer than before you were pregnant. What's the secret?'

Jas smiled, 'It's simple really - I don't eat typical Indian food. It's full of fat so far too many calories. Nan breads are fat and carbohydrate. I cook curries etc., for my husband who definitely is putting on weight, and I eat a more western diet: fruit, vegetables, chicken and fish. Oh, and avoiding sweets, puddings, cakes, chocolate.'

That's where I go wrong,' replied Steph, looking again at her slim colleague. 'I just absolutely have to have doughnuts and chocolate muffins at work. Now there are Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the staff canteen I must have them. I wish I had self-control like you,' she said wistfully.

'Steph, it's incredibly hard. I sometimes go to bed a bit hungry, but I absolutely do not want to be the size of my mother, sisters and my mother-in-law. They're all as wide as they are tall!'

'Maybe I'll try again. You're right; it's very hard not to eat lovely, fattening things. Anyway, you asked what's on the agenda today. We will be called into theatre sometime around 3 o'clock. One of us to go and the other to stay. What's your preference?'

'I don't mind. Although I haven't been in theatre for ages so perhaps I should go. If I was to go for a permanent job it wouldn't look too good if I haven't had recent theatre experience.'

'OK,' said Steph. 'I'm happy here. As you've arrived early, would you mind taking over while I go for lunch now?'

'No problem, and remember your new mantra, "I will not eat fattening food. I will not eat fattening food,"' both women laughed. 'So, stay away from the doughnuts!!!!'

Steph smiled, 'OK, I'll try that. And I'll tell Mel I saw you and how fantastic you look when I see her.'

'Mel, I forgot about her. Has she managed to get pregnant yet,' asked Jas.

Steph looked solemn. 'No, not yet. They have started IVF but she's keeping it quiet. She doesn't want people repeatedly asking her if it's worked.'

'OK, if I see her I won't say anything. There's my sister turning them out like a production line, and others who desperately want babies and can't.'

'I know. It's unfair isn't it? Anyway, I'll be off now. See you soon.'

On her way upstairs to the staff canteen Steph reflected on her conversation with Jas. I can do it, she thought. I can lose weight. At present I only have to lose fewer than two stone, but if I don't do something about it now I'll be very overweight by the time I'm fifty. Then I could have diabetes, knackered knees and heart disease. Right. Today I start my diet. I will not eat fattening food, I will not eat fattening food.

The canteen was quite busy and noisy with staff catching up with colleagues. Steph looked around to see who she could sit next to. Loud laughter came from a group of people over by the window. She recognised some of the doctors and nurses. Making her way over to them, one of the men waved to her.

'Hi Steph, come over here. Hey you two ladies shift your handbags off that seat,' he instructed. The nurse and doctor complied and Steph sat down on the one empty chair.

'What delectation do you recommend today?' she asked the group. There were seven members of staff she knew, and one new person she hadn't seen before. The stethoscope sticking out of the white coat pocket told her she was a doctor. Steph nodded a 'hello' to the woman who stared at her, then turned to the doctor next to her without acknowledging Steph.

A rebuff, Steph thought. There were some medical staff who showed superiority towards anyone who they considered lower than them. It looked like this was one of them. Doctors always had a stethoscope somewhere about their person, so Steph's lack of the essential item, and her scrubs, told everyone she wasn't a doctor. She shrugged off the insult. Before she could quietly ask the nurse sitting next to her who the doctor was she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Sadie, a nurse on one of the cardiac wards.

'I can recommend the lasagne, and the chocolate bread pudding with custard is lovely,' said Sadie.

Steph thought that sounded a good idea and then took a proper look at the speaker. Sadie had ballooned in the five or so weeks since Steph had last seen her. Sadie had come from a hospital up north, fewer than eight weeks ago. It looked like she really enjoyed the stodgy canteen food here.

'Thanks, but I really fancy a ham and egg salad,' Steph told her. In reality, if she hadn't had that conversation with Jas a few minutes before, Steph would probably have opted for Sadie's suggestions. She joined the queue at the counter, avoiding a waste bin which was three-quarters full of water. It was not uncommon to see buckets and various containers dotted around the hospital, collecting drips of water from the roof or leaking pipes. The previous winter, one of the students had trawled around the hospital counting buckets. When she told Steph she'd found thirteen, Steph believed her. Hospital management had the difficult task of trying to balance budgets. Patient treatment was expensive, so repairs to a leaking roof and pipes were often delayed, sometimes by years. Then, of course, the 'stitch in time saves nine' adage was appropriate, with the repairs having escalated due to the problem worsening.

Noticing that her tray was dirty, she put it on a nearby table and selected another one. Shoddy cleanliness was sometimes an issue. Steph felt that if they couldn't do something simple like clean the trays, what hope was there to eradicate hospital superbugs. Not seeing a ham and egg salad, she chose a tuna mayonnaise salad. It was not quite as healthy but far better than Sadie's suggestions. For dessert she chose low fat yoghurt, after her hand had picked up a Krispy Kreme doughnut with tongs, then, with extreme self-control she put the doughnut back. Gosh this was hard.

By the time she'd returned to her table the snooty doctor and a couple of nurses had returned to duty.

Sitting next to Sadie, she asked, 'Who was that doctor sitting there?' indicating the empty seat with a nod of her head.

'Oh her. She's a right snooty bitch. She came the same week as me and we had our induction together. Just the two of us. And do you know, when I told her I'm a nurse, she refrained from speaking to me for the three days of the induction course.'

'Why does she think she's so important?' Steph asked.

'Well, I understand her father is a surgeon here, It's Mr. Godber-Forsketh. She's Felicity Godber-Forsketh.'

'Ah. He was in theatre the other day when one of the radiography students sneezed during an op.'

'I bet he exploded. I'd only been here a week when I came across him and he frightened me. But that's probably why his daughter is so up her own arse. She comes from a long line of medics and feels we should all bow and scrape to her,' said the nurse.

'Well, I hope she doesn't try it on with me because I won't put up with it,' said Steph feelingly.

Jas had been working hard while her colleague was on her break. Jas loved her job, and was determined not to bow to both her parents' and mother-in-law's demands that she give up work to stay at home being a skivvy to her husband, daughter and her husband's family. She knew she was fortunate that unlike most married Indian women, she lived with her husband and daughter in their own home. Tradition dictated that new brides lived with their in-laws. However, there was a sea-change with Indian men and women who had been born in the UK, and more were insisting on their own homes after marriage.

Jas disliked her mother-in-law with an intensity bordering on hatred. The less she saw of her the better. The woman had wanted her son to marry into a wealthy family, and his bride to be from one of the professions. Her radiographer daughter-in-law, who, although from the correct caste, had been born to a mere corner shop owner. That her parents had worked seven days a week for years and put all four children through university was a source of gratitude to Jas, but her mother-in-law had been extremely upset that her son had chosen his own bride, having rejected having one flown over for him from India. Her mother-in-law openly disapproved of her son's wife working. She should stay at home full time to provide her husband's every need. So, in her mother-in-law's eyes, working was bad enough, but Jas's chosen career meaning she not only saw near naked males, but actually touched them when positioning parts of their bodies for X-rays was the final straw. Jas was now branded as a harlot, and her mother-in-law now never spoke to her, only at her. It was like water off a duck's back to Jas.

On nearing the X-ray department's waiting area, Steph could hear the babble of voices. Rounding the corner, she saw over a dozen people sitting down, most with referral forms in their hands. Seeing that her colleague was just taking a patient through to the changing cubicle, Steph looked at the list and called the next person. It looked to be a busy afternoon, and when Jas went into theatre Steph knew she was going to be rushed off her feet. Well at least the time would go quickly.

Chapter 7 – The Children's hospital

Brightly painted walls, balloons, a plethora of cuddly toys and light-catching mobiles attempted to create a fun atmosphere in the Children's Hospital.

'Hi Leonie, how are you? Jacob, love that teddy. Mohammed, have you eaten any fruit today?' Steph tried to make eye contact with each child waiting for X-rays, one sitting quietly in a wheelchair whilst the other two ran around as if they shouldn't be there. These children were in-patients and had been in and out of hospital for most of their short lives. Having a good memory for faces and putting a name to a face was useful and she hoped more welcoming for each child.

Most medical staff experienced a range of emotions at the Children's; tears, laughter, amusement, fear for their charges, or anger at the parents when they made silly demands. Also sorrow when a seriously ill child lay listlessly in bed hooked up to drips and monitors then died. Despite having seen many children die over the years, Steph still wept, as did many other hospital staff.

Today, in addition to the usual children whom she shared with Adam, a new but experienced radiographer, she'd had a couple sent from A&E. One seven-year-old called Emily, had returned for a second set of X-rays on her wrist and elbow, two weeks after the first set. Emily had fallen down with her arm extended and had immediately had a swollen and painful wrist. She had a distal radius fracture, colloquially called FOOSH - fall on out-stretched hand. It took several years for students to remember all the unofficial acronyms, but it did mean that any eaves-dropping patients hadn't a clue what was being said about them.

Emily wasn't an in-patient but being accident-prone, was no stranger to the hospital and always made an enormous fuss about having X-rays. Mother appeared to be a downtrodden, mousy figure, ruled by her spoiled daughter. This time looked to be as trying as the previous occasion. As before, Emily wouldn't go into the X-ray room without her mother.

'Emily,' Steph said, 'Do you remember when you came last time, Mum had to stay outside didn't she?'

'I don't care, I want my mother,' and started screaming to emphasise her point. Huge crocodile tears, Steph thought, perhaps meanly, coursing down her chubby cheeks.

'Nurse, surely it wouldn't hurt for me to stay with her this time?' pleaded the mother.

'No, I'm sorry but you are not allowed in the X-ray room. It's against hospital policy and I do feel that you are better off out here.'

Secretly, Steph felt that having a parent nearby encouraged bad behaviour in many children. It took two X-rays and lots of counting to ten to control her temper for the process to be complete. The child wouldn't co-operate at first and all Steph's patience was stretched. Finally, she got the little girl down and took her back to mum. She gave the child a sticker saying 'Be nice to me, I've been to hospital.' Steph hoped it would be a long time before she saw the child again.

Downtrodden mother and brattish daughter went on their way back to A&E for a doctor to check nothing was wrong. Three times now the child had claimed her arm was hurting, worrying her mother who thought it was broken.

'Heaven help the mother if Emily ever has a broken leg immobilised in plaster,' Steph said to Adam.

Adam had already proven himself to be a competent diagnostic radiographer. He was good looking, charismatic and keen to learn. From his arrival on the first day at the Infirmary other radiographers, students and support staff had gone out of their way to help him settle in, the common denominator being that they were all female. Adam had previously been a teacher, and, at the age of twenty-six decided to study radiography.

'I realise I couldn't have done it if I had been married with a wife, mortgage and maybe a family,' he confided in Steph. 'It was a hard slog financially, but I'm enjoying this far more than teaching biology to sixteen-year olds.'

Adam appeared to be perfect, and Steph wasn't alone in wondering what his weakness was. He was confident, knowledgeable and didn't throw his weight around. There had to be some flaw to his character. Steph then realised that she was turning into a real cynic.

During the afternoon a boy aged eight came in with his father. Fathers were usually less trouble than mothers. They were quite happy for their child to be taken into the X-ray room and didn't fuss. This man seemed to be one of those.

'Oliver,' said Adam, 'what happened to your arm?'

The boy slid a glance at his father and muttered, 'I fell out of a tree.'

'OK, how high up the tree were you?' Adam asked. It was clear the boy didn't know, but Adam was really only chatting to put the lad at ease.

His father supplied the answer. 'It was about six feet, luckily. Any higher and he might just have broken his neck.'

Adam thought to himself that he could have broken his neck or back at only three feet or even less depending on how he fell. He took the boy into the X-ray room. He didn't appear to be frightened, more interested in the equipment. Adam spent a couple of minutes showing him the X-ray equipment and talking about how it was all digital now. The boy asked some quite bright questions. He chatted away while Adam took some images and saw that there was a greenstick fracture of the arm. Unfortunately, it was fairly typical in a child. He wasn't supposed to show the boy his X-ray but he was so inquisitive Adam hoped Ruth wouldn't find out. Oliver was entranced and then asked why the 'photo' wasn't in colour.

As the lad left with his father Adam heard him say, 'I'm not going to be a fireman dad; I want to be a photographer of people's bones.'

Later, Steph took the mobile X-ray unit along to one of the wards to X-ray a very sick child. None of the mobile units moved easily. They all had problems with wheels. Some wobbled, some stuck and some fell off. Trying to get them into lifts was tricky.

Three months before, one of the students had been told to take a mobile X-ray unit up to a ward where a trained radiographer would supervise her doing an X-ray. The girl was a tiny little thing, only a size six, much to the envy of the older staff. Ordinarily, she found it difficult to move some of the older and heavier mobile machines, but this particular one was a beast to manoeuvre. She kept tugging at the mobile unit to try to get it over the uneven lift entrance, then it suddenly shot towards her, pinning her against the lift wall and breaking her ankle. Students were now banned from moving the mobile units. Investment was needed to maintain the equipment or even better, buy new equipment but the health service just didn't have the money.

People the world over were impressed and envious of the British National Health Service, but it cost the country a queen's ransom to keep it going for the benefit of all. Khalid's concern about the European Working Time Directive was a valid one. More staff would be needed, but the trust's budget wouldn't be increased to cover the increased payroll.

Panda Ward - each children's' ward was named after an animal - had eight beds and was for the more serious cases. Today Steph saw that every bed was occupied, but there wasn't a sound from the children. Eight healthy children together would have been screeching and whooping and laughing and running about. The contrast was sad. Pale little faces propped up on pillows, some asleep, some attached to IVs, one boy, totally bald, was staring into space. Several adults were sitting by the beds, despair in the eyes of most.

Steph's heart went out to them all. So far, she was blessed with two noisy, naturally naughty children who were healthy and happy. Since working in hospitals, she was painfully aware that a healthy child could quickly become an unhealthy child and have a serious or life-limiting illness.

The X-ray was for the bald child. Steph knew him. Five-year-old Tony had been in and out of hospital for the past fourteen months. He was enduring cancer and had endured several operations and chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The child looked exhausted, as did his mother sitting next to him, hope fading in her eyes. She looked at Steph and tried to smile a welcome, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Steph smiled back, but knew that she couldn't be too exuberant as this was a painful situation, and mother and child need careful handling, their emotions fragile like spun glass.

She greeted Tony by name, then undertook several chest X-rays. They were low dosage, so mum was able to be in eye contact with her little boy. Neither mother nor child spoke during the process, although Steph maintained a fairly cheery description of what she was doing and why, but as she finished and said goodbye, the mother followed her to the door out of the ward and grabbed her hand.

'Thank you and everyone for what you've done for Tony. He's my only child. I will always be grateful for how he's been looked after. I know there's no hope left, but I also know that any possible treatments have been made available to him. Mr. Sutton said that even if I sold our house it wouldn't buy him better care. Thank you.' The woman then slowly walked back to her son's bedside.

Steph had to leave the mobile unit in the corridor while she went into the toilet and sobbed. This was one of the times when she was sure there wasn't a God. He, or she, wouldn't allow this to happen to innocent children if there really were a caring God. Ten minutes later she arrived back at the department.

Adam looked at her and asked, 'What's up? What's happened?' with concern in his voice.

Steph realised she must still look red and puffy eyed. 'Terminally ill children, that's what. I wish I didn't care.'

'Steph, if you didn't care you would be a monster. Look, go on a break now. I'll be OK here.'

'My break isn't for another two hours.'

'Well I've just moved the clock forward two hours and you're going now. Then in two hours you can go again.'

'Hang on, who's the senior here?' she said, smiling slightly.

'For once just go and look after yourself. And remember, if I had gone up there I'd be in pieces too.'

The refectory had a bright atmosphere and staff were happily chatting while eating. It was such a contrast to her own sombre mood she decided she couldn't stay, so she bought two lattes, a blueberry muffin and a Kit-Kat and then returned to Adam. He was surprised to see her back so early but accepted the Kit-Kat and latte and didn't remark on her appearance.

The city centre was bustling when she walked from the hospital to her car. People leaving work were making their way home, walking with a purpose. Late shoppers were ambling around the shops, students drinking lager at pavement cafes, mothers pushing babies in buggies. Everyone around her was doing something. How lovely to see such normality after the sad atmosphere earlier.

She decided she'd like to see her father tonight. She loved his company, but didn't want to see her mother. Hoping he'd be there and would answer the phone she rang the house. Unfortunately, Cecily answered. Not wanting to talk to her, Steph asked for Robert.

'He's out. He's always out. He uses this house like a hotel. I do all the washing and cooking and cleaning, and what do I get? I get a husband who's never here.'

During this typical monologue Steph had been rolling her eyes. It continued as she reached her car. While she unlocked it and settled into the driver's seat her mother was still rabbiting on with the catalogue of Robert's failures. Steph couldn't let it go. She knew she should terminate the call but the well-worn diatribe against her beloved father was too much to bear.

'Mum! Stop belittling Dad. He doesn't deserve it. He does all the maintenance, painting and decorating, gardening and driving you about. And you haven't worked since you married. All the holidays you've had, and the house and contents have all been provided by him. All you ever do is criticise him. Anyway, if he's not there then that's fine. Goodbye.' Before her mother could splutter a reply, Steph stabbed at the end call icon. Sitting in her car she tried to calm her anger. Also, why hadn't she thought to phone her father on his mobile? This she tried but as usual his phone was switched off. He'd never got the hang of having a phone with him at all times, and frequently forgot to charge it. She left a message and asked him to phone her.

When she returned home at six she swept up each of her children, Gemma first then Jake, cuddled them, smelled their hair and individual scents and told them she loved them. Whilst hers was a demonstrative family, cuddles being in plentiful supply, this fervent action bewildered the children, and their father. Wiping a couple of tears away she told the children to go back to their playtime and then enveloped her husband in a hug too.

'What's up, sweetheart?' asked Stuart, still holding her tight as she started to cry.

She looked up at him, eyes red again, tears coursing down her cheeks. 'It's just I'm so glad to have such beautiful, healthy children. I was at the Children's today and some of those little kids won't be going home. They will leave hospital in a small coffin.' She couldn't carry on. He continued to hold her until she finally relaxed and stopped crying.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, 'I wish I could wave a magic wand and make them all better.'

'I know sweetheart. Life's not fair. How about the four of us do something really fun together when you're next off duty on a Saturday or Sunday? Maybe the zoo or something? My foot is nearly better now, although having two clumsy children jumping on it will delay healing.'

Robert finally rang at 8.45, apologising for the lateness. He still hadn't gone home, he said. The atmosphere at home was so chilly, and he could never do anything right in his wife's eyes, so he was intending to stay at Henry's house until as late as possible before going home.

Steph empathised. She still remembered not wanting to return home from school. Even when she had her school report which was usually excellent, her mother would sniff when she read it, and never, ever praise her, and that applied to Katrina too. While Steph showed she was wounded by her mother's indifference, Katrina stopped even showing the report to her mother, and would present it to her interested father when her mother was elsewhere. In time, Steph did the same. Gemma and Jack's reports were now scrutinised with encouraging comments and congratulations where appropriate and gentle queries if grades were not as expected. Steph was determined not to replicate the stomach-churning home life she and Katrina had experienced, so good or bad, she and Stuart were interested and welcoming.

Chapter 8 – Katrina

The discomfort awoke her. The pain was around her stomach. Katrina awoke feeling something digging into her and a heavy weight pinning her down. Memory returned and turning her head, she could see the large, hirsute nightclub owner she'd enjoyed with such energy the previous night and into the early hours of the morning. His largeness, both in stature and manhood, was the reason she was pinned down now, a tree-trunk like arm over her, and his chunky gold bracelet making indentations in her skin. Thank god her modelling days were over. It was hard enough to avoid tight underwear creases that showed up in the front of the camera. How would she have explained away a short chain-like mark that would take hours to recede?

She could hear a dustcart reversing outside, warning the few people who were out and about, by its high pitched 'du du-du' noise. This must be a wheelie-bin area as the sound of plastic wheels bumping up and down kerbstones could be heard. Of all the one-night stands she'd had she had never been woken up by a dustcart before. A dust man, or was it now refuse collector, that would be a new experience. Many refuse collectors were students at the moment, making money in the holidays, but they would be too young. The thought of getting older depressed her.

She'd realised last night that she must be in a fairly smart neighbourhood by the fact that each house had a drive with a separate entrance and exit and swept up to double-fronted detached houses with double, and in some cases, triple garages. Most of the houses were hidden behind screens of trees but no common neighbour-provoking Leylandii here. She wondered if people actually spoke with their neighbours or if everyone came home and retreated into their private domains never holding more than phatic communication such as the typical British comment on the weather if they ever met their neighbours.

Jez, her be-decked hirsute pick-up of last night, had willingly responded to her seduction routine at the nightclub and after a drunken grope in the taxi, causing her to lose her panties en-route had quickly taken her upstairs, flung her on the bed and screwed her as if hadn't had sex for months. It was made all the easier without having to remove her pants; she had no idea where they were now.

The first time had been exciting although three minutes was too quick, this was not a man who could hold back and be a gentleman, waiting for his partner to orgasm first. Perhaps she should feel flattered, how many women of twenty-eight could get a man off in three minutes? Happily, the three other times had been more controlled and satisfying although the constant clanking of the gold bracelet had distracted her. His gold ingot had almost broken her front tooth, swinging violently on the thick chain around his neck so he'd reluctantly agreed to remove it.

Anyway, she reckoned they had tried all the sexual positions she'd seen in a magazine once, although they had to cede defeat with the oral handstand. This was a form of sixty-nine but with Jez kneeling upright and Katrina supporting herself upside down on a handstand. After several failed attempts they'd dissolved into giggles and Jez had allowed a short break in the proceedings for her to go to the loo while he made a coffee.

The clock radio showed it was just after nine. It was time to get up. Katrina managed to slide out from beneath the gold decorated torso. He didn't awaken so she shut the en-suite door after her. The shower was a fantastic power-shower, so invigorating it would surely make her bruises bigger, a result of the frenetic coupling. Relishing the needle-like jets of water on her skin, she decided to stay under as long as she could in an attempt to allow her skin to tighten. Not as good as the hydro spa at the holiday centre in Wales, where she'd spent a relaxing weekend, but invigorating none the less.

Drying and dressing she pondered on what to do about the panty thing. It would be damned chilly outside; Manchester in February is no joke and she had to get back home to Liverpool. Two options: go out, and get a cold fanny and hope to buy a pair of pants at the station, perhaps one of the shops at Manchester Piccadilly would sort her out, if they sold them. An alternative was snitching a pair of Jez's shorts.

She moved quietly back into the bedroom where Jez was still asleep, now on his back with his gob wide open. Geee, she now remembered why she never had a two-night stand, they always looked awful the next morning. Whoever it was that said that a man looked as gorgeous in the morning as he had the night before, but a woman somehow deteriorated overnight, hadn't seen any men with their gobs wide open snorting like hogs.

She started opening drawers slowly, the first being full of socks and pornographic magazines. The second drawer produced a positive result, her eyes alighting on a soft silk pair of boxers in bright red; they'd do nicely! She always took a memento; some trifling object but never a pair of silk drawers before. Wearing nothing except the shorts she decided to ring for a taxi. Her mobile was dead. She couldn't find his. There was a phone next to the bed but Katrina didn't want lover boy to awaken and expect more acrobatics, so she padded downstairs and tried the front room. A quick sweep of the room didn't show up a phone.

'Where the hell do they hide it?' Closer examination showed a phone in the shape of an old-fashioned receiver and stand, TACKY, in white and gold on a table next to a Chesterfield sofa. Voile drapes over the windows protected her nakedness from any visiting milkman or delivery boy. Next problem, where was she? Her drunken arrival at 2 am had given her little knowledge of where she was to stay the night.

Back upstairs to rifle through Jez's pockets and search for something like a driving licence. All she needed now was for him to awaken and think she was stealing the contents of his wallet! After all, he'd never seen her before and she'd done the chasing last night, making it clear that she wanted him, all of him.

'Thank god', she breathed, his driving licence provided her with the information she required. After ordering the taxi Katrina couldn't resist the caffeine withdrawal gripes anymore and now went in search of the kitchen. It might help her wake up while she finished dressing. She'd make one for lover boy too but hoped he didn't awaken until she'd gone, love 'em and leave 'em was her motto.

The kitchen was large, L-shaped and bright, cheerful and expensively kitted out. There was a large kitchen centre island. She was partway across the room towards the kettle when she was aware of a ground coffee aroma. The smell from four hours ago should have dissipated by now. Looking around, Katrina returned the gaze of a blonde-haired woman in her fifties sitting at a breakfast bar over by the window. Her gaze was both unwelcoming and disapproving. Katrina's recently surgically uplifted pert breasts seemed to stare right back at the other woman. The credit card bill was still being paid off.

Where the hell did she appear from, Katrina wondered. Jez didn't look the sort to be living with his mum so it must be the cleaner, but surely a char, even in this posh area, wouldn't be wearing Aquascutum? And it was too early for a cleaning service.

If it was the mum, and Katrina could see a resemblance now, a penchant for wearing lots of jewellery as well as the high cheek-bones, where had she been last night when she and Jez had stumbled in, divesting themselves of most of their clothes as they'd made their rushed journey to the bedroom? And there was the noisy banging of the bed and their groans for several hours. Surely this woman hadn't heard all the action. Katrina felt slightly sick.

Katrina had thought the house empty, hadn't considered that Jez would still live with his dear mummy! Deja vu flooded over her. This was the second time she'd been caught, last time by a wife who was supposed to be staying at her mother's house but who had apparently invented the visit to sneak back and catch out her errant husband. It was only slightly easier this time.

With a quick, 'Good morning,' Katrina backed out of the room, shut the door and bolted upstairs. Thus, this was the second time she'd dressed at top speed, not bothering to put on her bra, just stuffed it into her handbag, took one last look at mummy's boy and then left.

The taxi driver found her on the pavement in front of the hedge. He was struck by the unusual outfit, which was, in fact, red silk shorts just showing from underneath an iridescent turquoise mini shift dress. Sparkling blue sequinned shoes were the exact colour of the dress. Katrina like shoes and was happy to spend food money on Manolo Blahnick, Gucci and Jimmy Choo high heels.

Sam the driver thought, 'Another of that night club owner's floozies,' and admired the scenery in his rear-view mirror.

'Mr Kerris, I'm phoning about Mrs. Dainty. The carer went this morning and found her lying on the floor in the hall,' said Mrs Crouch.

'Is she all right?' asked Stuart.

'She's in hospital. I don't know how she is as they won't tell people who aren't relatives. She's in St. Jude's.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Crouch. I'll phone the hospital right away and let you know how she is and if she can return to her home.' Stuart ended the call, put his mobile back in his pocket and went through to the general office. Jainie was eating a jam doughnut and had red jam around her mouth. He noted the box for six doughnuts, there being only one left.

'Jainie, can you find me the number for St. Jude's Infirmary please?'

A couple of minutes later Stuart had ascertained that Vera was awake and had not broken any bones. It seemed she'd fallen over a pile of newspapers in the hall. They were keeping her in for observation, but felt she would probably be able to return home the day after tomorrow.

Stuart phoned his wife and told her the news.

'I'll phone mum,' Steph said. 'I suspect she won't care but she should have some responsibility for her own mother.'

'I think we need to do a mass clear out of the rubbish in the house while she's in hospital. It's a death trap. I'm worried that one day she's going to drop a cigarette end and the whole house will go up in flames with her in it,' said Stuart.

'Good idea. I'm off duty tomorrow so if you could spare a few hours, and I'll get Mum to join us, then we can give the house a good going over,' said Steph.

Stuart wasn't too happy with the thought that his mother-in-law would be there too. She'd be ignoring him as usual but also making snide remarks aimed at him when Steph was out of earshot. She'd never forgiven him for marrying her daughter. The last time he'd seen her was at Christmas when they had all had to go over to his in-laws on Christmas Day. There was the traditional opening of presents after lunch. Cecily made her grandchildren wait for their presents, and Stuart remembered Steph saying that her mother had allowed her and Katrina to open their stockings in the morning, but had to wait all morning, after church then through an interminably long festive dinner until around 2.30 before the gifts under the tree were unwrapped. Full of turkey and the trimmings, and plum pudding and mince pies, Stuart and Robert were conversing while Steph and Cecily cleared away. Stuart, as usual, had offered to help, and Steph had said thanks but it's OK, there wasn't much room in the kitchen. To this her mother had pointedly said, 'If your father had worked harder I could have had a bigger house with a bigger kitchen.'

Stuart had felt sorry for Robert, but then it was his turn. When Steph was in the kitchen, her mother returned for more plates and added, 'If we had a better house in a nicer area, my daughter would have attracted a more suitable husband.'

Stuart remembered that whereas Robert didn't react to his wife's complaint about the kitchen, but the barb aimed at his son-in-law clearly annoyed him. He'd looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. Stuart suspected that Robert rarely rose to anger, and certainly wouldn't have done so in front of anyone else, even his family.

'Do you think we really need your mum's help sorting out Vera's house?' he asked hopefully.

'I don't see why she can't have some responsibility for her own mother,' Steph replied.

Stuart's heart dropped to his stomach. He saw Cecily about three times a year and that was three times more than he could cope with.

'I'll phone her now then go along to the hospital to see Vera, not that she'll want me there. It's only you she wants. 'Bye sweetheart, see you tonight.'

'Bye love,' Stuart replied. He decided it might be best to either hire a mini-skip or borrow his business partner Michael's estate car. He estimated there would be a couple of boot loads of rubbish to move, some of it unsavoury. In that case he didn't want to risk dirtying his partner's car. Michael was a car fanatic, and spent a large percentage of his share of the profit from their architect's business on fast cars. He currently owned four, the estate being the work horse, used for bumping over building sites. Even then it was unlikely he'd allow rubbish in it.

'Mum, I can't believe that you won't cancel your hair appointment this evening to go and see Gran.' Steph was annoyed, as usual, with her mother's self-centred attitude. If there was nothing in it for her then she wasn't interested.

'I can visit her tomorrow. I don't see what all the fuss is about. She hasn't broken anything. We should expect her to fall over at her age.'

Steph was speechless. Later, when reflecting on the conversation with her mother, she didn't understand why she was surprised. Her mother was a self-centred, snobby bitch. Steph then thought about how it would be when her mother was as old as Vera and needed support. It would be awful. Her father would be stuck with his wife more if he couldn't leave her on her own.

'We're going to clear out Gran's house of all that rubbish. It's a death trap. We will be there at nine tomorrow morning. Wear your old clothes and after we've thrown out everything we can start cleaning.' Steph waited for her mother's response.

'What! I'm supposed to spend my day cleaning that filthy house? You are joking? It's diseased. Everything in that house is filthy. I will probably catch something disgusting. I only ever go there if I have to, and I don't sit down or touch anything when I do. Or eat or drink anything.' The amazement that anyone could suggest she lowered herself to cleaning her own mother's house was evident in her voice.

'Mum, Stuart and I can't do it on our own and she IS your mother.'

'So Stuart's going. He won't be much help. Get Katrina to help. That's if you can get her to put rubber gloves on over her immaculate nails. And yes, she's my mother but I've far too much to do. Get one of those cleaning agencies in.'

'You are so selfish. You don't work, and Stuart and I have full time jobs. If you won't help then fine, but don't expect me to come running when you're old and need help.' Steph was so annoyed she slammed the phone down and went into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. So, it was only 11.00 in the morning but her mother would send anyone to drink.

She knew Katrina wouldn't come and help. She had little to do with her mother or grandmother. She was spoilt. Both parents had been guilty of pandering to her every whim, with Steph standing by. From an early age after her sister was born, Steph had felt consigned to second place. She was an 'also ran'. but when Katrina started tantrums during puberty, her mother had simply ignored her, and commenced treating her with indifference like she did her elder daughter. Funnily enough, now that they were grown up she no longer resented her younger sister, although she was a permanent worry.

Tomorrow being Saturday, Stuart would not be at work. Steph had the day off and she didn't want to take the children to Vera's house. They would get in the way and end up whinging with boredom. Vera was Katrina's gran too so she'd ensure that Katrina did her bit by looking after her niece and nephew for the day.

Stuart spent a good part of the evening trying to persuade his wife they either didn't need Cecily there, or that he'd rather not put-upon Katrina by expecting her to look after the children. Steph remained resolute and her husband retired to bed dreading the appearance of his mother-in-law the next day.

Chapter 9 – Rubbish

'I'm taking the kettle, mugs, milk, tea bags and sugar,' Steph told her husband. They'd had a lie in until eight. After a quick breakfast, with the resultant mess from the children's breakfast looking like the aftermath of a chimps' tea party, the children awaited their Auntie Katrina. Expecting her sister to create a fuss about having the children for the day, Steph was pleasantly surprised when Katrina accepted readily and wanted to take them out for the day. Steph had offered her £40 for their entertainment but Katrina had looked offended and said she could pay for her own family herself.

Katrina, in fact, was pleased at having a role to play in her niece and nephew's lives. Jetting around the world on modelling assignments and being feted and dined, whilst being exhilarating, played havoc with long-term romantic attachments and family life. She'd missed their christenings, several birthdays and Christmases and, until recently, she'd seen them so infrequently that Gemma, being the younger, hadn't recognised her the last time she visited.

Of the two sisters Steph had the better, well-adjusted life, Katrina thought again. What had her own jet-setting career given her. So, yes, she'd seen many parts of the world and dated interesting men but she was not, and never would be a category A model. Naomi Campbell, Erin O'Connor, Kate Moss, Cara Delevingne had 'It'. She didn't. Her modelling life had left her with fallen arches and an inability to wear anything lower than three-inch heels. Even when padding around her bedroom she had to walk on tiptoe.

The professional advice she'd been given was physiotherapy every day to help reduce the pain in her arches. She'd tried it and it hurt. Her toes were permanently scrunched together, she was developing a bunion and she'd been told she may, later on in life, develop osteoarthritis in the feet and knees. Great! Had it been worth it? She'd had a real 'ball', but now with her modelling days apparently over, she wasn't capable of much else. Never mind, she'd have lots of fun with her Gemma and Jake today.

The weather was a 'no weather day' as her father said. It wasn't raining or snowing. It wasn't sunny, cold, hot or windy or even cloudy. It wasn't anything. The weather conditions were just right for Stuart and Steph to forage in Vera's pit to extract the rubbish. Wearing old clothes and her hair up and hidden by a scarf, Steph looked a bit like a hobo. Both she and Stuart wore rubber gloves.

'Let's start at the top of the house,' Stuart suggested. 'I've put black bin bags in the hall.'

'I don't expect my mother will bother to turn up but you never know.'

Secretly her husband desperately hoped Cecily would keep to type and stay away. The mini-skip looked too big. Stuart thought by the time they finished it would be only half full. Tackling the bedroom first, both were appalled at the awful smell and the quantity of rotting food, at least that's what they thought it was, that was mutating in drawers, under the bed, on the window sill and, neither could believe it, inside Vera's bedding. The sheet and duvet cover were, they thought, supposed to be lilac. The pillow case had grey streaks on it, probably because it hadn't been changed for ages. When they put the light on they realised the sheet was filthy and the duvet cover looked like a table cloth after fifty finger-feeding babies had feasted.

'This is absolutely gross,' Steph said. 'I don't understand how she hasn't come down with something horrible like gastro-enteritis or salmonella. The best thing to do is throw away all the bedding and buy more if we can't find decent spares.'

They pulled the bedding from the bed then saw the mattress. Vera wasn't incontinent, but her nightly habit of taking a mug of hot chocolate to bed had wreaked havoc with the mattress. There were brown stains all over it.

'I'm now wondering if the mini skip will be large enough. This just has to go,' said Stuart.

'She may be out of hospital the day after tomorrow. We'll have to get a new mattress before then. I'm off tomorrow so I'll see if I can get one delivered here,' said Steph.

'Do you think we should get rid of the whole double bed and move the single one from the guest room into here?' asked Stuart. 'That would give her more room to negotiate around the room.'

'Great idea Batman! No-one ever wants to stay the night so the single bed will never be used. I'll have a look at the state of it.' Steph made her way across Vera's bedroom, walking around the dirty bedding and the bin bag holding the rotting food.

Stuart felt nauseous. Escaping for home to shower wasn't an option. He had to stay and support his wife. The irony was that Vera would not be at all grateful for their efforts. That Steph was so keen to do this for her grandmother, when Vera's own daughter couldn't care less was ironic too. Vera had little time for any of her family and had almost disdain for her eldest grand-daughter. Katrina rarely bothered with her grandmother, or her mother. Robert was the nicest, friendliest and most down to earth person but Vera didn't rate him either. Stuart had a lot of respect for his father-in-law. It was a pity, Stuart thought, that Robert hadn't chosen a nicer wife.

'Yes, this is OK. Let's get the double bed and mattress down to the skip and move the single in here,' said Steph.

Stuart was glad of his rubber gloves as they manoeuvred the mattress through the door and down the stairs. The base was fairly easy as it separated into two pieces. The bedding followed. On returning to the bedroom they then saw the state of the carpet. Aside from the rubbish and stale lumps of cheese where the bed had been, the carpet was a lighter shade of dirt.

'Good grief! This is awful. It just gets worse. Is there any point us getting her a new carpet?' Steph asked her husband.

Stuart considered, 'I don't think so. She's not going to catch anything horrible from the carpet. A new one will be quickly soiled. I could nip down to the hire place and get a carpet cleaning machine. We could probably use it for all the carpets.'

'Mmm, maybe, but if she's due out the day after tomorrow I can't see us getting everything done. It wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to go to work. That's where my delightful, caring mother could help out.' Steph stared at the offending floor covering, thinking. 'I know, let's make arrangements for her to be admitted to a retirement home for a week. I'm sure that should be possible. Frankly, if we told the hospital that the house isn't ready for habitation they would probably keep her in, but that's not fair keeping a hospital bed when it isn't needed.'

'How much are we talking about?' Stuart asked.

'Do you mean for the retirement home? I would think about £500 to £800 for a week, more if it's a nursing home. It's pricey but she has money. She just won't spend it. My grandfather left her a really good pension. She's not like most pensioners who have to choose between using the central heating in winter or eating. I'll investigate when we get home.'

They carried on working, both wishing to be elsewhere. 'What's that?' asked Steph.

'What?'

'There's someone downstairs,' Steph replied.

'Yoo-hoo. Are you up there Stephanie?' Stuart's stomach produced a double flip. Cecily. Oh no. Her appearance would now make a horrible day quite appalling.

Steph went downstairs but her husband decided to remain where he was. He never thought he'd prefer working in squalor rather than be in the presence of a human being. Although, he thought, his mother in law wasn't really human. He heard an argument between the two women. Steph had asked her to start cleaning the kitchen or bathroom. Her mother replied that she had no intention of venturing further into her mother's pit and had come to reiterate that she wouldn't not be looking after Vera.

'That woman has never done anything for me so I don't feel she, or you, can expect me to have anything to do with her now she's supposedly helpless.'

His wife's reply was certainly not printable, Stuart thought. He continued to wade through the used and crumpled paper hankies, dirty coffee mugs, waxy orange cotton buds, and then he recoiled, what the hell! No! Used incontinence pads. Why were they there? Vera wasn't incontinent. The only possible reason was that she was too lazy to go down to the kitchen in the night to use her bucket. Disgusting. That was it, he decided, no more. We will bring in a cleaning agency for a whole-house assault. A team of industrial cleaners with bomb-proof stomachs.

The row below appeared to have finished. He heard the front door slam and then Steph climbing the stairs. For the next twenty minutes he let her pour out her hatred for her mother. They were both perched on the window sill and half way through her rant when Stuart suggested they went downstairs and into the garden. All down the stairs and out of the house Steph continued her diatribe. Cecily had told her that she'd no intention of assisting as she did not want to 'catch something.'

Steph ended her monologue and looked at Stuart and demanded to know if he thought she'd been swapped with another baby at the hospital when she was born. She couldn't understand how she could have such a horrible mother. This was an oft repeated lament and Stuart wished that Cecily was someone else's mother in law. Eventually Steph ran out of invective and they decided to have a hot drink.

On returning to the bedroom, Stuart pointed out the incontinence pads and was surprised to see his wife shudder. She normally took everything in her stride and had a sold constitution when it came to mess and dirt, but this clearly was too much even for her.

'Oh my goodness, I can't believe it. This is absolutely disgusting. Darling go downstairs and see what you can do down there. I think this is beyond marriage vows and you shouldn't have to deal with this.' She kissed him and pushed him towards the door. Steeling herself, she checked her gloves were still hole-free and grabbed the now heavy black bin bag. She approached the offending personal items and decided to just get on with the job. She certainly could not imagine her mother even stepping into the room let alone handling the disgusting contents.

Fifteen minutes later she moved on to the bathroom. This wasn't too bad as the family had to use it when they visited, so Steph had always kept the toilet and washbasin clean. The bath, however, was filthy. Not from having been used for its intended purpose, but was full of dead spiders, dirty towels and dirty clothes and more incontinence pads. It hadn't been like that when they had come a few weeks before. For some reason her grandmother had started throwing her dirty clothes and all manner of items that should be in the bin into the bath. Thanks goodness she didn't have a coal fire or the bath would have been full of coal.

The children, meanwhile, were having one of the best days of their lives. Their aunt, never having properly grown up herself, was having fun flying kites with them. There being little wind down on the fields, she drove them half way up a hill where there was a parking area. They had then carried on up a narrow path, through trees and emerged on the top of the hill overlooking their town. Having sufficient wind up so high they were all shrieking and trying to see whose kite went the highest. There were other kites, many of which were stunt kites which performed loop the loops and were an exciting spectrum of bright colours. Even very young children seemed to manage them adeptly. Jake was particularly taken with a large dragon kite. It was various shades of green and the teenager controlling it made it swoop up and down. He decided that was going to be his birthday present. His sister liked the dragon but preferred a very large multi-coloured bird being held by a child not much older than she. She decided that was to be her next birthday present.

Katrina had forgotten that her father used to take her and her sister there. She remembered now how they had been able to scream and make as much noise as they wanted and run around like maniacs and wouldn't be told that children should be seen and not heard and to behave like ladies, like at home.

It was one of the few times her father laughed, or even smiled. There were few occasions to smile when her mother was home.

Now her feet were aching again, encased in flat trainers. She tried to ignore the crippling pain and suggested they all went to Pizza Hut to eat. This was greeted with enthusiastic screams. Back at the car Katrina happily changed into Gucci high heels again. Driving quickly ruined the heels, but they were an old tatty pair she kept in the car for the purpose. Gemma wore her aunt's red Dior stilettos during the journey, and then insisted on continuing to do so at Pizza Hut. More than twenty shoe/boot boxes were stored in her aunt's boot, so Katrina simply changed into another smart pair. By the time her niece had reached the door of the restaurant Katrina realised her mistake; Gemma's small feet slipped in the high heels and they were terminally scuffed.

Inside, Gemma still insisted on wearing the now ruined heels, and refused to eat pizza. Thinking that one meal without any protein would not harm her niece, Katrina allowed her to head straight for the ice cream factory, but insisted she remove the shoes first. Jack asked for a pizza laden with cheese. His aunt decided he was unlikely to be at risk of high cholesterol, and was unsurprised when he quickly cleared the plate then copied his sister with an enormous ice-cream covered in every single sweet and sauce available. Gemma couldn't finish her second trip to the ice cream, and no wonder thought Katrina who didn't eat anything herself, and spent the time drinking sparkling water, her modelling days having trained her to eat little, and drink alcohol only on rare occasions. Her phone rang and she saw it was Steph.

'Hi, Steph, We're just leaving Pizza Hut.'

'Katrina, I meant to warn you about the ice cream. It's not the ice cream that's the problem, it's the fact that they always put every topping imaginable on, eat half, then moan about feeling sick,' Steph warned her sister. 'They may even BE sick in the car.'

'Oh, thanks for warning me. Maybe I'll take the car and send them home in a taxi!' Katrina teased.

'Oh, and thanks for having them,' Steph said.

'Steph, I assure you I would far rather spend time with the kids than dive into Gran's disgusting house.'

The inexperienced aunt felt her sister was being over-protective of the children but realised her mistake when Gemma was sick in the car on the way home. So, she thought, I've a pair of shoes I can never wear, and a most revolting, smelly and multicoloured stain on the rear seat.

'This skip definitely isn't big enough.' Stuart looked dismayed. The cost of a larger skip hadn't been much more, and he now wished he'd chosen a bigger one.

