by Jill Barry
Andrea wondered if Keir realised her mother was one of the hopefuls on the list. All she knew was that Rosemary’s GP approved and had assured her she’d be recommending her patient. She riffled in her make up bag. Maybe today was a bright lipstick day. Would she put her hair up or leave it loose? Up and she’d look the complete career professional. Down and she’d seem to play the femininity card among the grey suits. Oh but it was hard being a woman sometimes. Maybe she was trying too hard. Would anyone care, even?
***
Keir rode the elevator to the third floor of the university building. Were those two young women ascending with him students or were they lecturers? Or was it just that he was getting old? They seemed confident, sassy in their eye-catching outfits. He stood, staring ahead, holding his briefcase in his right hand, feeling about one hundred years old.
Richard was waiting to greet him as the lift doors opened.
“I thought we’d use a small meeting room,” he said as they walked along the corridor. “Impersonal surroundings and all that.” He glanced sideways. “I keep meaning to ask, do you always dress so smartly for work?”
“People expect to see me wearing a suit,” said Keir. “Unless I’m in scrubs of course.”
“You and Andrea put me to shame, today,” said the Prof, slowing down. “Here we are.” He pushed the door fully open. Keir strode in ahead of him.
Andrea sat at the table, her papers spread before her. She looked up and smiled. Keir stopped and stared.
She was wearing her hair loose as she had that first time they met. He wanted to walk towards her and take her in his arms … stroke those dark, glossy strands, trail his fingers in their scented depths. How did he know her hair would be fragrant? He just did. Somehow he retained his composure.
“Andrea. Good to see you again.” He dumped his briefcase at the end of the table furthest away from her. “Before I forget, Lyn’s prepared a folder for you. You’ll find all the conference details in it. No, please don’t get up.”
He withdrew the plastic wallet and walked towards her. She looked stunning. But then he wouldn’t care if she’d turned up in a pair of gardening trousers and a sweatshirt, rivalling the Prof for informality. Keir knew a light bulb moment when it happened and he knew he was in for the long run. These feelings did not in any way relate to the forthcoming drug trial. But this wasn’t the time to indulge in forbidden fantasies.
“Thank you,” said Andrea. “As a matter of interest, how many of these things have you spoken at, Keir?”
“One or two.” He pulled a wry face.
She narrowed her eyes. “Which probably means one or two dozen? Well, I’ll try hard not to let the side down.”
“Don’t listen to her, Keir,” said Richard. “Andrea’s a natural speaker. And she’s much easier on the eye than you are.”
“I’ll forget you said that, Prof,” said Andrea, pretending to look stern. “How about we make you do some role-play? You can announce us.”
Keir nodded. “That’s an excellent idea, Dr Palmer. I thought I’d give a brief introduction before inviting you to address the delegates.”
Swiftly she moved into her role. “Maybe I could call for questions afterwards? You two are sure to have questions,” she teased. “Then I’ll hand over to you again, Dr Harrison?”
“Sounds good to me.” Keir moved round to her side of the table.
As the Prof began with a brief snapshot of Andrea’s career to date, Keir felt a huge sense of relief. His professional persona was well in charge. He looked forward to hearing what Andrea had to say within the time allotted. Richard began on Keir’s own biog then seated himself as far away from the table as possible.
Keir noticed how Andrea’s style made her easy to engage with. Her sentences weren’t too long and she didn’t fidget, thus not distracting a potential audience. This first run was taking place without the techie stuff, as Richard had called it. They’d match the photos, diagrams and colourful charts to their dialogue as soon as everything was prepared. In a couple of weeks’ time, they’d be on their way.
As Keir wound up his speech, Richard got to his feet to give the two of them a round of applause. “Well done,” he said. “You both sounded not only confident but also passionate about your research. We must get the computerised stuff together as soon as possible. Maybe invite a few faculty members to boost the audience next time?”
Keir looked at his watch. “Before I leave, could I run through the patient list for the trial? You know I’d like to get things up and running before we leave for Montreal?”
