About the Authors

KATE HARDY has always loved books, and could read before she went to school. She discovered Mills & Boon books when she was twelve, and decided that this was what she wanted to do. When she isn’t writing Kate enjoys reading, cinema, ballroom dancing and the gym. You can contact her via her website: katehardy.com.

EMILY FORBES is an award-winning author of Medical Romance for Mills & Boon. She has written over twenty-five books and has twice been a finalist in the Australian Romantic Book of the Year Award, which she won in 2013 for her novel Sydney Harbour Hospital: Bella’s Wishlist. You can get in touch with Emily at emilyforbes@internode.on.net, or visit her website at emily-forbesauthor.com.

Also by Kate Hardy

Unlocking the Italian Doc’s Heart

Reunited at the Altar

Carrying the Single Dad’s Baby

A Diamond in the Snow

Heart Surgeon, Prince…Husband!

Finding Mr Right in Florence

A Nurse and a Pup to Heal Him

Soldier Prince’s Secret Baby Gift

Miracles at Muswell Hill Hospital miniseries

Christmas with Her Daredevil Doc

Their Pregnancy Gift

Also by Emily Forbes

Waking Up to Dr Gorgeous

One Night That Changed Her Life

Falling for His Best Friend

Reunited with Her Brooding Surgeon

Rescued by the Single Dad

Tempted and Tamed miniseries

A Doctor by Day…

Tamed by the Renegade

A Mother to Make a Family

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Mistletoe Proposal on the Children’s Ward

Kate Hardy

Taming Her Hollywood Playboy

Emily Forbes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90202-5

MISTLETOE PROPOSAL ON THE CHILDREN’S WARD & TAMING HER HOLLYWOOD PLAYBOY

Mistletoe Proposal on the Children’s Ward © 2019 Pamela Brooks Taming Her Hollywood Playboy © 2019 Emily Forbes

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Mistletoe Proposal on the Children’s Ward

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Taming Her Hollywood Playboy

Back Cover Text

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

About the Publisher

Mistletoe Proposal on the Children’s Ward

Kate Hardy

From Santa…

…with love!

Children’s doctor Anna Maskell loves Christmas. But Muswell Hill Memorial’s new locum surgeon, Jamie Thurston, hates it! So Anna makes him a deal—if she teaches him to embrace Christmas again, he’ll play Santa to their little patients! But as Anna tempts him with the joys of the season, they also discover a connection neither expected. Can Jamie find the courage to give Anna what she truly needs this Christmas—his love?

To Gerard, Chris and Chloe,

who always make Christmas special to me.

CHAPTER ONE

‘HOW ARE THE ward Christmas things coming on, Anna?’ Robert Jones asked.

‘Brilliant, thanks.’ Anna smiled at the head of the Children’s Department. ‘The Secret Santa is pretty much sorted, we’ve got Christmas dinner booked and most people have given me their deposits and menu choices, and the only thing I’m short of now is someone to be Father Christmas on Christmas Day.’ Her smile broadened. ‘Seeing as our usual Santa has let us down horribly.’

Robert held up both hands in a ‘stop’ gesture and laughed. ‘Anna, you know why I can’t do it this year. I’d have to fly back from New York. And that’s more than my life is worth, on my silver wedding anniversary.’

‘Even for the ward? Even for me?’ she teased.

‘Even for the ward and even for you,’ Robert said. ‘Actually, Anna, I did want to ask you a bit of a favour. Jamie Thurston—the new paediatric orthopod who’s covering Nalini’s maternity leave for the first three months—is joining us today.’

‘And you want me to show him around and help him settle in?’ Anna guessed.

‘Would you?’ Robert asked.

‘Of course.’ She smiled at him again. ‘I’m in the PAU this morning. I’ll leave a message with whoever is on the desk to ask him to meet me at one and I’ll take him to lunch.’

‘Great.’ Robert patted her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

‘Pleasure,’ Anna said, and had a quick word with Lacey on the reception desk before she headed for the Paediatric Assessment Unit.

Her third patient of the day was a four-month-old baby who had been referred to her clinic by the health visitor, on the grounds of possible DDH—developmental dysplasia of the hip. A quick read through the notes ticked all the boxes of a higher risk: Poppy Byford was a first baby, a girl, born at thirty-six weeks and had been in the breech position. So Anna was pretty sure that the health visitor had picked up the problem.

‘Good morning, Ms Byford. Do come in and let’s have a look at Poppy,’ Anna said. ‘Hello, you gorgeous girl.’ She cooed at the baby, who giggled and waved her hands. ‘She’s beautiful,’ Anna said, and stuffed the little twinge of longing right back down out of the way. She could enjoy being an aunt and enjoy working with her young patients, and that was enough. Wanting more was greedy and pointless—and the quickest way to get her heart broken.

‘Thank you.’ Poppy’s mum looked nervous.

‘Your health visitor asked you to bring Poppy to see me because she thinks Poppy might have something called developmental dysplasia of the hip—you might hear it called DDH for short, or “clicky hip”,’ Anna explained. ‘Usually it shows up in a newborn examination, and I can see in Poppy’s notes that the doctor did a hip test at her six-week check and it seemed normal. But the health visitor’s concerned and wants me to do another check.’

‘Is Poppy going to be all right?’ Ms Byford asked. ‘I did start looking it up on the Internet, but…’ She grimaced.

‘The Internet is a very scary place where medical problems conditions are concerned,’ Anna said. ‘It’s like when you’re pregnant with your first child, and you always hear the horror stories about difficult labours rather than the smooth ones, even though the difficult ones are much rarer. There is a possibility that Poppy might grow out of the condition, but I’d like to examine her properly and then do an ultrasound scan to check how her hip is developing.’ She smiled. ‘I promise what I do isn’t going to hurt her, but she might not appreciate being manipulated and might grumble a bit.’

‘All right,’ Ms Byford said.

‘Have you noticed when you change her nappy that one hip doesn’t open out quite as much as the other?’ Anna asked.

Ms Byford wrinkled her nose. ‘Not really. I thought everything was normal. I mean—she’s my only one.’

