by Kate Hardy
He thought about it. ‘Yes. I would. I don’t think I’m as good with people as you are... But I’d try.’
‘Well, then.’ She smiled at him. ‘Go home.’
‘And plan what I’m going to say, right?’
‘Right. Just keep it simple and honest,’ she said, and released his hand.
Which was probably just as well, because he was very tempted to wrap his arms round her. To hold her. And it wasn’t just gratitude. It was other feelings prompting him, things he wasn’t used to feeling and which scared him and thrilled him in equal measure.
And then there was the guilt. How could he even be noticing another woman like this, when he’d just spilled out his heart about losing Hestia? Even though he knew Hestia wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life grieving for her and he needed to move on, it still felt like a betrayal of sorts.
He needed to get his head together. Be cool, logical and unflappable, like the surgeon he was at work. ‘OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘You bet.’
He walked back to his flat, and her words echoed in his head all the way.
‘If he’d been the man I thought he was when I married him, and he was the one who’d been left behind, I would’ve wanted him to find happiness again. To meet someone who could give him the love I didn’t have time to give.’
Jamie knew that was what Hestia would’ve wanted for him, too. She would’ve been furious that he’d wallowed in despair for three years.
Find happiness.
Meet someone.
All the breath suddenly left his lungs when he realised that he had met someone. Someone who was changing the way he was seeing the world and was teaching him to find happiness. Someone who’d been through the mill herself. Anna Maskell was bringing light back into his life; and maybe, just maybe, he could be the one who did the same for her.
He thought about that all the rest of the way home.
And then it was easy to write those texts to his family. Keeping the words simple and heartfelt and honest.
Hi. I’m sorry I’ve shut you out for the last three years. I’ve been finding it hard coming to terms with Hestia and Giselle dying. But I want you to know I love you and I’m trying to find my way back to some kind of normal. Please don’t give up on me.
He waited until the morning to send them, not wanting to worry anyone with a late-night message.
What he hadn’t expected was how quickly the replies came, his phone pinging almost immediately after he’d sent them. His mother, his sisters, his mother-in-law, Hestia’s sister. And they were all variations on a theme.
I love you too and I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.
Tears filled his eyes. Anna had been right. His family were all ready to reach out over that gulf, to meet him halfway. But, without her pushing him, he would never have been able to make that first step and reach out to them.
Anna Maskell, he decided, was getting the biggest bouquet of flowers ever.
He didn’t manage to see her during the day, because she was busy with clinic and ward rounds and he was in Theatre, so instead he texted her during a break.
You busy tonight?
The reply came back.
Sorry. Going to Zumba with my sister-in-law and then a family dinner.
So he couldn’t call round to her place tonight with the flowers, then.
His phone pinged again with another message from Anna.
Am free tomorrow, if you want to do something.
This was his chance to move on. Instead of leaving all the Christmas stuff to her, he could make an effort. Suggest something. Meet her halfway.
Maybe we can go and see some Christmas lights?
The Regent Street angels?
That’s fine. I’ll meet you at your flat at seven. Maybe we can grab dinner, before or after.
Love to.
It wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. It was just part of their Christmas bargain. Except maybe now he could start to move forward and do things for her, too. Help her move past the hurt Johnny had inflicted and see just what an amazing woman she was.
Any man would be lucky to have Anna Maskell as his partner.
Could he be that man?
Although part of him was terrified at the idea of opening himself up to another relationship and risking the possibility of loss, another part of him wanted to be that man. Because the alternative was Anna meeting someone else and settling down with him. Jamie wanted Anna to be happy, but the thought of it being with someone who wasn’t him made him feel miserable.
He needed to do the right thing by her. Help her see how wonderful she was, give her the courage to move past Johnny’s betrayal and give her heart to someone who deserved her. A man who could give her the family she wanted, deep down.
And he wanted to be the man who deserved her. Did he have the courage to take that risk? Given her infertility, any pregnancy would be extremely high risk—if the treatment even worked in the first place. IVF had no guarantees. Even suggesting it was like offering false hope, something he might not be able to deliver. But there were other options. Surrogacy. Fostering. Adoption,
Could he move on and risk loving again?
Could he make Anna happy?
Or should he put her first and just back off?
CHAPTER SEVEN
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING Anna saw Lily during her ward rounds, then called back in later to see her with a sudoku magazine.
Lily beamed. ‘That’s really nerdy—and really kind. Thank you. I love these sorts of puzzles.’
‘Pleasure.’ Anna smiled back at her. ‘Well, hey, I was wondering what a maths wizard might like to do to pass the time between visitors—and hopefully you’ll make some friends on the ward, too, so you can chat to people here.’
‘Jamie came to see me earlier,’ Lily said. ‘Mum helped me get out of bed and I took two whole steps in front of him, and he was really pleased.’
‘I bet he was. Keep up the good work. The physio’s coming back to see you this afternoon,’ Anna said with a smile.
Jamie.