“I have an appointment at four,’ said Richard. ‘How about you, Andrea?’
“I’m good. But that looks like a substantial list, Keir.’
“Not everyone on it is suitable. I’d like to explain my reason for turning down a candidate. Tomorrow I’ll get the names of the successful patients emailed to you both. Is that OK?’
He saw Andrea glance at Richard and wondered whether to say something about her mother’s status. He desperately wanted to put her mind at rest but feared pushing boundaries firmly set in place. There was one small way he could lessen the tension for her, though.
“When I was at school,” he said. ‘I hated having a surname beginning with the letter H. Nearly all the other pupils came after me. Laugh at me if you will, but every time I have to complete an alphabetic list, I find myself beginning with the letter Z. So, the first patient I find unsuitable for this purpose is Mrs Zetterman.’
Keir worked steadily through the names. Sometimes the others queried a decision, sometimes not. When he came to the surname Thomas, he noticed Andrea push a strand of hair behind one ear and shift slightly in her seat.
“The next one I have to turn down is John Tebbit.’ He paused for a beat. ‘Sadly, I think his physical health isn’t robust enough to allow him.’ He smiled at Andrea. “Whereas Mrs Rosemary Tarrant fits the criteria to perfection. We scientists can tune into human nature too, Dr Palmer.”
***
Unaware her daughter and a consultant she’d yet to meet were involved in such a momentous decision, Rosemary sat at her kitchen table, munching a crisp apple while she listened to a local radio station.
“I really need a fanfare of trumpets, now, listeners. Because tomorrow’s the day the Mayor declares the new garden open at Hartnett General Hospital,” said the presenter. “Thanks to a brilliant team of loyal supporters, digging and planting, this garden will provide a haven of colour and scents. There’s a special section for the visually impaired and I’m delighted to say one of the Friends of Hartnett General has popped in to tell us a bit more. So if you can’t get along there to cheer them on tomorrow, keep listening and you’ll hear a bit more about this scheme and how to become involved.”
Rosemary sat back in her chair. She loved gardening. It sounded like they needed people to help. Maybe she should go along now. No time like the present. She abandoned her half-eaten apple, stood up and went to find a carrier bag. She’d take her trowel and gardening gloves from the shed. She could walk through the park and follow the signs to the hospital.
Within minutes, the elderly woman was trotting along the road, passing Lizzie Dean’s house without a second glance. Inside, Lizzie was crawling around her loft, moving things to make room for stuff she wanted to store before her new tenants moved in. She glanced at her watch. She’d told Rosemary she’d call round at five o’clock, bringing freshly baked scones for tea. There was plenty of time.
Rosemary walked purposefully through the park. She wore her floppy gardening hat with a silk poppy attached to the brim although the day was dull and a wee bit chilly. No matter. She’d soon warm up when she started work. She arrived at the far gates and approached the pedestrian crossing just as the little green man sign appeared. A couple of minutes later, she saw the hospital looming in the distance.
***
Keir was satisfied with the way the conference preparation had gone. He wasn’t quite so pleased with his own feeli
ngs about Andrea. Sitting within touching distance of her had been pure hell. When she stood to present her findings, he’d caught a drift of her scent, relishing its fresh, meadow-like fragrance. He hated those powerful brass band perfumes so many women seemed to use. Andrea’s scent seemed to suit its wearer’s personality.
He groaned as he walked along the corridor towards the rear of the university building where he’d left his car. This kind of thinking was off limits. What kind of a man was he? What would come next? Writing love poems, maybe? He really needed to get a grip.
Keir pushed through the swing doors and strode towards his vehicle, intent on returning to his office and catching up with a bunch of referrals Lyn pointedly kept moving to the top of the pile in his in tray. The traffic was light for once and soon he was reversing into his personal parking space at the hospital. Occasionally, a colleague in a tearing hurry might sneak into it but luckily not this time.
