Kate would have laughed except that she’d spotted Rory approaching, and he was already close enough to have overheard Melanie’s effusive gratitude. She tried to smile and found it easier than she had anticipated. Maybe that was the way to move forward. Keeping things light.
‘Apparently I’m an angel,’ she quipped.
‘I’ve thought that myself,’ he said. ‘More than once.’
Good grief, he sounded as though he wasn’t joking! Kate dragged her gaze down wards. To the sea of half-completed forms that lay in a messy heap beside the computer. The screensaver was back on. Bells still jingled and the clock still ticked over. Two hours and eighteen minutes to go now.
Kate sighed as she began to pick up papers. ‘I’ve got my work cut out for me here.’
‘Kate.’ Rory was close enough to lower his voice. ‘We need to talk.’
He never called her Kate. It sounded wrong. Formal. As though he was about to start discussing legalities. His parental rights. She couldn’t do that right now.
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. ‘You said so yourself.’
‘I know.’ His hair was decidedly ruffled, and she could see why when he raked his fingers through it again. ‘Just think about what I suggested in the mean time. Please?’
Her headshake was unconscious. Protective. She wasn’t going to let herself think about it any more.
‘I didn’t mean it to sound quite like it did.’ Rory’s low voice was compelling. ‘As though it was just because of the babies. Look, Kate…I never thought I’d be even thinking of marriage, but—’
Kate’s headshake was de lib er ate this time. ‘You don’t have to now, Rory. There’s no obligation.’ She glanced up from the sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘This is a new century, you know. There’s no horrible stigma attached to being a single mother. Some women actually choose to have a family that way.’
‘Is that what you’re doing?’
‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose it is.’
Surely it wasn’t disappointment she could see in his eyes? No. More likely to be anger as he gave headroom to the notion that she might have actually planned this situation. She couldn’t leave him thinking along those lines.
‘There was a choice to be made early on,’ she said carefully. ‘And I made it. You had by popular vote been abducted by aliens, so I knew I was making that choice on my own. That whatever the future held I would be dealing with it. On my own.’
His face was expression less now. ‘And is that how you want it to be?’
Oh…God! Want had nothing to do with the way it had to be. For everyone’s sake.
She was spared the agony of having to deny what she really wanted aloud. Lucy was beside the desk, a younger girl clinging to her hand.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘but Eve’s knee is bleeding again. I think she might need a new plaster.’
‘Does she now?’ Rory dropped to a crouch so that he was at eye level with the girl, who had a pixie face and long dark braids. ‘Hello, Eve.’
‘She doesn’t talk,’ Lucy said. ‘Well, not to people she doesn’t know. Do you, Eve?’
The braids wobbled as Eve shook her head.
‘But you hurt your knee?’ Rory spoke directly to Eve, and sounded as though it was no big deal that he wasn’t going to be answered.
‘She fell over when we were climbing out of the bus. The nurse said it was just a graze.’
‘Just a graze?’ Rory eyed the blood stained dressing on a small knee. ‘It’s sore, isn’t it, Eve?’
He was rewarded with a tentative nod.
‘You know what I think?’ Rory lowered his voice, making his opinion a secret. ‘I think it needs a real bandage. One that’s guaranteed to make it feel better. Shall I find one for you?’ He held his hand out.
Kate saw Lucy’s expression of astonishment when Eve’s hand crept into Rory’s. He stood up and led her to the end of the counter. Then he scooped her up and sat her on the top.
‘Bird’s-eye view,’ he said. ‘You get to be in charge while I find a bandage. Keep your eye out for anybody that’s being naughty. Especially that Santa over there. See?’ Rory jerked his head towards the cubicle where ‘Santa’ was sleeping off the effects of festive overindugence.
A loud snore sounded faintly through the busy noise and Rory raised an eyebrow. ‘Strike one,’ he said sternly. ‘Snoring.’
Eve’s lips twitched, and then she giggled.
