The Perfect Christmas

by Caroline Anderson

  His breath scorched her face, his eyes burning into hers, and with a ragged groan he took her mouth again in a kiss that threatened to rage out of control.

  I want him, she thought with the last coherent remnant of her mind. I want him…

  Julia forgot about Katie upstairs, forgot about Andrew, forgot about caution and all the reasons why it was such a bad idea. All she could think of was David and getting closer to him.

  And then he lifted his head and eased his hand away, and cradled her against his heaving chest, and as the heat cooled slightly, so common sense returned and she realised what she was doing.

  Mortified, she struggled out of his arms and stood up, hugging her arms around her waist. She would have given him anything—anything! What had happened to her?

  ‘Julia, don’t,’ he said softly. He had moved to stand behind her, and his hands cupped her shoulders and drew her back against him. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘I’m behaving like a desperate widow,’ she said in a high, cracked voice. ‘That is so awful.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re behaving like a woman. A real, live, hot-blooded woman. You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘Only because you stopped,’ she said, horrified at herself. ‘I was—’

  ‘What? Aroused? That’s not a sin.’

  She turned and forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Oh, yes, it is. I’ve got a daughter upstairs. I forgot that.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘We could have—oh, lord.’

  ‘No, we couldn’t. I wouldn’t have done that. Not with Katie in the house.’

  Julia moved out of his arms and went to the window, parting the curtains and staring out into the night. ‘I think you should go,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘Please. I didn’t mean this to happen.’

  ‘Julia, stop torturing yourself,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll go, but not because anything will happen if I stay. It won’t. I promise you. Not until you decide in the cold light of day that you want it to.’

  David drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, then he went out into the hall. She heard him putting on his coat and collecting his keys, then the soft click of the front door, and she watched through the gap in the curtains as he went down her path and away from her.

  She could still feel the heated throb of her body, the gnawing ache of frustration. There was only one thing that would take it away, and it was the one thing she couldn’t allow herself to have. She’d decided long ago that love was a luxury she couldn’t afford, and nothing had happened to change that.

  It was just that now, it seemed a harder sacrifice to make…

  So near, and yet so far.

  David drove around the block and pulled up a short distance down the road, and watched as the sitting-room light went out and Julia’s bedroom light came on a few moments later.

  He tried not to think about what she was doing, or what she’d look like without her clothes, but it was next to impossible.

  ‘You’re turning into a peeping Tom,’ he growled at himself, but he couldn’t drive away until that light was off and he knew she was settled for the night.

  It was about five minutes before she switched it off, leaving the house almost in darkness. He could just see the slight glow of a light through the front door, probably the landing light reflecting down the stairs, and after a minute or two he started the car and drove slowly home to the cottage.

  He made himself a cup of tea, but he didn’t want it. What he wanted was Julia, and he couldn’t have her.

  Not yet, and maybe not ever.

  He was frustrated, unhappy and totally at a loss to know how to proceed. He was falling for her, hard. He’d hoped when he’d met her that she was the right woman for him, and he knew now that she was, just as he knew the sun would rise in the east. He also knew that she was still running scared, and if he could have got his hands on that husband of hers, he would have killed him.

  Fortunately the bastard had saved him the effort, probably the only decent thing he’d done in his whole life.

  ‘Oh, Julia,’ he said softly in despair, and dropped his head back against the sofa. He could smell her perfume on his sweater, just a light touch of fragrance that seemed uniquely her, and it tormented his already tortured body.

  If only he could convince her that he was different, but he couldn’t. It would just take time, and he was going to have to tough it out.

  There was no way he was going to sleep, he realised. It wasn’t even worth trying, so he changed into his work clothes, got out the grouting compound and the squeegee and went into the bathroom. A bit of hard work might settle his libido, if nothing else—and once it was done he could start using the shower.

  Cold.

  Oh, rats.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘MUMMY, can we see the puppies again soon?’

  Julia’s heart sank. It was all she needed after her restless night, but Katie had talked about almost nothing else since the weekend, and she knew just how much the little girl would have loved a dog of her own.

  If their circumstances had been different, Julia would have loved one as well, but as it was, it just wouldn’t be fair, and anyway, Arthur would no doubt object violently.

  ‘Maybe we can go and see them in a day or two,’ she stalled, but Katie understood that for what it was and her optimistic little face fell.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me go back,’ she said, ‘and I’ve got to go to Granny and Grandpa Revell this weekend, so I can’t see them then, and after that it’s Christmas and the puppies are going—’

  ‘What about my morning off?’ Julia suggested, weakening. ‘You break up tomorrow, and on Friday I don’t have to be at work until twelve, so we could go before you go to Granny and Grandpa, if you like—if Mrs Armstrong doesn’t mind.’ And David will be at work, she thought, so it’ll be safe.

  ‘Ring her,’ Katie pleaded, but Julia shook her head. ‘Darling, it’s only twenty to seven in the morning, and we have to go now, anyway, or I’ll be late for work. I’ll ring her tonight.’

  ‘Promise,’ Katie said, and her mother promised.