She still couldn’t quite believe that he’d actually suggested doing a Christmas thing rather than leaving all the plans to her. Was this a sign that he was starting to heal and getting ready to move on? Was Christmas finally losing its sting for him?
She really hoped that he’d contacted his family; and she hoped even more that they’d reacted the same way her family would have reacted, reaching back out to him.
Though she was going to have to be careful. Jamie had lost his wife and child; so it was a fair bet that, when he was ready to move on again, he’d want someone who could give him a family without complications. Which meant moving on with someone other than her. She couldn’t afford to think of Jamie Thurston as anything other than a friend and a colleague—no matter how tempting his gorgeous blue eyes and shy smile were.
Her life was full and it was good. Plenty of people struggled on with far more problems than she had. Wanting more was simply greedy, and she’d count her blessings.
* * *
At five to seven that evening, Jamie stood outside Anna’s front door, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers. He’d ordered them from a local florist the previous day, asking for something pretty and Christmassy. The florist had made an arrangement with deep red roses, cream-coloured freesias, and then eryngium that had been sprayed silver, teamed with the silvery green foliage of eucalyptus and the deeper green leaves of laurel.
He rang the bell; a few moments later, she opened the door, smiling a welcome at him. ‘Hey. Perfect timing. I’m just about to put my boots on and find wherever I put my gloves.’
‘These are for you,’ he said, and handed her the bouquet. ‘I hope you like them.’
‘For me? Thank you. They’re absolutely gorgeous. I love th
em.’ Her eyes widened. ‘But it’s not my birthday or anything.’
‘It’s because you’ve really helped me and I wanted to say thank you.’
‘Oh.’ Her cheeks flushed, making her look incredibly pretty. He really wanted to kiss her, right there and then, but he held himself back.
‘So does that mean we’ve done enough festive things now to make this time of year easier for you, and you’re going to be my Father Christmas on the ward?’ she asked.
‘I’m still thinking about it. I’m not quite ready to say yes,’ he said.
Though what he wasn’t admitting, even to himself, was that he didn’t want his Christmassy trips with Anna to end. He was starting to look forward to them, and it wasn’t just that she was taking the sting out of Christmas for him. It was because he enjoyed her company. Being with her made the world feel like a much warmer, sweeter place. He liked who he was when he was with her. But was he being selfish? Should he step aside and let her find someone who really could bring her happiness, someone without all the emotional baggage and complications that came with him? Or, with her help, could he become the man who’d bring her the joy she deserved?
‘OK. I need to put these in water before we go out. Come in while I grab a vase.’
In her kitchen, Jamie noticed all the children’s paintings held onto the door of her fridge with magnets. He hadn’t noticed them on Monday night, when he’d still been numb and despairing; but now he could see how much she was loved by her nieces and nephews, and how much she clearly loved them.
‘These flowers really are spectacular,’ she said, filling a vase and putting the bouquet into water. ‘I still don’t think I’ve done anything special to deserve them, but I really appreciate them.’
‘Actually, you’ve done way more than you think,’ he said. ‘I texted my mum, my sisters and Hestia’s mum and sister yesterday morning just before I left for work. Like you suggested, I kept it simple and honest. I apologised for pushing them away and said I was finding it hard to deal with what happened, but I wanted to let them know that I loved them.’
‘Good,’ she said. Then she met his gaze head-on. ‘Did they reply?’
‘All of them. Before I’d even got halfway to the hospital.’ He could still hardly believe it, and shook his head in wonderment. ‘All of them said they loved me, too, and would be there whenever I wanted to see them or talk. They understood and they’d wait until I was ready.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said.
So was he.
They headed out to see the Christmas lights in Regent Street: angels with enormous wings and draping skirts made from twinkly lights. Jamie couldn’t help thinking of Hestia, and the times he’d seen her on stage wearing an ankle-length gauzy skirt; how often he’d thought she’d danced like an angel. Looking up at the lights, he almost felt as if she approved of what he was doing. That he was looking to rejoin the world and find happiness again.
‘They’re glorious. Apparently it’s a nod to the very first Christmas lights that were put up here in the nineteen-fifties,’ she said, ‘because they were angels, too.’
As they walked down towards Bond Street, their hands brushed against each other. Once, twice; the third time, Jamie couldn’t help catching Anna’s fingers loosely in his. She didn’t pull away; and gradually, as they walked, he let his fingers mesh more closely with hers until they were really holding hands.
* * *
This was how Anna remembered feeling as a teen, with her skin tingling with nerves and excitement as she held her boyfriend’s hand for the very first time.
Except she was thirty-four, not fourteen. And Jamie Thurston wasn’t a skinny boy with terrible skin and greasy hair. They’d both had their hearts broken and were at different stages of putting the pieces back together.
If she had any sense, she’d make some excuse to drop his hand—fake-sneezing into a tissue or something like that—and she’d chatter brightly to him and keep him at a distance. Firmly in the friend zone. This wasn’t a date.
But, for the life of her, right at that moment she couldn’t help holding his hand just as tightly as he was holding hers.
