Accidental Rendezvous

by Caroline Anderson

  All she had to do was convince everyone else to stop talking about it—and make her own peace with Nick. That might be more of a challenge, after all the things she'd said.

  Sally didn't see him again before she went off duty, and it troubled her. They'd never had a row before that they hadn't resolved, and this one had been left hanging in the air.

  She had no idea what kind of atmosphere she'd have to face next time they worked together, although he'd never in the past borne a grudge or kept a row going for the sake of it. She would have thought he'd seek her out and talk to her about it, but he hadn't, and that hurt.

  Had he changed? Maybe. It was seven years, and he was much older now in so many ways. Maybe he felt she had no right to correct him in his exalted position as an almost-consultant.

  Tough. In her opinion, he should have got his relationships with other members of staff sorted by now.

  She cleaned the house, scrubbing away her anger and apprehension, and then fell into bed exhausted at just gone nine. She had an early start the next day— as usual—and if she was going to have to deal with Nick in a grump, she wanted to have all her ducks in a row.

  Sally's house was in darkness, and by now everyone else had lights on. Had she gone out? Her car was still there, and he didn't think it very likely that she would have walked anywhere, unless she'd popped into a neighbour's.

  'I think she's in,' the lady over the road called. 'She might have gone to bed.'

  Nick thanked her, and looked up at the house again. Should he wake her? They'd never parted on a row before—well, only once, and look what had happened then. No. He couldn't leave it overnight.

  His mind made up, he rang the doorbell and waited, and after a moment the landing light came on, then the hall light, and he saw Sally running down the stairs.

  Without stopping to identify him, she opened the door and stood there in silence. Her face was expressionless.

  'Hello, Sally,' he said quietly. 'I'm sorry to wake you. Can I come in?'

  For a long moment she hesitated, then she moved back and held the door. He stepped past her and heard the latch click behind him.

  'Come on through,' she said economically.

  She led him into the sitting room, but she didn't sit. Instead she stood there, her arms folded defensively, and waited.

  'I've come to apologise,' he said, and she arched a brow.

  'It wasn't me you needed to apologise to, it was Sophie, and I gather you've done that,' she said, her voice tight, giving nothing away.

  Nick sighed and shook his head. 'No. I need to apologise to you as well. You were right. I was out of order. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I yelled at you.'

  For a long while he thought she was going to carry on standing there with that odd look on her face, but then she sighed and looked away and looked back at him, and he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Her voice when she spoke was rough with emotion. 'OK. Thanks.'

  So what now? he asked himself. In the old days, after a row, he'd take her in his arms and hug her, and then they'd make love.

  They couldn't do that any more, it didn't fit with the friendship thing. Suddenly plagued by uncertainty, he turned towards the door, and her voice stopped him.

  'Where are you going?'

  He turned back so he could see her face, but she was giving nothing away. 'Home,' he told her. 'It's late. I've already woken you, I don't want to keep you up.'

  'Stay for coffee,' she said, and there was a touch of something in her voice that could have been a plea.

  He nodded. 'OK.'

  'I've got chocolate biscuits.'

  He felt his mouth tug in a smile, and hers echoed it, just a tiny, rather uncertain smile that made him ache for all they'd lost. It would be so easy to cross the room and take her in his arms and persuade her to make love, but it would only hurt her. She didn't want it, and he had no right to impose his feelings on her.

  Not now.

  Not after Amy.

  'Chocolate biscuits sound good,' he said, and smiled, and the tension eased from her face a little.

  She was really worried about it, he thought, and realised that he had been, too. He perched on one of the high stools at the breakfast bar in her kitchen and watched as she made instant coffee, then drank it without a murmur, dunking chocolate biscuits in it until it was cool enough to drink. And they talked about Sophie's grandmother and how Sophie was working all day and then staying up all night caring for her elderly relative, and he felt even more of a heel and vowed to speak to her the next day.

  Then the coffee was finished, and there was no reason to sit there any longer. Putting his mug down, he stood up and patted his pocket for his keys, and Sally slid off her stool and followed him into the hall.

