Читать книгу Mistletoe Proposal On The Children's Ward / Taming Her Hollywood Playboy - Kate Hardy - Страница 14

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 actually 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.

Her heart gave another of those ridiculous little skips when Jamie saw her and lifted a hand in acknowledgement. Oh, for pity’s sake. She needed to get a grip.

‘Hey. Thanks for coming,’ she said as she reached him.

He inclined his head. ‘How was your day?’ he asked.

‘Full of babies with bronchiolitis. There’s a whole bay reserved just for our RSV-positive patients, poor little loves,’ she said. ‘Though I feel even sorrier for the parents.’

‘Because the babies can’t tell them how they feel, and they’re tired and not eating well, and the parents are feeling utterly helpless because they can’t do anything to make their babies feel better,’ he said.

‘That,’ she said before she could stop herself, ‘sounds like personal experience.’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Observation. I did my paediatrics rotation at this time of year, and I remember what it was like.’

But she knew she’d asked something a bit too personal. She’d better switch the subject back to work. ‘What made you become a surgeon?’ she asked.

‘I really enjoyed my surgical rotation,’ he said. ‘And I like working with children. Making a difference. How about you?’

‘It was a toss-up between obstetrics and paediatrics,’ she said. ‘Helping to bring a new life into the world—that’s so special and I loved every minute. And actually delivering a baby was so wonderful. But then I did my paediatrics rotation at Christmas, and that decided me. It’s where I feel I can make the most difference, so that’s why I chose the specialty.’ She smiled at him. ‘So. Shall we?’ She gestured to the park.

Jamie really didn’t want to do this.

But he’d had the best part of two days to come up with a reasonable excuse, and he hadn’t found one. Plus, part of him wanted to be able to handle Christmas again without making his family miserable. For the last three years, he’d chosen to work over the festive season rather than join in with the family celebrations, and he used work as an excuse not to see them very often in between.

He felt guilty for not spending time with them; but whenever he was with them, it was always so obvious how much they were trying hard not to say the wrong thing. He knew they worried about him, but he found it suffocating when they wrapped him in cotton wool. Being in a family situation reminded him so much of what he’d lost, and Christmas magnified it to the point where it was too much to handle. He knew he needed to make the effort. Just… This was going to be painful. Like picking at a scab. Bit by bit.

Facing Christmas.

The time of year he dreaded.

His doubts must’ve shown on his face, because she said gently, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

No. He wasn’t sure at all.

She took his hand and squeezed it briefly. ‘Look, we don’t have to walk around the Winter Festival. We can, I dunno, go back to the high street and grab something to eat, or get a takeaway and go back to mine to chill out with some old comedies on TV—and then you can meet George.’

‘George?’ That got his attention. He was sure Anna had said she didn’t have a partner. Or did she have a child? Was she a single mum? He hadn’t heard any rumours on the ward, but then again he always closed his ears to gossip. ‘Who’s George?’

‘George the Gorgeous Goldfish.’

He looked at her, not quite sure he’d heard that correctly. ‘George is your goldfish?’

‘Gorgeous goldfish,’ she corrected. ‘Yes.’

It was so incongruous that he couldn’t help smiling. ‘George the Gorgeous Goldfish,’ he repeated.

‘That’s right. Obviously it’s not quite like having a dog, because he doesn’t stick his chin on my knee and look up at me with big brown adoring eyes, and he doesn’t want to go for walks in the park or play ball. But I talk to him and he likes my singing.’

Singing to a goldfish.

That definitely wasn’t what he’d expected to hear her say.

It was so surreal that he found himself smiling and walking into the park with her.

And then somehow they were right in the middle of the Christmas fair, strolling up and down the path lined by little wooden pop-up shacks selling food, drink, Christmas decorations and every kind of gift you could think of, from candles to cosmetics to jewellery to hand-knitted Christmas jumpers. There were fairy lights draped over the roofs of the shacks, and garlands of greenery.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ she said, ‘because I’m ravenous. I didn’t get time for lunch.’

‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ he pointed out.

‘Which is too early for dinner, but I need a Christmas cookie and a hot chocolate right now to keep my blood sugar level.’ She grinned at him. ‘Which I admit is just a terrible excuse, because I love hot chocolate and cookies.’ She found a hot drink stall, tucked her arm into his and queued up. ‘This one’s on me,’ she said.

He accepted a coffee; she dithered about having extra cream on top of her hot chocolate, but then said, ‘No, because I’ll have another one later, laced with cream liqueur.’

Just how long did she intend to spend at the fair? he wondered, but didn’t ask.

