noted that the receptionist in the department for respiratory medicine directed him back downstairs again, when he identified himself as a consultant, sent by PHE. He would have to have a word with whoever was in charge here. Clearly no one had thought much about the logistics of having a potentially large number of clinic attendees walking from one end of the hospital to the other and then back again to find the place they were meant to be going.
He found the room number he’d been directed to at the end of a long, dingy corridor. Ignoring the ‘Please Knock and Wait’ sign taped to the door, he walked straight in, the door handle turning and then coming off in his hand.
She’d cut her hair.
Suddenly every thought, each one of his resolutions to sort this mess out, was blanked from his mind. There was nothing else other than the unexpected realisation that Thea had cut her beautiful hair.
For a moment she didn’t recognise him. That hurt even more than the corruption of the memory of Thea’s corn-coloured hair spread out like liquid sunshine.
‘Thea.’ He supposed he should say more, but right now that wasn’t an option.
‘Lucas.’ She seemed to be coping with the moment better than he was. Or perhaps that was just what he wanted to think. He was probably just a distant memory to her, and there was nothing for her to cope with.
She walked towards him, stretching out her hand, more self-possessed than she’d been seven years ago. Thea had clearly learned to conceal her feelings, and that was yet another loss. Seven years ago she would have either rushed to hug him or aimed a punch at him. Either would have been better than this.
‘My door handle.’
‘Oh … Yes.’ He dropped the handle into her palm, careful not to brush his fingers against hers.
‘Thank you.’ She turned away, as if that was the only thing that interested her about him, and picked up a screwdriver from the windowsill.
Lucas reminded himself what he’d come here to do, and where in the chain of command he intended to be. ‘I’m here to see Michael Freeman. He’s co-ordinating the TB response team.’
She nodded, slipping past him and kneeling in front of the open door. ‘No, I am. Put your foot there, will you?’
Lucas planted his foot against the door, holding it steady while she applied herself to screwing the handle back on again. ‘I’m the consultant from PHE.’
The words generally had some effect on people, but they barely seemed to register. She gave a brief nod and yanked brutally at the door handle to test that it was now securely fixed.
He had to stop this now. Thea didn’t seem to have any understanding of the gravity of the task ahead of them, and if she thought he was here to act as apprentice handyman it was time to disillusion her. ‘Isn’t there someone else who can do this? We both have more important issues to deal with.’
She looked up at him for a moment. Her eyes were the same, dark and thoughtful, eyes that you could lose yourself in. That he had lost himself in once, on a very regular basis. Right now a spark of fire, or maybe just a trick of the light, turned brown to gold.
‘I could walk upstairs, find a requisition form, and wait two days for someone from Maintenance to come and fix it. And if you were going to turn up unannounced, you could at least have read the notice on the door …’ She got to her feet and turned away from him again.
Annoyance gripped at his chest. Thea had never just walked away from him like that before, and it surprised Lucas that it was no easier to take now than it would have been seven years ago. The impulse to spin her round, take her off balance and kiss her rose from his heart to his head, and his head dismissed it out of hand.
The roaring in his ears began to subside and professionalism took over. This was just another situation that he had to get on top of, and he had never failed to win hearts and minds when he needed to. Lucas put his briefcase down at his feet and knocked gently on the open door. She took her time in turning to face him, but when she did a touch of humour was tugging at her mouth.
‘Dr Lucas West. I’m looking for the head of the TB response team.’
‘Dr Thea Coleman. You’ve come to the right place.’
They didn’t shake hands. It was probably best not to touch her just yet.
‘You look well, Thea.’ It was a pleasantry rather than a compliment. She seemed paler than he remembered her, and grey didn’t suit her as well as the vibrant colours she used to wear. Lucas pressed on. ‘Do you have some time to talk?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. Why don’t we go for coffee?’
He smiled at her. Thea had always been able to make him smile, even now. ‘That sounds good.’
One word had sounded at the back of her head, forming a long scream of disbelief. No-o-o.
It had taken every ounce of Thea’s self-control not to run from the room. Lucas had taught her how to love and had then left her. Seven years, several oceans, and a lot of water under the bridge later, here he was. His dark hair a little shorter, and definitely tidier. Wearing a suit, of all things.
A cold detachment, as if she’d taken a step back from the world and was no longer a part of it, came to her rescue. Someone else had taken the door handle from him and answered him back, while the real Thea had been shivering in a corner, screaming that this could not be happening.
‘How have you been?’ He followed her through the canteen and into the garden beyond, putting his coffee down on the bench between them.
‘Fine. You?’
He nodded. ‘Fine.’
That seemed to cover their personal lives for the past seven years. If he’d followed even a few of the dreams that he’d shared with her over the two years they’d been together, it was unlikely that his professional life had been as uneventful.
‘You have experience of dealing with TB abroad?’
Something tightened his face into a mask. ‘I didn’t go abroad. Things happened …’
He seemed disinclined to say what things could possibly have got in the way of what he’d considered his destiny. ‘I worked at a TB clinic in the UK for a while and now I consult. Better hours …’
He stopped short as Thea choked on her coffee. The Lucas she’d known hadn’t owned a suit and had cared nothing for regular hours.
‘Are you okay?’
He looked as if he was about to thump her on the back. ‘Yes, fine …’ Thea waved him away. ‘Where was the TB clinic?’
‘South London.’ He seemed to recognise the awkwardness of the admission and changed the subject quickly. ‘You’ve been working here since you qualified?’
‘No, three years.’ The other four were none of his business. Thea could practically feel herself retreating again behind the protective shell that she had learned to cloak herself with in the hard weeks before her return from Bangladesh. The Lucas that she’d known had been charming and unconventional, an idealist and
