She cleaned her teeth with it, grateful for the burst of freshness it offered if not for his sneaky exit, then showered fast without washing her hair, wiped away the smudge of mascara under her eyes, grabbed the biscuits and water off the hospitality tray and left.
* * *
She didn’t show.
He almost rang her, but stopped himself in time. She was bound to have seen the text. Maybe she just wasn’t interested? Although she’d seemed pretty interested last night.
He waited until ten, dragging out his third coffee to give her time, then admitted the obvious and gave up.
It was probably just as well, he told himself, and crushed the ludicrous feeling of disappointment. He got into his car and checked his phone again. Maybe she just hadn’t seen the text? But still there was nothing.
Telling himself not to be a fool, he deleted the call history and the text, threw down the phone and drove home, disappointment and regret taunting him with every mile.
* * *
It was eight that night before she finally climbed the stairs to her flat, and one glance at it made her glad they’d gone to his hotel.
Today was the day she’d set aside for cleaning it and blitzing the laundry, but that had turned out to be an epic fail. Tough. She wasn’t doing it now, she was exhausted, and it would keep. She stripped, trying not to think of the way she’d undressed for Sam last night, trying not to think of all the things he’d done to her, the things she’d done to him, the way he’d made her feel.
She’d never had a night like it in her life, and it hadn’t just been about the sex, although that had been amazing. It was him, Sam, warm and funny and gentle and clever. He’d made her feel special. He’d made her feel wanted.
Until she realised he’d just been using her.
And she couldn’t really have fallen for him. Not in—what? Nine hours?
Was that all? Just nine hours? She’d wanted it to go on for ever, but it hadn’t. Like all good things, it had come to an end all too soon, and he hadn’t even had the decency to tell her.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket to put it on charge and saw she had a message from an unknown number.
Meet me for breakfast? Café by the restaurant at nine? S
‘No-o!’ She flopped back on the bed and shut her eyes, stifling a scream of frustration. How could she not have seen it?
Because she hadn’t had time, was how. She literally hadn’t stopped, and when she had, for twenty minutes that afternoon, she’d fallen asleep in the staffroom. She should have rung him—sent him a text, at least, to let him know she’d had to work, but she hadn’t even known he’d messaged her, never mind how he’d got her number.
By ringing himself from her phone, she realised, scanning her call log.
Damn. So he hadn’t just left without trace. And all day, she’d been hating him for his cowardice.
But maybe it was as well. He didn’t live here, he’d only been visiting friends, so nothing would have come of it. She didn’t need to fall any further for a man she’d never see again. She would just have tortured herself that bit longer.
And anyway, she was sworn off men for life, remember? No more. Never again. Even if he hadn’t just done a runner.
She hesitated, then deleted the text and the call history.
There. Sorted.
Except it didn’t feel sorted. It felt wrong, leaving a hollow ache inside, but it would pass. She knew that from long and bitter experience.
Too tired to fret over it any longer, she crawled into bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
An hour later she woke to a wave of nausea, a raging headache and stomach cramps, and the depressing realisation that she had the bug that had swept through the department...
* * *
It was five days before she went back to work—days in which she lost weight, grew to hate the sight of her flat and finally tackled the laundry as she waited the statutory forty-eight hours after symptoms subsided before she was allowed to return to work.
She was straight back in at the deep end, as one by one the team were hit by the virus, but after a few challenging weeks the worst of the crisis seemed to be over. It was just as well, as she hadn’t really recovered her appetite and kept feeling light-headed and queasy. She staved off the light-headedness by eating endless chocolate, but she couldn’t do anything about her dreams.
Too much chocolate? It had never given her any problems before, but now Sam was haunting her every night.
At first she’d been too ill to think about him, and then too busy, but it clearly wasn’t as easy as all that to put him out of her mind. He was there every time she got into bed, reminding her of those few short hours she’d spent with him, making her ache with regret because she hadn’t phoned him to apologise and explain.
But she hadn’t, and she’d ditched his number, so regret was pointless and she was grateful when they were so busy that she was too tired even to dream about him.
And then, at the beginning of April, just over two months after her night with Sam, she went into Resus to restock and found Annie Shackleton slumped over the desk with her head in her hands.
She and the consultant often worked closely together on trauma cases and they’d become good friends, so right from the beginning she’d been privy to the blow-by-blow development of Annie’s pregnancy. Because of her husband Ed’s inherited Huntington’s gene she’d had IVF, so Kate had been one of the first to know the wonderful news that both embryos had taken, then that both of them were boys.
But this morning Annie had gone for a routine antenatal check, and now Kate knew something was wrong.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ she asked softly, and Annie looked at her, her eyes red-rimmed and tight with strain.
‘I’ve got pre-eclampsia,’ she said, her voice uneven, and Kate tutted softly and crouched down beside her.
‘Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry, that’s such tough luck. What are they doing about it?’
‘I’ve got to stop work. Like—now.’
‘Well, of course you have, but you’ll be fine! You just need to rest. Are they going to admit you?’