‘So you don’t have anything to compare her with. That’s fine.’ Anna gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Could you take her tights off for me, please?’

Once Ms Byford had taken the tights off the baby, Anna examined Poppy and cooed at her while she manipulated the baby’s joints, blowing raspberries to make her laugh.

‘So do you think she has this clicky hip thing?’ Ms Byford asked.

‘I felt a bit of a clunk when I moved her legs just now, so yes,’ Anna said. ‘I can see that her right leg is slightly shorter than the left, and basically I think her thigh bone isn’t moving properly in the socket of her pelvis. We’ll do the scan, and then we can think about treatment. It might be that we do a watch-and-wait thing, or we might put her in a special harness to treat the hip dysplasia, but I’ll be in a better position to know what’ll work best once I’ve seen the scan results. And the scan’s like the one you had when you were pregnant with her, so it won’t hurt,’ she added reassuringly.

While Poppy was having her scan, Anna saw her next patient. The scan results definitely showed a problem with Poppy’s hip, but whether the harness would be enough or the baby would need treatment with traction, she wasn’t sure.

‘I’m going to have a word with one of my colleagues,’ she said to Ms Byford. ‘He’s a specialist in children’s bones, and I’d like to check a couple of things with him. I’m sorry, I’m afraid it means a bit more waiting about for you, but please try not to worry because this really is something we can sort out for Poppy.’

To her relief, the new paediatric orthopod was in one of the offices, reviewing notes for his operating list the next day. She rapped on the open door. ‘Mr Thurston?’ she asked. ‘I’m Anna Maskell, one of the special regs on the ward, and I’ve got a baby with clicky hip. She’s a borderline case and I’m not sure if she needs an op, so would you mind reviewing her scan and treatment plan with me, please?’

‘Sure,’ he said, looking up from his notes.

His eyes were the most piercing cornflower blue, and Anna felt her pulse leap.

How completely inappropriate.

For a start, they were at work, and her patients always came first. Secondly, given that Jamie Thurston looked to be in his mid-thirties, he was probably already involved with someone; but, even if he wasn’t, Anna wasn’t looking for a relationship. Love wasn’t on her list of things to do, not any more. It had taken her two years to put her heart back together since Johnny’s affair and the disintegration of her marriage, and she wasn’t planning to risk her heart breaking ever again.

‘Thank you. Robert asked me earlier if I would show you around,’ she added. ‘I was due in the Paediatric Assessment Unit before you arrived, so I asked Lacey to pass on a message inviting you to lunch, as it’s your first day and you probably haven’t had a chance to find your way around yet.’

So this was Anna Maskell, the woman who’d left him that kind message, Jamie thought.

She was taller than average with broad shoulders, a shock of dark curly hair she’d tied back at the nape of her neck, and eyes the same green as the sea on a summer day; she was more like an Artemis than a delicate nymph, though it shocked him he was even thinking that way. For a moment, his tongue felt as if it had stuck to the roof of his mouth. Then he pulled himself together. ‘Yes, she did tell me. Thank you. That was kind.’

‘Pleasure. My patient?’ She sounded businesslike, but kind rather than snippy.

‘Of course.’ He logged out of his screen and shifted his chair so she could draw up the scan for her patient.

‘Poppy Byford is four months old,’ Anna said. ‘She has all the risk factors for DDH, but her newborn and six-week checks were completely normal. The health visitor was concerned that one hip wasn’t opening out properly and referred her. I definitely felt a clunk when I manipulated her legs, and I don’t think watch-and-wait is the right way forward for her, but I’m not sure whether to try a Pavlik harness for a couple of months or whether traction would be a better option—I’m hoping we might be able to get away without an operation, but I could really do with an orthopod’s view. As I said, she’s borderline.’

Jamie liked the way she was so clear in giving him the information he needed to help him make the clinical decision—and that she’d clearly thought the treatment options through before coming to see him.

‘I agree, it looks borderline,’ he said. ‘As she’s younger than six months, I agree that it would be better to start with something less invasive than an operation. Let’s try a harness for three months,’ he suggested, ‘and we can give an ultrasound review of how her hips are developing every month.’

‘Great. Thank you.’ She smiled at him.

How strange that a smile could almost make him feel warm inside.

He hadn’t felt warm since Hestia had died, three years ago.

Before he realised what he was doing, Jamie found himself looking at Anna’s left hand. Ridiculous. Apart from the fact that not wearing a ring didn’t mean she wasn’t already committed elsewhere, he wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. No way could he face the emptiness of losing someone again and having to try to put his life back together again afterwards.

Work.

This was strictly work. End of.

‘Would you like me to come and talk to Poppy’s mum and fit the harness?’ he asked.

‘Would you mind?’

‘Sure. I was only reviewing tomorrow’s list, and that can wait. I’ll come now.’

In the assessment unit, Anna introduced him swiftly to Poppy and her mum.

‘The good news is,’ Jamie said, ‘we’re not necessarily looking at an operation to help Poppy’s hips. We can fit something called a Pavlik harness; it will keep her hips in the right position so they can develop properly.’

‘Will it hurt?’ Ms Byford asked.

‘No. It’s lightweight and made of fabric,’ Anna said. ‘You might find it a bit upsetting to see it, and Poppy might be a bit grizzly for the first few days, but it won’t hurt her and she’ll soon get used to it.’

‘She’ll need to wear it all the time,’ Jamie added. ‘It will be easier for you to put her in loose clothes while she’s got the harness fitted.’

‘Do I take it off when she has a bath?’ Ms Byford asked.

‘No. Just top and tail her rather than giving her a full bath,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ll see you every week to adjust the harness as she grows, and she can have a proper bath here when we take the harness off, before we do the adjustment.’

‘So how long will she have to wear this harness?’ Ms Byford asked.

‘Maybe for two or three months,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ll give Poppy an ultrasound scan every month to see how her hips are developing, and you’ll see a physiotherapist with her here every week.’

Ms Byford frowned. ‘What if the harness gets dirty?’