Next was a cookie in the shape of a star, studded with chips of butterscotch. ‘Perfect,’ she said after the first bite. ‘You have to try this, Jamie.’ She broke off one of the arms of the star and handed it to him.

He had no real choice but to eat it.

When was the last time he’d eaten something and really tasted it, instead of it being simply fuel? This was delicious: buttery and sugary, zinging along his tastebuds. ‘It’s good,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘And now—shopping,’ she said. ‘I need some stocking-fillers.’

‘You’re not buying your Secret Santa present for the ward, are you?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already got that,’ she said. ‘Though you might find something here.’

‘But then you’ll know whose name I drew when they unwrap it,’ he pointed out.

‘True,’ she said. ‘OK. We’ll do this methodically. We’ll go all the way along each row and back up again, and then I’ll decide what I’m getting. I have four sisters-in-law.’

He blinked. ‘You’re one of five?’

‘The middle one,’ she said. ‘Two older brothers, a younger brother and a younger sister. All married, and all with children.’

Was it his imagination, or did a shadow just cross her face? He knew she wasn’t married and he was pretty sure she didn’t have children. But was that by choice?

‘And I got to be best woman at my sister Jojo’s wedding to Becky,’ she said with a smile. ‘Which was so cool. How about you?’

‘Youngest of three. Two older sisters,’ he said. ‘Both married with children.’

‘Being an aunt,’ she said, ‘is fabulous, because I get pictures drawn for me all the time and there’s always someone to play games with or read stories to or cuddle.’ She smiled. ‘We had the best family holiday ever, this summer—we all stayed at a villa in Tuscany, with Mum and Dad. And, even though we’ve got very different interests between us, we’ve also got enough in common to get on really well together. I know they always say the middle child is the peacemaker, but fortunately I don’t have to be.’

He’d guessed right from when he’d first met Anna that she was part of a huge family; she had that confidence about her, that surety of being loved by everyone and being able to talk to anyone. She clearly adored her family, and it made Jamie feel guilty for pushing his away. He did love his parents and his sisters and his nieces and nephews; but he hated how everyone seemed to alternately tread on eggshells around him or try to jolly him into moving on. So he’d reasoned that it was easier for everyone if he tucked himself out of the way and buried himself in work, and the distance between them seemed to stretch more with every day.

‘Uh-huh,’ he said.

‘So how old are your nieces and nephews?’ she asked.

‘Between six and ten,’ he said. And now he felt even more guilty. Anna was clearly a very hands-on aunt. Just as Hestia had been; she’d always been happy to play games with Josh, Caitlin, Dylan and Layla, and she’d had a stock of books about ballerinas that she’d read to all four of them, saying that ballet wasn’t just for girls. She’d even taught them all some steps, and the kids had loved putting on performances on family Sunday afternoons. She’d taken them to performances, too, and they’d all been spellbound by The Nutcracker. Especially when they’d seen their auntie Hestia dancing on the stage, pirouetting and leaping.

He’d been a hands-on uncle, too, back in those days. He’d read stories, built train tracks and done pretend tea parties with teddies. Hestia’s death had meant that the children had lost their uncle as well as their aunt, and he felt bad about that. For their sakes, he should’ve made more of an effort.

He’d start with Christmas, he decided. This Christmas.

He’d let Anna help him face Christmas again and get his family back; and in turn he’d help her by playing Father Christmas for the ward. OK, so he wasn’t ever going to get to the stage where he could open his heart to another partner, but he knew his family deserved much better than this. He needed to change. And he needed help to do it; on his own, he knew he’d just back away again because it was too hard to face.

‘Mine are a little bit younger—Will’s the oldest, at eight, and Ivy’s the baby. Literally, because she’s six months old next week,’ Anna said. ‘Mum and Dad managed to space us all two years apart, and it seems to be a tradition in my generation that you get to thirty and have a baby.’

Except for her? There was a definite shadow in her eyes now, Jamie thought, but it felt like prying to ask. He didn’t want to hurt her, not when she was being so kind and sweet.

She gave him a super-bright smile. ‘I’ve already bought and wrapped all their main presents so, as I said, I’m looking for stocking-fillers.’

‘You’ve already bought and wrapped everything? But it’s only November,’ he said.

‘It’s December next weekend,’ she corrected. ‘Being organised means I get to find the perfect presents without any pressure and I also have the time to wrap them. My oldest brother refuses to go shopping until the day before Christmas Eve.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That’d drive me bananas, dealing with the heaving crowds and risking having to rethink what I’m buying because what I want is out of stock.’

‘So you’re a planner?’

