by Annie O'Neil
And head back to...where, exactly? She had nowhere else to go to. And she’d signed a contract.
‘What’s wrong with it?’
Cooper looked genuinely perplexed. As if it hadn’t even occurred to him she’d refuse or...and this was being generous...as if he cared what she thought. He gave her a scan that, once again, sent a stream of shivers down her spine.
‘It looks like it’ll fit.’
She hid her discomfort with a huff. ‘I don’t want to wear the elf costume, Mr Kringle.’
‘That’s Dr Kringle to you.’
Though there was a smile playing upon his lips, something flashed bright in his sapphire-blue eyes. A flare of will, daring her to contest him. Challenging her for trying to strip the joy from something he obviously held dear.
Why couldn’t he hold something else dear? Like...erm...pre-guessing what someone’s temperature was, or always having a medical run-bag that was immaculately kitted out. But, no. She got a hot doctor whose passion was doing house calls dressed as Santa Claus.
A bit weird for someone the islanders were taking bets on about leaving... He seemed to be embracing Bourtree Castle’s Christmas cheer as if he was going to stay here for ever. No matter what the odds were. So why couldn’t she do the same? Be happy in the here and now?
Because she was completely miserable, that was why! She’d just been dumped. The life she’d thought she was living had turned out to be a mirage. A tinsel-laced, fairy-lit, holly-decked mirage. With mistletoe. Far too much mistletoe.
Cooper jiggled the elf costume, its candy-striped arms waving as they caught the sea breeze.
A despairing wail formed deep within her. She wasn’t a killjoy. Honestly. She’d used to love Christmas as much as this guy seemed to. More, even! Just not this year.
Then she thought of the patients they’d be heading out to see as soon as this costume situation was settled. Housebound, mostly. Or very, very ill. Vulnerable. She could do it for them... She should do it for them. Wasn’t helping people why she’d become a nurse in the first place?
Her resistance softened. Okay, fine. But only during business hours.
‘I will wear the hat,’ she acquiesced primly. ‘But that’s it.’
Cooper was adjusting his own hat and repositioning his big black belt round what had to be a pillow. It definitely wasn’t his own belly. Not with that much movement.
When their eyes met again, she could’ve sworn he winked. Not a sexy wink. More like a complicit thank you wink. One that said he got it. He understood that her protest went beyond the realms of not wanting to look silly. It was strangely intimate. It made her feel vulnerable and safe all at the same time. As if she had, for the first time in her life, been properly seen.
‘Right. Just a quick briefing,’ he said, as if the moment hadn’t happened. ‘I’ll be going out with you for the next week or so. Introducing you to folk, showing you how things work round here.’
‘I can’t imagine they’re all that different from how they work anywhere else,’ she griped.
She’d been hoping for some alone time. Precious minutes in between patients to howl lovelorn songs in the car with tears pouring down her cheeks. Or feisty ‘I Will Survive’-type power ballads. Disliking this too-attractive-for-his-own-good doctor was becoming easier by the second. She glared at him. She bet he’d tune his radio to whatever channel played twenty-four-hour Christmas songs.
‘Island folk don’t take to change that easily,’ he said, by way of an explanation.
‘Well, nor do I, but sometimes you have to go with the flow, don’t you?’ Her thumb automatically moved to her bare ring finger. She caught Cooper’s eyes snag on the movement. She scrambled to divert his attention. ‘So...is this your year-round uniform?’
He cocked his chin to the side and smiled, one of his teeth catching on his full lower lip as he considered his response. When he finally answered, his voice was honest, straightforward, and annoyingly lovely to listen to.
‘First time I’ve worn one. Nor am I a year-round resident.’
‘Then why all the fuss? The costume, the introductions?’
Light glimmered then darkened in his eyes. Another shared moment she couldn’t entirely put her finger on. It felt as if he was trying to tell her he was battling his own demons.
So...the space she was craving so much—he needed some, too.
