Saving Christmas for the ER Doc
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Kate Hardy
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CHAPTER ONE
NEW JOB, NEW HOSPITAL, and Rachel Halliday was really looking forward to her new start. She’d switched back to her maiden name, and nobody in her new department needed to know how miserable the last couple of years had been. They’d just see Rachel for herself: a good doctor, a supportive colleague, and hopefully a new friend.
Rachel’s best friend, Jenny, was a cardiac surgeon at Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital’s sister hospital; she’d seen the job on the trust’s bulletin board and urged Rachel to apply for it. Rachel had refused; her eldest daughter Meg was in her Finals year at university in Manchester and Saskia, her youngest, was just starting university in Sheffield, so how could she add yet more disruption to the girls’ lives? Even though the job was a sideways move and would fit perfectly—a consultant in the Emergency Department, with some responsibility for teaching—she’d resigned herself to sticking it out at Hampstead for another year. By then, she hoped that the pity among her colleagues would surely have died down and something else would’ve taken her place as the topic to be gossiped about. And if it hadn’t—well, then she’d go for the new start.
But Jenny had enlisted Meg and Saskia’s support, and Rachel’s daughters had set up a family video call to nag her into applying for the job.
‘Mum, you’ve had a horrible two years, with Gran having dementia and you supporting her before she died, and Dad doing what he did, and then the divorce. It’s time you did something for you,’ Saskia said.
‘And I’ve checked out the commute. It’s half an hour on the Tube and then a walk through the park, so you don’t even have to move house—though, if you decide that’s what you want to do, we’ll back you,’ Meg added. ‘We’ll even come home and scrub grouting and tidy everything out of sight, ready for the estate agency to take photos.’
‘Thank you, both of you, but I’m not planning to move house right now,’ Rachel said. Moving house was meant to be one of the three most stressful life events, along with bereavement and divorce; after going through two of them in the last year, she needed a break before she could even consider the third.
‘But you can still apply for the job,’ Saskia encouraged her.
‘They’ll be lucky to have you, Mum,’ Meg agreed. ‘I know it’s a sideways move, but it’ll be a fresh start—and a new place means new opportunities. Go for it.’
So Rachel had given in to her daughters’ urging and applied. She’d been invited for an interview; a few days later, to her delight, she’d been offered the job. And now today, on a foggy and freezing morning in mid-October, she was walking through the park from the Tube station to the hospital, enjoying the way the trees loomed like shadowy blobs and became more like intricate sculptures as she drew closer to them. She loved this time of year, even though today the ground was slippery underfoot and no doubt the waiting room this morning would be full of patients with Colles’ fractures who’d put their arms out to stop themselves hitting the ground face-first and broken their wrists. She’d nearly fallen over, herself, just outside the Tube station.
Today was her induction day, but hopefully they could rattle through all the admin stuff fairly quickly and she could get straight into doing what she loved most: treating patients and teaching her juniors. She was looking forward to getting to know her new colleagues. She’d liked what she’d seen of Tim Hughes, the head of the department, at her interview; he’d seemed both friendly and super-calm—just what was needed in the rush of the Emergency Department.
But the second she went to the reception desk to introduce herself and explain that she was due to start in the department today but hadn’t been given her key card yet, the receptionist put a hand on her arm and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Halliday. Mr Hughes sends his apologies, but your induction’s going to have to be moved. He’s asked if I can direct you straight to Resus, instead. There’s been a bit of a bad pile-up on the M1 and they’re expecting several patients.’
Given the weather conditions, Rachel wasn’t surprised to hear there had been at least one car accident. With a busy motorway and several vehicles involved, it sounded as if the department was going to be stretched. ‘Not a problem. Can you tell me where to go, please?’
‘I’ve got the key to your locker.’ The receptionist handed over a key with the locker number on the fob. ‘The changing room’s first on the left through the corridor—there are scrubs on the shelf—and the staff room’s next door. Resus is at the end of the corridor, and one of the team there will tell you which room they need you in. It’ll be on the whiteboard, too.’
‘Great. Thank you very much.’