  'Would it be exceeding my authority to give you a goodnight hug, Sister Clarke?' he murmured with a rueful smile, and she smiled back and put her arms out and hugged him hard.

  'I'm sorry,' she murmured, and he squeezed her gently.

  'Don't be. I had it coming.'

  'Let's just forget it, can we?'

  'Sure.' Nick eased away from her slightly, so that his face was just above hers as she looked up at him, and for a moment he hesitated.

  Just one small kiss, his alter ego prodded. What harm can it do?

  He did kiss her, but on the cheek, a light brush of his lips against the milk-soft skin, and then he moved away, opening the door and letting himself out.

  'Night, Sally. Sleep well,' he said quietly, and then with a dull ache inside that no one else could ease, he drove away from her, back to his empty, lonely house that was crying out for the warmth of her personality.

  It wasn't only the house crying out for her, he thought heavily, but there was nothing he could do about it. She didn't want him, and that was that.

  He went up to the study, opened his books and stared at them blindly for an hour, then admitted defeat, had a shower and went to bed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  'So did you get your flowers?'

  'Flowers?' Sally looked curiously at Ryan. 'What flowers?'

  'Oh—nothing. Nick was asking about a florist— I must have misunderstood.' He looked a little embarrassed, but he wouldn't enlarge on it. In fact, he looked distinctly as if he thought he'd put his foot in it, and it puzzled her for a few minutes.

  She hadn't had any flowers—and she didn't have a birthday coming up, neither was it an impending anniversary of anything between them. How odd, she thought, and then the penny finally dropped.

  They weren't for her.

  He'd wanted to be friends. He'd bought condoms, when there was no likelihood of their relationship taking that particular twist in the road, and he'd been only too happy to backtrack and let her talk them both out of it.

  And since then he'd been remarkably circumspect.

  He was having an affair. He was having an affair, and he hadn't told her because they were only friends and as such it was none of her darned business.

  'Idiot,' she muttered, stalking off down the corridor and hoping she didn't run into him before she'd got her emotions under control. 'That's why he'd bought a house, to be near her. He didn't know you were here, it was just coincidence. Oh, you stupid, stupid fool.'

  She hid in her office for a while, as it was reasonably quiet, but after a few minutes there was a tap on the door and Sophie came in. Sally conjured up a smile from somewhere.

  'Hi. What can I do for you?'

  'Meg needs you—and I wanted to tell you I've sorted it out with Mum.'

  Sally blinked at the young nurse. Sorted it out? 'Oh—right. Your grandmother. Tell me,' she said, dragging her mind off Nick and back onto her job.

  'Mum's going to stay with her until we can find a home. We spoke to Gran, and she doesn't want to stay in her house any more. She's lonely in the day and frightened at night, and we thought we were doing what she wanted! Silly, isn't it? Anyway, I'm sorry about yesterday, and thanks for being so understanding.'

  'Anytime. As
they say, been there, done that. So, how busy is it out there at the moment? I just want to get this paperwork up to date—any chance? Does Meg need me now?'

  Sophie laughed. 'She does really. It's getting a bit clogged up in the waiting room, and Meg said could you come? There are lots of non-urgent things you could be dealing with, she said.'

  'Sure.' She put her pen back in her pocket and followed Sophie out of the office. Just so long as she didn't have to work alongside Nick, she'd be fine.

  She found Meg in triage, with a queue, and popped her head round the door.

  'It's like buses,' Meg said, rolling her eyes. 'Nothing for ages, then they all come at once. I think they're a bit overwhelmed out the back—any chance I can drag you away from that report to do some suturing and the like?'

  Sally chuckled. 'You know I hate writing reports. I'll have to do it some time, but just for now I'm sure I can be persuaded to help.'

  She left Meg dealing with her queue of patients, meaning to tackle the less urgent cases in order while Nick and Ryan and the other nurses dealt with the more urgent ones—only, of course, because life was like that, she ended up working alongside Nick instead.

