by Kate Hardy
‘Only a little bit.’ He gave her a little-boy-lost look. ‘So I guess I owe you a kiss for being judgmental, then.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I rather think you do. Because there’s nothing wrong with instant coffee.’
‘Would you choose instant coffee over a proper cappuccino?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But bean-to-cup machines are a bit—well, fancy.’
‘They’re a brilliant invention,’ he said, laughing. ‘As I’ll prove to you.’ He closed the curtains, put the table lamp on and switched off the overhead light; then he came back over to her. ‘One apology kiss coming right up.’
His mouth was soft and warm and sweet, teasing her lips until she opened her mouth and let him deepen the kiss.
‘Hold that thought,’ he said, ‘and choose some music.’ He unlocked his phone and went into the streaming app. ‘Pick something you like, then come and supervise, if you like.’
‘My expertise is in drinking cappuccinos, not making them,’ she said. But she picked a mellow playlist, then followed him into the kitchen.
His movements were deft and sure, and the cappuccino was perfect.
‘If you ever get bored with being a doctor, you could make a decent barista,’ she teased.
He inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’
She enjoyed sitting with him on his sofa, his arm around her while she rested her head on his shoulder, just listening to music. Every so often, Oliver kissed her, and each kiss made her head spin.
‘Much as I’ve enjoyed this evening,’ Gemma said, ‘I’m not going to overstay my welcome. Thank you for the coffee. I’ll wash up before I go.’
‘No need. Everything will go in the dishwasher,’ he said. ‘So what are your plans for the rest of the weekend?’
‘Tomorrow morning, I’m training for the sponsored cycle ride—seeing how far I can get in two and a half hours,’ she said. ‘But I’m free in the afternoon, if you’d like to do something.’
‘Maybe we can go for a walk,’ he suggested.
‘That’d be nice. Round the next bay, there’s a ruined castle. It’s really pretty on the beach there.’
‘Great. What time works for you?’ he asked.
‘About three?’ she suggested.
‘I’ll pick you up,’ he said. He kissed her again, his mouth teasing hers. ‘Thank you for this evening. I’ve really enjoyed it.’
‘Me, too,’ she said, feeling suddenly shy.
‘Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow,’ he said, and stole a last kiss.
* * *
On Sunday morning, Gemma did a long cycle ride, setting an alarm on her watch so she knew when to turn round at the halfway point. Back home, she was pleased to discover that she’d managed thirty-five miles, which meant she was more than halfway to her goal. If she kept doing the short rides during the week and the longer rides at the weekend, she should be fine for the sixty-mile sponsored ride.
In the afternoon, Oliver picked her up at three and drove her to the next bay. It was a pretty walk by the ruined castle and down the cliff path to the sands.
‘This is perfect,’ he said. ‘A proper sandy beach.’
The beach was quiet; there were a couple of families sitting on picnic blankets with small children painstakingly building sandcastles next to them with the aid of a bucket and spade. There were three or four dogs running along the wet sand further down, retrieving tennis balls to drop at their owners’ feet; and some couples walking along the edge of the shore, ankle-deep as the waves swooshed in.
Gemma slipped off her shoes and dropped them in her tote bag. ‘There’s enough room in my bag for your shoes, too,’ she told Oliver. ‘Let’s go for a paddle. There’s nothing nicer than walking on flat, wet sand.’
‘Agreed—but I’ll carry the bag,’ he said, and put his shoes in her bag.
They both rolled their jeans up to the knee, then strolled along the shoreline. The sea was deliciously cool against their skin in the heat of the afternoon.
‘This is my idea of the perfect afternoon,’ he said.
She smiled at him. ‘Mine, too.’
They didn’t need to chatter; just walking together, hand in hand, was enough. Oliver felt so familiar that it was as if she’d known him for years, not just a few short weeks. Gemma couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed with someone she was dating. It took her a while to work out just what it was about Oliver: but then she realised.
