From Fling to Wedding Ring

by Karin Baine

  Although it was Mollie who’d encouraged her to spread her beautiful butterfly wings when the job opportunity abroad had arisen at the end of their nurse training, she hadn’t realised the lonely life she’d condemned herself to in the process. She’d wanted to give Talia a new start, a new life away from the cruel childhood memories of home, but it had only been the start of a series of posts that had taken her all around the world and further and further away.

  At least, until recently. Whatever had happened during those years of ‘finding herself’ and working the wanderlust out of her system, she was now pushing Mollie to explore her independence a little more, too. If Talia truly had returned as the more contented adult she claimed to be, not only did it mean having someone to share the problems at home, it would alleviate some of Mollie’s guilt from the past and offered her a slice of freedom she hoped hadn’t come too late to enjoy.

  ‘I’ve had my fun, Moll, and my time away has made me realise how unfair it was to leave you holding the fort back here with Mum all this time. I haven’t been much of a sister to you.’ It was an unexpected acknowledgement of her sometimes selfish behaviour, but Mollie didn’t hold a grudge when they hadn’t had the best role models in life from whom to take their cue.

  ‘I wouldn’t change you for the world.’ She gave her sister a friendly nudge with her shoulder.

  There had been times, when she was consoling her mother after her latest heartbreak or trying to untangle her messy finances, when she’d wished her sister had been around to share the burden, but she also admired Talia’s free spirit. At least one of them had had the courage to put herself out there.

  ‘Well, it’s your turn now. I’m here to help out a bit more and give you the freedom you deserve. Which reminds me, weren’t you supposed to be going flat hunting at some point?’

  ‘I’m looking into it.’

  ‘Good. Mum and I have relied on you too much over the years to be the sensible one. You need to get out and have a bit of fun.’ Talia flicked the crumbs off her lap onto the grass for the sparrows hopping nearby.

  ‘I don’t know what’s brought on this sudden interest in my personal life but there’s no need to worry. I really have enough to keep me occupied in between shifts.’

  ‘Oh, yes, laundry and decluttering wardrobes are so much fun.’ There was no mistaking the sarcasm coming from a woman who’d probably done neither in her lifetime.

  ‘You forgot the hair washing—’ The truth was it suited Mollie to be so caught up in the mess at home when it always provided an excuse for her not to go out after work for drinks with her colleagues or those awful blind dates people kept trying to set her up on. There was no pressure to look or act a certain way when she was in her comfort zone, behind closed doors.

  ‘Well, I’ve organised something much more exciting to fill your time.’ There was something ominous in Talia’s tone as she tidied away the remnants of their al fresco lunch on the strip of greenery surrounding the hospital intended to give the illusion they were somewhere more tranquil than central London.

  ‘What have you done?’ Since her sister’s idea of fun usually involved high-octane, pulse-racing pursuits, she automatically went on meerkat alert, watching and listening for danger coming so she could take appropriate action.

  ‘I put your name down for that dance competition they’re doing. I thought a bit of excitement would do you good.’

  The casual manner in which Talia tossed the information to her gave no credence to the chaos unleashed with those few words. Mollie could almost hear the ping as her nerves finally gave way with the implications of her sister’s actions. That image of a scowling surgeon once he’d realised his valuable time had been wasted came to mind and sent shudders across her skin. She might’ve had the upper hand then, when she was the innocent party, but his patience might not accommodate a meddling sister. The custom in this sort of situation had always been for Mollie to take the flak anyone directed at her sibling. Such was the burden of guilt.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Her voice reached soprano level as she fought to understand what would make her sister carry out such an act of stupidity when she’d only just secured her own position in the hospital.

  ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t,’ Talia answered with a huff, as if that excused everything. Perhaps she hadn’t done as much growing up as hoped.

  ‘That’s because it’s the last thing on this earth I would ever want to do.’ Her temperature was steadily rising along with her heart rate.

  ‘Gowns and glitz...what’s not to love?’

  ‘Er...a load of people staring at me.’ The very idea of shuffling around the dance floor in one of those flouncy ballroom dresses was already bringing her out in a cold sweat and that was before they even acknowledged the fact that she couldn’t dance.

  Talia had never really understood Mollie’s anxiety about her appearance, probably because she’d never confided in her about how much it had affected her. It had been easier to simply accept the ‘boring twin’ tag than attempt a mature conversation on a painful subject.

  ‘It’s only a bit of fun and, you know, there are all those sexy young doctors for you to tango with...’ Male attention had always been Talia’s solution to any worries and Mollie had never corrected her when she assumed the one disastrous serious relationship she’d forayed into was the reason she preferred the single life. While it had contributed, her ex’s horrified reaction to seeing her naked body, pretattoos, had plunged the dagger into what little left there had been of her self-confidence. There was no way she was tangoing with anyone, fully clothed or otherwise.