  She dropped her at the childminder who looked after her before school, and then pulled up in the car park at the hospital just as David was getting out of his car.

  ‘Hi,’ he said soberly, and she looked at him, at the shadows round his eyes and the tiredness on his face, and thought he’d possibly had an even worse night than her.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, and tried for a smile.

  He didn’t smile back. Instead he came over to her and stood in silence for a moment, then rammed a hand through his hair. ‘Look, about last night—things got out of hand. I didn’t mean to push you. I know you wanted to take things slowly, and I rushed you. I’m sorry.’

  Her silly heart ached for him. ‘Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. That’s the problem. I just think—oh, I don’t know. It would be so easy to go too far, too fast, and I don’t want Katie hurt.’

  ‘I know. I realise that.’

  ‘She wants to see the puppies again,’ she told him. ‘I don’t suppose your mother would let us go over on Friday morning, would she? I don’t have to be in until late, and Katie’s on holiday from tomorrow.’

  He grinned a little lopsidedly. ‘I’m sure she’d love it. I was wondering, actually, if you want to go over there this afternoon, after I finish. I thought maybe Mum could babysit and we could go out for a drink and talk.’

  ‘Is there anything to talk about?’ she asked, trying not to let herself get excited at the thought.

  David’s smile was wry. ‘I don’t know. I hope so. I thought we should go somewhere safe and chaperoned, and just talk a bit. We only seem to see each other at work, or in front of Katie, or when we’re alone and then we get distracted. That’s making it difficult for us to do the normal getting-to-know-each-other things, and I’d like to find out more about you—find out what makes you tick.’r />
  ‘There’s not much to know,’ she said, thinking of what a narrow life she led, but he shook his head reprovingly.

  ‘Nonsense. Will you? Would Katie like that?’

  ‘Katie would be ecstatic,’ she said drily.

  ‘And you?’

  I’d be ecstatic, too, Julia thought, but she wasn’t telling him that! ‘I dare say I could tolerate it,’ she said with a smile, and he winked at her.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said approvingly.

  She stood there for a second, just enjoying the smile in his eyes, and then collected herself with a start.

  ‘What am I thinking about? I’ll be late—I can’t stand here chatting!’

  ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’

  ‘What—now you’ve made me late?’ She laughed, running towards the door. ‘What do you think?’

  He followed her, going into the kitchen and putting the kettle on while she took report from Angie Featherstone, and then he came into the office and handed her a mug of tea, settling himself down on the other side of the desk with his own mug and a lazy smile.

  ‘So, anything exciting happen in the night?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really. You’ve got something white on your eyebrow, by the way. It looks like paint.’

  He stood up and went over to the little mirror behind the door, and picked at the white mark.

  ‘Grout,’ he said in disgust, and she stifled a laugh.

  ‘Grout?’ she echoed, and he gave her a black look in the mirror.

  ‘You heard.’

  She couldn’t hold back the smile, but neither could he, and they ended up laughing together. It felt good, she thought in surprise. Natural.

  Wonderful, actually.

  ‘What time tonight?’ she asked, suddenly looking forward to their drink.

  ‘I should be able to get away about six. We shouldn’t be too late really, because of Katie, I suppose. Mum could feed her, and we could have a meal in the pub. Does that sound OK?’

  ‘It sounds good.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up after I finish, then. I must go. I’ve got some paperwork to do with my secretary this morning and I want to look through the notes again. Do I need to see anyone on the ward while I’m here?’

  Julia shook her head. ‘Not that I know of. Your registrar or SHO should be able to cope today. I’ll see if Mr Burrows is all right—he’s the only one I’m worried about. Do you think he should be talking to the oncologist now?’

  He nodded. ‘Probably. He’ll take over treatment as soon as Mr Burrows has healed from the surgery. I’ll ring him and have a word—perhaps we’ll talk to him together. Whatever. I’ll see you later. Ring me if you want me.’

  That again, she thought, but this time she smiled. They were going out together somewhere safe, where they could just talk, and perhaps that was just what they needed. A chance to get to know each other without being distracted by their hormones. And maybe, just maybe, she might learn to trust him.

  The phone rang, distracting her from her thoughts. It was A and E, to say that an elderly lady suffering from a perforated bowel had been admitted directly to Theatre, and to stand by to expect her.

  She put the phone down and was on her way to shuffle beds to make room when Nick Sarazin came onto the ward.

  ‘Ah, Julia,’ he said, and her heart sank. He was the last person she needed to see after bumping into him last night at the nativity play. Judging by the sparkle in his eyes, he wasn’t about to allow her to get away with it.

  ‘I gather you’ve got an admission from A and E,’ she said, trying to head him off, but he wouldn’t be deflected.

  ‘Yes, I’m going up now. I was just coming to warn you but someone’s done it. I’ll fit her in first, obviously.’ He cocked his head on one side and smiled at her inquisitively. ‘So, you and David—what’s the story?’

  ‘No story. He’s a friend,’ she said firmly, but one brow shot up into a disbelieving arch and he snorted under his breath.