Steph laughed at his gloomy countenance. 'How about you take some of the bags of rubbish to the tip, then there will be room for the bed and further rubbish?' she suggested. He didn't look any less glum.

'What's up?'

' I don't want that lot in the car.'

'Oh come on Stuart,' she said, no longer smiling, 'It's all in bags, well contained. The alternative is hiring another skip which will cost a fortune and will be only a quarter full.'

He sensed his wife's irritation. They were both feeling grubby, needed some lunch and knew they couldn't go to a pub looking, and smelling, he suspected, the way they were. He knew she wasn't enjoying this any more than he.

'OK, I'll do that and pick up a McDonalds at the drive through. OK?'

Her good humour restored, Steph smiled back. 'I'd like a cheeseburger, fries, apple pie and coffee, thanks.' Her diet was conveniently forgotten.

'I'll have the same but bigger,' said Stuart. 'I feel peckish.'

'We won't want to eat in the house so I'll put some dining chairs, which are never used so are fairly clean, out into the garden and we can picnic,' said Steph.

'OK, you're on,' said Stuart.

Steph laughed then started clearing newspapers, empty egg boxes, magazines, cereal boxes and plastic milk containers from the kitchen. The stove was absolutely horrendous. It was electric, thank goodness, so Gran couldn't set anything alight, at least not easily, and was encrusted with every sort of food that Gran had ever cooked. There were actual mountains and valleys of unrecognisable food. The family never cooked anything there, the kettle and toaster being the only appliances deemed sufficiently germ free to use.

Mrs. Dawes, the longest running cleaner to date, had been cleaning the linoleum floor, seemingly by using the squeegee mop but not quite reaching the corners. Whenever Steph placed her feet near the base of the cupboards her shoes stuck to the floor. She was beginning to wonder if it was worth all this effort. They had three options: do it all themselves and be worn out and receive no thanks; pay a house cleaning, dirt busting team to do it for which Vera wouldn't thank them and they would have to pay for it and the last option was to do nothing. It wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to Vera if the house was sparkling clean or remained in its current filthy, hovel-like state. Before she'd made a decision about which course to take she heard Stuart coming back.

'You were ages. I bet you ate yours in the more hospitable McDonalds,' she teased her husband.

Coming in with the McDonalds brown paper bag, a cardboard tray of coffees and a bottle of wine her husband said, 'On the contrary, I decided we could do with some real liquid sustenance. When we've had lunch, we can carry on wallowing in the mire then relax outside with some wine.'

'I'll sterilise some wine glasses then.'

'No need, I popped into a supermarket and bought two glasses then went to the off-licence and bought a bottle of chilled wine from the fridge,' grinned Stuart. 'Just rinse the glasses under a tap.'

Moving towards her husband, she kissed him on the lips and whispered, 'You gorgeous, gorgeous man, it will make all this effort worth it.' Stuart secretly considered his mother-in-law not staying had already made his day.

Later, after they had spent all day on the house, and Stuart had taken two boot loads to the tip, they agreed it looked only slightly better. Sitting outside on dining room chairs they relaxed and watched the sun go down. Steph swirled the wine around her glass and said, 'You know, I was thinking earlier when you were out, is there any point us doing this? Whether we clean up or not, it won't make any difference to Vera. If it's clean she'll dirty it again.'

'True, but would you be able to live with your conscience if we let her return to her hovel?' Stuart asked.

'OK, I suppose you're right. Let's have a final tidy up then we can go home,' said Steph. 'Sweetheart, thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.'

Stuart had consumed only one glass of wine as he was driving, and Steph threw back the residue of wine in her glass then stood up.

'Let's get on with it then.'

The children were eating cornflakes at the breakfast bar. Katrina was sitting with the children and had a mug of black coffee in front of her when her sister and brother-in-law returned home.

'My goodness, I definitely picked the long straw today. I've had masses of fun and come home clean. You two look like you should be sleeping in a shop doorway tonight,' Katrina said.

Steph walked over to fetch three wine glasses from the cupboard. 'Thanks Katrina, I take it the little horrors didn't play up?'

'Gosh no,' Katrina said, looking lovingly at the children. 'And before you mention the cornflakes, there's no sugar on them and they had pizza for lunch, or at least Jake did. OK they've had junk food but I thought one day wouldn't matter.'

'Gemma puked up all over the back seat,' shouted tell-tale Jack.

Steph looked horrified. 'No, oh Katrina, I'm sorry.'

'It doesn't matter. I've scrubbed it and it's now slowly drying. It's the smell that's the worst.'

Stuart popped his head round the kitchen door, 'Hi Katrina, did you survive?'

Katrina laughed, 'It was great fun, and I'd love to do it again.'

'Great, see you in a bit as I just have to go for a shower. I think I'll just stay under the jets for half an hour to wash away the crud,' Stuart said. 'Also, I'm unsure whether the washing machine will be able to clean our clothes sufficiently well.'

'Don't worry Sweetheart, next time we can wear some of those disposable suits the police wear on CSI,' Steph said.

Next time, thought Stuart, there is NEVER going to be a next time.

When Stuart returned Steph took a glass of wine upstairs and decided to take a long bath in Radox. The smell was lovely and she relaxed, reflecting on a productive and cathartic day. She drifted off to sleep and was awoken a few minutes later by the children banging on the door to shout about their kite flying and demanding bigger and better stunt kites similar to the ones they saw other children and adults flying.

Well, thought Steph, peace shattered and she took a gulp of wine and completed her bathing.

Chapter 10 – Boney goes nightclubbing

Stuart and Steph were watching Michael Portillo on one of his many train journeys. Tonight, Portillo was wearing a bright pink shirt and a clashing blue jacket. Other than that, it wasn't desperately exciting viewing but both were too relaxed and sleepy to change channels, turn off the TV or go to bed. The children had gone to bed late, after many threats from both parents. They had been unusually active and noisy after returning from s school visit to a theme park and were overtired but anxious to tell their parents the rides they had been on and who did what where. Their mother had almost dozed off when her mobile burst into Fur Elise. She decided not to answer it then saw Mel's name on the screen.

'Hi Steph, have you seen tonight's Sentinel?'

'No, what's in it?'

'Boney is on the third page. He's been photographed in a night club. You must get a copy,' said Mel.

'No! Really? Ruth will be SO mad.' Steph put the call onto loudspeaker so that Stuart could hear.

'She sure will. He's in a photo and he's wearing a sweat shirt and jeans and a blue cap. Then to make it more interesting he has a roll your own cigarette in his mouth. It's a scream,' laughed Mel.

'What does the article say?'

'It says the photo was emailed anonymously, and the email said his name is Boney and he lives in the radiography department of the hospital but needs a night out occasionally. It's really going to set Ruth on the warpath.'

'Oh dear, and I'm on shift at nine in the morning. I bet I will be blamed. If Ruth can pin it on anyone it will be me for not having prevented Boney being nabbed,' moaned Steph.

'I won't be in for three days so let me know how the Rottweiler reacts. Good luck!'

Steph sighed, tucked her phone into her pocket then leaned back. Tomorrow was not going to be fun if Ruth was in.

'Shall I pop out and buy a copy of the paper?' Stuart asked.

'Good grief no, but thanks,' said Steph. 'You are as tired as I am. There will be photocopies of the article plastered onto the canteen notice board. I will take one and bring it home. Yes, Mel is right, Ruth will be on excellent form tomorrow. I do so detest that woman. Let's go to bed. I need to have all my wits about me in the morning.'

The next morning Steph had a problem parking in the hospital car park despite arriving over half an hour early for work. After driving around the whole car park she squeezed her car into a space between two cars, both of which were parked almost on the line her sides. She extracted herself by breathing in and oozed out through the narrow gap of the door. She hoped the person whose driver's door was on her off side wasn't fatter than she. A dent or scratch on her car would be irritating when the reason for so little space was their poor parking.

The staff car park had some designated parking spaces for hospital senior management and all the consultants, but not doctors and other medical staff and all other parking was on a first-come-first-served basis. There was a dearth of parking spaces and anyone unlucky enough not to grab a free space had to drive to one of the public car parks and pay £14 a day which added up to £56 to £70 a week; a huge chunk out of administrative staff pay and for anyone below doctor level. This resulted in drivers blocking other cars in, then the aggravation of returning to the car and a hunt for the owner. Most of the senior management worked mainly between 8.30 am to 6 pm so if she had to start work at nine in the morning there were often few spaces left. Arriving at 5 pm usually resulted in some spaces being available or she could sit in the car waiting for a few minutes and a member of management or office staff would appear to collect their car and drive home.

Some of the doctors used the same spaces and came to regard them as 'their' designated parking space, even though this was against hospital policy. These were usually the ones a matter of a few yards from the staff entrance. Steph couldn't care less which space she used as long as she wasn't blocked in when she tried to leave for home.

Today, instead of buying a coffee at the coffee cart she decided to see what Boney had been up to, so went up to the staff canteen. As she predicted, several photocopies of Boney's media article were pinned to the notice board in the staff canteen. She removed one and started reading the article while she stood in line for a coffee. She could hear other staff talking about Boney's exploits, and was amused to hear some male medical students protest that it was nothing to do with them. In all likelihood they were telling the truth as only a handful of medical students were likely culprits and some of the more serious students would not want to be tarnished with the same brush.

When she arrived at Imagining, she saw half the seats in the waiting area were occupied by patients clutching their referral forms. One young boy about six years old looked rather sad. He was lying on his father's lap and holding his right arm. His face was tear-stained. If he'd broken his arm Steph wondered how he could have done so this early in the morning. At that moment Jas appeared.

'Am I relieving you?' Steph asked her friend.

'Yes, thank goodness. It's been a long night. I was only in bed ten minutes when I was paged to return down here. For some reason most of the night-clubbers decided to spend all night falling over and breaking bits of their bodies or others having serious accidents on the motorway. Adam is still working in the other room. He never reached bed at all. I'm just about to call the little chap over there.' She nodded her head towards the young boy Steph had noticed.

'You go, I will do him. Get home to bed,' Steph told Jas.

'But it's not nine yet.'

'It doesn't matter, go now. Mel will be here any minute.' Jas gave her a grateful look and went to retrieve her coat and bag from her locker. She'd reached the corridor when Ruth accosted her.

'And where do you think you are going?' demanded the superintendent.

'I've just finished my shift,' said Jas. 'I've been on twenty-four hours and not been to bed yet.'

'I don't care how long you've been working; it is only six minutes to nine and your shift does not finish until bang on nine o'clock. You agency workers think you can waltz off when you feel like it. How dare you leave your post while there are patients to X-ray.' Ruth was shouting, and Steph's heart sank when heard and she that realised Jas had been caught. It was her fault for telling Jas to go. She deliberated which she should do – X-ray the boy with what looked like a broken arm, or leave him in pain and go to defend her friend and attempt to deflect the aggressive and unreasonable superintendent's attention away from Jas. Before she could decide Mel appeared.

'What's going on out there?' she asked. 'Old Misery Boots is laying into Jas.'

'I'll tell you later, can you take this young boy as I must intervene.' This was thrown over Steph's shoulder as she was already dashing into the corridor.

What followed was a loud and lengthy debate between the steaming manager and the two unremorseful radiographers. Whilst Jas was agency staff, all the NHS and hospital rules and regulations had to be followed, so Ruth was correct to explain that Jas should not have left her shift for another six minutes.

Steph, however, could not make the woman understand how unreasonable she was being, and that she'd told Jas to leave a few minutes early as she'd been on for twenty-four hours without sleep. This fell on deaf ears and Steph was further enraged when Ruth told Jas she was going to contact the agency and have half an hour of her pay stopped.

'Ruth, you can do what you like,' Jas said. 'You are short of radiographers and those who take maternity leave ensure they gain jobs in other hospital trusts so they don't have to return here. You don't seem to notice that few newly qualified radiographers stay more than a year, and the only two full time radiographers who have been here more than two years are Steph and Mel. For some reason everyone leaves. And how often do you manage to obtain agency staff for twenty-four-hour shifts? I'm one of the few to agree to do them. Now could that be down to your management style, which is bullying and shouting and having no sympathy for any of your staff? Don't bother to shout over me now. I have absolutely no qualms about quitting. There are plenty of other hospitals.'

Ruth was speechless. With a 'thank you' to Steph Jas walked away, head held high leaving a still open-mouthed Ruth. Just as Steph was going to retreat to Imaging the superintendent came out of her trance, grabbed Steph's wrist tightly and hissed, 'This is all your fault. I will ensure you pay for this.'

Steph's day was destined to become worse. After one of the most hectic mornings ever, dealing with over thirty patients before 11 o'clock, Steph received a phone call from one of the receptionists. It appeared a complaint had been made that Steph had parked in someone's space. Steph assured the receptionist that she always ensured she didn't park in management or consultant spaces and that she definitely had not done so that morning.

'It's Dr. Felicity Godber-Forsketh, she said she's been parking there two weeks and you mustn't park there,' said the receptionist.'

'Oh for goodness sake! She doesn't have her own space and I will park where I can as long as it isn't in spaces specifically designated for other medical staff.' Steph determined to park there as often as she could.

Chapter 11 – Robert's revelations

Robert, a solid, dependable husband, was a plodder, and, in his wife's opinion, hadn't risen high enough in the insurance business for his ambitious wife. She regarded him as an open book, thinking she knew everything about him. In fact, as well as his secret attendance at Stephanie's wedding, he'd many other hidden secrets, not least of which were his many short-term affairs.

He had started out his working life with the insurance company as a collector of premiums from people directly from home, calling monthly. Alongside the home visits he sold policies and would take claimants their cheques when those policies matured. He'd built up a regular group of customers and had enjoyed the work and meeting people. He realised that he might make more money if he worked in head office but didn't want to sit behind a desk 'pen-pushing'. Vera had different ideas.

'You've been doing the same job now for eight years, going from door to door, wearing yourself out. Mavis's husband is in insurance and he was promoted from doing the same work as you and now earns enough money for them to have a holiday every year. They've just bought a three-bedroom caravan for holidays and she's had the hall done with some lovely wallpaper. Why can't you get a better position?'

'I'm happy where I am and the plum jobs are snapped up quickly,' he said defensively.

'But we aren't as well off as some of our friends and neighbours. Why can't you be more ambitious like Mavis's husband? I need new bed linen and the girls need clothing and feeding let alone the fact that our holidays are always at the seaside. It's normal to go abroad now for holidays, to Portugal and Majorca. And Dorothy's husband is putting in one of those fitted kitchens for her. Why can't we have one? You should think of us and not be so selfish,' she demanded.

Visions of Cecily in a swimming costume swam in front of his eyes. She'd look like a beached whale! but he hated the nagging and also didn't look forward to coming home every night.

'All right,' Robert said wearily, 'I'll have a word with my boss when I see him next week and tell him that if there are any openings in higher paid positions I'm interested, OK?'

In fact, over the next two years several positions that would have been 'suitable', if Cecily had known of them, were advertised internally. Robert was aware of them but preferred the external role he'd held and enjoyed for so long. Each time his wife asked whether anything had come up yet he'd say, 'No, nothing,' or 'Yes, there was something last week but old Simkiss got it, he's been with the company fifteen years so it was really his turn.'

Cecily's obvious disappointment made Robert feel a heel but he didn't see why he should give up a cushy job just for her. The girls, he felt, didn't suffer in any way from a lack of money. There was more than enough money coming in to provide all necessities and some luxuries. It was just his wife being greedy. If she got off her fat ass and secured even a part time job she'd have had more money to spend.

Her demands became more frequent, nagging about new carpets and holidays. Robert felt he couldn't take much more but now had a new incentive to stay on his collection round. There have always been jokes about milkmen and insurance men staying too long in the house of merry blonde housewives while their husbands at work. Over the years Robert, tall and not unattractive with sandy coloured hair had experienced his fair share of invitations from randy young and not so young housewives and widows.

In the early days he'd accepted just the odd cup of tea and been occasionally embarrassed to find his hostess seemingly unaware that her skirt had ridden up to show stocking tops or that some of them, knowing he was due to arrive around 10.30 am were still in diaphanous negligee, many without any panties at all.

Years later he realised that this type of scenario must have been from where the scriptwriters of Sharon Stone's leg uncrossing scene in the film Basic Instinct obtained the idea. After the initial reactions of quickly grabbing premiums and bolting out of the houses, Robert started to enjoy the attention.

Eventually, after his wife had withheld sexual favours for three years he succumbed to a woman about eleven years his senior whose husband was in prison. The lack of conjugal visits over the six months her husband had been away turned this plain, plump and normally restrained woman into a virtual sex addict. Suzy had made various passes at Robert which he'd pretended not to notice. One morning at 11.00 he arrived after another nagging session by Cecily, feeling resentful that she was trying to manipulate him. He thought of Suzy and her shoulder length brown hair. She was plump, and beautifully curvy and he knew she was panting for it.

At thirty-three he was as susceptible as the next man to sex offered on a plate so this time he decided that if it was on the plate he would consume it. True to form, she opened the door in a pink baby-doll nightie, the sort prevalent in the 1970s. She was one of the clients always still in her nightclothes whenever he arrived, even in the afternoon. He passed by her in the narrow hall, her breasts brushing his arm as he went towards the lounge.

She sat in the low armchair opposite while he took a place on the settee and recorded her premium and entered the details into her book. This was the first indication to her that the format had changed. For safety he'd always previously sat in the armchair.

'There you are, that's it for this month,' and handed her back the book.

'Would you like a cup of tea or something a little more potent?' she simpered at him. This was when he'd always say, 'Oh, just the tea I think.'

To her surprise and obvious pleasure, he said, 'What other than tea is on offer?'

'Oh, well, anything you like, absolutely anything you like Mr. Naylor. Shall I sit next to you while we talk about it?'

Robert knew he hadn't been a 'good' husband, but he'd been a great father. The girls had everything they needed and hadn't needed a new fitted kitchen. The only way he'd managed to survive his long, loveless marriage was to find comfort in other women's arms.

Now, he'd had enough. He hated going home. Being retired meant he didn't have a legitimate excuse to leave the house five days a week. He and Cecily no longer shared a bedroom, so if he went out to the local and chatted with his friends until pub closing time, he could sneak in and go to bed without waking up his wife.

He wanted 'out'. He couldn't stand to think he could live for another thirty plus years with a woman who regarded him no better than the mud on the bottom of her shoes. The future, wherever he was, was definitely going to be more appealing than not doing anything and staying so dreadfully unhappy.

His elder daughter was enjoying a day off. Straight after dropping the children at school she drove to see Vera in hospital. As usual, even 'though she didn't have any alternative visitors, her grandmother greeted her with, 'Oh, it's you. Where's Stuart?'

The grapes and flowers she brought were also not really welcome.

'I don't like green grapes, couldn't you have brought purple ones? And those flowers. Why did you bring lilies? I'm not dead yet, you know.'

Steph accepted the criticism because arguing would serve no purpose. She suddenly realised that maybe the reason Cecily was so horrid was due to her mother. Cecily had carped as far back as Steph could remember, which was when she was about four or five. If Vera had been Cecily's role model then it was no wonder Cecily was so obnoxious. Maybe Steph and Katrina hadn't turned out as Cecily's clones because of the love Robert had given the two girls. For a fleeting few seconds Steph found herself feeling sorry for Cecily, but it was extremely short lived.

A rare pampering session at the hairdressers, followed by a facial and her nails done had been relaxing straight after the hospital. By 2 o'clock she felt a little guilty about having indulged herself, so decided to make a chocolate cake to an old recipe of Delia's which Stuart loved, and oatmeal and raisin cookies the children would enjoy. They would have preferred biscuits with icing but Steph tried to limit their sugar intake where possible. She'd just taken a mouthful of one of the cookies when the phone rang. Putting the mug of coffee on the coffee table she swallowed and picked up the phone. It was Mel.

'Hi, had a good day?' asked Mel.

'Oh yes, have a new hair-do and a bit of pampering. Then some baking. How was it today? Any traumas?'

She heard Mel laughing, 'Definitely a trauma. Ruth kicked off again.'

'What was it this time?'

'Boney was implicated in causing an elderly patient to faint.'

'How? Don't say some med students have been playing jokes again?' asked Steph.

'Too right. Boney was dressed in a raincoat, trousers and boots, and had a scarf hiding his bony neck and a hat with a brim. Oh, and dark glasses.'

'So, where was he?'

'He was sitting on one of the chairs in our X-ray department, minding his own business, when a very elderly and short-sighted lady came in. I was the only one on duty and I didn't see who it was who carried out the deed. Unfortunately, the woman tried to engage Boney in conversation.'

'I presume he was mute?' Steph asked, laughing.

'He was all three wise monkeys - deaf, dumb and blind. The woman, it seems, became concerned that he might be really ill and peered into his dark glasses. That's when she realised he had no skin on his face. She screamed. I left my patient and found the woman on the floor, just starting to come around, blathering on about a dead man. It was only after a couple of minutes I had a look at the other patient and recognised Boney,' Mel said, humour in her voice.

Steph was laughing too. 'So how does the Rottweiler come into it?'

'It just so happened that while I was helping the woman up from the floor Ruth wandered in looking for an excuse to criticise. And here was a perfect example of something she could point at and make a huge fuss over.'

'Which she did,' said Steph.

'She exploded. Of course, it's all my fault. I'm to appear in her office tomorrow to explain how it happened. I don't have the foggiest idea who it was. I don't think it was radiography students as none were on today.'

'So medical students?'

'I'm fairly sure. And while Ruth was shouting at me, and I was comforting the elderly lady, I'm sure I heard scuffling and tittering from the corridor. Then the worst bit is that when I went out to return Boney to the staff room, he'd gone again! That's my fault too of course. Anyway, enjoy the rest of the day. I'll let you know if I survive Ruth.'

Ruth's reputation for crafting mountains out of molehills, and her frequent unwarranted explosions of temper meant not only students were frightened of her. Some of the more timid administrative staff and radiographers were cowed by her eruptions, but Steph and some colleagues, whilst accepting the superintendent had authority and made decisions about their annual leave, training and shifts, regarded her as a cowardly bully. She picked on only those employees who were in awe of her powers. Rarely did Ruth cross Steph. When she did the radiographer gave as good as she got. She couldn't understand why management didn't take Ruth to task about her bullying style of people management. They seemed to turn a blind eye when informal complaints were made. Unfortunately, to date, no-one was prepared to struggle through the complaints' process. Steph suspected the people Ruth unfairly berated were not confident they could cope with the pressure and intimidation from the superintendent while the allegations were proceeding.

At 4 o'clock Steph collected the children from their after-school club. It was absolutely pouring down and they ran towards the car, the children jumping in puddles and shrieking. Jake seemed to have brought in a field full of mud on his shoes. Steph suspected he'd been running around on the school field while he was waiting. His hair was plastered to his head, despite having a hood on his coat. Gemma was only a little wet, and must have been sheltering.

In the car they were noisy but Steph knew their energy levels would suddenly drop until they had their evening meal. Stuart was going to be late tonight as he had a meeting with some clients on site, so Steph gave the children fish fingers, potato waffles and baked beans followed by a small piece of chocolate cake. Perhaps not particularly healthy food but the odd treat wouldn't hurt. They could have the cookies she'd made after they had done their homework.

The rain hadn't let up when Stuart returned home. He blessed the automatic garage door opener, as he drove in and parked the car. He entered the house through the door into the hall. He loved returning home. Some of his friends said they never knew what mood their wives would be in when they returned home. Michael, his business partner, said Jemima could change her mood in a nanosecond. She might be all smiles the moment he came home but then some little thing, such as him forgetting to wipe his feet on the doormat for the thirty seconds she demanded, would send her off into a rage that probably wouldn't abate until the next evening, if he was lucky and her vile mood didn't continue for days.

Stuart knew there was always a warm welcome for him if Steph was home first. He did the same for her when she came home after him. Whenever he was home first, particularly if the children weren't with him, he found the house too quiet, so the radio or TV was turned on, to provide some form of company. He knew Steph did the same when she was alone.

Tonight, when he came through from the garage into the hall he could smell something meaty cooking and could see her legs on the black leather footstool, crossed at the ankles and devoid of tights and slippers. Lovely shapely legs, he thought. As he entered the living room she saw his reflection in the blank TV screen, and turned to give him a beautiful smile.

'Hi gorgeous,' he said. 'New hair-do? Looks great.'

'Glad you noticed. How's your day been?' she asked.

'Long and tiring. The clients were tiring me I mean.'

'Have you eaten?'

'I grabbed a sandwich and coffee from Subway for a late lunch. Nothing since.'

'Well I hope you are hungry enough for home-made steak and mushroom pie?'

'So that's what the lovely smell is. Thanks sweetheart.' He bent to kiss her. 'Where are the terrors?'

'In their respective rooms. They ate a huge tea, did their homework then had a biscuit and some of your chocolate cake, and are now doing whatever young children do before bed time.'

Stuart picked up on the 'chocolate cake.' 'Would that be a supermarket chocolate cake or Delia's chocolate cake?' he asked.

Laughing, she rose from the settee, kissed him, and said 'How about you have a slice after dinner and you tell me which it is?'

A lovely lazy evening followed. Both parents bathed the children, read stories to them then settled them into bed.

Sitting on the settee together once the children had dropped off to sleep, Steph told Stuart about her visit to Vera. He laughed at the ingratitude.

'You can laugh,' she said. 'It's your turn next and I bet if you had taken green grapes and lilies she'd have extolled your virtues for supplying her with exactly what she likes!'

Stuart shrugged and said, 'Well, you've either got it or you haven't.'

He dodged the cushions coming his way then wrestled the last one away from her.

'OK, OK, I give in, I can't help being perfect,' he said. 'I'll go tomorrow sometime unless I'm lucky enough to be hit by a bus or abducted by aliens.'

'Good, now let's watch that DVD the children gave you for your birthday. Jake expressed sorrow yesterday when he saw it was still in its plastic wrapping. I told him that you were so keen to see it you wanted to wait until I could watch it with you. Poor lad. It's been four months since your birthday. Perhaps next year we pretend we've used the presents even if we haven't. The problem is that now we have Netflicks we're never short of something to watch.'

An hour and a half later Steph turned off the DVD player and TV. Stuart had fallen asleep after an hour, and Steph carried on watching so she could tell him the ending. He could then answer Jake's questions about the film. She shook him awake to go upstairs and get ready for bed. Twenty minutes later she joined him. He was asleep again. Cuddling his back, she dropped off soon after.

Chapter 12 – Bananas are not the only fruit

We have a right funny one coming up,' Mel said, replacing the receiver. It was almost midnight, the time when all sorts of funny things happened. 'Guess what?' she challenged Steph.

'Oh God, I don't know,' Steph replied.

'I'll give you a clue = man who likes fruit.'

'Ah!! Has he sat on a fruit bowl with his trousers off and an apple "just happened" to pop up his anus?'

'Not bad!' her friend said. 'He seems to have managed to shove a peeled banana the wrong end. I expect he was supposed to swallow it but got confused.'

'Maybe he thought it was a suppository' hooted Steph.

'Anyway, he'll be up here soon,' said Mel. 'The nurse from A&E was laughing on the phone when she rang it through.'

'I bet she was,' said Steph.

The man was accompanied by his girlfriend. Damian had the problem with fruit. It seemed that Sharon had been the one who had peeled the banana and inserted it. Both looked very embarrassed. Steph decided not to embarrass them further by asking how it had happened. That would be cruel and unnecessary as it made no difference to the situation.

Damian lay down on the X-ray table while his girlfriend stayed outside. Just having to explain what happened and why they had turned up at A&E would have been awful, with sidelong glances between medical staff, plus, no doubt some sniggering. Also, the protective screens separating administrative staff and patients meant that the couple would have had to almost shout to be heard.

This wasn't the worst she'd experienced. A couple of years ago she'd X-rayed a man who had 'accidently sat on a light bulb while I was changing it.' Pull the other one she thought at the time.

What many people didn't know is that whilst the rectum is used to expelling faeces, objects being inserted, 'going the wrong way', would cause the rectum muscles, which are very powerful, to contract. So, if an object, such as a light bulb, is inserted, the rectum involuntarily contracts, pulling the light bulb in. It can happen in an instant.

In the case of the light bulb man, his friend had inserted it, glass first, and been shocked when the whole thing was sucked in. It had been smeared with KY Jelly. In trying to extract it he'd hurt his friend. They were worried sick the glass of the light bulb would shatter, which it may well have while they were attempting to extract it. So, his friend had taken him to hospital, with the poor chap trying to stand up on the back of the moped as they thought sitting down would cause the glass to break.

A few minutes later Steph had the images she needed and told Damian to put on his clothes and return to the waiting area.

'Will the doctor be able to remove it easily?' Damian asked. His face and demeanour showed a gamut of emotions: embarrassment, fear, and looked like a little boy expecting to be remonstrated with by a parent.

Steph felt sorry for him again. Ensuring that she was smiling slightly, to put the lad at ease, but not going so far to seem to be laughing at him, she said, 'I'm sure the doctor will explain everything to you. Return to your friend and then go back to A&E. A doctor will be able to see the X-rays soon. How long you wait will depend on how busy it is down there.'

Steph wanted to tell him that there was nothing to worry about. She could see that the banana had broken up into three pieces, and unlike manmade objects, such as the light bulb, it wouldn't be difficult to remove it. It may even just be expelled normally. but hospital policy, in fact the protocol that radiographers had to adhere to, was to say nothing about what could be seen on the images, and not to suggest any treatment.

The couple left, passing a new patient who had recently arrived. Mel told Steph she'd take this one. He was a pale, elderly man, perhaps in his late seventies or early eighties and was a GP referral who hadn't turned up at his 11.25 am appointment that morning. He handed Mel his referral form. She looked at it and realised he was almost exactly twelve hours late.

Mr Loyden, you were supposed to come here this morning. At 11.25.' She looked at him quizzically. A large number of elderly patients were either deaf or had dementia. Until she started up a conversation with him she wouldn't know how compos mentis he may be. However, he seemed bright and had a lovely smile, or at least what she could see of his mouth hidden in a huge grey beard that was orange around the mouth.

'Ay, I know the appointment was this morning but I don't get up until three in the afternoons. When the doctor told me I had to come here in the morning I told him I'm asleep then. So, I've come now.' He smiled at her again. Mel couldn't decide if he really was 'all there' after all. She could turn him away and tell him to make another appointment. They only did GP referrals in the mornings. but it was quiet tonight, so far, and it would be very 'Jobs worth' to send the old chap away.

'OK then. Let's see what I need to X-ray you for. I'll be as quick as I can so you can get home to bed.'

'That's all right nurse, I won't go to bed until six o'clock tomorrow morning. After my X-ray I'll take myself off to the all-night Tesco's and do my shopping and then go to McDonald's for a chocolate milkshake and an apple pie. I love their apple pies.' He gave her the winning smile again. Mel was taken aback. The chap seemed to lead a nocturnal existence. She wondered if he got enough sun. He was rather pale and she thought he might end up, particularly in winter when it got dark at 4.30 pm, with a deficiency of Vitamin D.

The chest X-rays completed, the old chap happily went on his way, humming to himself. Takes all sorts, Mel thought then heard arguing from the waiting area. She went out to see what was going on and saw Steph had reached there first.

A couple were arguing. It was escalating by the sound of it. The two arguing were standing face to face, inches apart. The man was above average height, maybe 6'1". He looked to be in his forties. The woman was the same height, achieved by four-inch high heels. She had badly bleached blonde hair, roots showing brown and grey. The couple were nose to nose.

'I damn well will come in to see that X-ray.' The woman was almost screaming.

'No you bloody won't,' the man replied.

Steph intervened. 'Excuse me, please keep the noise down and stop swearing. Which of you has come for an X-ray?' They both turned to her.

'I don't want an X-ray,' the man said.

'You will fucking have one,' said the woman. There was something decidedly odd here, Steph thought. Mel stood back, watching the proceedings.

'Where is your referral form?' she asked the man.

'I don't fucking have one, do I?'

'You need to produce a referral form from either your doctor or Accident and Emergency before we can take any X-rays and will you both please stop swearing.'

'I'm not fucking swearing and I don't bloody have one,' he repeated.

'Then why are you here?' Steph asked them.

'He's here because he's swallowed a photo of his whore and I want to see it,' shouted the woman.

'And you are?...' prompted Steph.

'I'm his wife! He's been having it off with someone cow at work and I want to see the photo. When I know who she is I'll get the fucking slag sacked and scratch out her eyes. I found it in his wallet and when I accosted him he popped it in his bloody great gob and chewed and swallowed it.'

Steph regarded the two of them. The woman's face was bright red, presumably with anger. This was one of the odder cases she'd experienced, but, unfortunately, not one of the less common instances of profanities.

'So,' she said, facing the woman. 'You want to see the X-ray so you can look at the photo of a woman?'

'Yes I fucking well do, didn't I just say that? Are you deaf or summat?'

'I'm pleased to say I'm neither, and you are extremely coarse, but I must inform you that the X-ray won't show the details on the photo. All it may show is the shape of the edges of the photo. You won't be able to see anything else.'

The man was smirking and the woman didn't appear to be satisfied. She started arguing with Steph. Mel came over to support her friend. Before Mel could speak the woman turned to her.

'Are you the head nurse? I want an X-ray of the woman on the photo my wanker of a husband swallowed. This fucking nurse says she can't do it!' This last sentence was accompanied by a dismissive jerk of the head in Steph's direction.

Mel gave Steph a sympathetic look then said to the woman, 'Again, stop swearing and we are not fucking nurses, thank you. My colleague, who like me is a radiographer, not a nurse, is correct in explaining that an X-ray will not show you an image on a photo.'

'You two bloody cows are saying this because you fancy him. Well you are welcome to him. I fucking demand to see that photo!!'

Steph and Mel audibly sighed. The glance that passed between them said, 'How are some of these people so stupid, yet are managing to walk and talk and feed themselves and probably have the vote.'

'I can assure you,' said Mel, 'We have absolutely gorgeous husbands and have no need to pinch someone else's. I repeat, even if the photo was in a solid silver photo frame, no image, I mean X-ray, will show us what or who is on the photo.'

'Well how am I going to fucking get to see it then?' demanded the woman.

Mel didn't answer the question but turned to the still grinning man and said, 'You may wish to see a doctor down in Accident and Emergency in case the photo causes an obstruction and may need an operation to remove it.'

The man paled. 'Won't it just pass through into the fucking bog?' he said.

Mel and Steph exchanged another glance. This couple were well-suited.

'Better to be safe than sorry,' said Steph. 'So, you might want to go straight down there now.'

The couple recommenced their argument. Steph guided them out of the door. She and Mel could still hear them as they continued down the corridor.

'Blimey,' said Mel, 'there aren't half some weird people around.'

'Too right, I think we've had them all tonight. Time for a break for you,' Steph said.

It was Steph's turn to go to bed in an on-call room at midnight. It was just past midnight now but Mel would be on her own until 3 am so Steph thought it only fair her colleague had a break now. They were one radiographer down again and no-one had been able to come in to cover. At 3 a.m. as long as there were no patients, Mel would be able to go to bed and Steph would tell the night service who paged on-call staff not to page Mel but to call her first if anyone came in after three. If she was awoken before six she'd feel like hell, but that was the way it went.

Unfortunately, it was quite possible that someone on the wards would send a patient down in the middle of the night for an X-ray. The radiographers could rarely understand why in-patients were sent down during the night when they were on the wards all day. OK, some people took a turn for the worse and an X-ray was urgent, but some of the patients could have been seen earlier or the next day. The patients were often disorientated, being awoken at 2 am plonked into a wheelchair, then whisked along to X-ray. but it was accepted that most arrivals at A&E were understandably urgent.

While Mel was away Steph cleaned equipment and when Mel had returned to relieve her was pleased to collect a pager and retreat to the on-call room where she cleaned her teeth, threw water on her face then collapsed on to the lumpy mattress.

The on-call room had a musty smell, on top of which Steph could smell a hint of fish. Opening the drawers of the bedside cabinet she found a putrid green and brown fish paste sandwich. Yuk! She wrapped it up in green paper hand towels and put it into the bin. No-one was supposed to eat in the on-call rooms, but it was a rule that was not possible to police. Also, night shifts meant that meals were taken at odd times, and if someone wanted soup, fish and chips, pizza or a sandwich at 4 am then they could buy the food from the all night canteen, and eat it secretly in their room. The one certainty all the radiographers had was that Ruth never worked past nine at night, so they knew they were safe to take some small rebellious liberties.

The cleaners who serviced the on-call rooms knew the no-eating rule, but never told of the food wrappers, and were rewarded with small gifts at Christmas.

Despite being tired she knew she wouldn't sleep yet. Vera was due home tomorrow. The house was ship-shape but she knew that her grandmother would soon turn it back to a hovel. For once, Katrina was stepping in to help. She'd agreed to fetch Vera from the hospital and take her home, then buy some fresh essentials such as milk and bread, and a microwave meal. The home help would start again the next day. Vera's own daughter was far too busy to fetch her mother. It's not as if she works, thought Steph.

Steph and Stuart had discussed how long Vera could be left in her own home. Both felt that she needed more help, particularly bathing. They had agreed that during the next fortnight they would investigate some residential homes for Vera. She wouldn't like it but they thought she might enjoy having other people to talk to and would certainly eat better and be bathed daily.

Her eyes now drooping, Steph rolled over and checked her phone before going to sleep. She was pleased to see a text from Jas. It appeared that Ruth the Rottweiler had, perhaps for the first time ever, backed down and contacted the agency for Jas to return. Steph assumed there just hadn't been anyone else. She sent a swift 'Wonders will never cease and welcome back' then settled to a deep sleep. The pager rudely awoke her what seemed like mere minutes later, but glancing at her watch she realised it was 5.40. Noting she'd forgotten to charge her mobile phone which showed only four percent battery, she rang the night service and asked what had happened, slipping into her hospital baggy trousers at the same time.

'Two druggies went berserk in A&E when they wouldn't give them methadone without a prescription. One had a knife and the other a machete. They stabbed two doctors, three nurses and two security guards before they were over-powered. Your colleague has started X-raying our injured staff, and another is on his way over from the General Hospital but you are needed too as a doctor in A&E says some of the staff are so badly wounded they need emergency operations so you will be needed in theatre.'

During the explanation Steph was dressing one-handed and exploded out of the door as soon as the call ended. There was nothing like an emergency to awaken her from a deep sleep. By the time Mel and Steph were relieved by the next shift at 9.00 am they were both exhausted. Due to the skill of the medical teams at three hospitals, some who had been called from their warm beds at home, all the injured were out of danger, although it looked like one of the poor nurses would never work again, her injuries were so severe. Steph knew her to be a dedicated, friendly and uplifting nurse, and was horrified that she had suffered such dreadful injuries. Both radiographers left work in silence, with heavy hearts.

Chapter 13– Stag and hen parties

Stuart closed the door of the microwave oven and shouted for the children to wash their hands and come to the table for dinner. He spooned out some lasagne from the plastic trays and added a portion of microwave chips. Heedful that Steph would ask what they had eaten, when she returned from work tomorrow morning, he also selected some rather limp lettuce leaves, and put them next to the hot food. He very much doubted the kids would eat the salad but he could honestly say that he'd provided his children with some of the required five-a-day.

Steph was on a twenty-four hour-shift so wouldn't be home until around ten in the morning. He had put the lasagne packaging out into the wheelie bin so she wouldn't know they'd had lasagne. She tried to keep all of them on a medium fat diet. Lasagne was banned but Stuart and the kids loved it.

Tumbling down the stairs from the bathroom, they scrambled onto their chairs and dived into the food. He noticed that Gemma daintily moved her lettuce aside with her fork whereas Jake said, 'Yuk,' and threw his lettuce onto the table. Their father knew there was no point in trying to make them eat it.

As a salve to his conscience, he removed an apple crumble from the freezer and started to defrost it in the microwave. He should have done it sooner, so the children could start their homework, and then eat the crumble with custard later.

'What's for pud, Dad?' Jake asked, his mouth full of chips.

'Apple crumble and custard.'

'Cool,' was the reply.

'Can we have it with pink blancmange?' His daughter asked.

'Super cool!' shouted Jake. Taking it that they were in agreement, Stuart found a box of three packets of blancmange.

'We have strawberry, vanilla or chocolate,' he told them. Jake had already finished his dinner whereas Gemma was only half way through hers.

'Chocolate, I want chocolate with my crumble,' said Jake.

'I'm not so sure that chocolate blancmange will go so well with apple crumble,' his dad replied.

'Yes, it does,' said Gemma. 'It will make it better.'

'OK,' said Stuart, but if you don't eat it I will be in trouble with Mum.'

'You're always in trouble with Mum,' Jake said.

I know, Sport,' said Stuart. 'It's usually because I've plans of buildings everywhere.'

'I get into trouble for not putting my dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and leaving the toilet seat up,' said Jake.

'I get into trouble for leaving my clothes all over the bedroom floor,' his sister said, rolling her eyes.

'Dad, why does Mum have so many rules?'

'I don't know Jake, she's just made that way.'

'I know why she hates the toilet seat up,' Gemma said.

'Why?'

'Because if you leave it up it doesn't look nice and I fell into the toilet once in the middle of the night. It was gross!! My bottom touched the stinky water!!'

'GROSS, GROSS, GROSS,' shouted Jake.

'That's enough. Go to your rooms and do your homework. When you've finished you can have dessert' Stuart watched them scampering back up the stairs. What little horrors.

Nearly an hour later, just as they were all sitting down to their homemade apple crumble with chocolate blancmange, although Stuart had made himself instant custard, the door bell sounded. Robert stood on the doorstep. His father-in-law never arrived without phoning first to see if it was convenient.

'I'm sorry I didn't phone first, am I interrupting anything?' Robert asked. Stuart noticed his father-in-law looked on edge.

'It's no problem, come in, we're having Steph's homemade apple crumble. If you've any room you can have yours with either custard or chocolate blancmange,' Stuart offered, standing back so the older man could enter. Robert's face changed from a worried look to delight.

'I haven't eaten, and if you've some to spare that would be great. I must admit, 'though, that I would prefer to remain traditional and have it with custard.'

'Come on through and join your grandchildren. Dessert coming up.'

'And a coffee will be welcome too, please,' Robert called out to Stuart.

'Coffee coming up.'

Jake and Gemma, spoons poised mid-air, were obviously pleased to see their grand-dad. They whooped and Jake waved his spoon in greeting, spraying muddy coloured blancmange across the table.

'Steph's shift finishes at nine tomorrow morning, so was there any message for her?' Stuart asked his father-in-law. Robert, who had been eating his dessert and chatting to the children suddenly looked worried again.

'I need to ask you both something, but it's more appropriate away from the dinner table.' Stuart realised he meant away from the children.

'Have you two finished?' asked the children.

'Yes!' shouted Jake. He and his sister left the table, and Jake asked his grandfather if he'd play football with him in the garden.

'Not today,' he told the disappointed boy, 'but I might be able to tomorrow.'

'Great if you are coming back tomorrow,' Jake shouted as he was leaving the room.

Realising something heavy was weighing on his father-in-law's mind, Stuart offered the mug of coffee, and while the kettle was coming to the boil he asked, 'What's up? I can see you're worried about something. You're not ill, are you?'

'No, not ill, but I need your help and support if you'll give it. And Steph's too.'

After putting down the two mugs of coffee, and shutting the door to the hall so the children couldn't hear, Stuart sat down and said, 'I'll do whatever I can, but tell me what it's about.'

'I've left Cecily.' Robert said.

There was a long silence while Stuart's brain caught up with his ears. He realised that the silence was lengthening, and he seemed incapable of saying anything. Eventually, after what seemed five minutes but was probably fewer than ten seconds, he said, somewhat lamely, 'Oh.'

There was another silence. They were both staring at their mugs. Finally, Stuart's brain computed. 'Do you mean, left her forever?' He realised, even to his temporarily shocked brain, what an asinine question.

Robert would hardly say, 'I've left Cecily to come to you for pudding then I'm going home again.'

Robert looked up and caught Stuart's eyes. 'I've had enough. I can't take a moment longer. I realised after a few months I had made a mistake marrying her, but when the girls came along I hoped Cecily would change. Become softer and less greedy for material things. But it didn't work out that way. I've stayed with her all these years and could have left when Steph and Katrina left home, but I had got into a rut. I didn't have the courage to face her. Well, I've done it. We've had a huge row. It took her by surprise because I've always given in to her petty demands, but today I packed my bags and told her I'm off. She'll try to take me for absolutely everything, and she's welcome to it. The house, the furniture. The money in our joint account. I'm taking the car and my collection of old LPs. I don't have anything to play them on but they remind me of a happier time before I married Cecily.'