‘The harness can be sponge cleaned,’ Anna said. ‘And some of my parents have put long socks over the baby’s legs to protect the harness during nappy changes.’ She smiled. ‘One of my mums calls them the “poo socks”.’

Ms Byford looked close to tears. ‘Only a few days ago, everything was fine. And now…’

‘The good news is that Poppy might not need an operation,’ Jamie said gently. ‘And a harness is a lot easier to manage than a plaster cast. Hopefully, wearing the harness will encourage her joints to develop as they should. I know this has been a shock to you, but she’s going to be fine. The earlier we pick up something like this, the quicker it is to treat.’

‘And she’ll be all right?’ Ms Byford asked.

‘She’ll be absolutely fine,’ Anna reassured her. ‘I know right now it feels as if you don’t know anyone else going through this and it’s a bit daunting, but Poppy’s not the only baby I’ve seen with clicky hip, and all my former patients with it have gone through treatment and are just the same as their peers now. The next thing you know, Poppy will be crawling and you’ll be shocked at just how fast a determined baby can move.’

Between them, Jamie and Anna fitted the harness. Poppy protested, and her mum watched them with silent tears rolling down her cheeks, looking anxious.

Anna gave her a reassuring hug. ‘I know right now it feels a bit scary and overwhelming, but you’ll both get used to it and she’ll be back to her usual smiley self before you know it. I’ll book you in with the physiotherapist and my clinic for a week’s time, and in the meantime if you’ve got any questions just ring in.’ She took a leaflet from a drawer. ‘This will tell you all about the harness and what it does, if anyone asks you and it’s gone all fuzzy because right now you’re worrying too much about Poppy to take everything in.’

Jamie glanced at her. Anna Maskell was kind as well as professional. And he could already see the difference that kindness had made to the patient’s mother; Ms Byford had stopped crying and was asking questions.

Anna, he thought, was going to be good to work with.

Not that he intended getting close to her or to any of his other colleagues in the Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital. He’d agreed to cover maternity leave here for three months, and that was all. He didn’t need to make new friends. He was absolutely fine on his own.

‘All the best, Ms Byford. I’ll see you later, Dr Maskell,’ he said. And he left the room before he was tempted to blow a raspberry at Poppy and make the baby laugh.

Babies.

How ironic that this was his vocation, the job he loved so much.

After losing Hestia and the baby, Jamie hadn’t wanted to see another baby or child ever again. But he wasn’t going to throw all those years of hard work and studying away and change his career. Hestia would never have forgiven him for that. But, unable to face the pity of his team at the hospital where he’d worked in south London, he’d switched to working as a locum. No involvement, no closeness, no risk of heartache. He stayed for no longer than three months in one place; as soon as his locum cover was finished, he moved on to the next job. That was how his life had been for the last two and a half years, and that was how he intended it to stay. Utterly within his comfort zone.

Anna finished writing up her notes for the last patient of her morning’s clinic, then headed to the office where she’d met Jamie Thurston earlier. ‘Ready?’ she asked from the doorway.

‘Yes.’ He logged out of the files he’d been reviewing, then came to join her.

‘Did Robert introduce you to everyone when you started this morning, or would you like to meet everyone now?’

‘Robert introduced me,’ Jamie said.

‘That’s great. OK. I’m assuming he also showed you the staff kitchen?’

‘Yes.’

‘Just the canteen, then,’ she said, ‘and filling you in on the social side of the ward.’

‘Social side?’

Was it her imagination, or did Jamie look a bit antsy? ‘We’re a close team. We do a lot of things together outside work,’ she said. ‘And we try to do stuff that includes partners and children.’

He said nothing, simply nodded.

‘Locums count as part of the team,’ she said softly. But she shut up when she noticed his slight frown. Maybe he was shy. And it was his first day on the team, so she should cut him some slack.

She left it until they’d bought lunch and found a quiet table in the canteen. ‘I guess it’s because I have bossy tendencies,’ she said, smiling to take the sting from her words, ‘but I organise most of the ward’s social stuff. I’ve had the venue for the team Christmas dinner booked since July, but I don’t have to give the absolute final numbers or confirm everyone’s menu choices to the pub for another week or so.’

Jamie’s wrap stopped tasting like sweet chilli chicken and turned to ashes in his mouth.

Christmas.

No.

Since Hestia’s death, he didn’t do Christmas. There weren’t tidings of comfort and joy, as far as he was concerned. Just the bleak midwinter, and the radio playing songs saying how it would be lonely at Christmas, or begging the singer’s loved one to come home for Christmas, or, worse still, the song Hestia had loved and danced around the house to with him, making him sing along with her. The most popular modern song, the one that seemed to be playing all the time in December, no matter which radio station he chose.

All Hestia had wanted for Christmas was him. And their baby.

That was what he’d wanted, too.

What he’d actually got was a double funeral. All those plans, all the happiness and excitement, had sunk into a black hole. It was just over three years ago now, and everyone had expected him to move on. But he couldn’t. It was too, too hard.

Which was why he worked as a locum.

And why he flatly refused social invitations from family and friends alike, since the time they’d all clearly talked about him and decided he needed help to move on, and had set him up at a dinner party with a suitably single woman. A nice, sweet woman who deserved so much more than the wreckage that had once been Jamie Thurston. He’d been polite, the first couple of times it had happened, but then he’d refused invitations so he wouldn’t be put in an awkward position again. He didn’t need to be fixed up with anyone. He didn’t want anyone else in his life.

‘Sorry. I don’t think—’ he began, but Anna had already fished her phone out of her pocket.

‘It’s very much a foodie pub, so the food’s utterly amazing,’ she said. ‘The smoked salmon pậté is to die for.’

Die. Yeah. Jamie knew all about dying and death. Though this wasn’t Anna’s fault. She didn’t know him, so she’d have no idea how inappropriate that phrase was.

‘If you’re veggie or vegan, the avocado on toast with chilli jam is fantastic. Or the spiced pumpkin soup,’ she continued.

He didn’t want to even think about a ward Christmas dinner, let alone go to one.

