by Kate Hardy
Spending time with Georgie made him feel different. It made him see his surroundings through fresh eyes; he’d grown so used to the hills and the sunrises and the sheep that he’d taken them for granted, but Georgie had made him look at things differently, really see them. The wide expanse of Porty Beach, the imposing ruins here, then clambering over the uneven path by the battlement to look out over the river to the Menteith Hills and Ben Lomond in the distance. How had he forgotten how amazing this was?
Then she tripped, and he grabbed her to keep her safe.
Oh, help. Being this close to her, feeling the warmth of her body against his—it made him want more.
She looked at him, and time seemed to stop. He was oh, so aware of how wide her eyes were, how soft her mouth was, how easy it would be to dip his head and kiss her.
He was at the point of doing exactly that when there was a cough beside them, followed by a plaintive, ‘Do you mind letting us get past?’
Saved by the tourist, he thought as he dropped his arms from round Georgie and moved so the man and his family could get past.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked. Georgie looked shaken. Because of her near trip right next to the castle battlements and a sheer drop, or because of the almost-kiss? He was too scared of the answer to ask.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, sounding a little breathless. ‘Thank you for stopping me falling.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, but he was still tingling all over from touching her.
Once they were back on the ground floor, they wandered through the gift shop, and Georgie seemed highly amused by the basket of coconut shells for visitors to borrow—and the children running round in the courtyard outside, banging the coconut shells together and pretending to be horses.
‘I still can’t quite get over the fact that I’m walking round the Monty Python castle. It’s my dad’s favourite film. Would you mind taking a snap of me on my phone in front of the castle, so I can print it off and send it to him with some of those coconut shells?’
‘Sure,’ he said. And her delight in doing something nice for her dad made him feel as if something had cracked in the region of his heart. What would it be like to have that sort of bond with your family, that sort of closeness, all those shared memories? He wasn’t envious, exactly; more wistful.
If his mum hadn’t been killed, his life would’ve been so different. Maybe she would’ve made it up with her family; maybe she would’ve found a new partner and he would’ve had a dad, or even a baby brother or sister.
Nobody had loved him enough to want to keep him for long. Then again, he’d had the chance to make a family with Zoe, and he hadn’t let his heart open wide enough to embrace a family. So really it was just as much his fault. What was wrong with him, that he couldn’t let people close? Why was he so scared of rejection? Why couldn’t he move on, away from his past?
He pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on her, taking the photograph as she’d asked.
‘You could act a bit out in front of the curtain wall and I’ll film it,’ he said. ‘Then you can send it to him after you’ve posted the shells to him.’
She laughed. ‘Genius. Thank you.’
It was impossible not to laugh as she recreated a bit of the film.
‘Did you ever think about acting?’ he asked.
‘No. I always wanted to be a doctor. And it wasn’t just to copy my big brother—I wanted to make a difference and really help people,’ she said. ‘When I did my rotation, I was quite tempted by obstetrics, because I love those first precious moments of a new life. But I love working with children.’
Was it just working with kids, though? Was her biological clock ticking? He’d decided a long time ago that he didn’t want kids. If Georgie did, then that was a good reason to keep things strictly platonic between them—otherwise he’d be letting her down, the same way he’d let Zoe down.
At the same time, the more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. She made him see the world in a different way.
She was here for six months. She wasn’t necessarily looking for for ever. Maybe—the base of his spine tingled with longing—maybe they could have a fling. Be each other’s transition person. Get this thing out of both of their systems and move on.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
‘I wanted to make a difference, too.’ Though he wasn’t going to tell her that he’d wanted to help all the children who didn’t have anyone else. That was too personal.
‘We’re on the same side, then,’ she said. ‘Right—giddy up.’ She clicked her tongue and made the coconut shells sound like horses’ hooves. ‘Come on. You, too.’
How could he resist?
It was utterly ridiculous, pretending to be on horseback and galloping all the way back to the car. He probably looked like a total idiot. But Georgie was laughing and enjoying herself, and he realised that this was fun. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything like this, if ever.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at him. And it made his stomach swoop.
Once they were back the cottage, he took Truffle out on a long walk. Georgie joined them, but when they got back to the cottage he noticed how wet her feet were.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘we need to get you some proper walking boots.’
‘I’m on an early shift,’ she said, ‘and tomorrow night I’m going to Zumba with Parm.’
‘We’ll nip out in our lunch break, then,’ he suggested. ‘And Truffle agrees, don’t you?’
The dog woofed softly. ‘So that’s settled, then,’ he said with a smile.
CHAPTER FIVE
ON MONDAY LUNCHTIME, Georgie met Ryan in his office and they grabbed a sandwich on the way down to the city to choose some walking boots.
To her surprise, the man in the shop actually measured her feet, got her to try on three different pairs of boots along with thick, comfortable socks, and them asked her to climb over a ‘bridge’ in the middle of the shop that had an uneven rocky surface before bunny-hopping down a slope to see if the boots fitted properly.