‘Better believe it,’ she said with a grin. ‘I have spreadsheets, the lot. I keep a file of exactly what I’ve bought and for whom. It means I don’t accidentally buy the same thing twice for one of my nieces and nephews—or buy the same book for one of the siblings, unless it’s one that’s been loved to bits and I’m replacing it.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps you can help me look for something.’

Christmas shopping.

Hestia had loved Christmas shopping. She’d loved wrapping the presents, too, all ribbons and bows and garlands. Since her death, Jamie had bought mainly gift vouchers as presents; if he had bought an actual gift, he’d done it online and chosen the ‘wrap it for me’ option rather than doing it himself.

Now he realised how impersonal his actions must have seemed to his family, and he felt ashamed. They loved him and they missed Hestia, too. They’d all felt the loss of the little girl who hadn’t had the chance to join them. He should’ve let them grieve with him instead of pushing them away.

‘Perhaps you can help me, too,’ he suggested.

She beamed. ‘I’d love to. Buying presents is my favourite thing in the world. Right. Tell me all about your nieces and nephews.’

Uh… How did he admit that he didn’t have a clue? That he’d let so much distance creep in between himself and his family that he didn’t know what the kids were interested in any more? And children changed so much at their ages. ‘Dylan’s ten, Layla and Josh are eight, and Caitlin’s six.’

‘Are the girls super-girly? And do they have long hair or short?’ she asked. ‘Because hair ties and hair slides always go down well. Megan’s six and anything heart-shaped or glittery gets pounced on with absolute glee.’

‘Heart-shaped and glittery,’ he said. That hadn’t occurred to him. ‘I think that would be good.’

‘And art stuff. My nieces love paints and pens and notebooks. And books. I know they’ve got a fabulous bookstall here. Do Dylan and Josh like reading?’

‘I think so,’ he said carefully.

‘Let me show you Will’s favourite—he’s the same age as your Josh. And the bookstall people might have a good idea for something suitable for Dylan,’ she said.

Between them, they bought bangles and hair slides and scrunchies from the accessory stall, then moved on to look at the scented candles. Anna pounced on one for her mother. ‘Look at this!’ she said gleefully. ‘Put a tealight in the middle, and the heat makes the carousel spin round with six filigree owls dangling down. My mum loves owls, so she’ll adore this.’

He ended up with organic bath bombs and body butter for his mother and his sisters, ale from a microbrewery for his father and his brothers-in-law, books for all four nieces and nephews, a wooden duck with red Wellington boots for Caitlin, and a beautifully carved and painted wooden turtle for Layla, who he remembered loving the sea life centre when she was younger.

‘What do you get an eight-year-old and a ten-year-old boy?’ he asked.

‘Once you get them off the games console?’ she asked. ‘I’ve already bought Will one of those mini planetarium projectors. I think I saw something similar on one of the stalls earlier.’

‘I think Josh would like that, too,’ he said.

‘And I’m on the look-out for one of the magic science kits—the ones where you use all sorts of household objects to do tricks,’ she said. ‘Like adding vinegar to bicarb soda and a bit of food colouring to make lava.’

‘I think that would go down well with Dylan,’ Will said thoughtfully.

Once they’d finished their shopping, she looked at him. ‘Wrapping paper?’ she asked.

Jamie shook his head. ‘I don’t wrap.’

She grinned. ‘Considering what you do for a living, you really can’t get away with the excuse of not being neat enough.’

He couldn’t help smiling back. ‘There’s a big difference between surgical stitching and wrapping awkward parcels.’

‘Excuses, excuses, Mr Thurston,’ she teased, and made him buy beautiful gift bags and tissue paper.

It was the first time in three years that he’d actually enjoyed something to do with Christmas. His family were all going to be in shock, he thought, when he handed over actual presents instead of the usual envelopes containing gift vouchers. But a good shock. And he might even brave going to see them after his shift on Christmas Day this year, instead of relying on his usual excuse of work. Thanks to Anna’s advice, he was pretty sure that the kids were going to love the stocking-fillers he’d bought them.

Anna was prepared and had several foldable shopping bags in her handbag, a couple of which she lent to Jamie. The least he could do in return was offer to carry her purchases, too. And together they wandered through the fair.

There was a huge Ferris wheel at one end, all lit up, with people queueing for a ride.

‘Do you want to go up on that?’ she asked.

He nodded at their parcels. ‘Probably not with this lot.’

