Читать книгу The Doctor's Tender Secret - Kate Hardy - Страница 8

THE following Wednesday, Brad spotted his name on the staff notice-board. On a poster for Judith’s Wednesday Night Music Club, billing him as the ‘star guest’. And in bright pink highlighter pen, the words ‘Sold Out’ were printed neatly across the poster.

He went to find Zoe. ‘How many people are going to be there tonight?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘I’m not sure. People often give Holly the money for a ticket or the raffle, but don’t actually come to the show.’

‘How many tickets have you sold?’

At least she had the grace to blush. ‘A hundred and fifty. That’s the maximum we can have in the social club because of the fire regulations.’ She looked at him in dismay. ‘Please, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts. Not now.’

Second? He was having third—and fourth! ‘It’s been a while since I played in public.’ He coughed. ‘And you said there were usually only about thirty people there.’ There was a big difference between thirty and a hundred and fifty. Like five times as many.

‘They probably won’t all come.’

‘But you’ve sold more tickets than usual?’

‘Yes. Probably because of you—the curiosity factor,’ Zoe admitted. ‘But it’s for a good cause. It nets us tons of money for the wards. The social club does the bar and gives us half the profits for the night. And…’ She waved a paper bag at him. ‘Sample. As promised.’

‘I hope,’ Brad said through gritted teeth, ‘that bag contains chocolate brownies. In the plural.’

‘It does. Look, you’ll be fine. Just pretend you’re playing to an audience of one.’

He wished she hadn’t said that. Because right now he could imagine playing the piano to Zoe. By candlelight, or maybe moonlight. Just the two of them. Something soft and romantic and seductive.

No. Cool, calm and sensible, he reminded himself. ‘An audience of one.’ Damn. His voice was cracking. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. Or, if she had, that she’d put it down to nerves—he didn’t want her knowing how much of an effect she had on him. It would make her run a mile, and he wouldn’t blame her.

‘It’s a psychological technique. Jude uses it, too,’ Zoe said helpfully. ‘It usually works well. Or imagine all the people in the front row are naked or something.’

Naked. Did she have to use that word? Because if she was in the front row tonight…He dragged his thoughts back and grabbed the mental equivalent of a bucket of cold water. ‘Is your boyfriend helping out tonight?’

‘Mmm,’ Zoe mumbled. ‘Anyway, here are your brownies. I’ll, um, catch you later.’

She avoided him for the rest of the morning, though he seemed to keep coming across her wake, such as another sticker for Andy Solomon, earned for letting her take a blood sample without fuss, or the ‘bravery certificates’ she drew for a couple of other patients. He couldn’t find her in the afternoon, and discovered that she’d taken a half-day—presumably to finish cooking for the social evening.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the stage behind the piano, running sound checks with Judith. Zoe was somewhere around—he could feel it in his bones—but she seemed to be avoiding him. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. He hadn’t done anything to drive her away. Hadn’t touched her, hadn’t kissed her.

Though he’d wanted to. Lord, how he’d wanted to.

And he really shouldn’t want. It wasn’t fair on either of them.

‘Are you OK?’ Judith asked.

‘Just a bit nervous,’ he admitted.

‘You’ll be fine. Just imagine you’re singing to an audience of one. I usually sing to Holls or Zo, like I did when we shared a flat as students,’ Judith said.

They ran through a couple of songs. And the next thing he knew, the room was filling up with people. He couldn’t see Zoe anywhere. Though the hairs on the back of his neck told him that she was definitely around.

By the third song, Brad had forgotten his nerves. He joined Judith in a version of ‘American Pie’ that had everyone tapping their feet and singing along. From there, they launched into a couple of blues standards. And then someone requested ‘Fever’.

He sang along with Judith, but he couldn’t help scanning the crowd for one person. The one he finally saw right at the back of the room. The one who really did give him a fever, even though she shouldn’t.

He’d said he could sing a bit. Not that he had a voice that could melt your bones, Zoe thought. Deep and warm and soulful, blending perfectly with Judith’s husky jazz-singer tones. Just for a moment, she imagined herself as his audience of one. Imagined him singing just for her. Singing words of love.

She turned away and concentrated on doing the food. In the background, organising things. Just what she did best.

But then she froze as Brad launched into Van Morrison’s ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’. Judith may have been singing along with him, but she could only hear his voice. Singing about a girl with brown eyes. Brown eyes, like her own.

Worse still, someone requested another Van Morrison song, slowing the mood down with ‘Have I Told You Lately?’.

And she was lost.

Somehow—she wasn’t even aware of moving—she worked her way to the front of the crowd. Met Brad’s eyes over the top of the piano as he crooned the words.

Insane. He must be going completely insane. Zoe Kennedy was off limits. And here he was, singing one of the most romantic songs ever written. To her. And he really was singing just to her, not to the appreciative crowd.

She must know it. She had to know it. Why else would she be standing there at the front, smiling back at him?

