The marquee was hard to miss, and he wondered irritably why fundraisers always had to cost so much. Then he parked on the grass and followed the smartly dressed dignitaries into the stuffy confines where the smell of hot canvas warred with expensive aftershave and pastry. After an awkward 10 minutes he secured a glass of orange juice and a warm sausage roll, and he wandered through centre of the tent, deciding to find Mr Patel and then make his escape. The tall figure of his mentor was finally discernible, he was talking to a small delicately built woman whose profile he had spent last night admiring. She was standing on her feet and he cut rather quickly through the crowd to talk to her.
As he drew closer he spotted the braces and the crutches she was holding so tightly and also the discomfort in her dark eyes. A woman in an enormous hat stepped into his path and said firmly, “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Harriet and her sister Elizabeth.”
Chris greeted them, nodding absently at her sister and stepping closer to Harry. “Lady Harriet?” he asked softly, and noticed tenderly that the top of head barely reached his chest.
“Are you going to be weird about this too?” she asked lightly, ignoring her own adrenaline rush.
“Of course not,” he said with a grin, and offered her a drink. She shook her head and smiled at him unconvincingly. He noticed the lines of tiredness under her eyes and saw the untouched drink on the table behind her.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine.” She said, with another smile that didn’t touch her eyes, and he saw his concern mirrored in her sister’s eyes.
“Mother can we get a chair for Harry?” Libby asked, and the chilly woman in the expensive brown suit, shook her head.
“Not just yet, I think there’s somebody here that Lady Harriet would very much like to meet.” She introduced a tall fleshy man with a red face and hair with too much product. “Lord Darley” said her mother triumphantly, and the man stepped forward and reached out to touch Harry’s arm.
Chris watched the colour drain from her face and moved forward quickly to catch her. He lifted her up effortlessly and stepped out through a flap in the canvas back to the makeshift car park. “Where is your car?” Libby asked him, and he gestured to the scruffy old sedan he had bought at university and never updated.
“The keys are in my jacket pocket.” He told her, and she unlocked the door and stepped back so that he could place Harry in the passenger seat.
“Shall I take off your braces?” Chris asked her.
“No I’ll do it.” Her sister said protectively, “can you get her a drink?”
Chris stepped back into the tent, where an anxious man found him and introduced himself as Harry’s father.
“Is that the surgeon?” Libby asked with a grin. Harry nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as her head stopped spinning.
“That’s doctor gorgeous, he almost kissed me last night.”
“Well make sure he kisses you tonight.” Libby told her firmly, and smiled at Chris as he came back into view and handed her the glass.
“Harry I’m so very sorry, I should have stepped in sooner.” said her father, his distress obvious.
“It’s okay dad.” Harry said, smiling with a conviction that faded when her mother stalked into view.
“Hurry up Harriet there are more people for you to meet.” Her mother said firmly.
“Mother she’s got a bad cold and she can’t stand for long periods of time.” Libby protested.
“And yet she does,” her mother replied, “Harriet you are a beautiful woman and you have an important title, but you’re never going to meet a husband sitting around in that wheelchair.”
“I think she might.” Libby said with a grin, then added more forcefully. “I’m going to ask Chris to take her home.”
“Is that really what you want Harriet.”
“Yes.” Harry said softly, and looked up at her mother. “I can’t go back in there,” she added unsteadily, and just for a second her mother’s expression softened.
“Okay then Harriet.” Lady Caroline looked at her for a moment longer, then she turned on her elegant heel and walked back to the marquee with her husband and Libby walking behind her. Harry watched them go, she shifted uncomfortably in the unfamiliar car and thought longingly of her sofa.
Chris climbed into the car beside her and touched her face again. She felt the tingle even through her tiredness and distress. “Thank you for rescuing me.” She said, her eyes curving into the smile that he loved.
“Anytime.” His blue eyes held hers and his voice was low and intense. “I’d rescue you whenever needed.”
She finished her drink and cleared her throat. “That’s good to know.” She told him.
“Now shall I take you home?”
“Actually can you take me back to the hospital? My chair is still there.”
“Of course.” he cut comfortably into the traffic and navigated the roads back into town. Harry leant her head back against the seat and Chris looked across at her, savouring her presence in his car.
“Thanks again.” she said with a smile.
“It's a pleasure. You know I was wondering, there are some really good places for a drink round here, do you want to stop?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably on her seat, “Do you mind if we just go back to the hospital?”
“Of course not.” He cut past the park where they had spent the evening and couldn't help adding. “Lord Darley looked extremely pleased to see you.”
“I know. His mother was a couple of years above my mother at the same school. He joined the army but that didn't work out, and he stayed at our house over the summer after my first year at university.” Harry took a deep breath and added very quietly, “He came to my room one night. My wheelchair was in my student hall because mother doesn't like it and he climbed into my bed.” she paused then added shakily, “It hurt so much.”
