The Perfect Christmas
Author
Caroline Anderson
Reads
19.7K
Chapters
10
Chapter 1
JULIA glanced at her watch and sighed, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel. She was going to be late on the ward—and today, of all days, with a new consultant surgeon starting, an operations list a mile long and new admissions that had come in over the weekend to sort out.
Something had obviously happened at the roundabout up ahead, bringing the traffic, such as it was, to a grinding halt on the inner ring road. Another minor shunt, probably. It was always happening. If only she’d left earlier, but Katie had been difficult and it was a miracle she was here even now. She glanced at her watch again. It was ten to seven, and if they didn’t get moving in the next couple of minutes, she would definitely be late.
She peered ahead into the winter darkness and wished it was daylight so she could see what was going on. If she could only creep forward a little further, she could take the side road and cut through to the hospital that way, but if there were any casualties, she really ought to go and help.
Torn between her various obligations, she hesitated for a moment, but then someone’s headlights picked up a running figure darting from car to car, calling out. With a sinking feeling she opened her door and stood up, half out of the car, and the man saw her and ran towards her. ‘Got any first-aid experience?’ he asked. ‘One of the drivers is bleeding badly.’
‘I’m a nurse,’ she replied, resigning herself to being late. She squeezed her car off the road, locked it and ran towards the roundabout, arriving at the scene just as a solidly built man wrenched open the door of one of the cars and stuck his head inside.
‘Where’s the casualty?’ she asked the man who’d hailed her, and he pointed at the person who’d just opened the door.
‘In there. It’s a woman. That man’s just got the door open—it was jammed.’
‘Can someone call the ambulances?’ she said, heading for the car at a run, and several people confirmed that it had been done already. Good. Hopefully they’d soon be here and she could get on her way.
Tucking her long fair hair behind her ears, she leant over the man who was obstructing her view of the driver. All she could see was a pair of massive shoulders filling the gap, but the smell of blood was unmistakable. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, but he didn’t move, so she tried again, firming up her voice and injecting more authority. ‘Can you let me see her? I’m a nurse.’
He lifted his head a fraction and turned it, and she caught a glimpse of a strong profile in the reflected streetlight before he spoke, his voice deep and calm and confident. ‘A nurse? Excellent. I’m a doctor—you can give me a hand. I can’t let go of this one—her necklace is embedded in her throat and I think she’s nicked her carotid artery judging by the way she’s pumping blood out all over me. She reeks of alcohol as well—I think she’s been partying. Whatever, I can’t let go of her neck and her passenger’s injured, too. Can you check him?’
‘Sure,’ she agreed, glad someone who knew what they were doing was in charge of the bleeding woman. ‘What about the people in the other cars? Have you seen any of them?’
‘I think they’re out and walking around—more shaken up than anything. These two were definitely going faster, judging by the damage to the car and the position of it.’
As she made her way to the passenger side of the car, Julia glanced around. Two people were wandering around looking dazed, staring at their damaged vehicle. It was by the central island of the roundabout, its front quarter smashed, and the car with the injured driver had obviously cut in front of it and was half up the roundabout’s grassy centre, the remains of a road sign jutting out from under the bonnet. It had clearly come to an abrupt halt, and it looked as if the driver just simply hadn’t seen the roundabout coming.
Two other cars were slewed across the roundabout, adding to the confusion, but the damage to them was slight and the occupants were obviously all right.
She tugged open the passenger door and checked the other occupant of the first car. He was groggy but conscious, bleeding from a cut on his forehead and clutching his knees and moaning. No seat belt, she noticed, and wondered how on earth he hadn’t just gone straight through the windscreen. She looked up at her impromptu colleague just as he lifted his head, and her eyes were caught by his, strangely piercing, like sunlight through rain. Her own eyes were grey, but not like that! Not that amazing grey that was almost silver. They took her breath away.
‘Knees and head,’ she told him after a moment, trying to concentrate, and he nodded.
‘Don’t think he had a belt on—idiot. He’s lucky to be alive. How’s his spine?’
‘Suspect, I should think,’ she said, eyeing the man’s crouched position on the edge of the seat. He was slumped at a strange angle, but at least he could feel his knees. He might not think so just at the moment, but that was definitely a good sign.
A siren sounded in the distance, and the paramedics ran up to them. The doctor detailed his findings, Julia did the same, and within a few minutes their patients were handed over and whisked away. Another ambulance had arrived and was checking out the people from the other cars, and the police asked Julia and her companion if they’d seen anything.
