Mistletoe Proposal On The Children's Ward

‘All right,’ he said. ‘You’re on.’

‘Thank you. And you can start by texting me your menu choices for the ward’s Christmas meal over the weekend,’ she said. Though her smile wasn’t full of triumph; instead it was a mixture of relief and gratitude. ‘Maybe we can begin with something light and easy. There’s a Winter Festival in the park for the next three weeks—basically it’s a big Christmas market. Are you working on Sunday?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I’m on an early shift, so I’ll meet you at four o’clock by the park gates.’ She stopped outside a gate. ‘This is me. I’ll see you on Sunday. And thank you.’

‘See you on Sunday,’ he echoed.

CHAPTER THREE

FOUR NEW BRONCHIOLITIS CASES, Anna thought with a sigh on Sunday afternoon. This was peak season for the respiratory syncytial virus. In adults, it produced a spectacularly nasty cold, but in children it could be much more serious, gumming up the tiny tubes inside their lungs and making it hard for them to breathe.

Small babies often went on to develop pneumonia as a result, and Anna really felt for both her tiny patients and their parents, who were often exhausted with worry and shocked by the sight of their little ones on oxygen and being fed by a tube down their nose because the babies were too tired to suck milk from a breast or a bottle.

She finished writing up her notes, did a last check on the ward in case anyone needed emergency help before she left, then texted Jamie to let him know that she was leaving the hospital on time and would meet him at four.

Hopefully she could change his views on Christmas and take away its power to hurt him. She wasn’t going to pry and ask exactly why he hated Christmas so much, but it would be good to think that she could make life a bit better for him.

Anna the Fixer. Her whole family teased her about it, but she knew they appreciated what she did. Her own problem wasn’t fixable, but you couldn’t have everything. She was blessed with a wonderful family and good friends, and she’d just about forgiven Johnny for the way he’d thrown their marriage away, even though part of her still thought that there were ways round her infertility; they could’ve given IVF a try, or fostering or adoption. But Johnny had found the pressure and the worry too much to cope with, and he’d chosen someone who could give him what he wanted without the complications.

It was just a pity that he hadn’t ended their marriage before he’d found that someone else.

His betrayal had made everything feel so much worse; and for months after that Anna had felt herself not good enough for anyone. Especially when Johnny had sneered at her that nobody would want her because she wasn’t a real woman and couldn’t give a man the family he wanted. She knew it had probably been guilt talking, trying to justify the way he’d treated her; before she’d married him, if anyone had told her he’d ever be so cruel to her in the future she would have laughed, not believing it. She and Johnny had loved each other, and they’d been happy.

But her infertility had shattered his dreams as well as her own; the months and months of disappointment when they’d tried and failed to make a baby had made him bitter, and he just hadn’t been able to cope. In turn, that had made him feel less of a man, and the anger and guilt had spilled over into spite towards the person who was causing the problem in the first place.

It had taken a long time for Anna to get her bounce back after the split. As she’d said to Jamie earlier, she’d really had to fake it until she’d managed to make it. But she had made it, and she wasn’t going to let herself slip back into misery.

‘Don’t start whining and wanting things you can’t have, Anna Maskell,’ she told herself firmly. ‘You’re really lucky and your life is as perfect as it gets. You have a family you love and who loves you all the way back, you’re working in your dream job, and you have wonderful colleagues you get on really well with. You can afford to pay your rent and put food on the table. You’re healthy.’ Well, apart from one thing, but she wasn’t actually sick with it. Infertility had just changed her options, that was all. ‘You’re so much more fortunate than a lot of people. And with your working hours it wouldn’t be fair to have a dog, so George the Gorgeous Goldfish is enough for you.’

The line from the old song about the doggie in the window slid into her head. But it was pointless regretting that she couldn’t take George for a walk in the park. There were plenty of dogs in her family that she could go and cuddle, and children she could play with. She needed to count her blessings, not dwell on the things she couldn’t have.

As for dating again… She knew that not all men would think the same way that Johnny had, but she really didn’t want to get close to someone and lose her heart to him, only to find out that her infertility was a problem for him and he rejected her the same way that her husband had rejected her. Then again, how could you start any kind of relationship with someone by asking them if they wanted children? It just wasn’t appropriate, not at that stage. So it was easier just to duck the issue and keep everyone on a friends-only basis, rather than risk getting involved with someone she’d end up disappointing.

Jamie hadn’t actually replied to her text saying that she was on her way to meet him, and Anna felt slightly antsy as she headed towards the park. Would he be there? Or had he had time to think about it over the weekend and decide that he couldn’t handle any part of Christmas, after all?

