Risk of a Lifetime

‘Forget it. I’ll get myself another one. Look, why don’t you go and change and we’ll go over there together and I’ll buy you lunch?’

‘Do you have time?’

That wasn’t what she’d meant to say! No, no, no! She should have told him it wasn’t necessary and she’d rather be alone!

Her mouth, however, didn’t seem to be under her control any more, and he cornered her with his next words.

‘I’ve got time. I wasn’t going to bother to eat, but as it’s quiet—’

‘Shush! What is it with everyone today?’

He grinned, his mouth kicking up on one side, and she felt her insides turn over.

‘Go on, hurry up, get changed and we’ll grab a sandwich and eat it in the park. Shoo.’

* * *

She must be mad.

She dabbed the coffee out of her bra—thankfully not a moulded-cup T-shirt bra but just a thin lace one—squashed it dry with paper towels, then pulled on the clean scrubs. It would dry off in time, and she didn’t have any choice.

She checked herself in the mirror, then headed back outside and found him propped against the wall of the building on his phone. He glanced at her, nodded and ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

‘Better?’

‘I’ll do.’

‘I really am sorry.’

‘As you were kind enough to point out, I ran into you—although technically I wasn’t running.’

‘Almost, but I wasn’t looking where I was going. Why don’t we call it quits?’ he said with a wry grin, and ushered her into the cafе. Two minutes later they were sitting outside on a bench and ripping open sandwich packets.

‘Coronation chicken or tuna?’

‘Don’t care. I just want to eat it before my pager goes off.’

He split them, handed her one of each and tore open the potato crisps, and she put their coffee down carefully on the bench between them and bit into the first sandwich.

‘So, Annie Brooks, tell me all about yourself,’ he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘All?’

He grinned. ‘Well, obviously not all. I don’t need to know when you started your periods or what grade you got for your A levels—’

‘Thirteen, and three As. You?’

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘OK. Three As and a B. And I’m still waiting. My mother said it might be a while.’

It was her turn to laugh.

‘OK. I’m...single,’ she said, reluctant to use the word when it wasn’t technically true, because she was definitely in a relationship, albeit with her children. But there didn’t seem to be a box to tick for ‘was engaged to a philandering adulterer who legged it before I could tell him I was pregnant’ so it was hard to find a more appropriate word. And for some reason she didn’t want to tell him about all that.

‘I trained in London, at King’s, and then I worked in various London hospitals, and I’m thirty-six and this is my first consultancy. I work part time, job sharing with Andy, and I work four days a week. Your turn.’

‘OK. I’m thirty-two, single, I trained in Nottingham and I’ve worked in Cambridge and London. My last job was in Great Ormond Street and I’m angling for a consultancy there.’

‘Ah. Hence the Paeds.’

‘Indeed. And I’m definitely full time. With bells on. So, that’s the work thing. How about the rest? Favourite colour, music, film...’

‘OK, my favourite colour is green, I’m vegetarian, a member of Greenpeace, my favourite food is—’

‘Don’t tell me. Peas. Or spinach? Green beans?’

She couldn’t suppress the smile. ‘You guessed.’

‘I sensed a green theme going on and I know for a fact you were lying about being a vegetarian, because you’re eating a chicken sandwich.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘OK. No more prying. Although I wasn’t, really.’

She conceded the point and opened up a little. ‘Actually, my favourite colour probably is green. Look over there at the new leaves on the trees, that brilliant acid green. Isn’t that the most wonderful colour? So full of hope and promise.’

He looked, and with a soft sigh he nodded, his smile somehow sad. ‘Yes. Yes, it is,’ he said quietly. ‘So, if it’s not too personal, why are you here, in Yoxburgh?’

‘Because my family’s here,’ she said honestly but without elaboration. ‘You?’

‘Ditto,’ he said, but there was a shadow in his eyes.

There was a question, as yet unformed, poised on the tip of her tongue when their pagers both beeped.

He pulled his out, glanced at it and stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth as he sprinted for the door, leaving her to deal with the debris of their lunch.

She left their half-finished drinks. She’d had enough coffee-related incidents today without risking another one. It was only when she joined him in Resus and he glanced down at her chest and grinned that she saw the damp imprint of lace on her scrub top. And her nipples, chilly from the light breeze over the damp fabric, had peaked enthusiastically.

She arched a brow primly, covered her top with an apron and pulled on some gloves.

‘So, what have we got?’ she asked him, all efficiency.

‘This is Elizabeth. She slipped and fell over the edge of the kerb. She’s got an open tib and fib on the right and query Colles’ of the left radius and ulna. She’s stable, she’s had five of morphine on the way in and I’ve just given her another five, and she’s very coherent, aren’t you, Elizabeth?’

‘Am I? I don’t feel very coherent. That morphine’s lovely,’ she slurred.

‘Good. We’re just waiting for X-rays to confirm the fractures. Would you do me a favour, Annie, and check the pulse in that foot? I think it’s looking a bit pale.’

‘Sure.’

It was. Pale, cold and she didn’t like the look of it.

‘I’ve got a pulse, but it’s weak.’