the appendix is probably in a kidney dish somewhere, and they’re probably sewing him up even as we speak.’
Lydia dragged in a breath. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m…’ Her voice tailed off.
‘Worried sick. Of course you are, Lyd. Anyone would be. But they’ll ring you as soon as he’s in Recovery and he’s come round from the anaesthetic,’ Saskia soothed. ‘Look, do you want Toby and me to come over and sit with you while you’re waiting to hear?’
‘I’m just being wet,’ Lydia said, sounding embarrassed.
‘No. You’re missing Paul, you never sleep well when he’s away—and I bet the second you dropped off, last night, Madam woke you up because she’s teething. So you’re sleep-deprived and husband-deprived, not to mention probably hormonal.’ Helena, Lydia’s youngest child, was only five months old. ‘And we’re your best mates, so we’ll forgive you.’ She put her hand over the phone and looked at Toby. ‘Did you follow all that?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘I’ll get the fajitas “to go”. We’ll warm them up again when we get to Lyd’s.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll fill you in on the rest of it in the car.’ She took her hand off the phone again. ‘Lyd? We’re on our way.’
Five minutes later, they were on their way from Sheffield to the little Derbyshire village where Lydia lived. Toby stole a glance at the woman sitting in the passenger seat, who was making a list on her electronic organiser. Typical Saskia. Practical, organised everything and everyone, moved at the speed of light…He hadn’t been able to resist buying her a T-shirt for her birthday with ‘Superwoman’ emblazoned across it. In Latin. She’d loved it.
The problem was, he couldn’t get a certain picture out of his mind. Dr Saskia Hayward, wearing nothing but that T-shirt. And peeling it off…for him.
He fought to control himself. That was the other problem. Saskia made his knees weak: curvy, dark-haired, with grey eyes that could skewer you or soothe you, depending on her mood, and a mouth that would give any red-blooded man palpitations. But she didn’t feel the same way about him. As far as she was concerned, Toby Barker was the medical student she’d met thirteen years ago—a shy, nerdy, bespectacled boy who’d become one of her two best friends. And ‘best friend’ meant no touching. Well, not touching in the way he wanted to touch her. A casual arm around her shoulder, a hug or a kiss on the cheek was fine. Saskia was the tactile sort, so it was a kind of sweet torture. Enough to make him want more, yet not enough to satisfy.
As troubles always came in threes, that was the third thing. Saskia went through men at speed, too. They almost never lasted longer than two dates. And two dates wouldn’t be enough for Toby. Particularly as they’d mean he would be out of her life for good afterwards. At least being her best friend meant that he got to spend time with her.
All the same, he kept wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Well, actually, he knew what it was like to kiss her. He’d done it at a Christmas party two years ago, under the mistletoe. It had blown his mind. But then he’d seen the shock and horror in her face, so he’d started slurring his words and pretending he was drunk.
On sparkling mineral water.
But she’d accepted it, particularly as the next day he’d claimed he had a mammoth hangover and asked her to promise him that he hadn’t done anything really embarrassing or stupid at the party the previous night. To his relief, she hadn’t mentioned the kiss. So he’d got away with it. Just.
Though the kiss still haunted him. The softness of her skin. The way she tasted. And, oh, the way her mouth had opened under his. It wasn’t long until Christmas. The party season would start in a couple of weeks. All he had to do was make sure they went to one together, then manoeuvre her over to some mistletoe and—
‘Tobe, are you listening?’
‘No,’ he admitted. Not that he was going to tell her what he’d been thinking about. That was definitely something he needed to keep under wraps.
‘I said, Lyd’s fretting because she wants to see Paul. Until she can see for herself that he’s fine, she’ll be impossible. But no way can she take the kids with her. Apart from the fact that it’s a long-haul flight, you can’t expect a baby and a three-year-old to hang around a hospital all day and give Daddy lots of peace and quiet while he recovers from abdominal surgery.’
‘They probably haven’t arranged a passport for Helena yet, anyway,’ Toby said.
‘You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. She’s going to be caught right in the middle—wanting to be with Paul, but not wanting to leave the kids.’ Saskia sighed. ‘If she does go, she’ll need someone to hold the fort. Her parents are in New Zealand, visiting her sister—and Paul’s parents won’t be able to do it.’ Paul’s mother was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and they both knew it wasn’t fair to expect Paul’s father to look after his grandchildren and his wife. She drummed her fingers on her knees. ‘Which leaves me.’
‘Saskia, can I just remind you that you have a full-time job? You’re a senior registrar—you’ve been acting consultant since Jim’s been on sick leave, getting his hernia sorted. No way are you going to get a couple of weeks’ leave at this kind of short notice.’
‘I don’t need to. I’ll cope,’ she said airily.
That was stating the obvious. Saskia never saw problems, only solutions. She was a born coper. Give her ten seconds, and she’d have the whole thing planned out.
Toby began counting in his head. He got to three before she announced, ‘It’s easy. I’ll move into the cottage while Lyd’s away. I can drop the kids off at nursery before work, and pick them up at the end of the day.’
‘And when you’re on a late shift? Nurseries are open until six p.m. at the latest,’ he pointed out. ‘Actually, they don’t open until eight, so it doesn’t fit with early shift either. And even if you did manage by some miracle to get the kids into the hospital crèche until Lyd’s home again, it’s not fair to add another layer of disruption to their lives.’
‘I suppose so,’ she admitted, clearly unwillingly.
‘Look, Saskia, we all know you’re Superwoman, but you really can’t do your job, run Lyd’s house, as well as your own, and take over as a mum of two, all on your own.’ He waved her protest away. ‘It’s more than just being flung in at the deep end. If Lyd wants to go over to Paul and you take over the reins from her, you’re going to need help—preferably from someone who doesn’t work shifts, or at least someone who’s on an early when you’re on a late, so one of you can do the nursery run while the other’s at work.’
‘And your solution is?’
Typical Saskia. She expected people to follow her lead and come up with answers, not questions. Well, he was a match for her on that front. ‘I’ll help you.’
She frowned. ‘What do you know about kids?’
He tapped his index finger thoughtfully on the steering-wheel. ‘Hmm, let me see. I’m a paediatrician.’ Not to mention that he’d been a qualified doctor for three years longer than Saskia had. ‘Does that count?’
She snorted. ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. And working in Paeds isn’t the same as living with kids, is it?’
‘Says
