The Right Treatment (11 page)

A new face, a man with wild eyes, was standing behind Stacey, his impatience to get to the front of the queue obvious. Aoife hadn’t seen him before. Katie must have spotted his anxiety because she stopped what she was at and called him over. He was side by side with Stacey then. Katie took out a registration form and asked his name and if he had been referred and by whom.

“Give me all you have,” he snapped, cutting through her questions. Aoife spun around to see what the kerfuffle was.

“We have access to nothing, you need to see a doctor. They’ll be here in ten minutes,” Katie said calmly. But she shot Aoife a warning look, and trying to be discreet, Aoife reached across the desk and hit the panic button, alerting the local police to a situation. Immediately the man took out a hypodermic needle, claiming it to be his, and that he was HIV positive, first threatening to stab Stacey’s baby with it. Without even thinking it through, Aoife placed herself between Stacey and the man.

“The baby can’t get you anything,” Aoife reasoned. “Let them go, and I’ll see what I can find.” She signalled to him to follow her and she headed off in the direction of one of the consulting rooms, depressing the door handle. It was locked, as she knew it would be, but Stacey had managed to scarper with the baby so Aoife was happy. However, the accoster wasn’t. He was raging at the locked door. He grabbed Aoife and held the needle to her neck. She tried to coax him to try the next door, anything to keep him calm. As they walked over to it, syringe at her neck, his grip on her loosened ever so slightly and she seized her moment, elbowing him in the stomach with all her might. He dropped the syringe, but still held her fast. His anger boiled over and he punched Aoife in the face, knocking her to the floor before drawing out his foot to kick her. But fortunately for Aoife, that was just when the police arrived with batons drawn. He still kicked, but he was spinning around to face the police, and his contact with her body was thankfully minimal. She winced as his foot connected, but the fierce pain she expected didn’t come.

Aoife watched in sickening horror as the police rained down their batons hard and fast on the perpetrator, who was still kicking and fighting. She saw Katie grab the needle and discard it in the sharps bin, and Aoife started trembling and shaking, realizing how damn close she had just come to a life sentence. In all the times she’d had unprotected sex, she had never really considered the risk she had called upon herself, but now, the horror of it all sickened her. Once they had apprehended him, another two police officers arrived on the scene, asking Aoife and Katie to accompany them to the station to make a statement. Aoife was totally shaken up by her experience. The police had her examined by their doctor for forensic evidence. He gave her some Xanax, which Aoife took willingly but as soon as it hit her tongue, she got scared. What if it sent her down the slippery slope again? She hid it under her tongue and spat it into a tissue a few moments later. Terror she could deal with, self-disgust she could not. It took forever for her to be examined, pronounced well, evidence collected and statement to be taken. By then she had missed her appointment with Dr. Smith. And she needed Matt.

Chapter Nine

“Matt, it’s Paul. I was expecting Aoife but she hasn’t turned up. Any ideas?”

“Just how late is she?” Matt asked, hoping it would be minutes.

“Two hours.”

Matt scowled at the internal phone, as if blaming it for bringing the bad news. He resisted the urge to shout at his friend and colleague for taking so long to alert him. Aoife had been so positive earlier. Matt became afraid it had all been a show. What if she wasn’t ready for the real world? His first instinct was that she had done something really stupid to avoid responsibility, or returning to normality. He was fuming. Just wait ‘til he got his hands on her. She wouldn’t sit for a month. He would blister her backside and lock her up until she could behave like a rational human being.

He dialled Aoife’s mobile number and left a cutting message promising to bust her ass when she didn’t pick up. Then he rang the clinic only to find that neither Katie nor Aoife were there and that they had been involved in an incident earlier. The person covering reception either couldn’t or wouldn’t give any further information.

Matt was feeling frantic now. Had Aoife been hurt? His fault if she was. He had sent her to that place. He didn’t even know where to find her. He checked his personal phone but there were no messages. He asked his receptionist to reschedule all his appointments. His ward rounds would just have to wait.

