by Kate Hardy
OK, so his failed kidneys meant his exploring would be very much limited in the future. Technically, there was no reason why he couldn’t try to stay in one place. No reason why he couldn’t offer Florence more than just a fling. But he’d never managed to make his relationships last before. What was to say he could do it now? The last thing he wanted to do was start something where she’d end up hurt when he walked away. So, even though part of him thought that Florence might be different—she held his interest, the way nobody had before, and he could be still, with her—it wasn’t fair to her to take that risk and let her down.
Which meant he’d just have to suppress all of these wayward feelings towards her.
And, much as he hated it, he knew he needed to rest. The more he rested now, the quicker he’d be better, and the quicker he could be on the move again. The quicker he could move out of Florence’s flat again. The safer they’d both be.
Still feeling a bit out of sorts, he started up a game of virtual chess with Ollie.
His brother texted back.
Rob, it’s Sunday. If you’re off duty today, want to come over and play this properly instead of virtually?
Yes. And no. He texted back.
Sorry, Olls, can’t do today.
He knew that Ollie would assume he was working and had simply made the chess move during a break.
Maybe next week?
He definitely didn’t want to see his twin until he was looking a lot more normal, because he didn’t want Oliver worrying about him.
He messaged his mum next.
Just checking in. You and Dad OK? All fine here. Love you. x
His mother replied straight away.
Are you ill?
He lied.
No. Why would you think that?
Had his mother developed some weird sort of sixth sense?
You’re sounding soppy.
That made him smile. Of course he did. How well she knew him. He texted back.
Sometimes my job makes me appreciate my family.
Which was true. He wasn’t actually at work right now; though he rather hoped she’d take the implication that he was. It wasn’t an outright barefaced lie; more of an insinuation.
Having a rubbish shift? Come for dinner tonight. Roast chicken and extra-crispy roast potatoes. Apple crumble and custard.
Things she knew would always tempt him. But if she saw him like this she’d be horrified and worried sick. Not that he felt like driving—and if he got a taxi she’d worry that he obviously wasn’t well enough to drive. He could ask Florence to go with him, but that would lead to such a knot of complications he wouldn’t be able even to begin to untangle it. So it was better to stick to bare bones and offer an alternative, just as he had to Oliver.
Sorry. Maybe next weekend?
All right. See you then. Talk to you in the week. Love you. x
I’d better be back to normal by then, he thought.
Love you, too, Mum. Say hi to Dad for me. x
So Rob was organising dinner? Florence was impressed.
Thank you. Food at Golden Lion great. Gnocchi for me, please. About seven? Am calling in at Lexy’s on my way home.
The reply came almost immediately.
Perfect. Will arrange. Pudding?
No, but thanks for the offer.
What, you’re saying no to salted caramel profiteroles??? Shocking!
She could just imagine him smiling as he typed. Those stunning blue eyes, flickering with mischief as he tried to tempt her. That beautiful mouth... Instead of repeating a polite refusal, she found herself typing back.
Go halves on the profiteroles?
Works for me. *Yum*. See you later. x
This was ridiculous. They weren’t actually dating, even though they’d slept together. And yet this felt light-hearted and sweet, like an exchange between people who’d just started dating each other. Exciting. Full of potential. He’d even typed a kiss; or maybe that was just Rob being his exuberant self and she was overthinking this. Though, for a second, Florence could imagine sitting across an intimate bistro table from him, reaching across to offer him a taste of something from her plate...
Oh, help. She really needed to be careful. She liked the man she was getting to know and it would be all too easy to fall for him. How could she let herself fall for someone who’d made it clear he wasn’t going to be around for long? That was the quickest way to risk having her heart broken again. Stupid. She needed to keep him firmly in the friend zone and resist the temptation to make it anything more. Though the more time she spent with Rob, the more she was starting to think that he’d be worth taking the chance on.
On her way home from her shift, Florence called in at her sister’s house for a mug of tea and cuddles with her nieces.
‘Aunty Floss, Aunty Floss, look at me doing a pirouette!’ Anna said.
‘And me!’ said Darcey, not to be outdone.
‘I’m a ballet-saurus doing a bourrée,’ Margot announced, and ran after her sisters on tiptoe, pretending to roar.
‘Girls, you’re exhausting,’ Lexy said. But she was smiling. ‘Go and show Daddy your new routines, so I can have five minutes with Aunty Floss.’
‘OK. Get the grilling over with,’ Florence said when her nieces had scampered away.
‘So why did you call off going to the park with us yesterday? Were you on a date with Transition Man?’ Lexy asked.
Florence sighed. ‘Don’t call him that.’
‘So you were seeing him.’
‘Not in the way you think. He’s my temporary house guest.’
‘Oh? How come?’ Lexy looked intrigued.
‘Don’t get ideas. It’s platonic,’ Florence insisted. ‘He was taken ill at work. He thought it might be his body rejecting the donor kidney, but thankfully it turned out to be an infection. So he’s staying in my spare room for a few days until he’s better.’
Lexy grinned. ‘So you’re playing doctors and nurses with him? I love it.’