“Harry that's awful.” Chris felt a white hot rage descending, and the possessiveness that had shaken him when Julia had spoken of the paramedic intensified. “He had no right to do that you. It’s a crime and he should face the consequences.”
Harry closed her eyes. “I don't know why I told you, I’m sorry, Julia and Libby know about it, but nobody else.”
“Don't let him come near you.” he said with a searing intensity, “Not now, not ever and if you want help with that then I'll talk to him.”
“Thank you but no, I can handle it myself.” She closed her eyes, trying to find her equilibrium, trying suppress the painful memories that his face had forced into her consciousness.
Chris spent the last five minutes of the journey rehearsing the best way of asking her out for dinner. He wanted to tell her that there were men that respected women, men that were gentle and offered things without taking, but every line that he thought of sounded melodramatic, even in his own head. Reluctantly he opened her door, sorry his time with her was ending, and said tenderly, “Let's get you back inside so you can put on something that suits you better.”
“Don't you like the way I look?” she asked, her dark eyes holding his. He lifted her into his arms then, savouring the way she smelt, intoxicated by her proximity and the revealing way her dress emphasised her curves. He felt her breath on his face and gently he lifted her higher and kissed her. He could think of no better way to communicate how much he already cared for her, and when she opened her lovely mouth and kissed him back, he felt the jolt all the way down to his toes. He looked at her low cut top and fought the urge to place her proprietally back in his car and drive her home to his house. Instead he held her tighter, wanting to savour the moment as much as he could, until he felt her small hand on his arm.
“Can we get my chair?” she asked awkwardly, and feeling that she needed to explain, she added softly “It’s a bit unsettling not have my independence.”
“Of course.” He said gently, wishing he had realised how she would be feeling, particularly after seeing the man who had hurt her. He carri
ed her to the IT suite where Mike and Rafiq and two men in the same uniform of black jeans and trainers clustered round them.
“What happened?” Mike asked, wanting to tear her out of the taller man’s comfortable grasp.
“She collapsed.” Chris explained, wanting to give her space to breathe as he helped her find her balance in her chair.
“No I didn't. I just felt a bit faint and you leapt in.” Harry said, with an acid in her voice that Chris didn’t recognise. She pulled her hand free from his grasp and disappeared into the toilet, slamming the door loudly.
“Word of advice mate,” Mike told him coolly, “Women who use wheelchairs really don't like it when you announce loudly that they've fallen over in public.”
Chris looked down at him, breathing heavily, and fighting the urge for physical retaliation. He was angry and upset and not in the mood to take advice. He didn't understand why she was reacting so badly when they had been so close and so very intimate. He pushed his hands into his rumpled pockets and started to wonder about the practical challenges of falling for Harry. His main concern was how easy it would be to have a relationship with someone who seemed to have such a dramatic effect on almost all of the men around her. Belinda stopped to trying to get their attention and instead pushed between them to pour herself a cup of coffee. She wondered bitterly if Harry even knew where the coffee machine was.
Harry sat in the bathroom and gathered her thoughts. How could he rescue her then get it so wrong? When he had told her friends, the men whose opinion of her mattered, that she had fallen in public, she had felt like crying. She replayed his thoughtless words in her head, feeling her throat catch again. Then she took a deep breath and wheeled back outside, she had faced far worse at school.
Chris felt his anger melting, her hair was slightly tousled and the tremor of tiredness had returned to her hands. When he looked closer, her big dark eyes looked suspiciously full of tears, and he hoped desperately he was not the cause. He wanted more than anything to pick her up again and carry her back to her sofa. “Shall I take you home Harry?” Mike asked quietly.
“Please.” she said with yet another strained smile. Reluctantly Chris stepped aside and watched her go, she was struggling to navigate her chair, and after a quiet exchange with Mike, the computer technician started pushing her.
Chris felt sick and he walked out to his car in silence. The subtle smell of her perfume still hung in the air. And he sat for a moment remembering the way she had tasted when he kissed her and the way she had kissed him back. His unreturned feelings for Nicola had allowed his precise medical mind to chart out his lonely journey all the way into one sided love and back out the other side. But this, he realised, was far more intense and he fought the urge to drive round to her house and demand to finish their conversation, and the wonderful kiss.
He heard tapping on the window of his car, and for a wonderful wild moment he hoped to see her face. Mr Patel opened the car door and sat down beside him. “Are you okay?” the older man asked finally.
Chris shook his head and looked at the older man. “I upset her.”
“She looked pretty upset to begin with.”
Chris nodded, “I guess you’re right.” He said finally.
“Where is she now?”
“With that man from the IT department, the one who follows her around like a puppy.”
“Why is that?”
“I told everyone that she’d fallen, well I sort of implied it, I didn’t realise she’d react the way she did.”
Mr Patel looked at him for a long time, then said thoughtfully, “Have you noticed how everyone looks at her legs?”
“It’s her face that I can’t stop thinking about.”
“That’s not the issue, her legs are going to be this unimaginable sore point, show some tact man.”
Chris nodded, then said in a voice that sounded petulant even to him. “And every time she even slows down, she’s surrounded by men.”