Stuart sat, stunned. For years he and Steph had wished that her father would leave her mother and get a life of his own. Steph disliked her mother, which had always made her feel guilty, and the way her mother treated her father had annoyed her immensely for years. Now he'd done it. He'd broken free.

'Where are you going to go?' Stuart asked.

His father-in-law looked embarrassed. 'I was hoping I could stay here for a few days,' he mumbled.

'Of course!' Stuart assured him. 'We can move the children in together so you can have a room to yourself.'

'Oh no, don't do that. I'll sleep on the settee,' his father-in-law said.

'If you're sure. Would you be OK on the put-u-up in the study?' Stuart's study was not a typical box room. In many older houses the box room had been intended as a nursery. With so many people having home computers, plus some, like Stuart, partly running a business from home, the spare bedrooms were often turned into a study.

When Stuart designed their house, he planned a good-sized study which was over 12' by 11', and housed a desk, two computers, a printer and other office equipment. There was a very comfortable double bed-settee. Even when pulled out to make a bed there was enough room to walk around it.

'Will I be putting you out?' asked Robert.

'No, not at all. We feel we don't see enough of you and the kids will be thrilled.' Stuart said.

'Do you want to put it past Steph? She may not be so keen.' Robert said. Stuart was surprised at this and hastened to reassure the tired looking man that his daughter would be happy for him to stay.

'She'll be worried about you, and pleased you are here. I don't need to ask her permission, but will send her a text first thing in the morning.'

Robert looked relieved. He sank back against the wooden dining chair. 'That's so good of you. I could go to a hotel, but I don't want to be on my own. I can't expect my friend to put me up again. I appreciate that Cecily will be making contact with the girls to tell her what a mean and wicked man I'm, but I would rather she doesn't know I'm here. She's unlikely to just turn up. She's used to me being her taxi driver.'

'I'm surprised she hasn't been on the phone to here already,' Stuart said.

'She will,' replied Robert sounding worn and defeated. 'She will.'

Oblivious to the drama involving her parents, Steph and the team were working their way through the normal weekend night calamities. There were advantages and disadvantages to working Friday and Saturday nights. The disadvantages were that it was tiring, could be stressful and if working past midnight, they might not get any sleep in an on-call room. The advantages were that the time went past very quickly, and they were never bored. Before they had time to think another drunk came along, needing help.

All sorts of people turned up, some in fancy dress. Stag and Hen parties often went awry, and one night the bride and groom, who had both booked their parties for the same night, ended up side by side in wheelchairs. Funnily enough, whilst he was absolutely blathered out of his mind, and had fallen down some steps and smashed his head, she'd drunk very little, but one of her high heels had got stuck in a grating resulting in her breaking her ankle.

He was sitting moaning, with blood running in rivulets down his face and neck, and she was screaming with pain. When she'd been wheeled in and saw her husband to be, she screamed more.

In his drunken stupor, he didn't recognise her, and told her to, 'Shut up you stupid bitch.' This set her off, hitting him with her handbag. They had to be separated for their own, and everyone else's safety. After her X-ray, before she was taken to have a plaster cast, she could be heard shouting that the wedding was off. Steph never heard if it did end up taking place after all.

Tonight, there were the usual broken fists (caused by smashing into a wall), sprained/broken ankles, bottles smashed onto heads and the twice-monthly stabbing.

Steph could see why people watching violent films on TV, or kids playing violent computer games became immune to real violence. After several years of dealing with A&E patients, Steph found that she was rarely shocked when another bleeding drunk came in. There were the drug addicts too. They were normally worse than the drunks. And as experienced in A&E recently, the ones who had mixed drugs and alcohol were even more unpredictable. Any of them who had greatly over-imbibed were a danger to themselves and others. Some were so over the limit they didn't survive the night.

Tonight, Steph was on with a real rookie. Blaize, (why did parents pick such weird names for their children thought Steph) was like Rachel in her first year studying Diagnostic Imaging. She was quite bright though. She admitted it was her first time dealing with A&E referrals.

'How are you with blood?' Steph asked her.

'Well, apart from the odd scratch I've not seen much,' the girl replied.

'I suspect then, that you're going to see a lot tonight,' Steph told the girl.

Blaize was 5 feet 11 inches tall and quite attractive. On her first day in hospital her hair had been down. Steph told her that she must put it up. The girl had looked upset.

'Do I really have to?' she'd asked.

'Yes,' said Steph. 'I would have thought you were told that at uni. We can't have loose hair, dangly earrings, bracelets or nail varnish.'

'I know, but I did hope I could leave my hair down,' the girl replied.

Seeing her downcast face Steph thought of the vanity some girls had. 'Why do you want your hair down?'

Slowly, the girl turned slightly sideways and pulled her hair away from her left cheek. Instantly Steph realised that the strawberry birthmark between her ear and cheek was, indeed, unsightly. If it had been her, she'd have wanted her hair down too. Slim with shoulder length dark haired pinned back as per hospital regulations, she should have been attractive, but the strawberry birthmark between her left ear and cheek spoiled her looks.

'I understand,' Steph said gently to the girl, 'but I'm afraid rules are rules. Have you any make up that could conceal it?'

'No, I've tried all sorts but I would have to have really thick, what my mum calls 'pancake,' over my face to cover it totally. Then makeup comes off during the day. Also, I feel as if I'm wearing a mask. I usually just have my hair down.'

'I understand, but it is essential your hair is held away from your face. There are some elastic bands in the staff room. Use one of those. They won't be good for your hair but buy some proper hairbands before your next shift.'

Now they were dealing with another smashed fist. The drunk was feeling very sorry for himself. A police officer was waiting outside for him. Presumably the drunk had been involved in a fight and was going to be taken away by the police.

As Steph supervised Blaize setting up the X-ray, the man looked up at Blaize.

'Wosh wrong wiv your faysh?' he asked, blearily.

Blaize immediately flushed so the rest of her face matched the birthmark. Steph distracted the man while Blaize composed herself.

'Now I want you to keep still, with your hand like this, while we take a photo.' After the first X-ray she and Blaize looked at the image on the screen.

'Hell, he moved,' Blaize said.

'Look Mr Jukes. You absolutely must keep your hand in the position my colleague tells you. We have to take photos from two separate angles. Due to possible over-exposure, we can't keep taking them all night. OK?' Steph said.

Blaize repositioned the man's hand and took another image. She came from behind the screen.

'Steph,' she called.

'What,' yelled Steph from outside the X-ray room. She came in to find the drunk had slipped down onto the floor and was fast asleep, or rather in a drunken stupor.

'OK' said Steph. 'What should you do now?' she asked, testing the student.

'Fetch the police officer and have him taken away, to return only when he's sober,' the girl promptly replied.

'Fantastic,' Steph said. 'We know he's been seen by a doctor in A&E and they aren't too worried by the level of whatever he's consumed, now in his blood stream, so your decision is a good one. but, just in case, it is in his best interests to get a doctor to see him quickly. And, I'm sorry to say, it does mean we have a mountain of paperwork to explain why we have taken two images and neither of them is useable.'

Chapter 14 – The drunk

Vomit, blood and curry sauce splattered the X-ray table, one wall and the floor of the X-ray room. It was a normal Saturday night. Steph rubbed her tired eyes. It was only 10.30 pm and she'd been on since nine this morning. Her shift was due to finish at midnight but she wasn't sure if she'd actually manage to get away before 2.00 am if another influx of broken bodies came through.

She wasn't supposed to have another break, and Darren was on his break now. His was a twenty-four-hour shift and was due to end at 9 am. He was the most recent addition to the hospital and after only a week had a reputation for no-one wanting to work with him. Steph could see why.

She knew he'd changed career in his late thirties, from working in a large supermarket. He'd never really explained what his job had been but it was possible it was as a checkout operator. One of the other radiographers had seen him there a few years ago, and when he'd been training at uni, she'd seen him there in the evenings. Steph didn't have a problem with that, but Darren clearly did as he frequently referred to his previous job in terms that inferred he'd been in management. Maybe he had, but at present he was still a relatively new radiographer but acted as if he was a senior and knew it all.

Now, surrounded by the internal fluids of recent patients, and in a no doubt temporary lull in human traffic, Steph started to clean up the mess.

'Hi Steph, had a disgusting coffee. I don't know where they get such vile stuff from.' Darren stuck his head around the door then disappeared into the staff's small changing room. Steph expected him to come out and help her. After several minutes she went looking for him. He was sitting on a chair reading a newspaper. Steph felt her face heat up with annoyance.

'Darren, could you come out and help clean up please?'

'You're leaving soon so I suggest you clean that lot, it's what women are good at and I'll clean up the next coating of puke etc., later on when you've gone.' Darren replied, not looking up from his reading.

Steph was speechless. She knew that when Jas replaced her at midnight, Darren would try to get her to do all the cleaning Also, how dare he order her around when she'd been qualified for twelve years against his eighteen months!

'Darren,' she hissed, 'I'm not asking you to help, I'm telling you to.'

Darren lifted his eyes from the newspaper and after a few seconds shrugged his shoulders and said, 'OK, keep your knickers on,' and slowly lifted himself from the chair, slowly folded the newspaper, and slowly laid it onto the chair. He pushed past her in the doorway and went into the X-ray room.

Steph was breathing raggedly with sheer annoyance. How patronising. He may be older than her but he'd treated her as if she had no authority or importance. Just as if she were the 'little woman' who needed to be kept in her place. And his remark about keeping her knickers on!!! Steph was fuming. He seemed to have the same attitude to women as that Mr. Black, the obnoxious business man on his mobile phone several weeks before. She followed him out and stood watching him wiping down surfaces.

'Darren, don't you dare speak to me, or any other member of staff like that again,' she said.

He looked at her, 'Don't you start. I had enough of that from the women at my last hospital. They were always nagging me. Then when I get home the wife starts.'

'My sympathies lie entirely with any other woman who has had to work alongside or live with you,' she said.

He glared at her and she thought that he muttered something like, 'You're as bad as my stupid bitch of a wife,' under his breath.

Steph turned her back on him and rang for a hospital cleaner to tackle the mess in the waiting room. She then took a clean cloth, and, ignoring Darren, started disinfecting all the equipment he'd wiped down. She heard him put the cloths in the waste bin, then go back into the side room, and turn the taps on, to wash his hands. Thank goodness there were only forty minutes left now. She heard the waiting area buzzer and went to greet the new patient. There was a seemingly drunk man there, being held up by two equally drunk companions. One of them handed the referral form to Steph.

'My frenz hurt his hand,' one offered, while swaying from side to side, causing the other two to do the same.

'Sit down,' ordered Steph. They managed to obey, without checking where they were sitting. As a result, the middle man, who looked vaguely familiar, sat with his shoes in a pile of puke. Steph decided not to tell him, but now that the floor of the X-ray room was clean, she wasn't having him bringing in vomit.

She looked at the sheet in her hand. The name was familiar. She peered at the bleary face in front of her. Got it! It was the menacing and ignorant business man from last week who had been so rude to her. It was definitely the man that Tony and Steve in Security had 'educated' in how to speak to a lady. This time he appeared to be mute, unlike his colleagues who were both humming two different unidentifiable tunes.

Where was Darren she wondered. She'd need help here as drunks are notorious for being unable to keep still that part of their anatomy that needed X-raying. Walking into the side room she was annoyed again to see her colleague back on the chair, reading.

'Darren, you've a patient outside,' she said, with venom in her voice.

'Why don't you do it as I've to carry on until nine tomorrow?' he said. If he'd been watching her, he should have seen steam coming from her ears, she thought.

'I need help. Get off your arse and come in here and help,' she spat. Just as he was starting to look up at her they heard a crash from the changing cubicles. They both dashed out to see what had happened.

There were five curtained cubicles, and all should have been empty, but the businessman was lying on the floor with one of the curtain poles across his body, and the curtain covering his torso. He was groaning. Closer inspection revealed a laceration across his forehead that hadn't been there when he arrived. It looked like he'd grabbed the curtain, slipped and pulled the pole onto his head. Blood was starting to leak from the cut.

Sounds from the waiting area warned of other patients arriving. Steph groaned inwardly. She'd never get to bed at this rate. She and Darren tried to get the man on the floor to stand up, but his eyes were rolling around and she couldn't work out if this was because he was drunk, or if it was due to concussion.

'Darren, we'll have to get a doctor up here to take a look at him. Ring for a doctor. I'll get them to page the other radiographer so she can get in a bit early to come and help with the people outside.' Darren, for once, didn't argue and lifted the phone.

In the waiting room Steph counted four newly arrived patients, with the two businessman's friends lying across seats, both snoring, oblivious to their friend's dilemma. What seemed like hours later, but was, in fact, only an hour later, Jas appeared, early as usual. Darren was taking a break.

'Am I glad to see you,' Steph said to her. 'I'm really tired and I'm also sick of the arrogant pig I've spent what seems like weeks with.'

'Ah, is he called Darren?' Jas asked.

'How did you know?'

'I heard people talking when I went for my break yesterday. I didn't see him but I worked out, from the complaints I overheard, that it was Darren Tyler.'

'You know him?'

Pulling a face, as if she'd trodden in dog muck, Jas said 'Unfortunately I do. He was a thorn in my side whenever I did a shift with him at St.Honore. When he left I was thrilled. So, don't tell me, break the news gently, is he my partner for the night?'

'I'm afraid he is. Are you going to cope?' Steph asked her colleague.

Jas shrugged her shoulders, 'I'm going to have to cope. He's such a bigoted pig. I almost made a formal complaint about him but then I heard he'd taken a job somewhere else. I didn't know it was here.'

'Oh dear Jas, I'm sorry but I'm finishing in twenty minutes and he's on with you until nine in the morning. But he's due to go to sleep in an on-call room soon. Hopefully it will be quiet tonight and you won't have to get him up to help.'

'I think that even if I had a coach load of patients I'd try to avoid being with him,' Jas said with feeling. 'Wasn't it awful about the other night? I heard many medical staff and some security guards had been injured. And that you were on duty. Must have been horrific.'

'It was. It was awful. And poor Polly was stabbed in the stomach and had two fingers sliced off when she tried to defend herself. I've been trying to find out about a collection for her.'

A few minutes later the subject of their annoyance arrived. Both female radiographers were chatting in the staff room, no patients having arrived since he went for break. Wandering in he saw Jas.

'Oh God, not you! For Christ's sake I thought I'd got rid of you. Why can't you be like other immigrant women and stay at home looking after your pack of kids, and leave the jobs for men who have families to support.'

Steph was rooted to the spot. She was so shocked her throat seized and she couldn't speak. Jas, she noticed, didn't seem as appalled. Upset a bit, but not taken aback like Steph. During the silence that followed Steph curbed her anger and finally managed to find her voice.

'How dare you! I can't believe you spoke to a colleague like that! You nasty little turd.'

Darren had turned his back to them and was putting his newspaper into his locker. On hearing the annoyance in Steph's voice, he quickly realised he might have gone too far. Normally he insulted the stupid woman when there weren't any witnesses. He'd slipped up, being taken by surprise when he saw Jas. Anyone with a tad of common sense would have back-peddled, apologised. But Darren was not endowed with much sense, so his next words only helped dig himself in deeper.

'For god's sake, you silly bitch. What are you fussing about? It's only a bit of friendly banter.'

'Friendly banter! You are a bigot. Jas should report you!' Steph was livid. Jas still hadn't reacted, and Darren finally realised he'd gone too far.

Blustering, he said quickly, 'I didn't mean it. It was a joke.'

'Some joke! Jas, are you going to report him?'

Jas shook her head. 'It would cause more problems. but Darren, if ever you insult me or any of my colleagues again I will definitely report you.'

Darren gulped. He'd have to keep his views to himself. Women shouldn't take jobs from men. A woman's place was in the home. but he'd try to keep his opinions to himself. If that woman complained, he could be sacked. He needed this job. Stupid women. It was women who caused all the problems. Annoying as it was he knew he would have to apologise.

'I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it,' he said.

Steph and Jas exchanged glances. Jas said, 'Well I accept your apology, but keep your bigoted and sexist views to yourself in future.'

Midnight had passed a few minutes before so Steph said, 'Darren, you can go to bed now. Collect a pager and make sure if you are paged that you get up straight away. Jas, I'll go home now.'

Darren scuttled away, breathing a sigh of relief. Silly women. He had problems with women at work, then there was his stupid wife, her stupid mother and his own stupid mother. His father had always told him that you've to make allowances for women; their brains are smaller than men's. They were all stupid.

His father had kept his mother in check by the occasional slap. It worked every time. His father died a few years ago and his mother had quickly changed from a timid woman to a nag. His own wife annoyed him constantly but the only time he ever hit her she'd picked up the carving knife in the kitchen and almost stabbed him in the stomach. She only grazed him because he jumped out of the way. She'd then, still clutching the knife, told him that if he ever hit her again she'd take the knife to his private parts when he was asleep, just like that wife did to her husband John Bobbitt, many years ago.

Darren didn't want to risk it so had never hit her again. He was glad his dad hadn't known of his ignominy.

An hour later Steph slid into bed beside her husband, grateful that he wasn't a worm like Darren.

Chapter 15 – Skye makes an appearance

Steph licked the butter off her fingers. She loved hot toast. Marmaduke was on her lap, on his back, four paws in the air, fast asleep. With her free hand she sorted through her emails, opening one from her mother-in-law. Heart thudding and a sick feeling in her stomach she put the toast down and opened the message in purple text that was addressed to both her and Stuart. Seconds later she wished she were still in bed, with all the anticipation of a lovely day ahead.

'Hi Darlings, it's your long-lost Skye. I'm dropping in to stay with you and your darling babies when I'm down your way. I'm staying with friends in Canterbury at present. Lots of luv, Skye.'

The day in tatters, Steph moaned aloud, 'Oh no, no, NOOOOO.' Babies indeed, she's obviously still kooky, she thought. Picking up the phone she told Stuart the bad news.

'No! Has she said when she's coming?' Steph could hear the worry in her husband's voice. He barely knew his mother. She'd given birth to him when she was fifteen but hadn't wanted to have him adopted. By the time he was seven he'd lived with her in six countries. When he was eight she'd decided to stop dragging him around the world and left him with her widowed mother. That meant that he was able to finally start his formal education. His mother had taught him to read ecology magazines when most people didn't yet know they should be saving the planet, how to pick grapes on a kibbutz and to ride a camel and milk goats. Exactly what every child needs to get on in life. Luckily, being a bright boy, he'd soon caught up with his schoolmates and eventually became an architect. His grandmother had died two years before. His mother would never tell him who his father was and his grandmother had also claimed not to know. This was a huge issue for Stuart.

She tended to appear for a couple of days then disappear for between six months and two years. In between she rarely wrote, although had started sending the odd email. Her two grandchildren barely knew her, but were excited when she deigned to appear back in their lives. To them she was exotic, whereas to her son and daughter-in-law she was an irritating and unreliable pest.

'Stuart, she hasn't said when she's turning up. She rarely does. Knowing Skye, she'll turn up unannounced, no thought of telling us when she'll actually arrive.' While she was talking to her husband the doorbell rang. 'Hold on, I'll just see who's at the door and then we can discuss sleeping arrangements as my dad is still bedding down in the office.'

Steph opened the door and there was Skye, with a man holding several suitcases behind her. Before she could utter a word, she was grabbed and subjected to a 'Mwah' on each cheek. Steph was so shocked she submitted to the air-kissing ritual and then watched her mother-in-law flounce through the house towards the kitchen, followed by what must be a taxi driver.

Recovering slightly, Steph put the phone back to her mouth and said 'Stuart, your mother has arrived, come home now!'

Skye had disappeared but Steph could hear her cooing to the children. Stuart was spluttering, 'Oh no, she doesn't intend to stay the night, does she?'

'Stuart, she's your mother, you can deal with her tonight.'

'I can't come now, I've masses to do.'

'Rubbish. Ask Michael to do it. You're just making excuses. I'm not dealing with your kooky mum by myself,' she hissed at him before replacing the receiver and joining Skye into the sitting room.

The unwanted mother-in-law was clad elegantly from head to toe in designer gear \- maybe Versace, Cartier, Ralph Lauren. Her daughter-in-law was ignorant when it came to any apparel from shops other than high street chain stores. Steph and Stuart had no idea where the money came from. Skye jetted around the world and wore beautiful clothes, but didn't seem to undertake any form of paid employment. She also didn't seem to have a permanent address, although the little they knew about her meant that she could, and probably did, have a secret life. For all they knew, Steph thought, Stuart may have another family somewhere. She wouldn't put it past his mother to have another family and not think it important to tell her son.

Standing now next to Skye Steph felt such a frump in her Primark skirt and jumper and slippers. She also felt even larger than her size fourteen. Skye, who was only thirteen years older than her, was about a size eight and looked fifteen years younger than Steph.

Her hair was blonde, and annoyingly real, with a straight fringe and a mane half-way down her back. What stunned her daughter-in-law, but shouldn't, knowing Skye, were the nose-ring, tongue stud and pierced eye-brow, all new additions since she previously haunted them over a year before.

I bet she's got her nipples and naval and pubis pierced too, Steph thought savagely. God, the woman is a real airhead.

'Oh, Skye, show us your tattoos,' screeched Jake and Gemma. Before Steph could protest, Skye hitched up her skirt and showed a butterfly tattooed on the inside of her thigh. Such bloody thin thighs too, thought Steph, despite being incredibly angry with what, was, after all, the children's grandmother! She also took in the white transparent G-string and the blonde pubic hair, clearly visible. My God, she doesn't just have her bikini line waxed, but it's in a heart shape! Steph couldn't believe her eyes.

'Do you want to see my other tattoo? I had it done a few months ago.'

'NO!'

Surprised at the force in her son's wife's voice (Skye never admitted that she had a daughter in law), she raised an eye-brow.

'What's up? It's just a tattoo.'

'But where is it?' shrieked Steph, her face pale and tight. 'Go outside to play,' she instructed the children, who were looking from one adult to another with interest.

'Steffi sweetie, calm down. It's just a teeny-weeny tattoo of a black widow spider. It's on my arm. Here, see?'

Steph did see. She wasn't impressed.

Katrina was bored, bored, bored. A trip to the hairdresser for a complete restyle; a visit to a nail bar for some black and red nail art; a pedicure, Indian head massage and an aromatherapy session had all been fun at the time, but now she was languid with boredom. She'd thought a week off work would be fun but it had now palled. She hadn't anywhere to go most nights this week as her friends were either tied at home with their children, or away on holiday.

'Hello, is Steph there?', she asked the vaguely familiar sounding girl who picked up the phone at her sister's house. It wasn't Gemma, but Katrina couldn't place the voice. Following a short silence, a breathless 'hello' notified her that Steph was home.

'Hi Steph, who answered the phone?'. Steph moved into the garden for privacy and bemoaned, 'Oh god, you won't believe it, that was Skye.'

'No!!' screeched Katrina, ' Where has she been? She's been off the radar for ages, hasn't she?'

'Yes, but not for long enough, and I've no idea how long she's intending to stay this time.'

'What does Stuart say?'

'He's nearly as horrified as I am. I hope he doesn't intend to 'work late' tonight, to avoid spending time with her. I'll throttle him if he pulls that trick again. You couldn't come over, could you?' appealed Steph.

'Oh gosh Steph, I'm sorry but I'm fully booked tonight, oh, and tomorrow night,' she added hastily.

'I thought you were off work this week? Can't you come over sometime to distract her for me?'

Through the subsequent silence Katrina could hear the quick uneven breathing of her sister. Guilt started to set in so Katrina said, 'Oh, OK, I'll come for a short time tomorrow evening, but I can't stay late'.

'Oh thanks, Kat about coming for tea? I finish work at five so will have time to cook something quick. You aren't still on that tomato diet, are you?'

'Five is fine, I'll bring some wine, suspect you will need it, and no, I'm de-toxing at present but I'll be all right tomorrow night and will bring my Redbush tea bags. See you tomorrow'.

'OK, see you tomorrow Kat.' With relief Steph returned to the hall and inserted the receiver into its charge. Bracing herself, she went in search of her children and mother-in-law.

'I've got to go Michael; my mother has turned up and Steph will have my guts for garters if I don't go.' Stuart closed down his computer and put his I-pad in his briefcase.

'Weren't you expecting her?' asked Michael.

'True to form my mother turns up like a bad penny, prodigal son or whatever, without any warning. She never allows herself to age and is probably as outrageous as usual.'

'I like her though,' said Michael. 'She's certainly not dull.'

'I can't think what she'll be like when she's in her seventies, still dressing like a hippy and acting like a twenty-year-old,' Stuart sighed. 'She'll probably be wearing thigh high purple boots and consider everyone else to be boring.'

Robert heard the children laughing as he came through the front door. It was lovely to be staying in a happy house, with happy children. The comparison with the dark, disapproving atmosphere in his own home was drastic. Even with two young girls there had been little laughter in his household. Cecily was a big black cloud. The only times that father and daughters were able to laugh and enjoy themselves was when Robert took them out for the day, to the zoo or even just for an ice cream, leaving his harpy of a wife behind.

He wished he'd had the courage to divorce Cecily years ago but then he'd have been wracked with guilt as in those days fathers were rarely given custody, and his departure would have ensured the girls would have had a dreadful time being bullied by their mother. Also, he bet that his wife wouldn't have allowed him to see the girls after he'd left, whatever a court had decreed.

Walking down the hall he planned to greet his grandchildren, have a mug of tea and perhaps play dominos with them. He could see Steph in the kitchen. On reaching the open living room door he heard a new voice. He paused on the threshold and recognised his son-in-law's mother. No-one had told him she was visiting. A set of Samsonite luggage had been set next to the settee. Jake and Gemma were playing with some strange objects. Robert approached Skye and went to shake her hand, but, despite her diminutive figure she jumped up and embraced him as if they were long lost friends.

'Robert, how absolutely lovely to see you again. I've missed everyone so much. Steph tells me that you're staying here? Aren't our little babies gorgeous? I brought them some little toys to play with.'

Robert had stood during this quickly delivered torrent, then sat in one of the armchairs and smiled at Skye. He'd always liked her. She was flighty, selfish but full of enthusiasm for life. She seemed genuinely fond of her family, albeit she rarely saw them. Another reason for liking her was that Cecily decidedly did not. She called her son-in-law's mother a harlot.

He and Skye were chatting, or at least she was doing all the talking while he nodded and listened, about her recent travels. She'd been in Malaysia two days ago and Ecuador before that and planned to move on to Paris in a few days. Neither heard Steph approaching with coffee, but her shocked, 'What's that thing?' her voice rising to a near scream announced her presence. Both adults firstly looked at her and then in the direction in which she was staring.

'What is it?!' she asked again. Robert was also trying to determine the things that his grandchildren were holding.

'Oh darling Steffie, aren't they cute? They're presents for my lovely little babies,' said Skye.

'But what ARE they?' demanded Steph.

Robert, being closer to Jake than Steph, thought he must be imagining things. Surely, they weren't? He rather thought they were.

'They're shrunken heads. Aren't they just something? I immediately thought of my two adorable little sweethearts. I bet none of their little friends will have anything like them.'

Robert could see that Steph was transfixed, and seemed incapable of speech. He thought he knew what she wanted to say so he asked, 'I take it they're plastic?'

'Plastic! Why would I bring back those gimmicky touristy plastic heads? Of course, they're not plastic. Only the best for my little sweethearts. I've brought you something else Steffie. I didn't think you would want one of those.' Skye was oblivious to the shock on Steph and Robert's faces.

Recovering quickly, Robert got up and took the tray of drinks from his daughter-in-law's hands before she dropped them.

'They can't be real. Tell me they're not real Skye?' Steph shouted. The two children, who had been pretending that the small heads had been talking to each other looked at their mother. Before Skye could answer, they all heard a key in the front door lock and the children rushed over to show their father their new, strange, smelly toys.

A couple of hours later, the two heads residing in the wheelie bin outside, the children were bathed and having a story read to them by their father. Robert had offered to give up his bed in the study for Skye. It wasn't necessary as the children could double up for a couple of nights, but Robert, foreseeing that more storms were on the way, felt it would be easier for his daughter and son-in-law if there was one less person to have to feed, and to be witness to the tension. In truth, he had enough tension at home and couldn't face any more. Once Skye had gone he'd be able to return until he'd made plans for a more permanent abode. He had phoned around a couple of B&Bs and found one a couple of miles away.

In bed that night, Steph and Stuart were still amazed that Skye could have thought such disgusting objects were suitable for children. She'd confirmed they were not actually real heads from people who had died, but were made from leather and real human hair and were quite realistic. Steph thought they still looked nasty and wouldn't allow the children to keep them. Skye was upset that they had been consigned to the rubbish bin and told her daughter-in-law she had too many hang-ups.

'Darling, I'm going to tackle her tomorrow about my father. I've a right to know who he was.'

Steph nuzzled up to him and said, 'I know. I'd feel the same way if it was me. I just hope that if you find him he's not as objectionable as my mother. I wish she weren't my real mother.' She turned over and managed to get to sleep after several minutes. Her husband stayed sitting up, pondering how to persuade his mother to name his father.

Chapter 16 Who is my father?

The house was in turmoil. How one mother-in-law could cause so much chaos was beyond Steph. Skye had been here only two nights and her son and daughter-in-law were longing for her to leave. Katrina had appeared last night which had taken a little of the pressure off Steph. Katrina was more in tune with Skye than her sister, wearing similarly expensive clothes, taking great care with her hair and make-up and always ensuring she didn't leave the house without full make up and nail polish. Even so, Katrina disapproved of the tattoos and piercings that Skye thought were suitable.

Skye had taken the children out that afternoon, promising a visit to the ice cream parlour where they could choose between the one hundred ice creams boasted on the board outside. The children trailed around various clothes stores before Gemma loudly protested she was bored, with Jake backing up his little sister's lament. Laden with shopping bags, Skye gave in to the complaints and finally took them to the ice cream parlour. Large sundae dishes filled with various flavours of ice cream, flake bars, multi-coloured sprinkles and various sauces went down well. While they tried to plough their way through the multi-coloured creations, their grandmother was restrained as usual having a glass of hot water with a slice of lemon. She always carried a small supply of lemon slices and was quite unabashed removing them from a small plastic container and dropping them into tea or water.

Neither child could finish their desserts and Gemma professed to feeling sick. Skye sent her into the toilet on her own. After several minutes, when the child hadn't returned, Jake expressed concern. Skye told him not to worry. After a few more minutes had passed a female customer brought the child back to Skye. Gemma had been sick down her dress and onto her shoes. The woman wasn't happy with Skye and told her that she shouldn't have sent her daughter into the toilet alone. Skye didn't correct or even thank her. She told the children that they were leaving. Four taxi drivers recoiled in disgust and refused to allow them to board on seeing the tearful and malodorous child.

Appreciating she was on a hiding to nothing, Skye dragged the confused children into a department store and within seven minutes handed her card to a bemused assistant who had done as demanded by the customer and checked the sizes on the labels of the tee-shirt and leggings Gemma was wearing. Skye handed Gemma's soiled clothes to the assistant with the instruction to burn them. The journey home was eventful with both children being sick, to the taxi driver's annoyance.

On arriving home, Stuart was greeted by two children who needed a bath and clean clothes. At dinner neither child could eat much and became fractious before asking to go to bed early. As usual Skye provided a monologue, providing little space for the other two to get a word in. The conversation was about places, many of which Stuart and Steph hadn't been to, and people scattered around the world of whom the two bored listeners had never heard.

Once the children were in bed, all three adults settled down in the living room with glasses of wine. During a rare pause for Skye to take a sip of wine, Stuart jumped in with a time-honoured question.

'Who's my father?' Steph decided now might be a good idea for her to load the washing machine, leaving her husband and his mother to battle it out as usual. Since becoming a father, Stuart was more interested in his next words, 'What makes me Me?'

'Oh, Stuart sweetie, you're not going to start that old chestnut, are you?' She was looking at him disapprovingly, which just made him more annoyed.

'I've a right to know. I NEED to know. I don't understand why it's such a secret. He's not even on my birth certificate. Don't you know that having an empty box under 'father' on my birth certificate is embarrassing? Or maybe you really don't know who my father was. It could have been anyone?'

Shock raced across his mother's face. The two had had discussions, even rows about this issue several times before but he'd never said anything so hurtful before. Composing herself she said, 'Stuart, of course I know who your father is. I've always preferred an older man, but when I became pregnant with you it could only be one person. Your father never knew that I was pregnant. I didn't want to involve him. He already had a family and his marriage would have collapsed if his wife had found out.'

'That's not good enough. I still feel I've a right to know.'

From the kitchen where she was now putting the coffee machine on, Steph could hear his voice getting louder and more insistent. She decided to stay out of the way a little longer.

'And did the fact that you were underage have anything to do with the decision not to put his name on the birth certificate? You would have been only fourteen when you became pregnant' Skye seemed to flinch at this. She took another sip of wine and was no longer looking at her son.

'It is not appropriate for you to know who your father is. No, let me finish,' she said as Stuart was drawing breath to protest. 'He's a public figure....' Her voice tailed off and she looked as if she wished she could withdraw the words.

Stuart jumped at this. 'A public figure? He's still alive and having people know he's an illegitimate son could ruin his career? So, you're protecting him?' Skye remained quiet. Stuart waited. Reaching for the wine bottle she topped up her glass and avoided his eyes by staring into the liquid.

'Ok, if you won't tell me, then as I don't have a father I might as well not have a mother. I see you so rarely. I don't need you. When you leave for Paris tomorrow you will know that you are never coming back!'

In the kitchen his wife was shocked. She was unsure whether to stay hidden, but not be able to give him support, or to go in and pretend she knew nothing of what had just occurred. Before she'd made up her mind Stuart started to speak again.

'You will never see me or your grandchildren again. If you truly loved me you wouldn't be doing this to me.' Steph heard him leave the room and rapidly climb the stairs to his study, closing the door after him. She poured two mugs of coffee, putting skimmed milk into Skye's and semi-skimmed into hers, then took them through to the living room.

Skye was hunched up on the settee, looking frail and miserable. She no longer looked younger than her daughter-in-law. Lines of misery were etched on her face. The kohl around her eyes and her mascara had run down her cheeks. Steph, unused to seeing this aspect of her mother-in-law, wondered if a hug would be rejected. Oh well, she thought, let's give it a try.

Seconds later she and Skye were in an embrace on the settee, Steph patting Skye's back while she sobbed. I can't tell him, I can't tell him,' was repeated over and over again.

Eventually, Skye disengaged herself and blotted her face with a tissue. 'Thanks,' she whispered to Staph, then, 'Do you think he means it? That he won't allow me to see you all ever again?' She looked utterly miserable. Steph wasn't sure if her husband really meant it, but felt that if his strategy was, in essence, to blackmail his mother into revealing the truth, then she wasn't going to jeopardise his plan.

'Yes, I'm afraid he does mean it. It is really, really important to him,' she told the still sobbing woman.

'I'll be back in a minute.' She went into the kitchen, made a mug of coffee for Stuart and took it to him. He wasn't doing anything at all, just staring at the wall, but looked up at her when she entered the study.

'How is she? Did I go too far?' he asked her.

'She's very upset. I must admit you frightened me with your outburst, and she's crying buckets, but I agree with you, and if you intend to keep to your decision then we need to discuss it as my only concern is the children do enjoy seeing her. we'd be depriving them of her rare visits.'

Stuart looked as miserable as his mother. Steph took his hand. 'Let's see how it goes in the morning. Hopefully she'll make the decision to tell you when she's had time to ponder tonight.' He gave her a weak smile as she left the room.

Downstairs, Steph saw that Skye hadn't moved. She still had the panda look and gratefully accepted the paper tissues Steph handed her. Both coffees untouched, Steph passed Skye's over to her.

Again, Skye asked the question, 'Does he really mean it?' She looked hopefully at Steph.

'I'm afraid he does. I feel you have some serious thinking to do.'

Skye sighed, then said, 'He just doesn't know how much is at risk.'

Stuart made a point by staying upstairs all evening, then joining Steph in bed after he'd showered. Soon after, they could hear Skye moving about, taking a shower, and then going to bed.

Clouds and rain greeted the household when they awoke the next morning. The grey sky did nothing to dampen the spirits of the children, now fully recovered as they got ready for school. The adults, however, were subdued. Stuart had breakfast on the run, leaving the house without saying goodbye to his mother. She only had hot water and a slice of lemon for breakfast and joined the children who were making their usual mess. After shouted requests from the children to go with them to school, Skye joined them in the car, kissed them at the school gate, and then returned with her daughter-in-law to finish packing.

Normally in Skye's presence Steph would be the listener, unable to contribute to the conversation. During the school run Skye remained uncharacteristically quiet, and appeared to be thinking.

With five hours before Skye needed to leave for the airport, and Steph having a rest day from work, the two women had time to sit together in the conservatory, with biscuits and mugs of coffee. Steph waited for the other woman to talk. After a few minutes Steph heard her take a deep breath.

'Steffie darling, what shall I do? If I tell Stuart who his father is it will have dreadful ramifications, for his father, his father's family, his career and for Stuart, you, the children and for me. Stuart just doesn't realise the huge problems it would cause.'

Steph replied, 'But shouldn't Stuart be the one to decide whether he acts on the information or not? Do you not think he's a right to know?'

'I just know that if telling him means he'll contact his father, it will be like opening Pandora's Box. I don't know what to do.'

'Why don't you discuss this with Stuart? Explain to him what you've told me. Then tell him that the decision to contact his father is his, but that you feel it is not a good idea for everyone involved.'

Skye was silent, clearly considering this suggestion. 'All right. Next time I'm here I'll do just that.' Having made the decision, she brightened considerably. Steph wasn't letting her off so easily.

'And when might that be Skye? Six months? Two years? Keeping your son waiting, knowing he's unhappy? It's not fair on him.'

Several emotions, including impatience, Steph thought, passed across Skye's face. Gosh, Steph thought, he must be really important for her to protect him. I wonder if he's a politician or a famous actor? Whoever he is he should be hung up to dry impregnating a fourteen-year old, then abandoning her. Serve him right.

'It's Howard H Laskington!' The words burst from Skye's mouth like someone with Tourette's. She looked at Steph, awaiting a response. Steph was shocked. It might have been better for it to be a politician or actor. She realised her jaw had dropped as she stared back at her mother-in-law.

'No! It can't be.'

'I assure you it is,' Skye replied. 'Now do you see why I've kept it a secret? He's a high profile American evangelist. Preaching about fidelity, the sanctity of marriage, reminding the world about the ten commandments, that no-one should have carnal knowledge of a woman outside marriage, and showing off his pretty, devout little wife and three lovely daughters, one of whom is my age, and one a year older.'

'I'm shocked, Skye. But he's much older than you. How did it happen?' Steph realised as soon as she asked the question that she and Skye had reached a new level in their relationship. Never before would she have asked such a personal question.

Skye shrugged. 'I was partly to blame. I had gone to the evangelical event he was running in a Birmingham hotel. When he was on the stage, preaching, he was so strong, so forceful. Hundreds of people went to the front and were blessed. I was one of them. Right there at the front in the middle. He came down and put his hand on the heads of several of us including me. He moved his hand from the top of my head, down to the nape of my neck, then down my back, then cupped my left bum cheek. Everyone was looking at his face, so didn't see. He looked at me. He was twenty years older than I. I've always liked older men and when he looked into my eyes I could see he fancied me too.'

'But he has a daughter older than you, you said? How could he?' Steph showed her disgust.

'So, I take it you met again? When?'

'I loitered around after the event finished, then searched for his room. It was guarded by two beefy men, but I chatted them up and learned that his family was back in Utah. They wouldn't let me knock on his door but let me put a note under it. I wrote that I had been at the front wearing the bright pink tight top, that he'd blessed me and did he want to meet me for a drink in the bar downstairs. I said I would wait until midnight. I phoned a friend and she agreed to give me an alibi that I was staying at her house.'

'I can't believe this. Go on.' Steph felt that she'd gone back in time to her teens, discussing boyfriends with a contemporary, and had to remind herself it was her mother-in-law.

'Well, he met me about twenty minutes later, bought me a drink, then suggested we relax in his room. I stayed the night, bunked off school the next day and we spent most of the time in his bed. Room service kept us topped up, and he said he'd be paying a huge premium to keep the security guards quiet.'

During this revelation Steph had been sitting on the edge of the settee, disbelieving. It was like listening to a play on the radio. Fiction but stated as fact. Her mother in law's story was similar to those shocking claims told by alleged victims of British DJs and others in the recent scandals. Until now Steph had taken most of the claims with a pinch of salt. Surely no one would really act like that, with who, in effect, was a child, she thought. I'm naive. I've no reason to disbelieve Skye. The tale she was telling her daughter-in-law was one that she'd never told anyone else. Skye found that it was a release to tell someone, even after all these years.

'Didn't he know you were only fourteen?'

'Not until I told him I was pregnant months later. It was a bit of a shock. I'm sure he wouldn't have asked me to his room if he'd realised how young I was. He was in Birmingham for another couple of nights, and I stayed with him every night. I told Mum I was on a school residential trip and she believed me. He gave me a beautiful silver cross and chain when he left to fly to his next event in Australia. I still have it. He was really nice you know.'

Steph's opinion of him was unmentionable and surely 'nice' did not apply. 'So how did you contact him to tell him you were pregnant?'

'Gosh, that was awful. It was seven months later and he was advertised as being in Manchester. By then Mum knew I was having a baby and was livid because I refused to say who the father was. She kicked me out of the house so Social Services put me in a children's home with lots of little kids who had been abused. I took a bus to Manchester, saw the "show" as I now call it, him being an excellent actor, and then went to his dressing room before he came off stage. The minder outside his room wouldn't let me in at first. I begged and pleaded to no avail. When he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder I screamed that I was expecting his boss's baby. I was obviously pregnant but he probably thought I was just going for a blessing. Whether he believed me or not I don't know, but he gently put me down and told me to wait.

I saw him knock on the dressing room door, open it, say something and a minute later a girl about sixteen came out, scowling at me, and rearranging her bra and T-shirt. I reckon it was a nightly occurrence, young nubile girls meeting an attractive and powerful and charismatic man. Anyway, the great man himself then ushered me in. He was apoplectic with shock at first when I said it was his baby. Then he recovered and told me that it could be anyone's. We were shouting at each other in his dressing room. He was extra stressed this time because his wife and daughter were waiting for him in the hotel. He demanded that I arranged a paternity test, and I was to keep quiet. He sent an assistant off to get £1000 which he gave me to shut me up, and that if the baby was his he'd give me more money. He told me to get an abortion. I told him it was too late and I was keeping the baby.'

'The bastard,' said Steph.

'Anyway, the positive test result meant he had to keep me sweet. His guilt money has meant that I've never needed to work, and when I showed my mum the huge amount of money coming in every month from the father, although she didn't know who he was, she was slightly less unhappy, as she benefitted too. It was she who offered to take over the care of Stuart when he was about seven, and I sent her half of the allowance each month. There was plenty for the three of us. When she died Stuart was nineteen and at university. I just put a quarter of what I received into his bank account. Then when he qualified I gave him a lump sum of the other twenty-five percent I had saved for him each month. It meant he could set up his architect practice with Michael.'

This surely was a day of revelations and shocks, thought Steph, and a complete turnaround of her opinion of her mother-in- law's financial management. She'd never considered Skye as having any real interest in money, and at such a young age. She realised she really did not know her.

'But surely the maintenance stopped when Stuart left university?'

'No, Stuart's father has been so worried I would tell that he's carried on paying it all these years. He's a very rich man. He still tours, preaching goodness and morality, the hypocrite.'

'But Skye, isn't that a sort of blackmail?'

Skye shrugged. 'Some might say so, but I'd call it insurance. He's never quibbled paying out. He told me that he receives several million dollars every year in donations. And that was years ago. It's bound to be more now.'

Steph decided another coffee and lunch were in order while she thought about the implications of her mother-in-law's story. She felt she'd had a dilemma thrust upon her. Now that she knew the identity of Stuart's father she understood Skye's concerns. If this became public she, Stuart and the girls would never again be able to lead a normal life.

That evening, after the children had gone to bed, Stuart started agonising about his father again. His wife maintained her silence. She needed time to think.

Chapter 17 – The prisoner

Katrina felt she'd hit rock bottom. No-one loved her. She'd always had a series of men fawning around her, telling her how beautiful she was. She'd always been looked after, but, looking back, she'd never met Mr. Right. Did he exist? She didn't think so. At least not for her.

Steph had it all. She'd a man who loved her, two adorable children, a beautiful house and an interesting job. Katrina had nothing. She was on her own again. She hated living alone. She always lost weight when she didn't have anyone to eat with. She lived on toast, chocolates and wine. Tonight, she'd drunk one and a half bottles. They had been consumed over four hours, so it wasn't too bad, she told herself.

