The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance

I let out a breath that came out in a misty fog. ‘The man in question is a friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to work.’

Gracie was in the change room when I came in. ‘I can’t do this any more,’ she said. ‘It’s killing me. I’m so stilted with everyone. I have to keep watching what I say. Everyone thinks I’m cross with them or something.’

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Can’t you see that? It would be social suicide.’

‘Don’t you mean you won’t?’ Gracie’s look was accusing. ‘This isn’t just about you, you know. It’s about other people now. Me. Matt Bishop. Your friends and colleagues. The longer you keep this up the more hurt you’re going to cause.’

I shoved my things in the locker and closed the door. ‘I’m working on it, okay?’

‘Then work on it a little faster, will you?’ Gracie said, and stormed out.

Jill swivelled around from the computer when I came into the central office. ‘Can I have a quick word?’

‘Sure.’ I tried not to look at my postcard on the noticeboard. I was waiting for the opportunity to come in when no one was around and take it down.

‘What’s going on between you and Gracie?’

I felt my cheeks flare with heat. ‘Nothing. Why?’

She leaned forward and gave me a beady look. ‘Sure?’

I controlled every micro-expression on my face. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘I thought you must have had a squabble or something,’ Jill said. ‘She’s asked for her shifts to be changed so she’s not on when you’re on. Have you got an issue?’

‘No, of course not.’ I hated myself at that point. Truly hated myself. Gracie might be a relatively new friend but she was loyal and caring. I had dragged her into a nightmare of my own making and now she was doing everything she could to avoid me. It was an uncomfortable reminder of my childhood, where I would be standing alone on one side of the playground while the more popular girls were on the other. I wanted Gracie back on my side but I couldn’t do what she asked. I just couldn’t.

Jill was still watching me with a contemplative look. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with Matt Bishop, would it?’

I assembled my features into an expression of shocked affront. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘You two have a certain chemistry. Everyone’s commenting on it.’

‘So?’ I said. ‘I get on with most people. You do too. It doesn’t mean anything illicit is happening.’

‘You don’t seem happy for someone who’s just got married,’ Jill said. ‘You seem … preoccupied. Is everything all right between you and your husband?’

I clenched my hands instead of my teeth because that would be less audible. ‘What is this? Why is everyone so fascinated with my private life?’

Jill tapped her fingertips on her knees. ‘Bertie, this gossip that’s going around is not doing Matt any favours with the management team. The CEO is talking about terminating his contract.’

I frowned. ‘On what grounds? His private life is no one’s business!’

She gave me a worldly look. ‘You know how conservative the hospital management team is. They’re concerned about the image of the hospital.’

‘They should be concerned about the welfare of the patients and less with the private lives of their staff,’ I threw back.

‘I’m just saying—’

‘Haven’t people got better things to do than gossip?’ I said.

Jill let out a sigh and turned back to the computer.

I stared at her back for a moment. I trusted Gracie but I didn’t know Jill well enough to share my secret with her. I hated it that she thought I was a cheating wife but what else could I do? If I told her, I’d have to tell everyone. I wasn’t prepared to do that. I had a plan. I was going to activate it. There was a way around this. I would resign and find another placement. Problem solved.

‘I’m sorry, Jill, it’s just things are a little difficult for me right now. I’m finding it hard to settle back in after being on my … on leave.’

She tapped a few keys before turning around again. ‘Marriage is hard work. Just be careful, okay?’

I didn’t see Matt at work because I did everything in my power to avoid being seen by him or with him. Thankfully I had other duties that kept me out of ICU for most of the day. I finally left for home after some overtime in Theatre when Stuart’s list got blown out with a complication. I was walking out of the hospital when I saw Matt’s tall figure coming towards me. He must have been waiting for me to come through the front exit. I pretended not to notice him and kept my head down.

‘Bertie?’

‘Don’t draw attention to us,’ I said, out of the side of my mouth.

‘I thought I’d walk you home.’

‘Please, don’t,’ I said, huddling further into my coat.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Not here. There are CCTV cameras everywhere.’ I sounded completely paranoid. But, then, I was. Completely and utterly paranoid. Were the curtains twitching on every floor as staff and patients looked down at us or was I just imagining it?

