More Than Time

He was asleep, his head propped on his arms, sprawled across her rota. He had taken off his jacket, and his shirt pulled and eased with the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad shoulders. The sun gleamed on the soft, thick mass of silver hair, turning it to pale gold. It looked impossibly soft. Lizzi wondered how it would feel in her fingers. She felt a strange, primitive urge to nurture and protect—but not maternally. Oh, no. There was nothing maternal in her feelings, and she drew in her breath sharply.

She hadn’t felt like this for years, not since—not for years. She put the tray down with a tiny clatter, and he stirred and sat up.

‘Sorry.’ His voice was gruff, sleep-roughened. He ran his fingers through his hair and her fingers ached with jealousy. The elemental urge strengthened.

Grasping the coffee-cup, Lizzi filled it and set it down in front of him, her hands trembling slightly.

‘Black or white?’ Damn, why did her voice sound breathless?

‘Black, I think. Thank you.’

‘Toast?’ That was better. Her voice was her own again.

‘Lovely. Do you spoil all the doctors like this, or are you just taking pity on me?’

She blushed and busied herself with her own cup. He was right. Normally she would have sent them off to the canteen rather than let them raid the ward provisions. Sometimes when they were very rushed Oliver would grab a sandwich, but waiting on them? With a tray? What was she thinking about?

She knew perfectly well what she was thinking about, and she blushed again as he caught her eye. She struggled for a neutral topic.

‘Oliver told me you’d had a hectic weekend.’

He chuckled. ‘Is that what you call it? I picked the boys up from school in Norfolk on Friday and took them back to their mother in Edinburgh on Saturday, then back down yesterday.’

‘Your wife’s in Edinburgh?’ Lizzi asked, surprised—as much as anything at herself. She never, never asked personal questions—or answered them, come to that!

‘My ex-wife. Her husband’s a GP. She works part-time in the practice.’

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry——’

He waved the toast dismissively. That’s OK. It’s public knowledge. What about you?’

‘Me?’ Her voice rose, and she made an effort to bring it down. ‘What about me?’

His mouth curved appealingly. ‘Are you married? Engaged? Entangled?’

She swallowed, ‘I——’

The phone rang, its warble loud in the sudden silence.

‘Sister Lovejoy here. Oh, hello, Bron.’

As she dealt with the details of the new admission, Lizzi was aware of Ross’s eyes on her as he munched his way through the toast.

When she put the phone down, he asked the question again.

She stood up, straightening her skirt with a tug. ‘Mr Hamilton, I make it a point not to discuss my personal life or anybody else’s with anyone at work. I’m afraid I can’t see the relevance.’

She swept out of the room, collared the young houseman and instructed him to clerk the new admission coming up from A and E.

‘Acute appendix, man of twenty-four. We’ll put him in Bay One.’

For the next twenty minutes or so she supervised the admission of the new patient, training a student in the preparation of the charts and the taking of the first TPR and BP readings, the notice over the bed which read ‘Nil by Mouth’, the urine sample to be obtained if possible and the tests to be done on it, the checking of valuables and other possessions and so on down the endless list, while the houseman obtained the relevant medical information.

She had seen Oliver come on to the ward a few minutes earlier, and so she headed back to her office to find out whose list the patient would be put on. As she approached the door quietly in her soft-soled shoes, she heard Ross’s deep voice murmer a question, and then Oliver chuckled.

‘Lizzi? You’ve got to be joking! The junior staff call her the Ice Maiden—that or Sister Killjoy.’

‘She’s not that bad, surely?’

Oliver laughed again. ‘Save yourself the effort, Ross. You’d need a PhD in cryogenics to thaw our Lizzi. She doesn’t play—not ever, not with anyone!’

Ross laughed, soft and very masculine, and murmured something else that Lizzi couldn’t quite hear. She heard Oliver’s reply, though, and it chilled her.

‘Nobody knows. She wears a wedding-ring on a chain round her neck, but whether he’s dead or gone AWOL nobody knows. She may not even have been married. It could be her grandmother’s ring or something. She hasn’t ever mentioned anyone, though. Forget it, Ross. If it’s recreational sex you’re after, you need look no further than that young scrub nurse in Theatre with us last night—given a chance she’ll be all over you like a rash——’

Lizzi had had enough. She swept into the room, clicked the door shut behind her and glared at them both.

