St Matthew's Passion - By Sam Archer Page 0,52

covers of the bed. She gripped it, astonished by its coolness, wanting to warm and comfort it like a baby. Distressingly, Fin’s hand didn’t respond, didn’t squeeze hers back.

Heedless of anyone who might be watching, Melissa leaned in close, bringing her face close to his. Even in his comatose state, Fin’s aura met hers, interacted with it, drawing her ever closer.

Her lips, parted and gently moving, pressed against his, which were dry and cool. They lingered for long seconds.

She raised her head, staring at his closed eyes. A tear ran down his cheek, tracing a thin seam. It took her a moment to understand that the tear was her own.

‘Fin. I love you,’ she breathed. ‘You’re not going to die.’

I love you...

***

‘Take this.’

Melissa swam up through layers of fog. She hadn’t been asleep, quite, but had been as close to it as made no difference. An aroma bit through the confusion: coffee.

She became acutely aware of a knot of pain in her neck, a twinge in her back. Blinking, peering about her, she grasped that she was seated in an armchair, and had been slumped forwards with her forehead resting on the edge of the bed in front of her.

Melissa looked up blearily, sweeping aside the unkempt strands of hair that hung vine-like in front of her face. A few inches above her face was a steaming polystyrene cup. Beyond, she saw Deborah, her arm extended.

Sitting upright, Melissa took the cup.

‘Thanks.’

She sipped gingerly, relishing the heat as well as the flavour and the caffeine kick. Despite the time that had passed, Melissa still felt the cold of the river in her bones.

She became aware of Deborah standing there still and glanced up at her. The nurse was gazing at her, not Fin. Her expression was difficult to read.

‘You need to get some sleep.’

Melissa shook her head. ‘Not until he wakes up.’

‘It might be a long time.’

‘Then I’ll just have to wait.’ What the nursing sister meant, Melissa knew, was: he might never wake up.

Silence followed, apart from the relentless sounds of the ventilator and the monitors. Melissa glanced at the digital clock above the bed. Its green display told her it was 05:20. How long had she been sitting there? Ten hours? Twelve?

Deborah murmured, ‘Mind if I sit down?’

Startled, Melissa nodded. ‘Pull up a chair. Um...’

The nurse didn’t waste time looking for another armchair; instead she pulled over a footstool and perched on it, half-turned towards Melissa.

‘You really love him.’

Melissa wasn’t in the mood for another fight, for yet another round of warnings and innuendoes and threats. On the other hand, she wasn’t in the mood to fight her corner either. She lifted her head and looked at Fin’s motionless profile and said, simply: ‘Yes.’

‘That’s good.’

Melissa continued her study of Fin’s face for several moments before she became aware of what she’d just heard. She turned her head, wincing at the twinge in her neck.

‘What did you say?’

Deborah was watching her levelly. Her expression was one Melissa had never seen her wear before. There was a softness there, which she’d shown traces of before; but more than that, there was compassion.

‘I said it’s good.’

For a second the two women gazed at one another. Then Deborah folded her hands under her chin and said, ‘It was never about you at all, Melissa. Never about you.’

Melissa felt in her exhausted, befuddled state that this was a riddle too far. She was about to protest when Deborah went on.

‘I know what you thought. You believed I had it in for you. That I disliked you personally. You thought I was jealous of you and Fin, of what you felt for one another and of what was clearly developing between the two of you. That I had designs on Fin myself.’ Deborah watched Melissa for a moment and must have seen it in her face, the evidence that she was right, because she nodded a fraction. ‘None of that’s true. Please believe me.’

After a pause Melissa said, ‘Then… why?’

‘I wanted to protect the department, as I said. An office romance between two people so crucial to the running of our service, so essential to the survival of our patients, is always going to have an impact on the quality of the work those two people are able to deliver. It’s happening already, as we’ve discussed before. Attention wanders. Mistakes get made.’

Fin’s monitor skipped a beat or two and both women glanced over at his still form, the only movement the rise and fall of