But then he saw the carousel. Parents were lifting tiny children onto one of the carved wooden horses, and a fairground organ was playing Christmas songs and Christmas carols. Jamie could see the wonder on the little ones’ faces as they went round and round on the horses. If life had happened the way it was supposed to, Giselle would’ve been nearly three and the perfect age for enjoying this.

He was coping with this. Just.

But then the song changed. To the one he couldn’t avoid. ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’ The song Hestia had loved so much. She’d even got her ballet class to do a special routine to it…

Cold stole through him, and it wasn’t just the temperature outside now the sun had set. This was a bone-deep thing. The misery was back. Big time.

As if she noticed, she said softly, ‘Time to find dinner. What would you like?’

‘Anything.’

She bit her lip. ‘Sorry. I’ve pushed you too far today, haven’t I?’

‘No. You’ve… It’s helped,’ he said. And it had, until he’d seen the carousel and heard that music, and loss had ripped through him again.

‘When I feel low,’ she said, ‘I pick things that make me feel good. Decent food—not junk, something really nutritious—music, and some fresh air. Let’s go get something to eat.’

Again, she hadn’t pushed him to talk and she definitely wasn’t prying. But the fact that she’d admitted she felt low at times made him realise that she understood how he was feeling right now. So he followed her away from the Ferris wheel and the carousel towards the food stalls.

‘OK. Do you have any food allergies, and are you vegetarian?’ she asked.

‘No allergies, and I eat pretty much anything,’ he said.

‘All righty. We could have Christmas dinner in a burrito,’ she said. ‘Or a calzone with turkey, cranberry and cheese filling.’

‘What would you prefer?’ he asked, suddenly curious.

‘My go-to comfort food is macaroni cheese,’ she said. ‘But I know it’s not the best thing in the world, so I try to mix some greens and some veg in with it, to balance it out a bit.’

‘I don’t notice what I eat,’ he admitted. Since Hestia’s death, he’d seen food just as fuel and not as a pleasure.

‘My best friend made me do mindfulness,’ she said. ‘I thought it was all hype, and I admit I’ve really mocked the stuff where you’re supposed to eat a single raisin and take ages over it. It’s so extreme. But there is a point to it. If you pay attention and notice things like colour and texture and scent, it does help to ground you a bit and it takes your mind off whatever’s dragging you down. It’s a kind of breathing space.’ She shrugged. ‘Plus I happen to know a stall here where they do really, really excellent macaroni cheese.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘sounds good to me.’

‘And I know this isn’t the greatest nutrition, considering how I’ve just been banging on about healthy food,’ she said, ‘but last year there was a stall here that did churros covered in glitter sugar. Which I think would be perfect with a hot chocolate. And I am so planning to have that second one today.’

‘These,’ he said, ‘are on me. Let’s find a table.’

Anna sat thinking when Jamie left her with their shopping and queued up to get their food. That moment when he’d gone all brooding on her by the carousel, when they’d seen parents lifting their small children onto the horses, made her sure that whatever was hurting him was something to do with a child.

Yet every day he worked with sick children. How could he bear it, if it ripped his heart in two all the time?

They barely knew each other, and she knew she shouldn’t push him to talk—especially because then he might start asking awkward questions of his own. Such as why she wasn’t like the rest of her siblings, happily married and having children when she got to thirty.

On the other hand, talking to a stranger and getting a different perspective on things might help him.

Or maybe she should just stop being such an interfering busybody.

‘Penny for them?’ Jamie asked, coming to sit opposite her and sliding a cardboard tray of macaroni cheese with spinach, complete with a wooden fork, across the table to her.

‘My thoughts aren’t worth a penny,’ she said, not wanting to hurt him by being nosy. ‘Thank you. This looks fabulous.’ She took a mouthful. ‘And it tastes even better.’ She noticed that he’d chosen the same.

‘This was a really good choice,’ he said after the first mouthful.

‘Though I’m buying us churros,’ she said. ‘And hot chocolate laced with that cream liqueur.’

‘So do you come to the Christmas fair here every year?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘And it’s got bigger every year. Usually I do it as a girly thing, either with my best friend or my sister and sisters-in-law.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you could say you’re an honorary girl today.’

