‘Good. That’s great.’ It was. Healthy young boys with damaged limbs were a nightmare to entertain and keep quiet, but fortunately for the most part they healed at a huge rate of knots and thus weren’t such a drastic problem.
‘You just want to get rid of me,’ he said mournfully, and Allie laughed.
‘You guessed, Tim.’
Tim flashed her a grin and set off again. He was getting too darned good on those crutches—
‘Can I make a suggestion?’
Allie glanced up at Mark, glowering at his twinkling eyes and twitching mouth.
‘Change my clothes, perhaps?’
‘You guessed.’ He smiled. ‘Great minds, eh?’
She sniffed, curled up her nose expressively and headed for the sluice.
‘I’ll just strip this tabard off and find a clean shirt, then I’ll be back to write that lot up. I don’t suppose you’d like to report it to the surgical team? Oh, and find someone to sort Amy out?’
‘Sure.’ Mark grinned, waggled his fingers and went into the office to use the phone, and Allie dealt with the little crisis to her person, washed her hands for the thousandth time that day and pulled on a clean shirt from the stores.
‘Hi-ho,’ she mumbled, tugging the clean tabard straight and heading back to the ward.
Mark sniffed and smiled. ‘Better.’
‘All part of the job,’ she said with a grin. ‘I’ll go and check on Amy. I just dropped her, poor little kid. Did you find anyone to sort her out?’
‘Anna’s gone to do it.’
‘Thanks.’ She flashed him a grateful smile and went to see how Amy was now. Anna was still with her, changing her and settling her on a clean draw-sheet.
‘OK?’
Allie smiled. ‘Yes, thanks. I always get in the way.’
‘Don’t we all? Her mother’s on the way back—I rang the coffee shop and asked them to tell her. She’d just nipped in for breakfast. The surgical reg is on his way down—I think they may operate this morning now.’
Allie nodded. ‘I wondered. Still, she’s on nil by mouth already, so there’s no delay.’
Mrs Fulcher arrived back then, and Allie left Anna talking to her and went to see what else she could find. As sure as eggs, there’d be plenty.
It was after four before she got away, not the three o’clock her shift should have ended, but they’d had a flood of post-ops back from General Surgery and Orthopaedics, and she’d had to say goodbye to Tim, and what with one thing and another the time had just slipped by.
She went home and threw her washing together and walked to the laundrette round the corner, read an out-of-date magazine while the clothes sloshed round in the machine and then read another one while the tumble dryer finished the job. She didn’t get home until half past six, and then had to plead with Lucy for the bathroom.
Consequently she was late—which was a nuisance because it meant Lucy got to answer the door and let Mark in, and Allie was like a cat on hot bricks while she finished getting ready, wondering what she was saying.
She needn’t have worried. Lucy, predictably, was talking about herself, and Mark was looking polite. Funny how she could read him already—or did she mean still?
She flashed him a smile. ‘Hi. Sorry I’m late—I had to go to the laundrette and do the dreaded washing.’
‘That’s OK.’ He stood up and smiled at her flatmate. ‘Nice to meet you, Lucy,’ he murmured, and taking Allie’s arm, he ushered her out of the door.
His car was outside—a very normal, ordinary car, nothing too big, just a sensible car for the town. She was surprised. She would have expected him to have a—well, a sexier car, somehow, but what? A Ferrari, for heaven’s sake? A Mercedes?
He was only an SHO.
And that was another thing that was puzzling her. Surely by now he should have been a registrar? Unless he’d taken time out for something else … She’d have to ask.
He opened the passenger door for her, went round and slid behind the wheel. Suddenly the car seemed much smaller, and astonishingly intimate.
‘All set?’ he asked, throwing her a grin, and she nodded.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Pulham St Peter. It’s just north of here, and the pub’s very good, so I’m told.’
Pulham wasn’t far. She settled back against the actually very comfortable seat and watched him out of the corner of her eye. Within seconds she was totally relaxed. He was a good driver, quiet, competent and not hasty, but he didn’t hang about, either.
She realised she felt safe, and it was a strange feeling. She was normally edgy with other people driving her. She didn’t have long to worry about it, though, because they were pulling up in the pub car park in no time, and he was ushering her into the busy, crowded bar.
It was noisy and full, but by a miracle another couple vacated a table in the corner just as they had got their drinks and they were able to sit down out of the way and study the menu.
‘Shall we eat in here, or in the restaurant?’ he asked her.
Conscious of the price and the fact that tonight she was definitely going halves, she said, ‘In here, I think.’
He nodded, scanned the menu again and looked at her. ‘Decided yet?’
‘Scampi and chips—and I’m paying for mine.’
He chuckled. ‘How did I know that?’
He went to the bar armed with her money and placed the order and paid, and then came back and handed her her change. ‘There you are, you stubborn, independent young woman.’
She smiled and pocketed the money. She felt better now. She didn’t want to feel she owed him anything. Not that he would take advantage, but there had been the odd occasion in her past where a man had felt he had a right to her body because she’d accepted a meal from him. It hadn’t taken her long to dissuade her erstwhile suitors, but it had left a nasty taste in the mouth, and she didn’t want to mess up their budding relationship—
‘Penny for them.’
She laughed. ‘Not a chance. What are you having?’
‘Same as you.’
Their eyes clashed, and she looked away, her heart hammering. Oh, Lord. It would be so easy to fall for him. She cast around for a neutral topic of conversation, and remembered her thoughts about his career progression.
‘Tell me about your work,’ she said, sipping her drink. ‘How come you’re still an SHO?