He owed her nothing. They barely knew each other. If he didn’t turn up, it would be her own fault for trying to steamroller him into doing something he really didn’t want to do.

But she hoped that he’d let her at least try to help him.

When she reached the entrance to the park and saw him leaning against the metal railings, her heart gave a little skip. Which was completely inappropriate. They were meeting this afternoon simply as colleagues who were in the early stages of friendship; it was a kind of quid pro quo thing. If she could help him, then he would help her. This wasn’t a date date. Yes, he was gorgeous: tall and brooding, with those enormous cornflower-blue eyes, dark hair that she suspected would be outrageously curly if it wasn’t so short, and a full, sensual mouth. But he wasn’t dating her. Full stop.

Her heart gave another of those ridiculous little skips when Jamie saw her and lifted a hand in acknowledgement. Oh, for pity’s sake. She needed to get a grip.

‘Hey. Thanks for coming,’ she said as she reached him.

He inclined his head. ‘How was your day?’ he asked.

‘Full of babies with bronchiolitis. There’s a whole bay reserved just for our RSV-positive patients, poor little loves,’ she said. ‘Though I feel even sorrier for the parents.’

‘Because the babies can’t tell them how they feel, and they’re tired and not eating well, and the parents are feeling utterly helpless because they can’t do anything to make their babies feel better,’ he said.

‘That,’ she said before she could stop herself, ‘sounds like personal experience.’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Observation. I did my paediatrics rotation at this time of year, and I remember what it was like.’

But she knew she’d asked something a bit too personal. She’d better switch the subject back to work. ‘What made you become a surgeon?’ she asked.

‘I really enjoyed my surgical rotation,’ he said. ‘And I like working with children. Making a difference. How about you?’

‘It was a toss-up between obstetrics and paediatrics,’ she said. ‘Helping to bring a new life into the world—that’s so special and I loved every minute. And actually delivering a baby was so wonderful. But then I did my paediatrics rotation at Christmas, and that decided me. It’s where I feel I can make the most difference, so that’s why I chose the specialty.’ She smiled at him. ‘So. Shall we?’ She gestured to the park.

Jamie really didn’t want to do this.

But he’d had the best part of two days to come up with a reasonable excuse, and he hadn’t found one. Plus, part of him wanted to be able to handle Christmas again without making his family miserable. For the last three years, he’d chosen to work over the festive season rather than join in with the family celebrations, and he used work as an excuse not to see them very often in between.

He felt guilty for not spending time with them; but whenever he was with them, it was always so obvious how much they were trying hard not to say the wrong thing. He knew they worried about him, but he found it suffocating when they wrapped him in cotton wool. Being in a family situation reminded him so much of what he’d lost, and Christmas magnified it to the point where it was too much to handle. He knew he needed to make the effort. Just… This was going to be painful. Like picking at a scab. Bit by bit.

Facing Christmas.

The time of year he dreaded.

His doubts must’ve shown on his face, because she said gently, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

No. He wasn’t sure at all.

She took his hand and squeezed it briefly. ‘Look, we don’t have to walk around the Winter Festival. We can, I dunno, go back to the high street and grab something to eat, or get a takeaway and go back to mine to chill out with some old comedies on TV—and then you can meet George.’

‘George?’ That got his attention. He was sure Anna had said she didn’t have a partner. Or did she have a child? Was she a single mum? He hadn’t heard any rumours on the ward, but then again he always closed his ears to gossip. ‘Who’s George?’

‘George the Gorgeous Goldfish.’

He looked at her, not quite sure he’d heard that correctly. ‘George is your goldfish?’

‘Gorgeous goldfish,’ she corrected. ‘Yes.’

It was so incongruous that he couldn’t help smiling. ‘George the Gorgeous Goldfish,’ he repeated.

‘That’s right. Obviously it’s not quite like having a dog, because he doesn’t stick his chin on my knee and look up at me with big brown adoring eyes, and he doesn’t want to go for walks in the park or play ball. But I talk to him and he likes my singing.’

Singing to a goldfish.

That definitely wasn’t what he’d expected to hear her say.

It was so surreal that he found himself smiling and walking into the park with her.

And then somehow they were right in the middle of the Christmas fair, strolling up and down the path lined by little wooden pop-up shacks selling food, drink, Christmas decorations and every kind of gift you could think of, from candles to cosmetics to jewellery to hand-knitted Christmas jumpers. There were fairy lights draped over the roofs of the shacks, and garlands of greenery.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ she said, ‘because I’m ravenous. I didn’t get time for lunch.’

‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ he pointed out.