‘Hence the churros with glitter sugar,’ he said dryly.

‘Wait until you try them,’ she said. ‘I recommend the cinnamon glitter sugar. And I want to go back and get some of the Christmas candles. The ones that smell of orange and cinnamon and cloves—and they’re for me, because I love candles at this time of year. Me, Gorgeous George, a good movie, some popcorn and a candle: that’s a perfect night in.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For pushing me into doing this.’

‘So you’re not hating every minute of it?’ she checked.

‘Not every minute,’ he said. ‘I’ve done my Christmas shopping and the food’s good.’

‘So what’s the hardest thing about Christmas?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer, and she was about to squeeze his hand and apologise for prying when he said quietly, ‘The music. Certain songs. I…’ He grimaced and shook his head.

‘OK. So we’ll try to avoid music for the future.’ At least until he was more comfortable with other aspects of the holiday season. ‘Can I ask—modern or carols?’

‘Modern,’ he said.

‘I’ll try to remember,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to make this hard for you, Jamie. I want to help make things better.’

‘You are,’ he said. ‘And seeing how much you love Christmas—I’m beginning to understand.’

‘Just wait for the glitter churros,’ she said.

Clearly he thought she’d been exaggerating to tease him, because when she came back from buying their hot chocolates and churros, she saw his beautiful cornflower-blue eyes widen. ‘They really are glittery.’

‘They started doing them last year. I’m on a mission to persuade the hospital canteen to start stocking them and I don’t care if they’re bad for your teeth—they’re so lovely and uplifting,’ she said with a grin. She set the box between them, and their paper cups of hot chocolate on either side. ‘Sorry. I forgot to ask if you wanted cream on top.’

‘It’s fine without,’ he said.

And it was fine, until her fingers brushed against his while they were dipping the churros into the pot of chocolate sauce. Her skin tingled where he touched her: which was ridiculous. They were colleagues, just about starting to become friends. She knew they both had baggage that would get in the way of anything else, so she really had to get a grip instead of letting herself give in to fantasies that just couldn’t ever happen.

Or she could blame her feelings on the sugar rush of the churros.

Because nothing remotely romantic was going to happen between herself and Jamie Thurston.

She hauled herself back under control and made light conversation until they’d finished eating.

‘Guess it’s time to go home,’ she said. ‘George will be wondering where I am.’

‘I hate to put a downer on you, but don’t goldfish have a memory of about three seconds?’ Jamie asked.

‘Actually, no. My nephew Will did a summer project on goldfish last year. He spent ages researching on the Internet, and then he did a flashy presentation for me. Apparently, there’s a university study where goldfish learned to press a lever to dispense food. The researchers changed it so the lever would only work for one certain hour a day, and the fish learned to press the lever during that one-hour window so they’d get the food. And in another study the researchers rang a bell at feeding time for a month, released the fish into the sea, then played the sound five months later and the fish came straight back, expecting their dinner.’

‘Like Pavlov’s dog—Pavlov’s fish?’ Jamie asked.

‘Exactly. George knows my routine.’ She smiled. ‘So I’d better make a move. Thanks for coming to the Christmas fair with me.’

‘It wasn’t as hard as I expected,’ Jamie admitted.

‘Good. So tomorrow you’re going to give me your menu choices for the ward’s Christmas meal,’ she said. ‘And are you free on Thursday evening?’

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe we can go skating on Thursday. Shall I book tickets for eight o’clock?’

He took a deep breath. ‘OK. My aversion therapy for Christmas continues. Are you good at skating?’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

‘Better than bowling?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be mean. Are you good at skating, then?’

‘I’m taking the Fifth on that one.’

‘You can’t. You’re not American,’ she pointed out. ‘Can you skate, or do I need to find out if they have an adult version of those penguins they use for toddlers?’

To her delight, he actually laughed. ‘I am not going to a skating rink and holding on to a ginormous penguin.’

‘Oh, good. So you can skate. I’ll be expecting flashy moves, you know. Axle jumps, swizzles and twizzles, and camel spins.’

He looked at her. ‘Did you just make those up?’

‘Nope. I can assure you, they’re all real moves.’