  ‘Pull the other. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’

  ‘Really?’ she said lightly. ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘Then you must be more dead than alive,’ he retorted, but he seemed to relent, his tone gentling. ‘He’s a nice guy, Julia. You might do worse than to give him a chance.’

  ‘We know very little about him,’ she pointed out.

  ‘That’s rubbish. He went to a nativity play, for heaven’s sake, because your daughter asked him to. He comes in early to talk to patients, and stays late if necessary. He likes children and animals. He’s kind. What more could you want to know?’

  ‘How do you know he likes animals?’ she said sharply, and Nick laughed.

  ‘I don’t. I’m just guessing. Am I right?’

  She coloured and laughed despite herself. ‘Yes, dammit, you are.’

  ‘So there. I rest my case—and now I’m off to Theatre. See you later.’

  He left the ward and she went on her bed hunt, running her conversation with Nick through her mind. Had David really been unable to take his eyes off her? She’d thought he’d been watching the play, but she’d been so busy watching it herself she couldn’t be sure. And Nick was right—David was a kind person.

  Which was more than could ever have been said about Andrew!

  Still, it was a big step to take, and she’d need more than kindness to convince her to take it.

  Her bed-shuffling done, she went to see Mr Burrows and found him propped up on his pillows, writing something on a spiral-bound notepad. She perched on the edge of the bed and smiled at him.

  ‘Hi, there. How are you doing?’ she asked, and he smiled back tiredly and shrugged.

  ‘Oh, so-so. Just making lists of things to do. I don’t want to forget something important.’

  ‘I think you are forgetting something important,’ she said gently. ‘You’re forgetting to rest.’

  ‘I can’t rest—not until I’m sure I’ve done everything. I have to talk to my solicitor.’

  ‘The oncologist is going to be coming to see you soon about your treatment,’ she told him. ‘You need to rest and get well enough for that, and it will give you more time to do things afterwards. There’s no desperate rush.’

  He smiled fretfully at her. ‘I know, but I just feel useless lying here, and it takes my mind off it.’

  ‘Can I get you something to do? Maybe the occupational therapist has got something simple you could be doing in a day or two to keep your mind busy. Shall I ask her to come and see you?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And you are remembering to do your leg exercises every hour to keep your blood moving in your legs, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Well, mostly.’

  ‘Try and remember. Let me check your stockings are up properly,’ she said, and straightened the top of one that was threatening to roll down. All the patients wore graduated pressure stockings to prevent the blood pooling and clotting in their legs during and after surgery, and keeping them smooth was one of the banes of her life.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said, and listened to his abdomen with a stethoscope. ‘No bowel sounds yet, are there? Are you feeling any movement? Any wind?’

  ‘I can feel wind inside, but it’s not shifting.’

  ‘You’ll feel better when it does,’ she assured him. ‘Your wound’s healing nicely, anyway.’

  ‘I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies,’ he said with a fleeting smile, and she wondered what it was like to be handed a death sentence at fifty-eight.

  Grim.

  ‘I’ll get the OT lady to see you when she’s next on the ward—and in the meantime you rest, please.’

  He put the pad down and sighed. ‘I am tired, actually.’

  ‘And in pain. Don’t overdo it, it’s only your second day post-op and it was major surgery. I’ll get one of the health care assistants to come and give you a mouthwash, then I want you to settle down for a sleep, otherwise I’ll get Mr Armstrong to write you up for a sedative and we’ll
make sure you rest.’

  He smiled wearily, and she left him with his eyes shut and found someone to go and make him comfortable, because Nick’s lady from A and E had come back from Theatre and was needing her attention.

  She put Mrs Harrison into the other single room opposite the nursing station, next to Mr Burrows. That way she could keep an eye on her from the nursing station once she didn’t need such intensive attention, but in the meantime she’d need specialist nursing from someone designated to the task.

  In view of her general frailty, Julia decided to do it herself, and handed the running of the ward over to Sally, her staff nurse.

  There were lots of machines to monitor. The intravenous analgesic pump that delivered painkillers at a steady rate, the heart and oxygen monitors, the automatic blood pressure monitor—all had to be watched and checked to make sure they were working properly, and the results noted at regular intervals. Mrs Harrison’s temperature was high and needed a constant eye kept on it to make sure it didn’t rise.

  Then the wound drain, the urinary catheter and IV line all had to be watched for potential problems, and the patient had to be turned and repositioned at regular intervals even though she was on a low air loss bed to prevent pressure sores.

  She’d had a temporary colostomy to allow her bowel to recover, and the stoma had to be cared for very carefully until it had healed. There was a stoma nurse who would come and deal with it after the immediate post-op period, but for now it was Julia’s job.

  Nick came down at lunchtime after his list was finished to check on his patient, and he gave Julia a rundown on her operation.

  ‘She’s had diverticular disease for years, apparently, and she’d been feeling rough for a while but hadn’t said anything. A neighbour raised the alarm this morning and they found her collapsed in bed. She’s lucky to be alive, but she’s got raging peritonitis. We may lose her yet. I hope not. I flushed her out with antibiotic solution, and she’s got antibiotics IV, but she’s pretty weak.’