‘I’ve got your number,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you.’
Yeah, right, of course he would.
‘Let’s take you to see Mr Young, shall we?’ he said, changing the subject, and she wanted to punch him in his patronising doctor’s face.
‘Daiseeeey.’ Freddie was still calling for her, sounding more like a lost toddler than the responsible man she knew him to be. But then, she hadn’t really known him at all, had she? Maybe this was the real Freddie.
‘I’m here,’ she said, pushing through the curtain, and Freddie’s disconsolate face lit up in relief.
‘My Daisy.’
‘Not your Daisy, not anymore,’ she reminded him, earning herself a “tut” from the nurse.
What was she supposed to do? Pretend they were still together and that everything was hunky dory? Freddie couldn’t expect things to simply go back to the way they were before, no matter how much he might want to crawl back into his closet and forget the whole sorry mess had ever happened.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Freddie said, more or less normally. ‘I didn’t know who else to ask.’
‘It’s okay.’ She’d expected to find him restrained or something, but he was sitting up on the bed with bandages around each wrist. He was also on a drip.
‘I’m sorry about Carl,’ she said, meaning it.
‘He was right to leave me,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I am committed to the relationship. I’m not ready to tell…’ he swallowed nervously, the added. ‘My parents.’
Daisy thought, neither was she, as she recalled the nights they’d spent together in Freddie’s king size bed. ‘Perhaps you’re bisexual,’ she suggested.
He sighed. ‘Maybe I am. What can I do about it, Daisy? If I’m with a woman, I can’t help thinking about men,’ (she winced), ‘and when I was with Carl, I couldn’t help thinking about…’ He hesitated. ‘The hospital told me I’ve got to agree to counselling, and I have to see a psychiatrist before they let me out,’ Freddie said, mournfully.
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Look on it as a kind of an MOT for the mind. We all need help sometimes,’ she added gently, ‘whether it’s physical or mental.’
‘Not you,’ he said. ‘You’re the strongest person I know. You’re never ill, except when you had flu once, and you’re tough.’
She smiled at that. ‘You think I’m tough?’
‘As old boots.’
‘Cheers for that.’
‘Nothing ever seems to bother you,’ he carried on. ‘You can cope with anything.’
His faith in her was flattering, but not at all accurate, and she thought again how little they had truly known each other. Yes, she knew where he liked to buy his boxer shorts, and yes, she knew he hated apples and loved oranges, but those were superficial things. She knew similar things about Melissa, and Melissa had only been a colleague. But she didn’t know the meaningful things about Melissa (clearly), and neither did she know the meaningful things about Freddie. The relationship had been surface deep – knowing how someone took their coffee in the mornings, wasn’t the same as knowing what scared them in the middle of the night, or knowing their most precious dreams.
That’s what had been missing, and she vowed she wouldn’t settle for less in any future relationship. She wanted to know a man’s heart and soul, and not just his shoe size.
‘Which is why I’m asking if you’d move back in with me,’ Freddie was saying.
Wait, what? Did she hear that right?
‘Not permanently, just to see how it goes. We were good together once, weren’t we?’ he said.
Were they? She supposed they were, but it had been based on a lie, and what she’d clearly thought was good, hadn’t been good for Freddie.
‘Plus, they won’t let me out without supervision,’ Freddie continued, and Daisy realised the real reason for his asking. He didn’t want her – he just wanted her as a guarantor for good behaviour.
‘I can’t,’ she replied honestly. ‘I’m living with David and Zoe for a while. David broke his leg and Zoe is pregnant, and has to rest.’
Once again, she felt sorry for her ex, but she couldn’t help him, because she didn’t want to put herself in an awkward position. It might be mean of her, but that’s the way it was.
However, she would stay with him until a bed was found for him on the ward, and she would contact his parents if she felt she had to. She wasn’t horrible enough to leave him without any support whatsoever, but she was determined she wouldn’t be the one to provide it. She had enough on her plate already.