This was definitely not something she’d ever done in London.
She wasn’t used to wearing something close-fitting around her ankles and it felt weird; but, if it meant her feet stayed dry when she went out on the hills with Ryan and Truffle, she could put up with it.
‘You need to wear them indoors for a couple of hours a night for the next week,’ the shop assistant said when she’d chosen them, ‘and if they’re not comfortable just bring them back and tell us what you don’t like about them, and we can find something that suits you better.’
‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile.
‘And make sure you keep them out of Truffle’s reach,’ Ryan added.
After their shift, Ryan went home to walk the dog while Georgie went out to the Zumba class with Parminder.
‘I’m so pleased you asked me to join you,’ Georgie said.
‘You’re welcome. It’s not easy to fit into a new department. And everyone loved Clara. It was a bit of a shock when she told us she was moving to London for six months and you were coming here in her place,’ Parminder said. ‘We had no idea she was so unhappy here.’
‘Sometimes it’s not so much being unhappy, more that you need a change so you can move forward from a situation,’ Georgie said. ‘She spoke really highly of everyone in the department. It wasn’t anything that any of you did or didn’t do.’
‘Thanks. Because I just kept thinking that I must’ve been such a rubbish friend to her, and I feel bad about that. I won’t push you to tell me anything you don’t want to, though anything you do say to me I’ll keep confidential,’ Parminder said.
‘Thanks,’ Georgie said, appreciating the overture of friendship but not wanting to go back to the same problems she’d faced in London. Parminder wou
ld be kind, but Georgie didn’t want to fight off another deluge of pity. She wanted to be herself. ‘I just needed a change from London. Let’s just say my personal life was a bit...’ She wrinkled her nose. How did you describe becoming a widow and then discovering that the husband you’d thought was devoted was actually a cheat and a liar? ‘Tricky.’
‘Fair enough.’ Parminder smiled. ‘And at least Ryan’s a nice housemate.’
‘He’s been kind,’ Georgie said. At least, after the first couple of rocky days.
‘I always used to think that he and Clara would get together after his marriage broke up,’ Parminder said. ‘But they’re more like brother and sister. Clara said she loves him to bits as a friend, but there’s just no chemistry between them and she doesn’t fancy him.’
Whereas whenever Georgie let her mind wander she found herself thinking about Ryan McGregor. About how beautiful his mouth was. About how her skin tingled every time she was walking somewhere with him and her hand accidentally brushed his. About what it would be like to kiss him—especially since that moment at Doune when he’d stopped her falling and his arms had been wrapped round her, keeping her safe. If that tourist hadn’t broken the moment, would he have kissed her? Would she have kissed him back?
‘He’s such a nice guy. But he’s been so quiet since the divorce,’ Parminder said. ‘I think we all wish we could wave a magic wand and find the perfect partner for him.’
A perfect partner rules me out, Georgie thought. She obviously hadn’t been enough for Charlie, or her husband wouldn’t have had to find someone else to give him whatever had been lacking in their marriage. And Charlie was the only child of parents who loved him dearly; he’d never had to deal with heartbreak or misery. If she hadn’t been enough to keep him happy, how could she possibly be enough for a man whose heart was already broken? Plus she was far from perfect.
She changed the subject quickly. ‘It’s the first time I’ve shared a house with a dog, too. I live on my own in London. Though my brother lives a couple of floors up in the same building. Our great-aunt left us both money, and we were lucky enough to get the chance to buy the flats when the building had just been renovated. Our parents had just retired and decided to move out of London, so it was kind of nice to still have family really close by.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Parminder said. ‘Mine drive me crazy, sometimes, but it’s good to know they’re all close by.’
Ryan, Georgie thought, hadn’t mentioned having family close by, even though he’d said he’d trained in Edinburgh. Though asking would be intrusive, and she didn’t want to gossip about him.
Thankfully the class started then, and there wasn’t time to chat any more.
* * *
On Thursday, Georgie had another case that puzzled her and led her to seek Ryan’s advice.
‘Run me through it,’ he said.
‘Ben’s three. He has a fever, a rash and a swollen gland in his neck; the whites of his eyes are red and swollen, and he’s got a sore throat. His mum says the family’s new kitten scratched him on the face a few days ago and she thinks the scratch might be infected.’
‘What do you think?’ Ryan asked.
‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with the scratch.’ She frowned. ‘The rash makes me think it could be scarlet fever, measles or possibly lupus. The swollen glands hint at glandular fever, or it might be the beginning of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.’
‘But?’
She grimaced. ‘I’ve admitted him and put him on antibiotics. But his urine sample and white blood count don’t show anything out of the ordinary, he’s not responding to the usual treatment and his fever’s spiking. I’m missing something. Would you have a look at him for me, please?’
‘Of course.’
Georgie introduced Ryan to Ben and his mum. ‘Ryan’s going to take a second look at Ben for me, because Ben’s test results aren’t showing what I was expecting,’ she said with a smile.