Unless she was smiling at the boyfriend.

Brad scanned the room. He couldn’t see anyone who looked as though he was with Zoe. Nobody with his arm round her waist, holding her against him and humming those same words to her, a tribute to a woman who could wipe away his sadness and fill his heart with love. Zoe was standing there alone, looking at him. And Brad was looking right back at her.

Was Zoe the one who could wipe away his sadness?

It was stupid to feel jealous, Zoe told herself crossly. Jude was only singing with Brad to raise money. So why was she wishing that she was the one up on stage with him instead of her best friend? Why was she wishing that Brad and Jude didn’t look quite so good together? Why was she panicking that Jude might decide that her career wasn’t enough after all, and Brad was what she wanted? And that Brad would, of course, fall for the most gorgeous woman in the hospital, five feet eleven with legs up to her armpits, long red hair, clear skin and blue eyes, who sang like an angel and had a lot more in common with him than Zoe did?

This really, really wasn’t good. Zoe never panicked about men. Ever. She didn’t have a love life to upset her equilibrium; she didn’t do more than smile with her friends about the latest heart-throb actor or singer or sports star. So why was she feeling like this about Brad Hutton?

Then the music changed tempo again as someone requested something upbeat, fun and frothy. Relieved that she hadn’t quite made a fool of herself, Zoe escaped back to her table duties, topping up the empty platters from the boxes she’d stored in the kitchen cooler.

When the evening was over and the crowds had gone, Zoe started clearing up. A voice said beside her, ‘Anything I can do?’ and she dropped the stainless-steel dishes she was holding.

Lucky they weren’t glass, she thought as they clattered loudly onto the table.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ Brad said.

‘No. I was miles away. Just thinking about how well it went tonight.’

‘Did you make a lot?’

‘Dunno. Ask Holly—she’s doing the tally.’

‘Didn’t your boyfriend stick around to help?’

Zoe felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘He couldn’t make it tonight,’ she mumbled. Well, of course her boyfriend hadn’t been able to make it. He didn’t exist!

‘Do you want a hand with the washing-up?’

‘I’m fine. I’ve got a deal with the kitchen staff,’ she said. ‘They let me use the dishwasher in exchange for cake.’

‘You’ve really got a network here, haven’t you?’ he asked admiringly.

She shrugged. ‘I’m just part of the hospital. A small part.’

A big part, he’d say. Hurricane Zoe might be bossy, but her heart was solid gold and he hadn’t met a single person who didn’t adore her. Which was yet another reason why he should stay away from her. If he so much as laid a finger on her, most of London City General would be baying for his blood, as the man who’d wrecked her relationship and broken her heart.

And he’d hate himself just as much, for hurting her. For her sake, he had to stay away.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘You’ve done your bit. Look, I saved some food for you and Jude. You must be hungry. Go and eat.’

‘OK, boss,’ he said, and wandered over to join Judith and Holly. ‘How did we do?’ he asked Holly.

‘Brilliantly.’ Holly told him the total and his jaw dropped.

‘We made all that in one night?’

‘Donations, ticket sales and half the bar profits. Thanks to you.’

‘Hey. I’m not the one who set it up.’

‘No, but you were a good enough sport to let Zo persuade you into singing with Jude. And it takes a lot of nerve to stand up on stage and do what you did. I couldn’t do it.’

‘Here. Have one of Zo’s brownies,’ Judith offered. ‘Before I scoff them all. They’re seriously good.’

Brad decided not to admit he’d already had three—and that Zoe had brought them to the ward that morning, especially for him.

That she’d made them on his request.

‘Thanks.’ He took a brownie. ‘Mmm, you’re right, these are really good.’

‘Yet another of Zo’s talents. She’s good at everything,’ Judith said.

‘Except singing,’ Holly corrected with a grin. ‘She’s got a tin ear. Worse than mine!’

Brad didn’t care. He didn’t want Zoe to sing to him anyway. There were other, much more pleasurable things he could imagine her sweet mouth doing.

‘Is Zoe’s boyfriend a doctor?’ he asked, as casually as he could.

‘Zoe’s boyfriend?’ Judith asked, sounding mystified.

‘Mmm. The guy she hangs round with.’ He shouldn’t be asking. It was none of his business. But he couldn’t help wanting to know—wanting to be sure that the man Zoe loved deserved her. Her best friends would know that, wouldn’t they? ‘She said he couldn’t make it tonight—that he usually helps. Did he get called back to his ward or something?’

He saw the glance pass between Judith and Holly, and frowned. ‘What am I missing?’ Oh, no. Please. Don’t let her have fallen for a selfish jerk who resented the time she spent on other people and left her to do everything on her own.

‘Um, nothing,’ Judith said, a little too brightly.

‘You’re interested in our Zoe, aren’t you?’ Holly asked.

Brad swallowed. Was it that obvious? ‘What makes you think that?’ he prevaricated.

