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“Is it my fault he didn’t call?”
“I don’t know, is it? Karen.”
Katie felt her cheeks burn. “It’s very close to my real name. And he had my number.”
“Not your whole number. You always change the last two digits.”
“What can I say? It’s easier than saying I don’t want to see you again.”
“Have you ever given your real number to a man?”
“Yes. And I ended up having to get a new number when he wouldn’t leave me alone. I prefer to keep things simple.”
Vicky leaned forward. “What you’re doing at the moment isn’t living. You’re existing.”
What she was doing was trying not to lose her grip. If she kept busy, everything would be okay. She almost told Vicky then, but part of her was afraid that if she exposed that single pulled thread in the fabric of her life, the whole of her would unravel. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need a break. I’ll be fine when I’ve had time off.”
“Will you?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed the pizza box away from her. “I feel as if I’m going crazy. Damn it, Vick—what’s happening to me?”
Vicky stood up and put her arms around her. “You need professional help. Would you talk to someone?” The kindness and compassion in her voice almost tipped Katie over the edge.
She could barely force words past the lump in her throat. “I have you.”
“But you’re not talking to me, and all I have to offer is turkey pizza—you need someone with expertise.”
“Your turkey pizza wasn’t up to much. You’re a lousy friend.”
Vicky didn’t smile. “Go to occupational health.”
“And what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’ll sign you off sick.”
“I have a holiday coming.”
“Not long enough.”
“Staff taking sick leave is one of the reasons it’s so bad at the moment. If I go off, too, that would make things a thousand times worse for my colleagues.”
“You can’t be a good doctor, feeling the way you do. How are you supposed to make good decisions?”
She hadn’t. She hadn’t made good decisions.
She stood up abruptly. “I need to get to bed.”
“So that you can get up and do the same tomorrow morning.”
“That’s right.” She finished her tea and put the mug in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the tea and the listening ear. And the pizza. It was an experience.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you feel better in the morning. Oh, and, Katie—”
Katie paused with her hand on the door. “What?”
“Just so you know—from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look as if you’re handling it.”
* * *