He looked horrified. ‘So you’re practically a professional skater.’

She took pity on him. ‘More like I love watching that show when they have celebs learning to skate with the pros, and I’ve picked up all the lingo from there.’ Then she frowned. ‘Actually, that’s a point. There’s going to be music at any skating rink in London, and I promised you we’d avoid music. Would you rather we did something else?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but isn’t the point of aversion therapy to face the thing that makes you uncomfortable?’

‘It is,’ she agreed, ‘but I don’t want to push you so far out of your comfort zone that you run back to the centre at the speed of light and never come out again.’

‘We’ll go skating,’ he said.

‘And if it gets too much for you, then we can leave,’ she said. ‘Even if it’s in the middle of a song.’

‘That’s a more than fair compromise. Thank you. I’ll walk you home,’ he said, and carried her parcels all the way back to her gate.

‘You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of coffee and to meet George,’ she said.

‘Another time, maybe,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘See you.’ And funny how his smile made her feel all warm inside.

CHAPTER FOUR

ON MONDAY EVENING Anna went straight from work to have dinner with her sister Jojo and sister-in-law Becky. She thoroughly enjoyed the chance to read a bedtime story to two-year-old Noah, even though part of her couldn’t help thinking wistfully of what might have been. If her own plans had worked out, she would have done this every night with her own children, sharing stories and cuddles and laughter.

But she was lucky enough to see lots of her nephews and nieces and to share in their upbringing, so she wasn’t going to let herself whine about what might have been.

Once she’d kissed her nephew goodnight and gone downstairs, Becky shooed her and Jojo into the living room, and Jojo put a glass of wine into her hand.

‘Righty. Spill the beans,’ Jojo said.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ Anna said.

‘Interesting. Because you went to the Christmas fair in the park yesterday,’ Jojo said.

‘How do you know?’ Anna asked, surprised.

‘Because Gemma at work went, too, and she saw you.’ Jojo gave a dramatic pause. ‘Eating churros with a very nice-looking man, so she told me.’

‘Why didn’t she come and say hello, then?’ Anna asked.

‘Because it was obvious that you were on a date, and she didn’t want to interrupt you.’

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, stop fishing. It wasn’t a date.’

‘What was it, then?’

‘Jamie’s a friend.’

Jojo scoffed. ‘Just good friends?’ she asked, making the quote marks with her fingers. ‘We all know what that really means.’

‘He’s my colleague.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with dating a colleague,’ Jojo said with a smile.

‘This is ridiculous.’ Anna frowned. ‘If you must know, he’s our new orthopod, the one who’s covering Nalini’s maternity leave. I’m trying to talk him into being Father Christmas for me on the ward—except at the moment he’s saying no because he hates Christmas.’

‘Why does he hate Christmas?’ Jojo asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Anna admitted, ‘but I can’t really ask him, because it’d be unkind to pry.’

‘True. But, if you don’t know what the problem is, then you might inadvertently stamp on a sore spot,’ Jojo pointed out.

‘You have a point. I think it might be something to do with kids, because he went a bit brooding on me when we were near the carousel,’ Anna said thoughtfully. ‘On the other hand, he’s an orthopaedic surgeon specialising in children’s medicine, so he’s around children all day. Maybe I was misreading it.’

‘You’ll have to find a tactful way to ask him,’ Jojo said.

Anna shrugged. ‘He’ll tell me when he’s ready.’

Jojo frowned. ‘What I don’t get is, if he hates Christmas, then why would he go to a Christmas fair with you?’

‘Because we’ve come to an agreement. If I can help him to feel that Christmas is bearable, then he’ll wear the red suit and beard and play Father Christmas on the ward for me on Christmas Day, in Robert’s absence,’ Anna explained.

‘So what do you get out of it?’ Jojo asked.

‘What it is to have a lawyer for a sister. I should’ve guessed you’d interrogate me,’ Anna said lightly. ‘I’ve already told you the deal. I’m helping Jamie to face Christmas, and then he’ll help me by being Santa.’

‘That’s work,’ Jojo pointed out. ‘I mean, what do you personally get out of it?’

‘Being Anna the Fixer?’ Anna suggested.