‘How dare you both discuss me behind my back? That is exactly the reason I tell no one anything! And as for your locker-room comments about recreational sex—what kind of a reputation do you think you’re giving the medical profession? You’re behaving like a couple of medical students! Now get out of my office so I can get some work done!’

As they stood up, looking severely chastened, Lizzi remembered the reason for her mission. Oliver, your wife has just admitted a patient for appendicectomy. Whose list is he going on?’

‘Mine. I came up to see him. Where is he?’

She glared at Oliver, her eyes furious. ‘In Bay One. Dr Haig is with him.’

‘Lizzi, I’m sorry——’

‘So you should be!’ She slapped the case file into his hands.

With a shrug, Oliver left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Ross picked up his jacket and hooked it over his shoulder on one finger, running the other hand through his hair.

‘Lizzi, I’m sorry, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have asked him about you, but I was curious——’

‘How dare you pry into my life? It is private—I won’t be discussed like some tacky pin-up just to satisfy your idle curiosity!’

Lizzi realised that she was flushed, her fists clenched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her anger got the better of her. Forcing her hands to relax, she struggled for control of her temper and met Ross’s eyes challengingly. His lips firmed, and his eyes flashed angrily for a second, and then another emotion flared, just as strong but somehow more shocking, and Lizzi had to turn away.

She held her breath as his almost silent footsteps took him to the door, then he paused.

Thank you for the toast and coffee. It’s a long time since a beautiful woman’s cooked my breakfast—and, for the record, my curiosity wasn’t idle. I had every intention of acting on it.’

He left her rooted to the spot, speechless.

CHAPTER TWO

LIZZI had forgotten about her bump in the car park. By the time she got back to her car at the end of the day, the relentless routine of the busy surgical unit had driven everything else out of her mind. Now, though, she was reminded that there could be a nasty confrontation ahead later that night, and she sighed.

The confrontation wouldn’t be improved, she realised, by the fact that the offending car had also been wheel-clamped by the ground staff. She was surprised that it was still here. She was torn between smug self-satisfaction and pity, but her urge to take the note off the windscreen was snookered by the fact that it was already missing.

Perhaps the owner had been back already and was now trying to find a porter to release the wheel-clamp? Anxious to avoid a physical battle with the seething driver, Lizzi made her escape and drove home.

The bungalow was silent, with the sort of silence that meant emptiness. Her mother was out—Lizzi remembered that it was her watercolour class that afternoon, and she always went back to her friend’s house for the evening afterwards. Lizzi would be alone all evening, and in her present mood it was probably for the best.

She felt restless, disorientated and unaccountably depressed. No, not unaccountably, she thought bitterly. Michael Holden, the irresponsible young drunk driver, was largely to blame. Did Ross really believe she thought he had got his just deserts? Was she really so hard? Or just too vulnerable? It didn’t matter. There was nothing she could do to change things.

Lizzi went along to her bedroom and undressed, pulling on clean jeans and a soft sweater the same colour as her eyes. As she sat at the dressing-table to brush out her hair, her eyes strayed to the photo in the silver frame propped up beside the mirror.

A young man with laughing eyes looked out at her, his carefree smile showing a row of even white teeth. One of the top ones was chipped slightly—Lizzi remembered how he had come back from a rugby match with a swollen lip and she had chided him gently while she put ice on it.

Suddenly her eyes filled and she picked up the photo and held it to her chest as the tears spilt down her cheeks.

‘Why did you leave me? I’m lonely now,’ she whispered. She bit her lip and fought down the sobs. ‘They call me the Ice Maiden, David. But I’m not really, am I? Why can’t they just leave me alone?’

She rested her cheek against the cold glass, and gradually the tears slowed and stopped.

She put the picture back, rubbing the tearstains off the glass with her sleeve as she did so, then she blew her nose, wiped her eyes and went into the kitchen to cook herself something light for supper.

There was nothing on television, and the book she picked up couldn’t hold her attention. She lit the gas fire to ward off the chill, and curled up on the settee with her feet tucked under her bottom. She felt cold inside, filled with a sort of dread that she couldn’t place. Was it because she was waiting for the phone call from the irate driver of the Daimler, or was it because tomorrow she had to go back and face Ross and Oliver after her fit of temper? However justified, her harsh words didn’t make for a happy ward.