‘Not immediately, but it’s going to be so hard to take it easy. Who’s going to look after the girls? I can’t expect my poor mother to do any more, she’s been helping me since the girls were born because I was on my own, but I only work three days a week. This’ll be all day, every day, because it’s the Easter holidays—and because it’s the holidays Ed can’t take any time off, either, because of the staff with their own children to think about. The timing just couldn’t be worse—’
Her voice cracked, and Kate reached out and hugged her.
‘Annie, your mum will be fine with it. She’s lovely, she adores the girls and they’re no trouble. They’ll be falling over themselves to look after you, and Ed’ll be around to get them up and put them to bed, and you know he thinks of them as his own and they love him to bits. It’ll be OK, Annie. Really. You and the babies have to come first and the rest will sort itself out.’
Annie nodded slowly. ‘I know that, I know it’ll be fine, but it’s not just Mum and the girls I’m worried about. I’ll be leaving the department in the lurch. Andy Gallagher’s on holiday next week with his kids, and I have no idea how they’re going to get a consultant-grade locum at such short notice—I was going to work till I was thirty-six weeks, and I’m only thirty-two.’
‘So? They’ll find someone. It’s not your problem, Annie. It’s James Slater’s problem. He’s the clinical lead, let him sort it out, and you look after yourself and the babies. Have you told him yet?’
She pushed herself to her feet. ‘No, but I have to. You’re right, the locum’s not my problem—and even if it was, I don’t have a choice. I’ll go and tell him.’
‘You do that.
And go straight home, OK? I’ll sort your locker out.’ Kate straightened up, hugged her again and then watched her go, a lump in her throat. She loved working with Annie, and she’d miss her warmth and gentle humour. Not that the other doctors were difficult to work with, but—well, Annie had been a good friend to her, and it wouldn’t feel the same without her, and she had a horrible feeling she wouldn’t be coming back.
And she was being selfish. It wasn’t about her.
She’d just finished restocking the drugs cupboard when James put his head round the corner. ‘Annie’s going home.’
‘I know. She’s worried about leaving you in the lurch.’
‘Tough. She hasn’t got a choice, and we’ll cope. I’ll cover it if necessary. She said something about you clearing out her locker for her. Can you put the things in my office, please, and I’ll drop them off at their house on my way past tonight.’
‘Will you be able to get a locum?’
He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Maybe. Connie’s got a friend who seems to be kicking his heels at the moment, so he might agree. I’ll get her to ring him and twist his arm. It might also mean he gets his blasted boat off our drive while he’s here. Why he bought it I can’t imagine, but hey. Who am I to judge? I just want it gone so we can get the house sold before the new baby comes.’
But Kate had stopped listening at the word ‘boat’. Coincidence? Sam had gone to look at a boat. And his friends had gone to a party, on the same night that James and Connie had been at Zacharelli’s for a fortieth. The same party?
But Sam wasn’t a doctor—was he? He hadn’t exactly said what he did for a living, apart from mentioning unmeetable targets—and they were the bane of most doctors’ lives...
‘How long’s it been there?’ she asked casually, her heart pounding.
‘Oh, I don’t know, a couple of months? It seems like for ever. Right, got to get on. Don’t forget Annie’s locker.’
‘I’ll do it now.’
Two months? That fitted. So was Sam a doctor? And if so, how would he feel about working alongside her?
Her heart gave a little kick of excitement as she headed for the staffroom and emptied Annie’s possessions into a cardboard box.
Would they pick up where they’d left off?
She tapped on James’s door and he beckoned her in, pointing to the phone in his hand and mouthing, ‘Thank you.’ She put the box on his desk as he ended the call and spun the chair towards her, grinning cheerfully.
‘Job done. My sweet-talking wife just strong-armed him, and we have an amazingly well-qualified consultant trauma surgeon starting on Monday.’ He tipped his head on one side and studied her thoughtfully. ‘Just a word of warning, though, Kate. He’s emotionally broken, so don’t let his charisma reel you in. You’ll just be setting yourself up for a fall.’
The word ‘again’ hung unspoken in the air between them, and she stifled the sigh. ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said with a forced smile, and just hoped to goodness it wasn’t Sam because if it was, the warning might have come too late to save her.
* * *
She was off the next day, and she popped round to Ed and Annie’s house on the cliff to see how Annie was doing.
‘She’s fine, before you ask,’ Ed told her with a smile as he let her in. ‘I’m pampering her to death. She hates it.’
‘I bet she doesn’t really. I brought her flowers to cheer her up.’
‘Thank you. She’ll love them. She’s out in the garden with the girls because it’s such a gorgeous day. Go on out. I was just making us coffee. How do you like it?’
‘Can I have tea?’ she said. ‘White, no sugar?’
‘Sure. We’ve got cake as well. I’ll bring it out.’
She found Annie on a lushly padded swing seat under a canopy, her feet up and the girls chasing each other round the garden. Annie waved at her, and she went over and gave her a hug and handed her the flowers.
