‘It’s on everywhere. You’re not in Cromayr Bay now, where they have to come and change the reels...’
He was teasing, yet it made her laugh. ‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Give me your number and if I can I’ll text you if I’m not going to make it. But if I’m not there by a quarter past, just head for home. It’ll mean I’m stuck somewhere—nothing else. I won’t be avoiding you!’
He even turned the subject of her being a little lonely into a smile.
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Freya said, and recited her number. ‘And, no, I won’t be upset if...’ she started, but her voice trailed off as Stella came in.
‘Freya, I know you’re not due back yet, but we’ve got a bit of a rush on.’
‘Of course,’ Freya said, and she stood and finished the last of her soup, a little surprised when Richard spoke again.
‘I’ll see you around nine, then?’
Freya felt her cheeks were a little warm as she walked back round to the unit—because he had made it clear in front of Stella that they were meeting up tonight.
It meant nothing, she told herself. It was just two colleagues going out. If it had been Kelly or Pat or anyone else she wouldn’t be giving it too much thought and Stella was surely the same.
‘See Rose?’ Stella said, and pointed over to Rita, the domestic who had done her orientation with Freya on her first day.
‘Rita,’ Freya corrected as they walked.
‘Rita, then.’ Stella nodded. ‘See how it looks like she’s emptying the rubbish...?’
‘Er...yes,’ Freya answered.
‘Well, she’s not—she’s actually collecting all the discarded hearts...’
Freya pressed her lips together as she realised what Stella meant, and even managed a wry smile as Stella spoke on.
‘Oh, look, she’s going under the bed. Must have found another one. You know how he dashes from one emergency to another?’ She didn’t await Freya’s response. ‘Well, he’s the same with women.’
‘Stella.’ Freya stopped walking and gave her senior a wide smile—because she knew his reputation and because Stella had made her smile. ‘We’re going to the cinema. No more, no less.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
* * *
It was a slow evening by Primary Hospital standards, which would have meant a chaotic one back home! But by nine Freya was in the changing room. She took her phone from her locker, as she chose not to have it on her at work, and found herself letting out a breath of relief that there was no text from Richard to say he couldn’t make it.
And then she swallowed, because relief possibly wasn’t the right word.
Freya was nervous about tonight.
She so wanted to make friends.
Only this didn’t feel like any friendship Freya had ever known!
She pulled off her horrible uniform, changed into the grey linen dress and ballet pumps she had worn into work and let her hair down, pulling her curls out with her fingers.
In the end it was actually Freya who was a little late, and when she arrived at the entrance to Casualty he was checking his phone.
He was out of scrubs and in a suit, although minus a tie, and beside him Freya felt rather drab.
She looked far from drab, though. In fact, Richard thought as she walked towards him, she was wearing the same dress she had been on the day they had met.
And that was concerning, because usually he couldn’t recall what any woman had worn the previous night, let alone in previous weeks. He’d even joked to a friend that he’d be hell at reporting a missing person because he’d be unable to tell the police what the missing person was wearing.
He didn’t really notice such things, other than thinking, Oh, she looks nice.
With Freya though he’d be able to describe in detail to any police officer that the dress was grey linen, and it was a touch looser than it had been on the day they had met.
Yes, Officer, she had on black pumps and no stockings, just pale slender legs. And her hair was worn down. It didn’t actually sit on her shoulders since it’s too curly for that, it just holds its wild shape there. And she has green eyes, Officer, and soft full lips.
Anything else? the officer would ask.
Well, she’s been a bit lonely since she arrived here, he would say. I didn’t give it too much thought at the time...
But he was giving it some serious thought now.
Not that he showed his concern. Richard, thanks to his job, was incredibly good at that.
‘Right,’ he said as they headed out onto the street. ‘The film is on at ten, so if we skip all the trailers we’ll have time to go and get something decent to eat. I am sick of eating on the run.’
‘That sounds brilliant.’
‘Are you on in the morning?’ he asked.
Freya nodded.
‘And me.’
And then Freya was delivered another thinly veiled warning as Stella dashed past them to a car in which presumably her husband had come to meet her. ‘Enjoy the film, Freya!’
‘I will,’ Freya called back.
‘Has she been telling tales about me?’ Richard asked as they walked out onto the street.
‘No!’
The street was busy enough that it could have been a Saturday during the day back home, and she was glad it was dark enough that he’d hopefully missed her blush as she lied.
‘Of course she has,’ Richard said. ‘And they’re all true.’
‘Then it’s a good job we’re just heading out to see a film,’ Freya said.
‘Indeed.’
But first they would eat...
‘Is Italian okay?’ he checked, and she nodded as he led them to a very lovely casual-looking restaurant, tucked away from the main street.
Freya only realised just how hungry she was as the gorgeous scents inside hit her, and they were guided to a table looking out onto the street.
‘Can I get you some drinks to start?’ the waiter offered.
‘Freya?’ Richard asked.
‘Just