But then he saw the carousel. Parents were lifting tiny children onto one of the carved wooden horses, and a fairground organ was playing Christmas songs and Christmas carols. Jamie could see the wonder on the little ones’ faces as they went round and round on the horses. If life had happened the way it was supposed to, Giselle would’ve been nearly three and the perfect age for enjoying this.

He was coping with this. Just.

But then the song changed. To the one he couldn’t avoid. ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’ The song Hestia had loved so much. She’d even got her ballet class to do a special routine to it…

Cold stole through him, and it wasn’t just the temperature outside now the sun had set. This was a bone-deep thing. The misery was back. Big time.

As if she noticed, she said softly, ‘Time to find dinner. What would you like?’

‘Anything.’

She bit her lip. ‘Sorry. I’ve pushed you too far today, haven’t I?’

‘No. You’ve… It’s helped,’ he said. And it had, until he’d seen the carousel and heard that music, and loss had ripped through him again.

‘When I feel low,’ she said, ‘I pick things that make me feel good. Decent food—not junk, something really nutritious—music, and some fresh air. Let’s go get something to eat.’

Again, she hadn’t pushed him to talk and she definitely wasn’t prying. But the fact that she’d admitted she felt low at times made him realise that she understood how he was feeling right now. So he followed her away from the Ferris wheel and the carousel towards the food stalls.

‘OK. Do you have any food allergies, and are you vegetarian?’ she asked.

‘No allergies, and I eat pretty much anything,’ he said.

‘All righty. We could have Christmas dinner in a burrito,’ she said. ‘Or a calzone with turkey, cranberry and cheese filling.’

‘What would you prefer?’ he asked, suddenly curious.

‘My go-to comfort food is macaroni cheese,’ she said. ‘But I know it’s not the best thing in the world, so I try to mix some greens and some veg in with it, to balance it out a bit.’

‘I don’t notice what I eat,’ he admitted. Since Hestia’s death, he’d seen food just as fuel and not as a pleasure.

‘My best friend made me do mindfulness,’ she said. ‘I thought it was all hype, and I admit I’ve really mocked the stuff where you’re supposed to eat a single raisin and take ages over it. It’s so extreme. But there is a point to it. If you pay attention and notice things like colour and texture and scent, it does help to ground you a bit and it takes your mind off whatever’s dragging you down. It’s a kind of breathing space.’ She shrugged. ‘Plus I happen to know a stall here where they do really, really excellent macaroni cheese.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘sounds good to me.’

‘And I know this isn’t the greatest nutrition, considering how I’ve just been banging on about healthy food,’ she said, ‘but last year there was a stall here that did churros covered in glitter sugar. Which I think would be perfect with a hot chocolate. And I am so planning to have that second one today.’

‘These,’ he said, ‘are on me. Let’s find a table.’

Anna sat thinking when Jamie left her with their shopping and queued up to get their food. That moment when he’d gone all brooding on her by the carousel, when they’d seen parents lifting their small children onto the horses, made her sure that whatever was hurting him was something to do with a child.

Yet every day he worked with sick children. How could he bear it, if it ripped his heart in two all the time?

They barely knew each other, and she knew she shouldn’t push him to talk—especially because then he might start asking awkward questions of his own. Such as why she wasn’t like the rest of her siblings, happily married and having children when she got to thirty.

On the other hand, talking to a stranger and getting a different perspective on things might help him.

Or maybe she should just stop being such an interfering busybody.

‘Penny for them?’ Jamie asked, coming to sit opposite her and sliding a cardboard tray of macaroni cheese with spinach, complete with a wooden fork, across the table to her.

‘My thoughts aren’t worth a penny,’ she said, not wanting to hurt him by being nosy. ‘Thank you. This looks fabulous.’ She took a mouthful. ‘And it tastes even better.’ She noticed that he’d chosen the same.

‘This was a really good choice,’ he said after the first mouthful.

‘Though I’m buying us churros,’ she said. ‘And hot chocolate laced with that cream liqueur.’

‘So do you come to the Christmas fair here every year?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘And it’s got bigger every year. Usually I do it as a girly thing, either with my best friend or my sister and sisters-in-law.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you could say you’re an honorary girl today.’

‘Hence the churros with glitter sugar,’ he said dryly.

‘Wait until you try them,’ she said. ‘I recommend the cinnamon glitter sugar. And I want to go back and get some of the Christmas candles. The ones that smell of orange and cinnamon and cloves—and they’re for me, because I love candles at this time of year. Me, Gorgeous George, a good movie, some popcorn and a candle: that’s a perfect night in.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For pushing me into doing this.’

‘So you’re not hating every minute of it?’ she checked.

‘Not every minute,’ he said. ‘I’ve done my Christmas shopping and the food’s good.’