Why couldn't she have a life like Steph? It wasn't fair. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Reaching for the bottle, she thought she might as well finish it. Wine doesn't keep, she persuaded herself. Lifting her glass for another mouthful, tears dripped into the wine.

At 1.15 in the morning she couldn't cry any more. Forgetting the time, she picked up the phone and selected a number from her address book. Stumbling through layers of sleep Stuart fumbled for the phone. Steph was waking too. Both were worried that it was bad news about a parent or grandparent.

'Hello?' said Stuart. A tinny sound from the hand piece confused him. 'Who is this? What's wrong?' Turning to Steph he said, 'Someone's crying.' Steph motioned to him to pass the handset over to her.

She listened for about thirty seconds then said, 'Hello? Katrina, is that you? Katrina? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Have you had an accident?' She turned back to Stuart. 'I think it's Katrina but she's not making sense. Katrina. Take a deep breath, count to ten, calm down. I can't help you if I can't find out what's wrong.......OK? Right. Speak slowly and tell me what the problem is.'

She listened for about a minute then said, ' Katrina, you MUST calm down. I can't understand a single word you are saying. I'm going to stop the call and phone you back on your mobile in five minutes. I need you to be lucid. I can't help you if I can't understand you.' After terminating the call, she rose from the bed and started getting dressed. 'I'm going to have to go over to her,' she told her husband.

'Wouldn't it be best if I went and you stayed with the children?' he asked.

'I'd rather go to her. She can cry on my shoulder. I don't want her crying on yours.' She grinned at him. 'It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust her!'

Steph phoned again. Thankfully her sister had composed herself and just said, 'I need you Steph. Please come.'

'I'll be there in under half an hour,' Steph assured her.

Katrina let her sister in and flung herself into her arms, sobbing again. Moving into the kitchen, with her sister still clinging to her, Steph made coffee for them both, more to keep her awake than for her sister's benefit.

Eventually, after weepy interruptions, Katrina purged her soul.

By 4.20 Steph felt if she didn't go to bed soon she would suffer a migraine. She helped Katrina pack a bag and they went to the car. The cold outside hit Steph, catching in her throat. The car heater was slow to warm, being a diesel, and warm air was only really starting to come through when they reached Steph's house.

On the drive over Steph was trying to work out where her sister could sleep. Robert was back in the study, the children had their own rooms and as they were asleep she couldn't turf them out now. It had to be the settee. Hopefully it would be only for a few days.

She'd have to try to help Katrina sort herself out. She'd admitted to pouring at least a bottle of wine down her throat every night. At that rate her liver would soon be pickled. She also looked quite painfully thin. When Steph had seen her lately her sister had been all bundled up in jumpers. Tonight, when they had hugged Steph had felt her bones. While she knew she wasn't anorexic, Steph knew she ate badly when she was unhappy. Climbing back into bed she snuggled up to Stuart.

'How is she?'

'She's an emotional mess as usual, also rather drunk tonight. In the morning she'll be feeling sorry for herself. We need to keep her occupied, although that's not easy when we're both out at work most days.'

After having had to concentrate on her driving, now that she could relax another wave of tiredness swept over her, then consumed her. Seconds later she was asleep. Stuart made the most of having her to cuddle before he too fell asleep.

He awoke to the TV blaring in Jake's room. He glanced at the clock. 7.20. The children were watching some rubbishy kids' programme. It was too loud, as usual.

Slipping out of bed he donned his terry towel dressing gown and padded downstairs. Marmaduke demanded his biscuits. Failure to feed him immediately meant people would trip over him. Sometimes it seemed as if there were half a dozen ginger toms so he always got his own way. A few minutes later, the TV having been turned down and Jake's bedroom door closed, Stuart placed the mug of tea on the bedside cabinet and snuggled back in bed. A couple of minutes later the cat jumped onto the bed and started his post-breakfast ablutions. Stuart would drink the tea in a minute when it had cooled down.

At 7.40 both parents were rudely awoken by the children jumping on the bed, causing Marmaduke to hide under it. They had discovered their aunt and awoken her too. Steph felt that if Katrina experienced that every morning she may decide to go home soon.

Needing to leave imminently Steph splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to wake up properly and took the two mugs of cold tea downstairs. Shortly after she kissed Stuart, the children and Katrina, who was looking the worse for wear for once, and ate her toast in the car. Today was going to be a long one, with tiredness making her head feel fuzzy already.

'We have a prisoner coming in, booked at 1.30 pm,' Steph told Blaize. 'We've referred the public to the other X-ray room so the prisoner can come straight in without hanging around frightening the public.'

Blaize looked worried. 'A prisoner?'

'Yes, we often have prisoners from Fraystone. They get bored in prison and have to think up ways to go out on a trip to relieve the monotony.'

The student still seemed concerned. Her eyes were open wide and she had a startled look, rather like a rabbit caught in car headlights.

'Don't worry,' Steph reassured her, 'They're always handcuffed to the prison officer who accompanies them. Except for the actual X-ray, of course.'

Blaize wasn't reassured. 'Are they violent?' she asked.

'Don't worry, we will have two hospital security officers and the prison officer too.'

'But what about during the X-ray? No-one else can come into the X-ray room,' asked Blaize.

'The prison officer handcuffs the prisoner to the equipment,' Steph replied. 'Go on your break now and be back for just before 1.00. I'll do the X-rays but you can check his details when he arrives. OK? And can you bring me a large black coffee? Here's £3.'

A small, 'OK' came from the girl.

While the student was away Steph cleaned some of the equipment and checked the GP list for the afternoon. She phoned Stuart who told her that Katrina had been lounging around all day, channel hopping. Stuart suggested chill con carne for dinner. Stuart could only cook three main meals that weren't ready meals: chilli con carne, salmon with boiled rice and salad and spaghetti Bolognese. The first time Stuart had invited her to his house was on their third date. They hadn't yet slept together, and she thought that this was a ruse to get her into bed. Instead, he'd cooked homemade spaghetti Bolognese which had been delicious. It had been the first time she'd eaten Italian food, as her mother said it was all, 'Foreign muck.'

Over the following dates at his house he'd cooked his other dishes and she'd thought he had a wider repertoire, until he started again with spaghetti, then chilli then salmon. She then realised he could cook three meals well and that was the extent of his culinary skills. It was better than nothing.

When she'd returned to work after the children were born he'd cook an evening meal for her if she was due to finish her shift at five. Generally, nine to five shifts would be for five consecutive days.

Wishing that Stuart would extend his repertoire to at least five dishes Steph would sometimes pick up a ready meal on the way home.

Blaize returned with the coffee and a chocolate muffin for Steph.

'Thanks, that's great,' said Steph, 'but doesn't do much for my figure.' As soon as she took a mouthful of muffin the department phone rang.

Blaize picked it up and had a short conversation. Turning towards Steph she told her that the prisoner was on his way up. Seeing how worried the girl was, and knowing her earlier attempts at reassuring her hadn't worked, she suggested that Blaize stay in the staff room. For a moment Steph saw the relief on the girl's face, but then Blaize said, 'No, I'm here to learn. I'll be watching.'

They heard noises from the waiting area, so Blaize followed Steph to meet the prisoner and guards. The prisoner was handcuffed to a man in uniform, and was accompanied by the prison officer and two hospital security guards. Blaize watched the prisoner, who was in his thirties with short brown hair and over 6 feet tall. He was smiling and joking with his captors.

Steph read the prisoner's patient sheet, asked for his date of birth then passed it to the student. Steph greeted the prison officer by name. It was apparent they had met before as he asked her how her children were. The prisoner and guard were shown into the X-ray room. The security men stood in the doorway, blocking the exit.

The guard produced a small key from a chain in his pocket and unlocked his handcuffs, then quickly looped it through a piece of metal on the X-ray table. The prisoner had started joking and larking about, trying to attract Blaize's attention. She remained in the background, watching.

'Let's see,' said Steph, a suspected razor blade been ingested. She looked at the prisoner. 'I believe you came in last month with a similar problem, Mr. Cann?'

'Yes, I had another one that slipped in while I was shaving,' he replied.

'Slipped in?' said the officer, 'what were you shaving, your tonsils?' Everyone laughed except Blaize who still looked ready to flee if the prisoner did more than just look at her. She watched Steph position the man for the X-ray, then went with her behind the screen during the exposures. The prisoner kept up a patter during the procedures and asked Blaize what her name was. Before the girl could reply Steph interjected, 'that's on a need to know basis and you don't need to know.'

Once the X-rays had been taken the prisoner was un-cuffed from the equipment and back on the wrist of the officer.

As the prisoner was being led away he called over his shoulder, 'See you soon girls.'

Blaize had been quiet during the procedure but now wanted lots of answers. 'Was that really a razor blade he swallowed?'

'Yes, but it was wrapped in cotton wool so it wouldn't do too much damage,' Steph replied.

'But why did he do it?' asked the perplexed girl.

'It's boring in prison. There's almost nothing to do for twenty-two hours a day. Not seeing people other than other prisoners and staff and the odd visitor is tedious. Coming out to a hospital doesn't seem much fun to me but for them it's a few hours out.'

'But hasn't he put himself in danger of real damage? Won't he have to have an operation to remove it?' asked Blaize.

'Yes, but it is a safety razor, not one of those lethal double-sided blades. Did you notice the scar on his stomach?' Steph queried. 'He did the same last month and had an overnight stay in hospital. He had to stay in a secure room with two guards to stop him running away.'

Blaize thought it all quite awful. She couldn't understand how anyone could do that to themselves. But then she'd seen some really weird X-rays at university. 'I saw some X-rays at uni during a lecture. We were asked to say what we thought the objects were. People had swallowed things like a man's tie for a dare, a cardboard cereal packet, a St Christopher medallion and silver chain and a front door key.'

'Yes,' said Steph, 'some people can't really help it. It's called Pica, intentionally swallowing non-food items. For some people it's a mental illness. Others do it for a bet.'

'But surely they know that they're putting themselves at risk?'

'How about people who smoke cigarettes? They're risking smoking-related illnesses. People who over-eat? They're putting themselves at risk of heart disease, diabetes and problems with knee joints etc. Racing car or bike drivers, mountain climbers, abseilers, the list goes on. There are risks in many sports. You try telling someone that they risk various cancers, lung disease or blindness through smoking. Odds on they will just light up another one. They think it won't happen to them.'

Blaize shrugged her shoulders, 'I guess so. I keep trying to get my mum to stop smoking but she can't. What other things people have swallowed that you've seen on X-rays?' Blaize asked.

'Well,' Steph considered, 'a few weeks ago a chap swallowed a toothbrush.'

'Why?' asked Blaize.

'He said it hadn't been intentional. He claimed he was cleaning his teeth and tongue when it slipped down.'

'It must have hurt on the way down,' the girl said. 'Once I swallowed a large chip by accident and it hurt.'

'Also, there were the ball bearings, about six, that a small child swallowed. They were quite heavy and the danger was that instead of going around all the bends of the colon, the weight of them would mean they would gather in one place and just go downwards, perforating the colon on the way down, and killing the child. It was quite a shock when I saw them.'

'What happened?' Blaize asked.

'I called the consultant radiographer on duty and told him what I could see. He was down here in a matter of under two minutes to look at the image. The girl was whisked away, with her mother sobbing, and I heard they operated almost immediately and thankfully she recovered. The interesting bit is that the mum knew her daughter had swallowed them, but thought they would just work through and be excreted naturally. It was only because she mentioned it on the phone to her brother, a paramedic, that she found it was potentially life-threatening. The weird thing is that he lives in Australia and they hadn't spoken for months. He'd phoned to ask for the address of a relative. He asked after his niece and was told what had happened only minutes before.'

'Wow! So, if he'd phoned a bit earlier, later or not at all, the child could have died because the mother didn't think it mattered? That is amazing!'

'Then there was the man who was in a pub with his mate and said he would eat his hat if one of his mates could do a handstand against the wall. Unfortunately for him, his mate did and all of them made him eat his hat. It was a peaked cap, with a buckle and a hard plastic peak covered in cotton. He managed to swallow the whole thing by cutting it up and drinking pints of beer to get it down. The next morning he'd severe stomach pains and told his wife what he'd done. She brought him in to A&E.'

'What did you see?'

'I saw the buckle quite clearly, and scraps of cloth and some quite hard pieces of plastic. The worry was the plastic could perforate the stomach, so he'd to have an op too. The problem was the huge amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. He was lucky to be alive.'

Blaize, asked, 'How old was he?'

'I think he was forty-two or so.'

'Wow!! That's quite old. You'd think at that age he'd have more sense.'

Steph, regarded at the twenty-one-year-old girl, blinked at the 'quite old'. but agreed he should have had more sense. Looking at her watch, she was pleased to see there were only two and a half hours left until she could go home. The first thing she'd do was shower then see how everyone was, particularly her silly sister. All her life Steph felt she'd been cleaning up her sister's messy life. She needed to grow up.

Chapter 18 – Katrina

A week of nine to fives were now over. Steph could look forward to two days off then she had another night shift to do. Katrina had been with them for three days and was still moping around. The house was crowded and having two women in the kitchen, even one as spacious as this one was one too many. Katrina couldn't cook to save her life. She was trying to help but Steph realised that everyone had their set way of doing things.

The irony was that whereas Katrina always looked smart and coiffured, against Steph's unruly hair and the baggy, comfortable clothes, when it came to untidiness, Katrina was Queen. It was bad enough around the house. She brought personal items from her room, plus magazines and newspapers, leaving them wherever she last sat, or even on the floor. Steph, being ultra-tidy, became quickly irritated, and followed her sister around, like she did with the children, picking up items up and either putting them in their correct places or leaving in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, so the owners would take them back to their rooms.

If Katrina attempted to make a meal when her family were out of the house they returned to chaos. Even toast and a mug of tea resulted in crumbs around the toaster, on the floor and a trail of crumbs and blobs of marmalade into the living room. Katrina didn't use a plate for her toast and marmalade. Then the used teabag would be left on the work surface for the pixies to throw away. The mug joined half a dozen of its friends in various places downstairs and in her room. The one good thing was that as Katrina didn't have butter there wasn't a pack warming up in the kitchen during the day.

That was bad enough, but when Steph was making a meal in the kitchen, Katrina would wander in to ostensibly 'help'. Being unable to even boil and egg without boiling the pan dry because, 'I forgot I had put it on,' Steph became ratty when her sister materialised in the kitchen.

After three days Katrina was still listless. Her constant presence was putting a strain on her sister's relationship with Stuart. He and Steph felt uncomfortable in bed at night, and Stuart was becoming increasingly frustrated when if he tried to make love to his wife she'd say, 'Katrina might hear.'

'For goodness sake. When is she going back home?' He whispered to her in bed that night.

'I don't know. I don't want to send her home while she's in this depressed state.'

'Steph, I'm fond of your sister, in a brother-in-law way,' he hastened to add, 'but I can't relax. All I see is a melancholy woman and it's getting us all down. Even the children realise the atmosphere is not a happy one.'

Steph thought for a few minutes then said, 'OK, I'll have a word with her and suggest again that she goes out with some of her friends. Maybe Jenny can help. I'll phone her and ask her to invite Katrina out for a couple of drinks.' Steph felt she'd never manage to have a week off work, at home on her own.

Two weeks later, Jenny had coaxed her friend out of the house a few times. The first couple of times they had been for a meal and to the local cinema. Katrina was emerging from her lethargy, and both Steph and Stuart hoped she'd soon go home. When Katrina started taking interest in her appearance again they breathed a sigh of relief.

While her sister was out with friends, Steph answered the phone one Saturday morning. Mrs. Scollop, Vera's neighbour told her Vera hadn't taken in her milk the day before. She'd only arrived home from respite care a few days before and Vera was already causing concern.

It was about time her mother did her bit, decided Steph. She lived five minutes away from Vera. Several minutes later after searching around the house, Steph found the cordless phone under a cushion on the settee. Cecily answered the phone almost before it had time to ring. On hearing her daughter's voice she demanded to know if Steph knew where her father was.

'Hello Mum, nice to talk to you,' Steph said. The sarcasm was lost on her mother.

'That man has no consideration for my feelings. After all I've done. I've had to make every penny go a long way because he wasn't capable of getting promoted. He's a dead loss.'

Having been biting her tongue during this defamation of her father, Steph managed not to allow her mother to wind her up to having a row. 'Mum, Vera went home a few of days ago and this morning the neighbour, Mrs. Scollop, said yesterday's milk hadn't been taken in.'

'And what am I supposed to do about it? I have a life too you know. If you're so bothered you go and see her.'

Despite herself, Steph bit, 'You're her daughter. The only one she has. I work and am raising a family and running a home. You don't do anything to help any of your family. It's all want, want, want. No wonder dad left you! He should have done so years ago and Katrina and I would have gone with him!'

In the silence that followed Steph considered that maybe she shouldn't have said what she'd been thinking all these years. But it was done now. Frankly, if her mother was upset she really didn't care. She waited, hearing her mother breathing irregularly.

'After all I've done for you. You were never like this. It's marrying that bastard that's done this to you. Why couldn't you marry someone decent who wasn't illegitimate? Oh no, you had to shame me.'

'Mother, Stuart is a good man and a great husband and father and I'm sick of you insulting him. I've had enough of you and your pretentious and bigoted ways. I will go and see Vera since you can't be bothered, and don't contact me or my family ever again. I've no wish to see you.' Steph ended her sentence by turning the phone off. How she wished it was one of the old-fashioned phones with the receiver so she could have slammed it down, as if she was banging the handset onto her mother's head.

Making coffee helped to clear the anger away. She'd drink the coffee then drive over to Vera's. The phone ran. Half hoping it was her mother so she could have another go at her, she heard Katrina's voice.

'Steph, Mum's been on the phone. She was upset. What's happened?'

'Upset? She only knows how to be upset that her eldest daughter married a lovely decent man who happens to have parents who aren't married. Or that her colour television is an inch smaller than the neighbours'. Or that she has a husband who has finally been courageous enough to pack up and go. But is she at all worried that her own mother may be ill again? No. Anyway, I've told her that I never want to see her again. I wouldn't have thought that would bother her as she rarely sees me or her grandchildren anyway!

'Whoa Sis, calm down. I know Mum is a complete cow but did you say Gran's ill?'

'I don't know. Mrs. Scollop rang to say the milk is still on the step from yesterday. I rang Mum to ask her to pop round, but she wouldn't.'

'OK, I will. Stay there and I'll ring you when I know what's happening.'

'Thanks Katrina.'

Steph drank her coffee and waited for the call from Katrina.

Twenty minutes later the phone rang again. Steph hoped Vera was OK. Maybe she'd just forgotten to take in the milk. If she still had some in the fridge it might not dawn on her to fetch in a bottle.

'Steph! Is that you Steph?' Just what she needed, Ruth's dulcet tones.

'Hello Ruth.'

'I'm glad you're home. So, you're not doing anything. I need you here. Two radiographers haven't come in. Get here as soon as you can.'

Steph couldn't believe it. Ruth had put the phone down without waiting for a response from Steph. Typical. Ruth and Cecily must have been made from the same mould. Steph wasn't going. Firstly, she deserved a day off and secondly, she had to sort out Vera.

She rang the hospital and left a message with the receptionist to pass onto Ruth. The message was that Steph's grandmother was ill and Steph couldn't go in to cover. She certainly wasn't going to speak directly with the dragon.

'Steph, Vera's had another fall. I think she's been lying on the kitchen floor for over twenty-four hours. She's on her way to hospital. St.Swithins. I'm going there now. The neighbour has agreed to have those horrible little dogs.'

'I'll meet you there. See you soon.'

Steph returned home in the late afternoon. The sun blinded her when she left the hospital. The car was too hot for comfort and the air conditioning wasn't working. In accordance with hospital policy she'd turned off her mobile. Sitting in the baking car she saw there were seven missed calls. Scrolling through she realised they were all from Ruth. There were five voice mail messages too. She didn't intend to listen to them if they were all from her obnoxious manager. Damn. Maybe she hadn't received the message. Never mind. Steph had far more important things to worry about.

The house, too, was hot. Opening the windows helped slightly. When Stuart had drawn up the plans for the house he'd persuaded Steph that air conditioning was essential. Thinking it was an extravagance, Steph had resisted, but Stuart installed it anyway. Today Steph was grateful. Within only a few minutes cool air helped calm her.

Tomorrow, she and Stuart would need to sort out somewhere suitable for Vera to live. She was recovering from her fall but would not be able to live alone. The house would need to be cleared out and keys returned to the housing department. Her long anticipated week off, whenever it was, would be spent throwing rubbish away and arranging for the furniture to be taken to the tip.

Deciding to inform Stuart about Vera, her hand was just about to pick up the receiver when it rang.

'Steph! Why aren't you here? I've left messages on both your home phone and mobile. You agreed to come into work and you haven't. You are letting your colleagues and patients down. Come in now or you will be taken through the disciplinary procedure.'

A groan escaped from Steph's lips. Bloody woman. 'I didn't agree. I didn't have a chance to say anything before you disconnected the call. I can't come in. My grandmother has been taken to hospital. I can't come in.'

Waiting for Ruth's response, Steph waited for an explosion. Nothing. The line was dead.

Steph didn't know if her manager had heard anything of what she said. She had enough on her plate without more aggro from the Wicked Witch of the West: A shaky elderly grandmother; an insensitive mother; an unhappy father and sister; a sad husband and now a revengeful manager.

After ringing her husband with the news about Vera, she left another message for Ruth, then arranged to see The Oaks, Residential Home for the Elderly. She would go herself the next day, have a look around and see several others then make a decision. As her mother didn't care and Katrina had enough problems of her own, she'd sort it all out with Stuart's help.

She and Stuart considered the three homes she'd seen. She didn't want Vera to go to any of them, but Vera would be safer there than at home. She would also be fed and have clean clothes and be bathed. Steph's concern was the lack of stimulation. At each of the homes old people, most slouching in arm chairs, stared into the distance. The smell of disinfectant everywhere caught in her throat. Every common room had a flat screen TV with day time programmes blaring. If any of the elderly people were bothering to watch, they had no choice of the programme. Presumably the day the TV was installed, a channel had been selected and that was it; Channel 4 for evermore.

'I asked about entertainment and they all claimed that there are activities for residents also that they take them out in a minibus sometimes,' Steph said.

'What type of activities?' Stuart asked.

'Well, one of the homes said they took half a dozen out to a garden centre for tea and cakes in the cafe and to a nearby nature reserve. It doesn't sound desperately exciting. Another said there is a craft session every Tuesday in the dining room. Seems the old dears can make greetings cards, decorate hats for Easter and make paper chains for Christmas.'

'Blimey, really exciting.

'Yes, and all three said a retired chap brings his Bon Tempi organ to play so that everyone can sing Vera Lynn and war time tunes.'

'So, if you and I are in a home, will we be singing eighties songs, or will it still be first and second world war tunes?' mused Stuart. 'Anyway, have you been able to find a suitable home from those three or do we need to continue looking?'

Steph was amused with the Royal 'We'. She'd done it all so far. 'I think that the best of the three is Evergreen out at Stourpen. All rooms are en-suite. A hairdresser visits fortnightly and stays all day. It's situated in the same road as a doctor's surgery, but the Co-op funeral parlour is also in the same road! But I doubt that any of the residents are aware of that. Also, it is the only one with a room free. Unbelievably, the manager told me that We're 'lucky' someone died two days ago so a room is vacant. The Oaks is building an extension and will have rooms available in seven weeks. but I prefer Evergreen.'

Stuart swirled his whisky around in the crystal glass. 'Do you need help moving her?'

'No, I'll be fine thanks. I don't know when she'll be ready to leave hospital but I packed a bag with enough clothes and toiletries to start her off. She's allowed to take a few items of furniture, so maybe you can help me choose a few small pieces and move them in a week or so.'

'No problem. We can look at taking some photos and ornaments that she might like later.'

'You know,' Steph said, 'it's brought it home to me what it's like to be old and having other people make decisions for you. Vera won't like it in the home but we feel it's the best for her. If we gave her the choice she wouldn't go, but then we'd have the worry about her not eating properly and falling again.' And my bloody mother doesn't care, but I bet she'll expect me and Katrina to put our lives on hold for her. Well, she's another think coming. She can rot for all I care.

Chapter 19 – The pager

It was 2.15. on a busy Sunday morning and Steph and Jayne were still trying to get through the on-going list of drunks who had managed to walk into lamp posts, get involved in fights or fallen under cars. This was only Jayne's third shift after returning from maternity leave. She'd have preferred not to do night shifts for a few more months as Emma was not sleeping through the night at five months old and Jayne was tired all the time. but Ruth had called her in and made it clear to Jayne that if she didn't turn up to cover Ruth would make life difficult. Jayne was seething but Ruth was bullying and threatening as usual.

Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest, particularly in a vibrant city like theirs. Jayne had come on at 9 pm and Steph had been on duty since 9 am and should have gone to bed a few hours earlier, but they were a radiographer short, due to illness, and a replacement hadn't been found. Steph couldn't leave Jayne to deal with everything. Just as they thought it couldn't get worse they were told there had been a serious accident involving an articulated lorry and seven cars on the motorway, and some of the injured were being sent to Steph's hospital, and others to nearby hospitals.

'I'm just going to phone the boss that she's going to have to call some more radiographers in,' said Jayne.

When recruiting radiographers, the superintendent had an unofficial preference for applicants who lived within half hour travelling distance, so that when major events occurred, such as multi-vehicle road accidents, terrorist bombings or mass shootings, stabbings or large-scale sports injuries, similar to the Heysel Stadium disaster in Brussels, and the Hillsborough disaster where many people were killed and hundreds of people were injured, then off-duty radiographers can be called in to help.

That is the idea, but if they're being called in on their day off, some can't attend because they have been drinking, or are at a family event such as a child's school play. Others because they're miles away at an event or visiting relations, and some may well be home, but are either so tired they don't want to come in, or just can't face returning to work so quickly.

Steph and Jayne desperately hoped someone would agree to come in, although everyone contacted would be in bed, so would be still a bit groggy when they arrived.

'The first five have arrived in A&E,' Jayne said, replacing the phone. 'It seems that in one of the cars there were eight students returning from a night out.'

'Eight in one car?' asked Steph.

'Yes. The nurse in A&E who rang through said that there were two young children in the front passenger seat and five teenagers in the back of a Renault Clio and that all adults, including the driver, had been drinking.'

'Silly idiots. I hope when my kids grow up that they won't accept a lift in a car with a drunk driver,' Steph said.

'The nurse said that the two front child passengers weren't wearing seatbelts and went through the windscreen. They're dead. Their family don't know yet.' Jayne replied.

'How sad.'

For the next three hours, the two women took images of broken arms and legs, a skull and a crushed chest, caused by the steering wheel due to the driver not wearing a seat belt. The car was so old it hadn't any air bags. An off-duty radiographer came in but had to spend most of the time in theatre for emergency operations. To add to the list of patients were three drunks who had managed to fall down an embankment, ending up on the hard shoulder of the motorway. Two had lain on the tarmac, groaning, whereas the third, disorientated from the overload of alcohol and cannabis, wandered across the first two lanes of the busy motorway, resulting in lorries swerving to avoid him. When the police arrived, having been phoned by over thirty concerned drivers, they hauled the suicidal drunk to the hard shoulder, stuffed him into the rear of the police car, and called ambulances. Luckily, the soon to be hospitalized trio had chosen to end their night out falling near the off ramp off the motorway, so were saved from certain death by junction lighting.

It was 6 a.m. before Steph crawled into bed in the on-call room. She was too tired to open her bag and wash or clean her teeth. She lay down expecting to sleep immediately. Half an hour later she was still awake, visions of the awful accident having killed and injured so many people. Surely after twelve years she'd have become immune to the range of injuries she saw daily. Finally, she fell into a deep sleep shortly after seven.

Jayne finished her coffee and threw the polystyrene cup into the overflowing swing bin. It had been hours since she'd had a drink, but her shift was due to finish at nine, in nearly an hour. The number of suspected broken bodies had slowed after Steph went to bed, and there hadn't been any further patients since just after eight. Jayne returned to the X-ray department, hoping for a quiet final fifty minutes until the end of her shift. Then another two Radiographers would come on, and Jayne and Steph could go home.

Unfortunately, her hopes were short lived. At 8.20, eight people were sent through from A&E. They had been involved in an accident on the way to work. Two were a motorcyclist and his pillion passenger who had collided with a car driven by a mother and her two children on the way to school. Then probably because they were 'rubber necking' another two cars carrying a total of three people crashed on the other carriageway. All eight needed attention, and the pillion had a suspected broken collar bone, a common injury with motorcyclists.

'Why have they all been sent here? Couldn't some have gone over to other hospitals?' Jayne asked her manager who had phoned to warn her.

'There are only eight, I'm sure you and Steph Kerris can cope,' was the blithe reply.

'Damn, damn, damn,' breathed Jayne as she put the phone down. Before she could undertake another X-ray, the phone rang, with a nurse from A&E asking why the radiographer was being so slow. Being told that Jayne was on her own was irrelevant. The nurses, to be fair, were being pressurised by the doctors. The only thing to do was to have Steph paged.

Fifteen minutes later there was no sign of Steph. It should have taken her under ten minutes to get dressed and come down from the on-call room. The nurse had phoned again demanding sight of the X-rays.

Jayne rang through again, 'Did you page Steph Kerris?'

'Yes love, I paged her as soon as you asked.'

'Well can you page her again please, it's urgent.' Jayne called the next patient in. The phone rang and she dashed to pick up the call.

'We've paged her but she's not replying,' the administrator said.

'Well can you send someone to knock on the door, it's urgent,' Jayne asked. She'd X-rayed three of the eight people when the 9 o'clock shift came on. She felt it only fair she stayed to help, but was immensely annoyed at Steph not having come down. It was out of character but she must have been too tired and not heard the alarm call.

Jayne finally left at 9.50 and Steph still hadn't turned up. She must have gone straight home. Jayne was peeved.

At 10.30 the cleaner knew that all the on-call rooms should be vacant. She'd give them a quick clean and change the bedding of any that had been used. Unlocking the door of room number one, she noticed the curtains hadn't been opened. The light streamed in when the curtains were pulled open, the metals hoops clanging on the rail.

'What!!' shouted someone, making the cleaner jump. Turning around quickly she saw a woman in bed, who was holding a hand up to her eyes, blinking in the sunlight.

'Oh, my Gawd, you frightened me half to death,' the cleaner said. Steph pulled herself up in bed, still blinking.

'Gloria, you frightened me too. What time is it?'

'Just after half past ten love,' Gloria replied. 'You should have got up and hour and a half ago. You've overslept.'

'I thought someone would have paged me to wake me up,' Steph moaned. 'I must go home.'

'I'll come back in a bit,' the cleaner said, and left the room. Steph dressed quickly, splashing water on her face from the corner small wash basin. She felt groggy after only having a couple hours sleep but needing far more. Leaving the hospital, she sent Jayne a text, asking how busy had it been after she went to bed.

'Where were u? we paged u but u didnt come down.' was the response by text.

'I wasnt paged honest i just woke up,' she replied.

'u were paged 3 times and someone knocked the door,' Jayne replied.

Steph felt dreadful. She hadn't heard a thing. She rang through to the administrator whose job was to page medical staff.

'It's Steph Kerris. I was in one of the on-call rooms last night and was paged but I don't think the pager was working. I didn't hear it.'

'OK, I'll check the pager, but we also knocked on your door. Loudly.'

'I didn't hear that either. Which door were you knocking on?'

'Room 2.'

'Ah,' Steph replied, 'I was in room 1.'

'That explains that then. I'll check the anyway.'

When she reached the car, she rang Jayne's mobile. 'Jayne, I'm so sorry but I didn't hear the pager. They're checking it. Also, they were knocking on the wrong door. I was in room 1 and they were knocking on room 2.'

There was silence the other end of the phone. Steph could hear Jayne breathing.

'That's OK Steph. I must admit I was a bit upset. I had eight patients all at once, A&E were nagging me and I needed help, but I did think it odd you didn't come in to help.'

'Well, thanks and I'm sorry. They're going to check the pager, I'll see you on Monday, ok?'

'OK Steph, have a good day off. Sorry I was a bit off with you, we're both tired,' Jayne replied.

'Yes, I'm still tired so I'm going to have forty winks as soon as I reach home. 'Bye' said Steph.

Stuart's car wasn't on the drive when she reached home. A note from him on the kitchen counter said, 'Taken kids to zoo so you can sleep. Love S xx.' Minutes later she was fast asleep.

Stumbling through layers of sleep, Steph was aware that something had awoken her. She didn't know what. Then she realised it was the phone. Her eyes felt gritty and sore. She rubbed her eyes as she lifted the receiver.

'Steph, it's Ruth. I've had a report that you were repeatedly paged this morning, and your door was knocked but you refused to help in X-ray. Don't interrupt me. I will see you tomorrow afternoon, at 3.00 for a disciplinary meeting. Don't be late!' With that, before Steph could defend herself, the connection was severed. What a nerve, Steph thought. She's a known bully and management turn a blind eye to it. But if she thinks she can bully me she has another think coming. Glancing at the clock she saw it wasn't yet eleven. She felt she was never going to get any decent sleep at this rate. Turning over, she resolutely closed her eyes and attempted to return to sleep.

The toilet flushing and the shower awoke her again. Glancing blearily at the clock she saw it was now 11.50. Surely her family weren't back yet? A day at the zoo meant they wouldn't normally be back until mid to late afternoon. And no-one took showers this late in the morning.

A fleeting though flashed through her brain, before being abandoned for its stupidity. No, a burglar wouldn't take a shower. Then, of course, it must be Katrina. Steph had forgotten her sister was staying.

Steph got out of bed and put on a dressing gown on, she decided to make herself something to eat and see if Katrina wanted to join her. There was little point in trying to gain more sleep. Katrina was not known for creeping around.

Downstairs was quiet. Katrina would be drying herself and doing her hair. Steph couldn't be bothered with all that fuss. but, she thought, that's why we look so different. Katrina is always smart, poised and stunning. I'm dowdy, frumpy and forgettable.

She made two lattes and thought it would be good to sit on the chair and chat, so took them up to Katrina's room. She knocked lightly on the door and assuming she could walk in as usual, pushed the door open. Seconds later, both coffees had fallen to the floor, a lake of beige coloured milk seeping into the carpet and forming a lake on the pink flooring.

Shocked, Steph rushed out, the door ajar behind her, leaving the stranger standing stark naked, towelling his back while Katrina lay equally naked on the bed, gathering her wits after her sister's sudden appearance then disappearance.

The man turned to Katrina and said, 'Who's that? Surely not your mother?'

'Oh shit,' she said. 'Stay here. I'll be back in a minute.'

Downstairs Steph was shaking with rage. How dare she bring someone like that to her house. What if one of the children had walked in? Leaning against the sink, because even her legs were trembling with anger, she heard quick but light footsteps on the stairs, alerting her to someone, probably Katrina, descending.

Aware that Katrina was behind, she couldn't speak.

'Steph,' Katrina whispered. 'I'm sorry. If I had known you were going to come in I would have told him to cover himself up.'

Steph couldn't believe her ears. Her slut of a sister wasn't apologising for bringing a man home, just for him being seen naked. Slowly, trying to form the most appropriate words, even though her throat felt frozen, incandescent with rage, she turned to look at her sister. For a few moments they looked at each other, neither speaking. Then Steph, the anger having built up inside her, exploded; pent up outrage issued forth. A torrent of malignant verbal wrath rushed across the room towards Katrina. Such was the force that she took a couple of steps back into the hall. Steph followed her, closing the gap.

'How DARE you? How could you possibly think it's all right to bring one of your one-night stands home. To MY home. HOW DARE you! What if Jake or Gemma had rushed into your room as they often do, to join you in bed? What impression do you think that would have had on them? I just can't believe you did this. I bet you don't even know his name.'

Taken aback by the invective Katrina backed up against the door of the cupboard under the stairs.

Gulping, she said in a small voice, 'I'm sorry. I was so drunk last night I didn't think.'

'That's just it. You don't think. You never think. Everyone has always done the thinking for you. "Poor Katrina, she's so pretty but has had such bad luck with men. They always treat her badly." Don't you ever think about other people's feelings? How could you think you could bring him into our home and it would be acceptable? Does Stuart know?' Steph hissed at her.

'No, everyone was in bed when I got home. I really didn't mean to do it, I just didn't think.' Katrina pleaded.

'Well, you will have plenty of time to think while you pack your bags and go. Tell him to get out now too. I want you gone in half an hour.'

Hearing a throat being cleared they both turned to see the man standing on the bottom step of the stairs, now thankfully dressed.

He addressed Steph, 'Oh, hi. I heard voices. I'm so sorry that you didn't know I was here. I'll leave now.'

He sidled to the front door, opened it, then quietly closed it behind him. The two women looked at each other. Steph could feel her fury diminishing. Katrina looked intimidated and humiliated and was that repentance?

'I'm sorry. So sorry. It's as if I've a self-destruct button. It's set off by unhappiness and alcohol,' Katrina said. 'I don't have any self-control when I'm sad and have been drinking.' She continued to plead with her eyes to her sister. 'I know I'm a bad and pathetic creature and I don't deserve you or your family. I'll go now.'

Watching her treading slowly up the stairs Steph saw the hunched shoulders and defeated attitude of her sister. The residue of her anger dropped away. She felt tired and spent. It was bad enough that Stuart and his mother were on the road to becoming permanently estranged and her father had left her mother and she'd be happy to never see her mother again. Her family was in danger of collapse. Did she want this additional angst?

'Wait,' she said.

Katrina turned around. They looked each other in the eyes. Tears were slowly making tracks down Katrina's cheeks. Steph still felt hot and the first hint of a headache was becoming apparent in her temples and the bridge of her nose. Her anger, she realised, had evaporated.

'I'm sorry too,' said Steph. 'I didn't mean all those horrid things I said. Come back down.'

Katrina, sniffing softly, came down the stairs to Steph who was waiting at the bottom with open arms. They hugged and cried together.

'I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you and the children,' Katrina said.

'Let's have a coffee and sit down and talk,' Steph suggested.

Later, coffee drunk and tears dried the sisters reminisced about their childhood and teenage years. Katrina told Steph how much she'd admired her when she was young.

'You admired me?' said Steph disbelieving. 'What was there to admire in me?'

'Of course, I admired and looked up to you,' Katrina replied. 'You were always so calm and collected. You didn't get into scrapes and didn't go from one boy to the next like a kid in a sweet shop.'

'But it was always you who had a boyfriend. The few I had you usually pinched off me,' retorted Steph.

'Don't you know why?' Katrina asked.

'Because you wanted everything I had, clothes, make up and boys,' said Steph.

'True, but it was because your boyfriends were really nice guys. Not like the dross I went out with, and still do. Why can't I find someone decent like Stuart?' wailed Katrina.

'You will never find a lovely dependable chap like Stuart while you are sleeping around, getting drunk and making a fool of yourself,' said Steph.

Instead of the excuses Katrina usually came up with she sighed and said, 'I know. I need help.'

'The first thing to do is recognise that you have alcohol dependency,'

'I'm not dependent on it!' Katrina was stung.

'Yes, you are. How many days can you go without alcohol?'

'Days? I don't know.'

'So, there you are. I bet there isn't a single day goes by when you aren't drinking too much. Your liver will be pickled. It's bad for your liver, kidneys and heart and bad for the skin too.'

'Aha! There goes big sister. All my life you've been telling me off. But, you know what? I know now that you were, and are, right. What can I do to get on the right track? I want to be happy like you, with a husband and children,' Katrina asked her sister.

Steph looked at her. It seemed Katrina wasn't joking.

'Well, the first thing is crack the alcohol thing. Stop drinking. Yes, I know, it will be hard, very hard. Substitute something for alcohol. Try non-alcoholic drinks. Suck sweets, anything but stop drinking,' she advised. 'And curb your designer shoe and bag habit.'

'What, altogether? No alcohol and not buy yummy sexy shoes?' Katrina was shocked.

'I really do think that you should stop totally, then a few months down the line see if you can have the odd drink without binging again,' Steph said. 'Or how about going to AA?'

'No way! I'm not an alcoholic. I don't want to sit down with loads of winos and tell them I'm an alcoholic and listen to their sad pathetic stories!'

'OK, so do it this way. I'll help by not having my nightly glass of wine.' Her sister didn't say it, but Steph's nightly 'glass' of wine was often half a bottle. Usually Katrina would have retaliated and challenged her sister but felt she was not currently in a position to do so, if she wanted to stay in Steph's present good, or more accurately luke-warm humour.

Katrina picked up on the hint.' So, does that mean I can stay a little longer?'

Steph studied her. 'Yes, but no more bringing men home and NO alcohol. OK?'

'OK. I love you Steph.'

'I love you too you silly goose!' In their respective beds that night, both women realised they had reached a turning point in their relationship. Steph seriously doubted her sister would stay on the waggon. She couldn't possibly be able to lay off the wine, the shopping and the men. But, now she had discovered that she did love her sister, she was determined to keep her on the straight and narrow.

Chapter 20 – You can't bring a dog in here

'I'm popping off for lunch now. Anything you want me to bring back?' Melanie asked Steph and Rachel.

'I'd love a bar of chocolate,' Steph said.

'Ah, the munchies!' Mel teased. 'Any particular one?'

'No, anything, any chocolate, I love them all,' Steph laughed.

'What about you Rachel?' asked Mel.

The girl pondered. 'I'd love one of those double chocolate muffins. Let me get my purse.'

'It's OK, I'll have the money later.' Mel went off to the staff canteen. Her feet were killing her today. The shoes she normally wore for work had collapsed with wear. Hospital policy was that radiographers wore black, flat shoes. No peep toes or decoration. She'd made the common mistake of buying shoes the day before, and wearing them today without breaking them in.

Many female students experienced Ruth's wrath when they turned up on shift with brightly coloured high heels. Silly girls. Mel had X-rayed enough women's feet to know that by the time these girls were fifty they would have corns, disfigured toes, the start of painful bunions and aching feet. But Mel did wear high heels sometimes when she was out on a special evening. She kicked off her shoes under the staff canteen table and tucked into a jacket potato with chilli. The food wasn't inspiring, for if the hospital caterers couldn't produce tasty meals for their clients – the patients – what chance did the staff have of being offered sustenance that was well cooked and satisfying. Some nurses and radiographers brought in food they had prepared at home but it was a faff bringing in a packed lunch. Invariably she didn't want to eat what she'd prepared. What seemed like a tasty and nutritious snack at home before she left for her shift, became unappetising at break time.

When she returned to the department Steph would go for her break, then Rachel. Mel was on until midnight. By then she felt her feet would be unbearable. It would teach her a lesson.

It was a quiet shift for a change. There were fewer in-patients too. Today was a comparatively short shift for Steph, only nine to five. She had the horrible meeting with Ruth at three to look forward to. First thing this morning she'd confirmed that the on-call bleeper's battery had run down, and that they had been knocking on the wrong door. She knew she was blameless but Ruth would still try to intimidate her. Nagging at the back of her mind was the question as to how the superintendent found out she'd been paged. Jayne had been annoyed at her, but surely after their phone conversation during which Steph explained the reason for not turning out of bed to help, Jayne wouldn't have then reported her.

There were still no patients so she looked up the number in her mobile phone, then rang the union rep on the hospital phone. A few minutes later she was happier. The union rep said the superintendent couldn't undertake a disciplinary meeting at this stage. She should determine the facts then consider if there were sufficient grounds to take further action.

The rep said Ruth was a known bully, and recently had bullied an administrator to the extent the woman had a nervous breakdown. Those higher up were finally keeping an eye on Ruth and the rep thought that management hoped she'd fall and be able to be sacked. In the meantime, people like Steph were at her mercy.

Steph knew that with the evidence of the bleeper not working, and the wrong door being knocked, that there was nothing her manager could do. The rep had offered to accompany Steph into the meeting, but Steph felt that would make her appear weak. She was determined to sort this out herself but was feeling queasy about the forthcoming meeting.

By the time the meeting had ended, she'd have only a short time before she finished her shift. Thank goodness. Then she'd stop off at a supermarket on the way home and buy some popcorn. Tonight was a Friday night regular event in the Kerris household if Steph wasn't working. The children would have chosen a DVD that they and their mother could watch, and they would settle down at 6.30, after tea, to watch it together.

Stuart rarely joined them. He said he'd outgrown Disney-type films years ago. Steph did agree that some of the children's DVDs were boring for adults, but she was happy to watch Dumbo, Beethoven, Herbie and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe amongst others.