‘They do the best roast potatoes in the world—better even than my mum’s, which is saying a lot,’ she said. ‘Crispy on the outside and fluffy in the middle. And they stir-fry the Brussels sprouts with lemon and chilli. There’s traditional turkey, sea bass if you prefer fish, or parsnip and chestnut Wellington for the veggie/vegan option.’ She passed her phone to him so he could see the menu for himself. ‘Obviously there’s traditional Christmas pudding or cheese, but I guarantee the chocolate Venetian cake will ruin you for any other pudding.’

He blinked at her.

‘Or I can email everything over to you, if you want to take a bit of time choosing. It’s the first Friday evening in December, at half-past seven,’ she said. ‘And we do a Secret Santa on the ward, too—you pick a name out of the hat, leave your labelled parcel with the secretaries, and Robert puts the ward’s Father Christmas outfit on and dishes them out on the night. Anyone who can’t make it to the dinner gets their parcel at the start of their next shift.’

This was going way, way too fast for him.

She gave him a speculative look. ‘Actually… Robert usually dresses up as Father Christmas for us on the ward on Christmas Day, but this year he’s disappearing off to New York.’ She smiled. ‘I guess his silver wedding anniversary’s a good enough excuse for him not to do it this year. But it means I need a replacement Father Christmas. You’re about the same height as Robert, so the costume would fit you perfectly.’

What? Jamie could barely process this. She wanted him to dress up as Father Christmas?

He couldn’t.

He just couldn’t.

Finally, he found his voice. ‘Sorry. I can’t.’

Something must’ve shown in his eyes, because she winced. ‘I’m so sorry. This is only your first day, and I’m overwhelming you. Let me backtrack a bit. I’ll send you all the stuff about the ward Christmas events, but maybe you’d like to come ten-pin bowling with the team on Friday night as a starter? It’ll give you a chance to meet people you might not have met on the ward yet, and we’re a nice lot. Not everyone’s as…um…steamrollery as me.’

Steamrollery? Yes, she was. But the woman he’d seen on the ward was also kind. She gave patients and their parents time to think about things, and made sure they had all the information they needed so they knew all the facts and could make a good decision about their healthcare plan. She tried to understand their feelings. Yes, she’d overwhelmed him a bit just now, but that was probably just because he hated Christmas.

‘I haven’t been ten-pin bowling in years,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter if you’re a bit rusty. I cheat hideously and keep the bumper bars up in my lane,’ she confided, ‘because I can’t bowl in a straight line. Straight to the gutter every time, that’s me.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Sadly, being tall and built like an Amazon doesn’t mean that I’m any good at sport.’

He wanted to refuse the invitation and tell her he didn’t do social stuff.

But her smile disarmed him. It was warm and friendly and ever so slightly goofy, and it shocked him that she could affect him this way. He’d kept his distance from everyone for nearly three years. How could a near-stranger make him feel…?

‘It’s all just a bit of fun, and nobody takes things seriously,’ she said. ‘It’s a chance for everyone to let off a bit of steam and enjoy each other’s company. Thankfully nobody on the ward is one of those competitive idiots who just have to win all the time; everyone’s really nice.’

Nice. That usually went with kindness. And if his new colleagues found out about his past they’d swamp him in pity. Jamie really, really couldn’t handle that. He’d had more than enough pity to last him a lifetime. He just wanted to be left alone.

‘Thanks for inviting me,’ he said, fully intending to make an excuse and say that he couldn’t make it.

But then the wrong words came out of his mouth, shocking him. ‘I’ll be there.’

What? He didn’t do social stuff.

But it was too late, because she was already looking thrilled that he’d agreed to join them. ‘Fantastic. We normally grab something to eat at the bowling alley, too—I’m afraid it’s not the greatest nutrition because it’s pretty much a choice of pizza, nachos or burger and fries, but it’s edible. Our lanes are booked at seven,’ she said. ‘I’m assuming that you’re new to the area, so I’ll send you directions.’

It was definitely too late to back out now. Or maybe he could invent a last-minute emergency on Friday night and just not go.

‘Let me have your number and your email,’ she said, ‘and I’ll send you everything.’

That smile again. Its warmth melted Jamie’s reluctance, and he found himself giving Anna his number and his email address. A moment or so later, his phone pinged to signify an incoming message.

‘So now you have my number, and I’ll send you all the rest of the stuff after work,’ she said. ‘Welcome to Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital, Jamie.’

CHAPTER TWO

HEADACHE? JAMIE THOUGHT on Friday night. No, because that could be easily fixed with a couple of paracetamol. Bubonic plague? Strictly speaking, that did still exist, but the last case he’d heard of had been in Colorado and that wasn’t quite near enough to London to be plausible; plus if the condition was diagnosed properly it could be cured by the right antibiotic. Held up in traffic? No, because the bowling alley was within walking distance of his flat.

He didn’t have a single believable excuse not to turn up to the team night out.

He did have Anna’s number, so he could just call her and admit that he didn’t want to go. But it felt too mean-spirited and he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

And so he found himself outside the bowling alley at five minutes to seven. There was a group of people he recognised in the foyer; Anna detached herself from them and came over to greet him. ‘Hey, Jamie! Glad you could make it.’

He’d seen her several times at work during the week, wearing a smart shirt and skirt beneath her white coat. In jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and with her dark wavy hair loose, she looked very different: younger and very, very approachable. He was suddenly aware of her curves and how the faded denim clung to her.

Oh, for pity’s sake. He wasn’t a hormone-laden teenager. He’d seen plenty of women dressed casually.

But they didn’t make him feel suddenly hot all over, the way Anna Maskell did.

Tonight was definitely a mistake. Even if she wasn’t involved with someone, he was only here in Muswell Hill for three months, and then he’d move on. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship, even a temporary one. He could never give his heart again. He’d buried his capacity to love right there in the grave with his wife and his daughter.

But he forced himself to smile back. To fake a semblance of being a normal member of the team. He let her introduce him to the people he hadn’t yet met from their ward, swapped his shoes for bowling shoes, paid for his games, and chipped in his share of the food and drink order. He played the frames along with the rest of the team, sitting squarely in the middle of the scoring and being neither spectacularly good nor spectacularly bad.

