“Patrick! Have you seen my keys?” Holly called as she frantically searched around her. He didn’t reply but she never expected him to. He was probably still sulking in bed because she had to go to work and wasn’t staying at home with him like he wanted her to. Of course he was being selfish but this was Patrick, he didn’t ever think about any one other than himself.
“Are you listening to me Patrick?” Holly shouted again but still there came no reply, not even any sound of movement, so she suspected that he’d probably gone back to sleep. Quickly she tipped the contents of her handbag out onto the sofa and started to rustled through it, she found everything else that she had ever lost including an odd sock but still there was no sign of her keys. Why did this have to happen today of all days? It was her first day working at the new children’s hospital, her first day out of A+E, and she wasn’t going to be able to get there. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without her keys. She ran up the stairs to try and re-check the bedroom where she had defiantly had them last night. Well, she thought she’d defiantly had them. As soon as she opened the door she saw him sitting there on the bed, head held high with his eyes shinning cheekily, asking what he’d done wrong. As ever he was so arrogant, so beautiful, so Patrick.
“Keys?” She asked him again. He smiled secretively as she searched the dressing table: shouting and swearing like the world was coming to an end. She turned round in time to see him jump off the bed and then gently pad down the stairs, everything he did was with such grace and ease she found it hard not to just sit and stare at him.
Holly took another look around the room and saw that there was nowhere up here that her keys could possibly be hiding that she hadn’t already search at least three times this morning. So she waited a few minutes before she followed Patrick down the stairs. She didn’t want him to think that she was interested in what he was doing. That knowledge would only make his already over-inflated ego even bigger.
She walked into the kitchen and gasped when the clock on the wall told her that she had only ten minutes before her first shift was due to start. Holly looked around the kitchen and saw Patrick lolling on a chair staring at her keys, which lay directly opposite him on the table. Why she hadn’t thought of looking there she didn’t know.
“Thank you Patrick.” She said gratefully as she picked up the keys off the table, popped them into her pocket and gave him a light kiss on the top of the head. She got a tin of cat food from off the side and scraped the contents into a bowl. Patrick jumped down off the chair and rubbed against her legs as he ate.
“See you later Patrick.” She called as she ran out of the house. Leaving the only man in her life eating cat food on her kitchen floor.
Part 2
“My head hurts.” Holly said as she picked up the painkillers in front of her and quickly swallowed them in one gulp with some water. Today had not been a good day. Work was stressful as she expected it to be and her boss hadn’t been too happy at her turning up late for her first day. But none of it could be helped; none of it was her fault. That’s what Holly told herself over and over, all day, everyday. None of this was her fault. Whether it was she fault or anyone else’s she didn’t want to think of it. Not now. All she wanted to do at the moment was curl up on the sofa with a hot water bottle, a large box of chocolates, last week’s Eastenders omnibus and Patrick.
“Here kitty.” She called as she made her way to the sofa and as ever he responded to her call. So faithful, so patient, he would wait all day just to see her. To be with her. Quickly she pressed the play button on the recorder and settled down into a comfy position, Patrick resting on her chest purring contentedly.
The night drew on as nights often do and Holly was relieved to be so caught up in who was cheating on who in Eastenders that for once she wasn’t thinking about herself. Or, more precisely, she wasn’t thinking about him. No, she was just thinking about which chocolate to eat next and how much she hated Phil Mitchell. And it was all well and good; she was safe, happy even in this little world where everything was fine and wonderful. Where the painkillers stopped her thumping headache, the Cat perched on her chest stopped the feeling of being alone and the combination of Eastenders, wine and chocolate made her forget the thumping pain she had in her heart.
The video stopped. The little light went out and the tape began to rewind back to the beginning and so slowly Holly grudgingly got up and turned the TV off. The silence that filled the room shocked her. She really was alone; there was no Kat Slater, no Phil Mitchell, and no Patrick. Well, unless you counted the cat that was. Ah yes the cat. The wonderful man she came home to who was always pleased to see her, never complained when she was late home, never accused her of seeing other cats behind his back. The cat she named after her one love, the one that couldn’t be here tonight but sent his apologise and a cat instead. In true Patrick style.
She looked at the photo that sat on top of the video recorder. One of her and Patrick: the real Patrick, before she had ever needed Eastenders and a cat to fill the gaping void in her life. It was taken in med school all those years ago. The smile on her face was real, laughing at some joke that only she and Patrick shared, locked in a world of their own. Laughing at the sad old has-been she sees before her now, gazing on with eyes shiny from tears at times gone by and broken dreams. Would she still be smiling, still be laughing if she knew that in a few short years she would become that person? Left alone with only memories, photos, and the thought of another day like this tomorrow to keep her going. And of course a cat called Patrick. Who could forget Patrick? Holly certainly couldn’t.
Part three
The alarm clock went off just like it did, every day at seven minutes past seven. Holly opened her eyes and saw the familiar sight greeting her eyes. The daylight was peeping gently through the curtains, papers littered the desk at the other end of the room, empty wine bottles lay empty and abandoned on the floor and her clothes lay in a pile over a chair. She was scared to move, knowing that the pain through her head would shortly follow. She put it down to a hang over but she now started to get them even when she hadn’t been drinking. That was just her luck: all the pain, none of the pleasure. But where was the pleasure in getting drunk alone? Getting so drunk that you don’t know where you are any more, who you are. That was the only bit of fun: forgetting. Quickly she sat up and tried to ignore the aches and pains she felt every day, knowing that she had to go on no matter what she felt.
She’d only been working at the children’s hospital for a few weeks but it felt like years. Of course she loved doing it, she wouldn’t put herself through it if she didn’t but the fact that every time she got close to a patient they either died or went home to their loving families hurt. Not one of them would remember her in a few years where as she had their little faces drawn onto her mind for all eternity, every time she closed her eyes they were there, staring back at her. She glanced in the mirror on her way to the bathroom: she looked awful. What had she been drinking last night? She didn’t remember any more, she didn’t care. She stepped into the shower and scrubbed until she felt clean, well, until she didn’t feel as dirty.
It was a cold, December morning and she had to wear three layers of clothes in the house, let alone out. The tea she drank was boiling but she couldn’t feel a single drop as it flowed down her throat. Gently Patrick jumped up onto her lap, rubbing his head against her and making her smile: the first smile of the day. He knew when she was upset; he cared if she was upset. Which is more than can be said for some. She stroked him gently and he purred. The contact made her feel more alive than she had in a while. Scooping up Patrick she gently dropped him into his basket as she picked up her keys and phone from the table. No messages, no nothing.
“Bye Patrick!” She called as she did everyday once she got to the door. She opened it but suddenly she felt faint. The throbbing in her head increased and she fell lifelessly to the ground. The crash she made was loud but none of the neighbours seemed to hear, only the cat seemed to sense her distress and only the cat came to see if she was all right.
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