“Then start behaving like the kind of man she’s going to notice.” The older doctor told him, and opened the door of the car. Chris nodded and closed his eyes, he tried to focus on the rugby match he had been looking forward to, but all he could think about was her.
Harry pushed all thoughts of him to the back of her mind. She relaxed into Mike's gentle company and slid out of the car under his protective gaze. “I know it’s only six, but would you like a glass of wine?” she asked with a smile.
He grinned slightly self-consciously, “I was hoping you'd say that.” He produced an expensive bottle of red that the man in the shop had assured him was irresistible and followed her into her elegant hallway. “Shall I open it?” he asked, knowing that she would want a moment of privacy while she transferred onto the sofa. She nodded gratefully and he stood for a moment in the kitchen with work surfaces of different heights and waited for her to get comfortable. He made her laugh by telling her about his latest evening class, he filled up her wine glass and he ordered pizza. He wondered why he was torturing himself, why he didn't go home and wait for his heart to start healing, and finally he asked, as casually as he could, “So do you like him?”
She was silent for a moment and he sat very still watching her face. He knew how private she was and he wondered if he had overstepped her careful boundaries. “Unfortunately yes.” she said quietly, “although I'm not sure why.”
Mike remembered the way he looked and decided he could hazard a guess. “I’m pretty sure he likes you.” he told her honestly, knowing that all the men in their little department were a tiny bit in love with her.
“I wish I could be sure. He was so weird the first time he saw my chair and today when he brought me back to the office.” she closed her eyes remembering the words that were too painful to say.
“I don’t think people understand how much the not walking stuff bothers you.” Mike said carefully.
“You can't be serious.” She replied, her dark eyes holding his.
“No I am. You're cool and funny and very beautiful. People think you're okay with it.”
“Not being able to walk is never something you're okay with.”
“I'm sorry, I guess I know that about you, but he hasn't known you as long as I have.”
“You knew that from the start honey.” she said affectionately and added awkwardly “Not walking is the least of my worries actually. It's the practicalities of the intimate stuff that I’m really worrying about.” Mike took a deep mouthful of wine and thought about what he wanted to say. That any man lucky enough to kiss her, lucky enough to help her out of her clothes, lucky enough to chart her erogenous zones and hear the sounds that she would make, would be wanting to look after her and would make sure they both had fun. In the end he said it and she thanked him and smiled at Julia with a combination of relief and curiosity when she burst quite dramatically into the front room.
“What happened?” Julia asked breathing hard from her short burst of exercise.
“What on earth do you mean?” Harry asked her.
“You're on the news, mostly the local, but a bit in the national as well.”
Harry felt the flush starting in her throat and took another mouthful of wine. “Am I standing or is Chris carrying me?”
“You're standing by your mother looking miserable and beautiful.” Julia paused for a moment and added carefully, “Why was he carrying you honey?”
“Because I lost my balance.” Harry said, almost too quietly to hear, and felt the tears starting to slide down her cheeks. Julia sat down beside her and she buried her face in her shoulder, and muffled her sobs in her friend’s gentle arms.
“Choose us a box set.” Julia told Mike and he nodded gratefully. He listened while Harry told the story and watched the moment when Julia made her laugh. The moment when Julia navigated her away from the stinging fact that one of her biggest fears had been realised in such a public setting.
“Do you think mother destroyed all the pictures?” Harry asked, finally finishing t
he piece of pizza she had been looking at for much of the evening.
“And all the photographers.” Julia said cheerfully. “Now why don't you get comfortable? You look exhausted.” She helped Harry slide back into the support of the deep cushions then added carefully, “Where is Chris now?”
“I don't know.” Harry said, and Julia looked at her with the patience borne of long years of experience.
“He told everyone in IT that I had fallen.” Harry said finally, feeling the tears sliding down her face again. Julia poured some more wine into her glass. She knew that this was too raw to discuss. She touched Harry's hand and they turned their attention to the comfortably predictable plot lines until Harry fell asleep.
“Will she be ok?” Mike asked softly, and Julia smiled at him.
“She's always ok. It's one of the things I love about her; she gets hurt, but she always picks herself up again.” She tore the last piece of pizza in half and handed him the portion with more topping. “I'm supposed to be on diet.” she said awkwardly.
“Why? I think you look great.” She found herself telling him about the insensitive paramedic, and the fact that her parents had enrolled her in a local gym as a birthday present, and he told her about his mother suggesting karate. Harry woke up briefly but kept her eyes shut, she was starting to feel hopeful until Mike told Julia how he felt about her lovely friend and the evening ended on a slightly awkward note with Julia poking her rather violently in the ribs and Mike saying his wistful good-byes to them both.
“I heard you wake up.” Julia said conversationally, “You were trying to breathe so regularly you sounded as though you had asthma.”
“Sorry I didn't want to ruin the moment.”
“No thank you for that, I never get tired of hearing interesting men telling me that they find you attractive.”
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