He grabbed his briefcase, zapped his key and heard the locking system operate. Movement in the newly created garden alongside the car park caught his attention. Keir had been following the steady horticultural progress over many months. Tomorrow the Mayor was coming to open it. There’d been emails arriving and eye-catching posters and paper sunflowers pinned to notice boards proclaiming the date and Keir had been pleased to contribute towards a bench.
He wondered why a woman police officer stood in the middle of the garden. She wasn’t alone. A small group of people clustered around her. Keir hesitated. Had he got the date wrong? What was going on? There was nobody there wearing a chain of office but he noticed an elderly woman who seemed very distressed. His diagnostic antennae tuned. The female police officer took hold of the woman’s arm and someone who looked like a security officer stood at her other side. The guy was speaking into whatever sort of communication gadget they used these days.
Before Keir could take a step forward, a police car, lights flashing, turned into the car park and drove straight towards him. The driver parked his distinctive vehicle, blocking Keir in then snapped his seatbelt loose and jumped out to face him.
“Excuse me Sir. Is this your car?”
Keir nodded. “It’s all right, Officer. I’ve only just arrived. It looks like I might be of assistance here.”
“Could I ask who you are, please?” The second officer posed the question while his colleague strode straight up the ramp accessing the new garden.
Keir felt in his pocket and produced his name badge. “Sorry. Don’t really like wearing this thing. I can barely ride in the lift without someone peering at it and asking my advice.”
The policeman nodded. “I understand, Sir. You say you’ve just arrived. So you don’t know anything about what’s going on over there?”
“No,” said Keir. ‘But seeing an elderly person looking so distressed, I gather something’s happened to cause all this attention and nobody knows quite how to handle her. Is that right, Officer?” Could this young constable actually be any older than fourteen?
“That’s about it, I reckon,” said the policeman cheerfully. “After you, Dr Harrison.”
Keir took the nearest walkway, approaching the centre of the garden so he knew the elderly woman would have him in her sights. He walked past lavender bushes and shrubs lovingly planted and about to burgeon. Everything was in pristine order. But at the central circular flowerbed, earth was scattered on the tiles and several bright pink begonias in plastic containers lay higgledy-piggledy as though suddenly abandoned.
The female officer looked at him with a certain amount of relief. Her colleagues hovered at a distance. After all, they didn’t need their riot shields. But Keir ignored everyone except the woman in the pale blue twin set. Under a disreputable-looking hat, her face was streaked with tears and she brandished a shiny, red trowel. Keir imagined this might be viewed as a weapon for purposes of preparing a statement. Well, just let them try pulling that one.
“Hello,” he said, looking straight at the woman. “My name’s Keir and I work here. Do you work here too?”
Her face brightened. “I’m only trying to help. They said on the radio they needed people to help. So I came at once.”
“This lady removed these plants from the florists across the way,” murmured the WPC. “Barged into the shop and out again. Then she started digging.”
“Thank you Officer, I get the picture.” He turned back to the woman. “So, Margaret, why don’t we sit down on that bench a minute?”
“My name’s not Margaret.” She raised her chin. “I’m Mrs Rosemary Tarrant.”
Keir’s heart did a double flip in his chest as he recognised her surname. So this was where Andrea got those fabulous eyes. “Right,” he said. “Well, Mrs Tarrant, I happen to think, with a pretty name like yours, you must know a lot about gardening. Do you have a garden of your own?”
As the WPC walked the perpetrator to the seat, Keir took a ten pound note from his wallet and handed it to the baby-faced police officer. “Please give this to the florist with my apologies,” he said. “Explain this lady is a patient of Dr Harrison from Hartnett General and that I take full responsibility.”
He squatted in front of Rosemary. “Mrs Tarrant, can you talk me through this planting business? We should get your lovely gift in the ground.” He held out an immaculately manicured hand for the trowel.
“How kind of you to help,” she said, surrendering her weapon of mass destruction. “I’m not so good at kneeling these days.”
