by Kate Hardy
‘I left the poo bags on top of the bin, because I didn’t know where to dispose of them.’
She’d picked up poo? Now, that he hadn’t expected. ‘I’ll sort it,’ he said.
‘Um, and I cooked dinner,’ she said. ‘It’ll take five minutes to heat through.’
‘Thanks, but you don’t have to cook for me.’
‘I don’t know what arrangements you had with Clara,’ she said, ‘but it would make sense for us to share the chores.’
He grimaced. ‘I’m not a great cook.’
‘Clara said.’
He felt his eyes widen. ‘You’ve talked to Clara?’
‘She texted me and said she hoped my welcome meal was good.’
He hadn’t even looked at his phone. No doubt there would be a text from his best friend asking what the hell he thought he was doing. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, guilt flooding through him. He’d let Clara down—and he hadn’t welcomed her job swap partner at all.
‘I said,’ Georgie added, ‘that it was lovely.’
Something else she hadn’t had to do: lie, to save his bacon. ‘It was terrible.’
‘It was different.’ Her lips twitched at the corners. ‘It’s the first time I’ve been offered hot mango soup.’
For a second, he wasn’t sure whether she was laughing at him; and then he realised that she was laughing at the situation.
And she had a point. It was absolutely ridiculous.
Shockingly, he found himself smiling back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Ryan McGregor. Hello.’
‘Georgina Jones, but everyone calls me Georgie.’ She got up from the sofa, and an unexpected wave of lust surged through him. Her skinny jeans showed off her figure to perfection. Georgie Jones was gorgeous.
And, when she shook his hand, again he felt that weird connection. It scared him as much as it surprised him; he hadn’t expected to react to her in that way. He didn’t want to, either; what was left of his heart definitely needed protecting.
‘Good day?’ she asked.
The aftermath of yesterday. It’d been far from good. ‘It was OK,’ he lied. And, before she could ask for more detail, he needed to distract her. ‘You got on all right with Truffle, then?’
‘Yes. I wasn’t sure if you allowed her to have treats, so I didn’t give her any of the chicken when I made the stew. But I did cook some and put it aside for her, in case you said yes.’
Again, she’d gone above and beyond, side-swiping his expectations. ‘That was kind of you. She’ll love it. Thanks.’
She shrugged it aside. ‘I don’t know what to do with dogs. But I already know no chocolate, and keep her away from shoes.’
‘Like I said, I’ve had to replace three pairs, so far.’
‘I’ll remember to keep my shoes out of her reach. We’re going to be all right with each other—aren’t we, Truffle?’ Georgie asked.
God, her mouth was pretty when she smiled. Soft and warm and inviting. It made him want to reach out and draw his thumb along her lower lip.
He shoved the thought away. This really wasn’t the time or the place. And it was completely inappropriate.
‘So she’s a rescue dog?’ Georgie asked.
‘Abandoned,’ he said. And it still broke his heart when he thought about it. He hadn’t meant to say any more, but suddenly it came spilling out. ‘No collar, no microchip. She was about six months when she was dumped. We think her original owners couldn’t cope with the demands of a puppy, so they brought her to the middle of nowhere and left her. She tried to find her way home; she was nearly hit by a car when she found the main road, but thankfully the driver stopped in time, coaxed her into his car and took her to the nearest dog shelter.’
‘Poor thing,’ Georgina said.
‘Indeed,’ he said drily.
‘How long have you had her?’
‘Just over a year.’
‘So she’s about eighteen months old now?’
‘Nearly two years,’ he said. And again he found himself explaining. Something about Georgie’s serious green eyes made him want to talk; which was weird, because he never reacted to strangers like that. He rarely opened up to his friends, either. What the hell was going on?
‘She was rehomed, but she’s a chewer—I’m guessing her first owners didn’t occupy her enough, and when she’s bored or stressed she tends to chew things. The people who took her on really wanted to keep her, but they had small children who didn’t enjoy having their teddy bears stolen and shredded, so they brought her back to the shelter after the first couple of weeks and she ended up with me.’