  'You OK?' he asked softly in a tiny lull.

  'Sure. I'm fine,' she said, and she flashed him a smile and hoped the lie didn't show on her face. It was her own fault. She shouldn't have allowed herself to fall for him again—except she meant still, really, not again, because she'd never got over him the first time.

  She should have gone with him to Manchester all those years ago. She knew that now. Then he would have seen Amy, and they would still be together, or at least they would have had the chance, whereas now...

  Now he was doing what he'd done all along, found himself an available woman who didn't demand commitment, one who knew the rules. No, she'd done the right thing letting him go to Manchester alone. What she was doing wrong now was letting him get under her skin again.

  'Friends,' she muttered, and his brows twitched together.

  'Pardon?'

  'Nothing. Just thinking aloud. Right, what's next?'

  *

  Sally got through the day by being brisk and businesslike, and those that knew her well took a slight step back and kept out of her way. Ryan looked guilty every time she saw him because he'd let the cat out of the bag about the flowers, but it wasn't really his fault. He'd just guessed the wrong woman, obviously.

  Oh, well, forewarned was forearmed and all. that, so she ought to be grateful to Ryan, really. No doubt Nick would tell her at some point or let it slip, and then she'd just have to feign delight for him.

  Damn it, she should be delighted for him. She didn't want him to be lonely and unhappy. It was just the thought of him being with someone other than her that hurt so much.

  The rest of the week was a little better, because she'd spent a few hours howling to herself and had her emotions more under control. Anyway, they were too busy in the department for her to have time to think, and just when they were running at full stretch, they had a message from the maternity unit to say they were closing down and taking no new admissions, because of an outbreak of the MRSA virus.

  All maternity admissions now had to be sent to other hospitals, and the maternity block was going to be emptied and sterilised, from the reception area right through to the theatres. Only the outpatients clinics would keep running.

  This meant that anyone who was unable to get to another hospital would be funnelled via A and E, and they had an obstetric squad on standby for them.

  Not obstetrics, Sally thought wretchedly. Anything but obstetrics. However, they weren't deluged with babies, to her relief. Just the normal run-of-the-mill falls and sprains and cuts and so on, which kept her busy, and then just before lunch one of their regulars stumbled in, clutching a blood-soaked rag to his head and reeking of meths and the great unwashed, and Sally went and retrieved him from Reception where he was making a nuisance of himself and sat him down in a cubicle.

  Then, because he was very likely to be a source of all manner of infections, she snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

  'Now, Frank,' she said firmly in her best headmistress voice, 'I want you to sit still and let me look at your head.'

  'Cut m'self,' he mumbled, and she prised the sodden rag out of his hand and looked at the welling wound on his temple.

  'Yes, I can see you have. What on, any idea?'

  'Something hit me,' he slurred.

  'The pavement, I expect,' Sally muttered under her breath. 'OK, Frank, I'm going to clean it up. This might sting a bit.'

  She dabbed cautiously, and he yelled and lashed out at her with a surprisingly strong hand, unbalancing her. She would have fallen but for a pair of equally strong arms that closed around her and held her solidly against a very masculine chest.

  'OK?' Nick murmured in her ear, and when she nodded he let her go.

  'Right, Frank, let's not fight this, eh?' he said cheerfully, and crouched down, squinting at the nasty, grubby cut. 'When did you do this?'

  "S morning,' he mumbled. 'Fell down.'

  'OK, mate, let's get you on the couch, shall we?' Nick said firmly, and helped him out of his coat. 'All right, down you go—that's it.'

  'What's that?' Sally asked, pointing at his leg.

  'Good grief. Looks like blood—where's that coming from?'

  'Leg hurts,' he groaned, and Nick eased the broken top of a bottle out of his trouser pocket and raised an eyebrow.

  'OK, Frank, we're just going to take your trousers off. Sal, I think you'd better cut them so we can ease them away from there.'

  'He'll love that. I expect these are his best trousers. Still, we've got plenty more in our cupboard and they're cut to shreds anyway.' She started at the hem and snipped carefully all the way up to the waist, and as the material fell away with the tinkle of broken glass, they could see a nasty, oozing gash on his leg.