When she eventually checked her phone later that morning, it was to find she had twenty-seven missed calls and sixteen texts, all from her mother, each message becoming more irate until the final text was all in shouty capital letters and involved a swear word or two.
Oh dear.
‘Mum?’ she said, as soon as her mother answered.
‘Where the hell are you, and why don’t you answer your sodding phone? I’ve been stuck with your brother all morning and unlike you, I’ve got things to do, like cooking New Year’s Day lunch for six sodding people. Get your arse back here now.’
‘Mum—’
‘I don’t care if he’s got buns of steel or whatever, shift your backside and get over to David’s house before I blow my top.’
It sounded like she already had, Daisy mused, and thought “buns of steel”?
‘I’m at the hospital, Mum,’ she said, and was gratified at the immediate contrition in her mother’s voice.
‘What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you?’
‘What? No! It’s Freddie.’
‘Freddie attacked you? You wait till I get my hands on that little shit, I’ll—’
‘No one attacked me, Mum. Will you just listen for a sec?’
Sandra listened and wasn’t impressed. Daisy wished she hadn’t said anything.
‘I’d have preferred you to be late because some man has had his wicked way with you,’ Sandra grumbled. ‘Freddie deserves everything he gets and more.’
That’s the buns of steel comment explained, she thought, but her mother’s vitriol was a little hard to stomach. Once again mankind (the male part of it) had reinforced Sandra’s idea that all men were wasters and couldn’t be depended on.
Just as Daisy was about to end the call, she remembered something. ‘Any chance of babysitting sometime this coming week?’
‘You are seeing someone,’ her mother said.
‘I don’t know. It will be a first date, if it actually happens.’ She muttered the last under her breath.
‘I could do tomorrow, but that’s it,’ her mother offered begrudgingly.
Oh, well, that was that, Daisy assumed. He’d hardly likely to call before then, and even if he did the odds of him being free at the same time were slim. Resigned to never seeing Dr Hartley again (what was his first name anyway?) Daisy kissed Freddie on the cheek, promised to keep in touch, and headed off to resume her caring duties.
Chapter 24
Daisy didn’t recognise the number, nor the voice on the other end. If it was one of those pesky “you’ve been involved in a car accident” phone calls, she might be tempted to play along for the sheer devilment of it.
David was asleep in his chair, Zoe had returned to bed exhausted, and Daisy was bored out of her tiny mind. If she was going to live here for the next few weeks, she’d have to have a stern talk with her brother about the benefits of Sky. The Freeview channels were crap, unless you liked watching endless re-runs of whatever was on ITV4.
‘Hello?’ she said.
Heavy breathing greeted her. It was one of those calls, was it?
‘Stop wanking yourself off,’ Daisy said, ‘because I’m not impressed, and I’m not shocked, you pathetic excuse for a human being. If you’re that desperate, go find yourself a real woman, and stop annoying me.’
She took the phone away from her ear when the voice said, ‘Hello? Daisy?’
Oh, bloody hell,
the pervert knew her name. She shot to her feet, dashed over to the window, yanked the curtains fully closed, then pulled the edge of the fabric aside, and peered into the darkness, her heart pounding. She’d seen Scream – she knew what was coming next.
‘Piss off,’ she hissed.
David wouldn’t be any help, not with him having a gammy leg, and she frantically wondered which drawer Zoe kept the knives in because she couldn’t for the life of her remember.
‘It’s Noah,’ the man on the other end said.
Noah? She didn’t know anyone called Noah, but by the sound of it, she might be about to meet him. Her heart-rate went up a notch. At this rate, she’d die of a heart attack before he reached the front door…OMG! He might already be inside the house!
A sigh came down the line. ‘Dr Hartley,’ the voice said.
Daisy collapsed against the wall, nearly pulling the curtain rail off in her relief. ‘Dr Hartley?’ she repeated. ‘Noah Hartley?’