It didn’t take Rachel long to change into green scrubs and her work shoes and dump everything else in her locker, and then she hurried down the corridor to Resus, where she recognised the man standing in front of the whiteboard—Tim Hughes, the head of the department, who’d interviewed her for the job. He was tall, with short dark hair greying at the temples, and the most amazing cornflower-blue eyes that had made her pulse leap inappropriately at the interview.
And now was an even more inappropriate time to remember that flare of attraction. The department was about to become super-busy and there was no room for daydreaming.
‘Hi, I’m Rachel Halliday. I believe you’re expecting me?’ she asked.
Tim nodded. ‘Yes—welcome to the team. Sorry your induction day’s been hijacked.’
‘It’s fine, Mr Hughes.’
‘Tim,’ he corrected. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here.’
‘Rachel,’ she said. ‘Reception told me there’s been a situation on the M1.’
‘Yes. We think one of the drivers had a heart attack, veered across the road and hit the central reservation. The car behind him braked to try and avoid him, but several other cars didn’t manage to stop in time.’
Hence the pile-up, Rachel thought. ‘What do we know about our patients?’
‘There’s the one with a suspected heart attack; Sam Price, one of the other consultants, is treating him. I’m dealing with the critical patient with head injuries; there are a few with suspected fractures, and others with soft tissue injuries and shock. We’re expecting the ambulances in any minute now, and I’m putting you in Resus Three with Ediye Mosaku to treat a driver who hit the steering wheel. The ambulance crew think he might have a flail chest,’ Tim said, gesturing to the whiteboard on the wall. ‘The other patients will be triaged as they get here.’
‘Got it,’ she said.
‘This is Ediye,’ he said as a young doctor in scrubs walked into the corridor. ‘Ediye, this is Rachel.’
‘Our new consultant. Lovely to meet you,’ Ediye said with a broad smile.
‘Perhaps we can catch up later today, Rachel, when things have quietened down,’ Tim said.
‘Sure,’ she said cheerfully. Though, in her experience, things never really quietened down in the Emergency Department.
He smiled back. ‘Good. The coffees will be on me.’ There was a yell of, ‘Tim!’ from Resus One. ‘Sounds as if my patient’s arrived. See you later.’
Funny how that smile made her heart feel as if it had done a backflip.
Rachel made herself damp down the renewed flare of attraction. She needed to get a grip. Tim Hughes looked as if he was only a couple of years older than she was, and the odds were that he was already in a long-established relationship. If he was single, then he’d probably have as much emotional baggage as she had. Besides, even if he was single and the attraction turned out to be mutual, she wasn’t looking for a relationship—not after the events of the past year. Right at the moment, Rachel’s focus was on finding out who she was, now she was fifty-two and divorced, and working out what she wanted from life. Starting all over again, trying to find a new partner, just felt like a step too far. She wasn’t ready to trust her heart to anyone.
Hoping none of that had shown on her face—she’d be mortified if her new colleagues had spotted that little leap of attraction, or the way she’d talked herself out of it—she turned to Ediye. ‘Because it’s my first day, obviously I don’t know who everyone is yet or what their roles are. But I don’t want to patronise anyone by behaving as if they don’t know a thing when they’re really experienced or push them too far out of their comfort zone by expecting them to know more than they actually do.’ She smiled. ‘So can I start with you, please?’
Ediye laughed. ‘Sure. I’ve just finished my F2 year, and I’m in my first year of the Acute Care Common Stem training programme. Emergency was my favourite rotation, so I jumped at the chance to join the team. Tim’s a really good head of department—he drills it into everyone that you ask if you’re not sure about something, and he tries to give the junior doctors as much experience as possible.’
‘Brilliant,’ Rachel said. It was the impression she’d had at her interview, too, and the way she liked working. ‘Have you dealt with a flail chest before?’
‘I’ve seen a couple, and I know the theory,’ Ediye said.
‘In that case, I’m happy to let you lead, and I’ll only step in if I think you need a hand. Ask me whatever you need to know as we’re treating our patient; if you need me to take over, that’s absolutely fine, and then afterwards we’ll have a debrief so we can go over any decisions I made and I’ll explain why I chose that particular option.’ She smiled. ‘Or, rather, you can tell me why I made those decisions, and I’ll steer you in the right direction if I need to.’
