A Life Less Lonely

by Jill Barry

  He nodded. “I get it. So lunch is part of the selection process? If I eat peas from my knife or shower my food with salt will your colleagues be mentally awarding me marks out of ten?”

  Po-faced, she looked him in the eye. “Be very afraid. It’s only the big boss who gets to slurp his tea.” She got to her feet and Keir immediately stood too.

  “We can freshen up on our way to the dining room,” she said. “I’ll just collect my purse then we’ll go throw you to the lions.”

  ***

  Some days were like that. Andrea’s mother was being a tad tetchy. No matter how tactfully she tried, Lizzie Dean could not persuade Rosemary to stop dawdling and prepare to travel to Hartnett General for the morning clinic session. At last the elderly woman came out of her bedroom but still wearing slippers instead of her summer sandals.

  “Rosemary, the colour of your dress is very pretty but I’m not sure the slippers go with it.” Lizzie held her breath, hoping this was a wise remark.

  Rosemary looked down. “Oh dear,” she said. “I’d better change.”

  “You look lovely in the dress. Why don’t I fetch your navy-blue sandals and you can just slip into them?”

  “That’s a grand idea,” said Rosemary. “Do you know where to find them?”

  Lizzie left her in the hallway while she collected the sandals. They weren’t on the shoe rack inside the big wardrobe and she needed to check under chairs before locating them neatly parked beneath the bed. She returned to find the hallway empty.

  It was too much. Lizzie’s good humour and patience was often sorely tested and that morning she’d awoken feeling slightly out of sorts. “After all, I’m human too,” she muttered to herself. “Rosemary,” she called. “Where are you?” A quick glance showed her the door chain remained in position. But that mightn’t apply to the kitchen.

  “I’m in here!”

  Rosemary raised her eyes to the heavens. Panic over. Then she saw the funny side. Rosemary was leafing through a dictionary she kept on the table beside her favourite chair.

  “Do you think you could leave the crossword until later, please?” Rosemary crossed her fingers behind her back. “We really need to get going now.”

  Rosemary looked up indignantly. “But this is very important.”

  Lizzie walked towards her charge. “Why don’t we take the crossword and dictionary with us? Then we can solve some clues in between the games and things you’ll be doing?”

  The older woman’s face broke into a smile. “What a good idea.”

  Still clutching a handbag roomy enough to hold a bundle of kittens, she followed Lizzie through to the front door. Today, Lizzie would have to leave the session early in order to reach the school on time. Andrea would take an early lunch break and drive her mum home. Two ham salads sat under wraps in the fridge. The kindly neighbour who came in to keep an eye on Rosemary at odd times would take over so Andrea could return to the university. It was a highly organised schedule rather like a line of dominoes, with everyone hoping the first one wouldn’t fall.

  Lizzie fully appreciated Andrea had had a tough time over the last months. But she could not help but wonder what seemed to be keeping her so preoccupied lately. You’d have thought she’d be satisfied now her mum’s care was sorted and her job involved working with such a charming man.

  ***

  Keir stood beside Rhonda Pierce at the elevator on her office floor.

  “You see, Keir, your visit today has left me more than ever convinced you’re the right person for the job.”

  “Because when the big boss talked about ice hockey, I understood at least ten per cent of what he was saying?”

  She patted his arm. “That too. I was thinking more of your ability to talk easily to all kinds of people, orderlies, patients, consultants, lab technicians – you don’t do hierarchy, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Not if I can help it. I have to say there’s a great atmosphere in this department. Unless you’re all on your very best behaviour today.”

  “Believe me, I think you’re home and dry.” She glanced upwards. “The elevator’s about to swallow you up. Are you still OK for dinner later?”

  “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

  “We love entertaining. Patrick’s very much looking forward to meeting you.” She hesitated. “I hope you don’t mind but I’ve invited an old friend of mine, Carrie Michaels. She’s in Westmount visiting her folks and it just seemed a good idea to invite her over to keep us company.”

