stabilised and on her way to Theatre, and for what seemed like the first time that day the red phone was quiet. Time to grab a break.
He glanced up at the clock. Ten to four? No wonder he was feeling light-headed. And his phone was jiggling again in his pocket.
‘Right, this time I’m really going for lunch,’ he said drily. ‘Anything less than a MAJAX, you’re on your own.’
There was a ripple of laughter as he tore off the thin plastic apron, dropped it in the bin with his gloves and walked out of Resus, leaving the rest of the team to clear up the chaos and restock ready for the next emergency. One of the perks of being clinical lead, he thought wryly as the door dropped shut behind him. God knows there were few enough.
He took the shortcut to the coffee shop, bought a coffee and a soft wholegrain roll stuffed with ham and salad, added a chocolate bar to boost his blood sugar and headed outside, drawing the fresh summer air deep into his lungs.
One of the best things about Yoxburgh Park Hospital was its setting. Behind the elaborate facade of the old Victorian building a modern general hospital had been created, providing the community not only with much needed medical facilities, but also a beautiful recreational area. It was green and quiet and peaceful, and he took his breaks out here whenever he could.
Not nearly often enough.
He found an empty bench under the trees and settled down to eat his lunch, pulling his phone out simultaneously to check for messages. It had jiggled in his pocket more than once in the last hour, but there were no messages, just two missed calls.
From Connie?
He frowned slightly. He hadn’t heard from her in ages, and now two missed calls in the space of an hour? He felt his heart rate pick up and he called her back, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waited for the phone to connect.
She answered almost instantly, and to his relief she sounded fine.
‘James, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Are you at work?’
‘Yeah—doesn’t matter, I’m on a break now. How are you, Connie? You’ve been very quiet recently.’ Well, not even that recently. Apart from the odd email saying nothing significant and a couple of ridiculously brief phone calls, she hadn’t really contacted him since she’d got back from Afghanistan after Christmas. It wasn’t just her fault. He hadn’t contacted her, either, and now he felt a flicker of guilt.
She laughed, the soft musical sound making him ache a little inside. There’d been a time not so long ago when she’d never laughed …
‘What, you mean I’ve left you in peace, Slater?’
‘Something like that,’ he said mildly. ‘So, how are you?’
‘Fine. Good. Great, really. Ready to move on.’ The silence stretched out for a heartbeat, and then she said, ‘Actually, I need to talk to you about that.’
She sounded oddly hesitant, and his radar started beeping.
‘Fire away.’
That troubling silence again. ‘I don’t think it’s something we can do over the phone,’ she said eventually. ‘I’d thought you might be off today as it’s Sunday, and I thought maybe we could get together, it’s been a while, but obviously not if you’re working. Have you got any days off coming up?’
‘Tomorrow? I’m off then for a couple of days. I don’t get many weekends at the moment—crazy staffing issues—but I can always come over and see you tomorrow evening after you’ve finished work if it’s urgent.’
‘No, don’t do that, I’ll come to you. I’m not working at the moment so I’ve got plenty of time. And it isn’t really urgent, I just—I wanted to talk to you. Can I pop over in the morning?’
Pop? From a hundred and thirty odd miles away? And why wasn’t she working? ‘Sure. Why don’t you stay over till Tuesday, if you’re free? We can catch up.’ And I can find out what the hell’s going on that’s so ‘not urgent’ that you have to come tomorrow morning.
‘Are you sure? It would be lovely but I’ve got the dog, don’t forget. Can you cope with that? She’s very good now—housetrained and all that, but I can’t put her in kennels at such short notice.’
Had she mentioned a dog? Possibly, but it didn’t matter. He had a secure garden. She’d be fine. The dog was the least of his worries.
‘I’m sure we’ll cope,’ he said. ‘Come. It’ll be lovely to see you.’
‘Thanks. When do you want me?’
Always …
He crushed the inappropriate thought. ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ he said. ‘Give me a call when you’re an hour away, so I can be sure I’m at home. I’ll see you tomorrow some time.’
‘Great. Thanks, James.’
‘No worries. Drive carefully.’
Ending the call, he ate the soft, squishy roll, drank his coffee and tasted neither. All he could think about was Connie and her non-urgent topic of conversation. He ripped the wrapper off the chocolate bar and bit into it absently.
What the hell did she want to talk to him about? He had no idea, but he was beginning to regret his invitation. He must have been crazy. His place was a mess, he had a zillion and one things to do, and catching up with Connie just wasn’t on his agenda—especially not like this. The prospect of being alone with her for thirty-six hours was going to test him to the limit. Not that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her. Not at all.
Just—maybe a little too much …
Crushing the cup in his hand, he headed off back to the department, his thoughts and emotions tumbling.
Connie. His old friend, his ex-colleague, and his best friend’s wife.
No. His best friend’s widow. The woman he’d promised to take care of.
‘When it happens, James—’
‘If it happens—’
‘When it happens—promise me you’ll take care of her.’
‘Of course I will, you daft bastard. It won’t happen. It’s your last tour. You’ll be fine.’
Famous last words.
The ache of loss, still raw after two years, put everything back in perspective and gave him a timely reminder of his duties and responsibilities. It didn’t matter what else he’d had planned, whatever his personal feelings for her, his duty to Connie came first and right now she needed him.
But apparently not urgently. Tomorrow would do.
Sheesh.
Savagely tossing the crushed cup into a bin, he strode through the door and headed back to work.
‘Well. We’re going to see
