After a couple of hours, she begins to feel dizzy from hunger, worry, and information; Harmon is a real resident – he beats the crap out of her intelligently, with a little effort, sometimes laughing, sometimes shouting; and Emily pauses between sequences to get a closer look at him: high cheekbones, wide chin, narrow lips with several scars, short dark hair the color of his eyes-the same brown-black hair; a tattoo can be seen from under his robe-a part of the pattern, not covered by his shirt, covers his neck. The same scar on his right cheek, the same tiny round glasses that made him look like an outlandish bird.
She didn't think he could be easy: Harmon seemed aloof to her, intimidating; but his laugh was infectious as hell, and you got used to the way he spoke, and he spoke as if he were repeating important points on purpose, which you wouldn't want to understand and remember.
James explains: change in the same place as always; locker is the same, key coming soon. Laughs: the previous one never did. The entrance to neurology is different, not through the main one, and should be forgotten about – and not to be seen by Olivia, because Moss is sleeping with her, and it doesn't matter what they talk about there. He's not going to let Moss see her either, and if she does, she's going to run like hell; Harmon repeats that Moss can't fire her, because she's in the Clark crew, and only the neurosurgeon herself is contracted to move her team; but she can make a lot of trouble for her life.
Stay out of anyone's sight, Emily just remembers.
– You'll get just over fifteen hundred pounds a month in a lump sum," Harmon informs her.
Emily coughs, catching air in her mouth.
£1,500.
That's the most money she's ever touched in her life!
– How much?
– Sometimes it'll be as much as two," the resident went on, "if Clark puts you on duty with another brigade; and it probably will be-you need more experience, yes. With the other brigade, then; and then you'll come back. While you stand by her and watch, do all the basic, stand and watch, remember? Don't go anywhere, so no-here; then maybe something more serious, if she so chooses, of course, yes.
And then comes the moment she's been trying to avoid for so long.
– You need to buy a robe. No synthetics, cotton and polyester, you can have linen; but best of all, of course, satori or extraflex, remember, yes, satori, you can have linen, a robe, so.
– And what is Dr. Clark's robe made of? It's so beautiful. – Emily makes puppy dog eyes.
– Cotton, silk, polyester," the resident grins. – Liked it, too, didn't she? She takes it to the cleaners every two or three days, yeah, I've seen it myself, so it's a lot of trouble, yeah. But it's nice, though. And it costs a lot," Harmon grumbled.
– I'm afraid I can't even afford synthetics right now," Emily sighs.
Harmon raises an eyebrow – his glasses slide off his face funny – and shakes his head: he thinks a doctor without a gown is a doctor without hands.
– It has to be now," he says. – Yes, now, not tomorrow, now, because Clark already wants to talk to you after lunch, yes, and we still have to collect the papers, so we need a robe… What to do, yes, what to do… Okay, I will think, maybe Clark will think of something, yes…
He leads her down confusing corridors for a long time, until the "Employee Medical Center" sign appears in front of them. A couple more doors, a cold metal corridor, and Harmon literally pushes her into a narrow room.
They take blood, swabs, tests of some kind; they do not speak to her-an elderly nurse only ticks and signs endless vials, stamps the forms, phones the lab, dictates Johnson's data.
From the medical center, they run to the makeshift Human Resources Department, where Harmon has a long and florid conversation with a young girl, making eyes at her, shoving Emily to the side to nod and smile, and then finally getting the coveted file.
– Sweetheart," says the resident, "you are my treasure, you know, yes, my treasure. I owe you your favorite coffee, yes, I still remember what you like. Coffee, then.
And, picking Emily up under her elbow again, he dashes onward – the finance and legal departments are located one floor above.
Emily had never been in this part of the building before-Melissa had checked her out, and there was nothing else for her to do here. The sterile, lofty ambiance of the hospital was nowhere to be seen: the walls were wood-paneled, the floor was dark purple parquet. Instead of blinds, the windows have thin curtains, water coolers on every corner, flowers, and soft couches. No signage – without Harmon, she'd never have figured out where anything was.
Four floors of hospital governing bodies – lawyers, boards of directors, the chief medical officer and his secretaries, financial departments, human resources, waiting rooms, boardrooms… Emily swiftly passes one sliding door after another, out of the corner of her eye sees a dozen people sitting behind a huge table, recognizes one of them as Moss, and pulls her head into her shoulders.
– Dr. Clark has arranged for you to get two work cards in your hands," Harmon says in an unexpectedly even voice, and Emily flinches – so alien his intonation seems without the eternal repetition. – One you'll be on the record, the other you won't.
– Do you have a deal? – Emily barely keeps up with him.
Two working cards, she exults; she doesn't care about her seniority, as long as she gets to be a teller without any record of competency!
Harmon leaves her question unanswered-just takes the two laminated, A5 cards. Her own work history: hired – fired with a note, hired – employed to date.
She still can't believe what's happening, even when her fingers touch the cold pavement, even when the girl secretary smiles at her, even when Harmon claps her on the shoulder again.
It doesn't work that way.
She knows.
But it still flies high.
* * *
She hits the ground half an hour later-when Clark silently slams the office door in her face without explaining much; Harmon runs off to lunch, promising to bring her the whole package of papers afterwards, and Johnson herself has no idea what she should do now.
She has never had the means to buy lunch in the hospital cafeteria – a single cup of coffee costs more than ten pounds, and she does not even think about the cost of hot meals; so Emily, deciding that she will have to do it sometime anyway, goes to explore the work building.
Except that her feet take her to another block – a huge, green-glowing "P" and a hundred signs below it. The Psychology and Psychiatry Department is easily accessible through the seventh floor: an elevator, two corridors, a huge glass vault with awards and photographs, and a small staircase. A few more doors and brightly colored signs on the wall, and Emily enters the main part of Block P.
