Читать книгу Perfect Proposals Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 40

CHAPTER THREE

THIS wasn’t a date, Katrina reminded herself as she walked from the playroom to Rhys’s office. It was the beginning of a working relationship. And, as she’d told Madison, she was perfectly happy with her life the way it was.

She rapped on Rhys’s open door and leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Ready?’

He looked up from his computer. ‘Can you give me three minutes while I save this file and switch off the computer?’

He was as good as his word, saving the file immediately, logging off then and switching off the machine. ‘So where are we going?’ he asked as he stood up.

‘Do you like Moroccan food?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. There’s a really fabulous Moroccan restaurant a couple of streets from here called Mezze—Maddie and I go there a lot.’

‘Maddie? Ah, now I know why you looked familiar when I first met you. Madison Gregory in Maternity—she’s your sister?’

‘As good as, yes,’ Katrina said. ‘Technically, she’s my cousin, but our dads have a family business and our mums are best friends, so we grew up together.’ She laughed. ‘Because she’s two years older than I am, Maddie likes to point out that she’s the big sister. Even though she’s still shorter than I am when she’s wearing spike heels and I’m barefoot, bless her.’ She paused. ‘What about you—do you have any brothers or sisters?’

‘I’m an only child.’

His voice was neutral, but Katrina was used to watching faces and picking up visual clues to compensate for years of not quite being able to hear someone’s tone. She was sure that Rhys was masking something. Though as they were still getting to know each other, now wasn’t the time to push him to talk to her, the way she would have pushed Will or Tim or any of the nursing staff on the ward.

She kept the conversation light until they reached Mezze. As they walked in, Rhys took in their surroundings—the rich saffron walls, the ruby and terracotta silk cushions, the tealight candles in stained-glass holders in the centre of the glass- topped tables. Katrina thought he looked as impressed as she’d felt when she and Madison had first discovered the restaurant.

‘Good evening, Katrina. Your usual table?’ the waiter asked.

‘Thanks, Hassan. That’d be lovely.’

When they were settled at a table with menus and had ordered a sparkling mineral water, Rhys raised an eyebrow. ‘I know you said you come here a lot…but the staff here actually know you by name?’

‘I love Moroccan food,’ she said simply. ‘Maddie hates cooking, so we tend to come here most weeks. Either here, or there’s a really fabulous pizzeria in the next street.’

‘So you know the menu well.’ His eyes took on a teasing glint. ‘Or are you boring and pick the same thing each week?’

‘I tend to choose the same pudding, I admit,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I’ve tried everything on the menu.’ And there was a long, long list of dishes.

‘So what do you recommend?’

Katrina leaned back against her chair. ‘We could be boring, and order a starter each and a main course. Or…’ She paused. ‘We could order a huge pile of starters and share it like a mezze.’

He laughed. ‘I can guess which you’d prefer. A huge pile of starters it is.’

She talked him through the menu and when Hassan brought their drinks over they were ready to order a selection.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ Katrina said when Hassan had gone.

Rhys shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. I’m Welsh—well, with a name like Rhys Morgan and my accent, that’s pretty obvious. I grew up in South Wales, I trained in Cardiff and I moved to London just over three weeks ago.’

That didn’t tell her much about him at all—his dreams, his passions in life—but before she had the chance to ask anything else, he said, ‘Your turn.’

‘I’m English, I grew up in Suffolk and I trained in London.’ The same bare facts that he’d given her. Although maybe telling him more might encourage him to open up to her, she decided. ‘I never wear pink—my cousin Maddie has the girly gene in the family—and I loathe the romantic comedies she insists on dragging me to.’ She smiled wryly. ‘She hates the kind of films I like. And going to an arthouse cinema on my own feels a bit…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, I prefer to go with someone so I can talk about the film afterwards. That’s half the fun of a cinema trip.’

‘What would you define as arthouse films?’ he queried.

‘This is where you can officially label me weird,’ she said. ‘Not modern ones—really old ones. Films like Citizen Kane and Vertigo. I have a bit of a soft spot for film noir.’

‘Good choice,’ he said. ‘I really like the ones written by Cornell Woolrich as well as the Raymond Chandler films.’

She blinked, then fiddled with her hearing aid. ‘Nope, it’s working,’ she said. ‘Tell me—did I imagine it or did you really just say “Cornell Woolrich”?’

‘I did.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve got all his short stories, too. I discovered them when I was a teenager and loved them—mind you, after one particular story it took me two years before I could order lamb again. And in a Welsh pub that’s a bit difficult.’

She laughed, knowing exactly which story he meant—a tale with a twist that had had exactly the same effect on her. ‘I think,’ Katrina said, ‘you and I are going to get on very well together.’