Lucy looked at Kate, who could only shake her head and smile. She couldn’t explain how Rory did things like that. He had the ability to win hearts effortlessly. He was more relaxed now, she realised. More like the way he used to be. She saw a nurse go past with a bedpan discreetly covered with a towel. Her face had been set, indicating her desire to complete a less than pleasant task as quickly as possible, but then she noticed Rory and Eve and her lips curved in a smile.
He was good at that, too. Changing the atmosphere of the whole department by his presence. Making it feel happier. More alive. The same kind of effect he had on her.
Kate tried to concentrate on sorting the paperwork as best she could as Eve sat on the counter and swung her legs, her gaze firmly on the misbehaving Santa. Twelve of the forms were from the mini-bus passengers, and many had only first names recorded.
‘How old is Eve?’ she asked Lucy.
‘Seven.’
‘And Rhys?’
‘Four. Nearly five, I think.’
‘Do you know his last name?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Aunty Mary knows.’
‘I’ll go and talk to her. You all right for a minute?’
Lucy nodded. She was watching Rory returning, pushing a dressing trolley in front of him. Kate saw a young police officer catch his attention, and Rory indicated the resus area she was heading for herself. When she got there she found Florence beside Mary’s bed, and they were both looking appalled.
‘How could they?’ Florence was saying. ‘On Christmas Eve!’
‘Problem?’ Kate queried.
‘Someone’s stolen all the gifts that were in the mini-bus,’ the police officer told her. ‘Someone said they’d been sent, but Mrs Ballantyne says she didn’t arrange anything.’
‘No, I most certainly didn’t!’
‘The poor children.’ Florence looked close to tears. ‘As if they haven’t had enough to deal with tonight.’
‘The guys from the tow truck reckon they got a plate number. We’ve got road patrols keeping an eye out, but I wouldn’t bank on getting them back immediately.’ The police officer was sympathetic. ‘I’m really sorry.’
Mary’s nose was swollen, she had black circles under her eyes, and when she spoke it sounded as if she had a very bad cold—but, amazingly, she was smiling. She patted her housekeeper’s hand.
‘We’re lucky, Flo. Our wee Michael is going to be all right. What does it matter if the gifts have gone when we’ve all still got each other? Let’s get organised. They’re going to let us take Wally home and look after him there, and Helen will be ready to go when her plasters have dried a bit more. We’ll arrange some taxis for you, and I’ll stay here with Michael.’
‘Is he out of Theatre?’ Kate hadn’t had a chance to catch up on the most seriously injured child.
‘Just a few minutes ago.’ Florence wiped her eyes. ‘He’s going to be fine, but he’ll be in hospital for a while.’ She sniffed and turned to Mary. ‘And I’ll stay with him. The children need you to take them home.’
‘Let’s get on with it, then.’
‘I need just a couple of minutes,’ Kate said apologetically. ‘I’ve got a lot of gaps in these forms I need to fill in. Surnames and dates of birth and things for some of your children.’
‘You go,’ Mary directed Florence. ‘Be with Michael for when he wakes up in Recovery. You’ll have to be quick,’ she warned Kate. ‘I need to go to… Where are the children, Flo?’
‘The relativ
es’ room. We’ve made beds on the couches and most of them are asleep.’
‘I’ll show you,’ Kate promised. ‘This will only take a minute or two.’
RORY WAS PUTTING the finishing touches on a magnificent bandage, but he knew that Kate was returning to the desk. He could feel her approach with a curious mix of pleasure and tension.
He’d added to that tension considerably. Of course she didn’t want to marry him. And she was quite right. There was nothing unusual about women raising families on their own. Where had that idiotic suggestion of marriage come from, anyway? He’d only gone in there with the intention of taking the first step towards involvement. To offer assistance and support.
He ripped off a length of tape to hold the end of the bandage in place.
