The steak. Oh, Lord, she’d forgotten all about the steak, and with a cry of alarm she raced to the kitchen, pulled the grill out of the oven, only to cough and splutter as a pall of black smoke belched out.
‘Cripes, what on earth was that before it was incinerated?’ Tom asked, throwing open the window.
‘Steak,’ she muttered. ‘I cooked steak for your dinner.’
He stared down at the charred remains. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not that hungry anyway. Soup will do me fine, and then I think I might have an early night. I’m bushed.’
Soup. He wanted soup when she’d been going to give him steak. He wanted sleep when she’d been going to put on the sexy nightdress she’d bought. He didn’t like her new hairstyle, and he hadn’t even noticed she was wearing the blouse he’d bought her for Christmas.
Well, he could have his soup, she thought, choking down the hot tears she could feel welling up into her eyes as she heard him returning to the sitting room. He could have his early night, too.
In fact, as far as she was concerned, he could have as many early nights from now on as he wanted.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘THERE you go, Jennifer—two happy, eighteen-week-old foetuses bouncing around in your tummy like mini-athletes,’ Tom commented, pointing to the shadowy shapes on the monitor. ‘Would you like to know what sex they are?’
Jennifer craned her neck to stare at the screen. ‘I’d rather it came as a surprise, if you don’t mind. They—the babies—they are all right, aren’t they?’
‘Perfect,’ he reassured her. ‘I just wish I knew why your blood pressure was so high. It was up last month when my wife tested you, and it’s still up today. What have you been doing?’
‘Nothing, Doctor, honestly,’ Jennifer insisted. ‘There’s no way I’d do anything to endanger my babies.’
He knew she wouldn’t—not after having previously undergone three unsuccessful IVF treatments—but something was causing her BP to climb, and he needed to know what.
‘Any headaches, visual disturbances, swollen ankles?’
Jennifer shook her head. She also looked worried. ‘Is something wrong? Doctor, I couldn’t bear it if I lost them. To have got this far…If I lost them now…’
Quickly Tom came round the examination trolley and clasped her hands in his. ‘Jennifer, I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure these babies go to full term.’
‘I know, but…’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘You’re not a magician, are you?’
‘No, but I’ve been known to work wonders,’ he declared, his lips curving. ‘In fact…’ He came to a halt as the department secretary appeared and discreetly put a piece of paper down on his desk. ‘Ah, good. This looks like your blood and urine test results. Maybe they’ll give us some answers.’
They didn’t. Jennifer’s sugar levels were as normal as they’d been when Helen had tested her a month ago, and so were her blood platelets.
‘Frankly, I don’t care how much my blood pressure goes up,’ Jennifer said when Tom told her. ‘All I’m bothered about is my babies.’
Tom wished it was as simple as that as he reached for his appointment book. The possibility of pre-eclampsia was what was worrying him, but he had no intention of sharing his concern with Jennifer. She’d been through enough already.
‘I’d like to see you again on the 13th of May.’
‘So soon? But—’
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Tom lied, seeing Jennifer’s surprise. ‘We doctors are just never happier than when we’re performing tests.’
‘The 13th—that’s a Friday, isn’t it?’ She laughed a little nervously. ‘Unlucky for some.’
‘Look, if you’re superstitious we could make it the day before.’
‘It’s all right—the Friday will be fine. Will I see you or Dr Helen?’
‘Me, unless I’m unexpectedly called away.’
Jennifer nodded, and Tom stared at her thoughtfully. ‘Would you prefer to see my wife? I can arrange it, if you like.’
‘Could you? It’s not that I don’t have every confidence in you, Dr Brooke,’ Jennifer continued in a rush. ‘It’s just that Dr Helen…She’s a woman, and a mother of twins herself, and—’
‘You’d like to see her if it’s at all possible. It’s OK, Jennifer,’ he said gently. ‘I’m not offended. I’ll check with my wife and see if she can book you in for the 13th, but if not you’ll see me, OK?’
