in hospitals, used for the morgue,’ he reminded her, while he wondered why small, even teeth should have made such an impression on him.
Teeth?
Surely he wasn’t developing a tooth fetish.
‘Not here,’ she said cheerfully, leading him out of the elevator and along a wide corridor decorated with a bright mural depicting zoo animals.
She pushed open a door and they entered a small, fenced-off foyer, beyond which Angus could see a big, bright room, bright because the whole of one wall was glass, and beyond the glass was a playground—a sunlit playground!
‘We’re in a basement?’ he queried as he took in the children in groups around tables in the big room, and beyond it another room with a wide window so he could see cots set up within it.
‘The hospital is built on a hill. It wasn’t hard to excavate a little more on this side so the children had an outdoor area.’
A woman came towards them, greeting Kate with genuine delight.
‘You’ve been a stranger,’ she said. ‘After you did so much to help get the after-hours arrangement set up, we all felt you were part of our team.’
To Angus’s surprise, Kate Armstrong looked embarrassed by the praise, but she rallied and introduced him.
‘Mary is the director of the centre,’ Kate explained, ‘so if you want to get your children in, she’s the one you need to talk to.’
‘Of course, the children of hospital staff get priority but we do take in children from the local area, as well,’ Mary explained. ‘You’ll be looking for something—for how many children and what ages?’
‘Just the one,’ Angus replied. ‘Hamish is four and moving to Australia is a big change in his life. I feel if he can make some friends here, he’ll settle in more easily.’
‘Of course he will,’ Mary assured him. ‘And we can take another child in our four-year-old group. In fact, we’ll be particularly happy to have a boy, as we’re a bit top-heavy with girls in that group. Would you like to come in and look around now, or would some other time suit you? Perhaps a time when you can bring your wife?’
Angus closed his eyes briefly. There always came a moment! He shored up the defences he’d built around his heart and answered calmly.
‘I’m a single parent,’ he said, happy the phrase was so familiar these days that no questions followed it. ‘But as Kate’s been seconded to show me where the supermarket is, and I don’t want to take up too much of her time,’ he added to Mary, ‘perhaps I could come back this afternoon?’
‘Any time,’ she said. ‘And you’re in good hands with Kate. If anyone knows her way around a supermarket, it’s our Dr Armstrong.’
‘Why would she say that?’ he asked his guide as they walked back to the elevator.
The redhead shrugged, looking thoroughly embarrassed once again. He knew it must be her colouring but it was unusual—refreshing?—to see a woman blush these days. But as they waited for the elevator, she shook off her embarrassment and explained.
‘When the childcare centre first asked the hospital powers that be about extending hours, the usual objections were raised—costs, and where would the money come from, et cetera—so a few of us, mostly parents and childcare centre staff, began to fund-raise with the aim of getting enough money to trial the idea. We baked a lot of cakes over a couple of months, selling them within the hospital to patients, visitors and staff. We used the kindergarten kitchen after hours and as my hours were fairly erratic—and to be perfectly honest I’m not much of a biscuit or cake cook—I was the chief shopper.’
‘And you don’t have children?’
The elevator had arrived but she didn’t move, looking at him again, the defiance in her eyes echoed in the slight tilt of her chin.
‘No, but that’s not to say I won’t ever have them.’
Did she feel she’d been too adamant that she added quickly, ‘And a lot of the people involved in the fund-raising were my friends.’
They rode back up to the ground floor, the questions he’d have liked to ask—was she married, did her husband work at the hospital—were too personal when they’d just met. There was something about her—pale skin, delicate features and a slim dancer’s body, straight-backed, head held high—that reminded him of the delicate porcelain figurines his mother collected, so he kept sneaking looks at her.
At least, he thought that’s why he kept looking at her. It had to be; he didn’t look at women any other way these days—well, not often, and definitely not at women who were colleagues.
Yet he was intrigued enough to ask the questions anyway.
‘You seem positive about the children in your future. Are you already married to their father? Engaged?’
They were walking through a fairly crowded foyer so someone bumped into her when she stopped abruptly and he had to put out his hand to grab her shoulder and steady her. But the people around them didn’t seem to bother her as she studied him for a moment, then gave a rueful smile, cheeks pink again.
‘Not married, not even engaged, but all I’ve wanted to be since I was eleven is a grandmother, and, being a doctor, I do understand I’ll have to be a mother first.’
She’d made a joke of it, but underneath her light-hearted confession, Angus sensed a deeper emotion and wondered if this was a stock answer she gave to fend off further questions. It must have some basis in truth, so what had happened when she was eleven?
And why was he wondering?
Then she added, ‘Maybe,’ and the word had such sad undertones he wanted to hug her—a comforting hug, nothing more, but not something he made a habit of doing with colleagues.
It was strange that the man’s questions had Kate coming out with something she’d never told a soul, not even her best friend. And while it was true it had been an ambition since childhood, she’d blurted it out it because the pang she always felt when the question of children arose had surprised her today with its intensity.
Had he fallen for the grandmother excuse? Who would? A diversion—that’s what she needed.
‘There’s a coffee shop here that does good coffee and great friands, a sort of pastry. Let’s fortify ourselves for the shopping trip.’
She waved her hand in the direction of the coffee shop, then realised half the hospital could be taking a break there. Walking in with a man who’d immediately be established in the hospital’s top-ten most handsome could give rise to the kind of gossip she hated.
‘No, a better idea would be to show you the best little eating place around here. The breakfast crowd will have gone and the morning coffee crowd not arrived. It’s a bit of a walk but through a nice park. Come on.’
What was she doing? It had to be more than strangeness in her stomach from mouldy bread that had her confessing her grandmother obsession to the man one minute, then asking him to Scoozi for coffee the next.
Someone