‘So what’s the hardest thing about Christmas?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer, and she was about to squeeze his hand and apologise for prying when he said quietly, ‘The music. Certain songs. I…’ He grimaced and shook his head.

‘OK. So we’ll try to avoid music for the future.’ At least until he was more comfortable with other aspects of the holiday season. ‘Can I ask—modern or carols?’

‘Modern,’ he said.

‘I’ll try to remember,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to make this hard for you, Jamie. I want to help make things better.’

‘You are,’ he said. ‘And seeing how much you love Christmas—I’m beginning to understand.’

‘Just wait for the glitter churros,’ she said.

Clearly he thought she’d been exaggerating to tease him, because when she came back from buying their hot chocolates and churros, she saw his beautiful cornflower-blue eyes widen. ‘They really are glittery.’

‘They started doing them last year. I’m on a mission to persuade the hospital canteen to start stocking them and I don’t care if they’re bad for your teeth—they’re so lovely and uplifting,’ she said with a grin. She set the box between them, and their paper cups of hot chocolate on either side. ‘Sorry. I forgot to ask if you wanted cream on top.’

‘It’s fine without,’ he said.

And it was fine, until her fingers brushed against his while they were dipping the churros into the pot of chocolate sauce. Her skin tingled where he touched her: which was ridiculous. They were colleagues, just about starting to become friends. She knew they both had baggage that would get in the way of anything else, so she really had to get a grip instead of letting herself give in to fantasies that just couldn’t ever happen.

Or she could blame her feelings on the sugar rush of the churros.

Because nothing remotely romantic was going to happen between herself and Jamie Thurston.

She hauled herself back under control and made light conversation until they’d finished eating.

‘Guess it’s time to go home,’ she said. ‘George will be wondering where I am.’

‘I hate to put a downer on you, but don’t goldfish have a memory of about three seconds?’ Jamie asked.

‘Actually, no. My nephew Will did a summer project on goldfish last year. He spent ages researching on the Internet, and then he did a flashy presentation for me. Apparently, there’s a university study where goldfish learned to press a lever to dispense food. The researchers changed it so the lever would only work for one certain hour a day, and the fish learned to press the lever during that one-hour window so they’d get the food. And in another study the researchers rang a bell at feeding time for a month, released the fish into the sea, then played the sound five months later and the fish came straight back, expecting their dinner.’

‘Like Pavlov’s dog—Pavlov’s fish?’ Jamie asked.

‘Exactly. George knows my routine.’ She smiled. ‘So I’d better make a move. Thanks for coming to the Christmas fair with me.’

‘It wasn’t as hard as I expected,’ Jamie admitted.

‘Good. So tomorrow you’re going to give me your menu choices for the ward’s Christmas meal,’ she said. ‘And are you free on Thursday evening?’

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe we can go skating on Thursday. Shall I book tickets for eight o’clock?’

He took a deep breath. ‘OK. My aversion therapy for Christmas continues. Are you good at skating?’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

‘Better than bowling?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be mean. Are you good at skating, then?’

‘I’m taking the Fifth on that one.’

‘You can’t. You’re not American,’ she pointed out. ‘Can you skate, or do I need to find out if they have an adult version of those penguins they use for toddlers?’

To her delight, he actually laughed. ‘I am not going to a skating rink and holding on to a ginormous penguin.’

‘Oh, good. So you can skate. I’ll be expecting flashy moves, you know. Axle jumps, swizzles and twizzles, and camel spins.’

He looked at her. ‘Did you just make those up?’

‘Nope. I can assure you, they’re all real moves.’

He looked horrified. ‘So you’re practically a professional skater.’

She took pity on him. ‘More like I love watching that show when they have celebs learning to skate with the pros, and I’ve picked up all the lingo from there.’ Then she frowned. ‘Actually, that’s a point. There’s going to be music at any skating rink in London, and I promised you we’d avoid music. Would you rather we did something else?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but isn’t the point of aversion therapy to face the thing that makes you uncomfortable?’

‘It is,’ she agreed, ‘but I don’t want to push you so far out of your comfort zone that you run back to the centre at the speed of light and never come out again.’

‘We’ll go skating,’ he said.

‘And if it gets too much for you, then we can leave,’ she said. ‘Even if it’s in the middle of a song.’

‘That’s a more than fair compromise. Thank you. I’ll walk you home,’ he said, and carried her parcels all the way back to her gate.

‘You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of coffee and to meet George,’ she said.

‘Another time, maybe,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘See you.’ And funny how his smile made her feel all warm inside.