A Life Less Lonely

by Jill Barry

  Keir was in two minds whether to blow the whistle on Sister Haynes, although, to behave as she had, sent a clear message. She was a very lonely and sad woman who had to be pitied. But why the heck did it have to be him she fixated upon? What she had done was tantamount to stalking. If only Andrea would let him explain every bit of the whole stupid mess, he’d forgive Moira. If it would mean future happiness for Andrea and for him still remained possible.

  To think he’d accused Andrea of not trusting him. How laughable was that? He’d insisted he longed to become part of her life – next day she hears he was round at Moira’s house before asking for an invitation to hers. Then up pops Rhonda Pierce, high-powered, glossy, foxy Canadian lady. He had, even to his own ears, been made to sound like a love rat. There were plenty of them around, but surely Andrea wouldn’t believe he’d hit the high spots with two women in the same evening?

  Suddenly Keir remembered the day he’d spoken to Susie McIntosh with regard to joining the drug trial team. Susie’s comments about her nursing colleague had been, well, guarded to say the least. Nobody ever had anything detrimental to say about Moira’s work. But, now he thought about it, nobody ever mentioned her in the context of friendship, nice nature or helpfulness except in a strictly professional capacity.

  If Andrea wouldn’t allow him to explain his version of events then he’d have to find some other way of putting matters right. If Susie could offer proof as to Moira’s dubious track record, surely Andrea would take her word?

  Suddenly he felt very tired. His emotions had taken a bashing as well as Andrea’s, and maybe this was fate’s way of telling him to keep away from romantic involvements. Keir wandered over to the fridge and took out a beer. To hell with it - he might as well have a drink while he waited to hear from Andrea. Surely she wouldn’t ignore the closeness they’d already shared?

  ***

  Andrea and her son were sitting in a café, eating ice cream. Luscious vanilla ice cream topped with hot fudge sauce, the whole concoction sprinkled with chocolate vermicelli. They’d eaten tomatoes and bacon on a grilled bap apiece before the decadent dessert. She frowned, recalling the last time she’d used that expression. On that occasion she’d been seated opposite Keir, at the restaurant in the French Quarter where he took her on their last night in Montreal. She’d always been scornful of people using the term ‘rollercoaster ride’. It was such a cliché. But right now, she couldn’t think of anything to surpass that expression to describe what had happened to her since joining Dr Keir Harrison’s team.

  He’d seemed so sincere. Stop it Andrea! She swallowed another mouthful of ice cream, enjoying the gloopy chocolate heaven in spite of her churning emotions.

  “This is lush, Mum.”

  “It certainly is, Josh. Don’t expect it too often,” she said. “This is a special treat today because I’m so pleased with Gran’s progress.”

  “Are they making her better again? Will she be able to take me to the park soon?”

  “Probably not, sweetheart.’ She patted his arm. ‘Sorry. What we’re hoping is that she won’t get any worse. She’s quite old, you know. That’s why we’re trying to help her.”

  “Will she die soon?” Josh wore a smear of fudge sauce on his chin. Andrea felt love well up inside her. Death had danced into their lives too much and Josh was far too young to lose so many he loved. No way should she be putting a new relationship ahead of her son. She should have known better. What kind of a mother was she?

  “Mum?”

  “Oh, I hope not, Josh. But dying is something that happens to all of us one day,” she said, trying to sound matter of fact. “Your dad was in a high-risk job.” She swallowed. This was getting heavy. “You remember Aunty Kirsty’s dog dying?”

  “Luis cried loads. Nearly as much as you did when Daddy died.”

  “I know. Sometimes sad things happen and people don’t cry. Sometimes they do. I can’t explain it. It’s all about something we call emotion.”

  “Are you sad, Mummy?”

  For a moment he sounded ridiculously mature. Andrea took her serviette and wiped his chin. “How could I possibly be sad when I’m with you, scoffing chocolate sundaes? When we’ve finished, how about we go to the park and see what the ducks are up to? Then it’s home to bed. Saturday tomorrow so no work for Mummy.”