Though Anna was playing on his lane, and she’d been right on the money when she’d told him that she was terrible at bowling. Without the bumper bars being put up, her ball would’ve gone straight into the gutter every single time; as it was, she seemed to have a strategy of zig-zagging the ball between the sides of the lane in the hope of hitting the pins in the middle, more by luck than by judgement.

‘Yes! Six pins! Best roll of the night for me so far,’ she whooped as the pins went down.

‘Best roll of the last four years, by my count,’ one of the others teased.

‘I know! How cool is that?’ She punched the air and then grinned. ‘Go, me.’

Everyone else on the team high-fived her, so Jamie felt he had to follow suit.

But when the palm of his hand grazed briefly against hers, it felt like an electric shock.

He was pretty sure she felt it, too, because those beautiful sea-green eyes widened briefly. And for a second it felt as if it was just the two of them in a bubble: the sound of bowling balls thudding against pins on the other lanes, of the electronic scoreboard, of music playing and people laughing and talking, simply melted away.

Then he shook himself. This wasn’t happening. Anna was his colleague for the next few weeks, and then he’d be moving on.

But he couldn’t shift his awareness of her. The tall, energetic, human dynamo of their department. The woman who was definitely attracting him, despite his common sense.

When their food order arrived, they took a break, and Jamie found himself sitting next to Anna. His fingers accidentally brushed against hers as they reached for a piece of pizza at the same time, and again it felt like an electric shock. He was going to have to be really careful.

‘So have you had a chance to look at the Christmas menu yet?’ she asked.

The Christmas meal he really didn’t want to go to. ‘Sorry, no.’

She looked disappointed. ‘Well, we’ve still got a bit of time,’ she said. ‘And maybe I can talk you into being Father Christmas for me.’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. Absolutely not.’

‘Don’t tell me—you’re allergic to red suits and big white beards?’

If she’d been pushy or snippy or sarcastic, it would’ve been easy to resist. To push back. But this, the jokiness underlain by a sweetness—this was much harder to resist.

He was going to have to tell her the truth.

‘I really don’t like Christmas,’ he said, and waited for her to start probing.

To his surprise, she didn’t.

‘A lot of people find Christmas hard,’ she said. ‘And it’s really rough on our patients and their parents. The patients who are old enough to want to be home with their families and are still young enough to believe in Father Christmas all want to know if that’s what he’ll give them: the chance to go home for Christmas. I hate telling them he can’t do that. The ones who are too old to believe in Father Christmas—for them it’s seeing their families and knowing how much it hurts them to be apart at Christmas, especially when they’re trying to juggle family celebrations with hospital visits and kind of splitting themselves in two. Christmas can be horrible.’

The way she said it made him realise how she felt. ‘But you don’t think it is?’

‘No. I love Christmas,’ she said. ‘I love the way it breaks down barriers and makes people kinder to each other, if only for a few hours. And I love the look of wonder in our younger patients’ faces when Father Christmas strides onto the ward, saying, “Ho-ho-ho,” and hands them a special gift from the Friends of the Hospital. It’s nothing hugely expensive, usually a book or some art stuff or a teddy bear, but enough to show them that Christmas in hospital isn’t completely bad. I bring my guitar in and we sing a few Christmassy songs; being part of that is just amazing. Despite all the worry and the fear, there’s still hope and love.’

Hope and love. Things he’d lost a long time ago.

‘I’m sorry for being pushy. I completely understand that you’d rather not be Father Christmas.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s really starting to look as if it’s going to be Mother Christmas this year.’

He suddenly realised what she was getting at. ‘You’re going to dress up in the Santa suit?’

‘I haven’t been able to talk anyone else into it,’ she said, ‘so it’s either no Father Christmas at all, or me. I guess at least I’m tall enough to get away with it.’ She spread her hands and grinned. ‘I might be able to borrow a voice-changer from my nephew or someone and hide it behind the beard. That, or I’m going to be channelling a Shakespearean actor and learning how to do a deep, booming voice.’

Anna Maskell was tall, yes, but there was nothing remotely masculine about her. She wouldn’t convince anyone that she was Father Christmas.

Jamie knew he should be nice and offer to help. But he just couldn’t get the words out.

Why did Jamie Thurston dislike Christmas so much? Anna wondered.

Maybe he’d had a difficult childhood, one where his family had rowed all the time and Christmas just made things worse—people being forced together for longer periods of time than they could stand each other. The Emergency Department was testament to how bad Christmas tensions could get. Add alcohol to the mix, and it was often explosive and painful.

But it would be rude and intrusive to ask.

She switched the conversation to something lighter. ‘There’s a team football thing in the park next weekend. Partners and children included, if you’d all like to come along.’

‘No children and no partner,’ he said, and the bleakness in his eyes shocked her.

Maybe he was divorced, and his former partner had moved away so he never got to see the children. In which case it was no wonder that he didn’t like Christmas. The festive season was a time for children, and not being able to see your kids at Christmas must be like rubbing salt into a very raw wound.

‘Sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry. Or to come on to you,’ she added, realising that he might have taken her words the wrong way.

And she really wasn’t trying to come on to him. Yes, Jamie Thurston was gorgeous; he reminded her of the actor in one of her favourite historical dramas, all dark and brooding and with those amazing cornflower-blue eyes. But she wasn’t risking her heart again. Johnny had made it very clear that nobody would want to tie themselves down to her, not once they knew the truth about her. She was pretty sure he’d said it to make himself feel better; the man she’d fallen in love with had been one of the good guys, but the shock of learning that they couldn’t have a family without a lot of medical intervention had changed him. It had made him look elsewhere; and then the guilt of knowing how badly he’d treated Anna had pushed him into saying unforgivable things that had hurt her even more than his betrayal.

‘I’m just not very good at social things,’ Jamie said.

‘Though the football isn’t a Christmassy thing.’ She winced even as the words spilled out of her mouth. Oh, for pity’s sake. The poor man had made it quite clear that he didn’t want to do the team thing next week. Why didn’t she take the hint and just get off his case?