‘Not enough.’ Jojo looked at her. ‘If you’re helping him get over his hatred of Christmas, then I reckon in return he needs to help you get over Johnny.’

‘I’m already over Johnny,’ Anna protested. ‘So I don’t need any help.’

‘Yes, you do. You haven’t dated anyone since your divorce,’ Jojo said. ‘Which suggests to me that either you’re still in love with Johnny—’

‘Absolutely not,’ Anna cut in.

‘—or,’ Jojo continued, unfazed, ‘that Johnny’s left you feeling that you’re not enough for anyone.’

Trust her sister to hit the nail right on the head. Jojo was the most clear-sighted person she knew.

‘And that isn’t fair or true. You’re wonderful, and any decent bloke would be lucky to have you. You need to get back out there and find someone who loves you for who you are. Someone who deserves you,’ Jojo declared.

‘I don’t need anyone,’ Anna said. ‘Remember, I have Gorgeous George.’

‘A goldfish,’ Jojo said firmly, ‘is not the same as having a partner.’

‘Actually, George is better. He doesn’t talk back to me and annoy me.’ Anna gave Jojo a pointed look. ‘Unlike interfering little sisters.’

Jojo hugged her. ‘I’m not interfering, Anna-Banana. Really. I just worry that you’re lonely.’

‘How can I be lonely when I have the best family in the world and a ton of really good friends?’ Anna asked.

‘You come home to an empty house every night.’

Anna spread her hands. ‘So do lots of people.’

‘I think Johnny and his selfishness really chipped away at your self-confidence,’ Jojo said. ‘You don’t bother dating anyone, because you don’t believe a man will give you a second look as soon as they find out that you can’t have children.’

Anna sighed. ‘I’m fine, Jojo. Really. And I know not everyone shares Johnny’s views about infertility. Not everyone even wants children in the first place.’

‘I’m still not sure you’ve really come to terms with the situation yourself,’ Jojo said gently.

‘Honestly, I have,’ Anna said. ‘And you’d be the first person I’d talk to if I was upset about anything.’

Jojo still looked worried. ‘I hope you know I’ll always be here for you. And I hope you don’t think Becky and I rub Noah in your face.’

‘You don’t. At all.’ Anna was very definite about that. ‘I love him. I love the fact you both asked me to be his godmother. And I love that you and Becky let me come and read him stories and play with him whenever I want to.’

‘Because we love you, too.’ Jojo still looked worried. ‘So do you like this Jamie guy?’

‘As a colleague and potentially a friend, yes.’

Jojo raised her eyebrows.

Anna sighed. ‘All right. Yes, I admit he’s attractive. He reminds me of the actor in that Scottish historical drama everyone moons over.’

‘Nice,’ Jojo said approvingly. ‘Does he like you?’

‘I have absolutely no idea! I’ve only known the guy for a week. And this isn’t about relationships, anyway. Though I suppose I should think myself lucky you didn’t arrange for a suitable someone to partner me at dinner tonight,’ Anna added ruefully.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you.’

It was Anna’s turn to raise her eyebrows at her sister.

‘Not without warning you first,’ Jojo amended. ‘But, if you like this Jamie guy, there’s no reason not to make this Christmas deal of yours into a proper date.’ She grinned. ‘As he’s a surgeon, at least you know he’s going to be good with his hands.

‘Joanna Maskell, you really are just too much, sometimes!’ But Anna couldn’t help laughing. ‘Now, please can we drop the subject?’

To her relief, Jojo agreed; Becky called through that dinner was ready, and they kept the conversation light for the rest of the evening.

When Anna left, Jojo hugged her at the door. ‘Sorry for nagging. I do love you, Anna, and I worry about you. So does Becky.’

‘I’m fine. And I love you both, too. And Noah.’ Anna hugged her back. ‘See you soon.’

Anna didn’t see Jamie on the ward and wasn’t in clinic with him during the rest of the week, but on Thursday evening she met him at the Tube station as they’d arranged, and they went to the skating rink at Somerset House. There was a massive Christmas tree at either end of the skating rink, both of them covered in twinkling lights. Spotlights dappled the surface of the rink with different colours, and the rink was already packed with people, some looking nervous and sticking very close to the edge where they could grab the sides for safety, and others almost dancing on the ice. There was a pop-up Christmas shop selling gifts, and a stall selling hot drinks and snacks.

