Tender Touch

‘You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Ross Hamilton; this is Oliver Henderson. I’m afraid we’re responsible for your workload.’

She chuckled, and yet again she introduced herself, and yet again her hand was shaken, first by Ross, then by Oliver, who was lounging against the workstation. He looked tired, too. Another hands-on? Probably. ‘How’s your first day been?’ he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

‘It’s been fine,’ she replied. ‘Busy, but I like that.’

Ross snorted. ‘Good job—there are plenty more days where today came from. Well, take care, and don’t let Helen bully you. Any problems, you tell me and I’ll get Tom to take her on one side and beat her up a bit.’

His grin was a heartbreaker, she realised, laughing at his silly words, and then they both moved off, gathering up their registrars and going to talk to their patients. Helen accompanied one firm, Ruth another, and Laura was left blissfully alone for a few peaceful minutes. She tidied the flower-room, in chaos now after the visitors had been in and snipped stems around the place, and helped one of Ross’s Monday post-ops to the bathroom.

That done, she returned to the workstation to find Gavin writing in bold felt-tip on a blank envelope.

‘House-share to let,’ she read. Own rooms, share kitchen and bathroom, must be civilised and housetrained and prepared to tolerate home improvements!’

She could see the evidence of some of the home improvements in the white tips on his dark, silky hair. He must have been painting, she thought with a smile, and brushed against the wall. It was easily done. She found herself wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked, and shook herself. What was she thinking about? He was a colleague—and a man. She was finished with all that. Finished. Forever.

Gavin knew she was there, but the lettering needed his full attention. Tongue caught in the corner of his mouth, he completed the task, dropped the pen with a sigh and tipped the chair onto its back legs with a grin. ‘Hi. How’s your day been?’

‘Busy. I see you’re looking for a lodger.’

‘Yes—do you want to apply?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘I’ll find a flat. I’m living with my parents at the moment—it’s easier.’

‘Are they close?’

She shook her head again. ‘No, not really, but I don’t mind the journey. It’s only for a while. I’ve got a couple of flats to look at tonight after work, but they were only vacated yesterday.’

There was something in her beautiful, soft brown eyes, something wary but infinitely sad, that tugged at him. Some remnant of the child who had taken home the damaged hedgehog and nursed it back to health wanted to gather this girl up against his chest and tell her it would be all right.

He didn’t, though. She wouldn’t have tolerated it, and he wouldn’t presume to interfere on such short acquaintance. But he wondered what it was that had hurt her and put that deeply wary look in her eyes. Helen had commented on it; so had Ruth. Now Gavin found himself wondering yet again what it could have been. A lover? Husband, perhaps? She was living with her parents, but she must be nearly his age and most women in their late twenties lived independently if not with a partner.

His father’s words came back to taunt him. ‘You always hurl yourself into situations without a second thought. One day you’ll come unstuck—I thought it would be over a woman, some lame duck with horrendous problems that you’ll fall for hook, line and sinker…’

Was Laura a lame duck? Or was his imagination working overtime? Perhaps it was just those mournful brown eyes, like the eyes of a kicked puppy. God, he was going mad. She was probably fine.

He looked back up at her and surprised a look of vulnerability on her face.

‘What is it?’ he asked gently.

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘You looked thoughtfully.’

She smiled tentatively. ‘I just don’t want to live in town.’

‘So forget the flats, and come and look at my cottage.’

She stared at him as if he were mad. ‘I can’t!’ she said, scandalised.

‘Why?’

Her shoulders twitched helplessly. ‘Because.’

‘Because what? I’m a man and you’re a woman? What of it? Anyway, it’s really two cottages, linked on the ground floor with one doorway. There’s only one bathroom at the moment, but I’m sure we could manage. The upstairs parts are quite separate, so you’d be totally private.’ His smile was teasing. ‘You can trust me not to jump your bones, Laura. I’m quite civilised, and I even know how to wash up.’

She hesitated, chewing her lip, and then shook her head. ‘I don’t think so—but thanks for asking.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m off duty. Amazing. The day’s gone.’

He laughed. ‘Been a long one?’ he asked sympathetically.

She chuckled. ‘Just a bit. How did you get on with Mrs Peacey?’

‘Evie?’ Gavin felt the smile leave his eyes. ‘She’s a mess—worse than the scanner led us to believe. She can’t have long. We removed what we could, but it was nothing like enough. She’s in ITU at the moment.

‘Isn’t it worth doing an aortic graft?’

He shook his head. ‘Too extensive. The tumour spreads all up the aorta almost to her heart. No, unfortunately Evie’s days are seriously numbered.’ He stood up, sliding the envelope into his pocket. ‘I’ll have a word with her before I go off duty, then if you’re sure I can’t persuade you I’ll go and put this advert on the noticeboard in the staff canteen.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll try the flats—but thanks again, anyway. I’m sure you’ll find someone.’

He felt a twinge of regret at her refusal, but he wasn’t going to push her. There was time. Maybe the flats would be vile. He crossed his fingers in his pocket. If he had to share his first proper home with someone, he could do a lot worse than this pretty, wary-eyed woman with the soft curves and sad, tentative smile. He’d just have to hope God was on his side.

The flats were vile. One backed, quite literally, on to a gasworks, the other was near the railway—very near. So near, in fact, that when a train went through she couldn’t hear the landlord speak.

Depressed, facing a twenty-mile journey twice a day or living in squalor in the seedy part of town, Laura climbed into her car, drove away from her last option without a backward glance and wondered what on earth she would do.

The town was almost devoid of accommodation to let—at least, accommodation that she could even remotely afford. Anything fit to live in was at least twice what she was able to pay, and even then she’d be buried alive in the town. She hated it—hated it with a passion. She’d been raised in the country, had lived in the country all her life, and the very thought of all those people pressing in around her gave her the heebie-jeebies.

There was only one option that appealed, and she wasn’t sure how serious he had been or how wise it would be to mix business and home life. One thing she was sure of, though: emotionally, Gavin wasn’t a threat. He hadn’t made any attempt to flirt with her, his friendliness had been utterly open and without strings, and she was sure—positive—that she could trust him.

Laura thought about Gavin’s offer, and on impulse went back to the hospital, found the card and copied down the number, then rang him before her courage ran out.

‘Hello, Gavin Jones,’ he said, and she took a deep breath and rushed in quickly, before she lost her nerve.

‘Gavin? It’s Laura—Laura Bailey from the hospital. Um—about your cottage. Were you serious?’

There was a second of startled silence, and then his voice, soft now, as if he was reassuring her. Of course I was serious. Do you want to come and have a look?’

She chewed her lip. ‘Could I?’

‘Sure. When?’

‘Tonight?’ Quickly, before she panicked and thought better of it—

‘That’s fine,’ he was saying. ‘Have you eaten?’

She laughed. ‘Eaten? No. I haven’t even changed out of my uniform yet.’

‘Well, why don’t you come over now and I’ll give you something to eat and a guided tour? I warn you, I’m no cook, but you’re welcome to share whatever I can find.’