‘Here.’ He deftly changed the topic, reached out and easily lifted one of her heavy duffel bags from the ground where she’d dropped them. ‘I’ll take this.’
He glanced at the bag. It was huge. Contained pretty much everything she owned.
‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were running away from home.’
Their eyes met and meshed. Oh, sugar. He’d seen everything she’d been trying to hide. Caught a glimpse of the pain and grief she was trying to outrun. Something shifted in her chest. This locum posting was either going to be much harder than she’d anticipated or...because of whatever it was that had just passed between the pair of them...healing.
It was a powerful feeling. It made her want to reel back her lightning-fast assessment of ‘Dr Kringle’ and his love of Christmas costumes.
She rearranged her scarf, using the task to mask the fact she was actually checking him out as he did a quick flick through his phone’s text messages. Not that she fancied him or anything. Obviously. Even so, she’d have to be blind not to notice he wasn’t hard on the eye. If you liked tall, sparkly blue-eyed, ebony-haired men who dressed as Santa Claus. Which she didn’t.
Because if she’d learned anything the hard way, it was that if something came wrapped up in a too-good-to-be-true package it was too good to be true.
Why did they have to be wrapped in Christmas cheer? Couldn’t they just wear red scrubs, or their normal uniforms and spread joy the old-fashioned way? A smile, a thorough medical examination and a nice cup of tea?
Not that she’d done many house calls lately. Rafael had convinced her to start taking shifts at an elite paediatrics hospital. He’d said it gave the pair of them a ‘better profile’. Silly her for thinking caring for people under any circumstances gave a good impression. What she did as a district nurse might not be showy, but it certainly improved the lives of those who received her visits.
‘Eh, Coop!’
A huge man shouldering a neon pink duffel bag crossed to them and whacked Cooper on the back. Cooper held his ground. Blimey. He was made of stern stuff. Audrey would’ve gone hurtling to the floor with the amount of welly that had backed that friendly thwack.
‘Who’s this, then?’
Cooper shifted his stance, almost as if he was body-blocking the rugby player. Strangely protective for someone she’d just met and point-blank refused to play Holly Jolly Christmas with.
‘Robbie Stuart,’ he said, turning to her as he did so, ‘meet our locum district nurse, Audrey...’
‘Walsh,’ she filled in. It would’ve been Audrey de Leon in twenty-three days and five hours’ time, but...nope. ‘Plain old Audrey Walsh.’
Cooper’s eyes narrowed, as if he was clocking up another titbit of information about her. Hates elf costumes. Running away from her life and thinks her name is boring.
She popped on a smile. ‘Shall we go and see some patients?’
‘Good idea. Robbie...’ Cooper gave him a goodbye nod.
‘You should come down to the Puffin tonight,’ Robbie called after them. ‘A whole bunch of us’ll be meeting up after the Nativity rehearsal for a wee drink. Folk’ll be dying to meet you—see if they can rope you into helping now that— Sorry, Coop.’
Audrey threw a questioning look in Cooper’s direction.
‘The Nativity’s an annual island tradition,’ he explained. ‘Don’t go if Christmas isn’t your thing. As for the “wee drink” part—the whole of Bourtree will most likely be there,
especially once news has travelled that you’ve arrived. New arrivals are always big news here on Bourtree.’
‘A bit like the bets on whether you’re going to stay or not?’
The moment she said it, she knew she’d made a mistake. His blue eyes darkened and a barely disguised flinch whipped the smile from his lips.
Why had she stuck her foot in it right when they’d seemed to be developing the tiniest sliver of camaraderie?
‘Sorry. I— It’s none of my business.’
‘No, no.’ Cooper shook his head, gave Robbie a half-wave and began heading towards the car without so much as an attempt to meet her apologetic face. ‘Everything’s fair game on Bourtree. You’ll learn that soon enough, too.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
He gave a shrug that all but screamed, That’s life, kid. Get used to it.
