by Kate Hardy
And she really wasn’t trying to come on to him. Yes, Jamie Thurston was gorgeous; he reminded her of the actor in one of her favourite historical dramas, all dark and brooding and with those amazing cornflower-blue eyes. But she wasn’t risking her heart again. Johnny had made it very clear that nobody would want to tie themselves down to her, not once they knew the truth about her. She was pretty sure he’d said it to make himself feel better; the man she’d fallen in love with had been one of the good guys, but the shock of learning that they couldn’t have a family without a lot of medical intervention had changed him. It had made him look elsewhere; and then the guilt of knowing how badly he’d treated Anna had pushed him into saying unforgivable things that had hurt her even more than his betrayal.
‘I’m just not very good at social things,’ Jamie said.
‘Though the football isn’t a Christmassy thing.’ She winced even as the words spilled out of her mouth. Oh, for pity’s sake. The poor man had made it quite clear that he didn’t want to do the team thing next week. Why didn’t she take the hint and just get off his case?
Thankfully then their session on the bowling lanes started again, and she had to concentrate on trying to make the ball go straight. Not that she managed it. And this time she only knocked down one pin from each end. How pathetic was that?
Jamie said to her, ‘It’s your follow-through.’
‘Follow-through?’ she asked, mystified.
‘Where your hand points, that’s where the ball ends up.’
She laughed wryly. ‘Straight in the gutter, if I didn’t have the bumper bars up. But I guess my zig-zag approach is a bit too haphazard.’
‘Keep your arm straight and let the ball go when your hand’s pointing to the middle of the pins,’ he said. ‘Watch me.’
She did. ‘Wow. You got a strike.’
‘Because I aimed for the middle.’
‘I aim for the middle,’ she protested.
‘But you let the ball go too late,’ he said. ‘I take it you don’t go ten-pin bowling with your partner?’
Johnny hadn’t really been into ten-pin bowling. ‘No partner,’ she said.
He winced. ‘That wasn’t a come-on.’
‘I know.’ She smiled at him. ‘You sounded like someone who wants to help. A friend. And I appreciate that.’
He stilled, and she wondered if she’d gone too far.
But then he smiled. The kind of smile that lit up the whole room, and it transformed him utterly. It was as if he’d stepped out of the shadows he seemed to keep round him. When he smiled, Jamie Maskell was breathtakingly handsome.
‘I’ll help you with the next frame,’ he said.
‘Whatever you do, I’m still going to come last on our lane,’ she warned. ‘But it would be nice to actually do this right, for once.’
‘I can help you do that.’
She looked at him. ‘You’re like me, aren’t you? A fixer at heart.’
‘It’s kind of the definition of a surgeon, fixing things,’ he said dryly.
It was more than that, she thought. He was a fixer who wasn’t going to admit it.
Whatever had made Jamie Thurston put distance between himself and the world—and between himself and Christmas—maybe she could help him with that, the way he was helping her with the bowling.
She thought about it while they chatted with the others in their lane.
She stopped thinking for a little while when Jamie helped her with the bowling, standing close to her but not close enough to be sleazy or awkward. Because then he slid his arm along hers, showing her how to angle the ball correctly. The touch of his skin against his flustered her so much that she nearly forgot to let the ball go.
‘You went slightly to the left,’ he said when she’d knocked six pins down. ‘So this time you need to go slightly to the right.’
Again, he guided her through the procedure. And this time her ball hit the four pins in the middle, and they all went down.
‘There you go. You got a half-strike.’
‘That’s amazing.’ She flung her arms round him and hugged him.
* * *
When was the last time anyone had hugged him? When he’d actually let a woman hug him, because he’d pushed his mum and his sisters away, not to mention Hestia’s family and her best friend?
Probably at the funeral.
And now Anna Maskell had ignored all his usual barriers and hugged him. Briefly, because she stepped back almost immediately and said, ‘Sorry. That was a bit over the top. But I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get all the pins down like that before and I got a bit overexcited.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Let me be more appropriate. Thank you for your help, Mr Thurston,’ she said more formally.
‘You’re most welcome, Dr Maskell,’ he replied, equally formally. Though he could feel himself withdrawing again. Going back into the dark little hole where he’d lived for the last three years. But that hug had made him feel odd. As if there was a little flare of light, far in the distance. A light that drew him and beckoned him—if he had the courage to go and find it.
It took enough courage for him simply to exist from day to day. Going in search of a new life still felt too hard. But now he knew it was out there, and the little light wasn’t going to let itself hide again. It stayed put, telling him it would still be there when he was ready to look for it properly.
He managed to focus on the bowling for the rest of the evening. But then it was over, everyone was spilling outside, and his new colleagues all seemed to be heading off in different directions.
He’d walked a few steps when he realised that Anna was beside him. ‘It looks as if we’re going the same way,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you?’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Thank you for the bowling lesson,’ she said.
‘Pleasure.’ The word was polite and automatic, but Jamie was shocked to realise that he actually meant it. He’d enjoyed helping Anna, seeing her confidence grow along with her ability.