Matt took me by the arm and turned me to face him. ‘Listen to me.’

I was overwrought with the stress of it all. Gracie, Jill, the thought of Matt losing his job over my stupidity. I looked into his eyes and saw what he was going to say before he said it. And there I’d been, thinking my mum was the only one who could read minds. ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘Bertie, you have to choose.’

‘Choose what?’ I pretended I didn’t know what he meant. But really I was just delaying the pain. I couldn’t have him and my secret. I had to make a choice.

His expression was gravely serious. ‘If we’re going to go somewhere with this relationship then you have to tell everyone the truth.’

‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in a relationship. You said you had other priorities.’

His eyes were implacable as they held mine. ‘I’m not going to lose my job because you’re too immature to face up to what you should’ve faced before Christmas.’ I glared at him. ‘That’s rich, coming from you! You took a whole year to get over what’s-her-name.’

His jaw tightened like a clamp. ‘We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.’

‘I’m going to put in my resignation,’ I said. ‘I’ll move to another hospital where no one knows about Andy. You and I can still see each other and no one will ever—’

‘Will you listen to yourself?’ he said, his eyes dark and glittering with disdain. ‘What are you, fourteen?’

I stiffened my spine. ‘Fine. I’ll accept your ultimatum.’

He shook his head at me. ‘Don’t do this, sweetheart.’

I put up my chin. ‘I’m not throwing my professional reputation away for a fling. I’m fine with it ending. I never wanted it in the first place.’

‘You’ve made lying into an art form,’ he said, with a cutting edge to his voice. ‘But when you get home and start lying to the person you’re looking at in the mirror, you’ll know you’re really in trouble.’

I was in trouble from the moment I laid eyes on him, but now was hardly the time to tell him. I was trying to salvage what was left of my pride. ‘It’s over, Matt. It was fun—or at least it was for you—while it lasted.’

‘I didn’t sleep with you to make fun of you,’ he said. ‘I slept with you because I …’ He stopped and shoved a hand through his hair.

I raised a cynically arched eyebrow. ‘Because you …?’

He dropped his hand. His mask was back in place. For a moment there I’d thought I’d seen a glimmer of pain in his gaze but it was well and truly gone now. I figured I’d probably imagined it. ‘Never mind.’

‘I have one question,’ I said. ‘Why did you ask me to take over the planning of the ball?’

He let out a long breath. ‘I thought it would help you get over your break-up. I thought it would give you something to distract you. But if you don’t want to follow through with it, I’ll find someone else.’

‘I’m sure it won’t take you too long to find a replacement,’ I shot back.

He gave me another I’m-over-this look and turned away and walked back through the front doors of the hospital.

I typed up my resignation that night and printed it out and signed it with a flourish. I looked at it for a long time before I folded it and slid it into an envelope. I left it lying on the desk—I don’t have any helpful housekeeping staff so there was no prospect of it being posted until I was ready to do so myself.

Jason’s parents asked to speak to me when I got to ICU the next day. They were waiting in my relatives’ room but I hadn’t had time to turn on the essential oil infuser as I’d been caught up on the ward. Ken Ryder was holding his wife, Maggie’s, hand. Megan was still by Jason’s bedside. I’d caught a glimpse of her on my way past, crying as she held one of his hands.

‘We want the truth,’ Ken said. ‘Mr McTaggart is saying one thing. Dr Bishop is saying another. We want your opinion. What’s our son’s prognosis?’

I looked at their haggard faces, their drawn and tired features. The shadows, in and under their eyes, and the lines on their faces that had seemed to deepen like trenches by the end of each long, heartbreaking day. I took a deep breath, feeling as if I was stepping out of a part of my personality like someone taking off a warm, thick coat. I felt exposed and vulnerable without it but I could no longer hide beneath its comforting folds. ‘There’s a very real possibility Jason will never recover.’