Jennifer look relieved. ‘I saw Dr Helen in the corridor before I came in. She looks stunning with her new haircut, doesn’t she?’
Tom’s smile became fixed. ‘Yes. Yes, she does.’
‘It really changes her appearance. Makes her look totally different.’
It did, Tom thought as he showed Jennifer Norton out. It made her look like a stranger. A beautiful, unknown stranger. A beautiful, remote stranger, he amended with a sigh when he sat back down again at his desk. A stranger who was in a huff.
She had been in a huff ever since last week when she’d got her hair cut—and he couldn’t for the life of him think why. Dammit, he’d said she looked nice, and yet when he’d said it she’d looked as though she’d been about to burst into tears.
Perhaps ‘nice’ had been the wrong word to use, but he’d been so bowled over when he’d seen her. She’d looked so beautiful, so very, very beautiful. Maybe he should have told her that instead. Or then again perhaps not, considering what her reaction had been when Mark had said she looked gorgeous. Lord, but the look she’d given him had been positively glacial.
So if ‘nice’ wasn’t enough, and ‘gorgeous’ was too much, what the hell had she wanted him to say?
With a sigh he hit his intercom button. ‘Could you send in my next patient, please?’
‘That’s all of them, Dr Brooke,’ the department secretary replied.
He glanced at the small pile of files in his in-tray. ‘Are you sure, Doris? I’ve still got some folders here—’
‘They’re all no-shows, Doctor.’
He gritted his teeth. He hated it when that happened. If a woman had to cancel because of family illness or some other problem, it was understandable, but to just not bother to turn up…It was the height of selfishness, for one thing. Some other woman could have had the appointment, and their waiting list would have been that much shorter.
‘Looks like you’ll get a proper lunch today, Doctor,’ the secretary continued.
A proper lunch. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper lunch at work. A sandwich or a packet of crisps was all he usually managed, but today he could actually have a lunch. It sounded good. It sounded wonderful.
And if he was really lucky Helen might be free, too, he thought as he headed for the door. They could have lunch together. A nice leisurely lunch, just the two of them, without Emma and John bickering as they usually did at mealtimes. A nice leisurely lunch during which he and Helen could talk, and maybe he’d find out what he’d said or done that had so obviously upset her.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t,’ Helen said when he found her on the ward. ‘I promised Liz I’d help her with the inventory of the drugs cupboard.’
‘I’ll do it for you, Helen,’ Annie said, overhearing her. ‘You go and have a nice lunch with Tom.’
‘But I thought you were on your way down to the canteen yourself?’ Helen protested, and Annie shook her head.
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been putting on a bit of weight recently, so it’s time I started counting the calories.’
‘But—’
‘I believe the canteen’s serving lasagna today,’ Tom murmured, his eyes fixed on his wife. ‘Unfortunately I can’t promise you that anyone will sing “O sole mio”, or that there’ll be strawberries and chocolate mousse for pudding, but…’
Helen’s lips curved into the first genuine smile he’d seen all week. ‘Maybe that’s just as well,’ she said.
He shook his head, his eyes warm. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It would certainly
give everybody something to talk about, wouldn’t it?’
Annie was staring at them blankly, but Helen knew what he was talking about. He could tell from the faint blush of colour on her cheeks that she was remembering, as he did, the pensione off St Mark’s Square in Venice where they’d spent their honeymoon.
Every night, without fail, the owner had served them lasagna, followed by strawberries and chocolate mousse. Every night he’d serenaded them with the same song, as they’d sat, their hands entwined, oblivious to anything but each other. And every evening after dinner they’d gone up to their small bedroom with the squeaky bedstead and made love.
‘What do you say, Helen?’ he pressed softly. ‘Is it a date?’
‘Well, if Annie doesn’t mind helping Liz,’ she began, ‘I think—’
‘Ah, Tom, the very man I’ve been looking for,’ Gideon exclaimed as he strode towards them. ‘I’ve got the operating schedule worked out for next week so could you come and cast your eye over it, see if you’d like any alterations or amendments?’