For the first time, Matt doubted his techniques. He wondered if he had been wrong to be so exacting with Aoife. She was in trouble and the first thing she should have done was call him, but she didn’t. Had he let her down that badly? He called Fiona. She had heard from Aoife early that morning. Just some sort of vague text apologising for all her past misdemeanours and asking her if they could meet up some time soon. She had no knowledge of any incident. He hoped against hope that Aoife would have made her way back to his apartment and he headed there.

She was asleep on the sofa, white as a ghost, with a nasty black eye beginning to take shape. Matt wanted to get his hands on the bastard that had done that to her so badly, his fists ached from the tension. He got his duvet from his bed and covered her gently, taking care not to wake her. Judging by the state of her injuries, he figured no doctor would allow her to leave unmedicated, so he figured she would sleep for a while. But he hoped heat would prolong her rest, masking her discomfort and helping her to heal. Tenderly, he moved some stray hairs back off her face. Aoife stirred and moaned. Whatever pain relief she had been given, it didn’t seem to be enough. But all he could do was wait.

Half an hour was forever to him as he sat on the hard wooden floor beside the sofa. Sure, he could have sat in the armchair opposite, but he didn’t want to be that far away. He deserved his body to feel cold and numb—he had caused this. He, and his stupid boot camp. If he’d had any compassion, he would have seen how excited she had been that morning at the prospect of freedom. He would have told her to take the day off from the rehab. But no! Matt had been so annoyed that she was looking forward to leaving him that he didn’t want her to enjoy the thought of it. He’d put his ego ahead of Aoife’s excitement, and now she was paying the price. There was no point in dressing any of it up in trying to do the right thing. He had taken Aoife on to prove his stupid idea that hard discipline solved everything. He’d backed her into a corner many times, pushing her as hard as he could to prove he was right. But never once had he listened to her or comforted her. Even when Paul Smith had tried to tell him that she had a lot of history to work out, Matt had chosen to push ahead with his rigorous program, and shut out any urge to listen to her. He wasn’t going to go soft on her—not when he had a point to prove.

What if something worse had happened to her, what if she had been permanently incapacitated or worse, killed? There would have been very cold comfort in thinking he had been doing it for her own good. Not much point in her being cured from her self-destructive pattern only to be pushing up daisies as a result of his so-called therapy. Matt recalled his excitement when he had realised he’d attained the ridiculously high results in his exams to get awarded the much coveted college place in medicine in University College Galway. Back then he had been so sure he would put it to the noblest of uses. He would save the needy. He would spend some of each year in the third world, gifting his skills to the neediest of the needy. He would make a difference.

He did follow through for a time, spending every moment he could with Medicines Sans Frontiers. And he’d loved every minute of it. But more and more, he had allowed himself to get sucked into the earning culture. And when the people of the British Isles showed less gratitude than those less fortunate, Matt decided they were spoiled and pampered. The casualty department in a London hospital tended to offer the worst of the worst, drunken and drug-fuelled injuries on people who were aggressive and demanding. He stopped seeing the person beyond that drunken night. He had stopped listening. He had stopped being a good doctor. Or a good man. He was thoroughly ashamed as he came to know himself through these new eyes.

Aoife turned and whimpered. Her eyes flickered open and closed again. It was obvious she was in pain but he didn’t want to disturb her—sleep was the best medicine and he was sure she’d had some painkillers. He was surprised by her bruising that she hadn’t been admitted. Her face was already swelling; it would be a lot worse the following day. He was glad it was a couple of weeks until she returned to her normal job. After being suspended, they would surely have seen those bruises as the result of some drunken or doped-up misadventure. She turned again and this time she woke up. Her eyes were like a frightened deer when she saw him sitting on the floor, her recognition function dulled by sleep and trauma, and quite possibly medication. She screamed and her body shook with fear.

“Hey, it’s only me—Matt. Are you okay?” He touched her hand gently.

“Christ, you scared me. Yeah, I’m okay. Sore. Sorry I missed my appointment.” Her breath was still ragged. She was clearly pretty traumatized by the events of the day. Matt prayed it didn’t set her back, not now. Much as he would like her to stay with him for longer, he would hate it to be because she had a relapse. He wanted her by choice, not coercion. Even though, he had to admit, choice was unlikely.