With a deep sigh she wriggled further down the settee, propping her chin on her hand and staring into the hissing fire. Her mother wouldn’t be back for hours, and she really couldn’t justify going to bed at six-thirty!

Anyway, when her mother got back she would need help to prepare for bed, so there was no point.

Suddenly Lizzi realised just how blank and empty her life was. The reason she never talked about it at work was that there genuinely was nothing to talk about. By not talking about it, she was hiding that nothingness—from herself as well as her colleagues. True, she had her mother, and she was needed in her way, but all the normal things that people of her age took for granted were missing from her life. Her time was reasonably full, but her heart was empty. No man, no social life, no children—angrily she dashed aside the tears and stood up. No point in sitting moping.

She got out the vacuum cleaner and started attacking the carpets—anything rather than allow the wallowing self-pity that had been creeping up on her.

When she turned off the vacuum cleaner she realised that the phone was ringing, and she snatched it up just as the caller hung up.

Damn. Now the waiting would start all over again.

She put the vacuum cleaner away and dropped disconsolately back on to the settee. Forcing herself to submit to discipline, she picked up her book again and made herself read four pages before she went out to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

The ringing phone held her transfixed for a second or two, and then she lifted the receiver and gave the number automatically.

‘Lizzi? It’s Ross Hamilton.’

‘Ross!’ She was startled, her surprise showing in her voice. What on earth did he want? And another, more pressing question presented itself. ‘How did you get my number?’

He laughed, a low, mirthless chuckle. ‘Easy. You left it on my windscreen.’

She must be mad, she thought for the thousandth time. Surely they could have found a time and a place at the hospital to discuss this? Why had she suggested that he should come here? What if her mother came home early? She would never let Lizzi forget it! Oh, God!

She stomped around, bashing cushions and straightening pictures, tidying the already immaculately tidy bungalow until the doorbell rang, almost savage in the silence.

She practically leapt out of her skin, and then had to pause and steady herself before going to the door.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and smoothed them over her hair. Why was it so unruly? And why was she so thoroughly unsettled and agitated?

When she opened the door, Ross was standing in the porch, his hands thrust into the pockets of his duffle coat, a white sweater in stark contrast to the tanned skin of his throat. He looked disturbingly male, and Lizzi panicked into overdrive.

‘Come in. Ross, I’m sorry, the note was unnecessary, I wanted to take it off the windscreen but it was gone when I came out. Let me take your coat. Can I get you a drink? What would you like, tea or coffee, or something stronger? Come on through.’ God preserve me, I’m babbling like an imbecile! she thought, and bit her lips.

‘Lizzi.’ His voice behind her was full of quiet authority, and she stopped, her head bowed, and waited for the axe to fall. ‘Relax. I’m not angry with you.’

She spun round, her eyes wide with amazement. ‘But your lovely car——!’

He shrugged. ‘It can be mended—though how you managed to wreck all four panels on that side is a mystery to me. I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose, so we’ll just hand it over to the insurance companies and let them fight it out.’

‘How can you be so calm? I realised after I’d spoken to you—Oliver said something earlier—it’s brand new, isn’t it? You must be livid!’

He chuckled. ‘I vented most of my spleen in the porters’ lodge!’

‘Of course—your wheelclamp!’ Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the grin, but he saw it and glowered at her.

‘Gloating, Lizzi?’

She moved away from him, her amusement gone. ‘No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—it was just the irony—Ross, I——’

‘Lizzi?’ His voice was deep, gentle. He cupped her shoulders in his hands and drew her nearer towards him. ‘I was only teasing. Don’t be afraid of me.’

She looked up and met his eyes, then looked away again. ‘I’m not,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m just not used to inviting men back to my house. It threw me for a minute.’

She could feel his eyes on her, studying her thoughtfully.

‘Would you rather we did this another time? Perhaps at the hospital?’

‘That would be silly,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, you’re here now.’

‘It needn’t take long, then I’ll go, if I’m making you uncomfortable. Is it because of this morning?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I’m sorry about that, too. I haven’t really given you a very warm welcome to the hospital, what with one thing and another.’