‘It had happened when I arrived,’ she told them, and they took her name and address and let her go. She ran back to her car, wiped her hands on a rag she used for the windscreen and drove to the hospital by the back route, abandoned her car in the car park and arrived on her ward, bloodstained and grubby, a mere half-hour late.
‘What on earth have you been doing?’ the night sister asked, eyeing her in amazement.
Julia snorted. ‘Roadside rescue,’ she said succinctly. ‘Give me a minute to change into my spare uniform and have a quick scrub, and I’ll be with you.’
In fact, it was only her coat that was bloodstained. Her tunic top had escaped, and her trousers were only slightly damp on the knees from kneeling on the road. Still, she changed completely, scrubbing her hands thoroughly just to be on the safe side before going back to the office.
‘Here,’ the night sister said, putting a cup of tea into her hand, and she took it gratefully and buried her nose in it.
‘Oh, gorgeous, Angie, thanks,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s really chilly out there.’
‘Was that the cause, do you think?’
Julia wrinkled her nose. ‘Maybe. She might have skidded on a little patch of ice, but I think it’s unlikely. Judging from the fact that she reeked of booze, there was probably another reason.’
‘Good grief. It’s only the first of December! Are they getting into the spirit of Christmas this soon?’
‘Some people only need the slightest excuse,’ she said grimly, and concentrated on her tea instead of thinking about Andrew and another frosty night nearly four years ago—
‘So, how was the weekend?’ she asked. ‘Lots of admissions?’
‘Wouldn’t you know? It’s been bedlam, apparently. We had six surgical emergencies and three RTAs last night alone. We haven’t got them all, but ICU is chocka and they’re stacked up in Resus.’
Julia rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘Oh, yum. One of those days.’
‘Absolutely. And we’ve got the new boy starting shortly, lord help us all—if he ever gets here. He said he’d be here by seven, and he’s late, too. Maybe he came the same way.’
‘Well, if he did he’ll be stuck in the queue, because the roundabout’s blocked solid. I’m only here because I know the back way.’
‘Great. We’ve had a call from A and E to stand by for an RTA victim with a deep incision in the neck—could that be yours? If it is, I hope this Armstrong guy gets here soon, because Nick Sarazin’s just phoned in with flu and Armstrong’s next in line, so he’d better be up to speed, because she’s punctured her carotid, apparently, and they’ve just tacked her together in A and E pending a proper job.’
Just then there was a knock on the door, and she looked up straight into a pair of familiar rainwashed eyes. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and he smiled in recognition and came into the room. He’d shed his coat and changed his shirt, but his temple still carried a little streak of blood beneath the floppy dark hair.
Her eyes scanned him in the second it took him to cross the room towards her, absorbing the fact that he looked less chunky without the padded jacket. He was still broad, but with a lithe muscularity that spoke of great strength. His broad, capable hand was extended in greeting, and his voice sent shivers down her spine.
‘Hi, there. We meet again. David Armstrong.’
Their new consultant, a man she’d work with on a daily basis. Her heart gave a little jiggle of delight, but she ignored it, struggling for a measured response.
‘Julia Revell. I’m the ward sister. Welcome aboard.’
She took his hand, the fingers cool and hard, the palm warm and dry and firm. A confident hand, strong and yet gentle. She felt a strange kind of helplessness creep over her, an urge to crawl into his arms and let him take away all her problems.
Not that she had many problems. Not if you didn’t count the bills that were waiting to be paid, and the fact that Katie wasn’t feeling too well and really, really hadn’t wanted to go to the childminder or school this morning, and the car was overdue for servicing and her wardrobe was looking distinctly ragged.
Still, there was always the lottery.
She realised she was still holding his hand, the handshake now extended beyond mere convention, and with a tiny shake she pulled herself together and released him, stepping back. ‘This is Angie Featherstone, our night sister. Angie, Mr Armstrong’s the doctor I was telling you about at the RTA—last seen holding a pressure pad to a young woman’s neck.’
He gave a wry grimace, his eyes crinkling with humour. ‘Yes—in at the deep end. She’s coming up to Theatre and guess who’s on take all of a sudden? So it looks as if I get to do the follow-through on my good Samaritan act. Can we squeeze her in or shall I tell her it’s not convenient?’
Julia laughed and looked at Angie for confirmation. ‘Can we?’
‘There’s always the corridor,’ she said drily. ‘Anyway, I’m out of here in a minute. I’ll leave you to sort it out. I would suggest some rapid shuffling and a little emergency discharge. Talk to Nick Sarazin’s registrar—one or two of his are looking pretty bright.’
‘Good,’ Julia said with feeling. ‘We could use freeing up. OK, we’ll stand by to take her shortly.’
