She looked at him in amazement. ‘You don't waste much time, do you? You only got here today.’
He shrugged. ‘I'm a stranger here, I know no one socially. We're going to be colleagues and probably friends. I certainly hope so. It's just that I'd like to talk to you out of the hospital atmosphere. And I already know that you're not attached at the moment.’
The invitation was utterly unexpected and her first reaction was to refuse at once. She wondered why. She knew she was capable of looking after herself.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I'd like a ride in your silver car so I can make my little brother jealous.’
She looked at his face intently. If he showed the slightest hint of masculine self-satisfaction, if his face betrayed the slightest hint that he thought he'd made a conquest, she'd change her mind at once. She'd seen the expression on faces of other men who'd thought they were God's gift to women.
But not this one. He just looked quietly pleased. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘When can we arrange it?’
She thought ahead, knowing there was some flexibility in her hours. ‘Could you manage late Wednesday afternoon?’ she asked. ‘That is, if nothing comes up.’
‘Wednesday afternoon will suit me fine — I think I can organise my timetable. But this is a hospital and I know something can always come up.’ He smiled at her. ‘Looking forward to it to no end, Jane. We'll sort out the details on Wednesday morning.’ He raised his hand, the engine purred more loudly and the car drew away. She noticed that he stuck rigidly to the speed limit the hospital tried – often in vain – to enforce.
She felt herself warming to him, pleased that he'd said he was looking forward to being with her. Only when she started cycling home did she wonder how many other women had fallen for that same smile. One thing was certain. She wasn't going to.
For some reason she cycled back more energetically than usual. Once home she found that Sue was equally warm through working in the garden, and the two sat in the kitchen and had a coffee.
‘How's the new anaesthetist?’ Sue asked, pushing over a packet of chocolate biscuits. ‘Is he as gorgeous as Ann said?’
‘He's good, very competent. Most important, he's going to get on with Edmund Steadman. He is as gorgeous as Ann said and he's taking me out on Wednesday afternoon.’
Sue looked dubious. ‘Are you sure that's a good idea? He's moving a bit quickly.’
‘It's probably not a good idea,’ Jane said cheerfully. ‘But I'm a big girl, I've been forewarned and I can look after myself. Our friendship will be casual — on my terms.’
Sue smiled. ‘Something tells me the wonderful Dr David Kershaw might have met his match.’
But Jane wasn't so sure.
Both of them managed to get the time off on Wednesday. ‘Pick me up at my house,’ she told him that morning. ‘The hospital will gossip in time but we don't have to make it easy for them.’
‘That suits me fine. I don't like being gossiped about.’
I'll bet you don't, she thought to herself.
She cycled home at lunchtime, and then irritated herself by thinking too hard about what she should wear. After all, they were only colleagues going out for a friendly drink. Still, she wanted to look, well, attractive. She took out the teddy Sue had given her then put it back. Definitely not.
The Porsche was a low-slung sports car so, bearing in mind the difficulty of getting in and out, she decided to wear a pair of black velvet trousers. With them she wore a simple black sweater, and put to hand the navy blue fleece she wore to the sports ground. She unpinned her hair, shook it out and brushed it. Then she waited, telling herself that she wasn't impatient.
When he rang the doorbell late in the afternoon she tried to force herself not to rush to the front door. Then she decided that was childish, and ran as she usually did. He was wearing the black leather jacket again, but this time with a dark blue shirt and trousers. He looked wonderful, the darkness of his clothes contrasting with the gold of his hair.
In his turn, he was shocked. ‘Your hair, I didn't realise it was so long,’ he said. ‘It's really beautiful.’
It was a short but obviously sincere compliment. ‘My sole vice,’ she told him. ‘I know it's impractical in Theatre so I keep it pinned up. But I've always had long hair and I like it. When I unpin it, it makes me feel free.’ She shook her head so that her hair billowed round her.
He reached out to catch a strand. ‘It's like spun gold,’ he said.
‘Look at us two. Both dressed in black and both with yellow hair. People will take us for brother and sister.’
‘Oh, I do hope not,’ he said.
They walked down to the car, where he opened the door for her to get in then climbed in himself. The methodical fastening of seat belts followed. She'd never been in a car like this before and found it rather exciting. They weren't sitting but semi-reclining. The black leather seats were surprisingly comfortable, and in front of her was a bewildering selection of dials and levers – very different from her own six-year-old Fiesta. Even the subdued roar of the engine sounded expensive.
Earlier in the day, when they'd finalised their arrangements, they'd decided to go to the Black Lion, a pub in Wales she'd visited before. She'd told him that she didn't want dinner because she'd have to be back quite early – just a sandwich or something would do.
‘I hope we can do a little better than that.’
‘Well, the Black Lion has pizza ovens, and the pizzas are supposed to be very good.’
So the Black Lion had been decided on. Now she asked, ‘Do you want directions? We turn left onto the main road and then —’
‘Not necessary. I looked up the place on the map and memorised the route. You just lie back and enjoy the ride. Now … this is what a Porsche can do.’