  “Wicked,” said Josh. “Can we go to Auntie Kirsty’s? Please, Mummy.”

  Why not? It seemed the perfect solution. The thought of Keir turning up on their doorstep did not appeal. She couldn’t bear the thought of her emotions in the blender again. Andrea took out her phone and called up her friend’s number.

  “It’s ringing, Josh,” she said. “But if they’re busy, we’ll find somewhere else to go. Somewhere you can run around and have fun. That’s a promise.”

  She was wondering which of Josh’s little friends might be free to come along with him, when Kirsty picked up the phone. Moments later Andrea gave her son a high-five. Their day out was arranged and they’d be well away from Hartnett, just in case Mr Wolf came knocking.

  ***

  Keir spent a fractured night, agonising about his next move. He even wished Andrea would ring him and give him a tongue-lashing. Anything would be better than this awful silence hanging like a toxic cloud between them. Imagining her deleting his answer phone messages hurt more than he would have believed. Also on his mind was the meeting he’d attended that morning. Everyone had cost-cutting as prime target. Keir’s trial was a matter of great interest and at this point in his life, whatever else was changing into a pear shape, his career seemed right on course. It was ironic. Despite all his hard work and his recognition of his former mistakes, a happy, lasting relationship still appeared as likely as him winning a Nobel Prize.

  Seated at his kitchen table, drinking yet another cup of tea, Keir resolved to write a letter to Andrea, get in the car and deliver it to her house. If she didn’t answer the doorbell, he’d push the envelope through her letterbox. Surely she couldn’t possibly believe he was a - whatever today’s word for womaniser was? ‘Player’? That’d be the one.

  Absent-mindedly, he rose from his chair and took out a couple of wholemeal bread slices. Andrea’s cheeky remark aimed at consultants being careless over the recommended intake of fruit and vegetables swam into his head. While the bread browned beneath the grill, he unpeeled a banana and bit into it, standing in front of the cooker. If he wandered away, he’d be eating charcoal for breakfast.

  ***

  By the time Keir finished his morning chores, Andrea and Josh were setting off for their day out. Josh insisted on bringing Becks, his battered but favourite teddy bear with them. Becks wore a miniature Manchester United strip and a manic grin. The little boy chattered as his mother drove them out of the town and on to the dual carriageway.

  “When’s that nice man coming to see us, Mummy?”

  Andrea’s stomach lurched. “Um, the man who called round the other evening, do you mean?” As if legions of men often parachuted in for tea and biscuits.

  “The doctor man.”

  Sometimes Andrea felt her son’s memory was a little too retentive. “Ah, Dr Harrison,” she said. “Well, he is very busy, Josh. He’s helping Gran to stay well so maybe it’s best not to interrupt him just now.” Mentally she crossed her fingers. Keir had made it plain he wanted to meet her son but in view of recent developments, surely he hadn’t really meant what he said? It stung to think he might have played on her sympathies in order to lure her into what might be called his harem.

  “Boy, but I must have become a rotten judge of character,” she muttered, forgetting Josh’s sharp ears.

  “Are we nearly there yet, Mummy?’ Fortunately her son had other things on his mind.

  “You need to be patient a little longer, Josh. Tell me what you hope you’ll be doing today with Uncle Rafa and Luis while I have a lovely chat with Aunty Kirsty.”

  This got Andrea off the hook though the football theme still shone through. Today, she though
t ruefully, might have presented the perfect opportunity to introduce Keir to Josh, the occasion being diluted by a fun time with her and her son’s favourite people. That wasn’t to be. Fate continued to reshuffle her life cards but no way would she allow herself to wallow in depression. Too many people depended on her, including the members of the trial team.

  While Josh chattered his way through a goal-scoring scenario, which involved Becks, poised on his knee, shooting imaginary goals into the glove compartment, Andrea’s jaw set as if she’d slapped on a mud face-pack. The thought of rubbing shoulders, not only with Keir but with that red-haired siren, made her wish she could whisk Josh away and fly back to Montreal. In spite of what had happened since, she’d fallen in love with the city and felt a definite bond forged with Pierre and Lisa. They were her kind of people. To have such a holiday in view would give her something to keep her mind off her emotions. And Josh was just old enough to appreciate the trip.