‘No, I am not. And also not in the sense you mean.’ Florence folded her arms and glared at her sister. ‘I would’ve done the same for anyone else on my team, if they’d been in his shoes.’
‘But,’ Lexy said, ‘that doesn’t alter the fact that you spent the night with him after your department’s Christmas dinner. Or the fact that you really like him.’
‘Lexy, that’s irrelevant. I’m fine as I am,’ Florence fibbed.
‘Florence Emily Jacobs, remember what happened to Pinocchio,’ Lexy warned. ‘I know a fib when I hear it. You’re lonely. And you’re still letting Dan and his behaviour control you. Otherwise you’d be dating again and finding someone you want to spend time with, instead of locking yourself away to protect your heart.’
‘I’m not locking myself away,’ Florence protested, even though she knew her sister had a point.
‘Transition Man is staying with you, so it’s a good chance to get to know him better.’ Lexy paused, her eyes narrowing. ‘One thing. I get that he’s ill, but you’ve done a full shift today. I hope you’re not planning to cook dinner and wait on him hand and foot when you get home?’
‘No. He texted me with a menu this morning and he’s ordering dinner for us both from The Golden Lion.’
‘That’s an improvement on Dan—who would definitely be a contender for the World’s Most Selfish Man Award,’ Lexy said. ‘The more I hear about Transition Man, the more I like the sound of him.’
‘Don’t get ideas,’ Florence warned. ‘We’re colleagues. We might become friends. But he’s not going to be around for more than a couple of months, so there’s no point in starting anything.’
Lexy sighed. ‘I won’t nag. Well, not much. But, y’know, if the sex was good...what’s the harm in having a mad fling with him?’
‘Alexandra! You have children
about!’ Florence said in a scandalised stage whisper.
‘They’re busy showing Max their latest dance routine. We’ll hear the second they’re on their way back here and need to watch what we say in front of them,’ Lexy said, completely unabashed. ‘I know you hate me calling him “Transition Man”, but I do think you should consider making him that. It might be good for both of you.’
‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Florence groaned. ‘I love you, Lexy, but please can we just change the subject?’
The girls came running back in, then, and of course Florence had to cuddle all three of them, listen to Margot reading a story, praise Anna’s drawing and handwriting, and sing nursery rhymes and clap along to songs with Darcey.
She adored every second she spent with her nieces, and was grateful to Lexy for being so generous with her children. But, on the way home, Florence thought again how much she would’ve loved children of her own. Dan had said he only wanted children that were his own flesh and blood; but had that been an excuse? Considering how quickly he’d accepted being a dad to the children of his new partner, did that mean he thought Florence wouldn’t be any good as a mum? And, if so, just what had been so wrong with her?
She shook herself. ‘Stop the pity party,’ she told herself out loud. ‘You’re lucky. You’re close to Lexy and the girls, you have good friends, and you love your job.’
That was enough.
It would have to be enough.
She walked into her flat to find the table laid ready for dinner, and everything was neat and tidy.
Rob greeted her with a smile. ‘Hey. How was your shift?’
Dan hadn’t asked her that for years before their split. And she ought to stop comparing Rob with her ex. They were very, very different. ‘Fine, thanks. You’re looking better today,’ she said.
‘I feel a lot more human,’ he said. ‘Did you have a nice time with your sister and the girls?’
‘I did. And I have more drawings for the fridge.’ She produced them from her bag and swapped them over from the last three. ‘I’ll put these in a file,’ she said, scooping up the ones she’d taken from the display. ‘Something for the girls to look back on when they’re older—and they’ll know that I valued them enough to keep them.’
‘That’s nice,’ he said. ‘It’s good for kids to know they’re valued. I’m pretty sure our parents have still got every drawing Ollie and I ever did, even the scribbles.’
Rob clearly had a good relationship with his parents and his brother, so he was capable of being a family man. ‘Do you want kids of your own, one day?’ The words spilled out before she could stop them.
But he didn’t look in the least bit offended by her nosiness; and he didn’t seem at all thrown by her question. ‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to being an uncle when Oliver and Gemma get round to starting a family—but, given that I’m not great at sticking around, I don’t think I’d be a very good dad.’
Which didn’t quite answer her question. She hadn’t asked if he thought he’d be a good dad; she’d asked if he wanted to be a dad at all. But pressing him for clarification would make things awkward. She shouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. Instead, she changed the subject. Their meal arrived, ten minutes later, and she managed to keep the small talk going for the rest of the evening.
One thing she was clear on, though, by the time Rob admitted he was shattered and needed to head for bed: whatever Lexy had suggested, and however tempting she found him, Robert Langley couldn’t be her transition man. If Florence let him that close again, she wouldn’t want to let him go—and he’d made it plain that he wasn’t the sort to stay. And, even if he did stay, how did she know she’d be enough for him? How did she know he wouldn’t see the same flaws in her that Dan had seen and leave her for someone else?