The WPC’s jaw dropped as the consultant moved towards the flowerbed and dipped the trowel into the soil. The security man’s face was one broad grin. The remaining police officer was on his radio while his partner went off to make peace with the florist.
With the begonias set in place, Keir stood up and rubbed his hands together. “Now, Mrs Tarrant,” he said. “How’s that? Do you think I’ve got green fingers?’
“I do. My word, you’re lovely and tall. Greg – that’s my daughter’s husband – he’s tall like you. He’s an Army major, you know.”
Chapter Five
Her phone’s long ring tone sent Andrea dashing back as she was about to leave her office. It might be something to do with Josh.
“Andrea? It’s me … Keir.”
“You just caught me. Can this keep till tomorrow?” She kept her tone even, trying to ignore the tingles that had no business tantalising her like they did.
“Actually, it can’t,” he said. “Look, there’s nothing to panic about. It’s just that your mother’s here with me.”
Andrea gripped the side of the desk, trying to absorb the message without drowning in those rich caramel tones. This was serious stuff. “I’m not panicking,” she said. “But are you saying she’s been admitted to hospital?”
“No, Andrea, I’m not. Your mum’s absolutely fine. We’re getting on like the proverbial house on fire. Although she has eaten most of my biscuits.” He sounded a tad regretful.
“I just don’t understand why she’s with you. Will you tell me what’s happening? Please.” Andrea’s voice expressed concern
“It’s a horticultural kind of thing. Look, my PA’s taken Rosemary to the washroom. Shall I bring her over to the university? Or shall I drive her home? Maybe you should give your mum’s neighbour a ring in case she’s looking for Rosemary.”
Andrea’s thoughts whirled, only to land exactly where they started. “I - there’s Josh to collect. I’ll need to ring the crèche and tell them I’m running late.”
“No. Please let me help. Why don’t I drive Rosemary home and meet you there after you’ve collected your son?”
“Your time’s valuable, Keir. I feel so embarrassed by this.” Andrea, knowing tears threatened, willed herself to keep calm. He’d think she was some kind of a wimp.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Your mum’s a walking history book. She’s going to be a real asset to the trial.” He paused. “They’re coming back. Lyn’s given me Rosemary’s address and if the neighbour’s not in e
vidence, we’ll wait outside in the car and I’ll learn more about British Prime Ministers. One or two of them were really quite naughty, weren’t they?”
***
Keir parked outside Rosemary’s bungalow to find a sweet-faced middle-aged woman watching from the window of the house next door. The woman came down her path at once and greeted him as he opened the car door.
“Dr Harrison?” She held out her hand. “I’m Lizzie Dean, Rosemary’s neighbour. I just got a call from Andrea. What a relief to know Rosemary’s all right.” She stopped and waved at Keir’s passenger.
“She’s fine, Mrs Dean. It’s one of those things. Rosemary has a good perception of traffic and she directed me here. My GPS system didn’t get a look in.”
Lizzie smiled. “I’m so sorry to put you to all this trouble. What a blessing you happened along when you did.”
“All part of my job,” he said. “By the way, do you have a key to the bungalow?”
“I have my own key,” called Rosemary, clambering from the front seat. “Can you stay to tea? We haven’t got to Gladstone yet.”
Keir moved round the vehicle to assist her. “It’s very kind of you to invite me but now Lizzie’s here, I should get back to my desk. I’ll see you soon, Rosemary. I’ve really enjoyed our discussion.”
As he got back behind the wheel, he wondered if Andrea would expect to find him waiting. After all, he’d agreed to meet her at her mother’s place. But with Lizzie to take charge, there remained no reason to hang around. Seeing Andrea with her small son was not what he needed, especially after that clear reminder from his grandmother regarding Josh’s father. Andrea’s tall husband was obviously very much in the picture and fantasising about a woman so clearly off limits would in no way help matters.
***
“I have to say, your mother’s amazing,” said Lizzie, shaking her head and smiling. “Nipping off to the hospital garden like that. I reminded her this morning that we had a tea date today. I’m so sorry, Andrea.”