Ryan gently examined Ben, getting him to stick his tongue out. ‘See how red his tongue is?’ he said to Georgie and Ben’s mum. ‘And there are vertical cracks on his lips. The skin on his palms is a bit red, too. I think he has Kawasaki disease.’
‘I’ve never heard of that,’ Ben’s mum said.
‘It’s quite rare,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s also called mucocutaneous lymph node syndrome. Basically it’s a disease where the blood vessels are inflamed, and we don’t know what causes it—it might be an infection—but it’s not contagious, and we can treat it.’
‘With aspirin,’ Georgie said, ‘and immunoglobulin.’
‘I thought you weren’t supposed to give aspirin to children under the age of ten?’ Ben’s mum asked.
‘Sixteen,’ Ben said. ‘You’re right, because it can cause Reye’s syndrome, but this is one of the very few medical cases where the best treatment for an under-sixteen is aspirin.’
‘You might find the skin on Ben’s hands peels a bit, over the next few days,’ Georgie said, ‘but it’s nothing to worry about.’ But she ordered an ECG and an echo to check Ben’s heart, because she knew that one of the complications of Kawasaki disease was swollen and inflamed coronary arteries. To her relief, the tests showed that Ben was fine; and, the next day, his fever had broken.
That evening, there was a team night out of bowling and pizza. And how good it was to feel part of them, Georgie thought. Everyone seemed to see her for who she was: the London doctor who really wasn’t into football or rugby, but who made good brownies. Best of all, nobody saw her as ‘Poor Georgie’. They teased her about her accent and she was pretty sure there was a competition between her colleagues as to who’d be the first to flummox her with a new dialect word every day, but she felt that they’d accepted her. Including Ryan.
Though it didn’t help that Ryan was on her bowling team, and she was sitting right next to him. There wasn’t much room on the benches by their alley, so her thigh was pressed very closely against his. Despite the fact they were both wearing jeans, she was very aware of the warmth of his body. And, a couple of times when she glanced at him, he was looking at her, too. She thought back to that moment at Doune when he’d held her, when they’d been so close to kissing, and her heart skipped a beat. She was pretty sure he felt the same attraction that she did; but what were they going to do about it?
And if they did end up kissing, what then? She didn’t want to make another mistake like she’d made with Charlie. And if she got this wrong, things could be very awkward between them at work and at the cottage. Maybe it was better to play safe. So she made sure she was sitting at the opposite end of the table when it came to the pizza part of the evening.
* * *
On the Monday evening, Georgie practically bounced into the cottage after her late shift; she’d been quiet for the last few days, so Ryan had been trying to work out how to ask her if he’d upset her. Maybe it hadn’t been him at all; maybe it was something to do with her late husband.
‘Hi. I’ll just heat your stew through,’ Ryan said. ‘And there’s a jacket potato.’
‘Thank you. That’s wonderful.’
‘You look pleased,’ he said.
‘I am. Ben’s definitely on the mend,’ she said, accepting the bowlful of stew gratefully. ‘And there are clear skies tonight.’
‘That’s great to hear about Ben, but I don’t get what the fuss is about a clear sky tonight.’ Ryan said.
‘There’s a meteor shower tonight, and it’ll be amazing because out here it’s practically pitch black skies.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Come and watch them with me when I’ve finished dinner.’
Standing with her under the stars.
Part of Ryan thought this was a dangerous move: he was already finding himself thinking about her at odd moments of the day. But part of him couldn’t resist the idea of being close to her—even if she was only offering friendship. ‘OK.’
After her meal, they went out to the garden.
‘I love the stars out here,’ she said. ‘I never get to see them so well in London because there’s too much light from the city.’
‘So you’re a star-gazing fan?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights. I’d just about talked Charlie into agreeing to go on holiday to Finland, to stay in one of those hotels where the rooms have a glass ceiling so you can watch the sky as you fall asleep and hopefully see the Northern Lights.’ She shrugged. ‘But then he was killed. And going on my own, or even with a friend, wouldn’t have been the same.’
That gave him pause for thought. A couple of times now she’d hinted that her marriage hadn’t been completely great. But what she’d just said: did it mean Charlie was the love of her life and she was still broken-hearted over his death? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said awkwardly.
‘Thank you.’
She looked embarrassed, and he wished he hadn’t been so clumsy. ‘There’s a good chance you’ll see the lights while you’re up here.’
‘Wouldn’t I have to go to the Orkneys or something, to be far north enough?’ she asked.
‘No, they’ve been seen here in Edinburgh.’
‘Maybe I’ll get Dad to forward his text alerts to me, then,’ she said. ‘Oh! Look up!’
He followed where she was pointing, and saw a meteor streaking across the sky.
‘That’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘I get why you like the night sky. I’ve never actually noticed a meteor before.’
‘They’re not hugely common, except when there’s a big shower, and then if the moon’s bright you might not actually see that many.’ She smiled. ‘You’re supposed to wish on a falling star.’
What would he wish for?
A magic wand, perhaps, to fix things for people when they went wrong.