Thankfully then their session on the bowling lanes started again, and she had to concentrate on trying to make the ball go straight. Not that she managed it. And this time she only knocked down one pin from each end. How pathetic was that?

Jamie said to her, ‘It’s your follow-through.’

‘Follow-through?’ she asked, mystified.

‘Where your hand points, that’s where the ball ends up.’

She laughed wryly. ‘Straight in the gutter, if I didn’t have the bumper bars up. But I guess my zig-zag approach is a bit too haphazard.’

‘Keep your arm straight and let the ball go when your hand’s pointing to the middle of the pins,’ he said. ‘Watch me.’

She did. ‘Wow. You got a strike.’

‘Because I aimed for the middle.’

‘I aim for the middle,’ she protested.

‘But you let the ball go too late,’ he said. ‘I take it you don’t go ten-pin bowling with your partner?’

Johnny hadn’t really been into ten-pin bowling. ‘No partner,’ she said.

He winced. ‘That wasn’t a come-on.’

‘I know.’ She smiled at him. ‘You sounded like someone who wants to help. A friend. And I appreciate that.’

He stilled, and she wondered if she’d gone too far.

But then he smiled. The kind of smile that lit up the whole room, and it transformed him utterly. It was as if he’d stepped out of the shadows he seemed to keep round him. When he smiled, Jamie Maskell was breathtakingly handsome.

‘I’ll help you with the next frame,’ he said.

‘Whatever you do, I’m still going to come last on our lane,’ she warned. ‘But it would be nice to actually do this right, for once.’

‘I can help you do that.’

She looked at him. ‘You’re like me, aren’t you? A fixer at heart.’

‘It’s kind of the definition of a surgeon, fixing things,’ he said dryly.

It was more than that, she thought. He was a fixer who wasn’t going to admit it.

Whatever had made Jamie Thurston put distance between himself and the world—and between himself and Christmas—maybe she could help him with that, the way he was helping her with the bowling.

She thought about it while they chatted with the others in their lane.

She stopped thinking for a little while when Jamie helped her with the bowling, standing close to her but not close enough to be sleazy or awkward. Because then he slid his arm along hers, showing her how to angle the ball correctly. The touch of his skin against his flustered her so much that she nearly forgot to let the ball go.

‘You went slightly to the left,’ he said when she’d knocked six pins down. ‘So this time you need to go slightly to the right.’

Again, he guided her through the procedure. And this time her ball hit the four pins in the middle, and they all went down.

‘There you go. You got a half-strike.’

‘That’s amazing.’ She flung her arms round him and hugged him.

When was the last time anyone had hugged him? When he’d actually let a woman hug him, because he’d pushed his mum and his sisters away, not to mention Hestia’s family and her best friend?

Probably at the funeral.

And now Anna Maskell had ignored all his usual barriers and hugged him. Briefly, because she stepped back almost immediately and said, ‘Sorry. That was a bit over the top. But I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get all the pins down like that before and I got a bit overexcited.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Let me be more appropriate. Thank you for your help, Mr Thurston,’ she said more formally.

‘You’re most welcome, Dr Maskell,’ he replied, equally formally. Though he could feel himself withdrawing again. Going back into the dark little hole where he’d lived for the last three years. But that hug had made him feel odd. As if there was a little flare of light, far in the distance. A light that drew him and beckoned him—if he had the courage to go and find it.

It took enough courage for him simply to exist from day to day. Going in search of a new life still felt too hard. But now he knew it was out there, and the little light wasn’t going to let itself hide again. It stayed put, telling him it would still be there when he was ready to look for it properly.

He managed to focus on the bowling for the rest of the evening. But then it was over, everyone was spilling outside, and his new colleagues all seemed to be heading off in different directions.

He’d walked a few steps when he realised that Anna was beside him. ‘It looks as if we’re going the same way,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you?’

‘That’s fine.’

‘Thank you for the bowling lesson,’ she said.

‘Pleasure.’ The word was polite and automatic, but Jamie was shocked to realise that he actually meant it. He’d enjoyed helping Anna, seeing her confidence grow along with her ability.

She’d said that she thought he was a fixer at heart.

He had been, once. Before the thing had happened that he hadn’t been able to fix. And he had to admit that it had been good to feel that way again, however briefly.

‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘Maybe I can help you.’

He frowned. ‘How?’

‘Christmas,’ she said.

The time of year he really disliked.

‘This isn’t a come-on,’ she added. ‘Just to be clear, I’m not looking to date anyone.’

She’d said earlier that she didn’t have a partner; though Jamie could imagine Anna Maskell right at the heart of a family. A large one. Why didn’t she have a partner, and why didn’t she want to date anyone?

Though it was none of his business and he wasn’t going to ask; if he started asking personal questions, then it was tantamount to an invitation for other people to ask him the same sort of things. Things he didn’t want to discuss.

‘I’m not going to pry,’ she said, echoing his own thoughts. ‘But Christmas is a fairly big thing at Muswell Hill Memorial Hospital, so it’s going to be in your face all the time. Maybe I can help show you that Christmas has its good side, so you don’t feel you have to try to avoid it all the time and it makes life feel a bit less pants at work.’

Maybe he should tell her why he disliked Christmas, so she’d back off.

Then again, he didn’t want to see the pity in her face once he told her what had happened.

‘Show me that Christmas has its good side,’ he echoed.

‘Yes. And, just in case you think I’m pitying you, I will admit that I have an ulterior motive.’

He frowned. ‘Doesn’t that kind of ruin any scheming, if you warn me that you have an ulterior motive?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘because I believe in what you see is what you get.’

He was going to have to ask now. ‘What’s your ulterior motive?’

‘I help you, and you help me.’

Oh, no. He knew exactly where this was going. ‘You mean, if you show me that Christmas isn’t the worst time of the year, then I’ll play Father Christmas for the ward?’

She grinned. ‘Thank you, Jamie. That’s an offer I’m very happy to accept.’

Hang on. He hadn’t offered. He’d just said out loud what he was pretty sure she was thinking. ‘But I—’ He couldn’t finish the sentence. She’d shocked him into silence.