  Andrea crossed the boundary of the town where Kirsty and family lived, cheering Becks as he headed in the winning goal. She remained of course completely unaware that Keir Harrison stood on her front doorstep at that precise moment, finger about to press the bell. If she could have seen the expression on her guilty lover’s face, she might possibly have felt a twinge of compassion.

  ***

  Ignoring the space on the driveway where the car should have been, Keir rang Andrea’s doorbell a second time. Her vehicle might be in for service. Or, she could easily have lent it to Mrs Dean, especially if Lizzie needed to drive Rosemary somewhere. Who was he trying to convince? Andrea wasn’t at home and he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’d no intention of being at home to him ever again. He puffed air through his cheeks and felt in his jacket pocket for the letter he’d written to her. Fingering the envelope, he closed his eyes, wondering the wisdom of hammering his point home. Andrea wasn’t exactly making it easy for him to explain the situation.

  Shooting one last despairing look over his shoulder at the impassive house, Keir strode down the driveway towards his car. What now? This depressing situation nagged at his brain and left him feeling uncoordinated and restless. Shopping? His fridge had been recently well stocked. Household tasks? The cleaner he employed so his house didn’t end up resembling his long ago student digs would be coming in after the weekend. As for the garden, he could mow the back lawn but the shrubbery looked after itself and the front garden needed little attention, having been immaculately paved by the previous owners.

  He drove out of Andrea’s road, wondering if he’d ever have cause to visit it again. Keir frowned. What was that song one of his elderly patients had been singing to him yesterday? At the time it seemed absurdly appropriate. Now the sentiment expressed in it seemed too poignant to think about. This Nearly Was Mine. That was the song. He wasn’t sure where it came from but that didn’t matter.

  He needed to take a hold on himself. If Andrea really, really wanted him, she’d have reacted to his phone messages. Surely? If she’d written him off, she would continue to ignore them. Maybe he should give her 48 hours to respond. That should allow her plenty of time to confirm her feelings. How fantastic it would be if she missed him as much as he missed her. How fantastic if she returned from wherever she’d gone and rang him later that day. If she didn’t, how difficult would it be for the pair of them, forced to meet professionally and keeping their distance personally, pretend to the rest of the world they were nothing but colleagues?

  Keir drove straight home. If the worst happened and Andrea didn’t want to know him, he’d go off next weekend somewhere on his own. Maybe look up one or two people he’d not seen in a while. If she decided to draw a line beneath Moira’s pathetic theatricals, maybe he could look forward to a family weekend with Andrea and Josh. Keir didn’t often pray, but on this occasion he unashamedly spoke his thoughts aloud, as if he had a direct line to some higher and holier consultant.

  ***

  “Phew!” Kirsty dropped into the chair beside Andrea. “I’m beginning to wilt.”

  Andrea cast a professional eye over her friend, bump prominent now. “You look fantastic – textbook stuff. Are you sleeping?”

  “Pretty well, thanks - but I want to know about you. You sounded very cloak and dagger on the phone. While the guys are at the leisure centre, why don’t you tell me what’s bugging you?”

  “I don’t want you to think I come running over here just to unburden my woes,” Andrea said.

  Kirsty shook her head. “If you and I didn’t have each other to confide in, we’d probably end up talking to ourselves. Not that I don’t do that anyway sometimes,” she said thoughtfully. “Come on. Let’s take advantage of this rare oasis of peace.”

  She listened in silence as Andrea related the events of the past few weeks, beginning of course with the meeting at the elevator. Listened in fascination, learning what a good sounding board Keir had proved to be on the flight to Canada and how he’d been the perfect gentleman (despite the time he’d grabbed her at the top of the lecture room staircase), making her feel, Andrea admitted with a grin, like the heroine from Gone with the Wind.

  “How does he kiss?” Kirsty leaned forward.

  “I can’t tell you that!”

  “Of course you can.”

