a foot in the door to stop it closing. ‘Have you thought about Esme upstairs, all excited about this trip, while you’re down here thinking about leaving? ‘We have a job to do, here, Cohen.’
‘Have I thought about Esme? She is all I think about!’
He regretted his words. ‘I’m sorry. I just... God, woman, just let me in.’
She tutted loudly as she moved from blocking the door, and he squeezed into the cabin after her.
Looking around, he let out a small laugh that he stifled before she got even more annoyed. ‘This is where they put you?’
‘Why? Where did they put you?’ Sara looked confused now, forgetting her anger for a second.
He bit his tongue. It probably wasn’t the best time to tell her that he’d been given a double suite all to himself. He had a leather couch, a balcony, a mini-bar and a TV, complete with a shelf full of DVDs. One of them was Titanic. He couldn’t imagine anyone watching Titanic on a cruise ship...
Sara was gathering up items from the tiny bathroom to put in her suitcase. ‘Wow... OK, Cohen, you’re serious.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
‘I always call you that—it’s your name, isn’t it? Unless you’re married.’ He feigned indifference. Anton had told him she was single—as far as he knew, at least.
‘I’m not married,’ she confirmed quickly. ‘I never was. Esme’s father is long gone.’
He saw her cast a glance to his finger—checking for a ring, perhaps?
‘I’ve been too busy to date much, never mind get married. The practice takes a lot of work,’ he explained.
‘I’m sure it does. It always did.’
Her dig stung.
‘Don’t you think it will look a wee bit strange to our patients if one of their trusted dialysis nurses disembarks before we’ve even gone anywhere?’ he pointed out. ‘You’ve come a long way for this, Sara. You both have.’
Sara ignored him, though she’d started packing more slowly already. She knew she had no intention of leaving—not really. She was just feeling put on the spot, out of her depth.
‘So, how long has Esme been on dialysis?’ He lowered himself onto the single bed and noticed two knitting needles and a ball of red wool sticking out of the case before she pulled a sweater on top of them.
‘Too long. She was eight months old when she got E. coli. It got worse and turned into HUS.’
‘Haemolytic uremic syndrome?’ He was well aware of how such a disease could destroy the kidneys.
‘She’s on the transplant list but there’s never been a match for her. I tell her it’s because she’s special—which she is. She’s so special that none of her family can help her with a new kidney.’
The tone of her voice made him reach a hand to her arm again, briefly. ‘That must be tough, Sara.’
She studied his long fingers. ‘It’s OK. We live with Dad and he helps out at home. We have things under control...most of the time. So where exactly is your cabin, hotshot?’
She clearly wanted to change the subject. ‘Hotshot?’ he said out loud. Sara was pretty hot too, from what he remembered.
They’d met in Edinburgh, where she’d been in training for an advanced nursing degree. At the time he’d been in and out of St Enid’s hospital, in his last year of a three-year residency, and he’d noticed her at first because of her knitting. Sara Cohen had knitted whenever she’d had a spare moment. Baby clothes, she’d told him later, on their first date, for the kids on the children’s ward.
He’d only really taken notice of her that time in the treatment room, when she’d done some tests on him ahead of a marathon he’d been about to run. He recalled it again now—that day the sparks had first flown—and couldn’t help smiling ruefully.
‘My cabin’s up on the second deck,’ he told her, picturing them both in his bed as he said it. He couldn’t help it.
The Tannoy cut in.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be leaving port in approximately fifteen minutes. Please do join us on the top deck for your welcome drink and to wave goodbye to land for a couple of days. We wish you all a safe and happy journey!’
‘I have to go.’ Sara dragged her suitcase off the bed, narrowly missing his foot with it.
Fraser took it from her hands with ease. ‘Give me a break, Cohen. You know you don’t really want to go.’
‘I told you to stop calling me that.’
She flung the cabin door open and heaved the suitcase from his hands, hauling it out into the corridor. She made it to the elevator again, panting, and pressed the button.
Part of him was impressed. ‘You’re seriously going to get off this ship? In front of everyone up there?’ he asked in the elevator. The mirrors reflected an infinite number of Saras. He didn’t miss her looking at him, though.
‘Yes, Fraser, that is exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘I can’t wait to see this.’ He could tell she thought she’d gone too far with her dramatics to back down now. As stubborn as ever.
Back on deck, he held his hand up to stop a porter rushing to help her. Esme wandered over to them. She was holding a camcorder. He noticed her catheter now, the pink of her cheeks.
‘Well, hello again, you.’ He bent down to her height, held out his hand. ‘We never officially met.’
The kid had Sara’s eyes—almond-shaped pools filled with questions. What kind of father would abandon his kid? He didn’t know the full story, of course, but he couldn’t imagine it was a happy one.
‘Are you having fun?’ he asked her.
‘Kind of. What’s my mum doing?’
Sara was trying her hardest to stop three men from pulling in a walkway that led down to the pier. Someone blew a whistle. People were waving goodbye to others below.
‘Your mum’s just processing some new information. She’ll be fine. I see we have the ship’s film-maker on board already. Have you got any good stuff yet, Miss Spielberg?’
She giggled. ‘Some.’
‘Maybe we can take you behind the scenes sometime? Show you the kitchens and the bridge?’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Yes, please! Can I get some film of you?’
‘Only if you capture my good side. Which side do you think that is?’ He turned his head from side to side, pulling different faces as he did so, and Esme giggled again, her whole face lighting up.
From the corner of his eye he saw Sara watching them.