‘Sometimes,’ she said gently, ‘when you avoid something, you give it more power than it deserves. Facing it head-on can cut it back down to its proper size and make it manageable again.’

He didn’t have an answer to that.

‘I’ve had days when I’ve had to fake it to make it,’ she said. ‘Days when I haven’t wanted to get out of bed and face the world—days when all I’ve wanted to do is curl into a little ball and let it all wash over me.’

He knew exactly how that felt, and it made him look at her. Really look at her. And there wasn’t any pity in her expression. Just empathy. Understanding. Clearly someone or something had hurt her enough that she’d been through an emotional nightmare, too.

‘I’m not going to pry,’ she said, ‘but I think Christmas is like that for you. I’m a fixer, just like I think you are. I can’t fix everything, and neither can you. But I reckon we might be able to fix a problem for each other, because we’re on the same team.’

Of course she couldn’t fix his problem. Nobody could bring anyone back from the dead.

He was about to say no. But then he remembered this evening. How she’d steamrollered him into joining in with the ten-pin bowling, and he’d actually ended up enjoying the evening. He’d felt part of a group of people—something he’d told himself he never wanted to do again. But that momentary closeness had managed to do what he’d thought was impossible; it had temporarily lifted the cloak of misery from round him.

If she could take the bits he hated about Christmas away, too, then maybe this was worth a shot. And if she could do that, he’d very happily wear that Father Christmas outfit to help her in return. ‘So what exactly are you suggesting?’ he asked.

‘Doing Christmassy things together,’ she said. ‘It’s the middle of November now. Give me a month. If I can convince you that Christmas has its good side, then you agree to be Father Christmas for the ward.’

‘And if you can’t convince me?’

‘Then there’s a bit of padding and a voice-changer in my very near future,’ she said. ‘And I’ll also apologise for not being able to make this time of year more bearable for you.’

He could walk away now. Stay wrapped in his shroud of misery.

Or he could say yes.

Anna had made it clear that she wasn’t asking him because she fancied him. The pull of attraction he felt towards her was clearly one-sided, and he had no intention of acting upon it anyway. She was merely suggesting that they could help each other.

He could almost hear Hestia’s voice in his ear. Say yes. The petite ballet teacher he’d fallen in love with had adored Christmas. She’d loved all the snowflakes and the fairy lights and the joy that her favourite ballet brought to her students and their parents alike. He’d loved it as much as she had, because her joy had been infectious.

Without her, it had been unbearable and he’d avoided it.

He had to admit it would be good to be able to cope with Christmas again. To remember the joy Hestia had found in the festive season, instead of seeing it as a harsh reminder of everything he’d lost. And for him to stop putting a dampener on Christmas for his family, choosing to work and stay out of the way instead of spending any time with them or inflicting his misery on them during the festive season. He knew they all worried about him.

‘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.

‘It’s December next weekend,’ she corrected. ‘Being organised means I get to find the perfect presents without any pressure and I also have the time to wrap them. My oldest brother refuses to go shopping until the day before Christmas Eve.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That’d drive me bananas, dealing with the heaving crowds and risking having to rethink what I’m buying because what I want is out of stock.’

‘So you’re a planner?’

‘Better believe it,’ she said with a grin. ‘I have spreadsheets, the lot. I keep a file of exactly what I’ve bought and for whom. It means I don’t accidentally buy the same thing twice for one of my nieces and nephews—or buy the same book for one of the siblings, unless it’s one that’s been loved to bits and I’m replacing it.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps you can help me look for something.’

Christmas shopping.

Hestia had loved Christmas shopping. She’d loved wrapping the presents, too, all ribbons and bows and garlands. Since her death, Jamie had bought mainly gift vouchers as presents; if he had bought an actual gift, he’d done it online and chosen the ‘wrap it for me’ option rather than doing it himself.

Now he realised how impersonal his actions must have seemed to his family, and he felt ashamed. They loved him and they missed Hestia, too. They’d all felt the loss of the little girl who hadn’t had the chance to join them. He should’ve let them grieve with him instead of pushing them away.

‘Perhaps you can help me, too,’ he suggested.

She beamed. ‘I’d love to. Buying presents is my favourite thing in the world. Right. Tell me all about your nieces and nephews.’

Uh… How did he admit that he didn’t have a clue? That he’d let so much distance creep in between himself and his family that he didn’t know what the kids were interested in any more? And children changed so much at their ages. ‘Dylan’s ten, Layla and Josh are eight, and Caitlin’s six.’

‘Are the girls super-girly? And do they have long hair or short?’ she asked. ‘Because hair ties and hair slides always go down well. Megan’s six and anything heart-shaped or glittery gets pounced on with absolute glee.’

‘Heart-shaped and glittery,’ he said. That hadn’t occurred to him. ‘I think that would be good.’

‘And art stuff. My nieces love paints and pens and notebooks. And books. I know they’ve got a fabulous bookstall here. Do Dylan and Josh like reading?’

‘I think so,’ he said carefully.

‘Let me show you Will’s favourite—he’s the same age as your Josh. And the bookstall people might have a good idea for something suitable for Dylan,’ she said.

Between them, they bought bangles and hair slides and scrunchies from the accessory stall, then moved on to look at the scented candles. Anna pounced on one for her mother. ‘Look at this!’ she said gleefully. ‘Put a tealight in the middle, and the heat makes the carousel spin round with six filigree owls dangling down. My mum loves owls, so she’ll adore this.’

He ended up with organic bath bombs and body butter for his mother and his sisters, ale from a microbrewery for his father and his brothers-in-law, books for all four nieces and nephews, a wooden duck with red Wellington boots for Caitlin, and a beautifully carved and painted wooden turtle for Layla, who he remembered loving the sea life centre when she was younger.

‘What do you get an eight-year-old and a ten-year-old boy?’ he asked.

‘Once you get them off the games console?’ she asked. ‘I’ve already bought Will one of those mini planetarium projectors. I think I saw something similar on one of the stalls earlier.’

‘I think Josh would like that, too,’ he said.

