to the other patients on the ward. One o’clock came and went, and it was only when Lucas startled her by coming onto the ward that she remembered she was supposed to have met up with him. Seeing him stride briskly into her territory filled her with unease. What would it take for him to realise that she really didn’t want to get to know him better?
‘Since you didn’t come to the restaurant for lunch,’ he remarked, walking to where she stood by the nurses’ station, writing up her notes, ‘I thought I’d better bring lunch to you.’
He was holding two sturdy, waxed carrier bags, and she frowned, wondering what on earth he had brought with him. ‘Um … we’ve been really busy here this morning,’ she murmured.
‘Of course. It’s like that down in A and E all the time. The only difference is we encourage staff to take their breaks whenever possible, otherwise they’ll begin to flag before the day is out.’
He glanced around the ward. ‘Everything looks fairly peaceful here at the moment. Dare I hope that you might come and share some food with me?’ He lifted a dark brow in invitation, wafting one of the bags in front of her nose. A delicious aroma of cinnamon, fruit and pastries filled the air, and in spite of herself Sophie’s mouth began to water.
‘I take it you haven’t already eaten?’ he queried.
She shook her head. ‘Not since I grabbed a cereal bar this morning. I should have stopped for a snack mid-morning, but you know how it is—something cropped up.’
He tut-tutted. ‘It won’t do, you know. Doctors have to take care of themselves. How else can they expect to be fit enough to take care of their patients?’ He looked around. ‘Is there somewhere we can go to sit and eat this?’
She frowned. It would be criminal to let that food go to waste. ‘The office is empty right now,’ she suggested. ‘There’s a kettle in there, so we can have a hot drink if you like.’
‘No need,’ he said, ‘unless you’d rather have tea. It’s all in hand. I brought coffee along with me.’
‘Okay.’ She showed him into the office, and then peered into the carrier bags that he set down on the desk. ‘Goodness! You thought of everything.’
His grey eyes crinkled. ‘I do my best.’ He began to take out packages, and Sophie watched as appetising dishes appeared one by one.
‘I’m overwhelmed.’ Sophie smiled as she surveyed the feast. ‘It’s everything I might have bought for myself.’
‘It just goes to show that great minds think alike,’ he murmured, setting out cutlery on the desktop. He sat down opposite her. ‘So, how come you only managed a cereal bar this morning? If that’s how you normally go on, it’s no wonder you have fainting attacks.’
‘Like I said, I’d really rather forget about that,’ she answered, frowning. ‘I told you I was stressed. It’s just that there’s so much to do, what with feeding the animals twice a day and making sure they’re clean and comfortable. Then there are the eggs to collect, and the fruit needs picking before it rots on the stems. We grow several different kinds of fruit on the farm—strawberries, raspberries, redcurrants and cranberries.’
She drew in a quick breath. ‘It’s late in the season, but a good many of the plants are still fruiting because they’re under cover in polythene tunnels. I should have started on it before this, but there’s been so much to do. It was okay when my parents were alive, because they took care of everything. I helped out when I could, but coping with all this on my own is a bit beyond me at the moment.’
Her expression was thoughtful. ‘The cranberries, especially, are ripe for picking. Every year I would help my mother gather them in, and then we would make cranberry sauce, jar upon jar of the stuff, ready for the Christmas season. She’d give it away to friends, neighbours, anyone who wanted it, really.’ She picked up her fork. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do this year. It won’t seem the same somehow. Christmas is going to be nothing like what it was before. How could it be?’
‘The first year will be the worst.’ He frowned. ‘I’m sure your friends will be keen to invite you to their places, though. After all, it’s a time when you should be with other people.’
‘Maybe. Or I could go and help out at a refuge, or somewhere.’
‘You have a while yet to think it through.’ He sprinkled cheese over his baked potato and dug in a fork. ‘In the meantime, maybe you should think of bringing in some help around the farm.’
She nodded, causing her honey-blonde hair to glide silkily over her shoulders. ‘I thought of asking around in the village. I put an advert in the local paper, but so far no one’s answered. There might be some teenagers looking for part-time work, though. I suppose I could put a notice in the newsagent’s shop. I already have people to help with the other crops—we grow vegetables and corn, but they aren’t really a problem. It’s just the animals that I worry about.’ She helped herself to salad, enjoying the crisp flavours and the sweet tang of mayonnaise.
She glanced at him. ‘You said that your parents have a farm. I suppose you must have been brought up there?’
‘Not exactly. It’s something they took up after they opted for early retirement, but they’ve taken to it surprisingly well. I suppose it’s what prompted me to move to the area. My sister and her family came over here to be near them, and I decided to follow suit. We’ve always been close as a family, and this part of the Cotswolds appealed to me—it’s really lovely. I worked at one of the hospitals in the surrounding area for a time, and then this post came up, exactly what I wanted, so I grabbed it with both hands.’ He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. ‘As to the farm, it’s more the kind of place where people can visit—children come to see the animals or play in the hay barn. And then there are trailer rides and a play area.’
Her mouth curved. ‘It sounds wonderful. What did your parents do before they retired?’
He added salad to his plate. ‘My father was a GP and my mother worked as a health visitor. Even my sister, Ella, joined the profession. She was a nurse, but she gave it up when she and her husband started a family.’ He grinned. ‘It’s something she seems to be good at—she’s pregnant again. This will be her third child.’
Sophie thought about that for a moment. ‘I think it would have been good to be part of a family like that. I was an only child, but I often wished I had a brother or a sister.’ She lifted her shoulders briefly. ‘It wasn’t to be.’
‘It happens that way, sometimes. I was fortunate.’ He helped himself to a spiced fruit bun. ‘So how did you come to study medicine?’
She took a sip of coffee before she answered him. ‘I’m not sure when it began, but I’ve always known that I wanted to work with children. Perhaps it was because I had no brothers and sisters. I was around eleven years old when our neighbours’ children were taken ill with meningitis, and that had a profound effect on me. They were my friends and I was scared they might not get better, but our GP rushed them into hospital and when they came home a few weeks later, they were fine. I was impressed. I thought hospital work was something I might do later on.’
‘I think you chose the right career. You were very good with James earlier—tender, caring and professional at the same time. His parents are reassured that he’s in good hands.’
‘I’m glad they feel that way.’ She finished off her coffee. ‘He