  ‘If you’re so keen, why didn’t you volunteer?’ There hadn’t been any sign of a significant other, nor had Talia shown any interest in venturing into the dating pool herself lately, which was so unlike her. Mollie was sure there’d been some sort of heartbreak behind her sudden desire to come home, not that she’d admitted it so far except to say things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned.

  ‘I’m still a newbie around here. I doubt I’d bring in the money a well-established, well-respected specialist nurse could raise for a good cause.’

  Flattery didn’t work with Mollie—compliments of any kind always made her suspicious when she was so aware of her every flaw—but she could see Talia’s intentions had been honourable. If there was one thing Mollie would always prioritise over her own comfort it was her sister’s welfare. She was still a newbie and Mollie didn’t want her new start jeopardised because she’d unintentionally ticked off senior staff. It could be easily rectified and they both knew it was only a matter of time before she caved and did whatever her sister wanted anyway. Her part in this well-rehearsed dance was to at least make a half-hearted protest so she didn’t seem like a complete pushover.

  ‘Do not ever volunteer me for anything else again.’ She knew Talia was only trying to help in her own way and didn’t want to discourage her from future endeavours—as long as it didn’t include putting her forward for things without her express consent first—but it was going to take all the courage she could summon to face Ben Sheridan and tell him there’d been a mix-up and she would be taking part after all.

  That conversation wasn’t the only issue liable to keep her awake at night. Dancing would leave her exposed in ways she’d avoided for over a decade.

  * * *

  Tracking down a surgeon was no mean feat in a busy hospital. Mollie couldn’t even be sure he was here when he was in such high demand around the country. She’d refrained from having someone page him, doubting she could justify this as an emergency even if it was to her. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she’d sorted this mess out. Although, confirming her participation in the competition was merely going to create another problem for her to obsess over and direct her anxiety down another path.

  By the end of her shift and numerous phone calls to the relevant departments it eventually
became apparent that he was no longer in the building.

  ‘Try The Shed,’ was the general advice forwarded by those staff members who took an interest in his private life.

  She could’ve waited until the next day to ask him to reinstate her place in the competition but when further enquiries, and a quick internet search, revealed The Shed was only two stops away on the Tube she decided to rip the sticking plaster off as quick as possible.

  Just because she’d taken time to change and refresh her make-up before leaving work it didn’t mean she was making an extra effort for a certain surgeon. She wanted the protection of her most effective armour before going into battle.

  Her vintage style was an acquired taste for some, but it had never been intended for anyone else’s benefit other than her own. That fifties’ retro look had seemed so glamorous to a young girl who’d struggled to accept her disfigured body and, after the accident, she’d adopted it in an attempt to project that confident image she so envied. She was grateful her face hadn’t been left permanently scarred in the accident and she liked to make the most of her best asset to take the focus off those areas she constantly worried about. The moment she painted on that bright red lipstick and winged black eyeliner she at least looked as though she were ready to tackle the outside world even if she was quaking on the inside.

  It was only when she turned the corner towards the slightly run-down row of commercial buildings that she wobbled ever so slightly in her navy-and-white polka-dot platform shoes. Far from the glorified outhouse she’d pictured in her mind, ‘The Shed’ was housed on glass-fronted shop premises with the man she’d come to see visible through the window, or at least the bottom half of him encased in paint-splattered tight denim standing at the top of a ladder. The sight made her question if she was doing the right thing by encroaching on his personal time when he was clearly no longer in professional doctor mode. When she stopped to think about it she wouldn’t have appreciated him turning up at her house unannounced.

  He began to descend the ladder and her chance for escape vanished as he spotted her through the window and waved her in with one hand while balancing a paint tray and paintbrush in the other.

  ‘Mollie!’ The sounds of hammering and drilling ceased as he announced her entrance to the room full of volunteers.

  ‘Hi,’ she mumbled, trying to block out all the eyes trained on their exchange.

  The sudden turnaround on her decision to take part might cause him even more inconvenience and she’d no idea how this news was going to be received. With any luck he’d already picked up another partner since they’d last spoken, all this worry was for nothing and they could go back to being members of staff whose paths occasionally crossed during the course of their mutual patients’ treatment.

  ‘What brings you here? The sudden urge to brush up on your carpentry skills or add your name to our list of volunteers?’ The friendly welcome was a far cry from the prickly atmosphere that had developed between them at work and took Mollie by surprise. If he was disturbed by her sudden appearance he hid it very well as he guided her away from the centre of attention towards the back of the room, leaving everyone else to go back to their woodwork and chat.

  ‘Er...maybe next time. Although I’m not entirely sure what I could do to help.’ Seeing him sacrifice what little time he probably had free on his busy schedule guilt-tripped her into suggesting she might be talked into a second visit. One that would see her rolling up her sleeves and getting dirty, no less.

  ‘Every little helps. I can’t say my own skills go beyond touching up the paintwork every now and again but I try. As you can see.’ He gave an apologetic nod towards his emulsion-covered attire, which drew Mollie’s attention to the faded grey T-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. It left much less to the imagination than the loose cotton shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Probably for health and safety reasons when that small patch of smooth skin showing through the sizeable rip in the shoulder seam was so distracting.