‘Who did you think it was? Another ex-boyfriend? Bloody hell, Daisy, you don’t half attract some weirdos.’
‘If the cap fits…’ Daisy said, struggling to regain her composure. Why did this man have such an annoying ability to put her on the back foot? Was he born with the talent, or had he been practising?
Then her tummy did a little roll of excitement – he’d called. Despite everything, he liked her enough to phone her.
‘About our date,’ he said, and Daisy’s heart sank as she waited for him to wriggle out of it. ‘I’m on shift for the next two days—’ (he was letting her down gently), ‘—but I can do Wednesday or Thursday.’
Or maybe he wasn’t letting her down at all. ‘I can only do tomorrow night,’ Daisy said. Her yo-yoing emotions were seriously getting to her.
‘Oh.’ There was a whole world of disappointment in the word, and Daisy’s heart threatened to jump into her throat.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he began, and that was how Daisy found herself yet again strolling into A&E the following evening.
She gave her name to the receptionist, but this time had the satisfaction of saying, ‘I’m here to see Dr Hartley, he’s expecting me,’ when the receptionist asked her for her medical details.
This time she waited less than five minutes before she was called by Dr Hartley himself (she still couldn’t think of him as Noah). He ushered her through the door and took her into an office.
‘Quick, put this on,’ he said, handing her a white coat. ‘Hi, by the way.’
‘Hi, to you, too.’ She slipped her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up. ‘Can I have a stethoscope?’ she asked.
‘Only if you promise not to play with it.’
‘I promise.’
He draped the instrument around her neck and it was at this point that Daisy started to wonder whether Dr Hartley was into kinky games of doctors and er… doctors.
It was as though he’d read her mind. ‘Staff canteen,’ he said. ‘No one will look at you twice if you’ve got a white coat on.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, wryly.
‘I don’t mean they won’t look at you because you’re not worth looking at – you are, you’re gorgeous – what I meant was—’
Daisy laid a hand on his arm. His babbling was endearing. ‘I know what you meant.’
Their eyes met and Daisy was suddenly lost, the blue in them was so blue, and he had long dark lashes, and was staring at her, staring into her, making her knees tremble.
‘Shall we?’ He gestured to the door.
Do we have to? she wanted to say. She could spend the rest of her life gazing into those eyes, losing herself in them.
Get a grip, Jones, she admonished herself. A cluttered office in the middle of an accident and emergency department with the prospect of hospital food, wasn’t exactly romantic.
Yet nothing had been more romantic in Daisy’s life, and all she could think about was that he hadn’t been able to wait to see her. If that wasn’t romantic, what was?
‘I hope you’ve already eaten,’ he advised, leading her down a myriad of corridors and around so many corners she was soon lost.
‘I thought we were having a meal, here?’ she replied, confused.
‘Exactly!’
Daisy hadn’t eaten, but she wasn’t hungry either. Her tummy was full of small insects jumping about, and the last thing she felt like doing was eating. The first thing? She certainly wasn’t going to think about that in public.
The food was everything he’d inferred it would be, and Daisy only picked at her dry shepherd’s pie. Noah, on the other hand, wolfed his down.
‘I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime,’ he said, ‘and besides, you get used to the food. Kind of.’
Every so often his pager would ping, Noah would take it out, glance at it, and put it back in his pocket.
‘I was surprised to see you working on New Year’s Day after being out in the evening,’ she said, pushing a fork full of greyish brown mush around her plate.
‘I volunteered. After I saw you in The Cardinals Hat, I had to go into work for a twelve-hour shift. Except it turned into a sixteen hour one instead.’
‘Do you often have to work such long hours?’ she asked, appalled. Nine to five had been more than enough for her, thank you very much.
‘It depends. I offered to swap with a guy who has a wife and kids, so he could spend the holiday with them. Then the doctor who was supposed to relieve me phoned in sick, though knowing him, it was probably self-induced.’ He saw Daisy’s confused expression. ‘Hangover.’