‘That’d be really good,’ Ediye said.
A few seconds later, the first three batches of paramedics rushed in. Rachel and Ediye had the last patient, Ben Anstey; once the handover had been done, Rachel introduced them.
‘Hello, Ben—I’m Rachel and this is Ediye. We’re Emergency Department doctors in Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital, and we’ll be looking after you today. The paramedics tell us you hit the steering wheel, and we think you might have broken some ribs.’
‘I think so, too, because they hurt like hell,’ Ben said, his face pinched.
‘We’ll give you some pain relief, but first can you take a deep breath for me?’
He did so and winced.
Rachel nodded at Ediye, encouraging the younger doctor to take over.
‘It hurts when you take a deep breath?’ Ediye asked.
‘And when I move,’ Ben confirmed. ‘It’s hard to breathe.’ He coughed, and winced. ‘Ow. That hurts my shoulder as well.’
‘OK. I’m going to put you on an oxygen mask now,’ Ediye said. ‘That’ll help you breathe more easily. I want to examine you, take your temperature and listen to your chest, if that’s all right?’
‘Whatever you need to do to stop it hurting,’ Ben said.
Ediye put him on oxygen and gave him pain relief, then checked his stats and turned to Rachel. ‘His temperature’s up, his heart rate’s too high, his blood pressure’s falling and he’s got falling oxygen sats,’ she said a low voice. ‘I notice that part of his chest goes in when he breathes in and out when he breathes out, so I think the paramedics were right about it being flail chest.’ Flail chest was a condition where at least three ribs in a row had two or more breaks, so part of the chest wall separated from the rest and moved independently. ‘There are decreased breath sounds, so I want to send him for a CT scan to check out trauma to the lungs.’
‘Good call,’ Rachel said. ‘And a possible pneumothorax, because he’s got that dry cough and the pain when he breathes radiates to his shoulder.’ A pneumothorax was where air leaked into the space between the lung and the chest wall; the pressure of the trapped air then caused the lung to collapse.
Ediye explained to Ben what would happen next and checked if he wanted them to call anyone.
Once the results were back, Rachel reviewed them with the younger doctor. ‘Flail chest, a pneumothorax, and the beginnings of contusions to the lungs—all quite common in cases of blunt trauma where you’re slammed against the steering wheel,’ Rachel said. ‘What’s your treatment plan?’
‘We’ll call the thoracic SPR to review the scan and see if they want to take him to Theatre to stabilise his ribs,’ Ediye said. ‘Meanwhile we need to get the air out from the pleural space, so his lung can reinflate and to reduce his pain.’
‘Perfect; but, given that he has flail chest as well, I’d go straight to a chest drain in this case,’ Rachel said. ‘Have you done one before?’
‘I’ve seen a couple and done one,’ Ediye said.
It seemed that Tim Hughes definitely acted on what he’d said at the interview, Rachel thought, pleased. ‘Good. You can do this one and talk me through it as if you’re teaching me. We need to make sure Ben has enough pain relief so he can take deep breaths, cough and move around—that’ll help him to avoid a chest infection. I’ll call his wife while you call Thoracics.’
When Ben came back from his CT scan, Rachel said, ‘Your wife’s on her way in. Reception will send her straight in to us when she gets here.’
‘Thank you,’ Ben said.
Ediye explained the results of his scan and what they were going to do next. Once Ediye had done the chest drain under Rachel’s supervision, Rachel took Ben through some breathing exercises for him to do on the ward to help keep his chest clear.
Ben’s wife arrived; Ediye introduced them, explained what they’d done and what was happening next, and finished with, ‘If you’d like to sit with him, the thoracic specialist will be with you soon. If you’re worried about anything in the meantime, talk to one of the nurses and they can call us in if necessary.’
When they’d left Ben but before seeing their next patient, Rachel smiled at Ediye. ‘You did really well with that drain.’
Ediye looked pleased. ‘Thanks. Telling you what I was going to do really helped me focus.’
