wait for the glitter churros,’ she said.
Clearly he thought she’d been exaggerating to tease him, because when she came back from buying their hot chocolates and churros, she saw his beautiful cornflower-blue eyes widen. ‘They really are glittery.’
‘They started doing them last year. I’m on a mission to persuade the hospital canteen to start stocking them and I don’t care if they’re bad for your teeth—they’re so lovely and uplifting,’ she said with a grin. She set the box between them, and their paper cups of hot chocolate on either side. ‘Sorry. I forgot to ask if you wanted cream on top.’
‘It’s fine without,’ he said.
And it was fine, until her fingers brushed against his while they were dipping the churros into the pot of chocolate sauce. Her skin tingled where he touched her: which was ridiculous. They were colleagues, just about starting to become friends. She knew they both had baggage that would get in the way of anything else, so she really had to get a grip instead of letting herself give in to fantasies that just couldn’t ever happen.
Or she could blame her feelings on the sugar rush of the churros.
Because nothing remotely romantic was going to happen between herself and Jamie Thurston.
She hauled herself back under control and made light conversation until they’d finished eating.
‘Guess it’s time to go home,’ she said. ‘George will be wondering where I am.’
‘I hate to put a downer on you, but don’t goldfish have a memory of about three seconds?’ Jamie asked.
‘Actually, no. My nephew Will did a summer project on goldfish last year. He spent ages researching on the Internet, and then he did a flashy presentation for me. Apparently, there’s a university study where goldfish learned to press a lever to dispense food. The researchers changed it so the lever would only work for one certain hour a day, and the fish learned to press the lever during that one-hour window so they’d get the food. And in another study the researchers rang a bell at feeding time for a month, released the fish into the sea, then played the sound five months later and the fish came straight back, expecting their dinner.’
‘Like Pavlov’s dog—Pavlov’s fish?’ Jamie asked.
‘Exactly. George knows my routine.’ She smiled. ‘So I’d better make a move. Thanks for coming to the Christmas fair with me.’
‘It wasn’t as hard as I expected,’ Jamie admitted.
‘Good. So tomorrow you’re going to give me your menu choices for the ward’s Christmas meal,’ she said. ‘And are you free on Thursday evening?’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe we can go skating on Thursday. Shall I book tickets for eight o’clock?’
He took a deep breath. ‘OK. My aversion therapy for Christmas continues. Are you good at skating?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
‘Better than bowling?’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be mean. Are you good at skating, then?’
‘I’m taking the Fifth on that one.’
‘You can’t. You’re not American,’ she pointed out. ‘Can you skate, or do I need to find out if they have an adult version of those penguins they use for toddlers?’
To her delight, he actually laughed. ‘I am not going to a skating rink and holding on to a ginormous penguin.’
‘Oh, good. So you can skate. I’ll be expecting flashy moves, you know. Axle jumps, swizzles and twizzles, and camel spins.’
He looked at her. ‘Did you just make those up?’
‘Nope. I can assure you, they’re all real moves.’
He looked horrified. ‘So you’re practically a professional skater.’
She took pity on him. ‘More like I love watching that show when they have celebs learning to skate with the pros, and I’ve picked up all the lingo from there.’ Then she frowned. ‘Actually, that’s a point. There’s going to be music at any skating rink in London, and I promised you we’d avoid music. Would you rather we did something else?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but isn’t the point of aversion therapy to face the thing that makes you uncomfortable?’
‘It is,’ she agreed, ‘but I don’t want to push you so far out of your comfort zone that you run back to the centre at the speed of light and never come out again.’
‘We’ll go skating,’ he said.
‘And if it gets too much for you, then we can leave,’ she said. ‘Even if it’s in the middle of a song.’
‘That’s a more than fair compromise. Thank you. I’ll walk you home,’ he said, and carried her parcels all the way back to her gate.
‘You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of coffee and to meet George,’ she said.
‘Another time, maybe,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘See you.’ And funny how his smile made her feel all warm inside.
ON MONDAY EVENING Anna went straight from work to have dinner with her sister Jojo and sister-in-law Becky. She thoroughly enjoyed the chance to read a bedtime story to two-year-old Noah, even though part of her couldn’t help thinking wistfully of what might have been. If her own plans had worked out, she would have done this every night with her own children, sharing stories and cuddles and laughter.
But she was lucky enough to see lots of her nephews and nieces and to share in their upbringing, so she wasn’t going to let herself whine about what might have been.
Once she’d kissed her nephew goodnight and gone downstairs, Becky shooed her and Jojo into the living room, and Jojo put a glass of wine into her hand.
‘Righty. Spill the beans,’ Jojo said.
‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ Anna said.
‘Interesting. Because you went to the Christmas fair in the park yesterday,’ Jojo said.
‘How do you know?’ Anna asked, surprised.
‘Because Gemma at work went, too, and she saw you.’ Jojo gave a dramatic pause. ‘Eating churros with a very nice-looking man, so she told me.’
‘Why didn’t she come and say hello, then?’ Anna asked.
‘Because it was obvious that you were on a date, and she didn’t want to interrupt you.’
Anna