“I think you’ll be forgiven under the circumstances. What medication have you had?”

“Paracetamol. They gave me Xanax, but I didn’t want to take it. I was afraid to.”

“It would relax you. Help you sleep better. You should have been sent to the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t go. When I said I was staying with you, they didn’t push it.”

“Nice to know I’m of some use to you,” he said wryly.

“Maybe now is a good time to say just how much use you’ve been. Thank you, Matt. I really couldn’t have done this on my own. You were exactly what I needed at that time. Even if I did fight it. Fiona too. She was right to pull the plug.”

He was speechless. She was lying there injured because of his idea of harsh therapy and yet she was thanking him. Aoife had certainly come a long way since the day he first brought her home. He rose and kissed her forehead before swooping her up and carrying her to bed.

“You’ll sleep better here,” he told her before leaving her to run to the deli for some soup and soft rolls.

He knew Aoife was actually more mentally hurt than physically. Sure, she had a black eye coming her way, but that was as a result of a blow to her nose, and looked a damn sight worse than it was likely to feel. Her nose would be tender for a couple of days, but it didn’t look broken, just a little swollen. She seemed to be getting sufficient pain relief from Panadol. It could have been so much worse. When he thought of what could have happened, he felt physically ill. He really wanted to kill the bastard who had done it, but then he remembered the real bastard was him.

When he returned, he managed to coax her to have soup and use a cold compress on her nose and eye. But she wouldn’t give in on a tranquilizer. Part of him was proud of her for that, but he wished she would take it, just so she could sleep, the best medicine of all. The soup warmed her and sated her hunger, but he knew she felt violated and vulnerable. He could tell by the way she kept trying to cover up every inch of her that was exposed, even her forearms. He filled a bath for her; the symbolic washing away of the trauma would help her brain, while the heat of the bath would work its magic on soothing her shocked body. But when he led her to the bathroom, even though he had seen her naked many times, she couldn’t bring herself to undress in front of him and he had to leave.

He made her promise to leave the door unlocked, and in return he promised he wouldn’t enter unless she called for him, as long as she was out within the half hour. Once again he sat on the hard floor and waited, constantly listening out for sounds that proved she was awake and well. She didn’t leave him too long, and within fifteen minutes she emerged wrapped in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She climbed back into bed, with her hair soaking, and discarded the towel on the floor. He grabbed her brush and hairdryer from the dressing table. With absolutely no clue what he was at from Adam, Matt McDaid sat her up on the bed and turned hairdresser as he brushed out Aoife’s beautiful blue-black locks and then switched on the hairdryer. He tossed her tresses about in his fingers, encouraging them to dry quickly while Aoife just sat back on the bed and let it happen. He then told her to lie down and tucked her in like a small child, kissing her on the forehead.

“I’m so sorry, I should have let you take the morning off. Try to get some rest and I’ll reschedule Paul. You’ll get your freedom cards, I promise.” He left her phone beside her, telling her to text or ring him in the living room if she needed anything at all and then left her to sleep.

When he started to nod off on the sofa, Matt forced himself to get up and go to bed. He checked in on Aoife for about the tenth time and she was still sleeping peacefully. He brought his phone just in case.

A loud piercing cry forced its way into his consciousness. Matt leapt out of bed and ran to Aoife’s room. She was sitting bolt upright, and although she had stopped screaming, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Nightmare?” he asked. Aoife nodded. He sat on the bed beside her as she told him how the events of the morning had unfolded. Aoife began trembling as she recalled the horrors.

“Matt, will you stay with me tonight? Please?” It wasn’t the request of a seductive temptress, but the desperate plea of a very frightened young woman, a woman he cared for deeply.

“Shove over in the bed,” he replied, climbing under the duvet. He lay down and tucked himself around her, her back to him. Aoife started talking, talking about all the things she had said to Paul. Stuff she had hidden from him for years. As Matt listened, his heart ached for the little girl who had been deprived her happy childhood because of learning disabilities and parents who just didn’t get it. When she fell asleep, safely tucked in his arms, Matt knew he never wanted to let her go.