Except the more he spoke – as we all sat there in my office – the more I began to wonder if I hadn’t actually got him totally wrong. He was exceptionally articulate and controlled for a seventeen-year-old. It was hard to believe he was the offspring of the great ape sitting alongside him. I established quite quickly that he attended a nearby private school, which possibly explains it, but yes, it threw me. He was clearly very bright indeed and I watched him carefully as he talked. He was also astonishingly good-looking; there was no debate to be had there. He was on the cusp of that final shift from beautiful boyish vulnerability to masculine dominance; fatally attractive to a certain kind of person, in my experience.
But ‘the Devil hath the power to assume a pleasing shape’, and Jonathan Day was far more than a pretty smile and big brown eyes. I found myself engaged as he made some pithy observations and, to my mounting dismay, I began to see how Alex might well have had her head turned by such a boy. I was certainly concerned enough to check the days she’d worked in June and, on Monday, the 19th she was off – she does a four-day week because of her young children. My first assumption was that Day junior had struck lucky with this detail – I wasn’t worried that it confirmed anything bar that it was logistically possible that she might have gone to his house that day, and yes, it was.
Would Alex be so foolish as to have responded to a note left by a young, male – attractive – patient on her car however? Surely not. No health care professional would do that. They’d just completely ignore it… but while one would like to think she’s learnt her lesson on that front, one also knows Alex can be far too easily led for her own good.
As I listened to Day junior, I started to think about the recent lunchtime when I found Alex crying at her desk. It would have been in August, I think. I didn’t really know how to comfort her; like most British men of my age I’m fairly useless when it comes to being confronted with a crying woman in a social context, but when I worriedly asked her what was wrong, she confided that she was experiencing some marital difficulties.
I was very sad to discover that her husband seemed to be repeating his behaviour pattern of old, this time substituting Alex for some young colleague of his. As my mother would say, there’s no fool like an old fool. She was obviously upset, but at the time I had no reason to think her mental capacity had been affected by what her husband had rashly done. I think I would have staunchly pointed out to anyone who suggested such a thing what an insult to the intelligence of an exceptionally capable woman that was. But as I listened to Day junior hold court, I began to wonder if perhaps a boy like this appearing in her office, flirting with her when she was already feeling rejected by her husband, had proven just too deliciously tempting?
There are lots of things that fascinate people about doctors, but one of the things I’m asked most at dinner parties is, do you ever fancy your patients? Is it tricky when you’re having to intimately examine a very attractive person?
My answer is always the same. Most people – unless they are attention-seeking nut jobs – come to the doctors because they have something wrong with them: lumps, bumps, boils, bleeding bowels, rectal protuberances, pubic lice, ulcers, puss-filled hair follicles, heavy periods, testicular torsion, excessive bloating or wind… aroused yet? Exactly. It doesn’t matter how attractive a person might be, I just see symptoms – and almost everybody looks better with clothes on, trust me.
Of course, sometimes a person will walk into your room who is exceptional. And yes, we’re only human. But that’s when the experienced doctor then simply detaches from that emotional response and focuses on the job. The patient is there to be treated, not flirted with. The professional within us must remain empathetic, naturally, but we do not allow ourselves to become compromised. How on earth would we cope with the extremely distressing cases – of which there are plenty – unless we are able to compartmentalise successfully? We would be basket cases, no use to anyone. It was one of the first lessons I taught Alex after the Rob debacle: detach and compartmentalise. Protect yourself. Surely she hadn’t let Day undo all of her good work?
I admit I was unsettled and concerned enough to give the rest of Day’s statement my undivided attention.
9
Jonathan Day
Cherry was the first person to notice my mind was elsewhere. We’ve been going out for over seven months now: she was never going to miss it. The first time she confronted me was in her bedroom after school on the Monday after I’d left everyone in the pub and gone home.
We were watching Nigahiga. ‘I literally don’t get this,’ I said, staring at the screen. ‘Five million views for picking rubbish out of his bin and he’s not funny. He’s not actually funny.’
‘I like him.’ Cherry shrugged. ‘He’s authentic – which is the golden ticket. He doesn’t pretend to be someone he isn’t.’
‘I know what authentic means,’ I snapped, and she raised her eyebrows.
‘You’re very touchy recently,’ she remarked. ‘Talking of truth and lies, why aren’t we doing it any more?’
‘What?’ I pretended to look puzzled. ‘We are.’
‘No, we’re not.’ She changed position and lay on her front on the bed, crossing her feet over at the ankle. Everything had become a selfie pose with her; she’d almost completely stopped moving like a normal person. ‘Not since you got your leg fixed. Have you gone off me?’
‘No.’
‘Am I fat?’ She twisted over on her back and stuck her long legs up in the air.
‘Shut up.’
‘Seriously. Am I getting fat? You can tell me.’
I sighed. ‘Of course you’re not.’
‘No, Jonny, that’s right. I’m not fat. I got 1K likes when I posted in just a suit jacket last week. Someone said I AM Lolita clickbait.’ She sat up suddenly and crossed her arms. ‘So it’s not me. That’s for sure. I’m still doing good business. You though? Not so much.’
‘Can you please not talk like you’re American? It really pisses me off. You were born in Bromley, not Brooklyn.’ I reached over and turned the iPad off grumpily.
‘OK. Stick this in your mockney pipe and smoke it, then.’ She shrugged. ‘Your numbers are shit. You’re not getting any more followers because you’re not putting in the effort. You need to be posting every day at this stage. There is no way we’re even vaguely ready to be YouTubers yet. Joe and Zoe, on the other hand, are out there right now, living our lives with their millions of followers, houses, endorsements, and cute little dogs. How do you feel about not being part of that narrative?’
‘Don’t channel Taylor Swift like that. It makes you sound like an immense bell-end.’
‘Whatever. I can tell you I do NOT feel good. I refuse to be part of generation mute. I love you, but I want to be out there loud and proud. If you’ve gone off the idea of YouTubing together, then fine, but at least have the courtesy to tell me, so I can get your replacement sorted.’
I scoffed. ‘As in replacement boyfriend?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘I mean, someone more committed to creating their online presence. Of course I still want you as my boyfriend.’ She sat up on her knees and pulled her tie loose, unbuttoned her shirt, unhooked her bra and just looked at me, half-naked. She was right, she looked amazing – and I felt absolutely nothing.
‘There are so many people who would kill to see me like this in real life, and you’re the only person who gets to, but you don’t want it,’ she said. ‘So, who have you met? Where did you go last Friday night when you just disappeared?’
‘I went home, Cherry. That’s all. I was tired.’
‘Do you think Joe Sugg gets tired, or do you think he’s out there right now writing his next book? Your last Instagram was over five days ago. It’s not good enough, Jonathan.’
I was suddenly bored. Bored of it all. ‘I am NOT a mockney. That’s just bloody rude.’ I got up, grabbed my phone and banged out of the house.
She didn’t come after me, and I didn’t care. I got into my car and roared off down the drive, only stopping once I was back out on the lane, to text Alex from the burner.
Can I see you?
So much for my playing it cool. I sat and waited for ten minutes, but she didn’t answer. I gave up and went home. Cherry messaged me later that night with an apology of sorts.
It’s good that we argue! People are going to love this shit! Will they won’t they, do they don’t they? Trust me. We are going to rule!