She’d said that she thought he was a fixer at heart.
He had been, once. Before the thing had happened that he hadn’t been able to fix. And he had to admit that it had been good to feel that way again, however briefly.
‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘Maybe I can help you.’
He frowned. ‘How?’
‘Christmas,’ she said.
The time of year he really disliked.
‘This isn’t a come-on,’ she added. ‘Just to be clear, I’m not looking to date anyone.’
She’d said earlier that she didn’t have a partner; though Jamie could imagine Anna Maskell right at the heart of a family. A large one. Why didn’t she have a partner, and why didn’t she want to date anyone?
Though it was none of his business and he wasn’t going to ask; if he started asking personal questions, then it was tantamount to an invitation for other people to ask him the same sort of things. Things he didn’t want to discuss.
‘I’m not going to pry,’ she said, echoing his own thoughts. ‘But Christmas is a fairly big thing at Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital, so it’s going to be in your face all the time. Maybe I can help show you that Christmas has its good side, so you don’t feel you have to try to avoid it all the time and it makes life feel a bit less pants at work.’
Maybe he should tell her why he disliked Christmas, so she’d back off.
Then again, he didn’t want to see the pity in her face once he told her what had happened.
‘Show me that Christmas has its good side,’ he echoed.
‘Yes. And, just in case you think I’m pitying you, I will admit that I have an ulterior motive.’
He frowned. ‘Doesn’t that kind of ruin any scheming, if you warn me that you have an ulterior motive?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘because I beli
eve in what you see is what you get.’
He was going to have to ask now. ‘What’s your ulterior motive?’
‘I help you, and you help me.’
Oh, no. He knew exactly where this was going. ‘You mean, if you show me that Christmas isn’t the worst time of the year, then I’ll play Father Christmas for the ward?’
She grinned. ‘Thank you, Jamie. That’s an offer I’m very happy to accept.’
Hang on. He hadn’t offered. He’d just said out loud what he was pretty sure she was thinking. ‘But I—’ He couldn’t finish the sentence. She’d shocked him into silence.
‘Sometimes,’ she said gently, ‘when you avoid something, you give it more power than it deserves. Facing it head-on can cut it back down to its proper size and make it manageable again.’
He didn’t have an answer to that.
‘I’ve had days when I’ve had to fake it to make it,’ she said. ‘Days when I haven’t wanted to get out of bed and face the world—days when all I’ve wanted to do is curl into a little ball and let it all wash over me.’
He knew exactly how that felt, and it made him look at her. Really look at her. And there wasn’t any pity in her expression. Just empathy. Understanding. Clearly someone or something had hurt her enough that she’d been through an emotional nightmare, too.
‘I’m not going to pry,’ she said, ‘but I think Christmas is like that for you. I’m a fixer, just like I think you are. I can’t fix everything, and neither can you. But I reckon we might be able to fix a problem for each other, because we’re on the same team.’
Of course she couldn’t fix his problem. Nobody could bring anyone back from the dead.
He was about to say no. But then he remembered this evening. How she’d steamrollered him into joining in with the ten-pin bowling, and he’d actually ended up enjoying the evening. He’d felt part of a group of people—something he’d told himself he never wanted to do again. But that momentary closeness had managed to do what he’d thought was impossible; it had temporarily lifted the cloak of misery from round him.
If she could take the bits he hated about Christmas away, too, then maybe this was worth a shot. And if she could do that, he’d very happily wear that Father Christmas outfit to help her in return. ‘So what exactly are you suggesting?’ he asked.
‘Doing Christmassy things together,’ she said. ‘It’s the middle of November now. Give me a month. If I can convince you that Christmas has its good side, then you agree to be Father Christmas for the ward.’
‘And if you can’t convince me?’
‘Then there’s a bit of padding and a voice-changer in my very near future,’ she said. ‘And I’ll also apologise for not being able to make this time of year more bearable for you.’
He could walk away now. Stay wrapped in his shroud of misery.
Or he could say yes.
Anna had made it clear that she wasn’t asking him because she fancied him. The pull of attraction he felt towards her was clearly one-sided, and he had no intention of acting upon it anyway. She was merely suggesting that they could help each other.
He could almost hear Hestia’s voice in his ear. Say yes. The petite ballet teacher he’d fallen in love with had adored Christmas. She’d loved all the snowflakes and the fairy lights and the joy that her favourite ballet brought to her students and their parents alike. He’d loved it as much as she had, because her joy had been infectious.
Without her, it had been unbearable and he’d avoided it.
He had to admit it would be good to be able to cope with Christmas again. To remember the joy Hestia had found in the festive season, instead of seeing it as a harsh reminder of everything he’d lost. And for him to stop putting a dampener on Christmas for his family, choosing to work and stay out of the way instead of spending any time with them or inflicting his misery on them during the festive season. He knew they all worried about him.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You’re on.’
‘Thank you. And you can start by texting me your menu choices for the ward’s Christmas meal over the weekend,’ she said. Though her smile wasn’t full of triumph; instead it was a mixture of relief and gratitude. ‘Maybe we can begin with something light and easy. There’s a Winter Festival in the park for the next three weeks—basically it’s a big Christmas market. Are you working on Sunday?’