He lifted his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

Her fingers brushed against his as they clinked glasses, and that same weird awareness she’d felt when she’d first shaken his hand seemed to fizz through her body.

An awareness she wasn’t going to act on. She already knew first-hand what happened when you dated a colleague and it went wrong. The awkwardness of having to work together afterwards, trying not to think about just how intimately you knew each other. The embarrassment of everyone knowing what a failure your relationship was, thanks to the hospital grapevine. And, worse still, in a break-up as messy as hers had been with Pete, your colleagues on the ward feeling forced to take sides… No. She wasn’t risking that happening ever again. Her relationship with Rhys was going to be a friendship—and nothing more.

Their food arrived, a huge platter containing little dishes and a heap of rustic bread.

‘Lamb.’ She gestured to the skewers of meat rubbed with spices and then chargrilled.

He laughed. ‘That’s a barefaced attempt to get me to leave it all for you to scoff.’

‘Rats. My dastardly plan has been foiled,’ she said, laughing and breaking off a piece of bread so she could scoop up some of the roast aubergine purée. ‘Mmm. This is good.’

He tried the tabbouleh. ‘So’s this. Is that cinnamon I taste?’

‘And watercress.’ She paused. ‘Is your palate honed that well by eating out a lot, or do you cook as well?’

‘I eat out a fair bit,’ he admitted. ‘I can cook—but if I’ve worked late it’s quicker and easier to stop somewhere on the way home.’

If? From what Lynne had said, it was more like ‘when’, she thought.

‘How about you?’ he asked.

‘Cooking relaxes me. I like experimenting.’ She smiled. ‘And anything involving chocolate.’

He gestured to the table. ‘No chocolate here.’

‘Ah, but you wait until you try the chocolate and cardamom ice cream from the dessert menu.’

As they worked their way through the little savoury pastries stuffed with cheese, the stuffed vine leaves and the felafel, Rhys asked, ‘So how was little Petros Smith?’

Katrina wrinkled her nose. ‘His haemoglobin levels weren’t brilliant, but nowhere near bad enough to need a transfusion, and I think it would’ve been more stressful for him if I’d admitted him—so I let his mum take him home. I gave her a leaflet about Petros’s condition and told her what to look out for; she’s promised to bring him straight back to us if she’s worried at all. He should pick up with a bit of rest— and the main thing is that his family knows now that there’s a problem and what he needs to avoid in future.’

‘That’s good. What about the Jeffers family?’

‘They’re coming to terms with the situation,’ Katrina said. ‘They have another audiology appointment in six weeks’ time, but they were warned this morning that Ruby’s fairly likely to need an aid.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I wish health screening had been as good when I was a kid.’

Clearly Katrina had had hearing difficulties for a long time, Rhys thought. ‘So how long have you been deaf?’

‘I’m not profoundly deaf—it’s moderate to severe hearing loss,’ she explained. ‘Looking back, it started when I was about seven, but nobody picked it up until Maddie was at med school and did a module on audiology. I was in my first year, she was in her third, and you know what it’s like when you’re a med student—you read up on symptoms and you spot them in yourself or other people.’

‘Yes, I remember doing that myself,’ he said with a smile.

‘Anyway, she nagged me to go and get my hearing checked. She even came with me to the audiology department for moral support, bless her. And that’s when we found out.’

‘Why didn’t anyone pick it up earlier?’ he asked.

‘I was a bit of a dreamer as a child—well, I still am, from time to time—so everyone thought I was just on Planet Katrina and wasn’t listening.’ She shrugged. ‘And you know what it was like when we were young. They simply didn’t do the kind of screening they do now.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I say “we”. I’m twenty-eight, and I assume you’re not that much older than I am?’

‘I’m thirty-two,’ he confirmed. ‘So it was a bit of a shock when you got the results?’

She nodded. ‘All I could think of was that I was too young to be going deaf—that it was something that only happened to geriatrics.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘And that’s despite the fact that there were several children in the waiting room for the audiology test. I have to admit I was struggling a bit to hear in lectures, but I thought it was just the acoustics of the theatre—that the place was full so it swallowed up noise. You know, in the same way that empty tube trains are much noisier than ones that are stuffed with people in the rush hour.’

‘So having an aid fitted made a difference?’

‘And how.’ Her face was suddenly animated. ‘It was incredible. I discovered I could hear better from the back of the auditorium than I’d ever been able to do from the front. And the dawn chorus…I’d never been able to hear it before. Well, not that I remember, anyway. I drove everyone bananas for the first couple of months, wanting to know what each new sound was.’ She smiled. ‘I was really lucky and had one of the digital aids straight off—the microprocessor is programmed to fit my personal pattern of hearing loss. It’s never going to be quite as good as having full hearing, I know, but it’s made a big difference to me and I don’t get so tired—I don’t have to concentrate quite so hard talking to people, or rely on subtitles on a television screen.’