He laughed. ‘At least it’s going to be memorable!’

She tried to smile, but failed. ‘We haven’t really got off to a good start, have we?’

‘No. No, we haven’t, and at least part of that is my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Oliver——’

‘Then why did you?’ Her question was short, harsher than she had intended, but his reply was quiet, sincere, softly voiced.

‘Because I wanted to know about you. You seem so aloof, but I know you’re not. No one who can blush like you did is aloof—far less an ice maiden.’

She blushed again under his gently teasing regard, and eased out of his grip. ‘I’m not available, Ross. Not for—what was it Oliver called it? Recreational sex?’

He laughed softly. ‘He didn’t imply that you were—or that I was seriously in the market for anything so tasteless.’

Lizzi felt unaccountably relieved. ‘Was she?’

He frowned. ‘Was who what?’

‘The girl who was all over you like a rash—was she in the market for it?’

His face cleared, and his mouth lifted in the now familiar lop-sided smile. ‘I didn’t even notice, to be honest. Sorry to disappoint you.’

Her relief escalated to full-blooded optimism, and she treated him to a broad smile that lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle.

Oh, I’m not disappointed,’ she assured him.

Ross’s smile widened. ‘Good. How about that coffee before we sort out this paperwork?’

Lizzi’s face dropped. She had forgotten why he was here, and she was carrying on like a lovesick teenager!

She led him into the kitchen and they made coffee and then, sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged information about the accident, both making all the necessary notes for the claim form.

Then when all the business was completed he pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘I’ll get out of your hair now.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to go! Have another coffee or something—I didn’t even ask if you’d eaten!’

He grinned. ‘I have, thank you, but if it won’t offend you I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. I’m dying to get to bed. Sunday morning seems a long time ago.’

Filled with remorse, Lizzi retreated into herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘I’d forgotten you’d had such a dreadful night. Of course you must be exhausted. I don’t know what I was thinking about asking you to come here this evening.’

‘I’ll survive. Anyway, it was a good excuse to see where you live—another piece of the jigsaw that’s Lizzi Lovejoy. I intend to unravel you, you know!’

She followed him numbly to the door. She was feeling distinctly unravelled already!

He shrugged into his duffle coat and opened the door, then he turned and dropped a light kiss on her lips just as a car swept into the drive.

He raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

‘My mother,’ Lizzi explained, wondering how she would ever get away with that innocent kiss—not that it had felt innocent. Her lips were still tingling from the explosion of sensation that had occurred as his lips brushed hers, and she felt rocked off her feet. She just hoped her mother hadn’t seen, because she didn’t feel up to the lengthy evasions that would be necessary. In fact, she rather hoped he would go, but of course he couldn’t because his car was blocked in and she was stuck with him at least until her mother was over the threshold!

Td like to meet her,’ Ross murmured.

‘Good, because there’s no way we can avoid it,’ Lizzi muttered under her breath.

He had acute hearing, if the chuckle that came from him was to be relied on.

She glanced at him. Six foot three, and fit as a fiddle, even if he was tired.

‘Come on, then,’ she said, ‘you can make yourself useful getting her out of the car. She’s disabled.’

Ross walked with her to the car, where Lizzi performed the briefest of introductions, and Ross lifted her mother easily out into her wheelchair.

‘Don’t forget to think about it, Mary!’ the driver called.

Lizzi’s mother smiled mischievously. Oh, I will, dear. Good night, and thank you so much.’

They watched the car out of the drive, then Ross wheeled the chair easily to the door and over the slight step.

Thank you, dear,’ she said as the front door closed behind them again. ‘Now, who did you say you were?’

‘Ross Hamilton—I’m working with Lizzi at the hospital. I started today.’

‘How nice. I thought I hadn’t heard your name. Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Dr Hamilton.’

‘Mr, Mum. He’s a surgeon.’

‘How silly that is. Fancy going to all that trouble just to deny your qualifications!’

Ross laughed. ‘I quite agree, Mrs Lovejoy.’

There was sudden silence, then Lizzi’s mother looked at him quizzically. ‘I’m Mary Reed, actually. Lovejoy was Lizzi’s married name. It used to suit her, too.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, well, all water under the bridge. Stop glaring at me, darling. Why are we all congregating in the hall?’