‘Good. Let’s go and find our next patient.’
It was an incredibly busy morning; as well as the patients from the motorway crash, the waiting room was full of people who’d slipped on the ice and sprained an ankle or fractured a wrist or hurt a knee. Monday morning was always the busiest time in the Emergency Department, and it was way past lunchtime before Rachel had the chance to make herself a coffee in the staff kitchen. She added some cold water so she could drink it down straight away.
‘You must be Rachel,’ one of the nurses said when she walked in. ‘I was just coming to find you. Tim’s in his office and asked if you’d come and see him when you’ve got a moment.’
So much for her break, Rachel thought, and drained her coffee. ‘OK. Can I ask where his office is?’
‘In the corridor opposite here, at the end on the right,’ the nurse said with a smile.
‘Thank you.’ Rachel washed up her mug and left it on the draining board, then headed for Tim’s office.
At the rap on his door, Tim called, ‘Come in!’
As he’d hoped, rather than it being one of the suits with yet more paperwork to dump on his desk, their new consultant walked in. ‘I believe you wanted to see me?’ Rachel asked.
‘Yes.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s been crazy this morning. Have you had a break, yet?’
‘I was planning to have one now. I just grabbed a coffee in the staff room,’ she said, ‘and I was about to get the emergency chocolate bar from my bag.’
It was par for the course when they were as busy as they’d been that morning, but Tim didn’t like the extra pressure on his staff. ‘We can do better than that,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to the canteen and buy you a sandwich.’ He could see the beginning of protest on her face and added, ‘No strings. It’s your first day and, with that crash, you were pretty much chucked in at the deep end. Plus, we can multi-task. Debrief and lunch at the same time.’
‘All right. Thank you. To be honest, I’m glad the induction’s been shoved out of the way,’ she admitted as she followed him out of his office, and they walked down the corridor together. ‘I’d rather be helping patients than spending hours going through admin stuff that I could sort out at home.’
A woman after his own heart. He liked that. ‘How’s your man with flail chest?’ he asked.
‘We’ve admitted him, and the thoracic team are going to let me know what they’re doing. Ediye did the chest drain for the pneumothorax. She said she’d done one, so I went by the “see one, do one, teach one” principle and got her to talk me through it as she did it. And she was great.’
Tim approved of Rachel’s no-nonsense attitude; he’d liked her at the interview and thought she’d fit in well to the team. It was good to know his instincts had been spot on. They’d never let him down in his job. It was a pity they’d let him down in his personal life. If he’d paid more attention at home, if he’d let someone else take over here and gone out to dinner that night with Mandy and their friends instead of working late because he’d wanted to make sure his patient made it, maybe she wouldn’t have—
He shoved the thought aside. Not now.
At the canteen, he bought them both coffee, sandwiches and cake.
‘How was your guy with the head injury?’ she asked.
‘We got him as far as Intensive Care,’ he said, ‘and now it’s a waiting game. The guy with the heart attack didn’t quite make it here, and Sam had been called to treat someone else, so I had to talk to the poor guy’s husband and tell him what had happened—which is why I’m eating my cake before my sandwich.’ He grimaced. ‘I hate breaking the news that makes someone’s world crumble.’ He’d been on the receiving end of news like that, two years ago, and it had taken him quite a while to get back to coping. His girls still called him every day to check on him; and every day he put his work face on and told them he was doing fine. Which he was—at work. It was home that was tough, especially walking in through the front door to be greeted with silence instead of hearing Mandy bustling about or humming along with the radio as she marked an essay. He didn’t even have a dog to welcome him home; much as he would’ve liked the company, it simply wouldn’t be fair on the poor animal, not with the hours he worked.
Maybe he needed a fish.
But a fish couldn’t cuddle into you...
Stop. Stop it now. Remember what the counsellor said: focus on the positives. Think of everything you have to be thankful about, everything from the big things to the little ones. The girls, your job, your grandchild-to-be. Your health. Good coffee and loud music.
‘Anyway, welcome to Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital.’ He lifted his forkful of cake in a toast.