They had threaded their way through the suburbs onto the slip-road for the motorway. He put his foot down on the curve, and as the car accelerated for the first time she understood the thrill that speed brought. The contoured seat held her as her neck and back were forced backwards. The engine was snarling now and she laughed with sheer exhilaration. ‘Different from your Ford Fiesta?’ he asked.
‘Just a bit!’
David was a good driver and drove the car fast but well, taking no stupid risks. ‘When I'm driving fast I tend not to talk,’ he told her. ‘I can only do one thing well at once so pick a tape if you like.’ He indicated a full rack.
She didn't pick a tape. Instead, she pushed the appropriate button to see what was already in the deck. To her great surprise she heard a Gregorian chant. ‘I didn't expect this of you,’ she said.
He grinned. ‘What did you expect, then?’
‘Something like Sinatra's “Songs for Swinging Lovers”?’
‘I think I'd better concentrate on my driving,’ he said. ‘I'll answer that remark later.’
For half an hour they drove, Jane telling him which places were interesting to visit, along with a bit of history. It was getting dark by the time they reached their turn-off to the maze of little roads that led to the Black Lion. ‘I could map-read now if you want,’ she offered.
Once again he shook his head. ‘Still no need. I had a good look at the map — it'll be a bit of a test to see if I can remember the route.’
And he did get it right. They drove up to the Black Lion, which was an old whitewashed pub with an illuminated car park. She had been there before and David liked the place at once. ‘One of the troubles with Birmingham is that it's too hard to get out of,’ he said. ‘This is in the country, and it's great.’
They found an alcove to sit in and ordered a pizza each, choosing from a bewildering variety of toppings. The pizzas would take about twenty minutes, they were told. Jane asked for a glass of white wine and David for a glass of red. ‘Top limit is two glasses when I'm driving,’ he said. ‘I'm a bit particular about drinking and driving.’
‘I'm very pleased to hear that.’
The drinks were placed on the table in front of them,
but neither of them made a move to pick theirs up. Instead, they looked at each other speculatively. Then she smiled, perhaps a little too sweetly.
‘Now you're going to warn me,’ she said. ‘You're going to tell me that you're only interested in a casual relationship and I'm not to take you seriously. Anything between us will just be a fun thing. There is absolutely no prospect of any long-term commitment — anything like marriage, for example. But we can still have a good time together.’
He blinked, lifted his glass to his mouth, sipped from it and then coughed and spluttered. He groped in his pocket for a handkerchief. ‘I think that's the most off-putting thing any woman has ever said to me,’ he said eventually. ‘What on earth made you say it?’
‘Just tell me that you weren't going to say something like that — if not now, then in the next couple of times we were out — and I'll apologise.’
He was shrewd, she already knew that. ‘You've been checking up on me.’
‘Not exactly. I heard about you purely by accident. I've got a very good friend who works at Lady Mary Hospital in Birmingham. Ann Deeds. Remember her?’
‘Yes, I remember her very well. But I thought we parted good friends.’
‘You did part good friends. She still likes you. She says that you warned her, said that the affair was casual, that you couldn't have been more honest.’
‘So why are you holding it against me?’
She looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘I'm not holding anything against you. How could I? I've come out with you. I'm enjoying your company. I even gave your little speech about a casual relationship to save you the trouble. However, I would suggest that saying a relationship must remain casual is a bit of a cop-out. You ought to know that, in spite of you saying that, a lot of women will still take you seriously.’
‘Yes, I'd thought of that. And each time I'm sorry. But I like the company of women. Jane, I don't think you're being really fair to me.’
‘I hope you're not going to say that it's not your fault that they suffer,’ she threatened.
‘No. I know it's my fault.’ He seemed to have recovered a little from his initial shock as he sipped more wine and looked at her curiously. ‘This is unusual. I feel I have to justify myself to you. It's not something I’m accustomed to feeling.’
‘I hope you're not going to quote My Fair Lady to me, and ask why a woman can't be more like a man. Because the answer is simple. They're different.’
‘So I see. Jane, I'm sorry I'm not the man you thought I was. We'll have our pizzas and then I'll take you back home.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Why? We're enjoying each other's company. What you want I want, too. Just to sit here and talk.’
‘Yes, but …’
Their pizzas arrived. They were on wooden plates, already cut into slices, and their smell was truly wonderful.
‘Saved by the pizza,’ he said. ‘This smells too good to argue over. Can we have a truce while we eat?’
‘Truce,’ she agreed. ‘Aren't anchovies super?’
After they'd finished their pizzas they both agreed that though they didn't really need it, they would have ice cream too. That was also wonderful. To finish they ordered espresso coffees, then smiled contentedly at each other and agreed that it was a bit odd to have such successful Italian food in a rural Welsh pub.
‘I guess I was a bit ratty with you earlier,’ she said. ‘Perhaps my blood sugar was low — I've had nothing to eat since my muesli breakfast.’
‘More bad decisions are taken through low blood sugar than incompetence,’ he said. ‘I feel better myself. So, we are going to be friends?’
‘Well, of course we are. That is, I think we are. You might have some irritating faults that I don't know about yet. And I might have faults that irritate you.’
‘Not faults and you don't irritate me. But you can surprise me, I know that.’