They barely knew each other. One night together. Hardly enough time to warrant even thinking of the possibility of being a couple. Except that they’d worked together for a long time. Long enough to know each other very well on a professional basis. He liked Kate. He respected her.
He was very grateful to her. And, thanks to that gratitude, she had been in his head frequently for months, and it feltcuriously as though he knew everything he needed to know about Kate Simpson.
One more strip of tape should do the trick. Rory pressed gently as he attached it to Eve’s knee.
He should have expected that fierce streak of independence in Kate. She’d been left to cope alone, and that was exactly what she’d done. What he would have expected her to do. There had always been an aura of… What was it about Kate? Peace was the best word he could come up with. She was quiet and competent, and a bit of a loner in some ways. Happy with her own company. She had rarely joined in the social events that Rory’s life had revolved around.
They had been complete op po sites.
But Rory had changed. He had faced solitude for the first time in his life, and there was nothing quite like Outback Australia to give you that experience. He’d been wrong in thinking he had to face his past tonight. He’d done that, hadn’t he? He was in a very different place than he had been six months ago.
Different enough to think that his future could change? That he could marry and have a family dependent on him?
No. If he stopped to think about it he knew the prospect would be terrifying. ‘I don’t think you need a wheelchair, but let’s see, shall we?’ Rory put Eve carefully back on the floor. ‘Testing…’ he said solemnly. ‘Weight-bearing? Check. Walking? Check.’ He tugged one of Eve’s braids gently. ‘Better?’
Eve nodded and grinned.
‘Can you say thank you?’ Lucy prompted.
Eve shook her head, but as Lucy was leading her back to the relatives’ room, she turned to smile at Rory.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Rory smiled back, but he could feel a painful lump in his throat. God, he’d missed this. That touch on his heart when he’d been able to make a difference. To take away someone’s pain. To make life a little bit better. Especially for a child.
But he couldn’t go back. He’d moved on now. It was time, in fact, to make sure his mother was in the best of care and then go home. They were just waiting for a consult from the cardiology registrar and for a bed to come available on the ward now. The Code Red was over and there was nothing else Rory needed to do. Apart from making sure he left an opening for further communication with Kate, that was. He couldn’t leave with things the way they were. He leaned over the counter.
‘Why did you tell me?’ he asked quietly. ‘If you didn’t want me to be involved?’
‘You had a right to know.’
‘Do I have a right to be involved, as well?’
‘Of course.’ Kate seemed to be taking a steadying breath, but she didn’t look up. ‘If you’re not somewhere down a mine in Outback Australia.’
‘I won’t be,’ Rory said, knowing it was true. ‘I’m not going back, Kate. I’m staying right here.’ For his mother. And now more for Kate.
Braden Foster was dumping some patient notes on the end of the counter where Eve had been sitting. His head turned sharply sideways.
‘You’re coming back?’ He moved to grip Rory’s shoulder. ‘That’s the best Christmas present I could get. I’ve only been filling in, you know. We were all waiting for you to reappear.’
No. He’d moved on. Yet why did Braden’s words give him a curious thrill that felt oddly like excitement? He didn’t want to come back to this. Or maybe he did want to. But he couldn’t. Yes, he’d won with Michael tonight, but that statistical bomb was still ticking and it was that much closer to detonating.
Maybe he’d felt that he might have coped because Kate was there, but she wouldn’t be around to help him pick up the pieces if he did come back, would she?
She’d be away from work. Raising his children.
Without him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THERE WAS ONE HOUR and twenty-nine minutes left until the start of Christmas Day.
Twenty-nine minutes until Kate’s shift was due to finish.
‘You OK, Kate?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Braden.’
‘Still busy?’
‘Not really. I’m up to date with the paperwork, and I’ve just spent some time with Mary Ballantyne going over the head injury watch-list. She’s a bit worried about taking Wally home.’
‘I’ll talk to her. His CT scan was absolutely fine. It’s only a mild concussion.’
Kate nodded. ‘He was lucky. How’s Michael doing?’