After tea the children would wash and get into their Pjs. If they started the film on time at 6.30 then the children could just brush their teeth when it finished, and be in bed just after eight, which was OK on a weekend night.

After yesterday's frank discussion with Katrina, she wondered if her sister would like to join them for film night. She'd ask her. The children would love her to join them. Instead of her customary glass of wine, Steph would drink lemonade, but only if Katrina was there. Not having a glass or three of wine each night was going to be painful, and Steph wondered if perhaps she also had become a little too dependent on alcohol.

While Mel was still away Steph heard a commotion in the waiting area, followed by several rings of the bell. People were shouting and a dog was barking. She walked through to see one of the receptionists shouting at a man who was holding the lead of what looked like a sheepdog.

Steph crossed the room and stood beyond the range of the dog's lead. Rachel stuck her head around the edge of the door to watch proceedings.

When the receptionist, Faith, saw her Steph said, 'I'm sorry Steph but this man insisted on bringing his dog in. I told him he can't bring it into the hospital but he won't take it away.'

The man, recognising someone in authority shouted, 'I need an X-ray and I don't see why I can't bring her in.'

Steph deduced 'her' was the dog. 'If you need an X-ray then can you arrange for someone to look after the dog for twenty minutes. She should be outside the hospital building while you are having your X-ray.'

The man looked at her as if she were speaking double-dutch. 'But I need the dog with me. She's the one who needs an X-ray.'

Steph and Faith looked at each other then Steph said, 'but Mr....?' looking towards the man.

'Harris, Bob Harris, and the dog is Mitzi.'

'Well Mr Harris, I'm the radiographer and but much as you may want me to X-ray her I'm not allowed to by hospital rules. This is a hospital for sick people, not animals. I suggest you take Mitzi to a vet.'

The man looked down at his dog, who was now lying by his feet. She didn't look ill, thought Steph.

'I think she's swallowed the wife's wedding ring. The wife comes home at 5.30 tonight and I need to know if it's in Mitz's stomach or if I have to keep searching. Also, I'm worried that if Mitzi has swallowed it she may become ill,' he gabbled, looking worried.

'I'm sorry, but I absolutely cannot X-ray your dog.' Steph told him. She then saw a rapid change in his demeanour. His worried expression disappeared, and his face started to go red.

'I pay my bloody taxes just like everyone else. I demand that you X-ray my dog. NOW!!!'

During this onslaught Steph had automatically taken a step back, unfortunately not far enough to avoid the spittle that flew out of the man's mouth and landed on the back of her hand. She hastily transferred it to the pocket of her scrubs. Yuk. His diatribe continued when Steph saw Mel coming into the waiting area.

She was holding various confectionaries including Steph's chocolate in her hand, and two polystyrene coffee cups on a tray in her other hand when she saw that something untoward was happening. Without saying anything she slipped into the X-ray room and phoned for the security personnel. Returning to the waiting area she saw that the man had altered his mood again. He started wheedling.

'I really need to know what has happened to the ring. My wife will kill me if she knows Mitzi has swallowed it. She's never liked her, and the feeling is mutual. Whenever the wife tries to go near me Mitzi growls at her. The wife says that if she causes any more trouble between us she'll have Mitzi put down when I'm at work one day. I love this dog so much. I couldn't cope without her.'

Tears were now rolling down his cheeks. The dog was leaning on his legs, looking up at him adoringly. It was a heart-wrenching sight.

'I've called security,' Mel whispered to Steph.

Steph nodded thanks at her, then said, 'Look Mr. Harris, I appreciate your need to find out if the ring is in Mitzi's stomach, but I'm sorry but there is absolutely nothing I can do. I'm not allowed.'

'Couldn't you just take a quick photo and we won't tell anyone,' he implored.

'I'm afraid that the days of taking X-rays without anyone knowing are gone.' Steph said. 'Everything in this hospital is digital, like a digital camera, but once it has been taken we cannot delete the image. One of my managers can look at it at any time and see that I've taken an X-ray of a dog. I would lose my job. Why don't you take her to a vet?'

'The vet doesn't open until 5.30. I need an X-ray NOW.' His voice had been rising during the last sentence, and the last word was shouted just as Tony and Steve the security men came in.

Steph could see that they might perceive the three women were in danger, while she felt the man wasn't violent, just frantic.

Holding up her hand to the security men she said, 'It's OK, this gentleman and I are talking.'

She turned back to Bob and asked, 'You're not going to attack us, are you?'

The man went pale, 'Of course not! I'm just at the end of my tether.' Looking sideways at the alarming presence in the form of two burly nightclub bouncer lookalikes, he said, 'If you can't help me then I'm done for.' He looked pathetic. Certainly not the potentially violent man Mel had thought she'd seen a couple of minutes before.

Mel said to everyone, 'Hold on a moment. Let me ring someone.' She turned to the two bored looking security men and handed them the coffees.

'Here, hold these a moment, and don't drink them!' she warned before disappearing into the staff room.

Steph could hear her talking to someone on the phone, but the words were indistinct. The security men were showing signs of irritation. They had been called to sort someone out and were now having to stand around holding food and drink as if they were guests at a W.I. tea party. The man looked worried again.

'Where's she gone? I don't know what to do,' he said. Almost as soon as he'd finished speaking Mel returned with a big grin on her face and a piece of paper in her hand.

'Right,' she said to the man, 'my friend's husband is a vet and she says his surgery is open all day today. If you go now they will see you as soon as you turn up. Incidentally, my friend said that dogs sometimes swallow rings and rarely do they cause a problem in medium and large dogs. In all likelihood the ring will just pass straight through.'

She handed him the piece of paper, smiled at him and said, 'Good luck.'

He thanked her and rushed out of the room. Rachel came out and joined the group. She appeared to be laughing.

Steph looked at the other four people, and said, 'Thanks. Sorry to call you two lads but we did think at one point he might be violent.'

'That's OK,' one said with a grin.

'It was quite entertaining,' the taller man said.

'Entertaining,' said Mel, 'what do you mean?'

For the first time since the man came in Faith piped up, 'I think he means that the dog has left a present on the floor!' At that she and the men laughed and pointed to a huge puddle.

'Oh well,' Steph sighed, 'at least it wasn't "the other".' Everybody laughed.

'What's all this? What was that man doing bringing a dog in here? Who's the senior on this shift?'

Steph and Mel inwardly groaned. What a time for the superintendent to turn up. Ruth looked around at everyone. Rachel retreated to the X-ray room. She found Ruth frightening and had decided not to apply should any radiographer positions become available in any of the hospitals in the group.

'Why are so many of you in here? Are you all waiting to have an X-ray taken?' Ruth demanded of the first security man.

'No love,' he replied. Ruth was taken aback. She wasn't used to being called 'love'. Turning to the administrator she asked her the same question. Unfortunately, the woman was not made of such stern stuff as the security man.

She blushed and managed a weak 'No'.

Happy that someone was cowed in her presence the bully turned to the second security man.

'And what about you? Do you have a good reason for being here?'

The man was plainly, in Steph's opinion, neither cowed nor amused by the woman facing him.

'Yes', he said.

'Yes? What do you mean by just "Yes?"' she spat at him.

'Yes. I've a good reason for being here,' he replied.

Steph could feel the tension between the two. Ruth was used to staff being in awe of her position. The security man obviously didn't give a fig for her 'position' and was showing it. Ruth was taking a deep breath to launch a further attack on this mere security man when she saw the puddle of urine on the floor. Her jaw dropped and her eyes popped open. For once she appeared to be speechless. Apart from the administrator, who was sidling out of the door, everyone was waiting with interest for the anticipated explosion. They weren't disappointed.

A couple of days later, when the two radiographers were telling the story to other medical staff at the wine bar, they found that the incident had travelled the grapevine via the security men. As is typical with Chinese whispers, the situation and the superintendent's reaction had been greatly exaggerated.

With the story going full circle back to Steph and Mel it had progressed to become that Ruth having marched into the waiting room and slipped on dog faeces and fallen flat on her face, and breaking her nose.

Rather naughtily, they decided to keep mum on the real facts, and joined in the hilarity.

In reality, Ruth had demanded to know how the puddle had got there. Before the radiographers could speak the security man put on a Geordie accent and started to tell a long rambling story. Steph knew he was just being irritating to the superintendent who kept trying to break the monologue, in vain. He just spoke over her. Finally, Ruth gave up, turned to Steph and said, 'Get that mess cleaned up. I came to remind you that you are due in my office at three o'clock – sharp!' Head high, she turned sharply on her three-inch heels and marched off.

Steph wasn't sure if she heard the peals of laughter that started seconds after she left.

Before going into the meeting with Ruth Steph collected two mobile phones from her locker. Outside the office she took them out of her pocket, pressed some buttons and put one in each pocket of her baggy trousers.

The meeting with Ruth soon after was short but definitely not sweet. Ruth had railed at her, bullying being intrinsic in her nature. She told Steph that she'd make her life a misery and ensure that Steph wasn't promoted. Also, that she'd put Steph on at all the Bank Holidays including Christmas Day. She was clearly expecting Steph to disintegrate into tears, a normal reaction by her other poor subordinates.

Steph, knowing the bully didn't have a leg to stand on, stood as she hadn't been invited to sit, and just looked at her manager, with a slight curve of her lips that was not quite a smile. This further angered Ruth. She was leaning forward over her desk. Her blonde hair swinging. Her eyes popping. Spittle forming at the corners of her mouth. Her over-made-up face contorted into an effigy of a gargoyle, or grotesque.

Steph was aware of someone laughing. Appalled, she realised it was her. She stopped and heard only silence. The Superintendent was staring at her open mouthed. Steph could see metal fillings.

She had an over-whelming urge to laugh again, so turned and bolted from the room.

'Steph, Ruth just phoned and she was apoplectic. She wants you to return to her office now. What happened?' Mel asked as Steph walked in with two doughnuts and two coffees.

I think I'm in trouble,' Steph replied, laughing.

'If you're in trouble, what's the joke?' Mel asked.

'I'll tell you later, but I'm not going back up there.'

'But you must, she demanded that you do,' protested Mel.

'She can demand all she likes, I'm going home in exactly seventeen minutes when my shift ends.'

'But Steph...'

'The woman is clearly deranged. We all know that the rumour is that she was promoted to get rid of her out of the department. With her fussy little designer suits, most of them black, and her designer shoes, she trips around the hospital, only rushing around to show how busy and important she is when senior management appear. Even they don't like her. How often is she ever invited to their Christmas festivities? Never. They try to make sure she doesn't get to know about them. Then there's her silly little black Mercedes sports car with a personalised number plate. Yes, it looks lovely, but she can't get to work in snowy weather because it is rear wheel drive. If anyone else can't reach work in appalling weather she tells them off. She's an all-out bitch and a bully. Stacey went to the same school as her. Not the same class but said she was a bully to the other girls. Well, she's not bullying me.' Steph felt almost exhausted after this outpouring of hatred for her manager.

Mel stared at her. 'What's got into you?'

'She has,' Steph replied. 'After being accused of lying about the bleeper not working and about them not knocking on the right door, then that ludicrous charade with the dog, I really feel she's totally off her rocker. Anyway, I now have thirteen minutes left. As there aren't any patients I'll clean the equipment before I go.'

A few minutes later the phone rang. Steph knew, she just knew it was Ruth. Mel came in and they both looked at the phone.

Mel raised an eyebrow, 'Are we going to answer it?'

Steph was tickled by the royal 'We'. Both Stuart and Mel used it.

'If we don't answer it you will be in trouble as well as I. Are you happy to answer it and see if it is the Rottweiler while I plan what to say?

With trepidation Mel lifted the receiver, 'Hello, Imaging?' She despised herself for her shaky voice.

'Haven't you told Steph Kerris that I want to see her?' she shouted. Steph, standing next to Mel could hear her quite clearly.

Mel looked at Steph and mouthed, 'What shall I tell her?'

Steph took the handset from her. 'Hello, it's Steph here.'

'Why aren't you here in my office?' Ruth shouted.

'Because,' Steph said, 'I'm cleaning the equipment before I finish my shift.'

'I want you here, NOW!'

'Sorry, no can do. My shift finishes in one minute, at exactly five o'clock. 'Bye.'

Mel watched her friend as she replaced the handset. 'Oh - my - God. Are you going to be in trouble.'

'You know,' said Steph, 'I couldn't give a monkey's. See you next week.' And with that she walked out just as Darren, her replacement, walked in.

Katrina hadn't returned home when the film started at 6.45, but joined them on the settee at 7.15. The children squealed with excitement and jumped on their aunt. Steph had been longing for a lovely cold glass of Chablis, but had resisted in case Katrina came in. The pangs for wine continued and Steph wondered again if she too was becoming dependant on alcohol. It was a worrying thought. Trying to diet and avoid her favourite drink was very, very difficult, she felt.

Katrina had decided not to go out, as she knew she wouldn't be able to resist drinking too much or going home with a stranger.

Today was the first day of the rest of her life, and she was determined not to let down her sister, or herself. So, snuggled up with her niece and nephew, drinking coffee and eating popcorn, she found herself enjoying an evening in without alcohol for the first time in years.

Chapter 21 – The worm turns

The next morning Steph rang Lindy the union rep. She related the meeting with the superintendent, and said that she'd been summoned back, but had refused to go. The rep was concerned that hadn't been a wise move, but Steph stuck to her guns and said that Ruth had been out of control and didn't ask what had happened on-call, just let rip with unfounded accusations and threats.

The rep said, 'Were there any witnesses in her room?'

'No' said Steph, 'just the two of us.'

'Then I'm afraid it's your word against hers,' said the rep, regretfully.

'What if it had been recorded?' Steph asked.

'Do you mean on a tape recorder?' asked the rep.

'On a mobile phone.'

'You didn't?' squealed Lindy.

'I did. I recorded it on my mobile phone, and also phoned home with my husband's mobile to record onto the answering machine. That was my back up in case the phone recording failed,' Steph told her brightly.

'YES! Maybe we've finally got her!' shouted Lindy. 'Can I have a copy of the recording?'

'Sure, I've done one from the answering machine at home. I'll send it through internal post.'

'No, that's too risky. Someone might open it. When are you next in work?'

'Tomorrow.'

'OK,' said the rep. 'Ring me when you're going for break and I'll meet you for the handover. Is it a reasonable quality?'

'Oh yes, she was shouting so loud it's quite clear.'

'Steph, you're nuts but great too. We have been waiting for months to try to get something on this bitch after what she did to Linda before Ruth moved over to Imaging. We're sure Linda is telling the truth that Ruth told her how to complete the forms to claim extra funding, but once the claim was rejected and the funding was lost because Ruth told her incorrectly, that nasty bitch just keeps saying that Linda is a liar. Poor Linda. It was her word against that lying bitch and management believed Ruth at the investigation. We're longing to see that vile woman fall. Anyway, well done, see you tomorrow.'

'OK, see you,' Steph replied, then put the phone down, smiling. Her next task was to collect Vera from hospital and settle her into the home.

Three hours later Steph felt like crying. Vera, although she'd been told she'd be living in Evergreen, thought she was going home when Steph turned up at the hospital. Vera was unsteady on her feet, and confused. Also, for a change, she wasn't moaning at her grand-daughter or belittling her. Steph told her three times during the car journey, that Vera was going to live in the retirement home. Each time Vera said, 'Oh yes,' then asked again how long before they would reach her house. Steph had been warned that the drugs she was now taking could cause confusion.

Steph felt like a traitor, but the report from the hospital said that, in their opinion, Vera would be at risk on her own. Frankly, Steph felt she should have been settled into a retirement home a couple of years earlier.

Evergreen was a rambling stone building painted white. There were lawns to the sides and rear of the building and some large but tatty topiary animals each side of the entrance to the drive. The flower and shrub beds looked like they needed attention, with weeds growing in amongst them. Steph wondered if the lack of grounds maintenance was a reflection on the attention provided to the elderly residents. Just like when Richard Branson said that when customers see dirty trays during their flights on Virgin Airways, would they worry that other corners were being cut, such as aircraft maintenance.

She parked in front of the large wrought iron gates and lowered her window to press the intercom. A metallic voice told her to wait while the gates opened. On reaching the front door of the residential home and getting Vera out of the car, with help from some young care assistants, her grandmother asked where she was. The young girls must have had dementia awareness training and told her that she was on holiday. Vera replied that she didn't have the money to pay for such an expensive hotel, but one girl said that the Prime Minister was paying.

It was a very rare occurrence, but Vera's face lit up with a smile and she said, 'Now isn't that sweet of her? I shall write to Mrs Thatcher and tell her so. Maybe she's not as bad as they make her out to be.' She then quite happily allowed herself to be taken into the home. The girl who had said the PM was paying asked the other girl who Mrs. Thatcher was. A shrug of the shoulders was the response.

Steph smiled. She wondered if the girls knew that the current PM was David Cameron, and that the Iron Lady died some years ago.

The predominant smell was a mixture of disinfectant and plug-in air fresheners. It was catching at the back of Steph's throat and irritating her nose. If she felt like this then surely the residents and staff suffered too.

A walking frame with two small wheels was brought in by a care assistant and she helped Vera hold onto it. She then led Steph and Vera to a single room on the ground floor which was decorated with neutral colours. The en-suite with a shower stank of bleach and was spotless with a pull-down plastic seat. She wondered if Vera would allow anyone to bathe her. Steph put away the few things of Vera's she'd brought. There was a reasonable amount of storage, and a shelf and dressing table for photographs and mementoes. Then one of the carers greeted Vera heartily and said she was just in time for tea.

Steph saw her settled at a table with two other elderly ladies and a small, wizened old man who had a hearing aid in each ear. One of the women had some bottom dentures in her hand, and gave Vera a gummy smile then asked Steph to take her to the toilet. Steph called a carer who helped the old lady away from the table. The other elderly lady addressed Vera as 'Gladys' and asked if she'd enjoyed her bath. Vera was already confused and the incidents during the past few minutes did nothing to dispel her bewilderment.

Steph's last view of her grandmother was sitting at the table, looking bemused. Was she doing the right thing she asked herself. She told the manager that she'd return the next day with a few more of Vera's belongings. Reaching her car, she enjoyed some deep breaths of fresh air, then got into the car to go home. During the short journey she vacillated between guilt at having torn her grandmother away from the home she'd lived in for years and common sense that a disaster would be in the making if Vera remained in her own house. Of the many possibilities flitting through Steph's mind, the risk of her grandmother setting alight to herself and the house was foremost.

She decided the deed was now done, and assured herself that Vera would be safe and well fed in the home.

Since the naked man in the bedroom incident, which neither of the sisters had mentioned again, Katrina had, in her sister's words, behaved herself beautifully. Every evening since, whether Steph was home or not, Katrina had attempted to cook an edible meal for the children. She'd never bothered to learn to cook, having relied on takeaways, warming up ready meals, or eating out. This afternoon the children had asked if they could have fish and chips as mummy didn't cook any more, and they didn't like Aunty Katrina's cooking. Unfortunately, their aunt had heard and was upset.

Steph hastened to assure her that her cooking had improved, slightly she said to herself, and wondered if Katrina would like to go to a cookery school for her birthday? At first Katrina was a little put out, but when her sister told her there might be men on the course she'd agreed.

Katrina had done the washing and ironing too. Those she could do reasonably well. No mean feat with three adults and two children. More importantly, Steph thought, Katrina had stayed home at night and seemed to be managing on only half a bottle of wine each evening. Yes, that was still too much, but for a week Katrina had stayed sober and not brought any strange men into the house.

Steph felt it couldn't last. Katrina had always been spoilt and it was a new, alien experience looking after other people's needs.

Everyone had just sat down at the dining table to their fish, chips and mushy peas when the phone rang. Each adult looked at another, wondering who the call was for. No-one wanted to answer the phone and let their dinner go cold.

'Let it go to answer,' said Steph. A few minutes later it rang again.

'I bet it's the phone company trying to get us to go back to them again,' said Stuart. They ignored it and carried on eating and chatting.

'I hate that,' said Katrina. 'I'm watching a DVD, or in the bath and the phone goes. I jump up to answer it and it's dead! When I do 1471 it's one of the numbers our phone provider uses. It is SO irritating! Why do they phone and not leave it long enough to get it?' she demanded.

Putting his knife and fork together on the plate, Stuart looked at her and said, 'It's computer generated. The computer will contact several phone numbers at once and once the first one is answered, all the other phones are disconnected. What's happening with you is that by the time you get to the phone it's too late. Somebody else has answered.'

'So that's why,' Katrina said. 'I've even told them not to phone me but they still do. I went onto the telephone preference service web site and put my details in to stop unsolicited calls, but they still rang. I told the woman that she was contravening my privacy and told her about registering with the web site and do you know what she said?'

'What?' asked Steph.

'She said that it didn't apply to a company that I was already contracted with! Meaning them! How cheeky and annoying is that?' she lamented.

'I know. We want peace at night and these companies, such as PPI and accident claim call centres keep pestering us,' agreed Steph.

On cue, the phone rang again. Fired up with annoyance Steph picked up the phone and without waiting to hear who was on the other end, shouted, 'Just go away! We're sick to death of you pestering us.'

The others watching, saw her face contort.

She rolled her eyes and said, 'Sorry Mum. Didn't realise it was you. Some nerd has been phoning constantly for the last few minutes... oh, it was you. Sorry. We were eating. No, he's not here. Yes, he did stay for a couple of days but has moved on.'

Everyone watched her. Steph rolled her eyes at them again and pulled more faces.

'No, I don't know where he is Mum. He's a grown man. He can make his own mind up where he goes.'

A tinny voice could be heard from the earpiece.

'All right, I'll ask her.'

Turning to Katrina, Steph asked loudly, 'Katrina, have you any idea where Dad is?'

Katrina replied, also loudly, 'No, I've no idea. Why doesn't Mum phone him?'

Before Steph could ask the question her mother snapped that she'd heard. Of course, she'd tried to phone his mobile but he wasn't answering her calls. After a few more minutes of denying that she knew where her father was, Steph managed to terminate the call.

The children had become fidgety and gone to their rooms, leaving bits of fish, chips and mushy peas on the table, and tomato ketchup on the floor.

Throwing herself back onto the dining room chair, their mum said, 'That woman. I don't know, firstly, why Dad ever married her and secondly, why he stayed with her so long. I know it's awful, but I do wish I had someone else for a mother. If I never saw her again it would be too soon.'

No-one looked shocked. Her sister and husband concurred.

'Where is he really?' asked Stuart.

'Dad's staying in a B and B just on the edge of the town centre, until that flat he looked at is ready. It has a second bedroom so he can have the children overnight sometimes. Means we can have a night out without babysitters. That will be great.' The phone rang again.

Steph reached over and snatched it up, 'Mother, I don't know where he is,' she lied again. 'Oh, sorry.' She listened before replying, 'No, I don't want to see how I can save money by taking on more of your services and spending more money. Will you stop phoning me!' She slammed the phone down and she said, 'Them, the phone company!'

After the dishwasher was filled and turned on and the children in bed, the three adults settled down for a chat and a drink. They were disturbed by the phone ringing again.

'Oh, for goodness sake!' Steph said. She stretched her arm and picked up the handset.

'What?' she said into the mouthpiece, irritation evident.

'Mum, are you ringing about Dad again? Why can't you leave the poor man alone?'

The tinny sound started again, faster and louder than previously. Pulling faces, Steph held the phone above her head, so the other two could hear Cecily. After a minute or so she returned the phone to her ear and said, 'Calm down will you? He's not here. Come and look for yourself. Anyway, I'm sure you will be interested that I took Vera to Evergreen this morning. She has a lovely room and should be well looked after.'

More tinny noise ensued.

'For goodness sake Mum, a residential home is the best place for her. She'll be fed, bathed, have clean clothes, be safe and have company.'

Steph started rolling her eyes. Katrina was muffling laughter.

Steph pressed a key on the phone so it was on loud speaker.

'I can't believe you're dumping my mother into a home,' shouted Cecily. 'Poor Mum, she deserves better.'

'If you're so worried about her welfare then she can go and live with you. I'll bring her around in the morning,' replied Steph, with annoyance.

'You're not dumping the old curmudgeon on me!' shouted Cecily.

'Hang on, it was "poor Mum" a second ago. It's poor Mum when you want me to take her in, but she becomes a curmudgeon when I suggest you take her!'

'And who's paying?' demanded Cecily.

'She has a little in the bank and the sale of her house will cover her costs for a few years.'

'You can't use the house to pay for her to stay in the home, I'm supposed to inherit it!' Cecily sounded livid.

'OK,' said Steph, 'you take her in.'

'No fear, the old bag could live to 100.'

Steph sighed loudly, and on purpose to annoy her mother. 'You have one week to make up your mind. You either take her into your home and look after her around the clock. There won't be any need to sell the house then. Or you leave her in the home and the house goes on the market. I know you aren't bothered about your own mother's welfare. If you were you would have visited her more than twice a year. You've never been to see her while she was in hospital. So, you have until a week today to sort out your house to make it suitable for Vera. Now Dad's gone you might enjoy the company.'

Cecily was shouting now, 'You've no right to sell the house.'

Quietly, but with determination in her voice Steph replied, 'Oh yes I've. Stuart and I were granted Power of Attorney last year. And I can assure you that we don't need the money. Anything that comes from the sale will go directly to keep Vera happy and well looked after. Goodbye Mum, I've had enough of your demands and complaints, I'm going now.'

Steph returned the phone to the coffee table, turned to her husband and sister, and said, 'Phew. I don't know how I kept my temper. Mum must be waiting for Vera to die so she can get her hands on the pittance the house will fetch. I hope Vera lives for years so Mum can't have anything.'

'Let's forget it now,' said Simon. 'You will get het up and unable to sleep.'

'OK,' said Steph. She smiled at her husband and sister. 'Thank goodness Mum doesn't live nearer.'

Chapter 22 – The dental hospital

Heavy rain and a stormy sky were exactly what Steph didn't need as she rushed to the dental hospital. It was only under half a mile but in this weather seemed longer. She disliked doing dental X-rays. She could cope with Saturday night stabbings. Leg fractures on motorcyclists where jagged bone was poking through the skin. Broken noses. Incontinent old people. Incontinent babies. But people's mouths? Yuk. It was the saliva. It really got to her. She'd never liked kissing with tongues, even with Stuart. The thought of having to put her fingers into a stranger's mouth, even with gloves on, made her feel queasy. Ruth knew that. Ruth knew all the radiographers' likes and dislikes and had purposely chosen Steph to cover for an ill colleague at the dental hospital. She knew Steph would hate it.

Mel's phobia was people's feet. She struggled to manipulate feet for an X-ray. Jayne's was children. She didn't dislike children. In fact, she had one of her own, but she couldn't cope with ill children. It upset her too much.

So, what does Ruth do? She tries to ensure Mel does feet X-rays and, yes, you've got it, Jayne to X-ray dying children at the children's hospital.

Steph knew her own dislike was irrational, but she could understand Mel's feet fear. Many of the people coming in for feet X-rays had feet that stank. Not just tramps but ordinary people who, one would think, would shower every day.

Teenage boys were the worst. All day their feet would be encased in trainers, no air getting to them. When their trainers were removed the smell could be so dire that gas masks would be donned if available. Then if they did shower daily, which Steph would have been surprised to hear, they obviously didn't wash between their toes.

Toe jam was evident in many teenage, and older boys. And even in grown men whose mothers, girlfriends or wives should have trained them into thorough bathing. Funnily enough it didn't bother Steph. But saliva and spittle definitely did. Medical and hospital staff regularly met for after-work drinks in Jokers, the local wine bar. Sometimes there would be half a dozen, sometimes up to fifteen. Once, when Steph was there with another radiographer, some doctors and a couple of nurses, the subject of saliva came up.

During an evening out any non-medical person listening in would require a strong stomach. Many of the discussions centred around gore, blood, vomit, pus, snot, faeces, surgery, diseased livers, black smoke-damaged lungs, MRSA, C Difficile and just plain old saliva or sputum. The first time she'd met some medical staff at the pub she'd been surprised that most of the medical staff, including doctors, professed that they, too, abhorred saliva. They seemed fascinated by pus, but saliva was a wider phobia than Steph would have expected.

So now, whenever she had to go to the dental hospital, she remembered that she wasn't particularly odd after all. With rain battering her face she thought of her manager again.

'That woman is just plain evil,' she muttered as she reached the dental hospital reception. Removing her coat and shaking the rain off she stepped into the lift.

'Hello! Haven't seen you over here in a long time,' greeted one of the dental nurses. 'Are you avoiding us?'

Knowing better than to let anyone know her phobia, she replied airily, 'There's so much to do at the other sites.'

'You're wet through. Why didn't you use an umbrella?'

'I didn't know I was going to be sent here, and Ruth said it was urgent. I didn't have time to collect a brolly.'

'Ah! so the wonderful Ruth sent you over. It wasn't urgent. We're only one radiographer down, so we could have coped,' said the nurse.

Damn, thought Steph. It's that witch pulling a fast one on me. She knows I don't like it here so she's done this on purpose. I'll have to stay or there'll be hell to pay. Inwardly she fumed. Had she been on her own she'd have expelled profanity after profanity. She wondered if sticking pins in a plasticine model of the hated superintendent would work. If TV images could be received through the air, perhaps a Voodoo doll might also work. Goodness, what was she turning into? Steph became alarmed at her bitterness towards her manager.

Despite the dental nurse's opinion that she wasn't needed, Steph and Adam, who often requested to be at the dental hospital, were kept reasonably busy.

Steph called the next patient, 'Albert Finch.' No response from the waiting room. Steph tried again, 'Albert Finch. Is Albert Finch here?'

Everyone looked at each other except for one old man who was leafing through a magazine. That must be him, she thought. Walking towards him she touched his shoulder, making him jump.

'Are you Albert Finch?' she asked loudly. He nodded. 'Follow me,' she said. Reaching the small dental X-ray room, she turned to see him still sitting on the chair reading the magazine. Some of the other patients were smiling. Sighing, Steph returned to the old man and pulled his sleeve, pointing to the X-ray room door. He understood this time and followed her.

Inside the X-ray room the man sat in the chair. Asking if he had any false teeth, Steph pointed to his mouth. It was clear the man didn't understand. Steph shouted the question. He looked at her quizzically. Sighing again she put her fingers to his mouth. Obligingly he opened his mouth. She searched around and tried to remove his dentures. She couldn't find any.

Surprised that someone his age didn't seem to have dentures, she tried again, strands of saliva sticking to her gloves as she removed her fingers. No luck. He really had all his own teeth. All his own teeth may have been there but they were all brown from nicotine. Steph found her stomach starting to somersault. Saliva and brown teeth, yuk. She could taste vomit at the back of her mouth. Swallowing didn't help, she knew she was going to be sick. She reached the sink just in time, bringing up her breakfast.

Aware that the man was watching her, she rinsed her mouth, then turned and said, 'Sorry.'

To her surprise he gave her a grin then pointed to her stomach and gave her a thumbs up.

Good Lord, she thought, he thinks I've morning sickness! She smiled and nodded. She'd rather the old chap thought she was pregnant than that she found him repugnant.

She managed to get through the day without being sick again. How could she prevent Ruth sending her here again she wondered. Begging would have the reverse effect, ensuring she'd be at the dental hospital more often. Then the solution hit her. How silly, it was so simple. If it worked she'd tell the others too. Mel and Jayne. Maybe it would work. And there was an obvious solution to ensure she could take a week off soon when she wanted it.

During her lunch break she rang Mel to tell her the idea she had. 'So Mel, all you have to do is say that you've conquered your aversion to feet and would like to gain more experience.'

Mel considered this. 'Do you think it will actually work?' she asked Steph.

'I don't know, but we won't know if we don't try it. Where do you like working the best?' Steph asked her.

'The children's. I love it there. I can cope with terminally ill children. It upsets me but I feel I can actually help being there.'

'So,' Steph said, 'you tell her you love feet and hate kids. It'll guarantee she never puts you on Dr. Trent's foot clinic, and I bet you end up at the children's most of the time.'

'OK,' Mel said, 'I'll give it a try but I'm warning you, if she sees through our little scam I'm going to bottle my saliva and post it to you!'

'YUK double YUK as Jake says. Can you let Jayne know? Then she can let it slip that she now loves going to the children's hospital. Ruth's bound to stop her going.'

'OK, will do, gotta go now,' said Mel and terminated the call.

Steph decided the way to get a week off exactly when she wanted it was to tell Ruth that she had a relative of Stuart's coming to stay. The superintendent knew nothing of Stuart's meagre family. Steph could say it was Stuart's aunt and that she always made Steph's life a misery so Steph wanted to work as many shifts as possible that week to avoid the dreaded aunt. Steph would request the following week off.

Knowing how vindictive Ruth was she was bound to insist that the only week available was that one week when the mythical aunt was staying. It didn't matter if it didn't work as all Steph wanted was a week off. Trying to get Ruth to agree to more than a couple of days was difficult. If she thought Steph definitely didn't want a certain week off she'd ensure Steph did have the whole week off.

Then Steph had to drop into a conversation that she'd overcome her fear of teeth etc., when the bully was near. She could add that she'd made some really good friends at the dental hospital and had fun there. It was bound to work, Steph thought.

Looking forward to 5 o'clock, Steph called the next patient in, fixed a welcome grin on her face, and gritted her teeth prior to sticking her fingers into another mouth.

'Hi Steph, do you mind if I don't stay for the evening meal tonight? I've got a date.'

'With whom?' Steph asked.

'His name's Joshua. He's divorced. He sounds really nice. We chatted on the phone last night until 2.30 this morning. We're going to meet tonight for the first time at The Duck and Trumpet.'

Her sister sounded excited, but Steph's inherent responsibility for her prompted a question, which, she knew, would annoy Katrina.

'Where did you meet him?'

The silence seemed to last ages but was, in fact, probably only five seconds.

'On the net. I found a new site. There's nothing to worry about. I'm meeting him at the pub surrounded by lots of people and no, I won't sleep with him. Not yet.'

Steph sighed. It's all she seemed to do lately. Katrina was only a few years younger but when it came to men she was like a teenage girl, oblivious to danger. Steph knew that Katrina thought she fussed, but there had been so many times Katrina had plunged into new relationships and shortly after been hurt.

She knew the next question would also annoy her sister, 'How long have you been chatting to him?'

Another silence. Steph was sure this time it was longer.

'Katrina?'

'We emailed each other two days ago and I spoke to him last night. It's all right, honestly. I promise I won't fall in love with him at first sight. I'm all grown up now, Sis.'

Steph would wait to be convinced. 'Will you stick your head around our bedroom door when you are home?' she asked her sister.

'OK, OK, I will. Might be late 'tho. Oh, and Sis,'

'Yes,' said Steph.

'There's something else. He's black.'

Steph wasn't actually shocked. Taken aback was more accurate. She couldn't care less about race or colour, but she knew their mother would. 'Mum won't like that.'

'I know but I couldn't care less. If she decides to ignore me then I will be happy. I actually hate her. Isn't that dreadful?'

Steph sighed, 'I concur. I look forward to meeting him. Please do let me know you are home safe tonight.'

'It really will be very late.'

'I don't care. I just need to know you are home and safe.'

'OK Sis, bye.'

As she put down the phone, Steph felt as if she was her sister's mother. She knew Katrina felt that too at times.

Adam was removing his gloves when she returned to X-ray. He pulled a face.

'What's up?' she asked.

He pulled another face and rolled his eyes. 'My patient couldn't stop the gag reflex when I put the bite wing into her mouth, and she vomited over my hands. Thank goodness I didn't vomit too, but I nearly did.'

Steph looked at him with sympathy but wasn't going to let on she'd been sick too.

'Did you get some good images in the end?'

'Yes, I tried again and suggested she tilted her head forward slightly. I also took a periapical of a molar and root. It worked luckily.'

'So, you've washed?'

'Well sort of. I rinsed my gloves before I took them off to throw away. I didn't want vomit spreading over me. I'm going to give my hands a good scrub after I get rid of these.' He pointed to the gloves he was holding with the tips of his fingers, his nose wrinkled.

Later, Steph dealt with a patient who had a 'clicking jaw', more correctly known as Temporomandibular disorder - TMD. Steph did a panoramic image of her jaws. The woman was in her early twenties. Looking at the image Steph thought she'd probably need a bite plate made to stop her grinding her teeth. It was a common affliction of young women, and often caused by teeth grinding during sleep. Another cause could be something as simple as a filling that was too high, putting stress on the jaw.

She herself had been fitted for a bite plate when she was only fifteen. Her jaw had stuck one evening, and until she'd gone to the doctor the next day she'd drunk tomato soup through a straw. Her mother had been unsympathetic, telling her not to be silly. It was her father who said that perhaps some anti-inflammatory tablets might be a good idea, but her mother had told him not to pander to his daughter; it was attention-seeking behaviour.

Later, when Steph was in bed, her father had slipped in with a glass of water and some Ibuprofen and given her two tablets. When her father had taken her to the doctor she'd been prescribed Ibuprofen and told to go to the dentist when the swelling had abated, for X-rays and a bite plate to be made.

Cecily had poo-pooed the necessity to go to the dentist and said that if Robert wanted to then he could take her, and that Steph was still attention seeking. It was another example of her mother's indifference to her children's needs, both emotional and physical. Even when young, the girls had realised their mother was nothing like those of their school friends. Rarely did they take friends home, knowing Cecily would criticise them and belittle her daughters.

Birthday parties were another area of torment for the two little girls. From early in primary school the girls had been invited to friends' birthday parties. Cecily had no problem with her daughters attending, as it meant they were out of the house for a couple of hours. A gift for the birthday child was another issue. She just didn't bother to buy one. Steph was excited when she received a brightly coloured invitation to a classmate's fifth birthday at a community centre. A magician had been booked and the birthday girl called Clare was full of information about something called pass the parcel and musical chairs. It all sounded wondrous and five-year old Steph couldn't sleep the night before and made the mistake of wakening her parents at five in the morning to ask how long before they could go. Cecily shouted that she was no longer allowed to go. The little girl was distraught and while crying on her bed she heard her father berating her mother and informing her that he'd take his daughter to the party.

That afternoon, Robert dressed his daughter in the prettiest of her cotton dresses and strapped her into the booster seat in the car. During the eight-minute journey he remembered the birthday gift and asked Steph if she'd brought it. She was confused. Never having had a party of her own she was unaware that her role was to take a gift for the birthday child. Robert considered that his wife had bought a gift and forgotten to give it to her daughter so he did a U-turn and returned to the house.

'A gift? With the pittance you earn how am I supposed to fork out for a present for a child I've never met, and unlikely to meet?'

Robert was speechless that his wife expected their young daughter to turn up empty-handed at a child's party. A dash to the high street where he parked on double-yellow lines and a quick choice of some 'My little ponies' resulted in a beautifully shop-wrapped present being presented to the delighted Clare.

After that he assumed the role of present buyer, with advice from his daughters. Buying for other little girls was easy, but on the rare occasion his daughters were invited to a party for a boy their suggestions of stationery sets with multicoloured pencils and erasers in the shapes of fruit, or pop-up princess books were not helpful.

Cecily never allowed them to have a party of their own at home and said it was a waste of money to hold a party at an establishment. Robert arranged parties in McDonalds, a safari park, a pottery painting studio and an artificial sledging slope plus others. The girls' mother never attended, or baked anything, not even a birthday cake. The latter was easily remedied by the local cake shop and a smiling assistant advised the tall attractive father on designs that she thought would be suitable and party food the business could provide if required.

When Katrina's tenth birthday cake was ordered the assistant enquired how long Robert had been a widower. He was taken aback, then realised that she'd never seen Robert and Cecily together, and that it was always Robert who arranged the cakes. Cecily did shop there but had never been involved in party food so had not accompanied him. It brought it home to Robert how uninterested his wife was in her daughters.

After being at the dental hospital only an hour Ruth called Steph back. It was still pouring with rain and Steph was soaked again by the time she reached the general hospital. Damn that woman, she thought.

Chapter 23 – Stabbings

Steph and Mel were paired together again. They worked well together and didn't get on each other's nerves. It should have been Steph and Darren but he'd called in sick that morning and Mel had agreed to cover. Both women agreed that Darren's 'illness' had coincided nicely with one of the major cricket matches at the ground a few miles away.

'I bet, when he next comes in, that he'll have a suntanned face,' Mel said.

'Yes, you can bet if he's gone to the ground that he'll keep his head down when the TV cameras pan round,' agreed Steph. Blaize, the student, was on a course and joining them later.

'I rang Dave in CT to see if he has any CT scans to do, so we can send Blaize over there. He says we can send her over as soon as she arrives,' Steph told Mel, looking through some notes. 'The patient is on one of the wards so he said he can hang on until the girl arrives, if she isn't late, that is.' A couple of routine X-ray requests came through from A&E and were speedily despatched by the two women taking turns.

Shortly after, Blaize appeared. 'How was the training?' Steph asked.

'It was OK, but I felt the three hours could have condensed into two if they had got a move on,' the girl said.

'Yes, they can waffle on,' replied Mel. 'Anyway, we've kept a juicy one for you. I don't think you've seen CT scans before have you?' she asked the girl.

'No, although I know what they're for.'

'Great,' said Steph. 'Well there's an in-patient who needs a CT scan so you can watch while Dave in CT does it,' said Steph. 'Pop over to see him now. See you later.'

Blaize was so excited about the prospect of observing a CT scan that she rushed up the corridor, but was reprimanded by an important looking person who was wearing a hospital badge. 'No running! Even if there's an emergency, it isn't like on those hospital programmes where you run everywhere. Walk briskly, but don't run!' the portly man said.

Dave, tall, think, dark and handsome, smiled at her when she arrived. 'You were quick, can you phone up to Olive ward and tell them we're ready for Clive Braithwaite. Oh, and ask how much he weighs before he turns up.'

'Why?' asked the girl.

'The scanner is only for people who don't weigh more than twenty-one stone,' said Dave.

'What's "stone"?' she asked.

'I'll explain all about the weights later,' Dave replied.

Blaize rang through to the ward and asked the question about Mr. Braithwaite's weight. 'Thirty-six stone,' she reported.

'What!' said Dave, he's far too heavy. Tell them we can't use this scanner for him,' he told Blaize.

He heard her repeating the news. Then silence as Blaize appeared to be listening.

'The nurse says he's not thirty-six stone, he's thirty stone,' the girl said, still holding the phone.

'Still too heavy. Surely they should know his weight, sounds like they're guessing,' said Dave.

Blaize told the nurse that he was still too heavy. She listened. 'Now she says he's only twenty-nine stone,' she reported.

'Here, I'll have the phone,' said Dave. There followed a heated discussion. Blaize could hear him telling the nurse that it wasn't a guess the weight of the patient, and they should know his exact weight and if he was over twenty-one stone then this scanner couldn't take him. He'd have to be transported to a larger scanner at another hospital. When he finished the conversation he said, 'She accused me of not caring about his welfare. I told her that it would be her welfare she'd need to worry about if we put him in the scanner and it broke with his weight. And you won't believe this but that nurse then said he was only 21 stone!'

'That's a good diet,' said Blaize, 'losing fifteen stone in a matter of minutes. We could market it and make a fortune.'

Luckily for Blaize, more CT scan patients arrived and gave their permission for the student to watch proceedings. Half an hour later, when Blaize was showing a patient out, the phone rang. Dave answered it.

There was another heated conversation about the man and the scanner, ending with Dave saying, 'I don't care who you are, we cannot put him into the CT scanner. As I keep saying, he's too big and heavy and is unlikely to be able to hold his breath long enough. Hospital management, of which I'm aware you report to, bought an average scanner, for average sized people, not for people of Mr. Braithwaite's size. The patient needs to be sent to St. Bristow's where they have one of the new super speed scanners. Yes, report me if you want. We still won't put him through!' Dave was shaking with rage when he terminated the call.

'That was Mr. Snooks, Mr Braithwaite's consultant,' he told Blaize. 'He was trying to brow-beat me into accepting his patient for a scan. Some consultants are lovely but some are so up themselves it's unbelievable. He's reporting me for not doing a scan as requested. How can the consultant not understand that this old scanner can't undertake the scan fast enough for obese patients who can't hold their breath long enough? Also,' he added for the benefit of the student, 'if the patient is too big and heavy for the scanner they risk injuring themselves or badly damaging the machine. Unfortunately, more than 60% of adults in England are overweight or obese and the old hospital equipment can't always cope.'

'Is it true that corridors have been widened and larger doors fitted in new hospitals?' asked Blaize. 'One of our teachers told us that but we didn't believe her.'