‘It was good of you to take her on.’
Truffle had been just as good for him. It had been Clara’s suggestion and his best friend had been right, because having the dog around had really helped him through his divorce. His dog was the only real family he had now. Not that he planned to tell Georgina about his divorce or his past. ‘She’s a good dog. But because of her past she has a few trust issues.’ Which was why he understood her so well.
‘The house I planned to buy fell through at the last minute, and most rental places don’t allow pets—especially a dog who’s known to chew. And I don’t want to put Truffle in kennels where she’ll think I’ve abandoned her.’ Because he knew just how it felt to be abandoned: again, not that he was going to tell Georgina about that. ‘She needs to know her for ever home is with me. That’s why Clara offered to let me stay with her for a bit, though the stair gate’s there to stop Truffle going upstairs,’ he said instead.
‘That’s kind.’
‘That’s Clara. She’s lovely.’
She tipped her head to one side. ‘You’re close to her?’
Closer than he’d been to most people. Which was why it hurt so much that she’d done the job swap thing without even talking to him about it beforehand. She hadn’t trusted him with how she was feeling; and he hadn’t been a good enough friend to notice something was wrong. ‘She’s my best friend. The sister I never had.’ Like the family he’d never had—and they hadn’t stayed with him, either.
* * *
Georgie thought about it. The sister he’d never had. Right now, she guessed that Ryan was feeling as frustrated and angry with Clara as her own brother was with her. But maybe this job-and-life swap thing meant that Clara would support Joshua if Georgie would support Ryan.
‘I’m a stranger,’ she said, ‘and I know next to nothing about dogs. But Clara and I are pretty much swapping lives. She’ll be getting used to my life in London, and I’ll get used to her life here. We’re going to have to make the best of sharing. If you’re really the world’s worst cook, then I don’t mind doing the cooking for both of us—but then the washing up will be your department.’ She’d spent years being the one who did everything, to keep life easy; from now on, it was equals or nothing.
‘That,’ he said, ‘sounds fair. Clara and I have a rota. We can tweak it to suit.’
‘That’s fine with me.’ She paused. ‘I stocked the fridge a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure what to get, because I didn’t know if you’re vegetarian or have any allergies. If chicken stew isn’t OK, I can cook pasta with tomato sauce tonight.’
‘Chicken stew,’ he said, ‘is absolutely fine. No allergies and I’m not fussy.’ Foster care had taught him very quickly not to be fussy about food. ‘Thank you. And either I’ll give you half of what you spent in the shop, or you give me a list and I’ll pay for the next shop, so it’s fair shares.’
‘OK. I’ll heat the stew and the rice and serve dinner at six,’ she said. ‘I’ll, um, see you in a bit.’ And she disappeared upstairs to her room.
* * *
Ryan was quiet and a bit distant when they ate.
The last time she’d shared a house with someone she didn’t know was more than a decade ago, when she�
��d been a student. Making conversation had been so much easier back then: you’d ask your fellow students about their home town, their A-level subjects and their course, and then you’d talk about music and TV and films and establish what you had in common. She couldn’t really do any of that with Ryan; it felt too much like being nosy. Still, she had a good excuse for an early night. ‘I’m on an early shift tomorrow, so I’ll head for bed.’
‘I’m on a late,’ Ryan said. ‘I would offer to take you into the hospital tomorrow morning, but there isn’t a bus back here, so you wouldn’t be able to get home until my shift finishes.’
‘I’ll be fine driving myself in,’ she said. ‘I did a recce earlier today. See you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
He wasn’t quite as abrasive tonight as he’d been the previous day, but there was definitely something upsetting him, Georgie thought. Something that had made those grey eyes full of misery. And he barely knew her, so he was hardly going to confide in her.