He did have a point. Though she’d already been through all her ex’s faults with a fine-tooth comb, she was pretty certain she had some home truths that needed examining. Not to mention the warning signs in their relationship that she should’ve heeded. Like the whole ‘no personal possessions around the flat’ thing. As if they lived in a show home and making it appear remotely homely would weaken their stance as a power couple.
If this was only easing open the can of worms labelled Warning Signs...she was scared to pull the lid entirely open.
Cooper opened the back of a brightly marked medical four-by-four parked further up the dock, slung her bag on top of a gurney, then the smaller tote that she’d been carrying behind it. He closed the doors and turned to her, his eyes sparking. Maybe from some sort of unspent fury or...maybe it was the lights from the Christmas tree.
It was hard to tell. Same as her, she supposed. Two people treading the fine line between contentedness and fury that life hadn’t turned out the way they’d planned. When he spoke, she knew straight away that what she’d seen had come from somewhere dark.
‘Some people try to outrun their demons. Some run straight into their arms. I meet my challenges head-on. Now, let’s go see some patients.’
* * *
‘I’m sorry to be rushing out the door like this,’ the young mum said. ‘I’ve got to pick up the kiddies from school and get their tea on at home. I’ll come back when Deacon’s home from work and can look after the wee ones, but I’ll have to shoot off again for the Nativity rehearsal.’
‘Do you have a good role?’ Audrey asked.
The first smile they’d seen from Mhairi since they’d arrived surfaced. ‘Brilliant role. I’m Frigg.’
Audrey looked at Cooper. Frigg? Not one of the usual cast of characters she was used to in a Nativity.
He gave a little I’ll tell you later shake of the head, then addressed Mhairi—‘An auld Scots name pronounced Vah-ree,’ Cooper had explained as they’d waited for her to answer the door.
He told her that they’d look after her father and would ring her with any updates.
Mhairi threw an anxious look back towards her father’s bedroom, then tugged her hand through her thick batch of wayward curls. ‘It’s difficult taking you seriously, Coop.’
‘Why? I’m still me beneath all this.’
He lifted his Santa hat off his head as if to prove it. A thick, wavy black head of hair that reached his collar was revealed. If anything, the ‘reveal’ seemed to make him a little bit less mortal and Audrey a bit more wary. Mhairi, too, from the dubious sound she was making.
‘I suppose so. It’s just that...well...we’re so used to Dr Anstruther or Noreen coming out. I mean, they’re just a bit more familiar with everything...so I don’t worry so much when I have to go.’
* * *
Cooper nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. He’d encountered this attitude more than once over the past week. Sure, everyone knew he was an A&E doctor over on the mainland, but no one had actually seen him in scrubs. Performing a tracheotomy. Calling for a crash cart when someone flat-lined, only to bring them back to life before it arrived.
No. They’d seen him hauled out of fights in the school yard. Racing a motorcycle he had been too young to ride. Playing truant. And because of that he’d have to earn their trust, centimetre by painful centimetre. It was a job that could take years. Years of patience he wasn’t sure he had the reserves for. But today he had it. And that was what counted.
‘Mhairi, I know you’re worried, but we will look after your dad to the best of our abilities. I am still a doctor underneath all this Santa gear. And Audrey here is one of the finest nurses London has to offer. If the two of us can’t figure out how to help him, we’ll get Doc Anstruther out to have a look after surgery—all right?’
* * *
Despite the gravity of the situation, and Mhairi’s obvious concern for her father, Audrey felt a little tug of pride that Cooper was already assuring one of the islanders that they could trust her. It wasn’t as if he’d seen anything beyond her CV. Maybe all that prickly interaction down at the docks had been a case of miscommunication. A false start.
Mhairi tugged on the coat she’d taken off the back of a wooden chair. ‘I’d stay if I could, but I’m already running late.’ She made a frustrated sound. ‘He’s not at all his usual self,’ she continued, scooping up a pair of car keys. ‘I’ve never known him to not get out of bed. That’s why I rang. I always come by for a cuppa and some shortbread before I pick up the little ones, and he’s usually pottering about the place, fussing about with whatever project he’s been working on, but he’s still in bed. Said he’s not been out since yesterday. Blinds drawn...everything.’