Saying the words felt like speaking a different language, one without hope as part of its vocabulary. I watched as Jason’s parents took them in. It wasn’t the first time they’d heard them but hearing it from me—the one person who had offered them hope and positive thinking from the get-go—was clearly devastating.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, blinking back tears. I never cried at work. I was always so self-contained but I could no longer keep that professional distance. In that small, private room I became Bertie instead of Dr Clark. I hugged Jason’s parents and offered what comfort I could but it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough because I could not—no matter how hard I tried—bring back their boy.

Jem had a student-free day that coincided with my next day off so she met me in Knightsbridge for lunch in one of our favourite haunts. ‘So, what gives?’ she said, when she noticed I wasn’t eating my steak with any of my usual gusto.

I stabbed a French fry but didn’t bring it up to my mouth. ‘Don’t want to talk about it.’

Jem reached over and pinched one of my fries. She had already finished all hers. She has this amazing ability to eat loads of food without putting on an ounce. I should hate her for it. ‘You’re in love with him.’

I pulled back my chin against my chest. ‘With Andy?’

‘No, you goose,’ she said. ‘With this Matt guy.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve only known him, what, three and a half weeks? That’s not long enough to fall in love.’

‘Don’t bet on it.’

I raised my brows. ‘The Sicilian guy?’

Jem got that stony, closed-off look on her face. ‘We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.’

Why are all the people in my life saying the same thing? I wondered. ‘Everyone is talking about me. Or at least they will be when my resignation hits the HR department tomorrow.’

Jem frowned. ‘You’re resigning?’

‘What else can I do?’

She gave me one of her big-sister, older-and-wiser looks. ‘What about your project?’

‘I’ve got enough data to go on with and once I get a new placement I’ll set it up again.’ Even as I said it I realised how difficult it would be. I had developed a high level of trust at St Iggy’s, which was why Jeffrey Hooper had allowed me to be so innovative. I might not find the same enthusiasm in another hospital.

Jem filched another fry. ‘What about the St Valentine’s ball? Aren’t you the one organising that?’

I felt a twinge of guilt at how I’d walked away from my responsibilities. I’d heard Matt had found someone to take over—a nurse from the cardiac unit. I wondered with another pang if he was seeing her outside work. ‘I was but it’s been handed to someone else. I can do without the stress on top of everything else. Anyway, I haven’t got a costume.’

‘You could always go as yourself.’

I gave her a droll look. ‘Ha, ha.’

‘What about your neighbours?’ Jem wiped her fingers on her napkin. ‘You’re not thinking of moving too, are you?’

I was ashamed to admit I was. I was even thinking about emigrating. No one would be able to gossip about me then. Siberia should just about do it, I thought. ‘None of them are talking to me. Clearly Margery’s been busy.’

Jem leaned across the table and patted my hand. ‘Never mind. At least she won’t be asking you to mind her horrible little dog any more.’

‘Like she should throw the first stone,’ I said. ‘Her Freddy humps anything that’s—’ I stopped speaking when I saw the colour leave Jem’s face. She was looking at the entrance of the restaurant, her eyes widening with horror. ‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

She grabbed the bill the waitress had left moments earlier and thrust it at me. ‘Do you mind getting this? I’ll meet you in Harrods at the chocolate counter.’

‘But—’

I frowned as I watched her slip out the back way through the kitchen. Then I turned and looked at the tall, stunningly handsome Italian man walking in with a beautiful blonde woman by his side.

It seemed I wasn’t the only coward in the family after all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MY RESIGNATION CAUSED quite a stir amongst the staff when I came in the day after it had been lodged. I had to dodge a few twisty questions, including one about whether I was pregnant. Gracie kept giving me looks I stubbornly refused to acknowledge. It was all right lecturing me about telling the truth but she wasn’t the one who’d have had to live down the ignominy of pretending to be married. It was easier this way. I was making a new start and in a few months no one would even remember me.

My heart gave a painful squeeze when I walked past Matt’s office. I hadn’t seen him other than in passing since our conversation in the car park. I wondered if he was feeling even half the distress I was. The thought of not seeing him again was like leaving a part of myself behind. A part I’d only just discovered. I hadn’t realised I was in love with him until I’d lost him. I guess it had crept up on me. Each kiss, each touch, each time we’d made love a bit more of my heart had been won over.