'So I understand. Even wheelchairs are having to be made larger with more robust wheels. The new CT scanners can take weights from 160 kg to 300 Kg. It's costing the NHS billions purchasing new equipment to cope with bariatric patients.'

Dave was clearly annoyed about the confrontation with the consultant. He decided to record the incident and put Blaize down as a witness. Blaize looked worried about this.

'Don't worry,' said Dave, 'in fact you don't need to be involved, but you've learned not to be bullied into doing something you know is against hospital protocol, don't you?' he asked the girl.

Blaize said she did and looked calmer now. There is such a lot to learn, she thought.

Blood was everywhere. OK, that was an exaggeration, but just as spilt milk goes a long way so does blood. In fact, blood looked worse. Whether it was because of the contrast - red on white walls, or the association with life and death Steph didn't know, but there certainly seemed to have been a bloodbath in the waiting area and imaging room tonight.

Steph and Mel were still half way through another twenty-four-hour shift. Blaize, being a first-year student, had left at five pm. Steph was disliking these long shifts more and more and the thought that she would have to work until she was sixty-eight to get her state pension was frightful. She couldn't face doing this job another five years let alone thirty-six! Tonight had certainly been one of the messiest.

A twenty-three-year old man had gone berserk with a knife in the city centre, due, apparently, to his young wife and her parents refusing to allow him access to his children. Not knowing the wrongs and rights of the family Steph felt it was a shame he'd resorted to stabbing three complete strangers and two policemen while drunk and upset. Thank goodness it wasn't the USA. He might have had a gun and there could have been dead bodies, not just bleeding ones. Certainly, from his wife's and the court's point of view, going around stabbing people surely wasn't the way to demonstrate a father capable of looking after his children properly.

After calling the cleaners to deal with the waiting area, Steph pulled on rubber gloves and an apron, and started mopping up the blood in the X-ray room. Being squeamish was not an option in this job. Every year a couple of school kids would ask to do their work experience in radiography. Without exception they all thought it was just a matter of taking some photos of broken bones, then sending patients back to the doctor to put them right. None realised that there were also the nasty, messy and upsetting bits too.

Cancer patients needed X-raying to ascertain whether the tumours had spread; dead babies may need X-raying to help determine death; police might bring in the decapitated head of a murder victim for dental X-rays to help identify who it is. All pretty upsetting to a young student from a nice family, protected from the nastier side of life.

The smell of coffee cheered her up a bit. She looked up from mopping up more gore from the X-ray table and she saw Mel's tired face smiling at her. The two mugs of coffee and four Krispy Kreme doughnuts were a real tonic. Even if the high would only last as long as the coffee and doughnuts.

'How come we don't have those nasty polystyrene beakers?' Steph asked her partner for the night.

'I know, They're SO horrible. They aren't supposed to taste of anything but I'm convinced that it could be champagne in those horrid white cups and it would taste awful. So, I detoured to the staff room and took these mugs to the canteen to fill. I'm sure the coffee will taste better.'

'Thanks Mel. I've mopped everywhere. That's one each. Your turn next.'

'That's something to look forward to. Here, have some doughnuts. Because there are holes in them there aren't any calories!' teased Mel.

'I do so wish that were true,' Steph said. 'Maybe if anything with a hole in had no calories, such as a bar of chocolate, I wouldn't have to limit my intake of all the nice, fattening foods I crave. I started a diet a few days ago but I'm now going to break it. I just have to eat this.'

'Why is it that my husband can eat chocolate and cakes and not put on a pound? I only have to glance at delicious, gorgeous fattening food and the calories fly through the air like wi-fi and distribute fat around my body, sticking like flies to a fly paper!' Mel lamented.

'How does that happen?' asked Steph. 'I heard that if you eat only one plain digestive biscuit extra to the recommended weight maintenance calorie allowance every day for a year, you could put on half a stone, or something. But, if I were to eat one fewer digestive biscuit every day you can bet your bottom dollar I wouldn't lose half a stone in a year.'

'By the way Steph, has anything been done about that recording you made in Ruth's office?' asked Mel.

Pulling a face Steph replied, 'I gave it to Lindy and she was going to pass it on to one of the other union reps but when I enquired Lindy has come down with chicken pox and is in isolation at home. I don't know if she did pass it on and I don't want to phone Lindy. She should be back soon. In the meantime, I will just have to keep out of Ruth's way. Sometimes I feel it would be worth doing a life sentence to murder her!'

Laughing, Mel said, 'I think there would be others in the queue ahead of you.'

In between patients Steph took a surreptitious look at the inbox on her mobile phone, and checked her voicemail. If Ruth saw her she'd be in very deep manure. There were several text messages, but none important. Her voicemail, however, had one message which she listened to.

'Mrs. Kerris, it's Anne Dousland from Evergreen. I need you to come and discuss your grandmother. She's absolutely fine, but we're having a few teething problems. Please phone me for an appointment.' Steph groaned. What did teething problems mean? Her grandmother had been there only a few days.

More patients wanting X-rays were arriving, going by the sounds in the waiting area, so Steph put the phone back into her pocket. It was another two hours before she was able to return the call to Vera's retirement home.

'Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Dousland please.' The person picking up the phone hadn't asked who she was. Steph could hear the sounds of crockery being clattered around in the background. It was probably tea time. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to phone. Three minutes later she was still waiting. Eventually she heard someone coming to the phone.

'Hello. Mrs. Dousland here.'

'Mrs. Dousland, this is Steph Kerris returning your call about my grandmother, Vera Dainty.'

'Thanks for phoning. Mrs. Dainty is not settling in. That's not unusual, some of our residents who come into a nursing home for the first time do find it confusing.'

'So, what's the problem?' asked Steph.

'Well, our main concern is that she's being rather, how shall I put it, rather aggressive towards other residents.'

Steph was surprised. She knew Vera was a moaner, but she'd never been aggressive. 'I'm surprised. She's never been aggressive at home.'

'That's not all. She absolutely refuses to use any of the toilets. She wants a commode all the time and as there aren't any downstairs she's being incontinent. We could bring a commode from upstairs but it shouldn't be necessary. It's making extra work for the staff.'

This didn't surprise Steph. Obviously, Vera was worried about rats in the toilet again.

'When you say aggressive, is it towards everyone?'

'No, she's being aggressive towards some residents.'

'But not staff? And what form does this aggression take?' asked Steph.

'So far, she hasn't been aiming her anger at staff, but she's twice tried to throttle an elderly lady, and hit another on the legs with her stick. We had to drag your grandmother off her. So, Vera is now being kept in her room, even at meal times. I'm sorry Mrs. Kerris but if the situation doesn't improve soon we will be unable to keep your grandmother here. Could you have a chat with her?'

Steph groaned. She hadn't meant to actually make a sound but the groan erupted without intention. She knew there was absolutely no way that Vera would take notice of her. Stuart maybe, but not her.

'I'll have a word with my husband. He and Vera have always got along well together, maybe he can have a chat with her.' Steph was crossing her fingers while she said this.

'All right then, see if he can come along tonight. If that doesn't work then, with your permission, I could have a doctor examine her. He may recommend some form of medication. but if that fails we will ask you to remove her. We cannot put our residents at risk. '

After she'd disconnected the call Steph sat with her head in her hands. What was going on? She could understand the rats and toilet issue, but why on earth was Vera attacking an old lady? She rang Stuart and asked if he could pop along later, and then returned to work in case Ruth appeared.

By the time she'd arrived home, Stuart told her he'd been to the home and had discovered the cause of Vera's anger. When he'd turned up Vera was all smiles, but during his chat with her she said she didn't want to be on holiday with her daughter. Stuart was baffled. Cecily hadn't even visited her mother in the home. Vera, however, delivered a litany of Cecily's sins, even going back as far as when she was seven years old. Trying to discover why Vera was attacking one old lady in particular, the only response again was that Vera didn't want to be on holiday with her daughter.

Baffled, he found Mrs. Dousland and asked if he could see the lady Vera had attacked. On being shown the lady he immediately understood. Jane Carstell was the spitting image of Steph's mum, Cecily. An old version, but she was about the same height, weight and had a very similar hair colour. Even her nose was imperious like Cecily's and she had the same pinched, disapproving mouth. Stuart could see why Vera would think, with her slight dementia, that her daughter was near. Whereas Vera was rude to Robert and Steph, for some years now she'd taken an extreme dislike to her own daughter.

Mrs. Dousland, having been enlightened by Stuart, agreed that the problem wasn't going to go away and the person who would have to leave would be Vera. He said he'd discuss with his wife and would let her know tomorrow when they had found another place for Vera.

'That's great, I'm now going to have to find her another home. I hope Evergreen refund the rest of the month. We've paid almost £2000 and I shall expect a refund for the unused time.'

'It's all sorted, Stuart said, 'providing you are happy. I went to Risborough Grange and explained the situation about the non-existent rats. They have two vacant rooms, and I did a quick look around and no-one looks much like Cecily. They can cope with a commode in each reception room, and they seem altogether more understanding. I know you hadn't looked at it as it's another four miles away but I'm sure if you have a look around you'll be pleased.'

Sitting end to end on the settee, with her feet in his lap, Steph gave him a tired, but glowing smile.

'You are quite wonderful, you know. For the rest of my shift I was worrying about what to do and my gorgeous husband has it all sorted.'

'Well, we have to hope Vera settles in. Funny old stick. What strikes me about the two homes I was in today is that the resident female to male ratio is about 8:1. Looks like we men work so hard we're worn out and die younger, while you women obviously don't work hard enough and live longer!'

He had to duck as Steph lobbed two cushions at him. 'Huh! Who works harder in this household? I do almost everything while you just do a few drawings for clients and cook a meal once a week.'

'But that's because I want to live as long as you, so we can be together longer!'

Throwing herself towards him she said, 'I DO love you!'

'Nibbling her ear, he said, 'Prove it later.'

She turned to face him and she said, 'You're supposed to say, 'I love you too.'

'I will, but only when you prove it in bed.'

'You are turning into a dirty old man.'

'I know, isn't it fun.'

Chapter 24 – The mule

'We're engaged!' screamed Katrina down the phone. Steph's heart sank. Not again. This one wouldn't last more than a few months then it will be tears. Oh well, just enjoy the highs with Katrina before the inevitable lows appeared, she thought.

Steph rubbed her tired eyes. She should be off work today but due to a radiographer being ill she'd been called in by Ruth to cover. Just as she got out of the car parked near the hospital her phone rang and Katrina gave her exciting news. Not wanting to dampen the spirits of her ecstatic sister, Steph congratulated her and said she would see her tomorrow. Katrina was bringing Joshua to meet Steph and family. Typical Katrina, inviting herself and fiancé to dinner. She'd expect a really good meal. Steph would need to go shopping.

During her break Steph told her husband his sister-in-law's news. Stuart wondered if Katrina would still be engaged in twenty-four hours, but didn't mention that to his wife, although he thought she'd probably concur.

'Instead of you cooking, how about we go to M&S and buy some of their party type food? They have a good range and we can just put dishes in the dishwasher later.' Stuart suggested. 'Then you can relax and not be tied to the kitchen.'

A lovely warm feeling enveloped Steph. He was such a dear. Whatever her mother said, Stuart was right for her. Their marriage might have settled into a comfortable friendship, with occasional exercise in bed, but Steph loved him and wished Katrina would find someone to be happy with too. Looking at her watch she realised she'd have to rush to reach her department in time.

On arriving in her department Steph was met by Jas.

'Thanks for coming in,' said Jas. We've phoned around five people but they were either not answering or were busy. Gosh you look tired. Are you all right?'

As she walked across to her locker, Steph said, 'I'm just tired. I must admit I really didn't want to come in. I'm bushed.'

'It's only until five then Mel's on shift until tomorrow morning with some agency staff,' her colleague said. 'And it does mean you've tomorrow off instead of working.'

'Thank goodness. OK, let's have a look at the list.' Steph said.

Most of the G.P. referrals had been done when the phone rang. Jas walked across to answer it. Steph was in the other X-ray room, dealing with a patient who seemed to think he had to take off all his clothes. He'd just wandered into the imaging room totally starkers. It was not a lovely sight.

'Mr. Melba,' she said, 'as you are only having your arm X-rayed you don't need to remove any clothing other than your shirt.' The man, still standing in front of her, giving her a full-frontal view, just looked at her with a crooked smile on his face. Why he thought that she'd find a paunch, a grey hairy chest and a tiny flaccid purple penis interesting she didn't know.

'Please return to the dressing room and get dressed.' No response. Steph couldn't decide if he was a bit simple, or if he was doing it on purpose. Thankfully his 'member' was still asleep. She felt in her pocket for her alarm. If she felt at risk of attack she could press the alarm or her personal alarm in her pocket and the man would think war had started. Within a couple of minutes as many security men that were on the premises would descend on the department and, depending on what they saw when they arrived, might tackle the patient to the ground. Act first, ask questions later, was their policy when colleagues were at risk of harm.

Steph had resorted to using the alarm only twice in the years she'd been a radiographer. Both times were when dealing with drunken men. Some drunks were affable and inoffensive. Unfortunately, some drunks, male and female, would be violent.

'Mr. Melba, if you don't return to the dressing room and put on all your clothes, except your shirt, I will call security. I can assure you that is something you won't want to happen.' The man blinked, looked down at his 'member' then turned and ambled back to the dressing room. He returned a couple of minutes later as if nothing had happened. From then on all went smoothly.

Showing the flasher out, Steph was called across by Jas. 'We've had a call from reception. There's a suspected drug mule on the way over, accompanied by a custom's officer and two police officers.' There being an international airport only seventeen miles away it was not unusual for suspected drug traffickers to be brought in for an X-ray to ascertain if there were drugs packed into their bodies.

'Male or female?' Steph asked.

'Female, about nineteen. She's English too,' her colleague replied.

'How much do you want to bet she claims to be pregnant?' Steph asked.

'Not taking that one. She's sure to claim she is. What she probably doesn't know is that if we can't do a normal X-ray she can still have ultrasound. Why do they do it?'

'That's obvious. Money. It's usually money,' Steph replied.

'Yes, but sometimes these silly girls do it because they think the man loves them, and they're promised that when the drugs are sold it will set her and the man up for life. That they will marry and have a home and 2.4 kids together. Silly saps.' Jas raised her eyebrows and sighed.

'Yes, and you can bet your bottom dollar that if the girl is caught her man disappears, leaving her to take the blame.' Steph sighed. 'What gets me is that they also don't realise the danger They're putting themselves in, especially if they have swallowed condoms which could burst inside.'

Jas heard the buzzer in the waiting area so went to deal with the patient. A couple of minutes later the phone rang again and Steph answered. Since the call had finished she popped her head around the door of the other X-ray room and told Jaz that reception said the customs officer and others were on their way up to the department.

'Let's do this one together,' she suggested. 'It's a pity there isn't a student on duty. It would be interesting.'

'I suspect it would open their eyes to the depths some people will go to for money,' Jas said.

'I'm not so sure. Talking to some students they seem to be shown some real scary X-rays in their lectures. I suspect they've seen more weird ones than we have. In our day we weren't shown such vividly horrid images.'

'Yes, you were protected. I saw some quite horrible X-rays during training. The lecturers seemed to enjoy trying to shock us. I think university managers decided years ago that you young things shouldn't be exposed to depravity until the third year, if that,' Jas agreed. 'Let's go out and meet them when they come.'

Almost on cue, arguing could be heard from the corridor outside. A woman's voice was shrieking and using unsavoury language. It sounded like she was complaining about being victimised. Seconds later the swing doors opened and three hospital security guards, two police officers, another man who wasn't in uniform, presumably the customs officer, and a chunky girl in handcuffs appeared. She was still shouting and swearing. Being told to 'shut up' exacerbated her behaviour rather than calm her down. She looked about seventeen, was a couple of stone overweight and had long greasy bleached hair with brown roots showing. Her varnished green finger nails were bitten and she had several earrings in each ear and a tattoo at the nape of her neck above the shoulders. It was something written in a foreign language.

The two radiographers watched while the police officers tried to get her to quieten. The customs' officer approached the radiographers and told them the name of the girl and that he suspected she'd swallowed condoms filled with cocaine. This was the fourth trip the girl had taken from Bangkok in three weeks. For someone so young to be able to afford the trip so often it was felt something dubious was happening.

Jas approached the girl. 'Samantha, you are here for an X-ray. Do you think you might be pregnant?'

This standard and essential question brought out a hiss from the customs' officer, followed by, 'Did you have to ask her that?'

Shifting his gaze from the girl to the man, she said, 'Of course. It's standard policy.' She sighed and looked at the girl. Her shoulder length hair looked like it hadn't been washed for days and her body odour was unpleasant.

Sensing something important here the girl, who had been given a few seconds to consider her response, said, 'Yes, I'm pregnant.' She looked triumphantly at the custom's officer.

'Damn,' he said quietly, and then glared at Jas.

'That's OK,' said Steph. 'If you think you might be pregnant even though we can't take a standard X-ray we can take an ultrasound.' The girl started shrieking again and the custom's officer and the policemen grinned.

Jas stayed in the department in case any more patients came and Steph went on down to ultrasound to explain to the radiographer there what had happened. Also, she admitted to herself, she wanted to see if there were any packages inside the girl. Samantha kicked up a huge fuss and refused to submit to the ultrasound.

While the other radiographer was preparing for the girl and writing information on a form, Steph said quietly to the girl, 'Are you aware of the danger to your health if you've swallowed balloons or condoms filled with any drugs, and if one of them was to burst before you expelled the all?'

Seeing the girl's confused expression, she explained, in simple language, 'If they burst before you go to the toilet and poo them out, you will have a very lethal dose of drugs in your system and you may well die.' Steph could see the girl was absorbing this information.

'Before that happens, the drugs will get into your blood stream and you will start to experience very nasty side-effects and lots of pain. You may have done this before and been lucky, but I think your luck could run out. It has to happen eventually. I know people who have died hideously painful deaths from swallowing condoms with cocaine, heroin and other drugs.' Sensing the girl was thinking about what she was hearing, she continued, 'is it worth losing your life for money?'

The girl looked at her, then said, 'OK, go ahead then,' very quietly.

The radiographer smeared lubricating jelly on the girl's abdomen then started the ultrasound.

Within seconds the two radiographers and the custom's officer could see dark, not quite round objects on the screen.

'I think there are about sixteen of them,' the ultrasound operator said.

The girl said, 'Twenty, there should be twenty. Where have the others gone! Have they burst? Am I going to die?' her voice getting louder as panic set in.

Steph felt that her pep talk had frightened the girl. Good. Hopefully this will be the last trip she'll make. The ultrasound operator was studying the screen.

'Hush a minute. Let me concentrate.' Everyone obliged, including the girl, who was breathing in short, ragged breaths.

'Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,' the radiographer said. 'Let me count again.'

A minute later she told the girl, 'If you're sure there were twenty then you are very lucky, so far. I can see twenty but I need to call a consultant radiographer to come and see. He'll probably have to refer you for an operation, and quickly!'

The custom's officer had left the room and could be heard talking to the police officers in the waiting area outside. Steph decided she'd better return to her department.

She whispered to the girl,' Is it worth all this worry? How about having a really good think about your life?' Steph was realistic enough to realise that her words might have little effect on the girl. Then she had a brainwave.

'Remember, every time you are caught with drugs inside you, you will have to have surgery to remove them. The surgeon can't open up an old scar, so each time you will have another scar. Eventually your stomach will just be a criss-cross of ugly, red scars that will never go away.'

The girl had gone pale. Steph smiled to herself, and left the room.

'We were right then. She did have drugs inside her and she did claim she was pregnant,' Steph called to Jas. 'One of the police officers said the girl had a new boyfriend who said she wouldn't be caught and that the drugs would pass through easily. They did the other three times, luckily for her. He always meets her in arrivals, but I bet he scarpered when she didn't come through with all the other passengers. I bet she never sees him again.'

Five o'clock finally arrived and Steph gladly changed into civvies and left work. She wanted to pop into Boot's chemist on the way home. Many shops wouldn't serve medical staff in uniform. They were worried that infections like MRSA and C Diff and diseases could be brought into stores and put workers and shoppers at risk. Steph was fairly sure this worry was unfounded, but two of the students had recently been told to leave shops when they had popped out in uniform at lunchtime. They had found it horribly embarrassing, and had learnt their lesson.

Later, on the settee, feet up and sipping a glass of lovely cool Chablis, thinking her day justified a drink, she suddenly remembered the phone call from Katrina. How could she have forgotten her sister's shock announcement?

Stuart was outside, trimming a supposed topiary rabbit. Gemma had received the rabbit-shaped wire frame as a present at Christmas from a friend. At the time she'd looked bewildered, and her parents were taken aback too. but Stuart had planted two small privet bushes and put the frame over the top. Whenever the growth went over the frame Stuart trimmed it back. In time, they considered, it may well resemble a rabbit, sitting on its haunches with two huge ears sticking up. The problem then would probably be both children demanding more wire frames, to create a woodland setting; Watership Down perhaps. Their father would spend all his spare time in the growing season, trimming box topiary.

Later, when Stuart came in, having raided the beer cooler in the garage, they discussed Katrina's news.

Taking a sip of lager, he said, 'How long will this one last do you think?'

'God knows. Long enough for her to become devastated when it fails.'

'You never know,' her husband said, 'it might be OK this time.'

'You are aware how they met aren't you?' Steph asked him.

'Go on,' he prompted.

'On the internet.'

'That's how many people meet now.'

'Surely only the desperate?' she said.

'Not necessarily. It's not easy meeting people unless you want to go to a pub or a nightclub. And some people don't want to meet people who would hang around a pub or nightclub looking for partners.'

She took another sip of wine and said, 'But how can Katrina be sure he isn't some maniac?'

'But wherever or however you meet someone there isn't a totally truthful biography provided. Maybe you would expect a DRB check?' he said, tongue in cheek.

'Don't be silly. I just feel she should find out more about this chap before she commits to an engagement.'

Stuart looked at his wife. 'So, would you've had me checked up on if you had thought of it?'

'Certainly not!' she said indignantly. 'I knew you were all right.'

'How?' he queried.

Looking bemused she said, 'Well, you just seemed so right.'

'And Katrina's fiancé isn't?' he teased.

'Oh, I don't know!!!' she retorted. 'Anyway, we'll see. I'll be here to pick up the pieces as usual.'

Later, snuggled up in bed, her head on his bare shoulder, she said, 'Do you know, I didn't even ask Katrina what his name is.'

Kissing the top of her head he said, 'I suspect Katrina was far too excited to notice.'

Chapter 25 – Are you dead?

Darren and Mel were on the nine am to five pm shift. Mel was trying hard to tolerate Darren's superior attitude. It wasn't easy. Steph had told her about the insults he'd made to Jas and that she hadn't wanted to make a complaint. The problem was that if he was allowed to get away with it every time then his unacceptable behaviour was being condoned. They couldn't understand why he hadn't been disciplined at his previous hospital. Lots of staff here had moaned about him, but no-one had yet made a formal complaint. Having Ruth as the manager who should deal with the complaints, radiographers couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't side with Darren out of sheer cussedness. It seemed that everyone was waiting for someone else to make a complaint.

Similar to Steph, Mel had been qualified for eleven years, and had worked in various hospitals across the Trust. She had a wide range of experience. Darren, despite being new and having only eighteen months as a qualified radiographer, tried to lord it over Mel. His reasoning was that firstly he was a man, so of superior intelligence. Secondly, she'd worked in the same hospital for eleven years, whereas he'd worked at his previous hospital in another county. This seemed to mean, in his mind, that he'd had a wider range of experience than Mel. The fact that he was there only a short time was by-the-by in his opinion.

Steph and Mel were higher up the pay scale and were in higher bands than Darren. Darren was a Band five, which was the first tier straight from university. That didn't stop Darren trying to boss them, and anyone else with whom he worked. He had a natural 'Alpha Male' attitude.

So, when Mel had discovered that she was on the rota with Darren she wasn't pleased. It was quite common for radiographers to swap shifts to help colleagues attend a christening, wedding, child's school play or spouse's birthday meal. Generally, there was usually someone who could cover a shift, providing they weren't going over the maximum number of hours they were allowed to work in a given period.

When Mel realised that she was having to share a shift with Darren, even if it was only for eight hours, she knew there was absolutely no way anyone would swap with her. She'd have to just grin and bear it. However tempting it was to go sick to avoid him, she wouldn't do that because it would mean one of her colleagues would be pulled in to cover, and she couldn't have that on her conscience. Also, her name would be mud with colleagues.

She and Steph had agreed that the best policy with Darren was to start off as they meant to go on; put him in his place from the start. So, when Darren turned up, exactly on time, Mel told him to check the in-patient list and agree with the ward staff who was coming down, when and what for. He didn't take kindly to being told this by a mere woman.

Mel knew there were eight patients on the wards coming down for various X-rays. These were the usual mix of ages, but there were often more from the geriatric ward. They would always come down in a wheelchair, even though most of them were capable of walking. Retaining them in a wheelchair meant they were less likely to get lost in the maze of hospital corridors, and they could be wheeled in and back by porters more quickly than most of them could walk.

Mel and Darren dealt with the stream of A&E patients and the in-patients. Darren seemed to choose the quick and uncomplicated X-rays to do, leaving Mel the awkward and long ones. At one point she overheard him saying to a patient, 'I'll call my assistant, she'll do your X-ray for you.' Mel was livid. She pulled him to one side and said, 'How dare you call me your assistant. If anything, you are my assistant!'

Darren gave an irritating smile and said, 'Keep your hair on love, male patients feel more comfortable if they know a man is in charge.'

Mel was speechless. The gall of the man! The bare-faced effrontery of the man! She told him, 'If I hear you say that again to any of your seniors I will report you. You are too full of yourself. Also, this time you can do a real X-ray. Mr. Shanks is coming down from the ward and requires an X-ray of his right hip. He's very ill and needs to be handled carefully and quickly. You, since you are so clever, can do it all by yourself. We have very few patients left. I've been called to do a mobile on a ward.' With that she started pushing the mobile X-ray machine out into the corridor, leaving Darren staring, open-mouthed after her. Bitch.

A couple of minutes later Stan, the porter, brought Mr Shanks down in a wheelchair. The old man was asleep and snoring gently. Darren realised he was going to have to wake up the old chap. After the porter left Darren gently shook the patient and helped him onto the X-ray table. He knew the old man wouldn't be able to stand up on his own.

Annoyance at Mel still smarting, he was determined to get the old man done quickly so he could have a sit down with the newspaper. That would annoy Mel when she returned. He enjoyed annoying people. It was quite satisfying seeing people getting more and more angry. It gave him power. Anyway, she was a mere woman. What right did she have to tell him off? He took one image then went to reposition the old man for a second. The chap was certainly quiet now. Not a peep from him.

'Mr Shanks, I just need to move you a bit, can you lift your legs for me?' He asked the patient. No response. Maybe he's deaf, thought Darren. He's in his late eighties. He shouted the request again, 'Are you deaf? For goodness sake, you silly old fool, lift your legs.' Still no response. He must have gone straight back to sleep. Silly old fart.

'Mr Shanks, I'm going to move your legs. OK?' he shouted. There was absolutely no reaction at all. Oh well, I might as well just move him myself. He'll wake up in a minute. Darren rearranged the man with difficulty then took another image.

'Mr. Shanks, you need to get back into the wheelchair so you can go back to your ward.' There was no response at all. Darren grabbed the old chap's arms to help him up then thought, 'What's that smell?' A sickly-sweet smell rose and eddied about him. 'Oh no,' Darren thought, and put his fingers to the side of the old man's neck. He then tried the pulse on his wrist. 'Oh, bloody hell.'

I must not panic, he thought. Start CPR. Darren spent the next few minutes trying to revive the elderly patient. Eventually he decided it was fruitless to continue. I should have called the medics. It's too late now.

Darren knew that a mountain of paperwork has to be done and an investigation when someone dies in hospital, and he couldn't be bothered to do all that. He lugged the man's body back into the wheelchair. Rearranging the chap's head to the side so he appeared to be sleeping, Darren phoned for a porter. He then quickly cleaned the X-ray table. Another patient had arrived so he had to deal with her, hoping the porter would have taken the old man back by the time he'd finished with this patient.

Showing the patient out Darren saw the dead man was still there. Damn. After another ten minutes the porter hadn't arrived. Darren was becoming increasingly worried. He phoned again for a porter. He was told that there was a shortage of porters due to illness and someone would be along soon. After another five minutes Darren was considering wheeling the man up to his ward himself, but didn't want to for two reasons: firstly, because he shouldn't leave the department and secondly because he didn't want to wheel a dead body through the hospital and then have to face the nurse during the patient handover on the ward. He knew nurses weren't stupid and was sure they would spot a dead patient within seconds.

The porters weren't happy at being nagged. One said he'd turn up when he could. 'Don't you understand that yours isn't the only department in the hospital and there are other patients in the hospital who needed portering?'

Darren was sweating. That stupid woman could come back at any minute. Another patient appeared. Taking images of her arm, which was broken, Darren was keeping his ears open for either sounds of Mel returning and finding a dead body, or the porter taking the body back to the ward. He'd never taken X-rays so quickly. The woman was in and out before he'd time to think. Showing the patient out Darren saw that the old chap was still there.

If Mel returned while the dead man was still there maybe he could express surprise and sorrow that the poor chap had died in the wheelchair while waiting for the porter. Yes, that's what he could do.

Walking up and down the corridor, Darren's hair at the nape of his neck was damp. Hospitals are usually too warm, but today the radiographer felt he was in a sauna. He knew it was purely down to nerves. He saw the porter appearing from around the corner of the corridor by the lift. Quickly grabbing the handles of the wheelchair and swinging the chair around, he wheeled the old man towards the porter, meeting him half way.

'There you are, can you take him back to his ward. Go gently because he's fallen asleep.'

With no more people in the waiting area, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and sat down to read his paper and await Mel's return. A couple of minutes later Mel breezed in, refreshed from her cheese on toast and coffee break. Seeing Darren with his feet up and reading a paper brought back the tension.

Determined not to show her irritation Mel asked, 'Have all the people on the wards been done?'

'Yes, everyone. All hunky-dory,' confirmed Darren, without looking up from his paper. Mel was just going to tell Darren to go on his break so she didn't have to have him near her, when the phone rang. She reached over and picked it up on its first ring. She had a conversation with a nurse on one of the wards. Darren was trying not to show that he was anxiously listening when he heard her repeat, 'Mr. Shanks.'

Turning to Darren, who had lifted the newspaper higher, she asked, 'Did you do Mr Shanks' X-ray?'

'Yes, of course,' he replied. He didn't want her to see him in case he looked as guilty as he felt, so he kept the newspaper up high.

'Darren, put the paper down, I need to talk to you.'

Darren obeyed, trying to compose his features before lowering the paper. He wanted to look as if he was expecting a normal, unworried conversation.

'How was he?' Mel asked.

Darren was looking at the floor when he replied, 'He was quiet. He was asleep when he came down, and fell asleep again on the table.' Mel reported this over the phone.

Darren knew it would be very odd not to ask what was happening so, still looking at the floor asked, 'Is there something wrong?'

'Well,' Mel replied, 'he's dead.'

Darren managed to look surprised. I should have gone into acting, he thought. 'Dead? When did he die?'

Mel looked at him, managing to catch his eye, which he then slid sideways. There was something wrong here. She couldn't put her finger on it but something wasn't right. She didn't trust him an inch.

'He was pronounced dead in the wheelchair when he returned to the ward. Stan was upset when he realised he was wheeling a dead body.'

'He was all right when I helped him back into the chair,' said Darren. 'He even thanked me for doing the X-rays,' he elaborated.

Mel repeated what Darren had said, then cut the call.

'Darren.'

'Yes,' said Darren.

'Are you absolutely sure that Mr. Shanks was alive when he went back to the ward?'

'Of course I am! Are you accusing me of lying? Why would I lie?' he asked belligerently. 'The old chap even asked me if I would visit him on the ward because he's lonely. Anyway, the porter didn't turn up for absolutely ages. He obviously died after I had helped him back into the wheelchair.'

Mel had been watching him during this speech. She really didn't trust him. He was like a smarmy, slimy eel.

Darren sat there, sweating. He realised he should just have followed procedure, called a doctor to pronounce the old man dead. Yes, there would have been lots of forms, but he desperately hoped he could get through this without being found out. It was Mel's fault. She'd insisted that he did the X-ray. It could have been done using a mobile X-ray unit on the ward, although all the working mobile units were being used.

By the time their shift had ended, both radiographers felt they had worked harder than normal. A larger number of patients than normal came through. Mel noticed that since the old man had died, Darren had knuckled down and got on with the job, and hadn't moaned as usual.

Jas and another agency radiographer replaced them at 5 o'clock. When Darren saw Jas, he smiled and said 'Hello'. Mel could see that Jas was taken aback by his friendliness. Mel wondered if he'd taken on board the warning Steph had made to him.

Chapter 26 – I can't hide

' Darren, Ruth wants to see you in her office,' Jayne told Darren.

'I don't finish my shift until midnight,' he replied.

'Well, I don't know what she wants to see you about but she wants you now. I suggest you hot-foot it up there before she comes looking for you. I can cope for half an hour.'

Darren felt sick. He had a horrible feeling that it might be about the man who had died yesterday. He didn't know how anyone could be sure that the man had died in his care, but he'd better have a good story ready.

He slowly made his way up the stairs. He usually took the lift, but today he didn't want to get there too quickly. He needed to think of a good story. In retrospect, it would have been better to have followed procedure and alerted a doctor so the death would be certified. The completion of the forms and resultant investigation would have been nothing compared to what would happen if he was found out.

He lingered outside the door for a few moments, trying to still his racing heart. He had his story now. Knocking on the manager's door, he heard voices inside. On being called in he stood by the open door and saw that there was one of the registrars sitting on a comfortable chair. Next to him was someone Darren hadn't seen before. Ruth was, as usual, behind her desk.

'Darren, thanks for coming up. Come in, take a seat,' said the superintendent.

Darren, heart in mouth sat on a very uncomfortable chair. He realised he was leaning forward slightly and gripping the arms tightly. He forced himself to relax. It wasn't easy with three pairs of eyes on him. Sun streaming into his eyes through a crack in the vertical blinds added to his stress.

'I've asked you in to have your version of what happened yesterday when one of the in-patients you were X-raying was later found to have died.'

She looked at him. Darren felt she didn't look aggressive. Maybe it would all be all right. Just relax, he told himself. I can talk my way out of this.

'I've asked Mrs. Taylor, Mr. Shanks' consultant,' she nodded towards the woman Darren hadn't seen before, 'and Dr. Goodson, the doctor who pronounced Mr. Shanks dead, to join me.'

Darren acknowledged the two of them with a nod of his head to each. They were both looking at him and neither appeared to be friendly. Snooty buggers. These doctors and consultant surgeons thought they were better than everyone else. He decided not to say anything unless asked.

'Darren, we need to ascertain what happened and when yesterday. This is a normal procedure when someone dies in hospital. So, would you please tell us exactly what happened from the moment Mr. Shanks was brought into the X-ray department's waiting area.'

All three people were looking at him. He gulped, how to start? Then inspiration hit him.

'I was upset to hear he'd died. He was a nice old man. He was asleep when the porter brought him in. After the porter left I woke him up and checked his details with him.'

The consultant was looking at him intently, 'How did you check his details?'

Darren was confused. What a strange question.

'I asked him what his name was and his date of birth.'

The consultant asked, 'What was his reply?'

'He just told me his name and date of birth,' Darren replied, mystified. The first thing anyone did when dealing with patients was to do just that.

'Indeed?' she said. 'Do carry on.'

Darren looked at her nervously then carried on with his fictitious account of the event. 'I asked him to help me get him onto the bed,'

The consultant interjected, 'And did he understand you?'

'Oh yes,' said Darren, 'although I did have to raise my voice a little as he seemed a bit deaf.'

'Really?' asked the Consultant. 'A bit deaf?'

'Yes,' Darren said, with a tremor in his voice. Where was this going he asked himself.

'So, let's get this clear,' said his manager. 'You checked you had the correct patient, then asked him to get onto the bed, which he did?'

'Yes, he even made a joke that he wasn't as nimble as when he was younger. We had quite a laugh about it. Then I took two X-rays of his right hip.' Darren was aware that all three were studying him intensely. 'When we were finished I helped him back into the chair. I called the porter and he wheeled him back.' Darren felt he must have some strange form of Tourette's syndrome. Instead of keeping to his script his mouth was running away with him, elaborating.

'How was he when the porter arrived?' asked the doctor.

'Umm, he fell asleep immediately he sat in the chair and the porter came along a few minutes later. Mr Shanks was still asleep when the porter arrived to wheel him away.' Darren said, conscious of rivulets of sweat running down his forehead. He wanted to wipe them away but thought that might draw attention to him.

'Did you and he talk about anything else?' asked his manager.

'No, that was all,' said Darren.

She leaned forward. Darren felt like a naughty boy in the head teacher's office. 'You told your colleague, Melanie Garner, that you and he talked about something else,' she said.

Darren racked his brains. What had he said yesterday? He couldn't remember. He had to say something. They were all looking at him expectedly. Oh god, what was it? He could feel his heart pounding. Oh god.

'Darren, what else did the two of you discuss?' she persisted.

Then he remembered, 'Oh yes, I forgot, he asked me to visit him on the ward because he was lonely and didn't have any visitors,' he said, with relief.

'Really?' asked the Doctor Goodson.

'Yes,' said Darren. 'I told him I would pop up today to see him.'

A look passed between the other three, then his manager said, 'Thank you Darren. We're talking to everyone who was involved. The nurse on the ward, the porter and even though Melanie Garner wasn't there when Mr Shanks was being X-rayed, because you spoke to her straight after, we have interviewed her too. As is usual with this sort of event, we will produce a report. We may need to speak with you again. You may leave now.'

Darren felt as if his legs wouldn't work. He mumbled something and managed to haul himself up by holding the arms of the chair. He forced his legs to carry him to the door. His hands were so wet with sweat he struggled to turn the door handle.

He hot-footed it back to the department. Damn, damn, damn, he thought. Something isn't right. Surely it should all be plain sailing. I don't like this.

Inside the room behind him a discussion was taking place.

After a few minutes of sorting through the evidence offered by the other parties such as the porter and ward nurse, the doctor said, 'He must be telling lies. I've known Mr. Shanks for three years. He's been a frequent in-patient during treatment for asthma and other illnesses. He'd have had very little breath to say much and the fact that he's absolutely deaf, as deaf as a post means he couldn't have had any such conversations with anyone. And that twaddle about not having anyone to visit him. His daughter comes every single day. That young man is lying through his teeth.'

'I agree,' said the consultant, 'When he had a lung removed I saw him later. He was profoundly deaf. His daughter had him fitted for a hearing aid but he complained it whistled, so he wouldn't use it.'

'Did he have onset dementia or Alzheimers?' asked Ruth. 'I just wondered if he did manage to say something about not having visitors, and he'd forgotten his daughter,'

'No, he may have been old and decrepit but his mind was sound as a bell. Compos mentis. I admit Mr Shanks's death was not a surprise. We were expecting it any time, but there is something fishy here. That man is lying and I don't know why.'

The consultant said, 'Doctor Goodson, your report here shows that he was lying down when he died.'

'Yes,' said the doctor, 'I know that due to the livor mortis, the pooling of the blood as if he were in a prone position. It would have pooled quite differently if he'd died in the wheelchair. I agree, that man is a bare-faced liar.'

'Also,' said the consultant, 'the second X-ray indicates he was already dead. So, it looks like he died during the X-rays.'

'Good grief!' the superintendent said, so this radiographer X-rayed a dead man!'

'That's what the X-ray shows,' confirmed the doctor.

'Do either of you suspect foul play?' asked Ruth.

'No,' they said at once. 'I think the old chap died in the department and that the radiographer panicked and put him in a wheelchair,' the doctor mused.

'I will have to put this to a disciplinary committee. Whatever happened to the patient, we need to sort out quickly. We have to give the daughter permission to have the body collected by an undertaker. She doesn't understand why we're keeping the body and she isn't aware that we aren't happy about how he died,' said Ruth.

'There is another issue here,' said the consultant. The other two looked at her.

'If the patient was so ill, why wasn't a mobile X-ray unit used?'

Ruth looked thoughtful. 'The ward sister should have requested a mobile unit then the man wouldn't have had to be wheeled down to X-ray. I'll talk with the manager of the ward.'

The subject of their discussion was back in X-ray. Jayne asked, 'What's up? Was Ruth complaining about holidays again?' She was well aware of what had happened, having spoken to Mel. She also knew that an investigation was due. Suspecting he wouldn't tell her anyway, she thought she'd ask the question.

Darren's response was to mutter something under his breath and disappear into the staff room. He wanted to go home. Could he say he was ill? No, that would look even more suspicious. He would have to carry on. He knew what he'd done was wrong but the old chap would have died anyway. It's not as if I killed him, he thought.

Chapter 27 - Get your left and right, right

It was a beautiful, sunny day. Steph decided to have a really good spring-clean. Stuart was away at some sort of boring architect's convention. The children were at school. What she really wanted to veg on the settee, drink wine, eat chocolate and read the latest Jilly Cooper. It was a tough decision, but, she reasoned, the exercise would be good for her, and the house would look lovely. Leaving her mobile on charge, she donned an apron and rubber gloves and, armed with Cif bathroom cleaner, started work in the family bathroom.

Almost two hours later she collapsed onto a stool at the breakfast bar and checked her messages while the kettle was on. Only one message which was from her sister.

'Hi Sis, I've had a bust-up with Mum. When I told her I'm marrying a consultant oncologist, she actually congratulated me for having 'snagged' a good husband. For a few seconds she seemed happy. Of course, I soon put a stop to that when I told her he's black. I thought she was going to have a heart attack. When she came around, as predicted, she's 'forbidden' me to marry Joshua. Do you know what else she said? My marrying a black man is even worse than you marrying a bastard!!! Can you believe it? I told her that she isn't welcome at our wedding, and in fact, I never want to see her again. 'Bye.'

Great, thought Steph. Cecily's reaction was absolutely to type. She suspected Katrina had purposely set up the news by raising her mother's hopes of being able to boast about, 'my daughter's consultant oncologist husband' before smashing her dreams with the devastating news of Cecily going to have a black son-in-law. Seconds later her mobile rang and she saw 'Mum' on the screen. No way was she going to speak to the horrible woman. Then the landline rang. Her mother was certainly persistent. Steph ignored that too, made a coffee then sat down for a rest. Later, she listened to the message Cecily had left on the answering machine. In a nutshell, Steph was to tell Katrina to go home and tell her mother that she realised the huge mistake she was making, and that the wedding was off. Cecily had rambled on for longer, but Steph deleted the message. Well, she knew Robert would have absolutely no qualms welcoming his new son-in-law into the family. Whether Joshua would ever meet his mother-in-law was unlikely, and much better for him if he didn't.

One good thing was that Vera seemed to be settling into her new home without complaints by the care home manager, so far at least. Steph had visited her recently and was pleased that she looked less pasty-faced and was much cleaner, although it looked like her jumpers had been boiled. The house was currently being decorated before being put on the market. Cecily hadn't bothered to visit her, of course. Last night she had phoned Steph and harangued her again about the cost of her mother's care. Again, Steph suggested that Cecily collect Vera and look after her herself. The expected complaints just bored Steph.

Back to Katrina's wedding. She was going to have a wedding abroad, then on their return, a blessing here, with all the works. It seemed as if it would be exactly like a wedding, with bridesmaid etc. She may as well have had the wedding here. She wanted her sister to be happy, but surely marrying someone after such a short time was a recipe for disaster.

The dinner was cooking, and with her sister absent, Steph was enjoying a second glass of wine when the landline rang. It was Mel.

'How's things?' she asked.

'Lovely thanks, I'm cooking dinner and sampling some wine, purely research you understand.'

'Ha! Caught you. Aren't you supposed to be teetotal to support your sister?'

'Well, yes, but I have to celebrate her engagement.'

'Another one?' asked Mel incredulously.

'Yes. I hope this one lasts. I haven't met him but he seems a nice chap, if he can cope with Katrina. Anyway, how did it go today?'

'Ah, that's why I'm phoning. There has been another issue that Ruth marched in to see me about. It seems Sarah, the student, got her X-ray markers mixed up and labelled a foot as a left foot instead of a right foot. The doctor could easily tell which foot it was but unfortunately it was Felicity Godber-Forsketh, and when she realised a radiographer had made a mistake, she went straight to Ruth.'

'How petty,' Steph said. 'I bet she hoped I was on duty so she could get me into trouble.'