They strolled down to Bond Street to see the peacock-inspired lights, the beautiful fan-shaped display spanning the whole street at one end, and then individual peacock feathers peeking out from behind them in silver and gold, the ‘eye’ of the feather gradually changing colour.
Speaking would break the spell, she thought, so she said nothing until they turned into a side street and found a pop-up Christmas street food market.
‘Shall we?’ Jamie asked—though he didn’t let go of her hand.
Food. He meant food. He wasn’t talking about kissing her under non-existent mistletoe, Anna reminded herself, even though her lips were tingling slightly in anticipation.
‘Dinner sounds good,’ she said, hearing the huskiness in her own voice and wincing slightly.
He was still holding her hand as they chose dinner—Christmas spiced turkey empanadas with cranberry chilli salsa, which tasted even better than they sounded, and then rich squares of Christmas pudding brownie, sprayed gold and with a swirl of cinnamon cream and a glacé cherry on top.
He held her hand again all the way back to the Tube station, all the way back on the train, and all the way from the station to her front door.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ he said.
‘I enjoyed it, too.’ She paused. ‘Do you want to come in for coffee?’
Her hair was loose, and he tucked a strand behind her ear. ‘Yes. And no.’
She frowned. ‘Is that some weird kind of surgical puzzle?’
‘It’s me saying I want to spend time with you, but it’s complicated and it’s probably fairer to both of us if I don’t.’
She looked down at their joined hands. ‘I see.’ Which was totally untrue. She was more confused than ever. Was this a thing, or wasn’t it? Were they friends, or finding their way towards something else?
He kissed her cheek. ‘This scares the hell out of me. You’re the first person who’s made me feel anything at all since Hestia died. Which is a good thing—but it’s also something I need to get my head around.’
‘I haven’t dated anyone since Johnny,’ she admitted. And in some ways Jamie was the worst man she could date. Being with him was a huge risk. He’d already lost so much. Would she be enough for him? What if he decided further down the line that he wanted a child of his own? That would put her right back in the same place she’d been with Johnny, unable to give her man the one thing he really wanted: a baby. And, although she didn’t think Jamie would deliberately hurt her, she’d once believed that about Johnny. Could she really trust her judgement?
Or maybe she was overthinking this. ‘Though tonight wasn’t a date.’
‘Agreed. It was part of our Christmas bargain. But if you drew a Venn diagram I think there would be quite a crossover.’ This time, Jamie kissed the corner of her mouth.
She rested her palm against his cheek. ‘So we’re going to take this slowly. See where it goes. Just between you and me. No pushing, no rushing, no pressure.’ Less risk, though she wasn’t quite brave enough to admit that.
‘That works for me.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You’re going indoors now and I’m going back to my own place. As you said, no rushing. Just...’ He wrapped his free arm around her and held her close. ‘See you tomorrow.’
She wrapped her free arm around him, still holding his hand and enjoying the closeness. ‘See you tomorrow.’
And funny how the world seemed different, the colours brighter.
* * *
On Friday morning, Anna and Jamie were in clinic with Michael Jeffries, a teenager who’d been caught up in a bad tackle during a football game and had torn his anterior cruciate ligament.
‘I saw the other doctor,’ he said, ‘and she said I’d torn my ACL b
ut there was a lot of swelling, so I had to wait for that to go down and a full range of movement to return before she could even think of operating.’ He grimaced. ‘I couldn’t even turn on the spot. She said I could do swimming and have physio for the last month to keep my quads and my hams strong, but I wasn’t allowed to do anything where I’d turn, jump or twist.’
‘Which must’ve made you a bit stir-crazy,’ Anna said sympathetically.
‘Yeah. I hated it. I couldn’t wait for today. Football’s my life,’ Michael said. ‘Please tell me you’re going to be able to fix my knee. I’ve got a place at the football academy. If I can’t play, they’ll give it to someone else and I’ll be out. I’ll have lost...’ He shook his head, clearly close to tears.
Anna glanced at Jamie, willing him to give the boy some hope.
‘The good news is I can fix your knee,’ Jamie said, ‘but the bad news is that you’re not going to recover overnight. It’ll take at least six months, and realistically it could be as much as a year before you can return to full training.’
‘A whole year?’ Michael looked horrified.
‘A year,’ Jamie said. ‘And let’s be very clear about this—if you go back to training before you’re ready, you could do more damage to your knee, to the point where I wouldn’t be able to fix it next time.’
Michael stared at them, his eyes wide. ‘If I can’t play football, my life might as well be over. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I...’ He blew out a breath. ‘I have to play. I have to.’
‘You’ll be able to play again,’ Jamie said, ‘provided you give yourself proper recovery time.’
‘Do you want your dad to come in?’ Anna asked gently.
Michael shook his head. ‘He’ll be so disappointed in me.’
‘It’s not your fault you got hurt in a tackle,’ Jamie reminded him. He brought the scan image up onto the screen of his computer and tilted the screen so Michael could see it. ‘You can see the damage for yourself. The ligament’s torn very badly.’