But if he loved me then surely he wouldn’t have made me choose. It was his reputation he was most concerned about, not me. It proved what a fool I’d been to allow our relationship to get to that stage. Hadn’t he said from the start he had other priorities right now? I had foolishly agreed to getting involved and now I was paying the price.

But if he’d only wanted a casual fling why had he revealed so much to me about his past? It wasn’t just the red-hot passion I longed for in a relationship. It was that wonderful sense of intimacy, of being able to talk about painful things without fear of judgement or lack of interest. Matt had opened up to me in the same way I had opened up to him. Why, then, had he made me choose? It wasn’t fair to push me. To blackmail me.

I was getting my things out of the central office on my last day when Jill came in with a bundle of files to be entered into the computer. ‘I can’t believe you’re not coming to the ball,’ she said. ‘Why not use it as a send-off? We haven’t had time to do a drinks thing for you or anything.’

‘I don’t want any fuss,’ I said, eyeing that wretched postcard. If only I could get it off that board then maybe my life would magically return to normal, or whatever normal for me was.

‘This all seems rather sudden,’ Jill said. ‘Did the CEO pressure you to leave or something?’

‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘It was my decision.’

She eyed me doubtfully for a moment. ‘It won’t be the same here without you, Bertie. You’ve brought a lot of fun to the department. Even Stuart is saying how much he’s going to miss you. And Prof Cleary. Do you know what he said? He said you’re like a bright red poppy in a field of oats.’

I blinked back a sting of tears. ‘That was sweet of him.’

There was a short silence.

‘You weren’t really having an affair with Matt Bishop, were you?’ Jill asked.

I couldn’t hold her look and turned to the noticeboard and unpinned the postcard. ‘You don’t mind if I take this?’

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘It’ll just get thrown out. You might as well keep it for sentimental value.’

I pasted a tight smile on my face. ‘That’s what I thought.’

I felt like Cinderella on the night of the ball, except I didn’t have two ugly stepsisters and a horrid stepmother keeping me away. I was keeping myself away. I watched as the clock ticked towards midnight. I imagined all the guests arriving, walking up the red carpet, couples arm in arm. My stomach clenched at the thought of Matt arriving with some gorgeous date on his arm. I thought of him dancing with her, his arms around her as I’d dreamed of his around me. I hadn’t even had the chance to see if we could actually dance.

But if our lovemaking was anything to go by, I thought we would’ve had a chance to be that couple on the dance floor. You know, the couple you see at weddings or functions who look like they’ve just come off a reality dance show, their movements together so beautifully synchronised it was spellbinding to watch. I wanted us to be that couple. We were a great team at work. We balanced each other out. Matt’s cold, hard science needed softening with my more feelings-based intuition. We were like a perfect cocktail. The flavours by themselves weren’t too flash, but put them together and, wham. What a knockout combination.

I looked at the clock again. The ball didn’t end until one a.m. If I got my skates on I would have just enough time to poke my head in the door to see if everything had gone according to plan. I was deeply ashamed at not following through with my commitment. People had been relying on me and I’d walked off the job. What if not enough money was raised, or what if there was some last-minute hitch and I wasn’t there to sort it out? Since when had I become a quitter? I still had my ticket and I had a choice of costumes from previous fancy-dress parties. It was a choice between Princess Fiona from Shrek or Kermit the Frog.

I didn’t fancy being either so I decided to do what Jem had suggested. I pulled out a nineteen-fifties ball gown I’d bought for twenty pounds in a charity shop a few years ago. I’d never worn it in public because I’d always thought it was too glamorous for me. But when I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror it was like looking at myself for the first time.

I put my hair up and put on a bit of make-up. I spritzed myself with perfume and picked up a little drawstring evening purse that matched the white organza of my gown. Actually, it wasn’t really white any more. It was more of an off-white, leaning towards yellowed with age, and it had a couple of moth holes in the flared skirt, but I was hoping no one would notice that. I slipped on some heels and prayed my toes would forgive me for the ensuing torture.

I called a cab—there weren’t any pumpkin coaches on duty that night—and went to the hotel.