‘Oh, how gorgeous, you sweetheart! They’re so pretty. Thank you. I’ll get Ed to put them in water. It’ll give him something to do apart from clucking round me like a mother hen.’
She pulled her legs up out of the way to make room, and Kate sat down and settled Annie’s swollen feet onto her lap.
‘So, how are you? You look the picture of contentment.’
Annie smiled. ‘I feel it. It’s wonderful—and even better now I know James has found a locum who can actually do the job properly. Ed’s driving me slightly nuts, but the girls have been as good as gold, and if the babies would both stop kicking me to bits I could really relax! Feel them—it’s like a football team warming up. I can tell they’re boys.’
Kate laughed and laid her hand over Annie’s bump. ‘Good grief. They’re having a rare old shuffle, aren’t they?’
‘It gets a bit crowded in there with twins. It was the same with the girls, but I think these two are bigger. Is Ed bringing you a coffee?’
‘Yes—well, tea. I can’t drink coffee since I had the bug.’
‘That’s months ago! You’re not pregnant, are you?’ she teased.
She laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How could I be pregnant? I’ve sworn off men—and anyway, I’m on the Pill and it’s only coffee I don’t like. I think I’ve just had too much of it.’
Annie laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘That hasn’t put you off chocolate!’
‘Or cake,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘No, it’s just the bug.’
But when Ed brought the tray out then and put it down right next to her, the smell of coffee drifting towards her on the warm spring air made her gag.
Could Annie possibly be right? How likely was it that she’d still be feeling ill two months later? Not at all...
But she couldn’t be pregnant. There was no way. It could only have been Sam, and anyway, she’d done a pregnancy test. Unless...
‘Cake?’ Ed asked, cutting into her thoughts. ‘My grandmother made it. It’s her trademark lemon drizzle and I know you’d prefer chocolate but I’ve never known you turn down cake of any denomination.’
‘Thanks. It sounds lovely,’ she said, not really paying him attention because her mind was tumbling.
Because she was on the Pill they’d thought it was OK when his condoms ran out, and it would have been, without the bug, but it had dragged on for days, too long for the morning-after pill to work, so she’d done a test and it had been negative. She hadn’t given it another thought at the time, but now...
The girls went back to their playhouse and Ed took the tray inside, but she hardly noticed until Annie shook her shoulder.
‘Kate? Are you OK? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’
Or realised that her worst nightmare might actually have come true...
Annie’s eyes widened as she stared at her, and she could see the moment her friend’s thoughts caught up with her own. ‘Oh, no. You’re not, are you?’
She started to shake her head in denial, and then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’d put it down to the bug, but it’s possible...’
‘Oh, Kate. Do you want to do a pregnancy test? I’ve got a spare one upstairs in our en suite.’
‘I’ve already done one, ages ago, and it was negative—and anyway, I can’t just go up there to your bedroom!’
‘It’s fine, I’ll take you up. I need to put the flowers in water and if Ed asks I’m showing you the nursery.’
So they went, dumping the flowers in a vase on the way, and she took the test Annie handed her, closed the bathroom door and bit her lip. Did she want to do this? Yes! Heavens, yes, she wanted to; she needed to know, and as fast as possible, just to put herself out of her misery.
And there it was, in black and white. Well, blue, really, she thought inconsequentially, staring at the wand as she dried her hands
on autopilot.
Pregnant. It didn’t tell her how pregnant, and her mind tried to sort it out. It was the beginning of April, and she’d met Sam at the end of January. So...nearly nine weeks ago, which made her eleven weeks pregnant, maybe? Her other test must have been too soon...
‘Kate? Kate, are you OK?’
She opened the door, her hands shaking as she held out the wand to Annie. ‘You were right,’ she said, her voice sounding hollow and far away. ‘Oh, God, Annie, what on earth am I going to do?’
She felt arms come round her, the firm jut of Annie’s pregnant abdomen pressing against her. She could feel the babies kicking, and with a shock she realised that if she did nothing, then in a few more weeks this would be her, her body swollen by the child growing inside it.
And then what? How could she be a mother? She had no idea what a mother even was. Not a real mother.
Her teeth started to chatter, and Annie tutted and sat her down on the bed, putting her arm around her and rocking her. She could remember her foster mother doing that when she was sixteen, trying to soothe her when her world had been turned upside down and all feeling had drained away.
It felt the same now, the same numbness, the same emptiness and what now?-ness that she’d felt then.
‘I can’t do it, Annie. I can’t do it on my own—’
‘Do you know who the father is?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, of course I know. Hell, Annie, I’m not that reckless, but I can’t contact him. I don’t have his number any more, but he won’t want to know, it was just one night. Oh, God, I’ve been so stupid! Why...?’
‘Hush, hush,’ Annie crooned, rocking her gently. ‘It’ll be all right. You can do it. I did it on my own.’
‘No, you didn’t, you had your mum, and I don’t have a mum—’
Their Meant-to-Be Baby Page 3