towards him, his eyes glittering with determination.
‘Sally, I want to know. Why did you ring me—and why did you disappear?’
His voice was controlled, but he was angry, she could tell—angry and not about to be fobbed off again. She had to give him something, so she gave him a carefully doctored version of the truth.
‘I wanted to speak to you,’ she said evenly, avoiding those piercing blue eyes. ‘A member of my family was in hospital—I just needed to talk to you. I didn’t contact you again because it didn’t matter any more. It was no longer relevant.’
One of the nurses hailed them, and she turned away and pulled her arm back. ‘Come on, we’re needed,’ she told him, and headed through the doors.
‘What do you mean, no longer relevant?’ he asked, pulling her to a halt again.
Sally swallowed and forced herself to meet his eyes, praying that the emotion she was feeling didn’t show.
‘She died.’
He sighed and thrust a hand through his hair. ‘Oh, Sal, I’m sorry. Someone special?’
She rammed down the huge wave of pain that threatened to rise up and swamp her.
‘Yes. Very special,’ she said honestly, and turned away, blinded by sudden tears. ‘Very special,’ she repeated in a whisper, and all but ran away from him down the corridor to the stores.
There she dumped the bag, hung her coat up on the peg and headed back out to the work station. Angela, the senior sister, was there, filling out notes, and she looked up and smiled distractedly.
‘Good grief, Sally, isn’t it time you went home?’ she asked.
‘Do you need me?
The smile softened. ‘We always need you, but you look bushed.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘In fact, you look like hell. Go home. Have a nice strong whisky in the bath—it’ll do you good.’
‘I might do that,’ Sally said with a vain attempt at a smile. ‘How’s my pneumothorax?’
‘Doing fine. She’s gone up to the ward.’
‘Good. Right, I’ll go, then.’ She fumbled her things out of the locker in the staffroom and headed for the door, only to find Nick standing in her way.
‘Not now, please,’ she said wearily, right at the end of her tether.
‘When, then? Tomorrow? The next day? Or never?’
She closed her eyes, her control hanging by a thread. ‘Please, Nick,’ she begged, and she felt his hands close over her arms and support her.
‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’ he asked gruffly, and she felt the unwanted tears welling again.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, a little choked. ‘Just tired. Let me go, Nick.’
Slowly, reluctantly, he released her, and she all but ran to her car, driving away as quickly as the traffic would allow. She held on until she got home, until the door closed behind her, and then finally the dam burst.
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