She trusted him.
He’d seen her at her worst, and he hadn’t rejected her. He hadn’t taken advantage of her, either; instead, he’d looked after her. Cherished her. Made her feel special.
But then Gemma glanced out to sea and noticed something. ‘Oliver, do you see those two boys swimming a bit further out? They look as if they’re in trouble.’
He followed her gaze. ‘I agree. Do you get rip tides here?’
‘Thankfully, not in this bay,’ she said. ‘But there aren’t any lifeguards on this beach, just the public rescue equipment. Do you mind hanging onto my bag and I’ll go and see what I can do?’ When she could see him about to protest, she reminded him gently, ‘It’s not that long since the transplant. If you overexert yourself or get an infection, you’ll regret it.’
‘I know you have a point,’ he said, ‘but I feel useless.’
‘You won’t be useless at all,’ she said. ‘You can call the ambulance, because it’s pretty obvious at least one of them is going to need treatment. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid and I won’t put myself in danger—because that just means another person will need rescuing.’
‘You two out there! If you’re OK,’ she yelled to the boys, ‘wave to me!’
One of the boys was clearly struggling to stay afloat, submerging completely from time to time; the other looked panicky, and neither of them waved back at her.
‘I’m going in,’ she said to Oliver. ‘Call the ambulance.’
She ran up to the bright orange housing containing the lifebuoy ring, then went back to the sea. Although she and Oliver been walking at the edge of the sea, with the waves swishing round their ankles, the water felt colder than she’d expected. She swam out to them, knowing that Oliver was calling for back-up medical help. But, in the short time it took her to reach them, the struggling boy had gone under again, and this time he hadn’t bobbed back up.
She dived under the waves and managed to find him and get him to the surface.
‘I’m not sure whether you can hear me or not,’ she said, ‘but you’re safe. Don’t struggle. I’m taking you back to shore.’ She trod water for a moment, holding him up, and turned to the other boy. ‘I know you’re scared and tired, but grab this ring and try to follow me back to shore. Don’t worry about being fast. Just keep going and focus on one stroke at a time. I’ll come back for you and help you, but I need to get your friend to shore first.’
‘My brother,’ the other boy said, his voice quavery and full of fear. ‘His name’s Gary.’
‘OK. I’ve got him and I’ll get him back to shore,’ she reassured him. ‘You’re not on your own. Try and get to a place where you can get both feet on the ground and your head’s above water, and I’ll come back for you.’
She focused on getting Gary back to the shore. Ollie was there to meet her, and a couple of other people had clearly noticed what was going on and had gathered beside him.
‘The ambulance is on its way here,’ he said.
‘Good. This is Gary. His brother’s still out there, trying to make his way in,’ she said. ‘He’s got a lifebuoy but I said I’d go back to help him.’
‘I’ll go,’ one of the men said. ‘I’m a strong swimmer. Oliver said you were both medics, so you’ll be needed more here.’
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘People are bringing towels and blankets,’ Oliver said, and
helped her to carry Gary to a towel that someone had spread out.
‘Brilliant,’ she said gratefully. ‘He went under a few times, and I’m not sure whether he’s still breathing. I just wanted to get him back here so we could do something.’
Oliver knelt next to the boy and gently shook his shoulder. ‘Gary? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me.’
The boy didn’t respond.
He and Gemma exchanged a glance. This wasn’t a good sign.
‘Checking his airway,’ Oliver said, tilting the boy’s head back and lifting his chin. ‘Clear,’ he said. But he frowned as he checked the boy’s breathing. ‘I can’t feel any breath on my cheek, I can’t hear breathing sounds, and his chest isn’t moving, so I’m going to start CPR. Is the other boy OK?’
Gemma looked over to the sea. ‘Looks it. The guy who went in to help him—they’re close enough to be walking in, now,’ she said.
‘Good.’ Oliver started giving chest compressions, keeping to the beat of the song ‘Stayin’ Alive’.
