But there was more than that. It was something much deeper, much more fundamental. Being worth it. Those words mattered so much. When her father had flitted from one job to the next, leaving the financial security to her mother, she’d seen how much his every decision hurt her mother. She’d seen her mother’s confidence slowly and surely ebb away. They’d both still loved him. He didn’t realise how his actions hurt the women in his life. But him, constantly choosing to move on to another job—none of which had been close to home—had always left Esther with a feeling of not being worth staying for.
She never talked about it. Never discussed it. Because then she would have to admit the rose-tinted memories she kept of her father weren’t perfect. That he’d hurt them both. But Harry’s words had struck a chord. Much deeper than she’d expected.
‘Because I think you are,’ Harry added. He’d been watching her for the last few seconds, as if he was giving her space to think.
Her phone beeped and she automatically pulled it from her bag—glad of the temporary distraction. She took a breath as she tried to straighten out her thoughts. ‘My mum, just let me reply.’
Something flashed across Harry’s face. An expression she hadn’t really seen before from him. Was that regret? She tapped the keys on her phone quickly and pressed Send, pushing the phone to her side.
Armand appeared a moment later and set two plates down. The aromas instantly drifted up around her. ‘Just as well you gave me that warning call,’ he said to Harry. ‘Enjoy!’ He waved his hand and darted back to the kitchen.
Esther laughed. ‘How on earth does he move so quickly?’ Her hands had automatically picked up her knife and fork. When something smelt this good she didn’t want to wait.
‘It’s one of his many talents,’ said Harry as he picked up his cutlery too. ‘Dig in. I’m hoping you’ll love it.’
And she did. All eight courses that Armand supplied. The food was delicious, the portion sizes just right. She stuck with the one glass of wine, sipping it slowly between courses.
There was something about having the place to themselves. Both of them seemed to relax more. The anxieties of earlier slipped away.
‘Have you settled in at the Queen Victoria?’ Esther asked as they finished their puddings.
‘I think so. We’ve agreed protocols between hospitals for transfers.’
‘So, you’ll be at the Queen Victoria more than before?’
He nodded. ‘I’m still just a visiting surgeon. It just gives me a base when I get referrals from other counties.’
‘Will you still do surgeries in other countries?’
He sighed. ‘Of course. I go where the babies are. Staying in random hotel rooms around the world is what I do best.’ He paused for a second. ‘But I have to admit the facilities that the Queen Victoria have for parents are far superior than any others I’ve come across.’
Esther nodded in agreement. They didn’t just have the parent beds in NICU. The Queen Victoria also had a series of apartments where whole families could stay if their children required long-term care. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d started questioning him so much about his job. Or why some of his answers disappointed her. It was ridiculous. Nothing had changed. He was a visiting surgeon. He would come. He would go. She’d known that right from the start. So why did that make her stomach twist and turn?
‘Don’t you wish you could be somewhere more permanent? Have your own team? Stay in your house instead of random hotel rooms?’
She watched as his shoulders tensed. The far-off expression on his face made her want to reach out and hug him.
‘Home? What does that even mean?’ He didn’t even try to hide the huskiness in his voice.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. Did Harry really not have a sense of home? How must that feel? How did a child grow up when they never had the sense of warmth and love that she’d experienced?
She clasped her hands in front of her. ‘Home is the place you can be yourself. The place you’re most comfortable, and the people you’re most comfortable with. Where you don’t need any masks, or faces. Where you can be exactly who you want to be.’
She was remembering the expression on Lady Brackenridge’s face. Remembering some of the things that she’d said—and wondered if she’d said too much.
She almost jumped as Harry stood up, the chair scraping on the floor behind her. He held out his hand towards her.
‘Esther, will you come home with me tonight?’
She held her breath. He didn’t need to say anything else out loud. He wasn’t just asking her back to Belgravia. He wasn’t just asking her back to the pristine town house that didn’t really look as if anyone lived there.
She knew exactly what he was asking. She licked her lips and swallowed. All the fears and uncertainties she’d had back at Eglinton Hall threatened to swamp her.
She was with Harry. The guy she’d initially hated, but now was slowly but surely stealing little parts of her heart. They’d only kissed up until this point. But she couldn’t ignore the attraction that flared in her body every time she glimpsed him. Every time she caught a waft of his aftershave. Every time his skin came into contact with hers.
For the last few hours she’d let herself be swamped by all the differences in wealth between them—but was that fair to Harry?
Neither of them had asked to be born into the life that they had. They were just two people whose lives had suddenly become intertwined.
She knew this wasn’t destined to last forever. Harry was only here temporarily. But did she really want to ignore the spark between them? She’d gotten so used to only concentrating on work that she’d forgotten what it actually felt like to have a real connection with another human being. Someone to share with. Someone to have fun with.
And now? Now, she had one question to answer.
They were a million miles apart. But she’d never felt so close to someone in her life. She didn’t need forever. She didn’t need her perfect match.