  “It might also keep the three of us from talking too much business,” he said. “Unless your friend happens to be another medic?”

  “She’s a musician,” said Rhonda. “A very sought-after violinist.”

  “Sounds interesting. OK, I’ll see you at seven then.”

  “Sure you can find your way?”

  “Positive.”

  Keir rode to the ground floor, acutely aware that each time he got into a lift, Andrea’s face floated across his vision. He didn’t think it was likely he’d be cured of this phenomenon too soon, even if Rhonda Pierce produced a whole strings section of glamorous friends to eat dinner with him. But maybe this was what he needed. If he wanted to make a complete clean break after the tempestuous times of the last weeks, meeting a female he was unlikely to come across again might help him banish some ghosts. Unless she happened to be looking for a soul mate, in which case, she’d be disappointed. It would take him a long time to exorcise from his thoughts the only woman he could envisage in that role.

  He walked to the nearest cab rank and stood a moment, looking back at the huge hospital complex he’d so recently visited. It put him in mind of a stack of gigantic blue and white egg boxes but its somewhat unprepossessing exterior shielded hundreds of talented, caring professionals, going about their everyday tasks. In many cases, that would be saving lives, then. Could this be the right place for him? How much was he allowing his emotions influence his career? His first concern had been the impact such a move might have upon his former wife and daughter in terms of seeing Naomi. But when he checked the distance between London and Melbourne, he discovered it was marginally less than that between Montreal and Melbourne.

  He reached the head of the queue for cabs. As he got into the next one to arrive, he told himself to stop worrying and enjoy the rest of his stay. Despite what Rhonda said, she wasn’t the decision maker. He might be shortlisted but that didn’t mean he would receive even the sniff of an offer. The board might be looking to put a younger person in post. They might even be looking to replace one woman with another. Everyone knew it would be very challenging to take over from such an impressive boss lady.

  ***

  “Don’t worry, Keir, I’m not looking to find a husband.” Carrie Michaels flashed an impish grin at him. She looked at Patrick and Rhonda. “Those guys don’t ever believe me though.”

  He’d immediately taken to this quirky woman with the tiny diamond nose stud and the cap of corn-gold hair. The hosts had left them alone after Patrick produced tall glasses clinking with ice cubes and filled with a delicious fruit concoction he swore was virtually alcohol-free.

  “I know the feeling,” Keir said. “If I’m invited anywhere, I immediately start wondering which poor soul’s been earmarked as my potential partner.”

  “Strikes me that wouldn’t spoil anyone’s evening,” she said. “You’re presumably single, undeniably attractive and doubtless solvent? I’d fancy you.”

  He burst out laughing. “You don’t stand on ceremony,” he said. “And I couldn’t possibly comment on what you’ve just said, except it’s true to say I live within my means. I’m incredibly boring in fact.” He put his drink on the patio table. “So where’s the current Mr Carrie Michaels, if I may make so bold? Or are you between boyfriends, perhaps?”

  His companion sneaked a glance over her shoulder and leaned closer.

  She smells of violet cachous, he thought. It was like a blast from his childhood when his sister used to buy tu
bes of the little sweets.

  “I’m going to entrust you with a deep, dark, secret,” she said.

  “Isn’t that rather rash? After all, you hardly know me.”

  “I know enough about you, Mr James Bond. And we’re ships that pass in the night though I really would appreciate your keeping this particular bit of information under wraps.”

  Keir nodded, highly intrigued now. Carrie’s turquoise blue eyes sparkled. He could easily imagine her dressed in an elegant black gown, lost in the melody as she drew music from her violin in harmony with the rest of her orchestral colleagues.

  “I’m not interested in guys,” she said.

  “Ah.”

  “You don’t sound in the least shocked.”

  “It’s not my business to be surprised or otherwise. You’re a beautiful woman. You’re single, intelligent and presumably solvent and it’s my pleasure to be in your company for the next few hours. I’d fancy you.”

  She sat back in her chair. “Touché, Monsieur. You’re certainly not boring. Tu es très gentil.”