‘Friends it is, then.’ She picked up the second glass of wine he'd ordered. ‘We'll go out on occasion, just when we feel like it. You're the best-looking unattached man in the hospital — people will quite envy me.’
‘I'm happy to be of service,’ he said doubtfully.
‘Actually, meeting you is very handy. Last week I had my twenty-ninth birthday and I told my friends I was giving myself a year to get married in. So it's got to be a casual affair with you, hasn't it?’
‘It has? Why?’
‘Let's face it,’ she said judiciously, ‘you're not good marriage material, are you?’
He looked at her as if unsure of what to say. ‘You're getting at me again, aren't you?’
‘Never! I'm being as honest with you as you were going to be with me.’
He drained his glass of red wine and waved to the waiter. ‘I'm going to order myself a lemon and lime because I'm driving, but never have I felt more in need of a double brandy. Jane, I've never met anyone like you. You unsettle me. Do you want another drink?’
‘I'll have the same as you.’
Once again she noticed his unconscious movement, stroking the tips of the finger of his left hand across the inside of the fingers of his right. Perhaps he was stressed. ‘Let's talk about something other than you and me, shall we?’ she asked with a sincere smile.
After that the conversation was enjoyable. David had a quiet, detached sense of humour, quite different from her own, a more robust sense of fun. Inevitably, they talked shop. He was interested in pain control, a newish branch of anaesthetics, and told her of his hopes to eventually set up a pain control clinic in the hospital.
‘When I took on this job I said I'd only do it if there was a chance of setting up something new. The CEO was quite interested — he's hoping to get me some money to start a clinic. He's asked me to submit detailed proposals. And until then I'll be doing some work on the wards.’
She was curious. ‘What have you got in mind?’
‘They're very common in America, less so here. You need an interdisciplinary team —properly trained nurses, physiotherapists, physicians, neurosurgeons, anaesthetists, social workers, even, psychiatrists. And they've all got to co-operate. Did you know that time off work through back pain costs the country just under four billion pounds a year in lost production? Invalidity benefit for back pain costs just under five hundred million pounds. A good pain-relief clinic will pay for itself in months, not years.’
Jane smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘When do you start?’
‘In a small way, at once. Would you like to work with me on occasion — if you can be released from Theatre?’
She'd never thought of anything like this. ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘I think it would be quite interesting.’
Eventually, she had to ask him to take her back. ‘But we're enjoying ourselves,’ he said. ‘Can't I have at least another half-hour of your company?’
She shook her head. ‘I've got work to do,’ she said.
‘At this hour of the night?’
She had told only a few people, but she decided she could tell him. ‘I do voluntary work,’ she said. ‘I'm a Samaritan. You know, if you're suicidal or have personal problems and there's no one you can talk to, you ring up and if you're unlucky you might get me.’
‘You're a scrub nurse by day and a Samaritan by night? Don't you see enough trouble in the day?’
‘I only do a couple of shifts a week and an occasional weekend. It can be harrowing work, but I get a kick if I think I've helped someone. That makes up for the calls when you think you've done no good at all.’
‘I see. We'd better get you back, then. Shall I drive you straight to the office?’
She knew she'd need her own car later so she said, ‘No. If you could take me straight home, that would be fine.’
There was little conversation on the trip back, but it was quite amiable. She played another of his tapes – Handel's Messiah of all things – while he concentrated on his driving, and it wasn't long before they were outside her house.
He walked her to the front door
, where she turned and briskly kissed him. ‘I've really enjoyed tonight,’ she said. ‘We must do it again sometime.’
‘Wait,’ he protested. ‘I know we'll be working together tomorrow, but when can I see you again properly?’
She thought for a moment. ‘I'm busy for the rest of the week, and I'm playing on Saturday. But we could have a drink in the clubhouse afterwards.’
‘Playing?’ he asked. ‘Clubhouse? You've lost me.’
‘I play hockey most weekends.’ She kissed him again. ‘I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Now, off you go. I don't want to be late.’
She only needed to collect her car keys, and then she was in her Fiesta, heading for the little Samaritans' office. It would be good to listen to other people's problems – she didn't want to think about any she might have herself.
When she got back home, much later, she found Megan in the kitchen, making her late night cocoa. ‘How did it go?’ she asked.
‘Quite a good evening. We had pizza and ice cream.’
‘Don't be irritating! You know what I mean. How did you get on with David?’
Jane knew she was going to have to think about this, but she hadn't done so yet. ‘I like him quite a lot. But there's something sad about him — I don't know what it is yet.’
‘You'll prise it out of him. I'm going to bed. Goodnight.’
Jane made her own cocoa and took it up to her bedroom. She thought about a couple of the calls she'd taken earlier, and wondered if merely listening had helped with anyone's problems. Then she made a decision. She jumped off the bed, took the still unopened envelope from the back of her stocking drawer and opened it. She read it, and once more her face paled. Then she reread it. For an hour she lay on the bed without bothering to get undressed. She knew she wasn't going to sleep.
Chapter Three
It was part of David's pain-relief work out of Theatre, and he had arranged for Jane to accompany him.
The Time is Now Page 3