She didn’t think Rob was the type to cheat—he had more integrity than Dan—but surely he needed someone who shared his wanderlust? Florence didn’t want to travel the world or sleep under the stars in the middle of a desert. She wanted a home and a family, a garden and a dog and blissful domesticity: everything that Rob had hinted he didn’t want. So it’d be sensible to avoid the heartbreak by keeping him at a professional distance.
* * *
On Monday, Florence had a case that made her think about Rob. The way the boy’s mother described him was exactly the way Rob had described himself as a child: and the patient had been diagnosed with ADHD. It made her wonder. During her break, she did a bit of research on her phone. The more she read about ADHD, the more she thought it sounded like Rob. And he was bright; if he hadn’t struggled academically at school, nobody would’ve picked it up then.
She’d seen for herself how frustrated he got when he couldn’t be up and about, doing things. Maybe this was the root of it. And, if it was, maybe knowing that would help him.
She was still mulling it over when she walked into her kitchen that evening and something smelled gorgeous.
‘Perfect timing. Chicken stir-fry, as promised,’ Rob said.
How nice it was to have someone actually cook for her. To share: something she and Dan hadn’t done for months before he’d walked out. ‘Thank you. I feel very spoiled,’ she said.
‘That was the idea.’ He dished up, and sat opposite her.
‘This is pretty impressive, from someone who claims he can’t cook,’ she said after her first taste.
‘I didn’t say I can’t cook. I said I don’t cook anything that takes more than five minutes,’ he reminded her. ‘So how was your day?’
‘Fine. I was in Minors.’ She looked at him. ‘Actually, there was a case I think you might find interesting. I had a boy in this afternoon who’d fiddled with his pen when he got bored in class, taken it to pieces and ended up with the spring jammed in his palm. I had to send him to X-Ray to make sure I wasn’t going to damage anything when I removed it.’
Rob grinned. ‘That sounds exactly like the sort of thing I would’ve done as a kid.’
Just what she’d thought, too.
‘Mum always brings up my first day at school. Apparently, I was at the bottom of the playing field and climbing a tree before the teachers realised what I was doing—and then I fell out of the tree.’
She stared at him in shock. ‘That’s terrible! Were you badly hurt?’
‘Nope. I didn’t even have a bruise. Though I did break my arm twice during my time at infant school. Running on ice isn’t the most sensible thing to do, and I’m afraid I didn’t learn my lesson well enough the first time round,’ he admitted.
‘So you were the adventurous child in the class?’ she asked.
‘I was the fidget with a low boredom threshold,’ he said. ‘For everyone else, the highlight of the day was story time. For me, it was torture. There was nothing worse than having to sit still and listen for what felt like years. I’d far rather have been running round the field.’
‘You didn’t think about becoming an athlete rather than a rock star, then?’
He looked surprised, then pleased, that she’d remembered what he’d told her about his teenage band. ‘No. One of the teachers thought I needed something to challenge myself, and he suggested I try climbing. I loved it. It was an obvious next step from climbing to joining the mountain rescue team, then think about a career in medicine.’
‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘You say you’ve always had itchy feet.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘More than that. I think I got Ollie’s share, too.’
‘Have you ever thought there might be a reason for that?’
‘Such as?’
She looked awkwardly at him. ‘This is going to sound a bit rude, so I apologise in advance. The lad I told you about with the spring stuck in his hand, today—you said it sounded like you.’
He frowned, as if wondering where she was going with this. �
�Yes.’
‘His mum said he has a very low boredom threshold. He’s always fidgeting. Very bright.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘He was diagnosed with ADHD, a couple of years back.’
Rob stared at her. ‘Are you saying you think I have ADHD?’
‘I can’t really make a clinical judgement because it’s not my field. But I was thinking,’ she said, ‘it might be an explanation for the way you feel. Why you get frustrated quickly. Why you need to move.’
‘Nobody’s ever suggested...’ He thought about it. ‘No. I can’t be on the spectrum. Otherwise Oliver would have ADHD, too.’
‘The siblings of someone with ADHD are more likely to have it, too,’ she said, ‘but that’s not always the case.’
‘But Ollie’s my twin.’
‘I know, but are you actually identical?’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry. That’s a stupid question. But my best friend’s brothers look very like each other, enough for people to confuse them, and they’re not twins.’
‘Actually, that’s a fair question. We always thought we were identical, until the transplant. Obviously they had to check, as part of the work-ups, and it seems we have some differences between us in DNA.’
‘That’s possible?’ she asked, surprised.
‘There’s something called a copy number variant,’ he said. ‘Normally you get two copies of every gene, one inherited from each parent. But some areas in the genome have up to fourteen copies of a gene, and that’s where you can have variations. Plus, as you get older, your DNA changes due to environmental factors. So even if you start off as identical—monozygotic—twins, you’re not actually going to be identical by the time you get to later life.’
‘I had no idea that was even possible.’
‘Neither did we,’ he said. ‘I don’t know enough about the genetic side of ADHD but, if it involves a copy number variant, that might explain why Ollie and I are so different, given we were brought up the same way.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘At one point, I thought there might be something in the whole “good twin, bad twin” thing.’
‘There’s nothing bad about you,’ she said.