  'There's glass in that, I'm sure,' Nick said in a low undertone. 'We'd better have an X-ray.'

  Frank suddenly reared up and looked down at his legs, and lunged at Sally. 'What you doing to me, you mad woman? You cut my trousers up!'

  'It's all right, Frank, we'll get you new ones,' she promised, keeping safely out of reach this time. 'Just lie down and keep still or I might cut something else off by accident.'

  His eyes widened, and he lay down obediently and remained motionless while she cut up the other trouser leg and peeled the filthy, smelly garment away.

  'These, too, I think,' Nick murmured, indicating the stained and reeking underpants, and she snipped them off and dropped them into a bag with the trousers, leaving Frank squirming and indignant on the couch.

  'Here—preserve your modesty,' she said, tucking a blanket round him but leaving his leg exposed.

  'I think I might admit him,' Nick said thoughtfully. 'Twenty-four hours in here to dry out and have a good scrub would do you the world of good, don't you think, Frank?'

  'Not staying here—they'll cut my clothes off while I'm asleep!' he said, clutching at the blanket.

  'He won't stay,' Sally told him. 'He never does. Just get the glass out if you can, sew him up and send him home.'

  'Has he got one?'

  'Oh, yes. You've got a nice little house, haven't you, Frank? You just don't spend much time in it. You'd rather be here with us.'

  He snorted, and Nick filled out the X-ray request and went off to deal with another patient, chuckling under his breath.

  The X-ray showed a couple of shards of glass deep in the cut, and while Sally cleaned up Frank's head and stuck the edges of the cut together with Steristrips, Nick gave him a local anaesthetic and dug about in the cut on his leg until he'd found the glass, compared the little slivers to the film and declared himself satisfied.

  'I'll let you sew him up,' he said cheerfully to Sally, and she rolled her eyes and settled down to stitch it. Frank, for once, made it easy for her by passing out and snoring loudly, and she then had the difficult task of waking him to send hi
m home.

  She and Sophie gave him a blanket bath while they had him there, ostensibly to cut down infection round the wound in his leg, and then they found him new pants and socks and trousers from their clothing cupboard.

  'Don't suppose there's a shirt, is there?' Frank asked hopefully, and Sally had to admit the one he was wearing had seen better days. They found .him a fresh one with more life in it, and then she gave him a penicillin injection and a tetanus booster and sent him off to the pharmacy to get his prescription.

  'Do you think he'll get it?' Sophie asked, and Sally shrugged.

  'I doubt it. He's probably found a cleaning cupboard open and nicked the meths out of it already.'

  Sophie chuckled, but Sally meant every word. Frank was a worry, and one day he'd come to a sticky and untimely end. Still, there was nothing they could do but put him back together again until, like Humpty Dumpty, all the king's horses and all the king's men didn't have the technology.

  'This place reeks,' Sally said, wrinkling her nose, and she called the domestic staff to come and douse the place with disinfectant and clean it from end to end.

  'Right, I've had enough of this,' she announced. 'I'm going to take over from Meg and do some triage while she has lunch.'

  'Don't you want lunch?' Sophie asked, and she laughed.

  'After Frank? I'd gag if I tried to eat. Maybe later when the smell's worn off.'

  She chivvied Meg out of the triage room and took over, and dealt with a steady trickle of non-urgent and minor injuries. She was beginning to think she'd been better off at the back when there was a diversion that completely took her breath away.

  Nick was busy in Resus, working with Angela after a little sleight of hand on Sally's behalf, and she was just restocking the gauze pads and paper towels when a familiar middle-aged woman walked in and hesitated.

  She was obviously looking for something or someone, and Sally was just racking her brains to work out who she was when the woman turned and caught sight of her.

  'Sally!' she exclaimed, and then a smile that she would have recognised anywhere lit up those too-familiar blue eyes, and the penny dropped.

  'Mrs Baker! Hi—how are you?'