Gemma knew that chest compressions were their best chance of keeping him alive. But she also knew that giving chest compressions meant a lot of exertion, and it really hadn’t been that long since Oliver had donated a kidney to his brother.
‘Come on, Gary, you’re not going to die on me,’ Oliver said.
‘Let me take over for a couple of minutes,’ Gemma said. ‘We’ll split it between us so neither of us gets too tired.’
The other boy ran over and threw himself down next to them. ‘Is my brother all right? He’s not going to die, is he?’
‘Not on our watch, I hope,’ Oliver said. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’
‘We were swimming. Not far out, because we’re not that stupid. And we haven’t been drinking or anything. We just wanted to have a bit of fun. But then Gary went under. He said he was getting cramp in his foot and he couldn’t swim any more. I tried to get him but I couldn’t.’ The boy’s face was pale with fear. ‘He can’t die. He can’t. Our parents will never forgive me.’
Gemma knew how that felt. ‘We’re not going to let him die,’ she said, and kept doing the compressions.
The man who’d helped with the rescue came over, carrying the lifebuoy. ‘I’ll put this back,’ he said.
At that point, to Gemma’s relief, Gary started to cough. Oliver helped her roll the boy onto his side. As she’d expected, his stomach contents gushed out of his mouth; there seemed to be a huge amount of salty water. But at least he was breathing,
‘What’s your name?’ Oliver asked the older boy.
‘Ethan.’
‘Ethan, we’ve got an ambulance on the way. You might want to find your parents and grab your stuff.’
‘There’s just me and Gary here. Our parents wanted to go and see some garden or other. We said we wanted to stay here, because gardens are boring. We just wanted to have a sw—’ Ethan broke off, almost sobbing.
‘It’s OK,’ Oliver said. ‘Gary’s going to be OK. Go and find your stuff and come back to us.’
Other people had brought towels and blankets, and between them Gemma and Oliver put Gary into the recovery position and covered him with towels to keep him warm.
By the time Ethan got back with their things, the paramedics had arrived. They took over sorting out Gary’s breathing and Ollie helped them get Gary onto a scoop so they could take him back to the ambulance.
‘Looks as if you could do with checking over, too, lad,’ one of the paramedics said to Ethan. ‘Come on. We’ll get you sorted out.’
‘Can we call your mum and dad for you?’ Gemma asked.
‘No, I’ll call my mum.’ Ethan swallowed hard. ‘Thank you, everyone. But especially you,’ he said to Gemma. ‘You saved my brother’s life.’
‘Next time you swim in the sea, make sure you warm up your muscles properly before you go in, because then you’re less likely to get cramp,’ she said, clapping his shoulder. ‘Take care.’
* * *
‘He has a point,’ Ollie said when the paramedics had gone. ‘Without you bringing Gary in he’d have drowned, and Ethan was struggling as well—if you hadn’t given him that lifebuoy, he could’ve drowned, too.’
She shrugged. ‘Anyone else would’ve done the same as me.’
Why wouldn’t she accept a genuine compliment? Why did she do herself down? he wondered. ‘Impressive swimming, Nurse Practitioner Baxter.’
‘Not really.’ She shrugged again. ‘Growing up in a seaside town means you do all your swimming safety training actually in the sea, with the coastguard trainers.’
‘I did mine in the pool round the corner from school,’ he said. ‘The whole thing with the pyjamas as a float.’
‘A pool’s good. But I’m glad I did my training in the sea. Open water’s a bit different—if nothing else, it’s colder and there’s the tide to think about. Are you OK?’ she asked.
‘Doing CPR didn’t overexert me, if that’s what you were worrying about. But right now I think I need to get you home so you can get out of those wet clothes. Sorry, I don’t have a towel or spare clothes in the car I can offer you.’
‘That’s not a problem, but I don’t want to ruin your car seat. Do you have a plastic bag I can sit on?’ she asked.
‘No, but I have a foil blanket.’