He grinned. ‘Right. I’d better go and get scrubbed up. I’ll see you again later.’
He went out and closed the door, and Angie looked at Julia and sighed theatrically. ‘Oh, what a luscious man. What did we do to get so lucky? Did you see those eyes?’
Oh, yes—and the strong, safe, capable hands, Julia thought, but it was only a thought, and that was all it could ever be. Never again, she’d vowed all those years ago, and it would take more than eyes the colour of an April storm and a touch that made her long for more to undermine that resolve. She straightened her shoulders and arched a brow at her colleague.
‘I thought you were married?’ she said drily, but Angie just laughed.
‘I am—but you’d have to be dead to fail to notice a man like that—and don’t tell me you didn’t notice him, because I’ll know you’re lying.’
Julia shrugged, suppressing her interest. ‘So he’s good-looking,’ she said dismissively. ‘Lots of men are. I don’t mix business and pleasure.’
Angie shot her a curious look. ‘Did I suggest you should?’
She felt colour brush her cheeks, and sighed inwardly. ‘Just setting the record straight. Let’s get this report out of the way and I can start shuffling patients,’ she said, clutching at normality. Anyway, she thought, her mind still running on the same track, he was bound to be married. All the decent men were, and most of the indecent ones, too. Not that she was interested, even if he was available.
Busy, that was what she needed to be—too busy to think straight, so there wasn’t time to worry about David Armstrong and his broad shoulders and powerful hands and gorgeous eyes…
There was an old saying—be careful what you wish for, you might get it.
By the time she clocked off at three, Julia was deeply regretting her wish to be busy. They’d been rushed off their feet all day, and it was only at three thirty, when she’d done the handover and was in her car on the way to pick Katie up from school, that she realised just how tired she was.
Not just from today, but from every day, from the relentless passage of the days, one after the other, each with their own special problems.
If only she could stop worrying about the money, but there never seemed to be enough, not with Andrew’s debts still to clear. Still, another three months and the credit-card bill would be paid, and maybe then things would be easier.
She pulled up outside the school and went in to retrieve Katie from the homework class she joined for the few minutes she had to wait each day. Sometimes it was more than a few minutes, but Julia was very wary about leaving her too long and shaking her confidence.
It had taken enough of a battering when Andrew had died.
‘Mummy! Mummy, look what I did!’
‘Hello, darling—oh, gorgeous! We’ll stick it up on the fridge when it’s dry.’
She fielded the wet painting, threw a distracted smile of thanks at the teacher supervising the little group and headed for the cloakroom with Katie to find her coat. It was wet and muddy—she’d been pushed over at lunchtime and had sat in a puddle, but she seemed quite unmoved by it.
‘Why didn’t you tell the dinner ladies?’ Julia asked, wondering about the incident. ‘They would have dried it for you.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Katie said airily. ‘Can we go? I want a drink.’
Was she being evasive? No. Julia told herself not to go into overdrive about bullying. It was probably just a casual bump, more than likely an accident.
‘It’ll be dry by tomorrow. Here, borrow my jumper so you don’t get cold and then you won’t have to wear your coat while it’s still wet. Are you feeling better now?’
Katie nodded. ‘School was fun today. We did singing.’
‘That was nice.’ She bundled her daughter up in her sweater, put her coat back on and headed for the car, damp coat and damper painting in hand. The sleeves of the jumper were trailing almost to the ground, and Katie skipped along, swinging them and laughing and looking quite unconcerned.
Not bullied, thank God.
Julia sighed with relief. It was sometimes so hard being a single parent and keeping things in perspective. She drove them home, made a simple meal of pasta and vegetables baked in the oven with grated cheese on top, and they sat together and watched children’s TV while it browned, and then read Katie’s book for a while after supper.
By seven thirty, when the little girl was tucked up in bed and the house was tidied, Julia was wiped out. She poured herself a small glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge, sat down in front of the television for a little relaxation and promptly fell asleep, waking much later with a wet lap and a crick in her neck.
She looked at her watch in disbelief. It was nearly ten, and she’d slept through the only programme she liked. Typical. With a wry grimace she put the now empty wineglass down, turned off the television, had a quick bath and went to bed, expecting to fall into a sound sleep instantly.
Oh, no. Her mind, slightly refreshed by the doze on the sofa, had no intention of letting her escape that easily. Instead it spooled endlessly through the events of the day, starting with the accident in the morning, then her next meeting with David Armstrong on the ward, then his visits later to check on his post-ops.