But the electricity in the air was telling her what she needed, right here, right now.
She reached out her hand towards his. ‘Yes,’ she said clearly.
And as his hand closed over hers and pulled her towards him, the moment couldn’t have been more perfect.
CHAPTER NINE
ALL OF A sudden he became part of the couple that the hospital had already believed existed.
It was amazing what quickly became normal.
He picked her up and took her back to his house. The immaculate town house became a little more rumpled.
A toothbrush appeared in the bathroom, along with shampoo, deodorant and a pink hairdryer.
Jeans were left over a chair in the bedroom. A small bag sat on the same chair filled with underwear.
Lemon marmalade and a certain brand of biscuits emerged in his kitchen cupboards. His long-ignored coffee machine took on a whole new lease of life. He’d lost the instruction manual ages ago, and could never remember all the functions that it took Esther less than five minutes to figure out.
He started to look for her constantly. In the canteen at work. In A&E. Every time he pushed open the doors to NICU—even when he knew she wasn’t on shift.
No matter how many times he tried to persuade her otherwise, she wouldn’t stop doing the occasional extra shift. She was proud, and needed the money for her family. It didn’t matter that Harry could write her a cheque in seconds. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t even miss the money from his bank account.
What mattered was that any conversation that went down that road could hurt Esther. Even when he bought her things—perfume, flowers, a book she wanted, a top she’d admired in a shop window—her first reaction was to bristle. Her second reaction was to tell him not to spend money on her.
For a woman who counted every penny and saved as much as she could, Esther was the
least materialistic person he’d ever encountered.
He’d met his fair share of females in the past who knew exactly how wealthy he was, and were more than happy to accept gifts, holidays, even cars. The most forthright had left a catalogue from an exclusive jeweller’s with a few items circled. The most expensive being an engagement ring that could take a baby’s eye out with its sharp edges.
Esther was the opposite. She didn’t want things. She didn’t place value on things. She was happier with a written note, a card, a chocolate bar hidden under her pillow.
He had a sneaking feeling she resented his wealth a little. But it was a conversation they’d never had. It was like she’d drawn a line under it, accepted it, but was determined not to let it affect what happened between them.
Part of him was glad no one could ever label Esther as a potential gold-digger—that was a particular tabloid favourite. But part of him was sorry that she would be reluctant to accept any financial help that he might want to offer her. He tried to play it carefully because he respected her, and their relationship was still developing.
She’d even met a few of his friends. Penelope had drifted back into the background after sending him a few playful texts saying how much she liked Esther and she wanted to know when to buy a hat. Most of the friends he spent time with now were fellow surgeons, and Esther could more than match any of them.
It had taken a little pushing to get an introduction to Carly and Chloe, two fellow midwives she trusted. There was a third member of the quartet, Isabella, but she was apparently in New Zealand right now. He’d liked them both. Chloe had a cute kid that he’d entertained for more than an hour while the girls gossiped, but he’d liked that. He liked that Esther hadn’t felt as if she constantly had to drag him into the conversation. She’d treated him like she expected him to be around for a long time, and this was something he should get used to. That sent a warm kind of glow around him that he hadn’t expected.
Once they’d reached home they’d chatted as he made omelettes. Her phone had buzzed again. ‘Your mum?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Shirley, the A&E manager with an offer of shifts next week.’
‘Don’t,’ he said, quicker than he meant to.
Her brow creased. ‘What do you mean don’t?’
It was too late to pull it back, but now was the time to say something that had been on his mind. ‘You work every single day. We hardly ever get to spend time together. You know—like a normal couple. How about we have a day off together—a night off together where one, or both of us, doesn’t have to get up at five in the morning to go into work.’ He gave a sad kind of smile. ‘Believe it or not, I actually like waking up next to you. How about we try and do it at least once a week?’
Her mouth was open, but she wasn’t actually speaking. He had no idea what was currently spinning around in her mind. All he knew was his stomach was churning in case he’d just played this entirely wrong.
But Esther’s eyes were on his, and the only thing he could see in them was warmth. ‘A night falling asleep in each other’s arms, and waking up the same way, could be kind of nice,’ she said.
He moved around the counter towards her. ‘It could,’ he agreed.
She slipped her arm around his waist and smartly pulled his phone from his back pocket. ‘Let me check your shifts. There’s no point in me turning down these if you’re already scheduled to work.’
He held his breath while she checked. She bit her bottom lip, then looked up at him. ‘Okay, next Saturday. We’ll have our first official day—and night—off together.’
He punched a fist into air. ‘At last.’
Esther wasn’t quite sure what came over her. She’d been so used to working seven days every week that the shock of taking one day off a week to spend with Harry felt like a permanent holiday.
She dined in some gorgeous restaurants; they attended the theatre together, went for long walks around some of the parks in London and enjoyed a private ride on the London Eye at night.
