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‘C’mon,’ I say, placing my hand on Aiden’s shoulder. ‘Let’s just play on.’
‘You can’t play on now,’ Sean snorts. ‘Healthy Boy here is cheating.’ Sean points at Aiden and pulls a face. ‘Cheater, cheater, cheater.’
‘Okay.’ Aiden’s eyes widen with frustration and he shrugs my hand off him. ‘You’re just a wanker, do you know that? If you weren’t sick I’d punch your bleedin’ lights out.’
‘Aiden,’ I squeak, horrified.
‘What?’ Aiden snaps. ‘You heard what he said.’
I shake my head.
‘Oh, is Healthy Boy sulking now cause his missus gave out to him?’ Sean says.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘That’s enough. You’re being rude. We’re leaving now. C’mon, Aiden. Let’s go. I don’t even really like pool anyway.’
‘Ah, what?’ Sean says, sounding disappointed. ‘Don’t go. I was only having a laugh.’
‘It wasn’t funny,’ I say.
Sean raises his hands above his head and frowns. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I was just messing. I didn’t mean to piss you off. You guys stay and play. My gran is coming in to visit soon anyway. I gotta go.’
I hear Aiden puff out and gather up balls, I guess he’s resetting the table to start over. But my eyes are on Sean as he walks towards the door with his shoulders flopped forward and his head down. He seems genuinely sorry that he offended us. I think his tough-guy thing is all an act. And I get it. Maybe it’s easier to pretend to be something you’re not, than face up to never being the way you were before, ever again.
‘Hey,’ I call just as he’s about to walk out the door. ‘I’ll see you later forFriends, yeah?’
He stops and twists his head over his shoulder. ‘Friends.’
I think Sean could really use a friend in this place. So could I.
TWENTY-SEVEN
HEATHER
I’m downstairs in the canteen trying to talk some sense into the manager when my phone begins to ring. I ignore it. Someone has complained about too many blueberries in their muffin, and the manager has pulled me aside for a quick word. That was over five minutes ago and I’m anxious to get back upstairs to Kayla. I left her alone on the ward over an hour ago and I told her I wouldn’t be long.
‘This is the third complaint,’ the manager says with her hands on her hips.
‘It’s the same patient complaining each time,’ I say. ‘If they don’t like blueberries they should order a plain muffin.’
‘We take complaints very seriously, Heather.’
‘And so you should,’ I say, my phone buzzing furiously in my pocket. ‘But this is just stupid.’
‘Heather!’ The manager’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘I’m disappointed to hear you say that. We pride ourselves on good customer experiences and we would never consider any of our customers stupid.’
My phone stops ringing.
‘Someone found a hair in their tomato soup, yesterday,’ I say, becoming increasingly impatient with this ridiculous conversation. ‘And I never said the customers are stupid. I said complaining about too much fruit in a fruit muffin is stupid. And it is.’
‘Just don’t be so heavy with blueberries in future, okay?’
I’m about to retort with a question about where we stand on raspberries and chocolate chips but the respite from my ringing phone is short-lived and it starts buzzing again.
‘Less blueberries moving forward. I got it,’ I say through gritted teeth, as I reach into my pocket and pull out my vibrating phone. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.’
‘Hello,’ I say, holding the phone to one ear and pressing my finger against the other, trying to block out some of the noise bellowing from the clusters of people eating and drinking all around me.
‘Heather?’ a man’s voice says.