  She forced herself to maintain eye contact. ‘It looks great. Fresh.’

  ‘We’re expecting the dance competition to bring us a lot of interest in the local press so we’re trying to spruce the place up. We want any potential donors or sponsors to see the potential in keeping this going for the community.’

  She could see that they were all working hard to make a good impression on those who held The Shed’s sustainability in the folds of their wallets, as there was as much cleaning going on around here as there was woodworking. That urge to offer her help became too great for her conscience to ignore.

  ‘Perhaps I could come back some time and paint a mural on the wall to brighten things up a bit?’ She was already thinking of how she could add trailing vines and other elements inspired by nature to give the workspace more colour and character and make it seem more homely and less clinical. If he was willing to offer an olive branch there was no reason she couldn’t do the same.

  ‘That would be amazing! Thank you.’

  ‘The reason I actually came here—’ She tried to steer them back towards the purpose of the visit before she ingratiated herself any further into this little group.

  ‘Would you like a tour?’ In his delight at having secured another member into their army, he apparently didn’t seem to care about why she was here and only that the enchantment of watching their endeavours would keep her here.

  Before she could decline he’d rested his hand in the small of her back and was gently manoeuvring her towards the source of the noise hammering away in the background. Even though he was touching a part of her body that didn’t usually cause her any discomfort—untarnished by jagged reminders of the accident—that slight contact made her skin burn with the same self-awareness. It was a long time since anyone had laid a hand on her but she was going to have to get used to it if she was expecting to take up ballroom dancing.

  ‘This is Tom, our man in charge.’

  He seemed oblivious to the tingling sensation he was causing to ripple across her skin as he introduced her to the older man in the navy coveralls and safety glasses. In the end she had to take a step away to break the contact under the guise of saying hello to Tom, who was planing long lengths of wood at the back of the shop.

  Ben continued with the tour to show her the fruits of their labour lining the walls. ‘The men start off with small projects, such as planters and bird boxes, which they go on to sell and raise funds for more materials, but the experts like Tom here have progressed to things like dog kennels and tables. We even recycle the offcuts of timber and bag them up for firewood to help with the costs. We don’t like to waste anything here.’

  Including time, Mollie suspected, which brought her back to the reason she’d spared some of hers to come here tonight. ‘I’m very impressed with the whole set-up but I actually came here to tell you I’ve had a change of heart over the dance competition. I am going to take part after all. If it’s not too late to re-register my interest?’

  She didn’t enjoy portraying herself as indecisive or as flaky as some of her family members when she’d always prided herself on being the reliable one. This turnaround only hours after denying all knowledge of her addition to the list of competitors could seem as though she was just being contrary this afternoon because he’d interrupted her clinic.

  He raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn’t question the change of heart. ‘Not at all. It saves me having to strong-arm a reluctant replacement to make up the numbers.’

  Somehow she doubted he’d have trouble trying to persuade anybody to do anything. If she’d waited until tomorrow to tell him there would probably have been a queue of women waiting to take her place in his good books. It was the sound of her sister’s voice in her head telling her she needed to get a life of her own that stopped her from backing out again. She might’ve made the mistake in thinking he cared about who took part in this competition but Talia was proba
bly right—it would do her good to do something out of her usual routine.

  ‘So, is there an information day or something where the couples will be announced?’ Now she’d committed to taking part she was keen to know the finer details, and her mother had forced her to watch enough of those dancing shows to know it was a big deal to find out who you were paired with. Okay, she doubted there were any celebrities in the mix, but she was sure they’d create something of a buzz to kick-start the interest in tickets for the event. Although she wasn’t eager to get up close and personal with her colleagues any time soon, it might put her mind at rest if the other half of her team had some sort of dance experience. She didn’t want to be the joke act of the competition, literally being dragged around the floor with all the grace of a baby elephant.

  ‘We did the launch this afternoon. That’s why I came looking for you...’ He shrugged an apology but Mollie was happy to have dodged whatever spectacle had taken place. She wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

  ‘Sorry. I really didn’t mean to mess you around.’ It was Talia who should be taking the heat for this and standing here hanging her head in shame, not her. She might have covered for her sister’s screw-ups when they were kids but, as she was professing to be a grown-up now, this was the last time.

  ‘No harm done.’ Either the paint fumes had got to him or he was genuinely a much more relaxed man outside work, because he didn’t appear fazed at all by the inconvenience.

  Mollie, on the other hand, had spent every second since clocking off having this conversation in her head, imagining being forced to make a grovelling apology while his temper exploded again like Bonfire Night fireworks. Now she was wondering if she should have worried at all and simply left things alone.

  ‘If you could give me the details of whoever my partner is, I’ll be on my way.’ A name or a number would be sufficient so she could go and collapse into a puddle of nervous exhaustion at home and let him get on with his second job here.