Chapter Two

M agda folded her hands over her pregnant stomach. “The problem with Hunter was that he was—”

“An arsehole,” supplied Cordelia, eyes on her computer screen, clicking through the day’s appointments.

“No,” said Magda. “The problem with Hunter was that he—”

“Was an arsehole,” said Cordelia again, squinting and wondering if it was time to break down and finally get some reading glasses.

“Cord! Can I finish a sentence?”

Cordelia turned to where Magda was sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic practice chairs. “Magda, you’re my best friend in the world, and I’d hate to have to punch a pregnant woman, but I swear to God, if you mention my ex-husband’s name one more time I’ll be forced to do things that you’re going to regret.”

“Fine,” said Magda, rolling her eyes. “The problem with your ex—”

“The problem with my ex is that he saw fit to walk out on ten years of marriage in order to sate his carnal desires with someone younger, fitter, blonder and considerably more forgiving than me,” said Cordelia, turning her chair to the filing cabinet and pulling out a stack of new patient forms.

“No, that’s not a problem,” Magda said. “I mean, given that he was, as you say, an arsehole, the fact that he left was probably the best thing that he ever did.”

“Mmm.” Cordelia started to gather together a motley collection of pencils.

“The actual problem was that he was a perfectionist, controlling wanker with a revolving door on his trousers instead of a zipper.”

“Mmm,” said Cordelia again.

It’s not that Magda was wrong, she wasn’t particularly. Nor was Cordelia wrong, Hunter had been an arsehole. But he’d been her arsehole. And whilst walking out and disappearing off to wherever the hell he now was had probably been for the best in the end, the fact was he hadn’t just walked out on her.

He’d walked out on all their plans, everything she’d thought she’d ever wanted. Leaving her here, close to forty, childless, working as a receptionist to possibly the world’s grumpiest doctor in the little town she’d grown up in.

“Was she really blonder than you?” Magda asked. “I mean, you’re pretty blonde.”

“I have no idea,” said Cordelia. “I said it for effect.”

And Magda was her best friend, really was, which was why when Cordelia felt a spike of envy every time she saw Magda’s growing belly she ended up feeling doubly guilty. She was delighted for Magda. She just couldn’t help feeling a wee bit disappointed for herself.

She frowned, looking around.

“Magazines,” said Magda helpfully.

“Right.” The practice wasn’t due to open for another quarter of an hour. Cordelia twisted her mouth in thought. Where had she stacked the week’s magazines now?

“Er, I think they’re over there,” said Magda, nodding toward the fish tank in the corner.

“Who put them there?” said Cordelia crossly.

“There’s only me and you here, and it certainly wasn’t me,” huffed Magda. “Speaking of which, where’s the doc? Shouldn’t he be in by now?”

“Chance’d be a fine thing. He cuts it closer every morning. He’ll stroll in here at one minute before opening like a bear with a sore head.” She grabbed the magazines and splayed them out on the table in the middle of the waiting room.

“It’s been a year,” said Magda.

Cordelia sat back in her chair. “A year?” she said absently, just remembering that she’d left her packed lunch sitting on the kitchen table at home.

“Since the divorce.”

Cordelia glared at her. “Are you just here to talk about my failure of a marriage?”

“I’m here for my monthly check up,” Magda said, crossing her legs at the swollen ankles and tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. “It just happens to be a good time to discuss these things, that’s all.”

“A good time. Right.”

“Well, we’re in a public place and there are likely to be other people in the general vicinity, meaning there’s less chance of you actually decking me.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Cordelia.

“You’ve been stuck here too long,” Magda went on.

“No, no.” Cordelia made sure the ringer on the surgery phone was switched on. “I’ve seen the films, read the books, this is what’s supposed to happen.”

“What, you’re supposed to sit around waiting for Prince Charming to show up and sweep you off your feet? Sorry to disappoint, but there’s a severe shortage of princes in Whitebridge just at the moment.”

“No, I’m supposed to return to my home town to lick my wounds and then reconnect with an old high school flame and fall in love with small town life and never return to the big city.”

Magda raised an eyebrow. “Alright, well, first, you’ve never actually left Whitebridge, you’ve lived here your whole life, so God knows what big city you won’t be returning to. And secondly, he-who-shall-not-be-named was your high school flame, so other than Josh from the pub who you kissed in Lower Infants and who is very firmly now gay, I don’t know who you’d fall for.”