‘Which is too early for dinner, but I need a Christmas cookie and a hot chocolate right now to keep my blood sugar level.’ She grinned at him. ‘Which I admit is just a terrible excuse, because I love hot chocolate and cookies.’ She found a hot drink stall, tucked her arm into his and queued up. ‘This one’s on me,’ she said.

He accepted a coffee; she dithered about having extra cream on top of her hot chocolate, but then said, ‘No, because I’ll have another one later, laced with cream liqueur.’

Just how long did she intend to spend at the fair? he wondered, but didn’t ask.

Next was a cookie in the shape of a star, studded with chips of butterscotch. ‘Perfect,’ she said after the first bite. ‘You have to try this, Jamie.’ She broke off one of the arms of the star and handed it to him.

He had no real choice but to eat it.

When was the last time he’d eaten something and really tasted it, instead of it being simply fuel? This was delicious: buttery and sugary, zinging along his tastebuds. ‘It’s good,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘And now—shopping,’ she said. ‘I need some stocking-fillers.’

‘You’re not buying your Secret Santa present for the ward, are you?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already got that,’ she said. ‘Though you might find something here.’

‘But then you’ll know whose name I drew when they unwrap it,’ he pointed out.

‘True,’ she said. ‘OK. We’ll do this methodically. We’ll go all the way along each row and back up again, and then I’ll decide what I’m getting. I have four sisters-in-law.’

He blinked. ‘You’re one of five?’

‘The middle one,’ she said. ‘Two older brothers, a younger brother and a younger sister. All married, and all with children.’

Was it his imagination, or did a shadow just cross her face? He knew she wasn’t married and he was pretty sure she didn’t have children. But was that by choice?

‘And I got to be best woman at my sister Jojo’s wedding to Becky,’ she said with a smile. ‘Which was so cool. How about you?’

‘Youngest of three. Two older sisters,’ he said. ‘Both married with children.’

‘Being an aunt,’ she said, ‘is fabulous, because I get pictures drawn for me all the time and there’s always someone to play games with or read stories to or cuddle.’ She smiled. ‘We had the best family holiday ever, this summer—we all stayed at a villa in Tuscany, with Mum and Dad. And, even though we’ve got very different interests between us, we’ve also got enough in common to get on really well together. I know they always say the middle child is the peacemaker, but fortunately I don’t have to be.’

He’d guessed right from when he’d first met Anna that she was part of a huge family; she had that confidence about her, that surety of being loved by everyone and being able to talk to anyone. She clearly adored her family, and it made Jamie feel guilty for pushing his away. He did love his parents and his sisters and his nieces and nephews; but he hated how everyone seemed to alternately tread on eggshells around him or try to jolly him into moving on. So he’d reasoned that it was easier for everyone if he tucked himself out of the way and buried himself in work, and the distance between them seemed to stretch more with every day.

‘Uh-huh,’ he said.

‘So how old are your nieces and nephews?’ she asked.

‘Between six and ten,’ he said. And now he felt even more guilty. Anna was clearly a very hands-on aunt. Just as Hestia had been; she’d always been happy to play games with Josh, Caitlin, Dylan and Layla, and she’d had a stock of books about ballerinas that she’d read to all four of them, saying that ballet wasn’t just for girls. She’d even taught them all some steps, and the kids had loved putting on performances on family Sunday afternoons. She’d taken them to performances, too, and they’d all been spellbound by The Nutcracker. Especially when they’d seen their auntie Hestia dancing on the stage, pirouetting and leaping.

He’d been a hands-on uncle, too, back in those days. He’d read stories, built train tracks and done pretend tea parties with teddies. Hestia’s death had meant that the children had lost their uncle as well as their aunt, and he felt bad about that. For their sakes, he should’ve made more of an effort.

He’d start with Christmas, he decided. This Christmas.

He’d let Anna help him face Christmas again and get his family back; and in turn he’d help her by playing Father Christmas for the ward. OK, so he wasn’t ever going to get to the stage where he could open his heart to another partner, but he knew his family deserved much better than this. He needed to change. And he needed help to do it; on his own, he knew he’d just back away again because it was too hard to face.

‘Mine are a little bit younger—Will’s the oldest, at eight, and Ivy’s the baby. Literally, because she’s six months old next week,’ Anna said. ‘Mum and Dad managed to space us all two years apart, and it seems to be a tradition in my generation that you get to thirty and have a baby.’

Except for her? There was a definite shadow in her eyes now, Jamie thought, but it felt like prying to ask. He didn’t want to hurt her, not when she was being so kind and sweet.

She gave him a super-bright smile. ‘I’ve already bought and wrapped all their main presents so, as I said, I’m looking for stocking-fillers.’

‘You’ve already bought and wrapped everything? But it’s only November,’ he said.

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