  Andrea looked heavenwards then relented. “Like the world has stopped spinning? Like the two of us are about to float off together somewhere warm and sunny? Slow burn at first then – oh, heck. It’s all past tense now.”

  “That well, ay? And you still decided to keep things on a professional level, even after such a heart stopping kiss?”

  Andrea craned her neck to look at the leafy branches of the gnarled old lilac tree. Sunlight created a kaleidoscope of light and shade. “I didn’t think it wise to encourage him any further,” she said.

  “Flippin’ heck, if you were wearing a bonnet, I’d think you’d stepped straight out of a Jane Austen novel,” Kirsty said. Rather tartly. “You’re two single adults - this consultant of yours is single, I hope?”

  “He’s not mine, Kirsty!” Andrea bit her lip. “At first I assumed he was married but he’s actually divorced.”

  “Keir told you that himself?”

  “His friend Pierre spilled the beans while we were having lunch together in Montreal. Keir has spoken to me about his failed marriage since though.”

  “Let me get this straight. When you kissed him back that time after the lecture, you were still under the impression he was a married man?”

  Andrea shifted in her seat. “Um, yes, I suppose so.”

  “That tells me the attraction between you two must be pretty darned powerful. Unless you’ve been concealing a secret scarlet woman persona, you’re just not the type to go round snogging other women’s husbands.” Looking smug, Kirsty folded her arms over her bump.

  Andrea didn’t laugh. “I felt sure my reaction was all down to the rebound thing. I didn’t want to complicate my life any more than I had to. While we were in Montreal, I realised - and this sounds terrible – I realised how much I wanted to go to bed with him.”

  “I’ll make us something to drink.” Kirsty levered herself up from the chair. “But I want to hear more. I can’t believe you’d have reached such a huge decision as sleeping with this man unless he was pure gold. Your judgement was certainly spot on with Greg,” she added gently.

  Left alone, Andrea recognised the truth in what her friend said. She also knew what Kirsty would say once the whole episode had been related. Kirsty would tell her she was crazy to allow Moira Haynes to muddy the waters. Kirsty would tell her she was crazy not to give Dr Keir Harrison one more chance. At least let him explain his own version of events.

  In the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, Kirsty heard the beep of a text message arriving. The sound came from Andrea’s short-sleeved white linen jacket, hanging on the back of a chair. She slipped her hand in the pocket and drew out her friend’s mobile, weighing it in her palm and staring at the little screen. Could
this be a message from the man they’d been discussing? Dare she access it? Ring him back and tell him to get the hell over here and talk some sense into the unhappy woman sitting under her lilac tree?

  Kirsty shook her head and placed the phone on the drinks tray. She might believe her friend was a knucklehead but no way should she influence her very important decision. No way did she believe Andrea really doubted Keir’s sincerity. It was the understandable instinct for self-preservation making her pull back from the possibility of further hurt and disappointment. Pull back from what seemed to be the promise of a wonderful happy ending for both Andrea and Keir.

  She made a single mug of coffee and poured herself a glass of orange juice before returning to the garden and handing over Andrea’s phone.

  ***

  Keir dumped a pile of grass cuttings behind a bush laden with fat fuchsia blossoms. The job was done, despite the man who lived next-door waylaying him to talk about the English cricket team before he’d even switched on his mower. He needed a shower, a cool drink and something to eat, but not necessarily in that order.

  Sweaty and hot, he walked through the back door into the kitchen just as his landline shrilled. He hurled himself at the phone, willing it to be Andrea on the other end. It had to be her.

  “Keir Harrison.”

  “Keir! How are you?” Richard’s voice.

  Keir swallowed his disappointment, closed his eyes briefly and muttered something in response.

  “Good, good. Louise wants to take advantage of this lovely weather. I get the job of ringing round. Would you be free to come to our house around six o’clock? A few drinks and nibbles. She’s already made a quiche the size of a cartwheel. We don’t usually do impromptu – must be the sunshine getting to us.”

  Keir swallowed his dismay. He didn’t much like parties. But what about Andrea? Surely she would be invited? Richard and Louise were close friends of hers. All of a sudden it seemed to be a no-brainer.