had to sort out her new school immediately.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.’
‘Over the sensory garden?’ She shrugged. ‘We agreed to disagree. And we’re fine as colleagues. I like the way you explain things to patients, and I like the fact you don’t look down at Theatre staff.’
‘Of course I don’t. I couldn’t operate without them,’ he said. ‘Literally.’
‘Which isn’t how your predecessor saw things, believe me,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s hard enough to settle in to a new team, but to do it when your home life’s going through massive changes as well—that’s a lot to ask of anyone.’
‘Maybe. I’m sorry if people think I’ve been snooty.’
‘Just a little standoffish. Shy, even.’ She smiled. ‘They’re a nice bunch. And they don’t judge. Obviously I’m not going to tell anyone what you’ve said to me, but if you feel like opening up at any time you’d get a good response. There are enough parents in the department who could give you a few tips on handling teenagers, though I think the big one is to stock up on cake and chocolate. That’s what my best friend’s mum did, anyway.’
‘And do you get on with your parents now?’
* * *
Tricky question. Erin knew that her mother still didn’t believe her about Creepy Leonard, and blamed Erin for the break-up of that relationship as well as for what had happened to Mikey. ‘We get along,’ she said carefully. Which was true enough. She and her mother managed to be coolly civil to each other on the rare occasions they accidentally met. But neither of her parents had been there for her when she’d needed them most; her father had been too cocooned in feeling guilty about leaving his family for someone else, and her mother had already thrown her out. And her brother, Mikey, was already paying the price for helping her earlier.
She’d never forgive herself for it. If she hadn’t called him in tears, hadn’t confided in him about what had happened to her, he would never have come to her rescue—and he would never have had the accident and ended up in a wheelchair.
‘You just do your best,’ she said with a bright smile. ‘So. You said you saw her at weekends and she stayed with you in the holidays. What sort of things did you do together?’
‘Things she finds too babyish now—building sandcastles, or going to the park or the zoo.’ He spread his hands. ‘And how bad is it that I don’t have a clue what my own daughter likes doing?’
‘The teen years are hard. You’re growing up and you don’t want people to treat you as if you’re still a kid—but at the same time you feel awkward around adults. It’s not all your fault,’ Erin said. ‘You said your sister was a deputy head. Can she help?’
‘Liza’s too far away. She lives in York and Caitlin’s only seen her half a dozen times in her life. Though obviously Liza deals with teens every day at work, so I asked her advice. She just said to take it slowly and give it time.’
‘That’s really good advice.’ Erin paused. ‘What about your mum?’
He sighed. ‘She tries. Caitlin goes to her place after school until I’ve finished at work and can pick her up. But there’s quite a generation gap between them and Caitlin doesn’t really talk to her, either.’
‘It sounds like a vicious circle—the harder you try, the more distance you end up putting between you all.’
‘Yeah. You’re right. We need help.’ He looked bleak. ‘Though I feel bad about burdening you.’
‘You’re not burdening me. I asked you what was wrong, and I offered to help. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to,’ she pointed out. ‘I remember what it was like for me. And I was difficult at fifteen. Rude, surly, wouldn’t let anyone close. I was the original nightmare teenager.’
‘And it got better?’
With her dad, at least; though they weren’t that close. ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It feels as if you’ve just taken a massive weight off my shoulders.’
And, oh, when he smiled like that... It made Erin’s heart do a funny little flip.
Which was completely inappropriate.
If they’d met at a different time in his life, things might’ve been different. But he didn’t need the extra complications of a relationship—especially with someone who had baggage like hers and didn’t believe in love any more.
So platonic it would be. It was all she could offer him. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ she said. ‘Though, be warned, you might think the weight’s back again plus a bit more, when I’ve had you weeding and carting heavy stones about and then muscles you’ve forgotten you had suddenly start to ache like mad.’
‘As you say—that’s what friends are for.’ He smiled again. ‘Thanks for lunch. My shout, next.’
‘OK. But I’m afraid I have to dash, now—I have clinic,’ she said, glancing at her watch.
‘And I have Theatre.’
‘Want to walk back to the unit with me?’ she asked.
He gave her another of those heart-stopping smiles. ‘Yes. I’d like that.’
She smiled back. ‘Right then, Mr Townsend. Let’s go see our patients.’
WEREN’T FAIRY GODMOTHERS meant to be little old ladies with baby-fine white hair pulled back into a bun, a double chin and a kind smile, who walked around singing, ‘Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo’? Nate wondered.
But the one Fate seemed to have sent him was nothing like that. Erin was six years younger than he was. Although she wore her hair caught back in a ponytail at work, it was the colour of ripe corn and the curls that escaped from her ponytail made him think more of a pre-Raphaelite angel’s hair, luxuriant and bright. She definitely didn’t have a double chin; and, although her smile was kind, it also made his heart flip.
Which wasn’t good.
If he’d met Erin at a different time in his life—before Caitlin had come to live with him, perhaps, or maybe after he and Caitlin had established a workable relationship—then he would’ve been interested in dating her. Very interested.
But right now, all he could offer her was friendship. And it was a relationship where Nate was horribly aware that he was doing most of the taking.
That evening, he said casually to Caitlin, ‘We’re going out on Saturday.’
She looked at him. ‘Why?’
‘I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I don’t need to meet the women you date.’
‘She’s