So much for the lasagna, Tom thought wistfully. So much for the quiet lunch with Helen. Annie obviously thought so, too, because she said vexedly, ‘Gideon, does Tom really have to check the schedule right now? He and Helen were just going down to the canteen to have lunch.’
‘Sorry about that,’ her husband replied, ‘but I’m operating all afternoon, and if I don’t get the list in quickly we’ll end up fighting for theatre space with the other departments.’
There was nothing Tom could say. He knew their work always took priority, but he couldn’t help but think as he accompanied Gideon along to his consulting room that he’d have been a lot happier if it hadn’t been Annie, but Helen, who’d looked so disappointed at the cancelled lunch.
He’d thought—hoped—that reminding her of their honeymoon might make her forgive him for whatever he’d said or done, and it had seemed to be working until Gideon had arrived with his damn theatre schedule. The moment the list had been mentioned all the softness in her face had disappeared, and she’d walked away without a word.
Words weren’t the problem with the list Gideon had prepared. Concentrating on them was, and his abstraction must have been all too apparent because eventually Gideon put down his sheet of paper and said, ‘OK, what’s wrong?’
‘Wrong?’ Tom repeated blankly.
‘You’re a million miles away, and it’s not like you, so what’s the problem?’
For a second Tom chewed his lip, then sighed. ‘Do you understand women, Gideon?’
‘I don’t think any bloke ever does—not really,’ the consultant replied. ‘Oh, as a medical man I might know what bit goes where, what bit does what, but as to what makes them tick—I haven’t a clue.’
‘Neither have I,’ Tom said with feeling, and Gideon leant back in his seat, his expression thoughtful.
‘So Annie was right. I told her she was imagining it, but she said she thought you and Helen might have had a row.’
How did women do it? Tom wondered. He would have sworn only he could tell that Helen was being distinctly cool towards him, but Annie had sensed it, realised it.
‘It’s not so much that we’ve had a row,’ he began uncomfortably. ‘It’s just that she’s been in a huff with me ever since she got her hair cut last week.’
‘You told her you liked it, didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did,’ Tom protested defensively. ‘I distinctly remember saying it was different, and nice, and since then—major huff.’
Gideon frowned as he slipped the theatre schedule into a folder. ‘Maybe you should talk to Mark. He’s supposed to be the expert on women, isn’t he?’
He was, but there was no way Tom was going to ask Mark for advice. Talking to Gideon was one thing, but Mark…He didn’t know why, but he most definitely didn’t want to talk to Mark about Helen.
‘I expect it will work itself out,’ he said quickly. ‘Helen doesn’t usually stay in a huff long.’
‘Have you been paying her enough attention recently?’
A slow burn of heat crept up the back of Tom’s neck. Oh, hell, if Gideon was asking about his love life then he was out of here. Admitting that Helen was in a huff was one thing, but admitting that he hadn’t made love to his wife in ages was something else.
The consultant would want to know why, and the last thing he intended confessing was that either he was usually too tired or Helen was. Gideon would probably say that was a poor excuse, and he had a horrible suspicion he’d be right.
He tugged uncomfortably at his collar. ‘I…um…’
‘The only reason I’m asking is because Annie buys all these women’s magazines, and they’re always full of letters from women complaining about husbands and boyfriends not paying them enough attention. Maybe you need to take Helen out to dinner or the cinema or something?’
Tom let out his breath in a slow sigh of relief. Taking Helen out to dinner was something he was prepared to discuss, not least because it would give him the opportunity to point out how impossible it was at the moment.
‘You know what our shifts are like, Gideon. If I’m not at the hospital, Helen is, and if she’s not at the hospital, I am.’
‘How about buying her some flowers, then?’ Gideon suggested. ‘Annie loves getting little posies of pansies or freesias.’
‘Pansies don’t seem like much of a peace offering,’ Tom said uncertainly, and to his surprise the consultant flushed.
‘Well, it works for Annie, but you know your wife better than I do.’
Mark had said that, too, Tom remembered when Gideon headed for the operating theatre, but did he—did he really?