  He put up his hands. “I thought this bit of Montreal was pretty much English-speaking. My French isn’t great. As to whether I’m kind or not, well the jury’s out on that one.”

  Carrie frowned. “So, did you beat your first wife? Do you drown helpless kittens?”

  “God, no!” He had to laugh at her. “The truth is I just don’t seem able to do relationships.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d said that. How long had he known Ms Michaels? Ten minutes? Suddenly he wanted to see this woman again. Whether she considered him to be bland and boring or totally bonkers, he’d a hunch she might be able to point him in the right direction. She sounded as if she’d got herself sorted. What did he have to lose?

  “Before our hosts come back, I couldn’t entice you to have lunch with me tomorrow, I suppose?”

  “Oh, Keir, you disappoint me. Do you know how many men have tried to seduce me back from the dark side, as they call it?” She’d signalled little inverted commas above her head while saying the last bit.

  “No. It’s just I’m a practising Satanist and I’m seeking a virgin for a black mass.”

  When Patrick and Rhonda emerged from the kitchen, Patrick carrying a tray on which sat a jug of his innocent, wicked cocktail, they found their guests laughing together as if they’d known one another years, not minutes.

  Rhonda jabbed her husband in the ribs. “See? I told you these two would get on.”

  Patrick’s expression was neutral. “Let’s just enjoy the evening, honey.” He went through to the patio. “How about I freshen your drinks? Dinner’s going to be in a half hour. Keir, I hear we have an acquaintance in common. Pierre Duval? Our paths have led us different ways but we went through med school together.”

  “Small world again,” said Keir. “I met up with Pierre and Lisa when I came over for the conference.”

  “The conference where my lovely wife button-holed you. What did you think of the hospital?”

  Keir glanced at the two women.

  “It’s OK,” said Patrick. “Those two are catching up on the local gossip.”

  Keir nodded. “I haven’t said anything to Pierre about coming over here again.”

  “Is that wise? If he does happen to hear about it, won’t he be hurt?”

  “I can’t believe my life would be of such interest.”

  “No? You’d be surprised. This is quite a high-profile position you’re up for. Rhonda and I haven’t mentioned the famous Dr Keir Harrison possibly taking over from her. But you better believe the old grapevine’s working overtime.” He smiled. “Don’t look so worried. Aren’t things like that back in the UK?”

  “Is the Pope a Catholic?”

  “Well, there you go, then.”

  “Maybe I’ll give Pierre a ring tomorrow.”

  “I would. He’s a friend. And if you do end up working here, you’ll surely need friends to help you over the first hurdles.”

  Keir stared at his host. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. But I understand where you’re coming from. I was, erm, trying not to make too much of it. While nothing’s decided, I mean.”

  “Pardon me, but I don’t believe you’d have flown all this way unless you were a little bit interested in this job.”

  “I’m very interested, Patrick. Frankly, I think it could be a very good move for me. If they offer it, that is.”

  “Are you considering applying elsewhere? Hell’s bells, Keir, I don’t mean to pry. You must think I’m some piece of work.”

  Keir grinned, thinking of Richard and his appetite for gossip. “You’re all right. I imagine you feel quite protective of this position – Rhonda being such a terrific role model and so on?”

  “I guess I do. It hadn’t really occurred to me before. I was pretty surprised when she told me she had no intention of living apart from me. She’s a lovely, loyal woman and I know she’ll be missed at the hospital. Realising how much she admires your work makes me hope she can hand over the reins to you, I guess.”

  “No pressure then,” said Keir.

  ***

  When he heard the buzz of the phone he’d left on the desk in his hotel room, Keir scrabbled to reach it from his seat beside the window. Even though he was alone, he felt foolish and swore softly at himself for being such an idiot. Of course it wouldn’t be from Andrea. The lady with whom he was lunching later that day had sent a short and succinct message regarding where they were to meet.

  Hi Mr Bond. Rehearsing till 2. Meet you in Nijinsky’s. Google it.

