Dead Romantic
“It was very busy in A&E and my nose was still streaming. There were old people with broken arms, young people with broken collarbones, a couple of tombstoners who had fractured bones jumping into the sea off Madeira Cove, two pale-and-sweaties and a man with a beer gut who looked like he was fine, until he threw up black stuff all over the floor. Zoe knew what was wrong with all of them before they did. It was one of her talents, diagnosing any illness from a distance. She said it was why she n...ever ate in public, even snacky foods.
‘The smell of cancer and toasted teacakes don’t really mix,’ she said.
Three hours we were sitting in the dingy green waiting room, watching the doctors and nurses come and go, reading creased-up tea-stained magazines and ear wigging all the coffee-breathed conversations. I was holding a makeshift tea-towel-ice-bag combo over my non-stop nose. Zoe kept popping out. I thought she had bladder trouble she had excused herself so often.MoreLess
‘The smell of cancer and toasted teacakes don’t really mix,’ she said.
Three hours we were sitting in the dingy green waiting room, watching the doctors and nurses come and go, reading creased-up tea-stained magazines and ear wigging all the coffee-breathed conversations. I was holding a makeshift tea-towel-ice-bag combo over my non-stop nose. Zoe kept popping out. I thought she had bladder trouble she had excused herself so often.MoreLess
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