She wasn’t going to brood about it. Or start asking about him: because she didn’t want her own past becoming common knowledge and gossiped about, either.
At least she was starting at the hospital tomorrow. Once she was actually doing her job, something she was familiar with, she’d feel a lot better.
CHAPTER TWO
THE JOURNEY INTO work was lovely, with the sky streaked with pre-dawn colour. Georgie managed to park without a problem, then was introduced to everyone by the head of the Paediatric Department, had a copy of her rota from the department’s secretary, and got straight to work in the Paediatric Assessment Unit.
‘I’m Parminder—everyone calls me Parm,’ the nurse in the assessment unit told her with a smile. ‘I’m rostered on with you in the PAU today. Welcome to St Christopher’s.’
‘Thank you.’ So not everyone at the hospital was going to be as difficult as Ryan, then. That was a relief. ‘I’m Georgina, but everyone calls me Georgie.’
‘So are you settling in all right, Georgie?’
‘I think so. It’s very different from London—I wasn’t expecting to be living somewhere quite so rural,’ Georgie admitted.
Parminder smiled. ‘At least you’re sharing a house with Ryan. He’s such a sweetie.’
Were they talking about the same person? Ryan most definitely wasn’t a sweetie, in Georgie’s experience. He’d opened up to her a bit about his dog the previous evening, but he didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humour, and she felt as if she was treading on eggshells around him. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, trying her best to sound noncommittal.
‘He’s really good with the staff. All the students love him,’ Parminder said.
Why? Just because he was really good looking?
As if she’d asked the first question out loud, Parminder told her, ‘He’s always got time to explain things to them, and he’s really good with the kids. And he treats the nurses with respect instead of behaving as if we’re much lesser mortals.’
Ha. He’d behaved as if she was a lesser mortal.
‘Mind you, he’s been so quiet, this last year. Ever since his divorce. And he doesn’t seem to have found anyone to share his life since then.’ Parminder wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be gossiping.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t repeat anything you said,’ Georgie reassured her. Though she didn’t quite feel up to explaining that she and Ryan weren’t exactly saying much to each other.
‘And he’s had a horrible weekend—I don’t mean with you arriving,’ Parminder said hastily, ‘but that poor baby on Saturday morning.’
‘Baby?’
‘Didn’t he tell you?’ Parminder winced. ‘We had a little one in with a non-accidental head injury.’
‘Oh, no.’ Georgie went cold. That was the sort of nightmare case every paediatrician dreaded.
And it made things drop into place: everyone she’d spoken to seemed to think that Ryan was lovely. But nobody would be lovely after a case like that. It was the sort of thing that would make anyone short-tempered. Perhaps that was why she and Ryan had got off to such a rocky start.
‘He had to come in yesterday to talk to the police,’ Parminder said. ‘And I guess it’s the sort of thing you think about over and over, wondering if you could’ve done something differently to change the outcome—even though I don’t think anyone could’ve done any more than he did.’
This didn’t sound good. She had to ask. ‘The baby didn’t make it?’
Parminder swallowed hard and shook her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ Georgie said, feeling guilty about the way she’d reacted towards Ryan on Saturday. Grumpy McGrumpface. She’d had no idea. She would never have been so frosty with him if she’d known he’d had such an awful day. No wonder he’d seemed all over the place on Saturday night, incapable of even making cheese on toast. She’d just assumed he wasn’t happy about sharing the house with her and was being difficult on purpose.
Then again, he hadn’t told her what had happened, so how could she possibly have known? She wasn’t a mind-reader.
‘It’s not your fault, hen.’
It still didn’t sit well with her. But right now there was nothing she could do to solve it, and she had a job to do. ‘Let’s see our first patient,’ Georgie said with a smile.
That morning’s caseload was similar to those she’d dealt with at the assessment unit in Hampstead: rashes, head injuries, a Colles’ fracture and the first of the winter’s bronchiolitis cases. But Georgie found herself really struggling to understand her patients’ parents. In times of stress, anxious parents often gabbled their words, but with a strong Edinburgh accent on top Georgie found herself needing to ask people to repeat themselves over and over again.
