crossed. Loosely because, apart from ‘What’s his blood pressure doing?’ or ‘Can you get me his file?’ Harry had never so much as spoken directly to her when she had been there, though she had felt the ripple effect when he’d entered the ward or canteen and she had heard an awful lot about him!
As a junior doctor, his wild ways, combined with very good looks, had assured that Harry had never lacked female attention. The mere whisper that Harry would be at a party in the doctors’ mess would guarantee that the number of attendees swelled. Marnie had been head over heels with Craig, her first boyfriend, at the time. Living away from home, away from her strict parents and the responsibility of taking care of her younger brothers, Marnie had been too busy embracing her first taste of freedom to give Harry Worthington more than a moment’s thought. But, a fair bit older and a whole lot wiser, kneeling back on her heels, Marnie thought about him now.
She remembered that he was tall and very long-limbed. His hair was brown and had always been superbly cut because no matter what the hour, be it nine a.m. and just starting or eight p.m. and just heading for home, it had always fallen into perfect shape. He had surely invented designer stubble and there had often been sniggers in the staff canteen when a nurse had appeared with Harry rash! He had worked hard, partied harder and completely lived up to his decadent reputation—though everyone had loved Harry, from porter to consultant, domestic to senior nursing staff, patient to relative, he somehow had charmed them all!
Not her, though.
Now that she thought about it, now that she sat quietly, they’d had one brief conversation away from work.
‘Come on, Marnie, stop moping around…’ She could hear her flatmates urging her to go out and, even though she hadn’t felt like a party, to keep them from nagging, Marnie had agreed. She had stood there clutching lemonade and watching the good times unfolding as, unbeknown to her flatmates, Marnie’s world fell apart. In the end she had decided to just slip away.
‘Leaving so soon?’
Harry had caught her as she’d headed for the door and had offered to get her a drink. Marnie had looked into very green eyes and watched them blink as, completely impervious to his charm, without explanation, she’d simply walked off.
Marnie wondered how the charming Harry would be faring these days! He’d be in his late thirties by now—surely all those years of excess would have caught up with him. Marnie stood and turned on the shower, aiming the water on the walls and laughing to herself at the thought of a ruddy-faced Harry, who surely by now had a paunch.
Oh, and a single father to twins.
There’d been no chance then of him charming her and there’d be even less now—she could truly think of nothing worse than a single father.
Marnie was decidedly free and single and liked her men to be the same.
Selfish, some might think, not that Marnie cared a jot what others thought.
As evening descended, perhaps the light was just being kind but the place looked far nicer than it had when she had arrived. Though Marnie would never admit the same to Dave when she spoke to him about it on Monday, she actually liked the main bedroom—it had high ceilings and a huge bay window, as well as a fireplace, which would surely be gorgeous for snuggling up in bed with a good book or a man in winter.
Not that she would be here in winter, Marnie reminded herself. She would see this lease out, given she had been foolish enough to sign, but she would be finding herself a new home and Dave certainly wouldn’t be her agent of choice.
Marnie made her final trip to the car and pulled out her yoga mat, which would serve as her mattress tonight, a duvet and pillow, and a box of personal effects.
Marnie set out her toiletries in the now sparkling bathroom and had a shower Then headed to the main bedroom. There she put out her clothes for the morning and set up her bed for the night. Then she put her photos up on the mantelpiece.
First she put up the family favourite—Marnie and her parents with her five younger brothers, all together on the day Ronan had graduated.
Ronan, her youngest brother, was unashamedly Marnie’s favourite. She had been nearly eleven when he was born and Marnie had had a lot to do with raising him—changing his nappies, getting up to him at night, feeding him before she went to school. It was funny to think of Ronan now at twenty-one—he was a gorgeous geek who loved computers and playing the piano, though not necessarily in that order.
Marnie placed the photo above the fire and took out another. There she was, a fourteen-year-old Marnie with her best friend Siobhan on the day the Johnsons had left Ireland to emigrate to Perth, Australia, and start a new life. Though the two young girls were smiling in the photo, Marnie could see the tears in both their eyes—for Marnie and Siobhan it had been a terribly difficult time. Marnie hadn’t wanted to leave her home, her school, her dancing and her friends, especially Siobhan. Still, she had made the best of it and had started to make friends—only then her father’s work had dictated that the family again up sticks and move from Perth to Melbourne.
‘You’ll soon make new friends,’ her mother had again insisted.
Yes, Marnie had made new friends but none had come close to Siobhan.
Marnie chose wisely and so when she gave her heart it was for ever and she and Siobhan were still best friends nearly twenty years later. They shared daily emails and video-called often, as well as catching up every couple of years face to face. Marnie smiled as she put out the photo and was still smiling when she pulled out the last one—but maybe it had been a long day, because She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Marnie cried rarely and she hadn’t expected to feel that way today. She was tired, she reasoned, as she gazed on the familiar and much-loved photograph of an eighteen-year-old Marnie holding Declan.
Finally holding Declan.
It was such a bitter-sweet time because until he had been two weeks old Marnie had never got to hold him, though her body had ached to, her breasts leaking as much as her eyes as she’d peered into the incubator and craved the feeling of holding her son in her arms. Until the day of the photo his tiny body had been smothered in tubes and equipment but, when it had been deemed that nothing more could be done for Declan, they had all been taken away. She and Craig had been given a comfortable room away from the hustle and bustle of the neonatal unit and had had a few precious hours alone with him.
Her parents Marnie had allowed in only briefly.
‘There will be time for other babies.’ No, her mother hadn’t been insensitive enough to say it on that day. It had been said when Marnie had first told her she was pregnant—that there would be plenty of time for other babies later down the track had been a large portion of her mother’s advice.
No, there would be no other babies.
Declan was her son and he forever had her heart.
Marnie ran her finger over the image and felt not the cold of the glass but the soft warmth of her baby’s skin. She looked into his dark blue eyes that were so weary from fighting and, just as she did every night, Marnie said goodnight to him.
Setting the photo down, Marnie set her alarm for six and then settled down on her yoga mat to get ready for an uncomfortable night, sleeping on the floor.
Not that she minded.
Yes, Marnie had been through far worse.
