The Scandalous Kolovskys: Knight on the Children's Ward

‘I’m staying here for a few weeks,’ Annika said, with just a hint of a smile. ‘To sort out a few things.’

‘It will be nice,’ Ross said, ‘when things are a bit more sorted.’

‘Very nice,’ Annika agreed, and wished him goodnight again.

‘If you change your mind …’ He snapped his mouth closed; he really mustn’t go there.

Annika was struggling. She didn’t want to get into her car. She wanted to climb into the ute with him, to forget about sorting things out for a little while. She wanted him to drive her somewhere secluded. She wanted the passion those black eyes promised, wanted out of being staid, and wanted to dive into recklessness.

‘Drive carefully.’

‘You too.’

They were talking normally—extremely politely, actually—yet their minds were wandering off to dangerous places: lovely, lovely places that there could be no coming back from.

‘Go,’ Ross said, and she felt as if he were kissing her. His eyes certainly were, and her body felt as if he were.

She was shaking as she got in the car, and the key was too slim for the slot. She had to make herself think, had to slow her mind down and turn on the lights and then the ignition.

He was beside her at the traffic lights. Ross was indicating right for the turn to the country; Annika aimed straight for the city.

It took all her strength to go straight on.

CHAPTER FOUR

ELSIE frowned from her pillow when Annika awoke her a week later at six a.m. with a smile.

‘What are you so cheerful about?’ Elsie asked dubiously. She often lived in the past, but sometimes in the morning she clicked to the present, and those were the mornings Annika loved best.

She recognised Annika—oh, not all of the time, sometimes she spat and swore at the intrusion, but some mornings she was Elsie, with beady eyes and a generous glimpse of a once sharp mind.

‘I just am.’

‘How’s the children’s ward?’ Elsie asked. Clearly even in that fog-like existence she mainly inhabited somehow she heard the words Annika said, even if she didn’t appear to at the time.

Annika was especially nice to Elsie. Well, she was nice to all the oldies, but Elsie melted her heart. The old lady had shrunk to four feet tall and there was more fat on a chip. She swore, she spat, she growled, and every now and then she smiled. Annika couldn’t help but spoil her, and sometimes it annoyed the other staff, because many showers had to be done before the day shift appeared, and there really wasn’t time to make drinks, but Elsie loved to have a cup of milky tea before she even thought about moving and Annika always made her one. The old lady sipped on it noisily as Annika sorted out her clothes for the day.

‘It’s different on the children’s ward,’ Annika said. ‘I’m not sure if I like it.’

‘Well, if it isn’t work that’s making you cheerful then I want to know what is. It has to be a man.’

‘I’m just in a good mood.’

‘It’s a man,’ Elsie said. ‘What’s his name?’

‘I’m not saying.’

‘Why not? I tell you about Bertie.’

This was certainly true!

‘Ross.’ Annika helped her onto the shower chair. ‘And that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Are you courting?’

Annika grinned at the old-fashioned word.

‘No,’ Annika said.

‘Has he asked you out?’

‘Sort of,’ Annika said as she wheeled her down to the showers. ‘Just for dinner, but I said no.’

‘So you’re just flirting, then!’ Elsie beamed. ‘Oh, you lucky, lucky girl. I loved flirting.’

‘We’re not flirting, Elsie,’ Annika said. ‘In fact we’re now ignoring each other.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Just leave it, Elsie.’

‘Flirt!’ Elsie insisted as Annika pulled her nightgown over her head. ‘Ask him out.’

‘Enough, Elsie,’ Annika attempted, but it was like pulling down a book and having the whole shelf toppling down on you. Elsie was on a roll, telling her exactly what she’d have done, how the worst thing she should do was play it cool.

On and on she went as Annika showered her, though thankfully, once Annika had popped in her teeth, Elsie’s train of thought drifted back to her beloved Bertie, to the sixty wonderful years they had shared, to shy kisses at the dance halls he had taken her to and the agony of him going to war. She talked about how you must never let the sun go down on a row, and she chatted away about Bertie, their wedding night and babies as Annika dressed her, combed her hair, and then wheeled her back to her room.

‘You must miss him,’ Annika said, arranging Elsie’s table, just as she did every morning she worked there, putting her glasses within reach, her little alarm clock, and then Elsie and Bertie’s wedding photo in pride of place.

‘Sometimes,’ Elsie said, and then her eyes were crystal-clear, ‘but only when I’m sane.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I get to relive our moments, over and over …’ Elsie smiled, and then she was gone, back to her own world, the moment of clarity over. She did not talk as Annika wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and put on her slippers.

‘Enjoy it,’ Annika said to her favourite resident.

He had his ticket booked, and four weeks’ unpaid leave reluctantly granted. They had wanted him to take paid leave but, as Ross had pointed out, that was all saved up for his trips to Russia. This hadn’t gone down too well, and Ross had sat through a thinly veiled warning from the Head of Paediatrics—there was no such thing as a part-time consultant and, while his work overseas was admirable, there were plenty of charities here in Australia he could support.

As he walked through the canteen that evening, the conversation played over in his mind. He could feel the tentacles of bureaucracy tightening around him. He wanted this day over, to be back at his farm, where there were no rules other than to make sure the animals were fed.

His intention had been to get some chocolate from the vending machine, but he saw Annika, and thought it would be far more sensible to keep on walking. Instead, he bought a questionable cup of coffee from another machine and, uninvited, went over.

‘Hi!’

He didn’t ask if he could join her; he simply sat down.

She was eating a Greek salad and had pushed all the olives to one side.