Every time he’d seen her he’d smiled that eye-crinkling smile, and she’d turned to putty. His shoulders had brushed against hers at someone’s bedside and her heart had nearly stopped. He’s just a man, she’d told herself, and now, lying in bed, she reminded herself of this again.
He’s just a man.
And that, of course, was the root of the problem, because a man was what she wanted, what she needed in her life. Just a man, an ordinary, everyday decent human being to share life’s ups and downs.
Or cause them. Every down that had happened to her in the past six years had been caused by Andrew.
No, she didn’t want a man. Well, she did, but she didn’t need a man. What she needed was sleep, so she could get up in the morning and do her job properly and not get the sack!
But her restless mind wouldn’t let go, and when it did, it was only so that it could torture her with dreams…
‘Hi, there.’
Julia looked up from her computer terminal at the work station, a smile of welcome already on her lips. Oh, heavens, she thought dizzily, the dreams didn’t do his eyes justice.
She pulled herself together and tried to look professional instead of like a mesmerised rabbit. ‘Morning. You’re in bright and early.’
‘I wanted to check my post-ops before my clinic at nine, and I need time to read through the notes before then, and I need to meet my secretary and have more than a five-second conversation with her at some time before the clinic, so—’
‘You got up at five to make an early start.’
David laughed. ‘Something like that. I don’t suppose there’s a kettle anywhere on the ward, is there? I’d like to chat about a couple of the patients with you. Besides, I only had time for a quick slug of tea before I left home, and I’m parched.’
‘Have you had breakfast?’ she asked, wondering what his wife thought about him leaving home so early and telling herself it was none of her business.
‘You sound just like my mother,’ he said with a slow smile that messed up her heart rhythm again, ‘and, no, I didn’t have time for breakfast either.’
‘Better have some toast, then, to go with your tea—or was it coffee?’
‘Tea sounds good.’
He followed her into the little kitchen, his broad shoulders and deep chest somehow filling the space and crowding her, but not unpleasantly. She felt…odd, as if his aura was brushing up against hers, chafing softly against it and sending little shivers up and down her spine.
She filled the kettle and switched it on, then turned and bumped into him, and he smiled and moved back a little. ‘Sorry,’ she said a touch breathlessly. ‘It’s rather cramped in here.’
‘It’s a nice cosy little retreat,’ he corrected, the smile playing around his mouth and drawing an answering smile to her lips.
‘It can be, but not for long. We’re too busy usually to take advantage, but yesterday’s bedlam seems to have retreated a bit.’
‘Just as well, isn’t it? You were running at full stretch, I would have thought.’
‘We were a bit overcrowded. Still, with Nick off with flu we should be able to catch up a little. Two slices, or more?’
‘Two to start with,’ he said, and propped his hips against the units, his hands resting on the worktop each side so that his suit jacket gaped open and displayed his broad chest and lean hips to unfair advantage. She dragged her eyes away from him and put an extra couple of slices of bread in the toaster for herself.
‘So, our young lady from the RTA yesterday—I gather she’s had a good night and is looking better,’ he said, watching her work.
‘Yes—apparently. She’s finished her transfusions and she’s on saline now, and she seems comfortable.’
‘She was lucky, you know. She had a stupid, gimmicky necklace on made of old beer cans cut up into triangles and bent onto a leather thong, and one of the triangles had sliced the edge of her carotid artery. If she hadn’t had medical attention when she did, she would have bled to death within minutes, certainly before the paramedics got there.’
Julia threw tea bags into two mugs and poured boiling water over them. ‘She was over the limit, you know. The police were in last night to talk to her. Her passenger’s got spinal injuries, but nothing drastic. His kneecaps have both got starburst fractures, and his head’s sore, but he was very lucky she wasn’t going faster. Here, your tea. Help yourself to sugar.’
‘I don’t, thanks. He should have had his seat belt on, of course, then he probably wouldn’t have been injured.’
‘Whereas ironically her injury was probably caused by the seat belt cutting into her necklace,’ Julia pointed out.
‘No, it was caused by the stupid, dangerous necklace,’ he corrected, plucking the toast from the toaster and dropping it onto the proffered plate. ‘Looks good.’
‘Butter, or marg?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’
She shook her head and slid the butter towards him along the worktop, together with a knife, and then spent the next few minutes trying not to stare at him as his even white teeth tore into the toast and the muscles in his jaw worked to chew it.
She scraped margarine on her toast and ate it fast, one eye on the time, and she was just swallowing the last bite when the door opened and Sally Kennedy put her head round.
‘Ah, Julia, you’re hiding in here. New admission—could you come? It’s one for Owen Douglas.’
‘Sure.’