‘Because you were singing to her tonight,’ Judith said.

Brad rubbed his hand across his face. Hell. It really was that obvious. Judith and Holly knew, too. ‘I…um…’

As if she’d guessed his worries, Holly added, ‘Don’t worry. No one else noticed. We only did because—Ow.’ She rubbed her ankle.

‘Because what?’ Brad asked. Had Zoe said something to them about him?

‘Because we’re her best friends,’ Judith said.

Maybe he’d got it wrong. He backtracked, fast. ‘Look, I’m not going to hurt her. I promise. I know she’s in love with this boyfriend of hers and I’m not going to interfere.’

‘For a consultant,’ Holly said, ‘you’re not very bright, are you?’

Brad frowned again. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Zoe doesn’t have a boyfriend,’ Judith told him quietly.

This didn’t make sense. Not at all. ‘But why would she say she did, when she doesn’t?’

‘Because she—’ Holly stopped and glared at Judith.

Whatever she’d been about to say, Brad thought, Judith had guessed and hadn’t wanted Holly to tell him. She’d obviously kicked Holly under the table to stop her talking. ‘What?’ he pressed.

Holly shrugged. ‘Maybe she thinks having a relationship means that no one will take her seriously in her career.’

‘So she’s single.’

‘Yes,’ Judith confirmed.

‘And you think she’d be interested in me? If I…?’ Brad’s thoughts were whirling. Zoe wasn’t seeing anyone else. Zoe wasn’t off limits. They could…

‘Just talk to her,’ Holly said.

Talk to her. Talk to her. Well, that was easier said than done, Brad thought two days later. Zoe refused point-blank to have a personal conversation with him. She’d spend any amount of time with him discussing patients or treatments or clinical protocol, but the minute he tried to switch the conversation onto a more personal level, she switched it right back.

‘Are you busy tonight?’ he asked her.

Zoe picked up a file. ‘I was wondering about PKU,’ she said.

‘PKU?’

‘Phenylketonuria. A genetic enzyme deficiency.’

He smiled. ‘I know what PKU is.’

‘I had a patient today. A little girl, fifteen months old. She was very fair, though both her parents were dark. She has eczema. And she’s not talking much—she’s hardly babbling. She pushes other children away if they go anywhere near her. And I was wondering if the developmental delay could be a side-effect of PKU.’

‘I thought all newborns were screened here for PKU?’

‘They are. Well, they’re supposed to be. You know some always slip through the net,’ Zoe said.

‘Hmm. Did she smell a bit odd—a bit like mice?’

Zoe nodded. ‘And the fairness, given her parents’ colouring—I wondered if it was tyrosine deficiency.’ With PKU, the body didn’t have enough phenylalanine hydroxylase so it could only convert some of the amino acid phenylalanine into tyrosine. Phenylalanine then built up in the blood and brain, and could cause severe damage.

‘So what’s the plan?’

‘I did a blood sample to check her plasma levels of phenylalanine and tyrosine. If they’re low…I’d say it’s PKU. I know you’ve done a lot of work on paediatric endocrinology. I wondered if you’d oversee the tests and treatment.’

‘Sure. If you’re right, the parents are going to have to learn to read labels and cut out anything with aspartame in it—phenylalanine’s one of its main components, and it’s in some medicines as well as sweetened foods and soft drinks. And you’ll need to bring in a dietician—they’ll have to cut out high-protein foods and restrict starches. A slice of bread can contain over half a day’s intake of phenylalanine.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘She’ll need dietary supplements for essential amino acids, vitamins and minerals, and she’ll need specially formulated substitute for protein foods. She’ll probably also have some attention problems, even with treatment.’

‘And if they don’t treat it or let her snack on chips and high-protein foods?’

‘They’ll start seeing behaviour problems, and she’ll have problems coping with school.’

‘When’s it safe to drop the diet?’ Zoe asked.

‘In theory, once the brain has finished growing and developing. But it’s pretty controversial—I’d say right now it’s a long-term thing. For the rest of her life. And especially if she decides to have a family when she’s older—during pregnancy, if she doesn’t keep her levels stable it’ll expose the foetus to high levels of phenylalanine, which could cause birth defects, brain damage, or even a miscarriage.’

Good. It had worked. She’d headed him away from personal subjects and onto something safe.

She was just starting to relax again when he said, ‘So what are you doing tonight?’

Cleaning the house. Tackling the ironing mountain. Anything to stop herself thinking about Brad Hutton. ‘I’m meeting Tom.’

‘Tom?’

‘My boyfriend. The one I was telling you about,’ she gabbled.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have a boyfriend.’

How did he know? Unless…No. Judith and Holly wouldn’t have told him. Surely they wouldn’t. ‘Yes, I do,’ she lied.

‘Zoe—’

‘And I’d better get going or I’ll be late for our date. It’s Friday night, after all. See you later.’ And she left before he had a chance to say anything else.