The Doctor's Tender Secret. Kate Hardy

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have you been doing these fund-raisers?’

      ‘The Wednesday night music club? Nearly a year,’ Judith said. ‘It was Zo’s idea. Paeds needed some equipment and the finance lot wouldn’t cough up.’

      ‘So she did a promise auction to raise the funds,’ Holly said.

      ‘She talked me into promising to sing for one night at London City General Social Club,’ Judith explained, ‘and somehow it’s grown into this monthly thing.’

      ‘I think I mentioned that we split the proceeds between Paeds, the maternity unit and the emergency department,’ Zoe said. ‘I’ll go and sort some more wine while you three talk set lists and promotional stuff. Red OK with everyone?’

      By the end of the evening, Brad was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. A lot. It was the first evening in nearly a year when he hadn’t spent every single second thinking of Lara. Zoe might be a whirlwind, but she had a good heart, and she’d even given him another chance to back out of the Wednesday night fund-raiser without losing face—not that he’d taken her up on it. He still didn’t want to disappoint her.

      Between the three of them, they’d brought him completely out of his shell—to the point where he was even sharing scurrilous anecdotes with them and swapping med school jokes. He’d thought he’d never be able to smile again, let alone laugh. But there was something about Zoe, something warm and friendly and kind and—

      Stop right there, he told himself. You’re not getting involved.

      ‘Right. I’m on an early tomorrow, so I’m going to leave you party animals to it,’ Zoe announced after her third latte.

      Judith glanced at her watch. ‘I didn’t realise it was that late! I’d better be making tracks, too.’

      ‘And me,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve got a paper I’m supposed to be finishing.’

      ‘I’ll see you home,’ Brad said, and they all started laughing. ‘What?’ he asked, mystified.

      ‘It’s very gentlemanly of you, and we appreciate the offer. But, apart from the fact that we’ve all lived around here since we were students and know the area like the backs of our hands, Holl’s my next-door neighbour. So we’re fine walking each other home,’ Judith told him, tucking her hand into the crook of Holly’s elbow.

      ‘I’m fine, too,’ Zoe put in swiftly.

      ‘You live in the same road?’ Brad asked.

      ‘Er, no. In the opposite direction,’ she admitted.

      ‘Then how do I put it? Let me see you home safely, or I might pick up a virus from one of our patients next Wednesday afternoon which stops me singing or playing the piano,’ Brad said.

      ‘Do as the man says, Zo,’ Holly directed. ‘Or you’ll have to take his place next week and sing with Jude.’

      ‘They’d probably pay us even more for me not to sing,’ Zoe teased, but it was obvious she realised she was beaten and she gave in with good grace. She hugged the others goodbye and then she was walking down the narrow side streets with Brad.

      ‘They’re nice, your friends,’ Brad said.

      ‘The best,’ Zoe said feelingly. ‘Look, I bulldozed you a bit about the fund-raiser.’

      ‘A bit?’

      ‘A lot. What I’m saying is, if you’d rather not, I do understand.’

      ‘No, I’ll do it. It sounds like fun.’

      ‘It is,’ Zoe said.

      They lapsed into silence, but it was companionable rather than awkward. When they reached Zoe’s terrace, they stopped outside the gate.

      ‘I’d ask you in for coffee,’ Zoe said, ‘but…’

      ‘The boyfriend wouldn’t like it?’ Brad guessed.

      ‘Something like that.’ If she had a boyfriend. Not that she wanted one. She was perfectly happy with her career as a paediatrician.

      ‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’

      For a moment, she thought that he was going to lean down and kiss her, and her senses went into overdrive. She could almost feel his mouth on hers. Soft, a little unsure at first, and then coaxing as she responded. And then—

      What’s this? You’re…Oh, God. I’m sorry, Zoe. I can’t do this…

      The words echoed in her mind, the words that had haunted her for ten years. The words that brought her back to the real world every time she thought that maybe it was time to drop her self-imposed ban on a relationship.

      Damaged goods.

      No. She was never, ever going to suffer that mixture of pity and revulsion in another man’s eyes. That meant no kissing—because kissing led to touching, touching led to removing clothes, and removing clothes would reveal the scars that nobody in London City General knew about, not even Holly and Judith. The scars Zoe kept well out of sight beneath long-sleeved, high-necked tops, or shirts that didn’t even have a hint of sheerness in their fabric. The scars that meant any man would reject her.

      ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, slipping inside the gateway and closing the wrought-iron gate firmly between them. ‘Thanks for seeing me home.’

      If Brad had noticed Zoe clamming up on him, he didn’t make an issue of it, to her relief. He was completely normal with her at work over the next couple of days, treating her as a valued colleague. A doctor, rather than a woman: which was just the way she wanted it. That was who she was. Dr Zoe Kennedy, paediatrician. Everyone’s friend. And nobody’s lover.

      ‘Can I borrow you for a minute, Zoe?’

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘I’ve got a case of suspected osteomyelitis,’ he said. ‘Little boy name of Andy Solomon. Aged six, soccer fanatic. Anyway, a couple of days ago he turned down a game of soccer in the park with his pals. His mum thought it was a bit strange—thought maybe he’d bruised himself as he’d been limping and his knee looked a bit swollen. That night, he developed a really high temperature. He’s flushed, restless—and she said the pain’s been getting worse. The GP referred him to us for an X-ray, bone scan and blood tests.’

      ‘Have you examined him?’ Zoe asked.

      Brad nodded. ‘He’s still got a fever—even though his mum’s been giving him infant paracetamol—the swelling and redness is obvious, it feels warm around the area and it’s clearly tender because he shielded his leg when I tried to palpate it.’

      ‘So you want blood tests—white blood cell count, erythrocyte sedimentation rate and C-reactive proteins. If it’s been going on for a few days…X-rays and an MRI scan? And a culture so we can see what’s causing it? Though in eighty per cent of cases it’ll be Staph aureus.’

      ‘You know your stuff.’ He gave her a quick smile that had her knees turning to jelly, despite her resolution not to let herself go all weak at the knees over him. ‘Can you start him on IV antibiotics?’

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