'No. you're off the hook because I was on duty. I'm being reprimanded for not supervising the student properly. She's right, but it's a pain. What's made it worse is the bitch demanded to see Sarah's markers. She produced some silly glittery ones that girls seem to like. That annoyed Ruth who then told me off for allowing her to buy them. I told her that I'm not her mother and if the girl wanted to buy them from Ebay, it was nothing to do with me, and that they work just as well, showing left and right. Anyway, just to warn you that Dr. High-and-Mighty-Godber-What's-It is out to get you.'

'She took an instant dislike to me when she saw me months ago, then I supposedly parked in 'Her' space. You know, I love the job but there are just so many horrible people we have to work with,' lamented Steph.

A third glass of wine was required, she decided, and wondered if it would be wise to delay buying a wedding outfit as her sister was bound to break the engagement.

Chapter 28 – Suspended

'Darren, can you swop a shift with me?' asked Adam. 'I want to go to the cinema with my new girlfriend.' Adam had seen Darren leaving the building and hoped that he'd be keen to have some extra work.

'No. I can't,' snapped Darren.

'I haven't told you when it is yet,' said Adam.

'It doesn't matter when it is, I can't do it. I've been suspended. Some fuss about an old man dying, long past his sell-by date.' Darren walked away, clutching a carrier bag containing his possessions.

The disciplinary hearing had been a few days after the meeting, with Ruth, Dr. Goodson and the consultant surgeon. Those three attended, plus two more professionals who gave evidence about the dead man's health and findings from his post mortem. They said they wouldn't normally have done a PM but because there was concern about the death one had been undertaken.

Darren was under pressure as they asked many searching questions including if he could explain how a profoundly deaf man could have a conversation of the type Darren mentioned. That one question had floored him and he'd finally admitted what happened. The response was that had he called a doctor to tend the patient and issue a death certificate, then the forms Darren would have needed to complete would have been no problem at all.

As it was, he'd been suspended for a month while they decided what to do with him. It hadn't helped his case when, during the hearing he'd said that he didn't know what the fuss was about as the old chap had no quality of life and was better off dead. He now realised that hadn't been very bright, and what had sealed his fate. What was he going to tell his wife?

'Steph, it's Mel, have you heard about Darren? He's been suspended for telling lies about that patient who died a couple of days ago.'

'I'd heard something was up. So, what do you think happened?' Steph asked.

'It seems the poor chap died on the X-ray table while I was doing mobiles, and that lazy so-and-so couldn't be bothered to follow our standard procedures. He put him back in the wheelchair, dead, and sent him back to the ward with the porter.'

'Good grief! What a stupid and unfeeling thing to do. I hope they sack him, no-one likes him,' Steph said.

'That would be great wouldn't it,' Mel agreed. 'I just hope I don't have to work with him again.'

'Me too,' said Steph.

Steph put down the phone and made herself a milky coffee. It wasn't too sinful if she used only skimmed milk. Sitting watching the squirrel trying to get past the baffle on the bird feeding pole was entertaining. Baffle was certainly the right name for the bowl-shaped plastic. One very young squirrel climbed up the pole and had been confused by the baffle seven times in as many minutes. It was fun watching him.

Cecily hadn't yet contacted Steph about taking Vera home with her. Steph knew she wouldn't. She bet she still hadn't visited her in the home.

Then the phone rang. She hoped it wasn't her mother, or the hospital asking her to go in to cover someone who might be sick. For a few seconds she was deciding to answer it or not. Maybe it was the school and one of the children was ill.

On the other end was Katrina. It was a bad line and Steph was having trouble hearing her sister who was shrieking. Steph wondered if she was being attacked. Eventually Steph gathered that her sister and Joshua had married in Las Vegas. Mad girl. Steph was sure this marriage would end in disaster like the other one. There was, however, no point discussing this with Katrina. It was too late.

'That's fantastic news,' Steph told her excited sister. 'Well that means I won't have to squeeze into a bridesmaid dress!'

'I'm so happy Steph. It's going to work this time, I just know it.'

'Give my love to my new brother-in-law,' said Steph, and then replaced the receiver. Having lived through the stream of Katrina's boyfriends, some of whom were fairly decent men, she was pessimistic about this one. Katrina's problem was that she had a rose-tinted view of relationships. She expected that warm glow, butterflies in her tummy and tempestuous sex to be as fresh after a couple of years as on day one. Most of her relationships had foundered after a matter of months. Her excuse would always be that her boyfriends had become boring. In reality, their relationships had come to a natural everyday level. Once it became 'comfortable' Katrina became depressed, and would seek a new, exciting, passionate relationship and expect it to last forever.

To marry one of them was, in her sister's opinion, crazy. They were going to spend a few weeks in America, touring. Steph sincerely hoped that Joshua could keep Katrina occupied until they had at least returned to England. She didn't want her sister storming out of the marriage and not have friends or family nearby to mop up the tears.

After a relaxing bath Steph gathered the ingredients for paella. Hers was a home-made recipe and was a cross between paella and risotto. Picking up the small plastic box of saffron she saw there was very little left. She agreed with the name 'Spanish gold' as it certainly cost a fortune. She'd made paella a few months before, omitting the saffron because she'd run out. The missing few strands of the expensive spice meant that the paella was quite bland.

The phone rang as she was cutting some butter to fry the garlic. She was surprised to hear Mel's voice again.

'Hi Steph, have you heard the one o'clock news?'

'No, what's happened?'

Mel was laughing as she said, 'Boney's been out and about again!'

Steph laughed too. 'What's he been up to?'

'He went out on the razzle last night, dressed in jeans, a leather jacket and a short black wig and a cap. Believe it or not he managed to get into the nightclub at the top of Harold Way this time.'

'No! You mean the huge bouncers that won't let anyone in who doesn't have more than three tattoos, loads of piercings and a £10 tip let him in?'

'That's the one. Five second-year medical students borrowed him and some third-year students bet then they couldn't get him into a nightclub again. Any night club. They lost their bet,' Mel said.

'How do you know this?' asked Steph who was laughing so much her stomach was aching.

'As soon as I finished my call to you someone showed me the images on You Tube. There are photos of him in the nightclub. You can see the bar in the background of one photo and he's even in the urinals! It's a scream. I couldn't ring you back as patients started streaming in. He now has his own Facebook page.'

'Were the medical students in the photos?'

'No, they had their faces turned away from the camera, but there was one on each side propping up Boney. Management's undertaking an investigation to find out who they were. Everyone's keeping their lips sealed.'

'And where's Boney now?'

'He was found this morning in the cleaner's cupboard by one of the cleaners. The one by the staff entrance at Horrock Street. So, they had taken him back after his night out, hidden him and then scarpered. He was still wearing the wig. I don't think anyone is going to confess. And you can bet Boney won't snitch on them'

'Thanks for telling me. He certainly gets about. You're sure they were student doctors?'

'Definitely. I heard some rumours in the staff canteen that they were second-year students. And it's typical of the sort of thing they do. Anyway, he's back in our department.'

Steph resumed making the paella after saying goodbye to Mel. She'd look at You Tube with Stuart tonight.

Medical students were notorious for amazing escapades. Last year, two student doctors had abseiled down the outside of the Westfield Mall. One was dressed as Spiderman and the other as a Scot with a kilt. By the time they were halfway down the three floors a crowd had gathered and were cheering them on. Some women were shouting for the tartan wearer to lift his kilt. Sirens a few minutes later foretold the arrival of the police. The crowd managed to slow down the progress of the police officers long enough for the miscreants to reach the bottom and disappear around the side of the mall. They were never caught, although many staff in the hospital knew who they were.

A couple of years ago six or seven fourth-year student doctors had streaked across the bridge at midnight. They were captured on CCTV but it was too dark for them to be identified. The only reason they were suspected to be med students was due to the fuzzy images of the stethoscopes each had trailing behind them around their necks. Hospital management were contacted by the police and asked to investigate. The memo that was sent round to all staff and students forbid such silly and immoral behaviour, but a week after the incident Steph overheard some of the senior managers laughing about the incident. The grapevine identified the streakers, but management felt no-one had been hurt and were happy to let it go.

Steph thought it funny that medical students undertook some quite awful behaviour, such as 'borrowing' one of the real body parts they were using for study in lectures, and producing them at inappropriate times to frighten people. She herself experienced one such incident a few years before.

She and a student radiographer were taking a break together when she saw one of the three medical students at the next table put a hand onto the shoulder of a young student nurse in front of him. She turned to see who was touching her shoulder, didn't see anyone there but could see the scarred hand and probably smelled the formaldehyde, and jumped up screaming hysterically. One of the medical students snatched the hand from the floor and shoved it into the pocket of his white coat. All three carried on eating and laughing, completely lacking sympathy for the poor girl.

That time, with so many witnesses about, the three were hauled over the coals and warned if they misbehaved again their placements would be withdrawn at the hospital.

Steph thought it strange that reckless and thoughtless med students eventually turned into doctors responsible for life and death decisions. Some became consultant surgeons with a disdain for everyone else.

The children came in from school, having been dropped off by the mother of one of their friends. Jake came dashing into the kitchen, tie skew-whiff, hole in the knee of his trousers and drying mud on his shoes.

'Jake! Please return to the hall and remove your shoes!' his mother shouted. Her son duly ran to kick off his shoes, one bouncing off the wall adding to the other muddy marks, and then reappeared in the kitchen, hoping for something to tide him over until tea-time.

'Jake, what happened to your trousers?'

The boy looked at her with an attempt at looking innocent, and failing.

'Jake?'

'Um, I fell down.'

'What were you doing when you fell down?'

'Nothing.'

'Jake, if you HAD been doing nothing you wouldn't have fallen down and I wouldn't have to throw your trousers away. So, what were you doing?'

This was an all-too-frequent event. Steph had an idea what he was probably doing. No doubt climbing a tree, again. Jake's eyes searched around the kitchen for some distraction for his mother. Then he had an inspiration.

'Got to do my homework now,' he said and was off, running into the hall then upstairs before she could grab him. The little monster. He never started his homework until he had a bite to eat. Steph knew that the children always came home feeling hungry, despite the quantity of food they had for lunch. As she liked them to eat together as a family, where possible, she always gave them something, usually a piece of fruit and a glass of milk before they started their homework.

Oh well, Jake would have to go to school tomorrow in the trousers that were in the washing machine. She hadn't turned it on yet as there weren't enough clothes for a full load. She'd get them out and he could go in dirty trousers. She fleetingly thought that it would teach him a lesson, but of course he couldn't care less if his clothing was clean or not. He was a boy! The only result of sending him in dirty trousers was that the school staff and other parents would think she couldn't be bothered to wash them. Damn, she'd better wash them now and try to get them dry by the morning.

Chapter 29 – I want to see a real doctor

'I don't want to be seen by some unqualified man who won't know what's wrong with me!' Steph could hear the shouting as she walked through reception on her way to the X-ray department. She felt sufficiently nosey to hang around for a bit.

'Mr. Smith, IS qualified. He's a very highly qualified consultant,' Steph heard the despairing receptionist Faith say. There was a long queue of people behind a small old man who had a dowager's hump. He was bent almost double.

'Just because I'm old you think I can be palmed off with some kid fresh out of school. "Mr" indeed. I demand to see a proper doctor, one with sustificates.' The old man might be small and not able to look above three feet because of the curvature of his spine, but he knew what he wanted. The receptionist looked harassed. The queue was becoming longer and a rumbling came from some of those waiting.

Steph caught Faith's eye. She got on well with Faith and hoped she could help. She approached the old man, who could probably only see up to her waist, then addressed Faith, 'Faith, I understand we have another doctor called Dr. Smith. He could see this gentleman.'

Faith looked confused for a moment, then the penny dropped and she said, 'Oh yes, that doctor. I will send you through to him.'

'Good, wish you'd done that before. Wasting mine and everyone else's time,' replied the patient.

Over his head Faith winked at Steph, passing the man's file to the volunteer who would accompany the patient to Mr. Smith's clinic.

The receptionist then dealt with the next person in the queue and Steph went on her way, chuckling to herself, and wondering if the old man would make another fuss when he was seen by a Mr. Smith, not a Doctor Smith.

It was a lovely sunny day. That was outside. Inside it was anything but sunny. Ruth had arrived in a vile mood. This meant that anything or anybody who came near would suffer assault of some form or other. Steph happened to be showing a patient out when Ruth came in, marching like a soldier on a mission. Steph half expected her to pull out a gun and randomly shoot anyone in range. Her brows were closer together and her forehead puckered. Her face was distorted. She looked like she was practising for a gurning competition.

She rarely actually came down to the department, but had done so more frequently of late. Staying in her office and calling people up for a bollocking was her normal style. But every now and again, when she was in a bad mood, she'd suddenly appear looking like a mad bull. Staff felt that at any moment steam would come hissing out of her nostrils.

Today she was definitely in an absolutely horrendously vile mood. Her eyes were like gimlets. The pancake on her face was thicker than normal. Steph had seen her once when she'd run from her car into the hospital during a really heavy rainstorm. Ruth hadn't used an umbrella and had water streaming down her face. Before she'd managed to find a trowel to slather on more concealer, Steph had seen her face, partly devoid of her mask. It was very badly sun-damaged, with dark pigmentation. By the time the manager had stormed up to the X-ray department via the staff toilets, the plasterers had done their job and her face no longer looked like she'd been splattered through a colander with various shades of brown.

What had started as a pretty good day for Steph was destined to end badly. Her shift being only nine a.m. to five p.m. on a lovely sunny day meant Steph had been looking forward to a short shift and to be able to go home in daylight. Now, with Ruth on the horizon, coming towards the department, it was like a dark storm, with thunderbolts shooting her way.

What now, Steph wondered. That woman has to have something to moan about. She's only happy when she's shouting. Steph gritted her teeth and waited for the fireworks.

'Why didn't someone tell me that on-call room number three has a hole in the ceiling?' the dreaded manager started shouting while not quite in the room. 'And where is that student?' This last was as she reached the doorway.

'Which student?' replied Steph, thinking I will NOT let her upset me. She's just a bully. Someone who knew her at school said she was a bully there.

'That student who has dyed her hair pink.'

'What's her name?'

'I can't remember her name. You should know which one I'm talking about. She had her hair dyed a few days ago and I saw her and told her she must change it back to its original colour. Then half an hour ago I looked out of my office window and saw her walking across the car park.'

Steph wanted to say that she wasn't in charge of all the radiography students. She mentored a couple, like Blaize, but she didn't know the names of all the students who rotated across the other hospitals in the group. She knew Blaize hadn't dyed her hair, but didn't know who had.

Telling the Rottweiler that she didn't know which student it was wouldn't be accepted. She thought the best tactic would be to offer to find out. This was greeted with, 'And I want that information by four.' Ruth turned around and went through to the waiting area.

Steph then heard her shout, 'Mrs Kerris, there are patients here you should be dealing with. Do your job!' Ruth then stormed off to ruin somebody else's day.

The stupid woman doesn't realise that if she hadn't kept me I would have dealt with the patients. Steph went through to the waiting area which was crowded. Why hadn't anyone pressed the buzzer, she wondered. At first Steph thought there must have been a mistake and half of them due somewhere else in the hospital. She checked her patient list and saw she should have only four patients. Maybe they were from A&E. There were thirteen adults and two primary school age children. OK, so some bring spouses or partners, but even so there were too many people. If most of them were patients it was going to take a while to get through the list.

One group of eight was chatting loudly. They appeared to be together. She approached them and asked who were waiting for X-rays. A man of about seventy with a bald head and long white beard nodded at her. Jake would have said his head was on upside down.

'I'm Ben Taggert.'

'Well Mr. Taggert, are all these people with you?' Steph asked.

'Aye, they are.'

'I think it would be best if they waited in the main waiting area near the hospital entrance,' she told him.

'No, we want to be with Dad,' said one of the men.

'Yes,' said a woman, 'we're here to give him support during this.'

'There isn't enough room here for you all, how about one of you stays?' suggested Steph. There followed a noisy discussion about who should go and who should stay. Leaving them to it for a moment, Steph was just about to call one of the other patients when she heard her manager returning. Ruth was shouting, and her high heels clicking on the hard floor outside. Oh no, Steph thought, why does she have to come in now?

The family were still holding a loud discussion. It was too late to shove them out of the door. Ruth came storming in. She stood just inside the door and looked around. Her eyes settled on the noisy family, who had not noticed her arrival.

'What are you all still doing here?' she shouted at them. So engrossed were they with their discussion they didn't hear her. Steph was an interested bystander for the moment. Her manager was not used to being ignored. It may have been the first time ever. She marched up to them and said, 'What's going on here? This is not a tea party. Are you all waiting for X-rays?'

One of the women turned to look at her. 'Hello love,' she said. 'We're here with Dad. He's been taken poorly during his birthday party. He's seventy today you know.'

'So,' said Ruth, 'what are the rest of you doing here? I'm surprised the radiographer hasn't told you to go,' this last accompanied by a look at Steph that could turn vintage wine to vinegar.

'I had just requested that all but one of them stays,' said Steph.

'Quite right! You there,' shouted Ruth, pointing at Mr. Taggert, 'You stay, the rest of you go.'

The group looked at her, as one.

Then a woman said, 'He's our dad. If we want to stay we will. There are only eight of us.'

Ruth was not used to being challenged. For a moment she was dumbstruck. Then, turning back to Steph she said, 'You shouldn't allow so many people to gather here. Sort it out!' With that she marched out.

'Wow, what a witch,' said one of the men. Sometimes Steph felt that there was a part of her that rebelled. Today was one of those days.

'Mr. Taggert, you are second on the list. Perhaps if your family were to sit down and keep the noise down they can stay after all.' Steph half hoped that Ruth would return and see that she'd been ignored. At least she'd forgotten about the hole in the ceiling in room three. Although why she thought Steph would know anything about it was anybody's guess.

Steph started going through the general practitioner referral list. GPs would refer patients for X-rays. Most of these were non-urgent. Rarely were people booked in. The GP would give them a form to take to radiography, and it was first come first served.

An hour later there was only one man left. He was immense. Steph wasn't sure how much he weighed but he was certainly a good size.

'He's eaten all the pies,' her mother would say.

Mr. Leslie Prout was squeezed onto one of the plastic and metal chairs. He had a walking stick leaning against his knee, and was fiddling with an old camera.

'Mr. Prout, would you come through please?' Steph asked.

The man tried to get up from the chair by leaning forward. Suddenly he seemed to go backwards and ended up on his back with his legs in the air looking like a beetle. Steph realised that the back legs of the chair had bent and catapulted the man onto the floor.

He was groaning, and quite still. Steph decided that if he was groaning then at least he was alive. She called a couple of porters to see if they could help the man up from the floor. She also rang for a doctor in case he'd damaged himself. He was more worried about his camera. He mumbled something about dealing in second-hand cameras. The radiographer couldn't see why he'd carry around with him a half plate ancient camera that looked like it wouldn't work. None so queer as folk. Soon after Percival had been taken away to be treated for a head injury, another patient came through.

It was a young woman in her mid-twenties. The X-ray request sheet said she'd been complaining about pain in her left breast. She'd presented at A&E and immediately sent up for an X-ray. Steph had her remove her T-shirt and bra and took two exposures. While she was taking the images, the woman said the pain had stopped. The woman put her clothes back on in the cubicle. Steph looked at the images and couldn't see anything wrong. She went through to the changing room and told the woman she could return to A&E.

'Funny, but the pain has come back again,' the woman said. 'It stopped when I was having the X-rays. Isn't that weird?'

Steph agreed it was strange, then had a sudden thought. 'Miss. Slaight, is your bra an under-wired one?'

The young woman looked at her as if she was mad. Steph could see her thinking, 'What's that got to do with anything?'

Steph decided to explain, 'I just wondered if your bra might be causing the pain. How about you return to the changing room and remove it?'

Still looking at her as if she was mad, the woman did so. She came out wearing the T-shirt and holding her bra out for Steph to see.

'Gosh, you were right. That's what it was,' the young woman said. She passed the bra to Steph who could see that the underwire from the support in the bra had worked its way through the material and had been sticking into the woman's breast. No wonder she was in pain, thought Steph.

'Well I'm glad it was such a simple remedy,' Steph said. 'You had better return to A&E to tell them.'

'I will, and thanks, but I feel so silly,' the woman said.

'I wouldn't feel silly. I'm just glad it wasn't something really nasty.'

The woman went on her way, the bra in her bag and her nipples prominent. She'll raise a few eyebrows when she returns downstairs to see the doctor, Steph thought.

That evening, after the children went to bed, Steph and Stuart sat at opposite ends of the settee, feet on each other's laps. Sipping her chilled wine Steph sighed, 'What a day, I haven't heard from Katrina so I presume she and Joshua are OK.'

Stuart put his glass down and started massaging her toes.

'Ooohhm, that's lovely, keep it up.' Stretching, she revelled in having the next three days off. 'I'm going to enjoy not having to go to work and put up with that awkward woman,' she told her husband. 'No blood, vomit or sputum.'

'What, does she do all that as well?' Stuart asked.

'No silly, she doesn't have any blood in her body, but she does tend to spit when she's angry. Anyway, while the children are at school I'm going to spring clean then spend the rest of the time relaxing. Glorious.'

Chapter 30 – The blessing

Nearing the church, Stuart searched for a parking space. The rain was thumping down and because the children had played up at home, their departure for the church was seriously delayed. The car's wipers were on double speed as Stuart leaned forward, peering hopefully for a space not too far away from the church. He'd already queued to go around the full church car park, and followed other drivers back out onto the road.

'Do you think all these cars are for Katrina's blessing?' Steph asked. 'We don't have the wrong time, do we? We haven't come for someone else's wedding? A really big one?' She scrabbled in her bag for the invitation. She sighed with relief, 'It's OK, We're at the right church at the right time. There aren't many guests on our side of the family. Most of these cars must be from Joshua's side.'

'There's one Daddy! Look. That red car is pulling out,' shouted Jake in his dad's ear. His father jumped in shock and hit the kerb.

'Damn!! I bet that's done some damage to the alloy.' He pulled into the space then the four of them ran towards the church. By the time they reached the porch their feet were particularly wet and Steph's carefully blow-dried hair hung like rat's tails.

'Why didn't you drop the three of us at the church before you looked for a space. We're soaked,' she hissed as she wiped her face with tissues. Stuart thought that maybe now wasn't the time to say she looked like a panda, with her mascara having run. But then, he thought, if he didn't tell her she'd be mad and tell him off. He thought the comment about not dropping them off at the church was an unfair one, as if she'd requested he'd have done so. Neither of them had thought of it at the time.

Steph had dressed the children in the clothes Katrina had chosen with them. The shopping trip must have been expensive, Steph thought. The three of them had been out for six hours, too long for children this age, and when they returned they were laden with bags from various clothes shops, plus each had a Toys R Us bag too. Katrina seemed to have been conned into buying them not inexpensive toys.

As it was a church blessing there wouldn't normally be bridesmaids but Katrina didn't adhere to convention. Gemma had wanted to be a bridesmaid. So, Aunty Katrina had let her choose her own dress. It looked more like a wedding dress for a very small adult. Lots of pink tulle and a tiara made of fresh roses. She was also sporting a pair of pink patent leather party-type shoes. It wasn't appropriate but no less so than the brides' wedding dresses they had seen on My Big Fat Gypsy wedding. Thank goodness her daughter hadn't wanted flashing lights adorning her dress too. The Toys R Us bag held the latest Barbie plus three outfits.

Her son had refused to wear a page boy outfit, or even a suit, so his aunt agreed he could have a new pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, plus a new game for his Nintendo DS. To the uninitiated observer the one child looked like she was the birthday girl at a party, whereas the boy looked like he was supposed to be in the garden knocking a football about.

Katrina had wanted her sister to be maid of honour but Steph made it clear she'd be happier sitting with her family and watching proceedings.

Steph was just looking at the thirty or so wet umbrellas resting in and near the metal umbrella holder, and wished she'd thought to bring hers, when she saw Gemma trip and fall. The tiled entrance floor was slippery from people's wet shoes. After the child had caught her breath she made a horrendous noise, crying extremely loudly, causing other people to turn and stare. Great, thought Steph, I hope she stops bawling before the ceremony starts. Within minutes Steph could see a lump starting to grow on her daughter's cheek and felt guilty. There would be a beautiful bruise tomorrow.

Stuart looked well turned out as usual. He always wore a suit for work and had seven of them in various colour ways and styles. The lilac shirt and mauve tie looked surprisingly fetching. Steph wore a blue and white cotton dress with a matching bolero. When they took their seats, they were surprised to see how many people neither of them knew already seated.

Steph's parents were there, sitting apart like bookends on an empty shelf. Knowing it would cause her grief later, but not caring, Steph slid her way along the bench on the end where her father was seated. He was about to move up, nearer his wife, but Steph indicated that she was going to sit next to him and Stuart sat on the side of his mother-in-law but still leaving a big gap. Steph was surprised that she was there. Cecily was wearing a brand-new outfit, or at least Steph hadn't seen it before. It was a strange shade of what could only be described as mustard. It was quite ghastly, and looked expensive. Surely now she should be watching her pennies, her daughter thought.

The object of Steph's surreptitious glances was staring straight ahead, no recognition of her daughter or husband. Good, thought Steph. I don't want to have anything to do with her any more. I wish I could divorce her. She was absolutely sure her mother hadn't approved of this union between her younger daughter and a complete stranger, a black stranger. Pondering this, while listening to the organist playing, she decided that her mother had turned up just so that she could obviously ignore her husband, both daughters and the groom.

'Sweetheart,' said Stuart, tapping her on her arm, 'Do you have a mirror?'

Steph looked at him with eyebrows raised, 'You aren't normally fussed about your appearance.'

'No, it's you, your mascara has run.'

His wife glared at him, 'Why didn't you tell me earlier?' Stuart felt he couldn't win.

After she'd managed to remove the panda look Steph relaxed then could hear people filing into the pews behind, a couple of children crying, and others kicking what sounded like the pew in front. Then she heard her husband produce a soft chuckle. Turning towards him she caught his eye and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. He mouthed quietly into her ear, 'Have you seen the concoction on that woman's head?' using his head to indicate a woman sitting in the first pew on the groom's side.

She certainly had a rather awful thing perched on her head. It wasn't as bad as that dreadful beetle shaped monstrosity Beatrice had on her head for Prince William and Kate's wedding, but she may well have copied the idea of a jaw dropper hat for effect.

Her dress was a very pale lemon, with a lemon and pale orange bolero. An unusual colour choice but not too bad. Her hat, however, was absolutely ghastly. It was mainly orange, with yellow and grey hints. The long black feathers, but, made a strange hat into an excrescence. Steph wondered who she was, then realised that as the woman was sitting on the front row she was, in all probability, Joshua's mother.

Leaning over to whisper in her husband's ear, she said, 'You would think someone would have told her how hideous her outfit is.'

'Maybe her personality is as frightening as her attire,' Stuart replied with a grin. 'It's probably like those people who go on X Factor thinking they can sing, and obviously can't, but their family and friends are too frightened to tell them.'

'Do you think she's Joshua's mum?' asked Steph. 'If so, I bet she and Katrina don't get on. My sister is outspoken and would probably answer back if there's friction between them.'

Joshua was standing at the front, waiting for his bride. Steph had to admit he was good looking. Whether he could keep her sister occupied for at least a couple of months would remain to be seen.

Four children were waiting at the rear of the room for Katrina to arrive. There were Jake and Gemma plus another boy and girl who had coffee-coloured skin. All were in age range of about five to nine years. Wondering who they were and just as she was leaning in to ask Stuart if he had any idea, the organist started playing the Wedding March very slowly. In fact, it was much too slow. Steph wondered how slow he'd play at a funeral.

Once Jake and Gemma had followed their aunt up the aisle they were to sit with their parents on the front row. They would have to sit next to their grandma, whether they or she liked it or not. Where the other two children to sit would soon be revealed, but Steph thought it likely they were Joshua's children.

As Katrina passed by she caught her sister's eye, and winked. She looked absolutely beautiful, thought Steph, and that wink had made her look a little mischievous too.

Jake and Gemma slipped in to sit by their grandma. Because she was sitting next to the central aisle the two children had to climb over her. Being clumsy children, it sounded like they had managed to kick their grandma judging by the hissing that erupted from her. Her bad mood would worsen now the children had trodden on her corns.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the other two children were sitting next to a white woman in her mid-thirties and a grey-haired man. Steph's interest was piqued. She'd find out at the reception who they were.

After the ceremony, which was similar to a real wedding, Steph thought, there were photos to be taken in the park over the road. The children had behaved well thus far, probably because they didn't have time to be bored. In the park but, as people were milling around waiting to be called by the official photographer, the four raced around the park, in and out of the rose beds. Steph could see what was going to happen but was too far away to prevent it. Gemma's dress caught in some rose thorns but Gemma kept moving forward before she realised what had happened. Her dress was in ribbons on the left and she was stuck.

Steph ran over followed by several others. It was quickly obvious that the child could not be extracted without cutting the material. When this was suggested she became upset and started crying. Steph told her it was her own fault and she shouldn't have been running around. This was not the support her daughter expected and the crying increased in intensity. Tough luck, thought Steph. She wanted to look like a fairy princess for the day and had ended up looking like Cinderella who'd been in a fight wearing a damaged cast off.

Scissors are not the normal item women carry in their handbags, at least in Steph's opinion. People, mainly men, often make sarcastic remarks about everything but the kitchen sink in their partners' bags. This time, however, one of the guests produced a small card knife with small scissors which she handed to Steph. It took a few minutes and many scratches before Gemma was released, still loudly mourning the once beautiful dress.

Unfortunately, the children hadn't been in any photos apart from a few in the church entrance, so now that Gemma was called by the photographer, it was difficult to conceal the damage. Oh well, Steph thought, I didn't have to pay for the dress and as it will have to be thrown away we won't have to give it valuable wardrobe space. Every cloud has a silver lining.

The bride looked beautiful and the groom handsome.

As each group of guests was being assembled to pose with the bride and groom, Steph's suspicion that the woman and the dreadful hat was Joshua's mother was confirmed. She posed alongside a distinguished looking man, presumably her husband. Now her face could be seen she portrayed the same disagreeable expression as Steph's mother. Steph hoped Katrina would have only rare contact with her mother-in-law. The man, if he was the groom's father, looked downtrodden but friendly. Steph realised she was describing her own parents.

'I wonder how long this wedding will last? The bride looks flighty,' Steph overheard someone behind her say. She rounded on the woman and told her off. Later, she admitted that the woman had only said what she herself was thinking.

Finally, the photographer packed up and went and everyone walked over the road to the Belchester Hotel. Again, despite it not being a 'proper' wedding, there were tables and chairs dressed in lilac and white, with centre pieces of bird cages decorated with lilac and white roses. It did look stunning but Steph felt the whole thing over the top, especially as it was just a blessing. Oh well, she thought, if it makes her happy.

Almost everyone was happy, apart from Gemma and her grandmother and almost certainly the groom's mother. All through the day Steph's mother and Katrina's mother in law had looked miserable, casting a real cloud over the event. Steph had warned her sister that Cecily might cause trouble, but so far, she'd just glowered at her husband whenever he was in the room. Setting tradition aside, Robert sat well away from his wife on the top table. He gave a lovely speech as the bride's father and made reference to having attended his elder daughter's wedding. At that, Cecily made a sort of porcine-explosion, snorting like a pig but then quickly subdued. She was clearly annoyed at the news that her husband had disobeyed her and been at Steph's wedding. As Robert's speech reached its conclusion people closest might have heard his wife still muttering, but Steph couldn't hear what she said.

The groom's father gave a good speech too, about gaining a daughter. Again, mirroring the other mother in law, Joshua's mother appeared to be grumbling. She certainly didn't appear to be happy with her son's choice of partner.

The best man's speech, following tradition, was entertaining, with references to Joshua's younger, and wilder days, including some obtuse references resulting in whoops and whistles from his university and work friends. No mention was made of his first marriage.

The food was mediocre. Both the soup and salad were tepid. After speeches and toasts there was the first dance. Katrina looked absolutely beautiful and the couple gazed into each other's eyes as they danced around the floor. Then others joined in.

'I bet this wedding package cost a fortune, but they serve us rubbish. How about we slip out and grab a Big Mac?'

'You're joking, right?' Steph asked Stuart. 'I know the food was bland, but there was lots of it. And don't you think we will be missed?'

'We can leave the kids here, and let Robert know we're taking twenty minutes. He can keep an eye on them.'

Despite her better judgement, Steph let herself be persuaded, and after grabbing their coats they dashed out into the rain and ran across the road towards an American diner. Luckily the rain was more of a drizzle. The nearest McDonalds was miles away, which pleased Steph. She'd taken the children for so many happy meals, she couldn't face another burger. For a while she'd eaten chicken salads, but quickly became fed up of those too.

She and Stuart looked out of place in the diner, but after some quick glances from some of the other casually dressed diners, they were ignored. Stuart settled for a double rack of ribs and fried, and Steph had a chocolate sundae. After coffees they slipped back to re-join the wedding party. A couple of minutes after their arrival, Katrina rushed over to her sister and said she'd been searching for her. Steph mumbled about having popped out for a few minutes.

'Steph, have you been eating chocolate ice-cream?'

'Umm, yes, how do you know?'

'Well, apart from the chocolate ice-cream and some chocolate vermicelli on your dress, Stuart has ketchup or something on his tie,' replied the bride. 'I wish you'd told me you were slipping out and I'd have gone with you. The wedding meal was atrocious.'

Steph laughed. 'The bride can't go off for a burger!'

'Don't see why not. And I bet Joshua would have come with us.'

The two women giggled and the older sister enjoyed this new close relationship with Katrina. She did so hope this marriage would work out.

Steph had not met Joshua, Katrina's new husband, due to the whirlwind romance having been kept private. After several dances with Stuart who had two left feet, despite a term of dancing lessons at the local community centre, she was surprised to be invited to dance by the groom. As usual, she felt self-conscious following her sister as his partner. He danced surprisingly well and again she was embarrassed that she wasn't a much better dancer than her husband. She'd not wanted to accept his invitation; but realised it might seem that she was making a statement that she didn't approve of the marriage.

Over his shoulder she could see Katrina dancing with Stuart. At one point, Steph caught her husband's eye and he blew her a kiss. At the end of the dance she expected to be escorted back to her chair, but Joshua held onto her and after another two dances she was out of breath and her high heels pinched so she was happy to rest.

During the dances they had made idle chit-chat and he mentioned how thrilled he was to have found Katrina. He seemed a lovely man, but Steph was wise enough to know that she had a poor record of sussing someone out from the first meeting. She was still concerned that he might end up having a dubious past. Only time will tell, she thought. Katrina knew that whatever happened, she could always retreat to Steph's loving home.

After another couple of dances with his bride, Joshua approached his new mother in law, hand outstretched, inviting her to dance. Several people were watching including Katrina, and she and Steph were mortified when Cecily very rudely refused him. Steph didn't know what words she used but Joshua recoiled, looked taken aback, and then turned swiftly away, heading towards the bar to chat with his friends.

With anger building up in her Steph approached her mother and, in whispers, laid into her for her lack of manners. She knew other guests were watching, and her annoyance escalating, she berated her mother. Cecily was shocked and couldn't get a word in. Steph told her she was rude, stuck up, bigoted and unlovable. Her tirade, still in a stage whisper, culminated in Steph telling her mother that she was going to grow into a lonely and unloved old woman, and that Steph definitely was never going to have anything to do with her again, and that she doubted Katrina would bother too.

A deep blush during this public humiliation covered her mother's face. Once her anger was spent, Steph copied her new brother in law by turning on her heel and approaching the bar. He'd obviously seen the incident and gave a wan smile at her as she approached.

'I'm so sorry, Joshua. I shouldn't have to but I must apologise for my mother's actions. I suggest that you've as little to do with her as possible. I will certainly avoid her. Welcome to our family. I must assure you that we're nothing like her.' She then gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Over his shoulder she saw that her mother had left the table, and Steph wished she'd witnessed her daughter's welcome to the man she'd rebuffed minutes before.

Gemma and Jake spent most of the time running around the room with the two children from Joshua's side of the family. Whether they were relatives or the offspring of friends she didn't know. She saw the slender woman sitting with a tall, older black man.

Having recovered her breath Steph asked Stuart to dance with her. He was not the type of man to make the suggestion. During their dance she told her husband what she'd said to her mother and that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her mother ever again. Stuart felt that would be great but unrealistic, but he didn't say so. After another dance they sat down.

'Who do you think the woman in the peach suit is?' she asked Stuart.

'That's Joshua's ex-wife and her husband.'

Taken aback she asked, 'So are those her children?'

'I think so.'

'So,' said Steph probing further,' are the children hers with that man or are they Joshua's'

'I overheard someone saying that they're Joshua's and that she left him for that chap over there,' her husband said.

'But he looks old enough to be her father!'

Stuart looked at her with amusement. 'It has been known you know.' Seeing her craning her neck to have a better look he said, 'I hope they don't see you staring.'

'Katrina didn't tell me he'd been married and had children.'

'I expect she thought it was irrelevant.'

'Or she knew I wouldn't approve,' she said.

'Why are you so interested in Joshua's children? asked Stuart.

Steph looked at him in surprise. Men could be so ingenuous, she thought. 'Because that makes us their step-aunt and uncle. I don't know, looking at the miserable face their mother presents, whether we'd ever get to see them, let alone develop a relationship.'

Cecily failed to return to the reception, to the relief of her family. Robert was enjoying himself, and she noticed he'd decided not to invite Joshua's miserable mother to dance. Probably because, Steph thought, he too expected to be rebuffed. She was pleased to see that her father was much sought after by several matronly ladies, the last of whom, she discovered, was Joshua's aunt. The two had several dances, and then retired to the terrace where they chatted for over an hour. Not that Steph was spying, of course.

Later, at home in bed, Steph thought about Joshua and mused, 'He actually seemed nice.' The response from her husband was a soft, whistle type snore. Steph picked up her novel, too wide awake to even attempt to sleep.

Chapter 31 – Look what I've shoved up my nose

The referral form from A&E asked for an image of a child's nose. This was quite common, and usually it followed a bump on the ground, from a bicycle, or after falling downstairs or out of a tree. Jas looked at the referral form. It said it was suspected there were small magnets up the girl's nose. An image would be required to ascertain whether they actually were there and exactly where and their size.

The child's mother brought her in, but was also accompanied by three other children. Steph and Jas estimated that the four kids were aged between two and seven. The three elder kids, two boys and a girl, were running around the waiting area, shouting. They appeared to be playing 'tag'. The older children were quicker than the younger, so caught him every time, resulting in whoops of laughter.

The other two patients in the waiting area looked immensely irritated. Another irritation was one of the florescent lights which was flickering in the waiting area. It had been reported to the maintenance department the previous day and nothing had been done about it. Mel had told Steph that, when she rang through to maintenance, the man who answered the phone told her to turn it off then it wouldn't flicker. Mel told him that if the switch was turned off everyone would be in the dark as the one switch was connected to all the lights.

His reply had been, 'Well you either put up with the flickering or everyone sits in the dark. I've far more important things to sort out.'

'Excuse me Mrs. Tyler, can you stop the children running around. They need to sit quietly,' Jas said to the harassed looking mother. The mother responded shouting a stream of expletives to her children who took absolutely no notice.

Jas should have X-rayed the child last of the three patients as the other two arrived first, but turning to the other two asked, 'Would you mind if I X-ray this little girl first?' pointing to the child sitting on her mother's lap.

Both said, 'Yes, go ahead,' with what looked like relief. They gave the impression they would agree to anything to get the kids out and have some peace and quiet. Jas turned back to the mother and Steph took one of the other patients into the other X-ray room.

'I will do Emily's X-ray now,' Jas told the mother. 'Please remain here and control your children. They must sit still and be quiet.'

'I'm sorry, but they never do anything I say. They only listen to their father.'

The radiographer said to the children, 'Sit down, keep quiet and behave.' She hadn't even raised her voice but the three children stopped in their tracks and then did as they were told.

The mother looked at her, 'Why won't they take notice of me?' she asked. Jas didn't say anything but thought it might be that the mother was obviously worn out and the kids knew they could walk all over her.

Taking Emily's hand, she took her into the X-ray room. Immediately the link between mother and daughter was broken the child started screaming.

The mother rushed in and snatched up her child. 'She wants me with her,' she said. Jas thought, here we go again.

'Mrs. Tyler, you cannot stay in the X-ray room due to radiation.' Jas wished she'd been given a penny for each time she said that, and another penny for what she absolutely knew was coming next. She'd be rich.

'But if it's not safe for me then it must be even more unsafe for my little girl,' came the predictable response.

Jas spent a further couple of minutes explaining about the very low radiation released by the X-rays, but that it was hospital policy, where possible, that only the patient was taken into the imaging room. Finally, she persuaded the mother to return to the waiting area. After some coaxing the child did as she was told and a couple of X-rays were taken to Jas's satisfaction.

There on the screen were two small magnets high up in the nasal passages. Luckily the child was still able to breathe, but it was probably going to require an operation to remove them. They were very firmly stuck together with a very small bit of flesh between them. It was the first X-ray of this that Jas had seen since university and Jas was quite fascinated. She took the child back to the apprehensive mother who asked if the magnets were there as suspected. Jas confirmed they were there and that a consultant radiographer would look at the images and make a decision re what to do next.

'I told her to blow her nose hard and they would fly out,' said the mother. Feeling that the child would have to blow her nose like an elephant to separate the magnets, Jas starting marshalling the mother and her noisy tribe out to the corridor.

'Can't you just stick some tweezers up and get them out?' the mother asked.

'No. It has to be done very carefully and the consultant will discuss with you how it will be done. I suggest you go down to A&E and wait there.' Jas replied.

'What if she sniffs hard and they go into her lungs?' asked the mother.

'It is highly unlikely that will happen,' said Jas and turned to call the next patient.

Steph rang maintenance again and the person there said there wasn't a note about a flickering light and that she should turn that one off. Steph told them the same as Mel, and the answer was the same; sit in the dark or put up with the flickering.

Mrs. Trascom-Chater, waiting for a hip X-ray, complained that the flickering light was probably going to give her an epileptic fit. Steph dealt with her quickly then phoned maintenance again. No joy.

'Look luv, We're too busy for something so trivial.'

Half way through her shift Steph could bear the flickering no longer. Being in between patients she decided to do something about the light herself. Fetching a step ladder from the cleaner's cupboard she asked Jas to hold the ladder while she climbed up and removed the starter.

'What ARE you doing? How irresponsible. Get down at once!'

Steph knew that voice, and inwardly groaned. Ruth. Trust her to turn up now. Steph climbed down the ladder, ready to bear the wrath of the superintendent.

'How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you report it to maintenance? If you fall down and break a leg don't expect sympathy from me.'

Steph folded up the ladder and asked Jas if she could return it to the cupboard. Then she turned to face her manager. 'It has been reported three times, the first yesterday and twice today. Patients have been complaining about the light flickering.'

'Why didn't you think of turning that light off? That would have been the most sensible thing to do. You really should have more common sense.' With that, Ruth marched over to the switch and plunged them all into darkness, the only light coming through the obscure glass in the door from the corridor. Steph managed to keep her temper, and said, teeth gritted, 'All the lights are run from one switch.'

Even Ruth could work out that one. Nonplussed for a few seconds she attempted to save face by attacking Steph about climbing the ladder again. Luckily for Steph another patient appeared and Ruth sped off to try to catch out someone else.

The staff canteen was buzzing as usual. The clattering of plates and cutlery was almost drowned out by the chatter of staff. The queue for food was longer than normal. Joining the queue Steph picked up a brown tray and craned her neck to see what delights were on offer. The usual cholesterol packed fare was on offer: sausages, bacon, fried eggs and hash browns. The all-day breakfasts were popular and Steph was glad that she wasn't keen on greasy breakfasts. Spying grilled fish, she asked Muriel for fish and peas.

'That'll help you keep your figure!' the catering assistant said, passing the plate over to Steph.

'I wish I had a good figure,' Steph lamented.

Muriel laughed, 'But you're a slim thing compared to me!'

Steph smiled and then asked for low fat yoghurt and a large coffee. Certainly Muriel was overweight; no doubt a result of working in the kitchen, so compared to her Steph did appear thinner. Maybe that was the answer to boost her low confidence in her appearance - always stand next to bigger people. Whenever she went out with Katrina, Steph felt bigger and Katrina looked even slimmer and more glamorous.

The staff she sat with were mainly administrators, and one of them was in human resources. Sitting on one of the blue plastic chairs Steph transferred the items from her tray onto the small space left on the table. A couple of people nodded to her but all were engrossed in the conversation.