‘I had no idea you had a hearing difficulty until I saw you take your hearing aid out and show Ruby,’ he said.

‘I suppose I should have told you.’ She shrugged. ‘But, then again, just because I can’t hear that well, it doesn’t mean I have to be treated differently.’

He blinked in surprise. ‘Why on earth do you think I would have treated you differently?’

‘Some people can be a bit funny about it when they find out. They start talking really loudly—as if that makes any difference —or they treat me as if I’m slow and can’t understand what they’re saying. Which, I have to admit, drives me crazy. If you talk to me and I’m not facing you, I don’t always realise that you’re talking to me and I might not pick it up, but otherwise I’m just your average person.’

Average? No, she wasn’t just your average person. There was something special about Katrina Gregory.

Rhys suppressed the thought as quickly as it arrived. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. There wasn’t room in his life.

‘So I don’t tend to tell people unless they notice,’ she finished. ‘It avoids the fuss.’

He could understand that. He didn’t like fuss either. ‘Do you know what caused your hearing loss?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I had a CT scan because there was a spike in the higher frequencies and they wanted to rule out anything nasty, like an acoustic neuroma.’ She grinned. ‘I asked if I could have a picture. I thought they’d print something on paper, but they actually gave me a film. It’s fabulous. Maddie says I only did it so I could show everyone and prove that there was a brain in my head—but that’s because I got higher marks in my exams than she did.’

Katrina’s expression told him that this was mutual affectionate teasing rather than a bitchy swipe. Rhys found himself wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up with a sibling or close cousin teasing him like that.

His family didn’t do teasing.

If the truth were told, they didn’t do anything except avoid each other.

‘I take it the scan was clear?’ he asked.

‘Yes. And after talking to me the registrar said he thought my hearing loss was probably caused when I had mumps as a child. Maddie still has the odd guilty fit about it, because she says she’s the one who gave me mumps so therefore it’s her fault I can’t hear properly.’ Katrina flapped a hand. ‘But that’s just ridiculous. She’s also the one who gave me my hearing back, because if she hadn’t nagged me about it I probably wouldn’t have bothered getting a referral to audiology—I would’ve carried on as I was, assuming that I was completely normal because I didn’t know any different, and struggling a bit more than I’d ever admit to because I didn’t want to be treated differently.’

Rhys went very still. A child with a virus causing a serious condition. It was a little too close for comfort to his past. ‘So your family blames Maddie for your hearing loss?’ he asked.

‘No, of course they don’t!’ She frowned. ‘How on earth can you blame a child for falling ill? It’s not Maddie’s fault that she picked up a virus at school—the same as it wasn’t my fault that I caught it too and it affected me in a different way to the way it affected her.’ She shrugged. ‘These things just happen. You can’t let it ruin the rest of your life.’

These things just happen.

How very different his life might have been if his family had chosen that line of thought. If they’d been strong enough to pull together instead of letting his little sister’s death tear them apart.

‘Are you all right, Rhys?’ she asked, looking slightly concerned.

‘I’m fine.’ You couldn’t change the past, so in his view there was no point in talking about it. ‘And you’re right about this food. It’s fabulous.’

Katrina realised that Rhys had deliberately changed the subject. Something was clearly wrong, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Not here and now, at least. Maybe he’d open up to her when they got to know each other a little better.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about food and films and books, and Katrina was surprised by how much their tastes meshed. But it wasn’t just that. There was something about Rhys. Something in his blue, blue eyes that made her heart beat a little bit faster and made her wonder what it would feel like if that beautiful mouth slid across her own. Which shocked her, as she hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone—hadn’t even thought of kissing anyone—since Pete. Hadn’t thought of a man in terms of anything other than as a colleague for the last couple of years.

This was crazy.

Particularly as Rhys worked with her.

Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt to shreds. She certainly wasn’t going to risk a repeat of what had happened with Pete—the horrendous atmosphere that had, in the end, forced her to move hospitals to get away from the awkwardness. She loved working at the London Victoria—really loved the way everyone on the ward was like a huge extended family. No way would she be stupid enough to forget that lesson now, have an affair with Rhys and end up having to leave here, too.

Finally, after hot sweet mint tea and tiny pastries soaked in honey, she leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m almost too full to move.’

‘You should’ve left me the lamb,’ he said with a grin.

‘Baa,’ she retorted. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘Do you know, we’ve been here three hours?’ And yet it had felt like minutes.