She drained her tea and threw David a distracted smile. ‘Sorry, I’m going to have to cut and run. Take your time—make more, if you want.’
‘I’m fine. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.’
That smile again.
Blast.
She found herself spending the day wishing one of his patients would have a problem so she could call him back to the ward, but as luck would have it they were all fine.
Julia left the hospital on time, more or less, chastising herself for dawdling in the corridor just in case David was on his way to the ward, and then just to punish her God decided that her car was going to choose that afternoon to fail to start.
‘Great,’ she said, slamming her hands down on the steering-wheel and glaring at the bonnet. ‘Marvellous.’
With no very real idea of what she might be looking for, she pulled the bonnet catch and spent several fruitless moments trying to get the safety catch off so she could raise it.
‘Here,’ a passing stranger said, and slid his hand under the edge, tweaked something and the bonnet came up into his hand. How intensely irritating!
‘Thanks,’ she said grudgingly, put the stay up to hold it and stuck her head into the engine bay. Not that she had any idea what she was looking at. She knew just enough to know that the engine hadn’t been stolen, but beyond that she was stuffed.
A shadow fell over her line of sight, and she glanced up and straightened, bumping her head on the bonnet catch.
She yelped and clutched her head, and David tutted softly.
‘You all right?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ she muttered ungraciously. ‘My car won’t start, goodness knows why, so I’m going to be late to fetch my daughter from school, and now just to improve things I’ve got a hole in my head.’
‘That would be a no, then,’ he said softly, and she laughed in spite of herself.
‘In short.’
‘Hmm.’ He stood beside her and stared down at the engine, and hope dawned.
‘I don’t suppose you know anything about engines?’ she asked him optimistically.
He chuckled. ‘Not enough to fix them. I suppose you’ve got petrol?’
Julia nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve got petrol, I filled it up at the weekend.’
‘In which case,’ he said, dropping the bonnet with a solid clunk, ‘I suggest you get a taxi to your daughter’s school and get a garage to come and look at it later. Do you belong to a motoring organisation?’
She shook her head. ‘No—and there’s no way I can afford a taxi.’ Or a garage.
‘In which case, can you drive an automatic?’
She stared at him blankly. ‘An automatic? Yes, my father’s got one, I’ve driven it a few times. Why?’
‘Because you could take my car, get your daughter and go home, and I’ll get my rescue service to come out and fix yours and then I’ll drive it home for you and pick mine up.’
‘But it’s not your car! They won’t do that.’
‘It doesn’t need to be mine. I just need to be driving it.’
He dangled his keys in front of her temptingly, and she hesitated.
‘Don’t you need it? Why aren’t you working? And won’t your wife or whatever mind if you’re late home?’
‘I’ve got the afternoon off. I was doing paperwork. I saw you from my window—and I don’t have a wife, or a whatever, so she won’t mind in the slightest. Come on, you can’t be late for your daughter—unless your husband can pick her up?’
She shook her head. ‘No—he’s dead,’ she said bluntly, not bothering to be subtle. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. It’s just over there—the silver BMW.’
‘I’ll crash it,’ she muttered under her breath, and he winced and laughed.
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ he said mildly, propelling her gently in its direction. ‘I’ve only had it a short while—not that it’s new, but it still cost me enough, and I’m quite fond of it already.’
‘What about insurance?’
‘You’re covered. Any driver over twenty five.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks.’
He paused, his hands on the top of the door, just as she was about to drive it away. ‘Your address would be useful.’
Julia felt a little rush of colour flood her cheeks. ‘How silly. Sorry. Twenty-five Victoria Road. It’s near the park.’
‘I know it. I’ll see you there.’
He shut the door firmly, and she eased out of the parking place and headed for the road, too absorbed in trying to avoid scraping his car against the barriers to worry about the fact that she’d just given him her address. It was only when she pulled up outside her house and took Katie in that she realised she’d broken one of her cardinal rules…
David watched her go, his face thoughtful.
So Julia was a widow with a daughter. That was tough. She couldn’t be more than about twenty-seven or -eight, thirty at the outside. He wondered when her husband had died, and if she was over him or if she still cried for him in the small hours of the night.
He didn’t know, but suddenly he wanted to find out. He’d spent the last few years moving around from one Special Registrar’s post to another, completing his training, and now that he could finally settle down in one place, he was hoping in time to find a woman he could spend his life with.
And maybe, just maybe, that woman might be Julia Revell.
A slow smile nudged the corner of his mouth. He even had her address, thanks to the car. All he needed now was for the recovery people to come up trumps and fix it, and he’d be round there…