‘Thank you.’ His eyes caught hers and he realised just how pretty Rachel Halliday was, with those huge grey eyes. Her salt-and-pepper brown hair was cut into a neat bob that framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, and her mouth was a perfect cupid’s bow.
Oh, for pity’s sake. He knew from her application form that his new consultant was a couple of years younger than he was, and he’d guess her life stage was very similar to his own; she probably had grown-up children who were finding their own way in the world, and maybe the first grandchild was about to make an appearance. Thinking about how pretty she was really wasn’t appropriate.
She’s here to talk about work, he reminded himself.
‘It’s not usually quite this mad here on a Monday morning.’
‘With all that ice, I was expecting a slew of Colles’ fractures,’ she said. ‘I nearly fell flat on my face when I came out of the Tube station.’ She smiled. ‘Just as well I managed to stay upright, because it would’ve been a bit embarrassing if I’d turned up in the waiting room on my first day, needing a back slab on my wrist instead of prescribing one for someone else.’
‘Just a tad,’ he said, smiling back. ‘I’m guessing you already know where the lockers and changing rooms are, and the staff kitchen.’
‘And now you’ve shown me where the café is, so I’m pretty much sorted. I just need my key card so I don’t have to keep asking Reception to let me in, and my login details so I can access patient records and my email—we did all the notes under Ediye’s log-in today.’ She looked hopeful. ‘Can we skip the rest of it?’
‘What, you mean the health and safety bits, the fire procedures, the online policy, the...’ He chuckled at the rising dismay in her expression. ‘I’ll have a word with HR and see if they can give us a workaround. Or maybe one of them will agree to do it as a one-to-one or something and cut it down to half an hour. I’m pretty sure there isn’t that much difference between how we do things here and how they did things at your last hospital.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind reading stuff or doing an online induction course in my own time, if that helps.’
‘Won’t your family mind?’ The question came out before he could stop it. ‘Sorry. Forget I asked that. It was intrusive.’
‘No, it’s fine. My daughters are both at uni, so they’re only home during the holidays.’
So his guess had been right. She was at a similar life stage to him, with grown-up children, though hers were clearly a few years younger than his. But he noticed that she hadn’t mentioned a husband or partner. Mandy had always been a bit fed up with how much time his job took up, and they’d argued about it a lot. Was it the same for other senior doctors? Did her partner get fed up with her always being late home?
Tim couldn’t help glancing at Rachel’s left hand and noticed that it was bare. There was a bare-below-the-elbow hygiene policy for clinical staff, but plain rings were allowed. Maybe her wedding ring wasn’t plain, then. Or maybe she and her partner hadn’t bothered getting married. Not that it was any of his business.
But then she said, ‘Actually, the girls pushed me into applying for the job here. I’m glad they did.’
‘Pushed you?’ He was surprised.
She nodded. ‘I was going to stick it out in Hampstead for another year, because it’s Meg’s final year at uni and Saskia’s first year, and I think they’ve had enough disruption over the last few months without me changing everything on top of that.’
Disruption? It sounded as if life had been tricky for her, and he needed to back off rather than risk making things awkward for her. ‘Kids are often more resilient than we give them credit for,’ he said. His girls had coped with losing their mother a lot better than he had. Possibly because they’d been able to cry, and he’d stuffed his feelings down. The only times he’d cried in public was when his daughters had been born, and he’d brushed away a tear at their weddings. At Mandy’s funeral he’d kept himself under rigid control, knowing that if he let himself crack he’d never piece himself back together.
And he knew, too, that he’d kept his girls at more of an emotional distance than he really wanted to, because he didn’t want to lean on them and be a burden. Sometimes he wondered if he’d taken it too far; was he disconnected from them instead of protecting them? And, if so, how was he going to reconnect with them? Mandy would’ve known how to handle things—but Mandy wasn’t here any more.
‘My eldest is going on maternity leave in about three weeks,’ he said.
‘Will it be your first grandchild?’ Rachel asked. At his nod, she said, ‘You and your partner must really be looking forward to it.’
‘Just me, actually,’ he said quietly. ‘My wife died two years ago.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Actually, you might as well hear it from me, because someone in the department’s bound to tell you, but the rule is no pity, OK?’