‘I’d better get the bill,’ he said.

‘No, we’re going halves,’ she protested.

‘Absolutely not. This was my idea—my apology to you.’

‘Ah, but we’re friends now. And friends share.’

He folded his arms. ‘Don’t argue with me, Dr Gregory, or I’ll pull rank.’

‘Bossy, huh?’ But she wasn’t going to argue—she’d had much a better idea. ‘Tell you what. You can pay this time, but next time’s my bill. We can go and see a film in Leicester Square or something and talk about it over tapas afterwards.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘would be lovely. I’d like that.’

After Rhys had paid the bill, he insisted on seeing Katrina home.

‘There’s no need, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived in London for ten years now. I’m used to being independent.’

‘Humour me. It’s a Welsh thing.’

‘So you’re Sir Lancelot?’ she teased.

‘Lancelot was French. Gawain, on the other hand, was Welsh.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, I can see I’m going to enjoy being friends with you, Rhys Morgan.’

He laughed back. ‘So are you going to let me see you home?’

‘If you insist. You could probably do with walking some of this food off, too,’ she added cheekily.

They left the restaurant and walked through the back streets. Eventually, Katrina paused outside a small Victorian terraced house. ‘This is mine. Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she asked.

Although Rhys knew it would be more sensible to refuse—things were already going fast enough to set alarm bells ringing in his head—at the same time he didn’t want the evening to end just yet. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’

‘Good.’ She unlocked the door, then ushered him into the sitting room. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Katrina’s house radiated calm. Pale walls, plants everywhere, and shelves of books and films. No music, though, he noticed. That was clearly one of the areas where he and Katrina differed. And that probably had much to do with her hearing.

There were framed photographs on the mantelpiece and he walked over to take a closer look. A picture of Katrina with her cousin at what was obviously Madison’s graduation; another of Katrina in graduation robes with people who he assumed were her parents; another taken of Katrina, Madison and both sets of parents in a garden; more photographs of Katrina’s parents. The warmth of the family relationship was so obvious that Rhys felt a twist of envy: it was the complete opposite from his own family background.

Though in the circumstances he couldn’t blame his father for walking away and trying to find happiness elsewhere. And, given that she’d lost a child and her marriage had disintegrated, he couldn’t blame his mother for the way she was either. As Rhys had grown up, he’d come to terms with the way things were. And he’d worked out that it was much, much easier to be self-sufficient and keep people close enough to be professional, but far enough away so there was no risk of losing them from his life and getting hurt.

It wasn’t as if there was a gap in his life. He had a job he was good at, a job he really, really loved; he had his music and his books and his films to fill his spare moments; and that was all he needed. Becoming involved with Katrina Gregory would just complicate things. He needed to get them back on the right sort of footing—colleagues and acquaintances only—and fast.

Katrina, walking back into the living room with two mugs of coffee, noted the expression on Rhys’s face. Polite but distant again. Where was the man who’d chatted with her in the Moroccan restaurant, who’d relaxed enough with her to tease her back and laugh with her?

‘One black coffee,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’ He gave her a polite smile.

She couldn’t think of a single reason why he would suddenly be so reserved with her, not after the evening they’d shared. Knowing how easily a small communication lapse could turn into something huge, she decided to face it head-on. ‘Rhys, is something wrong?’

‘Wrong? No.’

‘But you’ve gone quiet on me.’

‘I’ve just realised how late it is. And I’m afraid I’m a lark rather than an owl.’

‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘Which means I end up drinking huge amounts of coffee on team nights out to keep me awake.’

‘Sounds like a good plan.’

She sighed inwardly. He was definitely back to being polite and reserved. And she couldn’t think of a single thing to say without it sounding inane or babbling.

The silence stretched until it was almost painful. And then he drained his mug. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

‘Thank you for the meal,’ she said, equally politely. ‘And I hope you weren’t just being nice when you said about going to the cinema with me. It’s so rare to find someone who likes the same sort of films I do.’

He looked torn, but then he shook his head. ‘No, I meant it.’

‘Good. Then maybe we can check the listings together tomorrow, see what’s showing later in the week. If you’re not busy, that is.’

‘That’d be nice.’ He stood up. ‘Goodnight, Katrina.’

‘Goodnight.’ She saw him to the door. ‘See you on the ward.’

And when she washed up their coffee mugs, she was frowning. What had made Rhys suddenly clam up on her like that? Unless… She swallowed as the memories came back. Unless Rhys had had time to think about things and took the same view as Pete had. That her hearing was going to be an issue.

She’d thought she’d learned from her mistakes—but it was beginning to look as if she hadn’t.