‘Ross was just leaving. He had a busy night in Theatre.’

‘What a pity. Still, it’s lovely to meet you, Ross. I hope we’ll be seeing you again?’

‘I hope so too, Mrs Reed,’ Ross said with his lopsided smile.

‘It’s so nice that you and Lizzi have made friends so soon——’

‘This isn’t a social call, Mum,’ Lizzi cut in, her embarrassment running at full strength. ‘I hit his car this morning in the car park—we were just sorting out the insurance details.’

‘Oh, dear! What a shame—is it that very nice car on the drive?’

‘Yes—and it’s extremely new,’ Lizzi commented drily. ‘In fact, I couldn’t have targeted a worse thing to hit.’

He chuckled. ‘Let’s say your daughter’s car has unerring good taste, Mrs Reed.’ Lizzi opened the door, and he bade Mrs Reed goodnight and followed her squirming daughter out.

‘Well, Mrs Lovejoy,’ Ross murmured, ‘another piece in the puzzle. Will you tell me, or do I have to guess?’

‘I’m a widow,’ she said quietly.

‘And your husband was killed by a drunk driver.’

She gasped. ‘How did you know?’

His smile was full of compassion. ‘I didn’t, but it doesn’t take a great deal of intuition to guess. Was it long ago?’

‘Seven years.’

‘That’s when I got divorced. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and sometimes it seems forever. I expect you feel the same.’

‘You can hardly compare the two,’ she said stiffly.

‘Why?’

‘I hardly think that the grief of bereavement ranks in the same league as walking out on your wife.’

He snorted. ‘You’re prejudging me, Lizzi. My wife walked out on me, and took my two sons, aged six and four. I grieved, all right. I’ll grant you it’s not the same, but it’s pretty damn traumatic, nevertheless.’

But Lizzi was cornered, and she wasn’t in the mood to be conciliatory. ‘At least you know she’s still alive, walking around in the world. If you loved her, that would be enough—anyway, there’s no smoke,’ she muttered, and Ross sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

Oh, yes, I know she’s alive—alive and well and in another man’s bed. That takes some getting used to, Lizzi. I dare say I was at fault too, but no more than any other junior hospital doctor struggling to establish a career. At least your husband left you reluctantly, without destroying your belief in yourself as a lovable human being! Hell, I’m too tired for this. We’ll argue about it another time. Thank you for the coffee.’

With that he was gone, and she let herself back inside. Her legs were trembling slightly, and she felt shaken and upset.

It wasn’t improved by finding her mother waiting for her in the kitchen.

Lizzi sighed. Here we go, she thought. She wasn’t wrong.

‘What a charming man, Lizzi. He doesn’t seem the least bit cross with you.’

She snorted. ‘He is now.’

‘Oh, Lizzi, how have you upset him?’

‘He was prying about David. It serves him right.’

Her mother sighed. ‘I don’t know how you expect to find another man if you——’

‘I don’t want another man! I’m quite happy the way I am! Nobody suggests you should rush out and find yourself another husband, so why should I?’

‘Because, my dear, you’re twenty-nine years old and I am fifty-four. I’ve had my family, I’m confined to a wheelchair and I have very little to offer. You, on the other hand, are young, beautiful, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You need a partner, Lizzi. You aren’t whole any more. You need the love of a good man to make you complete.’

Her heart gave a sudden thump. ‘You have an overactive imagination, Mum,’ Lizzi said, and changed the subject firmly. ‘What was it Jean told you to think about?’

‘Oh, nothing much,’ her mother replied airily, waving her slender hand. ‘Just a little trip we thought we might take—and don’t change the subject. We were talking abut Ross.’

‘No, we weren’t! You were trying to marry me off!’

‘Quite! Now, about Ross——’

‘No, Mother!’ Lizzi said firmly, and changed the subject again.

However, later that night, lying restlessly in bed, she raised her fingers to her lips and touched them lightly. How odd, she thought, that they should still tingle. An image of Ross sprang to mind, and a wave of heat washed over her body. Was her mother right? Did she need a man’s love? Then the heat drained away, insignificant in the aching emptiness. She’d had that love once, and lost it. Did she dare try again?