She tried hard to stop thinking about money all the time. That was her issue, not his.
But the best times were the ones where they just curled up on his sofa and watched TV. She was hardly spending any time in her own flat now. It seemed easier to stay at Harry’s. A few of her possessions had taken up residence in his town house—her favourite cookbook, a framed photo with her mum and most of her clothes. Life felt like a fairy tale.
She’d gotten used to the stares at work, and the quiet whisperings. Hospitals were always the same. Next week, somebody else would be hospital news and she and Harry would just fade into the background.
In the meantime she was happy living a life that felt like part of a fairy tale.
She rubbed her eyes as she headed to the cash machine. Night shifts were never her favourite time. Every cell in her body protested to the wrench of its natural flow. She slid her card and blinked as she saw her balance. That couldn’t be right.
She pressed a few other buttons. But the figure didn’t change.
Her mouth went dry. There was a standard amount of money she always sent her mother and that would still be covered, but for the last few months, she’d managed to send an extra few hundred pounds because of all the shifts she covered. Her mother had never asked her for more. But Esther liked to do it.
This month, the money wasn’t there. And she knew why.
Harry.
She leaned against the wall for a few minutes. She’d been turning down shifts on a regular basis. She still did one extra every week. But all of a sudden it didn’t seem like enough.
Her stomach growled loudly and she walked to the vending machine to buy a sandwich, and stopped. She could do without. It wasn’t like she’d fade away to nothing.
Her skin prickled. Her spending habits had changed in the last few weeks too. She’d stopped being so thrifty. She’d started heading to the canteen a few times a week instead of bagging her lunch. She didn’t want him to pay for everything while they were out—even though he tried to insist. But those casual purchases of popcorn and coffee were all adding up. None of this was Harry’s fault, but somehow, being around him had made her forget her priorities.
It was time she had a rethink.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, returning a text Shirley had sent earlier offering shifts in A&E. She said yes to them all.
Then she texted the agency too. There was still one day this month where she could squeeze in an extra shift.
Her eyes caught sight of a text from earlier. Harry. Wishing you were here with me tonight. See you in the morning. She smiled and stuck the phone back in her pocket. She’d need to talk to him at some point.
Harry would be fine. He’d understand.
* * *
He was already sleeping when his phone rang.
His eyes narrowed at the name on the screen. ‘Penelope?’
‘Hey, Harry, sorry if I’ve woken you.’ Her voice sounded a little shaky, not the self-assured way it normally was. Harry sat upright in bed.
‘What’s wrong?’
He heard her take a few slow breaths. ‘Penelope?’
‘I’m sorry, this was silly. I’ll be fine. I shouldn’t have called.’
All of his senses were on alert. ‘Penelope. Tell me what’s wrong.’
He suddenly realised that whilst her voice was low—as if she were whispering into the phone—there was also a slight echo around it. ‘Where are you?’
She named a well-known venue in London. ‘I came here with Lance Derby.’
Harry rolled his eyes. Lance wasn’t his favourite. A banker who was arrogant and opinionated. ‘And?’
‘He’s had a bit too much to drink—we both have, really—and...’
Her voice tailed off. Harry swung his legs out of bed. ‘And what?’
‘He’s been more th
an a bit forward with me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Harry was already on his feet, looking for his clothes.
Penelope let out a noise that sounded like a sob.
Her voice cracked. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I feel like some kind of teenager. I shouldn’t be calling you.’
‘Whereabouts are you at the club?’ he asked as he pulled his T-shirt over his head.
‘In the bathroom,’ came the whisper.
He stopped. ‘You’re in the bathroom?’
‘It’s the only place I feel safe,’ she admitted. ‘I know he’s waiting outside the door. I’ve heard him shouting at a few people. He wants to take me home, and I just don’t want to go back out there. Not when he’s drunk like this. I... I’m not sure what he thinks taking me home means.’
Harry’s mind had already been made up a few minutes ago. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
There was an audible breath of relief, then Penelope added, ‘But, Harry, I’m not sure they’ll let you in. It was an invite-only event tonight.’
Something clicked in Harry’s brain. He walked to his dresser and rummaged through the mail lying on top. ‘I think I had one of those. Give me a sec.’ He pulled an envelope out from the stack. ‘Yes, I’ve got it.’
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and realised that joggers and a T-shirt wouldn’t gain him entry to the exclusive members club. ‘Okay, don’t move. I’m changing and I’ll be with you shortly. If you feel safe in the ladies’, then stay there. Don’t move.’
He changed into a suit, shirt and tie in record time and jumped into his car. Thankfully the streets of London were much quieter at this time of night and it didn’t take him long to reach the venue.
He waved his invitation and stepped inside. Sure enough, Lance Derby was pacing outside the ladies’ bathrooms. Harry did his best not to grit his teeth but the sensations were pretty much overwhelming. Lance wasn’t just drunk, he was very drunk, loud and obnoxious.
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