Page 1 of The Christmas Competition

1

Nisa

“NO, I CAN’T GO for dinner with you, Bernard.”

“Why not?” He pursed his lips, pondering. “Is it because I don’t have a nice enough car?”

I glanced at the mobility scooter in the corner of the single hospital room. “Nah, you’ve got a sweet ride there,” I said as I positioned the blood pressure cuff on Bernard’s arm. “This will get tight now, but not for too long.”

His wispy white eyebrows tugged together as he studied my face. “Then what is it? Obviously, I respect your decision. But I’d like to know if it’s something remediable.”

I pressed the button to begin the reading. “Hmm. I wouldn’t say that it’s remediable, unfortunately.”

His face fell and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. “But through no fault of your own,” I added, shooting him a smile. “It’s because, firstly, I’m your nurse and nurse-​patient relationships are forbidden in our code of ethics. And, secondly . . . you are roughly fifty years older than me.”

His eyebrows drew together again as he considered my words—​as if he’d forgotten that he was in fact eighty-​five rather than thirty-​five. Which was a possibility as he did have a degree of cognitive impairment, bless him. “I suppose those are valid points,” he said.

I laughed, but quickly put a lid on it when I heard how it reverberated around the small room.

Just then my good friend and colleague, Rona, knocked and entered the room. “Afternoon, Nisa. Bernard—​hope you’re keeping out of trouble?”

“Of course, Doctor,” Bernard said, ever charming.

Rona smiled. “That’s me clocking off now, Nisa. Unless there’s anything else you need?”

I shook my head. “All good, thanks! Have a great evening.”

She eyed me for a moment, studying my face in the way she had been frequently doing of late. “Can I have a quick word before I go?”

“Sure,” I told her as I turned back to Bernard and removed the blood pressure cuff. “No problems here, Bernard. I’ll see you on my next round.”

He gave me a nod and a wistful smile. “Until we meet again, have a lovely day.” I had a sneaking suspicion that old Bernard had game when he was younger.

We went out into the deserted corridor. “Everything okay?” I asked Rona.

She touched my arm. “That is exactly the question I was going to ask you.”

I blinked, eyes prickling as the familiar lump rose in my throat. “I’m fine, thanks. I was just a little overemotional this morning, that’s all.”

She put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “You weren’t overemotional, Nisa. Your feelings are perfectly valid.”

“I know,” I said, sniffing and clearing my throat. I really did not want to burst into tears again today. “It’s just lonely at home, you know? Especially with Christmas coming up.”

“I know,” she said, empathy shining in her blue eyes. “I’m always here if you need me though. Call me anytime.”

I nodded as Rona dropped her arm, then I took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s all good, anyway. I’m sure Drew will be back before too long. It’s just a phase he’s going through. Next year we can start afresh and it’ll be like this separation never happened.” This was my internal mantra whenever I became overwhelmed with sadness. Surely if I believed hard enough then I could manifest it.

Rona blinked, pausing as if carefully considering her words. “Mm. And do you think . . . that’s still what you really want?”

I frowned. “Of course. More than anything.” I never wanted to separate in the first place. Rona had been privy to every devastating blow since Drew had left me earlier this year, and she’d been a supportive ear for my outpouring of grief over the loss of my relationship. Why would she think I no longer wanted him back?

Rona nodded quickly, touching my arm in a reassuring manner. “Let’s get together for coffee soon.”

I schooled my face back into a smile. “Absolutely. Or better yet, one of my signature hot chocolates. ’Tis the season, after all.”

Rona smiled widely. “Sounds awesome.” She gave me a wave and headed off along the corridor toward the front door.

I turned, about to return to the ward office, when one of my nurses came hurrying down the corridor—​practically skidding to a halt on the linoleum as he reached me.