‘No.’
‘Good. I’m on an early shift, so I’ll meet you at four o’clock by the park gates.’ She stopped outside a gate. ‘This is me. I’ll see you on Sunday. And thank you.’
‘See you on Sunday,’ he echoed.
CHAPTER THREE
FOUR NEW BRONCHIOLITIS CASES, Anna thought with a sigh on Sunday afternoon. This was peak season for the respiratory syncytial virus. In adults, it produced a spectacularly nasty cold, but in children it could be much more serious, gumming up the tiny tubes inside their lungs and making it hard for them to breathe.
Small babies often went on to develop pneumonia as a result, and Anna really felt for both her tiny patients and their parents, who were often exhausted with worry and shocked by the sight of their little ones on oxygen and being fed by a tube down their nose because the babies were too tired to suck milk from a breast or a bottle.
She finished writing up her notes, did a last check on the ward in case anyone needed emergency help before she left, then texted Jamie to let him know that she was leaving the hospital on time and would meet him at four.
Hopefully she could change his views on Christmas and take away its power to hurt him. She wasn’t going to pry and ask exactly why he hated Christmas so much, but it would be good to think that she could make life a bit better for him.
Anna the Fixer. Her whole family teased her about it, but she knew they appreciated what she did. Her own problem wasn’t fixable, but you couldn’t have everything. She was blessed with a wonderful family and good friends, and she’d just about forgiven Johnny for the way he’d thrown their marriage away, even though part of her still thought that there were ways round her infertility; they could’ve given IVF a try, or fostering or adoption. But Johnny had found the pressure and the worry too much to cope with, and he’d chosen someone who could give him what he wanted without the complications.
It was just a pity that he hadn’t ended their marriage before he’d found that someone else.
His betrayal had made everything feel so much worse; and for months after that Anna had felt herself not good enough for anyone. Especially when Johnny had sneered at her that nobody would want her because she wasn’t a real woman and couldn’t give a man the family he wanted. She knew it had probably been guilt talking, trying to justify the way he’d treated her; before she’d married him, if anyone had told her he’d ever be so cruel to her in the future she would have laughed, not believing it. She and Johnny had loved each other, and they’d been happy.
But her infertility had shattered his dreams as well as her own; the months and months of disappointment when they’d tried and failed to make a baby had made him bitter, and he just hadn’t been able to cope. In turn, that had made him feel less of a man, and the anger and guilt had spilled over into spite towards the person who was causing the problem in the first place.
It had taken a long time for Anna to get her bounce back after the split. As she’d said to Jamie earlier, she’d really had to fake it until she’d managed to make it. But she had made it, and she wasn’t going to let herself slip back into misery.
‘Don’t start whining and wanting things you can’t have, Anna Maskell,’ she told herself firmly. ‘You’re really lucky and your life is as perfect as it gets. You have a family you love and who loves you all the way back, you’re working in your dream job, and you have wonderful colleagues you get on really well with. You can afford to pay your rent and put food on the table. You’re healthy.’ Well, apart from one thing, but she wasn’t act
ually sick with it. Infertility had just changed her options, that was all. ‘You’re so much more fortunate than a lot of people. And with your working hours it wouldn’t be fair to have a dog, so George the Gorgeous Goldfish is enough for you.’
The line from the old song about the doggie in the window slid into her head. But it was pointless regretting that she couldn’t take George for a walk in the park. There were plenty of dogs in her family that she could go and cuddle, and children she could play with. She needed to count her blessings, not dwell on the things she couldn’t have.
As for dating again... She knew that not all men would think the same way that Johnny had, but she really didn’t want to get close to someone and lose her heart to him, only to find out that her infertility was a problem for him and he rejected her the same way that her husband had rejected her. Then again, how could you start any kind of relationship with someone by asking them if they wanted children? It just wasn’t appropriate, not at that stage. So it was easier just to duck the issue and keep everyone on a friends-only basis, rather than risk getting involved with someone she’d end up disappointing.
Jamie hadn’t actually replied to her text saying that she was on her way to meet him, and Anna felt slightly antsy as she headed towards the park. Would he be there? Or had he had time to think about it over the weekend and decide that he couldn’t handle any part of Christmas, after all?
He owed her nothing. They barely knew each other. If he didn’t turn up, it would be her own fault for trying to steamroller him into doing something he really didn’t want to do.
But she hoped that he’d let her at least try to help him.
When she reached the entrance to the park and saw him leaning against the metal railings, her heart gave a little skip. Which was completely inappropriate. They were meeting this afternoon simply as colleagues who were in the early stages of friendship; it was a kind of quid pro quo thing. If she could help him, then he would help her. This wasn’t a date date. Yes, he was gorgeous: tall and brooding, with those enormous cornflower-blue eyes, dark hair that she suspected would be outrageously curly if it wasn’t so short, and a full, sensual mouth. But he wasn’t dating her. Full stop.