One of the people in human resources, Sadie, was talking and the other five people were listening avidly. Steph started listening half way through a sentence.

'...so she's going to be hauled up to a grievance committee in a couple of weeks,' said Sadie.

Steph's interest wasn't serious as the group of hospitals had a huge number of staff so Steph thought she was unlikely to know the person. She was also a little uncomfortable about Sadie revealing confidential information, and thought that if someone reported her she'd be out on her ear. But Steph was keen to find out who was in trouble.

'Do we know who reported her?' asked one of the nurses.

'I don't know. But it would have to be a radiographer,' Sadie replied. 'It's being dealt with by the HR director, and she's keeping it all quiet.'

Steph's ears tuned in just as everyone turned to her.

'Steph, have you any idea who has complained about the superintendent, Ruth Pickering?'

All eyes on her and nearly choking on a mouthful of fish, Steph grabbed for her coffee and took a slug. Had Lindy finally put her complaint forward or was it one of many other members of staff who had complained?

Knowing an answer was expected she asked Sadie, 'What's the complaint about?'

'She's been recorded bullying and threatening someone in her office.'

Not wanting her name bandied around the hospital she decided to deny all knowledge, but try to gather more information. 'I don't know, but it doesn't surprise me. She's a known bully and her staff are too frightened to report her. Does she know there's a complaint?'

'Oh yes, she does but not who has complained or what the complaint is about, although if there's a proper hearing she'll probably have to listen to the recording, so the name of the person will come out then,' said Sadie, feeling very important with her knowledge.

'Have you heard the recording?' asked someone.

'No, the HR director is keeping it all quiet.'

Several people looked at their watches and regretfully picked up their trays and put them into the dirty tray holder before returning to work.

Sadie remained and spent a couple of minutes trying to prise information from Steph. She seemed to think Steph should know who had recorded Ruth. Steph was keeping quiet. Sadie was a known gossip, exactly the wrong person in human resources. If she even gave a hint that it might be her, the news would spread around the group of hospitals like Noro virus and Ruth would make Steph's life a misery. She was annoyed with both Sadie for being indiscreet and Lindy for not warning Steph that she'd taken her complaint forward.

Having a couple of minutes left Steph turned on her phone. Almost immediately it rang and from a number she didn't know.

'Steph? Oh Steph, I've been phoning you for half an hour but your phone was off. I've made a hideous mistake,' Steph's stomach was fluttering with worry. Her sister had been married to Joshua for only six weeks. Whilst Steph had expected this she'd given it another couple of months before the marriage broke down. Her sister was snuffling down the phone.

'What's happened?'

'We've had a row, so I've left. I should never have married him. He's mean. I'm coming home. Can I stay with you?'

'Katrina, what's happened?'

'Oh Steph, Joshua was so horrible. I saw a beautiful pair of shoes. They're absolutely divine and I just had to have them.'

'So, what's the problem? Why doesn't he like them?'

'He said I shouldn't have bought them.'

Steph was annoyed on her sister's behalf. What right did a husband have to dictate what a wife spends her own money on? She said this to Katrina.

'Well, that was the thing, Sis, it wasn't my money. He'd just given me a debit card for our new joint account.'

Light started to dawn on Steph. 'And how much did you spend?'

'The shoes were £499 and the matching handbag was £280. They were a bargain in a sale,' Katrina snivelled.

'So, you spent nearly £800 of his money? Without consulting him,' she quizzed. 'Or had you deposited some of your own money into the joint bank account?'

Katrina, who was still snuffling, sounded defensive, 'I didn't have any to deposit. Why did he give me a bank card if he didn't want me to use it,' she whined.

'Sweetheart, I love you very much, but I do feel you've been spoiled, both by our parents and by me.' She could hear her sister's sharp intake of breath. 'No don't interrupt. Hear me out. Now that you are married you are in a partnership. Many decisions you need to make together. How would you feel if Joshua had spent nearly £800 of your money on clothes?'

Katrina was crying again. Steph suddenly had a horrid thought, 'Katrina, he didn't hit you, did he?'

'NO! NO! no he didn't. He just said I should have talked to him first, and that he thought I had paid too much,' she wailed.

'Well I agree with him, you silly goose. Where are you?'

'I'm at the railway station. I decided to phone you before I booked my ticket.'

'Katrina, I think you should phone your husband, tell him you're sorry and you will put the money into the account when you can,' Steph advised her.

'I never want to see him again!'

'Are you going to throw away your marriage over such a trivial matter?'

'It's not trivial. It means a lot to me. He met me when I was wearing a gorgeous pair of Manolo Blahniks. He likes to see me in beautiful clothes.'

'Yes, but I still agree with him that if you are spending a large amount of, what is, in effect, his money, you should have discussed it with him. Maybe see if he can give you an allowance. Give him a ring and apologise.'

'Do I have to?' Katrina pleaded. 'I want to go home.'

'Someone has tried to contact me several times while we have been talking. It might be Mum or Dad. It might be important so I'll answer it and get back to you.'

Before Katrina could protest Steph terminated the call.

Almost immediately her mobile rang again. The phone number was unknown. Steph took the call and found her new brother-in-law on the line.

He asked if she'd heard from Katrina. He sounded very worried. They discussed the situation and Steph told him that she agreed with him and that Katrina shouldn't have spent the money.

'She's at the railway station. I told her to phone you and apologise but I think she's too proud to do so. I love my sister but have told her she's been spoiled all her life. You will have to take her in hand.'

'Steph, thanks. I admit I was annoyed, but I would never harm her. I'll go straight over there and bring her back,' he said.

'Good luck, and I hope to meet you again soon,' Steph said. Turning off the phone and shoving it into her pocket she ran all the way back to her department, knowing she was late and hoping Ruth didn't find out.

Chapter 32 – Check, check, and check again

It was a cold, wet, windy day. Steph had parked her car about a ten-minute walk from the hospital, and trudged up the hill to the hospital. Despite holding an umbrella, which kept blowing inside out, she was drenched.

While waiting on the pavement to cross the road, a car, driven too fast in her opinion, splashed a huge flume of water from the gutter. Her legs from the knees down were soaked in dirty water, and some had leaked into her right shoe. Her toes felt as if she were paddling in a viscous liquid, like oil. By the time she reached the side door of the hospital, she felt cold and water was sneaking in between her neck and fleece and running down her back. Not a good way to start her shift. Worse was to come. She'd been paired with Gary. Gary was a newly qualified radiographer. He'd only been here about a week. Steph hadn't worked with him before but had heard of colleagues who had had the misfortune to have to supervise him. To all accounts the lad was friendly but a liability.

Thank goodness she was early. Before she went up to X-ray she popped into the loo and dried her feet then neck with the hard paper towels. Their absorption was poor but better than nothing. Next stop coffee. Having a few minutes to relax and sip her latte was to help improve her mood.

She hadn't heard from Katrina since the phone call from the station a few days ago so sent a short text: How r u? R u sorted? Let me know asap love xxxx.

Within a couple of minutes she was pleased to see the reply: Im gr8, Joshua gr8. Happy luv u sis xxxx

Thank goodness. So, she's OK, at least until the next trauma in a week or so.

Not knowing who she was relieving, but sure whoever it was would welcome a coffee, she returned to the coffee machine and bought two normal white coffees. She'd love another latte but she'd never lose weight if she kept drinking them. A drink in each hand she made her way to the department.

Jayne was talking to a young man wearing what looked like brand-new scrubs. So that must be the already infamous Gary. Handing Jayne the coffee, which was accepted with enthusiasm, Steph nodded at Gary, then indicated to Jayne that she wanted a word with her.

In the X-ray room, with the door shut Steph asked her, 'Hi, how's things? Busy night?'

'It was. If I didn't know better, I would think that Ruth had kept back loads of broken bodies so I would be kept on my toes. I'm bushed. Thanks for the coffee.'

'No problem. It might revive you a bit to help you make your way home. I saw you talking to Gary. I presume that is Gary? Have you worked with him before?' Steph asked.

Jayne pulled a face. 'Yes, that's Gary. And yes, I worked with him on his first day. I know it was his first day but anyone would think he was a student. He needs to concentrate. I think you'll need to watch him closely.'

After Jayne had gone Steph introduced herself to Gary then checked the list of GP patients due. It was a lengthy list today and she wasn't confident in her assistant. If all the stories about Gary's incompetence were true she didn't understand how he'd passed his exams. Some students were great at the theory but poor on the job. Also, some were great on the job and poor at the theory. It was with some trepidation that she started her shift with Gary.

'Gary, can you do the ward X-rays and I'll do the GP ones. We'll share the A&E ones as they come through. The list of ward patients is here. When you are about to start each person call up to the ward for another, so that you don't keep them waiting long down here, but don't have huge gaps when you aren't doing anything. OK?'

'Uhuh,' came the short reply.

'And make sure you check their name and date of birth with them. Do you understand?' A nod of the head followed.

'And if you aren't sure about anything, however trivial, you come straight to me. OK?'

Again, a nod of the head. Steph hoped he really wasn't as bad as her colleagues said.

Steph and Gary worked their way through the long list of patients. A couple of times she heard him checking details with patients, and twice he forgot to ask the date of birth, or ask a female if she might possibly be pregnant. He knew that no woman should be X-rayed if she might be pregnant, until someone higher up gave permission because it was deemed essential that she's to be X-rayed.

'Gary, I can't stand over you every time you do an image, as I've my own to do. You absolutely must check name, date of birth and, in the case of a female of possible child bearing age, ask if she could be pregnant. If I'm not convinced you can do so, I shall have to remove you and report you to Ruth, the superintendent. Do you understand?'

Gary's response was a slight nod of the head. Sighing, Steph called the next patient.

After a short break Gary went up to the canteen, bringing back a coffee for Steph, leaving it in the staff room for her, which surprised her.

'I'm sorry Steph, I really will try harder,' Gary said.

'OK. Just remember how important it is,' she replied.

'We're ready for James Martin in X-ray,' Gary told the nurse on the phone, then called the next patient. A few minutes later, showing the patient out, he saw a man in a wheelchair.

'James Martin?' asked Gary. Just as the man got out of the wheelchair the phone rang. Steph was in the other room, cleaning some equipment so Gary answered the phone.

'Who's that?' a female voice barked at him.

'Um, it's Gary Finch.'

'Where's Steph Kerris?' the woman demanded.

'Um, she's doing an X-ray,' Gary managed to respond. He was fairly sure this was the manager, Ruth Pickering. He'd heard she was called The Rottweiler and was a bully, particularly to students and newly qualified staff.

'Tell her I want to talk to her about the holiday roster,' she bawled at him.

After replacing the receiver Gary showed James Martin into the X-ray room.

'Right, I'm going to take an X-ray of your chest. Put your chin here and your arms behind your back like this-

The middle-aged man obeyed, but when Gary had taken two images he asked, 'Why did you take chest X-rays?'

Gary, already getting used to people often not knowing why they had been referred for an X-ray, answered, 'Mr. Chattergee has requested an X-ray. He'll talk to you about the X-rays when he sees you back on the ward.'

'OK, but I don't understand why it's a chest X-ray,' the man replied.

'Mr. Chattergee will explain it,' Gary assured him.

'Who's Mr. Chattergee?' the patient asked.

'He's your specialist,' Gary said.

'I thought my specialist was Mr. Karlachi.'

'No, it's Mr. Chattergee,' Gary said, showing the man back to the wheelchair so he could be taken back to his ward. Gary wasn't surprised the chap didn't know why he was here or who his consultant was. Even people who were totally compos mentis weren't always told basic information and many others forgot it immediately.

The jacket potato and chilli were overcooked as usual. Hospital food, for patients and staff was mediocre, but making sandwiches and bringing them to work was a nuisance that Steph couldn't bother with. So, relying on hospital fayre was necessary. You get what you pay for, and if you pay very little then you can expect the food not to be particularly tasty, Steph thought. Worrying that Gary might be making mistakes, she ate quickly and returned to the department.

While she was on her break Gary was feeling quite important being the only radiographer on duty. A male patient had been referred by his doctor for an X-ray of his knee. Gary showed Mark Stallings into the changing room. He asked the patient to remove his trousers and put on the gown and go through to the X-ray room. Gary was just about to take an image then remembered to ask the patient for his date of birth. Everything was fine so he took the two images and the man left the department.

On returning to the department Steph asked Gary how things had gone while she was away. He assured her that he'd checked dates of birth, and asked female patients if they might be pregnant. Steph checked the records and felt that Gary might be improving. While Gary was on his break Steph dealt with another couple of patients and was looking forward to the end of her shift. The trouble struck again. The phone rang. Oh no, it was Ruth.

'Steph, is that new man, Gary, there?' Ruth bellowed down the phone. Steph informed her that Gary was on his break.

'Were you supervising him?'

'He's a qualified Band 5, he doesn't require supervising.' While Steph said this to Ruth she was wondering what trouble Gary could have got to in the short time she was out of the department.

'I want you and him up here the moment he returns from break,' Ruth bellowed again. Before Steph could ask what it was about Ruth had ended the call. Damn, what now? Steph wondered. And if they both went up there wouldn't be cover if any patients came. Gary appeared a couple of minutes later, looking cheerful. Ruth's going to wipe that grin off his face, she thought.

'Gary, Ruth, the superintendent, demands we go up to her office immediately. We seem to be in trouble but I don't know what it's about. Do you?'

Looking nonplussed Gary wrinkled his brow. 'No, I've no idea.'

'Have you been checking dates of birth, and asking if women may be pregnant?'

Gary looked irritated, 'Yes, I've done that but since you went to break I've had only three men.'

'OK,' said Steph, let's go up together and hope it's not serious.'

Walking swiftly along the corridor and into the lift, she wondered what this was about. Ruth relished upsetting people. She had an irritating habit of saying, 'Excellent, excellent,' when she was praising. This was very, very rare, but had been known, but only when she was touring the department with her own line manager. The theory was that she was trying to show her manager what a friendly and supportive manager she was. In general, her main aim was to belittle the radiographers.

Now, Steph was trying to work out what had happened. Also, if it related to Gary, she'd only been on this shift with him, and apart from her having to tell him off for forgetting to check he had the right patient, she couldn't think of anything that had gone wrong and reached Ruth's ears. Maybe he had got his left and right mixed up, like Sarah.

She stowed her handbag and mobile phone in her locker, dreading the meeting with Ruth. Rarely was it about something other than trouble. They'd already discussed the holiday rota, so it wasn't that.

Each step she made up the stairs felt like she was nearing a real rollicking, although for the life of her Steph couldn't think what she or Gary had done wrong.

'Enter,' shouted Ruth. The two radiographers went in with some trepidation.

'About time, what took you?' demanded Ruth.

Steph knew a rhetorical question when she heard one, so stayed quiet. They hadn't been invited to sit down and knew it was a bad idea to sit when not invited to do so.

'It has been reported to me that two major mess ups were made in the last hour.

'What happened?' asked Steph. She racked her brains for something that had gone wrong.

'That's what you are supposed to tell me,' said Ruth.

'I really don't know what you mean,' replied Steph. She turned to Gary and raised her eyebrows to indicate she wanted him to speak. He didn't. He was baffled.

'A patient called James Martin was X-rayed. Who did the X-ray?'

'I didn't so it must have been Gary,' Steph said, again turning to Gary. Again, he was mute.

'As I suspected. Did you supervise him?'

'No, we were very busy then and we were using two X-ray rooms. Gary would have done his own X-rays. 'What happened?' Steph asked again.

'What happened? What happened is Gary Finch making a complete ass of the radiography department. He rang up to the ward and asked for a patient called James Martin. So, James Martin was collected by a porter and Gary took chest X-rays.' Ruth said. So far, she'd completely ignored Gary.

'OK, so what went wrong?' Steph felt like she was pulling teeth, really slowly.

Finally, the superintendent turned to look at Gary but was speaking to Steph about him, not to him. 'Gary X-rayed the wrong man. James Martin had a chest X-ray. James Martin had been admitted for an operation to replace a knee cap. He must have been baffled having a chest X-ray for a knee problem. Whereas Martin James has pneumonia and urgently needed a chest X-ray. I'm holding you responsible as you were in charge.'

Steph thought, here we go again. I bet Gary didn't check his date of birth.

'So how could that happen when they have different dates of birth?' the manager challenged.

Great minds, thought Steph, shifting her weight. She wished she could sit down.

'Gary, what can you say in your defence?' said Ruth.

She sounds like we're in a disciplinary hearing, Steph thought. Talk about over the top.

Gary still looked confused, and even frightened. 'I don't know. I mean I didn't know that the names were the wrong way around.'

Before Ruth could continue shouting Steph quickly said, 'Surely the ward staff should know who's to be X-rayed and when? They have a responsibility to send down the right patient. And wouldn't the patient have queried having a chest X-ray instead of one of his knee?'

Gary flinched, remembering how he'd been a little condescending to the patient when he asked why he was having a chest X-ray.

'That's totally irrelevant,' Ruth said. 'I expect professionalism and you, Gary Finch, have not shown that. But that's not all. What happened about Mark Stallings?'

Gary looked at Steph for support. She couldn't give it as she'd no idea who Mark Stallings was.

'Gary, give me an answer,' bellowed Ruth.

Gary shifted from one foot to the other, baffled. 'He had an X-ray of his right ankle. Nothing went wrong.'

'You didn't read the referral form properly did you?' demanded Ruth.

Gary couldn't be more confused. He'd checked the date of birth. He was absolutely positive as the day and month were the same as his. And as it was a man he didn't have to ask about pregnancy. Had he X-rayed the wrong ankle? He decided to keep quiet.

'Did you read the referral form properly?' Ruth again asked. Gary still felt silence was the best option.

The superintendent was still staring at him. 'You didn't. I know you didn't. Do you know WHY I know you didn't?' she asked.

'No,' was all Gary said.

'Because Mark Stallings isn't a man.'

Both Steph and Gary looked at her, confusion on both their faces. Ruth looked jubilant. She knew something they didn't. Steph thought, what does she mean? Gary was wondering the same.

'Well, I'll tell you. Here is the referral form,' she waved it around in front of them. 'If you had read it you would see that Mark Stallings is a female.'

Gary then opened his mouth, when, thought Steph, he should have kept quiet. 'I saw it had 'Female' circled, but thought someone had made a mistake.'

'Did you not think that if there was a mistake you should have questioned it? I did. Mark Stallings' doctor told me that Mark is really Yvonne, and is waiting for a gender reassignment operation. She feels she's really a man and can only have an operation to change sex if she wears men's clothes for a while.'

The two radiographers were dumbstruck. Steph admitted to herself that if she was confronted with someone wearing men's clothes, and called Mark, she too may have thought the 'Female' on the form was incorrect.

'So, you didn't ask Mark if she might possibly be pregnant?' Ruth asked Gary.

'No.'

'Well, you're lucky. She isn't, but she might have been. Your two errors today are too much. I blame you Steph. You should be supervising new staff. In future I shall expect you to provide the necessary support to new staff and students, and to ensure they know what they're supposed to be doing.'

'I would have been supervising him if you hadn't called me up to talk about the holiday roster,' Steph defended herself. The superintendent was not pleased at being spoken to.

'You should have told Gary to wait.' With that the meeting was at an end.

Back in the department Steph felt angry. How many times had she told him to check a patient's details? She could understand the confusion. Gary had seen the name Martin James and maybe thought his names had been swopped over. The surname first. Or, he might have asked the ward for the right patient and they sent the wrong man down. What were the odds of two men with similar names being on the same ward?

And the confusion over this Mark woman was also understandable. Ruth was just trying to cause trouble and blacken Steph's name. Why did the experienced radiographers have to 100% supervise newly qualified radiographers? Ruth had appointed him. She should have been more careful with references then they wouldn't have someone who's unreliable.

Steph had heard from colleagues about transsexuals wearing clothes of the gender they want to be but she'd not X-rayed one herself. It must cause problems with which toilet to go to, but for radiographers who are expecting a female, but see a woman with an Adam's apple, five o'clock shadow, size 11 feet crammed into high heels, and a dress, it can be quite disconcerting, and then, do you call them Mr or Miss?

After being dismissed they left the superintendent's office, like two naughty school children. In the lift Steph commiserated with Gary. He agreed he was at fault and said he'd really try hard from now on to get it right. Steph hoped so for his sake. She had a feeling that Gary might become Ruth's new scapegoat. If so, his life would, from now on, become very difficult indeed.

Chapter 33 – The recording

The evening sun was close to setting. Light dappled through the trees. The evening was cool. After a hectic day cleaning, shopping and ironing Steph had her feet up and was sipping Rioja, Marmaduke on her lap as usual. She'd had two days off but was back on shift tomorrow. It's a funny world, she thought. All that fuss Ruth made over Gary and the mix up of X-rays, then it had been discovered that it wasn't all his fault after all. The investigation absolved him of some of the blame. He'd phoned the ward and it was they who had sent the wrong patient. Admittedly Gary should still have checked the patient's date of birth, but at least hadn't asked for the wrong man. And Steph still felt that he wasn't totally at fault over the transsexual.

Yesterday, Gary had confided in her that he didn't think he would remain as a radiographer. He was never truly comfortable with patients. Steph asked him what he'd do instead for a career. He thought he'd look at working for one of the big medical equipment companies. Siemens or similar. Steph thought he might do better there, although he'd still need an attention to detail.

The cat rolled over, looked at her and yowled. 'You big silly,' she said fondly, 'what do you contribute to the household?' He yowled again. 'All you do is leave fur on everything, especially my black skirt. You're a great silly boy but we love you.' The cat made a sort of chirrup sound. He enjoyed his people and the family could have some quite long conversations with him. He was an entertainer. That was another thing about Cecily, she hated all animals so the girls hadn't been allowed any, not even a hamster. Robert liked animals and had been allowed cats, a dog and guinea pigs when he was young. Stuart had an even more amazing childhood. Living on boats in Thailand, a kibbutz in Israel and on an animal reserve in Kenya, he'd communed with a wide range of animals including elephants, lions, feral cats and even spiders.

Steph had to admit that her mother had treated both girls equally; equally badly. Their father had been both mother and father to them. The best and happiest times of their childhood had been when they were out of the house and with only their father.

Jake and Gemma had received the same indifference from their grandmother. If their grandfather did divorce their grandmother, and had his own apartment, the children would be able to spend more time with him. In fact, so would she and Katrina. Because the atmosphere was so oppressive in the old family home, but only when their mother was present, Steph and Katrina rarely went there. Their father was a totally different person when his wife was absent than when she was present.

That night, just before she dropped off to sleep, Steph looked forward to having her family together at Christmas. Stuart, the children, Robert, and Katrina and Joshua. That was, of course, if Katrina was still with Joshua. Steph realised there was someone missing from her Christmas Day festivities plans; her mother. Well, she could stay away. Steph wasn't going to allow her to spoil another Christmas with her criticisms and barbed comments. If the children wanted to see her then they could, but no longer was Cecily welcome in Steph's home.

Frankly, Steph always dreaded having Cecily over on Christmas Day as she wasn't happy whatever happened. 'The turkey was too dry, the turkey wasn't cooked properly, the turkey should be free range, oh it is? well it doesn't taste like it, you've been conned. You should put bicarbonate of soda in the water with the sprouts. You should put a cross in the sprouts to make them cook more quickly. The children are too noisy, presents shouldn't be opened until after Christmas dinner, you spoil those children, they won't appreciate it, I never had all the things they have. Why have you given me toiletries? are you saying I smell? You shouldn't waste your money on all these decorations. You must have too much money. Robert! you drink too much. One is enough.' And so it went on.

Last Christmas Steph and Stuart had invited her parents over for Christmas Day dinner as was usual if she wasn't working. Robert and Cecily arrived in silence as usual. Cecily normally managed to wait a couple of minutes before she started carping, much of it aimed at her husband. To keep the peace, he had always bit his tongue and toed the line. Last year was an exception. From the start her father seemed to have decided to enjoy himself for once. He had more than the one drink she normally allowed him and ignored her when she told him not to drink the second. He got on the floor and played with the children, ignoring Cecily's complaints that he was being covered in Marmaduke's fur ('that wretched flea bag').

He contradicted his wife when she criticised the meal and had his third drink during the Christmas pudding. He then had a brandy with Stuart after the meal and they sat in the living room chatting. By then Cecily was almost speechless, but Steph couldn't work out if it was with anger or shock that her worm of a husband had turned. Only an hour after the end of the meal Cecily demanded that Robert take her back home, immediately. For the first time Robert didn't stand up immediately, make his farewells and do as his wife bid. He gave her the car keys and told her he'd walk home later on. Steph managed not to laugh at her mother's confounded expression. This time she really couldn't speak. Her mouth was opening and closing like a stranded fish. Then she said, 'Huh! You and I will have a chat when you do return.' Then she left, without saying goodbye to anyone.

Immediately the atmosphere lightened and they all had fun, watching family films on TV, playing board games, eating cold turkey sandwiches for tea and Robert laughing more in one day than she could ever remember in a month. Then when it was time for the tired children to go to bed he bathed them, read them stories in bed and kissed them goodnight. He then said he was going to walk home, with his mood visibly drooping at the prospect. He seemed to deflate. Steph asked if he'd stay the night, if he didn't mind sleeping on the spare bed in the study, and the transformation was immediate again. He leapt at her suggestion and they talked until after midnight when finally they went to bed happier than all previous Christmases.

The next morning Cecily rang to demand why Robert hadn't returned home. Had he been too drunk? He was to come home NOW. Steph had already invited him to stay the day and he told Cecily he'd go home when he wanted to, not when she wanted him to do so. Again, she was speechless. All four had a great day. They went up into the hills and flew the children's kites and watched more family films. Her father stayed that night, and the next. Cecily turned up on the 28th and demanded he went home with her. He told her that he'd go home as he couldn't keep borrowing Stuart's clothes. Steph could imagine what the journey back had been like; her mother carping and nagging. An hour later her dad was on the doorstep, accompanied by a small suitcase with, he said, enough clothes for a week, if they'd have him. He'd left the car for Cecily to use and had taken a taxi. Steph returned to work the next day and when she returned home heard laughter as she opened the door. That was the best Christmas she could remember. Shortly after that her father would stay for the odd couple of nights every month or so.

That was the epiphany for her father, the catalyst that must have made him realise he didn't have to put up with being treated like dirt. He realised that he wasn't stupid or useless. He regained his self-esteem. Then months later he announced he was leaving his wife. Why had it taken him so long she wondered. Habit, she supposed. Anyway, this Christmas would be the best yet because her mother wasn't going to be there for any part of it. And if Katrina and Joshua came too it would be fantastic.

Then Steph remembered the issue about Stuart's father. It would be a shame if Stuart hadn't reconciled with his mother, although they rarely saw her at Christmas. That was all that needed to be resolved for Christmas to be perfect. A few minutes later she'd booted up the laptop and started composing an email to Skye, asking her to tell Stuart the information he so desperately wanted. The phone rang and Steph had to turf a protesting Marmaduke off her lap to reach the handset. It was Lindy.

'Steph, have you heard the news?'

'What news?'

'About Ruth. She's to appear before a disciplinary board in a couple of weeks.'

'Gosh, really? I thought it wouldn't happen.'

'Yes, I'm sorry but I was ill, so that slowed it all down but I presented your recording to management. They were interested, very interested, and said that they had already gathered some evidence about her bullying, plus it seems she's botched up the radiographer rotas yesterday. She had allocated twice as many qualified staff working nine to five than were needed plus four students. So today there aren't enough radiographers to cover. I'm surprised she didn't phone you to come in.'

'She might have done but I was out part of the day and I forgot to charge my mobile so it's dead. So she's in trouble?'

'Too right. I understand there's quite a dossier on her although most isn't substantiated. But your tape is real evidence. I'll keep you informed.'

'Will she hear the tape do you think?' Steph asked, worried that Ruth would cause her real problems.

'I don't know. So far she doesn't know the names of any of the people who have complained.'

As soon as they finished their phone call Steph tried to get hold of Mel, but it went to voicemail. Steph left a message and asked her to let her know if she'd heard the news about Ruth. Two hours later Mel returned the call and said she'd been called in to work and the whole hospital was buzzing with the news. As yet, no-one knew who had secretly taped the conversation with Ruth. Steph hoped no-one would ever know or all future managers would worry that she might be recording their conversations too.

Chapter 34 – Revelations

Rain splattered against the kitchen window, and the grey sky mirrored Steph's mood. The children were due from school in an hour. Stuart was collecting them from school and going to take them to McDonalds on the way home.

Steph read the letter again. The stamp was French, confirming Skye was in Paris, or at least France. The last conversation that she and Skye had was clear in her mind. That same night Stuart had given his mother the ultimatum that if she didn't tell him who his father was he'd cut her out of his life. Several emails had been sent by Skye to Stuart but he'd steadfastly refused to break his vow. That night the barriers between Steph and her mother-in-law had been razed to the ground. Her husband had told Steph that his mother was emailing, and that he was ignoring her. Knowing how this must be hurting Skye, Steph wished she could reunite mother and son. Discussions with Stuart about this were curtailed when he said he didn't want to talk about it. Finally, without her husband's knowledge Steph had emailed her mother-in-law and told her that Stuart was immoveable, being determined to cut her out of his life. Skye hadn't replied by email, and Steph had been concerned by her state of mind. Then this morning the letter had arrived, giving Steph more cause for concern. Whether she carried out her mother-in-law's request or not, she'd cause heartache.

Sitting on the settee, laptop on lap, Robert couldn't believe what he'd read, despite reading it over half a dozen times. How had she found him? It seemed she'd found him via Facebook. Could he believe it? Should he ask for proof? He must demand proof. If it was true how would his daughters cope with this bombshell? Would they hate him? And Cecily? Although did he care what she thought? After printing the email, he turned off his computer and carried on sitting there, head in hands.

Steph had her head in her hands too. What should she do? Carry out her mother-in-law's wishes and have the responsibility of holding in her hands the future of so many people? Lives could be shattered if she carried out the request. But if she didn't, Stuart and Skye would be separated. But even if she did tell him he might be so upset he still may not have contact with his mother in the future. She had until the children went to bed to make up her mind. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn't. If she withheld the information and Stuart found out some time in the future, he'd be devastated, and she'd lose his trust. So, she had to do it.

Robert knew coffee wouldn't solve his problem, but at least while he was going through the motions of boiling the water and pouring it into the mug and adding milk, he was concentrating, albeit for only a short time, on something other than the devastating news he'd just received. After that short respite his mind dwelled on it again. Robert started casting his mind back twenty-three years. Miriam. He could barely remember her. There had been so many, he was now ashamed to confess to himself. Would his daughters forgive him? Why hadn't he known years ago? Miriam should have been able to find him. He was living in the same town and had only retired from that insurance company seven years ago. She could easily have tracked him down.

The sound of the key being turned in the front door, swiftly followed by shrieking children and school bags thumping onto the floor in the hall heralded the arrival of her family.

'Hello sweetheart, how did it go today?' Stuart asked, coming in and giving her a hug and kiss. 'Anything interesting happen?'

This question, asked daily, was innocent. However Steph felt that today, of all days, that Stuart must sense her rectitude. That he could sense she was nervous. She was being silly, but they were so close how could he not feel that she was hiding something from him?

Robert needed someone in whom he could confide. Tom and Barry would be at the pub tonight, being quiz night. But unless they reached the pub early, he didn't have time to confide in them before the quiz started. What would they think of him? He shook his head, as if to clear it. What did it matter what people outside his family thought of him? It didn't. All that mattered were his girls. So, who should he tell? Steph was the obvious person. Not Katrina. She was a drama queen. Although if he was going to accept Charlotte into his life, he had to break it to both Steph and Katrina. Steph first. He realised he'd been sitting a while with the mug of coffee in his hand. It was tepid. He could do with the proverbial stiff gin. Should he contact Charlotte first or tell Steph first?

When the evening meal was over and the children playing in the living room, Steph felt she couldn't wait any longer. It would be best to wait until the children were asleep, but several times during the meal Stuart had asked if she was all right. He was concerned which made her feel guilty because when she did tell him he'd be unhappy that she already knew.

Robert decided to throw himself on Steph's mercy, and hoped she'd forgive him. The girls, as he still thought of them, plus his grandchildren, meant the world to him and if he was shunned he'd break his heart. He decided to wait until the children were bound to be in bed, then phone and ask if he could go over.

'Stuart, I need to talk with you,' Steph said to her husband who was watching a DVD about some tribe in the Andes or somewhere. He turned to face her, noting the seriousness in her voice. He muted the sound, and then waited for her to continue.

Steph didn't know where to start. She dithered for several seconds which seemed like minutes. Stuart's eyebrows raised in query.

'I don't know where to start,' she said. The expression on Stuart's face was suddenly one of, she thought, horror.

'You're not pregnant, are you?' he asked, trying, too late, not to sound as if it was the last thing in the world he wanted.

She should have been annoyed at that, but was too concerned about his eventual state of mind when she told him the news. 'No, it's not that,' again she paused and saw her husband looking even more upset.

'Are you ill? Is it serious?'

'No darling it's not about me, it's about you, and Skye.'

'I'm not backing down. Until she tells me who my father is I'm having nothing to do with her.' He furrowed his brow, now thinking about Steph's words. 'What is it? She's not turning up again is she?'

'No, just hush a minute; I have some news for you.' She looked at him and bit her lip. Something she did when she was worried. Stuart saw this and wondered why she couldn't just get to the point.

'Skye told me who your father is.'

Predictably Stuart said, 'You, why did she tell you, not me?'

'Hush a minute. She told me because she wants me to tell you who it is. It's Howard H Laskington.'

Her husband was speechless for about thirty seconds, his jaw open. She continued to stare at him, awaiting a response.

Finally, he gathered his wits and said, 'You're sure?'

'I'm sure that's who your mother told me it is. I'm not sure she's telling the truth, but I can't see why she'd lie.'

'But he's a world-famous evangelist.' Stuart was clearly having difficulty taking in this news. Steph empathised. She too had found it difficult. She had the advantage of having had time to absorb the information.

Stuart looked at his wife. 'How long have you known?'

This was the question she'd been dreading. She could pretend the info was in the letter, but he'd ask to see it and even if she said she'd destroyed it she'd be telling lies. They had both promised to tell the truth to each other. She'd never broken that promise and wasn't going to do so today.

'Your mum told me the last night she was here. It was the night you and she had the row.'

'You've known all this time and didn't tell me?' The hurt in his eyes made her feel guilty.

'Darling, I'm sorry but it's only today that she gave me permission to tell you.'

'So, you've more allegiance to your mother-in-law than your own husband? That's worrying. Why did she tell you and not me? When were you going to tell me? If you were only going to give me the information I've been seeking all my life, when my mother gave permission, I could have gone to my death not knowing!'

Finally, his anger spent, he stopped. Steph felt awful. She wished she hadn't made the promise to Skye. Stuart was quite right to feel annoyed. She moved towards him and cuddled him. Initially he resisted. It was like trying to cuddle a statue, but then he relaxed and returned the affection.

'I'm so sorry Stuart. I was in a quandary. I wish she hadn't told me. She placed me in a very difficult position.'

'It's OK. I'm sorry if I had a go at you. It's such a shock. I've wanted that information for such a long time and now I don't know what to do with the knowledge. Do I contact him? If so, how? I can't mess up his marriage by contacting him at home and presumably I can't just turn up at his home, wherever it is and introduce myself. I don't know if I want to be rejected, because now I'm sure he won't want me in his life. God, what a mess!'

Steph stood up. 'How about I pour us some Chablis, while we discuss it?' Stuart nodded, and remained sitting, thoughts whirring through his head.

Deciding that they would probably want more than just a glass of wine each, Steph brought out the little used wine cooler, a quarter full of ice cubes. After filling their wine glasses, she settled the bottle into the cooler and passed a bag of salted nuts to her husband.

He opened the bag, almost without thinking, and poured some into his hand. Steph took the bag back and also had some nuts.

'OK,' said Steph, 'what do you want to do?'

Stuart shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know. I really don't know.' Before either of them could speak the landline rang. Each looked to the other, an unspoken, 'Shall we answer that or let whoever it is leave a message?'

Steph decided she'd better answer it in case it was Katrina, in trouble, or Vera causing more trouble at the home.

It was Robert. He had something urgent to tell them. No, in response to Steph's worried question, no-one had died, but he needed to speak to both of them, preferably tonight. Damn, thought Steph, just when I need to support Stuart. She covered the receiver and asked Stuart if he minded that her father wanted to come over immediately. Stuart's response was a 'no problem', although obviously it was.

While they waited for Robert they put the children to bed, tidied the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and then took a bottle of Stella out of the fridge, ready for Robert. During all these familiar family activities they discussed what to do about Skye's revelation. By the time Robert let himself in with the key he'd retained, no resolution had been found.

The strain on her father's face worried Steph. Since leaving her mother Robert had looked younger and more carefree than she'd ever seen him. He'd been laughing more and was fun to be with. Now he looked worried. What had her mother gone and done to him now?

Being so taken up with his own worries Robert didn't notice that his daughter and son-in-law weren't their normal selves.

'So, Dad, what's up? Has my loving, caring mother pulled the rug from under you again?'

Her father didn't chuckle at this. He was sitting in one of the armchairs, bottle of lager in one hand. There was silence for almost a full minute while he appeared to be trying to decide how to start. The other two waited patiently.

'I think, in fact I'm sure, that what I've to say is going to be a huge shock to you both. It certainly was to me.' Both Steph and Stuart involuntarily leaned forward on the settee.

'I've received a letter, from someone. The contents of the letter may not be true. That's something I must verify. But it's here.' He took the letter, still in its envelope, out of his pocket and handed it to Steph. She withdrew the letter and moved closer to Stuart so he could read it too.

The silence in the room, both during the letter being read, then after, while Steph and Stuart absorbed the information, was heavy. Robert wished one of them would say something.

Stuart felt he was on information overload. This was as bad as his news. The irony wasn't lost on Stuart and his wife. He'd been talking about contacting his father, and that's exactly what Robert's daughter had done to him.

Finally finding her vocal cords, Steph asked, 'Who's Miriam?'

Robert looked embarrassed. 'She was a lady on my insurance patch. I collected insurance payments at the door in those days and she was one of my clients.'

'Was it a one-off or did you and she have a long-term affair?' Steph asked. 'I mean, this woman, Charlotte, was born after Katrina and me, so you were married to my mum at the time.'

Robert was relieved that there were no accusations in his daughter's voice. A shock it may have been, but she was taking it well, so far.

'It probably went on for a few months, I'm not sure.'

Steph's brow furrowed. 'You mean you can't remember?'

'I'm ashamed to say I can't remember how long ur, um, liaison, lasted, but I'm also ashamed to say that I don't even remember her.'

Far from being shocked his daughter laughed. 'Really Dad. But that must mean there were others?'

Again, her father looked embarrassed. 'There were a couple of ladies I visited, and was friendly with. Are you shocked?' he asked her.

'Why should I be? Any man living with that cold fish who was lucky to be your wife, would have considered finding friendship elsewhere. And Dad, I've seen photos of you when you were younger and you were, and still are, a very handsome man.'

The object of her statement visibly relaxed back into his chair, smiling at his daughter and son-in-law.

'I'm relieved. I was worried you would send me away and refuse to allow me near the children.'

'Why on earth would I do that, you silly great lump! I love you, and now it seems I'm to love another sister. I do hope she isn't needy like Katrina 'though.'

Stuart spoke for the first time. He still had his own problem to deal with, and was interested in Robert's response.

'Are you going to meet her?'

Turning to him Robert replied, 'That's one of the things I was going to ask you both. Should I meet her?

'That's up to you, Dad, but I'm quite willing to meet with her.'

'Ah, that was the other thing I was going to ask. If you would consider seeing her. What about Katrina?'

'I don't think Katrina will be fussed about your little, what did you call it, liaisons? I think having a younger sister might help her grow up a bit.' Steph smiled at her father.

'You don't know what a relief this is. I had no-one else to turn to and was worried you would turf me out.'

'For goodness sake! As if I would. But Dad, I do have another question, is it possible that I might have more siblings that you don't know about?' She was laughing at him and he smiled weakly and said, 'I certainly hope not!'

Stuart and Steph looked at each other, and a silent message passed between them. Steph nodded at Stuart, who cleared his throat and said, 'I've some news too. Steph knows but I would welcome some sound advice from you.'

Six months later:

Steph decided she couldn't wait for Ruth to resign, so left and set up a company making various flavours of muffins. The most popular are the breakfast muffins with bacon and sausage. At present it is a cottage industry, with Jas and Mel – who also both left radiography \- making muffins daily in their own kitchens. Steph has recently contracted with a large national bakery to start producing the most popular muffins as several high street cafes have put in orders for regular supplies. Discussions with a major supermarket chain are in the early stages. She is now looking for premises to install industrial ovens as very soon just using the three domestic ovens is not going to provide enough capacity.

Stuart undertook counselling and felt that just knowing who his father is has given him confidence and filled a big gap. He decided not to contact his father as the ramifications of doing so would destroy both families. He contacted his mother and they had several telephone conversations during which he asked and she answered many questions. They're now reconciled.

Skye has finally settled down in a large house near her family. She sees her grandchildren several times a week and revels in spending money on designer clothes and toys for them. She knows not to buy any controversial toys as her daughter-in-law's hang-ups prohibits it.

Katrina is still married and living with Joshua. She's happy, as is he. The baby on the way is exciting them both, Steph is excited about becoming an aunt and Jake and Gemma argue about who will look after their new cousin. Jake wants a boy called Zak and Gemma wants a girl called Barbie or Princess or Skye.

Vera has recently settled into her fourth retirement home and is the bane of the carers' and residents' lives. Her dementia is worse and with it has come increased aggression. She'll be moving again in another five weeks. Steph worries that she'll run out of homes to send her to within a forty-mile radius.

Cecily is still waiting for Robert to return to her. She hasn't seen any of her family since her daughter's blessing. She doesn't know that her younger daughter is going to have a coffee-coloured baby. When she does find out she'll be worried only about what the neighbours and her few friends think. She was upset about not being invited to Steph's for Christmas and doesn't understand why her family have cut off contact with her. Her destiny should be loneliness, but shortly after her new grandson is born, Katrina and Steph will write to her and tell her she'll be welcomed back into their lives on the condition she refrains from moaning about everyone, and that she accepts her son-in-law and new grandson called Jamal. Cecily will agree but will quickly revert to type when Jamal is placed in her arms. She'll ask if his skin can be chemically lightened, so will be quickly shown the door.

Robert is enjoying the company of Pearl, Joshua's aunt. They will become engaged, marry and live happily ever after. Robert and Charlotte meet regularly, and the awkwardness of their past is finally banished.

Charlotte is thrilled to have two sisters and a niece and nephews. She fits in well with her newly-discovered family and she and her boyfriend sometimes join Steph and family on holiday. Katrina, after initially experiencing jealousy of her new half-sister, discovered the fun of the clothes-conscious half-sibling, and enjoys shopping trips with her, although Katrina is mindful of Joshua's expectations about not over-spending.

Ruth is still under investigation. It's a slow process as the NHS Trust management team is ineffectual regarding human resource issues, however she will eventually be dismissed.

Darren is working in a DIY store. His wife left him, and he's currently girlfriendless. He's met seven women on the internet but one failed to turn up and the other six didn't want another date. One left during dessert, and in the taxi whisking her home, sent a text informing him that he was a sexist, misogynist, patronising bore. Another threw his beer in his face when he told her she couldn't have political opinions as she was only a female.

Gary persevered in radiography and has turned into a good practitioner. He is unlikely to progress far, but is cheerful and competent. Ruth's vindictiveness drove him away so he moved with his girlfriend seventy miles away to work at another hospital.

Mel and husband will adopt a two-year old girl. Charlie will bring emotional baggage with her and the three of them will need to take up the professional support offered to help them all adjust.

Jas and her husband decide that one child is enough, and she is pleased that her husband stands up to his mother on the subject.

Howard H Laskington, despite being well past retirement age, still puts on evangelical 'shows' around the world, and is now a billionaire. His payments to Skye will continue until his death. He has arranged with his accountant that no-one, including his wife, will find out about the payments. He wishes his impeccable and morale reputation to remain unsullied. Since Skye's pregnancy, he has ensured no more babies will come out of his many infidelities. What he doesn't foresee is that the fall-out from the allegations in the press about celebrities' sexual advances will implicate him, and over a hundred women, all of whom were young girls at the time, will come forward.

Thank you for purchasing this book. I hope you enjoyed it. Would you please leave a review. Thank you.

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Please see other books I have published under Marie Sever, all available on Smashwords.