The music was all modern and Christmassy, and Anna could see that Jamie looked antsy; she remembered him telling her that he found Christmas music difficult.

‘If you’d rather not do this, we don’t have to,’ she said.

Jamie looked awkward. ‘But we’re here now and you’ve already bought the tickets. It’d be a waste not to use them. Which reminds me, I still owe you the money for my ticket.’

‘We’ll sort that out later. Let’s just go round the rink for one song,’ she said. ‘Then we can review the situation and see if it’s too much or if you want to keep going for a bit longer.’

‘OK.’ He took her hand and squeezed it briefly. ‘Thank you. You’re being very patient with me.’

‘I’m a doctor, not a patient,’ she quipped lightly. ‘And, for that matter, so are you.’

He groaned. ‘That’s terrible, but you know what I meant. I appreciate what you’re doing for me.’

‘You’re doing just as much for me, actually. This means I have someone different to drag out to all the Christmassy things I love doing and my family and friends have had more than enough of,’ she said with a smile. ‘Plus I have my eye on the big prize.’

‘What prize?’ He looked mystified.

‘You wearing that red suit on Christmas Day—because, apart from the fact that I haven’t managed to source a voice-changer yet, what if it fell off while I was walking through the ward, or my beard fell off to reveal it? I really don’t want to be responsible for making a whole ward of sick children find out the hard way that Father Christmas isn’t real.’

And then she regretted it when he looked even more panicky.

‘Sorry. I’m bulldozing you again. Ignore me. Let’s skate.’

They queued up to hire skates, changed into them, and started to make their way round the rink.

‘You’re much better at skating than you are at bowling,’ Jamie said to her.

She laughed. ‘That’s not exactly hard! But skating is just sliding one foot in front of the other. It’s easier than having to aim for something and trying to hit it. And if you think I’m bad at bowling, you should see me at archery. Everyone dives for cover.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So are you going to start doing all these spins and jumps and things?’

‘Two letters. That’s N and O, in exactly that order,’ he said.

But at least he was smiling and starting to relax, she thought.

Skating on an ice rink.

Jamie hadn’t done this in years. Hestia had always avoided skating, not wanting to risk slipping over on the ice and breaking an ankle; teaching ballet wasn’t exactly something you could do easily while wearing a fracture boot. So he hadn’t bothered either. But once he was used to the motion again, he found himself enjoying it.

Part of him was on edge, waiting for Hestia’s favourite song to start playing and haunt him, but he forced himself to smile because he didn’t want Anna to feel bad. She was trying so hard to help him, and he appreciated that she was trying to take the sting out of the festive season for him. And she clearly loved being out here on the rink, in the middle of the crowd among all the lights and with cheerful Christmas pop songs belting out.

All they needed now was for it to snow. Not the stuff that would settle and make all the pavements slippery enough to cause mayhem, but a few light, fluffy flakes that melted when they touched the ground, making the rink magical. And how weird was it that the idea actually appealed to him?

Then he realised that a child just in front of them was down on the ice, crying. He took Anna’s hand and gestured over to the little boy. ‘I think we should go and offer some help.’

She nodded, and they skated over.

‘I’m Jamie and this is Anna. Can we help?’ Jamie asked the little boy’s mother.

She looked grateful. ‘Thank you. I need to get him back on his feet before someone skates into him.’

Jamie helped her pick him up, but the little boy wouldn’t stop crying. He was holding his arm, not letting anyone touch it. And Jamie had the strongest feeling he knew what had just happened.

‘I’m a doctor,’ he said gently. ‘Can I have a look at your arm?’

The little boy shook his head.

‘What’s his name?’ Anna asked.

‘Adeoye—Ade for short,’ the boy’s mum said.

‘Ade, does it hurt here?’ Jamie asked, pointing to his own wrist.

Ade nodded, still sobbing.

‘When you slipped over,’ Jamie said, ‘did you put your hands down first to stop yourself falling flat on your face?’

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