army training camp—and, despite what she says, Mum’s had a grand afternoon gossiping to Jess about the fair Emerald Isle.’
Meg attempted to smile, but it died on her lips.
‘She was upset, you know.’ Kathy squeezed Meg’s hand. ‘Really upset.’
‘And now she’s angry.’
‘You know what Mum can be like.’
Meg did know—only too well. The last few months had been a nightmare. It was bad enough finding out that your boyfriend of eighteen months, the man you’d adored, actually thought you had a future with, was in fact married. And not just married. Married to your colleague’s sister, who just happened to go to the same church as your mum. So not only had Meg felt the wrath of disapproval from her colleagues at Melbourne City Hospital, there had been the wrath of her mother to deal with.
Mary O’Sullivan wasn’t sure which was the greater of the two evils. The fact her eldest daughter had been branded a home-wrecker, or the undeniable fact that Meg wasn’t a virgin.
And now she had trashed her car.
‘I hate this year.’
‘I know, but there’s always next year.’
‘Next year will probably be just the same.’
‘It won’t.’ Kathy insisted. ‘You’ve got a new job, new friends, a whole new start. All you have to do is loosen up a bit.’
‘Loosen up?’
‘Try letting people in. It’s a nice world out there. I know Vince hurt you, but not all men are the same.’
Just the mention of his name bought forth a whole fresh batch of tears. Meg hadn’t cried since the day they broke up, and certainly not in front of anyone, but the egg on her head combined with the pain in her chest was such a horrible combination that for once crying came naturally.
‘I’ve got some news that might cheer you up,’ Kathy said desperately. Seeing her sister, who never cried, sobbing in the bed was torture. ‘How do you fancy being a bridesmaid?’
Like a tap being turned off, Meg instantly stopped crying, her eyes swinging round to her sister.
‘You’re engaged?’
‘I have been for…’ Kathy glanced at her watch. ‘Twenty hours now. He asked me last night.’
‘Who, Jake?’
Kathy gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘No, the tram conductor. Of course it’s Jake. Who else?’
‘What does Mum have to say about it?’ Meg asked slowly.
‘Well, the fact we want to get married so quickly— on Valentine’s Day, actually—led to a few sticky questions, but we’ve finally managed to convince her that it’s not a shotgun wedding. We’re just head over heels and want to do it as soon as possible. She’s tickled pink, actually, and insisting that we have an engagement party. But I’ve told her that the most we want is a casual dinner.’
Meg gave a wry laugh. ‘So no doubt she’ll spend tomorrow on the telephone, ringing up hundreds of relatives.’
‘Probably,’ Kathy conceded. ‘But after she’s been in to see you, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘Whoops, look like I’d better make myself scarce—here comes Flynn now.’
Meg screwed up her forehead. ‘Flynn? Do you know him?’
‘He’s a friend of Jake’s…’ As Flynn approached the bed Kathy’s voice trailed off.
‘Good evening, Meg—Kathy.’ He gave her sister a friendly nod.
‘Hi, Flynn. I’ll leave you to it; see you in the morning, Sis.’ Popping a quick kiss on Meg’s cheek, Kathy limped off.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better. Well, sore but better.’ The beginning of a blush was creeping over her cheeks.
‘That’s good. You’ve had a very lucky escape, Meg, all your tests have come back as normal. Apart from a lot of bruising, which is going to hurt for a while, and a mild concussion, you’ve got off very lightly.’ He peered at his notes for a moment, and Meg watched as he fiddled uncomfortably with his pen. ‘Can you remember what happened yet?’
Meg shook her head. Normally she would have left it there, but there was something about Flynn, something about the way he had smiled at her this morning, the drama they had shared, that made her take the plunge and for the first time in ages prolong a conversation. ‘No, but I do remember you offering to save me a Danish pastry. You didn’t, by any chance, did you?’
Her attempt at small talk was instantly to her dying shame rebuffed.
‘Apparently the police seem to think that you might have fallen asleep at the wheel.’
Embarrassed at his businesslike tone, Meg felt her blush only deepen. ‘I didn’t!’
‘There were no skid marks at the scene, and apparently you were exhausted when you left this morning—though Jess told only me that, I hasten to add. I haven’t written it in my notes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. ‘Why the hell didn’t you get a taxi?’
She knew he was wrong, knew somehow that the picture he was painting wasn’t how it had happened, but her total lack of recall didn’t put her in the best position to argue the point.
‘I didn’t fall asleep,’ Meg intoned.
‘The police…’
‘The police are wrong,’ she retorted quickly. ‘And anyway, it’s none of your business.’ She knew she was being rude, but something about Flynn had her acting completely out of character. The little hint about the Danish pastry, the blush that wouldn’t go away—and now she was answering him back. It wasn’t actually out of character. It was more the old Meg. The Meg before Vince had extinguished every last piece of her fiery personality.
Flynn begged to differ. ‘Oh, but it is my business, young lady. It became my business at precisely four minutes past eight this morning, when I stabilised your neck in the wreckage of your car.’ His voice was curt and formal, with no hint of the man who had held her hand just this morning, cajoled her to stay awake—who, even in the most dire of circumstances, had actually managed to make her laugh. ‘It became my business when I found out that one of the nurses in my department was so damned tired after her night shift she nearly killed herself. And,’ he added, standing over her so she had no choice but to look at him, ‘had you wiped out an entire family, no doubt it would have been left to me to deal with it. So you see, Meg—’ his lip curled around her name ‘—it is my business.’
Despite his anger, it wasn’t a no holds barred attack, Meg realised. Not once had he mentioned the very real danger he had put himself in by staying with her throughout the ordeal, and his modest omission somehow touched her.
He stood there for a moment, his eyes challenging her to respond, but she was too tired and too utterly defeated to argue.