‘Very well. But they’ll keep him in ICU until they’re sure the airway isn’t compromised by any swelling.’ Braden Foster moved to one side to allow an orderly to approach the desk.
‘I’m here for a Mrs McCulloch?’ the orderly said to Kate. ‘To go to the cardiology ward.’
‘Cubicle 3,’ Kate told him. ‘Her son is with her. Dr McCulloch.’
The reminder that they were dealing with the relative of someone who had been a senior staff member here was not lost on Braden.
‘We need someone to accompany them.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Hand-over’s due to start any minute, and I need to talk to Mary.’
They both looked around the department. The registrars and other doctors were all busy. So were the nurses, now thin on the ground as many were heading to the office for the shift hand-over. Kate could see an ambulance pulling into the bay outside. Her gaze shifted, and she saw the orderly kick off the brakes on the bed he was about to move.
‘Kate? Would you mind doing the honours?’
She hesitated for just a moment. It was a long walk to the cardiology ward. Not that weariness was the reason for her hesitation. It was more the thought of the return journey without Rory’s mother and the orderly.
It would just be her and Rory. And long, quiet, empty corridors.
But they needed to talk, didn’t they? Maybe it would be better to get it over with now than to spend her Christmas Day agonising over what the future held for herself and her babies.
‘Kate?’
Marcella’s bed was moving. Nearly level with the desk. Kate gave a single nod and got to her feet. She picked up the patient notes from the end of the counter and fell into step beside Rory.
The orderly was pushing the bottom end of the bed. A big paper bag labelled ‘Patient Property’ was on the pale blue cover between the end and the lump that was Marcella’s feet. Rory had one hand on the side of the bed beside his mother’s pillow, helping to steer. His other hand steadied the bag of IV fluids that was swinging with the movement.
Nobody said anything. Marcella’s eyes were open, but she stared at the ceiling moving overhead and seemed unaware of what was happening. They left the hum of noise in the casualty department behind them as the double doors swung closed. To one side Kate caught a glimpse of the relatives’ room, and the shapes of children fast asleep on the couches. Mary Ballantyne sat in an armchair, a toddler asleep in her arms.
The corridor leading to the empty outpatient waiting a
rea was silent, but then they turned a corner into the corridor that would take them to the lift they required to reach the third floor of St Bethel’s. On the far side of the lifts was the hospital chapel, and a midnight carol service was clearly in progress. The sweet sound of ‘Silent Night’ filled the dimly lit corridor and brought the sting of tears to Kate’s eyes.
What was it about Christmas songs that created such a sense of nostalgia? The yearning for the kind of uncomplicated joy that childhood allowed for?
The orderly pushed the button to summon a service lift that was large enough to accommodate a bed. The overhead panel indicated its current position to be on the fifth floor, and Kate closed her eyes for a moment, pulling the comfort of the music around her.
It was easy to remember the best that this time of year was capable of bestowing. The celebration of family. Her mind was only too happy to escape the tense silence of the people around her by putting on a rapid fantasy slideshow that was a mix of memories and hope for the future.
A beautifully decorated tree.
A glass of milk and cookies waiting for Father Christmas.
A cold foray into a dark garden to put out a bucket of water and a handful of hay for the reindeer.
The smell of cinnamon and special treats.
Waiting until the children were asleep before taking brightly wrapped parcels from their hiding places and arranging them under the tree.
Firelight and fairylights and mistletoe.
And…and…Rory.
The yearning was so intense it was physically painful. Kate’s eyes snapped open as the discordant ‘ping’ announced the arrival of the lift just as the carol was ending in the background.
Rory had moved to the other side of the bed. Opposite Kate. He was holding his mother’s hand, but it was Kate he was looking at—and his face was so sombre she had the impression he had guessed her thoughts.
Was he thinking about Christmases to come? The fractured family they would represent? The inconvenience and amount of compromise that might be necessary?
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