Her new colleagues were kind and asked her to go to lunch with them in the staff canteen, but again she found them hard to understand; was it her, or did everyone in Scotland speak really quickly? Nearly all the conversations seemed to revolve around football and rugby—things she knew nothing about—or about people she didn’t know, and she found herself growing quieter and quieter as the break went on.
How was she going to cope with six months of this? And how could she learn to fit into such a different environment? Back in London, everyone talked about movies and music and gin. She knew what she was doing there. Here...she felt really out of the loop.
It seemed she was going to have to learn a bit about football, she thought. And maybe she could try a charm offensive tomorrow. Bring in some brownies—which maybe she should’ve done today.
She called in to pick up some ingredients from the farm shop on her way back to the cottage, and discovered that Truffle was there.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind taking her home, lass?’ Janie asked. ‘Ry mentioned this morning that you weren’t used to dogs.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said with a smile. And she could always vacuum the dog hairs out of the car.
‘I haven’t had a chance to walk her, mind. If you could?’ Janie asked.
It couldn’t be any harder than the previous day. At least now she had a better idea of what to expect. ‘Can I buy some poo bags as well?’ Georgie asked. ‘It’s just I’m not sure where Ryan keeps them.’
‘Don’t worry yourself, lass. Here.’ Janie handed her a roll of poo bags. ‘They’re on the house. And I’m guessing it would matter to you, so I can reassure you they’re the biodegradable sort and not the ones that just clog up the landfill.’
‘Thank you. That’s good to know.’
Truffle didn’t seem to mind jumping in the back of the car, and Georgie dropped the bits she’d bought back at the cottage before taking the dog out for a walk.
‘It’s as much to clear my head as to exercise you,’ she told the dog. ‘It was one hell of a first day, even though the patients were all easy. I like my colleagues, but half the time I can’t u
nderstand what they’re saying. They must all think I’m stupid.’ She sighed. ‘And Ryan. I had no idea he’d had that terrible case on Saturday. Maybe it’ll be easier between us this evening.’
They were back at the cottage before it got dark, and Georgie made a fuss of the dog before baking a batch of brownies and making a veggie chilli. ‘It’s hard to make friends when you can’t even follow what everyone’s saying,’ she said to the dog. ‘And, apart from Parminder, I got the impression that none of them think I’m up to Clara’s standards. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I guess we’ll just have to get used to each other.’
The dog nudged her, as if to say, ‘Like you and me.’ Georgie smiled and scratched the top of Truffle’s head. ‘Yeah. You’re right. Tomorrow is another day.’
She microwaved half a pack of basmati rice to go with her portion of the chilli, and fed Truffle a cup full of the kibble she’d found in the cupboard. The dog curled up on the sofa next to her while she flicked through the TV channels.
‘I have no idea if you’re allowed up here,’ she said, ‘but if you don’t tell Ryan, neither will I.’ Having the dog leaning against her, sharing warmth, felt surprisingly good. If anyone had told her five years ago that she’d quite enjoy having a dog around, she would’ve laughed. But she was rapidly becoming very fond of Truffle. There was a lot to be said for quiet companionship.
* * *
Ryan came in a couple of hours later.
‘Good evening,’ she said.
‘Good evening. Thank you for picking up Truffle. Janie texted me,’ he said.
‘It’s fine.’ She paused. ‘I made a veggie chilli—there’s a bowl in the fridge and half a packet of microwaveable rice.’
‘Thanks. That was good of you.’
‘It’s what we agreed.’ And, if she was honest with herself, she’d missed cooking for two. ‘And there’s a brownie on the plate.’
‘From Janie?’
‘No. I made some for the ward tomorrow. But I kept the chocolate well away from Truffle.’ She paused. ‘Parm told me about your case on Saturday.’