‘OK.’
Her grey eyes were sympathetic rather than pitying, and that gave him the courage to tell her. ‘Mandy had a severe sesame allergy,’ he said. ‘She was out having dinner with friends—I was supposed to be joining them, but I was held up here.’ Even though he knew that her death wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have saved her, that nothing would’ve changed even if he’d been there, he still felt guilty. If he’d been at dinner with her like he’d promised, at least he could’ve held her hand in the ambulance and told her he loved her.
But he hadn’t been there. He’d been at work.
‘Obviously they’d double-checked it with the staff, but there was a mix-up in the kitchen. Nobody realised at the time, but the food had been accidentally cooked in sesame oil. She collapsed, and then she hit her head in the wrong place.’ And then there was the bit that had hacked the bottom out of his world. ‘She died in the ambulance on the way to hospital.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s tough, losing your wife so young—and not getting the chance to say goodbye,’ Rachel said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand briefly.
He appreciated the small gesture of kindness. ‘Yeah. It’s the things you didn’t get time to share that you miss the most,’ he said. Their first grandchild, due in a few weeks. Their youngest daughter’s wedding, last year. Growing old together. All their plans. All the things they hadn’t shared because he’d been busy at work; and how ironic it was that now he worked even harder, to fill the gaps and make himself too tired to think when he got home.
‘It’s not quite the same thing,’ she said, ‘but I get where you’re coming from because I lost my mum earlier this year.’ She looked sad. ‘In a way, I lost her before she died, because she had dementia. I took a sabbatical to care for her as long as I could.’
‘Dementia’s a cruel disease,’ he said. ‘The way it takes someone bit by bit.’
She nodded. ‘It was hard on the girls. Towards the end, their gran kept mistaking them for me when I was their age. But Saskia would sit and read to Mum every evening before dinner, and when Meg was home from uni she’d play the guitar and get Mum to sing old Beatles songs with her.’ She smiled. ‘She used to do a video call from uni every Wednesday night and get her grandmother singing along with us all.’
‘Apparently, music’s one of the last memories to go,’ Tim said. ‘So your mum lived with you?’
‘For six months or so. She wasn’t safe to live on her own, even with carers popping in,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s why I took time off work and she moved in with us—until she got to the stage where she needed more care than I could give her on my own. Then, much as I hated the idea, I had to find a nursing home.’
He remembered now that the gap in Rachel’s CV had come up in her interview, and she’d quietly said she’d taken a break from work to help a family member. Now he understood.
‘But I’m glad I spent that time with her. And I guess it did me a favour because it gave my husband the final excuse to leave me for girlfriend number...’ She shrugged. ‘Well, whatever number she was.’
Her husband had dumped her during her mother’s final illness? He winced. ‘That’s tough.’ Not just the affair, but the timing. Even though Mandy’s mum was really difficult, Tim wouldn’t have complained if she’d had a terminal illness and Mandy had wanted to move her into their home to look after her in her final months. When you were partners, you took the rough with the smooth and you supported each other; you didn’t just go off and find someone else with fewer complications when things got difficult. Rachel’s ex clearly hadn’t shared Tim’s views.
‘It’s been a bit of a tricky couple of years,’ Rachel said.
And that was a huge understatement, Tim thought.
‘But the girls and I got through it.’ She smiled. ‘And now I get to do something for me: a new start in a new job. No pity or set-up dates required.’
‘Oh, the set-up dates.’ He groaned. ‘Tell me about it. I know people mean well. But when friends invite you to dinner, and you think you’re simply going to spend a nice evening with friends you’ve known and loved for years, eating and talking too much; and then you turn up and they introduce you to someone suitable, and there’s all the expectation...’ He shook his head. ‘Not my idea of fun.’
‘At our age, if that “someone suitable” has always been single, I’ve found they tend to be very set in their ways,’ she said. ‘And I’ve had enough of having to bend over backwards to please someone else.’