“I didn’t make him gay,” said Cordelia. She looked at her desk. Something was missing. Ah, right. She patted her pockets and came up empty-handed, so she picked up her bag and started to search it.

“I never said you did, I just said that…” Magda sighed. “Never mind.” She uncrossed and crossed her ankles again. “What do you want, Cord?”

“To be left alone,” Cordelia said, voice muffled as she searched the bottom of her bag. She looked up. “I might get a cat.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Phone,” said Cordelia, plunging back into the depths of her bag. She found a letter to the gas board that she’d meant to post a month ago, a red pen without a cap that probably explained why her makeup bag looked like it was dripping with blood, and half a Mars bar covered in fluff.

“It’s not there.”

“How do you know?”

Magda held up her own phone. “Because I just called it and it went to voicemail.”

“Crap. I must have left it at home.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Magda shuffled uncomfortably in her chair. “Are you sure the doc shouldn’t be here by now?”

Cordelia eyed the big clock on the wall. He was cutting it pretty fine. He had at least two referral letters to write before surgery started. “I’ll give him a ring. Maybe he overslept.”

But there was no answer when she called Doctor Morris’s home number, nor when she called his mobile. “Huh,” she said, hanging up the phone.

“Is he on holiday?”

“I think I’d know,” said Cordelia, but she checked the computer just in case. “Let’s give him another few minutes.”

“Which gives me enough time to tell you that you really need to get back out there or try some online dating or something,” Magda said.

“No and no,” said Cordelia firmly. “I’m perfectly happy alone and I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Cord, you have a lot to offer.”

“Like what?” asked Cordelia. “My natural charm? My empathy? My renowned kindness?”

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Magda said, somewhat doubtfully. “I just… I hate seeing you like this, Cord. We used to have such fun and I don’t want you to become a wrinkled old spinster who gets her face eaten off by a cat.”

“Do they do that?” asked Cordelia, reconsidering her plan to adopt one.

“They do if you die alone and they’re hungry.”

“That won’t be a problem then. I’ve got every intention of moving to that nice old folk’s home on the edge of town. You know they have Margarita Mondays? I’d move in tomorrow but they’ve got an age limit.”

The waiting room door opened. “Morning Cordelia, morning Magda,” said Mila, blue hair shining in the sun. “I’ve just popped in for a new inhaler prescription for Dash, is the doc in?”

“Not yet,” Cordelia said, starting to wonder now if something was actually wrong. “But he shouldn’t be long. Why don’t you have a seat?”

“Swollen ankles?” asked Mila, sitting down next to Magda. “They’re the worst part, or they were for me.”

“It’s the hemorrhoids for me,” Magda said.

Cordelia blocked her ears, she didn’t need to hear this. Not that she didn’t hear worse in the waiting room, but Magda was her best friend and the less she knew about her lower anatomy the better.

Time was ticking on and the doctor still wasn’t here. Plus, there was a full day of appointments to get through. She tapped her fingers on the desk in thought. There really was only one thing she could think of to do.

There were sick people to see, she needed a doctor. Any doctor would do at this point.

Wondering if she was really doing the right thing, she looked up the number for the agency online and dialed it. She was put through to a lovely lady who seemed very surprised at the call. Not as surprised as Cordelia was when she finally put down the phone though.

“Who was that?” asked Magda.

“The locum agency,” said Cordelia.

“So you’re getting another doctor in?” Mila asked.

“No, well, yes,” Cordelia said.

“Yes or no, which is it?” Magda said.

“Yes,” said Cordelia. “But not until tomorrow morning. She said it was already planned, the locum is already informed. But I certainly didn’t plan anything.”

“Weird,” said Mila.

“Annoying,” said Magda. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I’ll call and cancel today’s appointments, I’ll put up a sign directing patients to the practice in Castor, that’s the closest to here. And then we’ll be back in business in the morning.”

Mila stood up. “I’ll be back tomorrow then, it’s almost time to open the bookshop, so I’d better go.”

“I’ll wait with you while you lock up,” said Magda. “We can go and get some cake at the cafe if you want?”

“Mmm, yeah, alright,” Cordelia said. She looked around the waiting room, saw the closed door to the actual surgery. Where had the doc gone? And why had somebody told the locum agency but nobody had told her?