She blinked. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’ When they got back to the car, Ollie fished the foil blanket out of the glove compartment.
‘So how come you keep a foil blanket in your car?’ she asked.
‘It’s a mix of my mum and my brother. Because Rob does the mountain rescue stuff, he always has a foil blanket with him. When our parents moved here, he made them keep one in the car in case they ever get stuck somewhere; and then Mum made me put one in my car.’
‘It feels a bit of a waste, using it to sit on, but I guess at least it’ll keep your seat dry. I’ll buy you a replacement,’ she said.
Ollie smiled at her. ‘It’s fine—you look like a mermaid with wet hair.’
‘It’s going to be impossible by the time I get home.’ She plaited it roughly.
‘Let’s get you home,’ he said, and drove them back to her flat.
‘You’re welcome to come in for a cup of horrible instant coffee, given that I don’t have a posh coffee machine like you do,’ she said with a smile.
He laughed. ‘I might go for tea, in that case, but only if you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. Put the kettle on and make yourself whatever you want to drink. Everything’s in a logical place. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
* * *
By the time she’d showered and washed her hair, dressed in dry clothes again and put her wet things in the washing machine, Ollie had made himself a mug of tea and her a mug of coffee.
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully. ‘I could do with this.’
He raised his mug to her. ‘To you. Without you, there could be a family in mourning right now.’
‘To us,’ she corrected. ‘Without you giving him CPR, Gary wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
He grimaced. ‘It still feels weird, the post-Covid “don’t give rescue breaths” protocol.’
‘Circulation’s the really important thing, though,’ Gemma pointed out. ‘If your heart stops, you die; if you collapse, you need chest compressions getting your circulation going more than you need breaths inflating your lungs.’
‘I know, but it still feels a bit off,’ he said.
‘I’m going to ring the hospital and see how Gary is,’ she said. When she put the phone down, she looked relieved. ‘They said he’s comfortable—but, then, that’s the usual hospital comment to anyone who isn’t family—and his parents are with him. I’ve given them my number if Gary and Ethan’s parents want to get in touch.’
‘This wasn’t quite what I had in mind fo
r a romantic afternoon stroll,’ he said ruefully.
‘No, but we’ve made a difference to someone, and that’s a good thing,’ she said.
He kissed her. ‘Yes. It’s a very good thing.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Gemma and Oliver grew closer. It was fast becoming the happiest summer she could ever remember. On the evenings and weekends when she wasn’t at a gym class or helping Yvonne with an event or already had arrangements with friends, she spent her time with Oliver—everything from dinner to walking on the beach, to watching the sunset on the cliffs and watching the stars come out over the sea. No pressure, no regrets or baggage: just enjoying each other’s company.
Walking hand in hand in the famous rose garden at Alnwick with Oliver was the most romantic Saturday afternoon Gemma had ever spent. The sun was bright but not fiercely hot; the scent of the flowers was incredibly strong and made her feel as if they were strolling through an enchanted storybook garden. And when Oliver pulled her into a secluded arbour and stole a kiss, it made her feel as if the air around them was sparkling with happiness.
Even the monthly visit to her parents, the next day, was bearable this time.
‘I went to the rose garden at Alnwick yesterday,’ she said. ‘It’s really amazing. I’ve never seen so many roses in one place before.’
‘That’s nice,’ her mum said. The usual shutdown. Except this time it didn’t hurt as much. Being with Oliver had taught Gemma to look at things a little differently. He appreciated her for who she was—and maybe she didn’t need to change her parents. Maybe it was time for her to face the fact that this was the best she was going to get. So instead of feeling miserable that they wouldn’t—or couldn’t—respond, she should see not having a fight with them as a win.
‘I took some photos to show you,’ she said brightly, and opened up the app in her phone. ‘I nearly bought you a rose bush in the shop, but then I thought it might be nice to choose one together.’
‘We’ll see,’ her father said.
Meaning no.