It sounded as if her ex had been a bit demanding, Tim thought. ‘Absolutely. And, if they’re divorced or widowed, there’s a broken heart to deal with on top of your own. Dating isn’t for me. I’m perfectly happy to be on my own.’ It wasn’t quite true—he was horribly lonely, and the house echoed—but at the same time he wasn’t quite ready to join the dating mill. Especially at this time of year. He was dreading the run-up to Christmas. All the songs of loneliness that seemed to be on every radio station, whatever one he flicked to; all the reminders of happy families, when his own was fractured.
‘I’m happy on my own, too,’ she said, raising her own coffee.
‘And that’s why I’ve learned to eat cake before sandwiches,’ he said. ‘Do the happy stuff first.’
‘That’s a great idea. Except,’ she said, gesturing to her own plate, ‘when the sandwich happens to be a hot brie and cranberry panini. Then I’m afraid there’s no contest. Cheese first, all the way.’
‘You’re a cheese fiend?’ he asked.
‘Totally,’ she admitted.
‘Then there’s a shop I need to introduce you to,’ he said. ‘Which I guarantee will make me your new best friend.’
She laughed. ‘I like the sound of that, though you’ll have to make do with being second-best friend, or else Jenny—my bestie—will scalp you. Let’s just say she’s a cardiac surgeon who does kickboxing in her spare time.’
‘Super-scary, so don’t mess with her. Got it. Second-best friend will do fine,’ he said, and lifted his mug. ‘Here’s to new friends.’
‘New friends,’ she echoed.
How weird that her smile made him feel more settled than he’d been in months. Not that he was going to examine that too closely. ‘Right. What else do you need to know about the department? We have team nights out, every so often—anything from cocktails to curry to clubbing.’ He smiled at her. ‘And other things that begin with a different letter of the alphabet.’
‘Pints, pizza and...let me see...paddle-boarding at Paddington Basin?’ she suggested.
He couldn’t help laughing. ‘Nice one.’ Instinctively, he liked this woman. Rachel was definitely on his wavelength and she seemed to share his sense of humour, too. ‘I admit, I tend to skip the clubbing nights. Not because I’m too old, but because the music’s not quite my scene.’ He grinned. ‘I still tease my girls, though. I threaten to take them clubbing, wear a really loud and embarrassing shirt, get the DJ to play something especially for me, and have a good old dad dance right in the middle of the dance floor—making sure everyone knows I’m with them.’
She looked sad for a moment. ‘Steve wouldn’t even consider saying that as a joke, let alone really go somewhere with them. He doesn’t bother doing anything with the girls.’ She shook herself. ‘Sorry. Ignore me. Not your problem.’
Or his business, he thought. ‘Would you go clubbing with your girls?’
‘Probably not—like you, the music isn’t my scene—but I still go to the odd gig with them. They love Bryan Adams as much as I do, so I take them with me to see him whenever he plays in London,’ she said. ‘There’s really nothing better than singing your head off to songs you love with thousands of other people.’
‘Loud enough so the band has to turn the sound up. I agree. That’s the best sort of stadium gig,’ he said. ‘Though I have to admit I love the tiny venues as well, when there’s maybe fifty of you and a seriously good guitarist.’
‘I’m hoping to find something they’ll both like when they’re home for the Christmas holidays.’ She smiled. ‘I love Christmas.’
Whereas Tim found it incredibly hard to bear, nowadays. But he was the head of the department, and his staff had to come before his feelings. ‘Now you’ve mentioned Christmas, make sure you catch up with Ediye before you go today. She’s in charge of organising the department Christmas meal and Secret Santa this year, so she’ll get your name on the list. It’s the last week of November.’
‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘And I’d better get back to work. We still have a waiting room full of patients.’
‘Not to mention the joys of paperwork. And I have a meeting with the suits this afternoon, so I need to play nice.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘Thank you for lunch,’ she said, ‘and for making me feel welcome.’
‘Pleasure.’
And how strange it was, Tim thought as they chatted on the way back to the department, that he felt lighter of heart than he had for a long, long time. Something about Rachel Halliday made him feel as if the world was in kilter again. Or maybe it was just the relief of knowing that they’d made the right choice in appointing her: a warm, lovely woman who would be great with the patients and staff alike. Of course it was that. Work. It had to be.