It had been Mark who’d pointed out how much she’d given up when the children were born. Mark who’d reminded him of what a very good surgeon Helen had been at med school. OK, so when he’d tackled her about it she’d said she’d never regretted her decision, but maybe she’d just said that to please him. Or, then again, maybe she’d been telling the truth and Mark had been as wrong as he was.
He swore under his breath. Why couldn’t women be as uncomplicated as men? Why couldn’t they come right out and say whatever was bugging them instead of going off in a huff?
A door clattered open behind him and he saw Doris elbowing her way out of her office, heavily weighed down with files.
‘Here, let me help you with those, Doris,’ he exclaimed, walking quickly towards her and relieving her of more than half of her bundle before she could protest. ‘Are you taking them up to Admin?’
‘They want them a.s.a.p. apparently,’ she said breathlessly, pushing back the lock of grey hair which had escaped from her bun. ‘Honestly, the amount of time this hospital spends on files and forms. I bet if we dumped half of them, not only would nobody not even notice but you and Mr Caldwell could probably fit in another ten operations a week.’
‘Probably,’ he agreed.
‘Did you manage to have a nice lunch, Dr Brooke?’ she continued as they walked together towards the lift.
‘I’m afraid something came up, and it was a packet of crisps again.’
She shook her head at him. ‘Honestly, you doctors. You spend all day lecturing your patients about the importance of a good diet, and yet you’re the worst offenders when it comes to food.’
She had a point, Tom thought wryly. She could also, he suddenly realised with a flash of inspiration, be the answer to his problem.
There was no way he could take Helen out to dinner, couldn’t even buy her flowers when he was working until late all week, but Doris could buy them. She could slip out to the florist this afternoon, buy Helen a nice bouquet and he’d give them to her tonight. Helen would be happy, he’d be happy and everything would be back to normal again.
The doors of the lift swung open as they reached it and he turned to Doris with what he hoped was his best and most appealing smile.
‘Doris, I need you to do me a favour.’
‘I still think it’s a shame you and
Tom didn’t get a chance to have lunch together.’
Helen tightened her grip on her stethoscope. If Annie had said that once this afternoon, she’d said it three times, and it was really beginning to get on her nerves.
‘It’s no big deal, Annie,’ she said tersely. ‘It’s not like we were going somewhere special like Stephano’s or anything.’
‘No, but—’
‘Mrs Scott’s husband will be here soon to collect her, Helen,’ Liz interrupted, ‘and I understand you want a word with her before she leaves?’
Helen nodded. Tom had taken out Rhona’s stitches yesterday, then given her the rundown on what she should and shouldn’t do after her tubal surgery, but he hadn’t felt a hundred per cent certain that the woman had taken it all in, so she’d offered to speak to her before she left.
‘Helen—’
‘You’ll have to excuse me, Annie.’
‘I just wanted to say that if you and Tom ever did want to go somewhere special,’ Annie said quickly, ‘maybe out for a meal or something, Gideon and I would be only too happy to babysit for you.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Helen said in surprise, ‘but I couldn’t possibly impose.’
‘You wouldn’t be imposing—we’d love to do it. Look, will you at least think about it?’ Annie urged as Helen opened her mouth to protest. ‘The offer’s there, and at least at somewhere like Stephano’s there wouldn’t be any chance of Gideon popping up in the middle of your meal wanting Tom to check out theatre schedules.’
There wouldn’t be, Helen thought with a smile as she made her way towards Rhona Scott’s bed, but unfortunately the likelihood of both her and Tom having the same evening off any time in the near future was as probable as Admin agreeing to them having an additional member of staff.
Still, Annie had meant her offer kindly.
Or because she can’t stand the atmosphere between you and Tom any longer, her mind pointed out, and her smile faded.
Annie obviously knew something was wrong. All these efforts she was making to get her and Tom alone together. Volunteering to help Liz with the inventory, offering to babysit the children. She must have been reading the same magazine article she had, and she wondered if she should tell Annie it was a waste of time.
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