The ball was in full swing when I slipped in to stand by one of the red-rose arrangements with heart-shaped helium balloons sticking out of it. The dance floor was full of dancers in a variety of costumes. Some had taken the fun aspect of the night to extremes but there was a nice sprinkling of elegance amongst the frivolity.

I saw Matt dancing with one of the nurses from A and E. My heart gave a painful spasm as I saw his hand in the small of her back as they waltzed around the dance floor. They looked so good together. Not quite as good as a couple from a dance show … in fact, I thought I saw Matt tread on her toe at one point but that could’ve been my wishful thinking in overdrive. But then, as if he had a sixth sense, he suddenly stopped dancing and said something to his partner. She nodded and slipped away to dance with someone else.

Then he turned and met my gaze across the crowded room.

I know it sounds like a cliché but I felt my heart come to a standstill. Tears sprouted in my eyes as he came towards me. He was dressed in an old-style tuxedo with a red rosebud pinned to his lapel—no silly cartoon or superhero characters for him. He took my evening-gloved hands in his. ‘So Cinderella made it after all,’ he said.

‘Yes … a close call but so far my glass slippers are intact.’

‘Dance with me?’

He didn’t give me time to say yay or nay. Suddenly I was in his arms and we were moving around the dance floor. Yes, you guessed it. Just like one of those couples. In fact, we were so good everyone else stopped dancing to look at us. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t realised there were two reasons they were staring. One: we were pretty fantastic together. Two: I was still pretending to be married to someone else.

It was exactly five minutes to midnight.

I stopped dancing and slipped out of Matt’s hold. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ I said. ‘There’s something I have to do.’

Everyone was still standing on the perimeter of the dance floor as I walked over to the podium, where a microphone had been positioned for the fundraising auction that had been conducted earlier. I waited for the musicians to stop playing the last bars of their song and then I took a deep breath. ‘Hi,’ I said, waving to all of the familiar faces and the not-so-familiar ones.

‘For those of you who don’t know, I’m Bertie Clark.’ I felt like someone at a support group owning up to some sort of vice. ‘There’s something I have to confess. I’m not really married. I was jilted the night before the wedding. I didn’t mean to send that postcard. That sort of happened by accident. I’ve been pretending ever since. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused. It was stupid and immature and I’m terribly, unreservedly, unequivocally sorry.’ I thought I’d better stop there. I was starting to sound like a thesaurus.

There was a moment of stunned silence and then everyone gave me a round of applause as they started to surge forward on the dance floor. I felt like a rock star at a concert. I wondered if I should take a bow or do an encore or something. It was almost worth all the angst of the last few weeks to be the centre of attention in such a celebratory way. Almost.

I saw Matt carve his way through the crowd towards me. I stepped down off the podium and straight into his open arms. ‘So proud of you, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘So very proud.’

‘This doesn’t mean I’m coming back to work at St Iggy’s,’ I said.

‘That’s a shame as there’s a patient who’s pretty keen to see you,’ he said, with an excited twinkle in his blue-grey eyes.

Something lifted inside my chest like a sudden updraught of air. ‘Jason’s awake?’

Matt grinned. ‘I got a call from the registrar half an hour ago. Megan was reading Chicken Little to him and he opened his eyes and spoke a couple of words.’

I threw my arms around him and danced up and down on the spot. ‘That’s the best news! I’m so thrilled for him, for all of them.’

Matt swung me around in his arms so high that my dress ballooned out in an organza circle. I was glad I’d put on my best knickers as everyone was probably getting a good eyeful of them. ‘I swore I would never do this in public, but will you marry me?’ he said.

I hadn’t realised until that point the ballroom was completely and utterly quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. Or maybe that was my jaw hitting the floor. I blinked and opened and shut my mouth a couple of times. ‘What did you say?’

He smiled that dancing smile that always made my insides turn over. ‘I know it’s too early to be proposing. How long’s it been, four weeks? But I don’t see the point in wasting months and years waiting to ask you. I love you. I fell in love with you that first day in my office when you stood up to me with your beautiful brown eyes flashing.’