  Carrie Michaels delighted him though he wondered what some of his colleagues back at Hartnett would think if they knew he was lunching with her. He’d already typed her name into his search engine and discovered her mind-blowing musical background. She was in demand as a soloist and she’d performed in just about every top concert hall worldwide. He wondered what else he’d learn about her. If he did come to Montreal, she wouldn’t be around very much, that was for sure. Her orchestra was touring at the moment but normally she was based on the west coast.

  He replied to her text then checked the time. He’d left his hire car in his hosts’ driveway the evening before and shared a taxi back with Carrie. Her folks lived not far from Patrick and Rhonda. He hoped they wouldn’t resent some strange Englishman stealing their daughter’s precious leisure hours like this. Patrick had told him he’d come and pick him up so Keir could drive his car back to the hotel. Keir had chuckled when Carrie had said it wouldn’t hurt to let slip the two of them had a lunch date. She loved covering her tracks, she’d said.

  ***

  “It’s not about me being afraid to say I’m gay. It’s about sparing my family and friends from biting their fingernails,” she told Keir when they were sipping ice-cold beers at a table on the restaurant’s terrace.

  “I understand about your folks but don’t any of your friends know? Or even suspect? I apologise if I’m out of order.”

  “That’s OK. You know what? I don’t question them, so why should they expect me to bare my soul?”

  He nodded. “Fair enough, but surely your parents might be a little bit curious if you never take anyone home? Do you never mention going out on dates?”

  She shrugged. “It’s easy to talk about socialising with a group of friends. My parents respect my status as a musician. They’re pleased for me that I’m following a career I love.” She moved her glass slowly round on its coaster. “I don’t have to tell lies. I just tinker a little with the truth.”

  “I think we all have to do that, now and then.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I expect they did it with their olds. Probably with them it was stuff like smoking on the sly or a spliff now and then. This is kind of bigger than that. It’s possible they suspect but they don’t want to upset me.”

  Keir smiled at her. “You sound like you have a good relationship with your parents.”

  “I think so. And if I do settle down with a special someone one of
these days, well, I like to think my parents will understand. It’s all about both being sure, isn’t it? Two people, whatever their genders, each feeling the same urge to commit? To me that spells contentment.”

  They sat in silence, enjoying the cool green oasis beneath the huge umbrella sheltering them from the sun. After they’d placed their orders for what Carrie told Keir were the best burgers and chips in Montreal, she sat back and looked him in the eye.

  “So, what’s next for the sexy Brit Doc?”

  He shook his head at her. “Lunch? Coffee? You tell me you have to get back and practise again. I shall probably visit a gallery before I meet an old friend for a bite to eat this evening. Tomorrow, I fly back to the UK.”

  She crossed her eyes at him. “Thanks for the diary details but I think you know what I really mean.”

  He picked up a pretzel and bit into it.

  “In your own time,” she said.

  “Persistent so and so, aren’t you?”

  “You better believe it.”

  “If I get this job offer, I think I’m going to accept it.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m not counting my chickens.”

  “Understood, but, let’s say they offer it and you accept. Will you be saying yes for all the right reasons?”

  “To be honest, without blowing my own trumpet, I’m on a bit of a career high at the moment. I’m not in any way unhappy with my job back home. Ideally, I suppose I shouldn’t move on for at least another couple of years. But -”

  “Something’s bugging you and it’s not a career thing?”

  “You got it.”

  She sighed. “So this whole trip is predicated on your emotions. It’s a heart-not-head thing.”

  Keir winced. “That sounds terrible. For a start, you make me sound such a wimp.”

  “Are you a wimp?”

  He considered for a moment. ‘Maybe. Some would say I’m running away from a situation.”

  “I know you’re divorced. Is this situation like a relationship thing?”

  Suddenly he wanted to tell her everything. She made a good listener. The restaurant was busy and their meal didn’t arrive for a while, by which time he’d given the basic details to Carrie and he knew she’d filled in the rest for herself.