not going to be an instant fix,’ Bridgette said, but she didn’t go on. She could see how tired her parents looked, not from recent days but from recent years. ‘We can get through this, Mum,’ Bridgette said, ‘if we all help each other.’
‘What about you, though?’ It was the first time her father had really spoken since they’d arrived. ‘What about that young man of yours, the one in Sydney?’
‘Let’s not talk about that, Dad.’ It hurt too much to explore at the moment. It was something she wanted to examine and think about in private—when she had calmed down fully, when she was safely alone, then she would deal with all she had lost for her sister, again. But her father was finally stepping up, as she had asked him to, and not burying his head in the sand as he usually did—which was a good thing, though perhaps not right now.
‘We need to discuss it, Bridgette.’ He sat down and looked her square in the eye. ‘We didn’t know you were serious about someone.’
‘It never really got a chance to be serious,’ Bridgette said.
‘We should have had Harry more.’
Yes, you bloody should have, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t fair on them, because really it wasn’t so much Harry who had got in the way; it had been her too—she hadn’t wanted a relationship, hadn’t wanted to let another close. ‘Things will be different now,’ Bridgette said instead.
‘You could go away for the odd weekend now and then…’ her dad said. And teeny little wisps of hope seemed to rise in her stomach, but she doused them—it was simply too late.
After her parents had gone, Bridgette made Harry some lunch and then cuddled him on the sofa. She did exactly what she’d tried not to—she let herself love him. Of course she always had, but now she didn’t hold back. She kissed his lovely curls and then smiled into his sleepy eyes and told him that everything was going to be okay, that Mum was getting well, that she would always be here for him.
And she would be.
It was a relief to acknowledge it, to step back from the conflict and ignore the push and pull as to who was wrong and who was right—she wasn’t young, free and single, she had a very young heart to take care of.
‘You wait there,’ she said to Harry as the doorbell rang. They were curled up, watching a DVD. Harry was nearly ready to be put down for his afternoon nap and Bridgette was rather thinking that she might just have one too.
‘Dominic!’ He was the last person she was expecting to see, though maybe not. She knew that he did care about her, knew he would want to know how she was.
He wasn’t a bastard unfortunately. It would be so much easier to paint him as one—they just had different lives, that was all.
‘I thought you had a gangster party to be at!’
‘I’ve got a couple of hours till the plane.’ He was dressed in a black suit. ‘I’ve just got to put on a tie and glasses—Mum’s sent me a fake gun, though I’d better not risk it on the plane.’ His smile faded a touch. ‘I wanted to see how the meeting had gone…’
‘Didn’t you hear?’ Bridgette said, quite sure the whole hospital must have heard by now. ‘Or you could have read the notes.’ He saw her tight smile, knew that Bridgette, more than anyone, would have hated things being played out on such a public stage—it was her workplace, after all. She opened the door. ‘Come in.’
He was surprised to see how well she looked, or perhaps surprised wasn’t the right word—he was in awe. Her hair swished behind her as she walked, all glossy and shiny as it had been that first night, and he could smell her perfume. She looked bright and breezy and not what he had expected.
Back perhaps to the woman he had met.
‘I didn’t want to read the notes,’ Dominic said, walking through to the lounge. ‘Though I heard that Harry had come home with you…’ His voice trailed off as he saw Harry lying on the lounge, staring warily at him. ‘Hi, there, Harry.’
Harry just stared.
‘What happened to the nice smile that you used to give me when I came on the ward?’ Dominic asked, but Harry did not react.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Bridgette offered, though perhaps it was more for herself. She wanted a moment or two in the kitchen alone, just to gather her thoughts before they had to do what she had been dreading since the night they had first met—officially say goodbye. ‘Or some lunch perhaps?’ She looked at the clock. ‘A late lunch.’
‘I won’t have anything,’ Dominic said. ‘I’ll have something on the plane and there will be loads to eat tonight. A coffee would be great, though.’ It had already been a very long day. ‘You’ve changed the living room.’
‘I’ve given Harry his own bedroom,’ Bridgette said, ‘and I quite like the idea of having a desk in here.’ And she could breathe as his eyes scanned the room, because, yes, she’d changed the screensaver again. Now it was a photo of Harry and his mum, a nice photo, so that Harry could see Courtney often.
‘It looks nice,’ he said as Bridgette headed out to the kitchen and Dominic stood, more than a little awkward, nervous by what he had to say. He wasn’t used to nerves in the least—he always had a level head. He said what was needed and rarely any more. He took off his jacket and looked for somewhere to hang it, settling on the back of Bridgette’s study chair. Turning around he saw Harry smile, half-asleep, lying on the sofa. He gave Dominic the biggest grin and then closed his eyes.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Bridgette asked Dominic as she walked back in the room carrying two mugs and saw him standing there grinning.
‘Harry,’ Dominic answered, still smiling. ‘That nephew of yours really does love routine.’ He saw a little flutter of panic dart across her eyes, realised that she thought perhaps he was there to tell her something. He understood she had an overactive imagination where Harry was concerned. ‘He smiles when I take my jacket off. I’ve just realised that now. Whenever I came onto the ward at night he watched me and frowned and then suddenly he gave me a smile. I could never work out why.’
‘It’s what you do.’ Bridgette grinned, because she’d noticed it too. ‘Before you wash your hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you examine a patient with your jacket on. Funny that Harry noticed,’ she mused. ‘I guess when your world’s chaotic you look for routine in any place you can find it.’
‘Well, it doesn’t look very chaotic to me. You’ve done great,’ Dominic said. He waited while she put Harry down for his very first nap in his big-boy bed—Bridgette surprised that he didn’t protest, just curled up and went straight to sleep. She gently closed the door. ‘So,’ he asked when she came back in, ‘how did the meeting go?’
‘You really didn’t read the notes?’ She was a little bit embarrassed and awkward that he might be here to question her plans to follow him to Sydney, because even though she hadn’t given his name, if Dominic had read the notes, the indication would be clear. ‘Because I was just bluffing…’
‘Bluffing?’ Dominic frowned. ‘About what?’
‘Getting a life.’ Bridgette gave a wry smile. ‘Moving to Sydney.’
‘You said