‘Oh.’ She was curious. ‘Why did you become a doctor?’ She genuinely wanted to know. From what she’d seen (a documentary on TV) it seemed that the life of an A&E doctor wasn’t a glamorous one. In fact, it looked like bloody hard work and long hours. ‘Was it because you wanted to help people?’
‘Lord, no.’ Then he realised how that sounded and added, ‘That was part of it, but the main reason is that I’m good at it.’
‘You must have known that before you applied to medical school?’
‘Nope, didn’t have a clue. It just seemed like a good idea at the time, and my mum always said she wanted a doctor in the family, to save her waiting weeks for a GP appointment, so I applied. Can I ask you something,’ he said, ‘and I hope you’ll be honest with me?’
Here goes – this was the time to confess that she didn’t have two kids, and hope he forgave her for misleading him, though with their track record, one more misconception shouldn’t make any difference.
‘What did you want to be when you were five?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling.
She hadn’t been expecting that. ‘A ballerina,’ she replied, immediately. ‘But only because I liked pretty pink tutus and not because I could dance.’
‘Did you have lessons?’
‘One. When I was four.’
‘Only one?’
‘My mother was asked to bring me back when I was toilet trained,’ she said and he gave her an incredulous look. ‘I got so excited, I peed in the corner,’ she explained. ‘My mother didn’t risk taking me back again. What about you?’
‘Train driver – the old-fashioned steam ones, not those modern contraptions.’
She wondered whether he had carried that enthusiasm through to adulthood, and had a train set bigger than London in his attic, or worse, he was a train spotter. She’d rather watch paint dry.
‘I grew out of that, in fact, I don’t really like trains much, I discovered, and then I wanted to be Spiderman. That didn’t work out either.’
‘I suppose the job’s already taken,’ she said, putting her fork down.
His pager bleeped. He looked at it, but didn’t move. ‘I also found out I didn’t like spiders,’ he admitted, then asked, ‘What’s your favourite colour?’
‘Red, because it’s sexy and sassy, and no one argues with you when you’ve got red on. It’s a fact.’
‘It is?’
She nodded. ‘You?’
‘
White.’
‘White isn’t a colour.’
‘No, it’s an absence of colour,’ he said. ‘But it symbolises light and life.’
‘Not in some religions,’ she argued.
‘Are you religious?’
‘Not really, but my mother used to make me go to church on Sundays when I was really little. I hated it. I wanted to go horse riding instead, like my friend Jayne. But we couldn’t afford it.’
‘Do you ride now?’
‘Never been on the back of a horse in my life, unless you include a donkey ride on Weston beach.’
‘What would you like to do that you’ve never done before?’
Where should she start? The list was endless. ‘Visit New York, snorkel off the Great Barrier Reef, swim with sharks, own a tortoise—’
‘A tortoise?’
‘They’re cute. Don’t judge me,’ Daisy said, feigning indignation, before carrying on with her list. ‘Draw something that doesn’t look like a very bad cartoon, win a medal at the Olympics. I could go on.’
‘That’s quite an eclectic list you’ve got there, Miss Jones. I’m intrigued about the Olympic medal thing. Which sport?’
‘The one hundred metres.’
Daisy admired him for not glancing down at her less-than-trim bod, even if it was mostly hidden by the white coat.
‘Do you run?’ he asked.
Aw, that was so sweet of him, letting her think she looked as though she could. ‘No, not a step.’
‘That might make winning a medal a little hard,’ he teased, and Daisy melted at the way his voice softened and his eyes sparkled.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
‘Space,’ he replied.
‘Do you need some?’
‘I want to go up into it. Imagine what weightlessness must feel like – and the view.’ He sighed.
‘Anything else?’ she asked.
‘I want a sister.’
‘Is that a possibility?’
‘My parents are both in their late fifties, so I doubt it.’
A Very Lucky Christmas Page 16