Cooper helped her pull her jacket into place. A gentlemanly gesture he performed as if it had been drilled into him from an early age.
‘Bed might be the best place for him if he’s feeling poorly, Mhairi. If we think he needs to be in hospital we’ll get him there.’ He named a premier hospital in Glasgow and said he had some contacts there who would be sure to give him the best care if it was anything serious.
Mhairi froze, hands gripping her collar. ‘But—that’s over on the mainland.’
There was the aversion to change Cooper had mentioned, thought Audrey.
‘Aye, but there’ll be folk there to look after him round the clock. It’ll take some of the pressure off you. It’s a good hospital.’
‘Is it the one where you work?’ Mhairi asked.
‘I know it well and can recommend it.’
Interesting, Audrey thought. That wasn’t really an answer.
Mhairi shook her head and dropped her keys back onto the table. ‘I don’t like the idea of it. Especially over Christmas. The folk there won’t know him. And he’d hate it, being away from us and the grandkids. We’re all he has.’
The sentiment spoke to Audrey loud and clear. Family. It was something she’d always ached for—especially as a little girl, growing up in the shadow of her father’s grief over their shared loss of her mother.
‘You know what it’s like to have to fend for yourself, Coop,’ Mhairi said. ‘It’s not nice.’
Cooper gave his jaw a scrub and said nothing, but an electric tension Audrey couldn’t put her finger on crackled between the two.
‘Sorry, Cooper...’ Mhairi put up her hands in apology, then dropped them. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that.’
‘I know.’
An awkward silence hummed between them as he picked up her car keys and handed them to her, effectively ending the exchange.
Audrey jumped in, feeling a protective impulse to cover for Cooper’s silence. Whatever was going on with him, he wasn’t comfortable talking about it, and that was definitely something she could relate to.
‘No one’s going anywhere right now. Our job is to try and keep your father out of hospital. Why don’t you let us get on with our examination and we’ll let you know as soon as possible how things stand?’
‘H
ow long will you be here?’ Mhairi’s eyes darted between Cooper and Audrey.
‘Five weeks,’ Audrey said.
‘No,’ Cooper corrected with a soft smile. ‘She means today.’
Ah. In that case...
Audrey gave Cooper a This is your call look. She knew they had other patients to see. Back in London she would’ve raced from patient to patient as best she could, willing there to be more hours in the day, but perhaps things worked differently here. The part of her that needed to know compassion still existed hoped that Cooper would say they’d stay as long as necessary—without, of course, compromising any other patient’s health.
‘Your father won’t be left on his own if we have any critical concerns,’ Cooper said solidly.
Another piece of Audrey’s heart softened for him. A dangerously slippery slope if she didn’t watch herself.
‘Promise?’
Audrey didn’t miss the look that passed between them when Cooper promised. It was as if he was staking his personal reputation on the commitment. No patient left unattended, no matter what. It was a big promise to make. Particularly when they had other patients to see.
‘You’d better get on away down the road. School’ll be over soon.’
Mhairi opened the kitchen door, took a step out, then turned back. ‘You know, on second thought, I think I’ll bring the little ones back here—unless you think he’s got something infectious. They can have their tea in front of the telly as a special treat, and that way I can keep an eye on Dad.’
Cooper gave her a nod. ‘Fair enough. We’ll call you.’
The way he said it put an end to the matter, but in a kind way. Mhairi’s father would get the care he needed. End of discussion.
When she’d left, he turned around and nodded towards the bedroom door. ‘Right then, Audrey. Let’s see what you’re made of.’
* * *
A few minutes later, after running through the elderly gentleman’s medical history and conducting a few preliminary checks, Cooper found his concerns were as high as his daughter’s had been. Audrey’s too, if her furrowed brow was anything to go by.