‘And I’m on the look-out for one of the magic science kits—the ones where you use all sorts of household objects to do tricks,’ she said. ‘Like adding vinegar to bicarb soda and a bit of food colouring to make lava.’

‘I think that would go down well with Dylan,’ Will said thoughtfully.

Once they’d finished their shopping, she looked at him. ‘Wrapping paper?’ she asked.

Jamie shook his head. ‘I don’t wrap.’

She grinned. ‘Considering what you do for a living, you really can’t get away with the excuse of not being neat enough.’

He couldn’t help smiling back. ‘There’s a big difference between surgical stitching and wrapping awkward parcels.’

‘Excuses, excuses, Mr Thurston,’ she teased, and made him buy beautiful gift bags and tissue paper.

It was the first time in three years that he’d actually enjoyed something to do with Christmas. His family were all going to be in shock, he thought, when he handed over actual presents instead of the usual envelopes containing gift vouchers. But a good shock. And he might even brave going to see them after his shift on Christmas Day this year, instead of relying on his usual excuse of work. Thanks to Anna’s advice, he was pretty sure that the kids were going to love the stocking-fillers he’d bought them.

Anna was prepared and had several foldable shopping bags in her handbag, a couple of which she lent to Jamie. The least he could do in return was offer to carry her purchases, too. And together they wandered through the fair.

There was a huge Ferris wheel at one end, all lit up, with people queueing for a ride.

‘Do you want to go up on that?’ she asked.

He nodded at their parcels. ‘Probably not with this lot.’

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?’

Ade nodded, but this time he spoke, his voice almost hiccupping through the tears. ‘It really hurts.’

Jamie could see that the boy’s wrist was an odd shape and, given what Ade had just told him, he was pretty sure it was a Colles’ fracture. ‘Does it feel tingly or numb?

Ade shook his head.

That was a good sign. ‘Do you feel dizzy or sick?’

‘A bit,’ Ade admitted.

‘OK. That’s probably the shock of falling.’ Jamie turned to Ade’s mother. ‘I think he’s broken his wrist—it’s a special kind of fracture called a Colles’ fracture.’

‘It’s really common when someone falls over onto an outstretched hand,’ Anna said. ‘We see a lot of them at the hospital when it’s icy.’

‘I can’t do anything to help you here, because Ade will need an X-ray to check whether any of the bones need manipulating back into place before they put the cast on,’ Jamie said. ‘If you take him to the emergency department now, they’ll do an X-ray and put a back slab on to keep his wrist stable overnight, then they’ll probably put a lightweight cast on tomorrow morning.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, for children, so I do a lot of this sort of thing.’

Ade’s mother bit her lip. ‘Will he be in a cast for long? He’s got the school Christmas concert in a couple of weeks.’

‘I’m sure they won’t mind him being in a cast,’ Anna said, ‘and at least you’ll have time to alter any costumes around the cast, if you need to.’

‘If it’s a straightforward fracture,’ Jamie said, ‘he’ll have a cast on for four to six weeks, and then he’ll need to do exercises every day to get his wrist properly mobile again.’

‘I’d better get him to hospital,’ she said.

‘St Thomas’ is the nearest emergency department to here,’ Jamie said. ‘I worked there for a bit. They’re really nice. It’s about ten minutes from here in a taxi and twenty on foot.’

Ade’s mother looked at her son, who was still guarding his arm. ‘I’ll call a taxi now.’

‘We’ll help Ade with his skates while you make the call,’ Anna said, ‘and we’ll wait with you until the taxi gets here.’

She was a natural with children, Jamie thought, telling the boy a stream of terrible jokes to distract him from the pain and even managing to make him laugh. Ade’s mother thanked them when the taxi arrived, and then Anna looked at Jamie. ‘Review time, then. Stop now, or have another skate?’

There was a hopeful look on her face, and he was pretty sure which one she’d choose. ‘Another skate,’ he said. ‘And then I’m guessing it’s hot chocolate?’

‘That sounds utterly perfect,’ she said, smiling at him.

And how crazy was it that his heart suddenly felt as if it had done a backflip?

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of their deal. They were colleagues, sort of on the way to becoming temporary friends. They weren’t supposed to get close and personal.

She was the first woman since Hestia to make him feel like that. Her warmth and her huge, huge heart just drew him. Yet, at the same time, he was pretty sure that Anna was hiding some deep sadness in her own past. She deserved more than he could give her. So he forced himself to keep things light.

Until the moment when she stumbled and he caught her so she didn’t fall.

She looked up at him, those beautiful sea-green eyes wide and her lips very slightly parted.

And he knew then that it would be, oh, so easy to dip his head slightly. Brush his mouth against hers. Wrap his arms round her, and then deepen the kiss until they were both dizzy…

Was it his imagination, or was she staring at his lips, the way he was staring at hers? Did she feel the same thing? Did she want him to kiss her?

His tongue felt as if it had been glued to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t say anything, do anything but try to resist this insane urge to kiss her.

But if he didn’t resist… What then? Would she kiss him back?

He could hardly breathe.

Could he?

Should he?

And then she said, ‘Thank you for saving me.’

Her voice broke the spell and brought his common sense back into play. No. Of course he shouldn’t kiss her. He needed to be sensible.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘More skating?’

At least if he had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, he wouldn’t be thinking about how it would feel to kiss her. How her skin would feel against his. How she was tall enough to be a perfect fit in his arms…

‘More skating,’ she said.

He didn’t dare glance at her expression to find out if she looked relieved or disappointed. Kissing was absolutely not an option. This wasn’t a date.

He just needed to concentrate on his footwork and the music. So far, he’d been lucky and they hadn’t played That Song. Hopefully they’d already played it enough times earlier in the evening. Two more songs, and he’d suggest they get hot chocolate and leave.

Anna knew she was really making an idiot of herself. Fancy almost falling at Jamie’s feet, like the poor little boy who’d slipped over earlier.

And then, when he’d grabbed her to steady her, it had felt as if she’d been galvanised.

Propinquity, that was what it was. Or maybe the bright lights dazzling her, the magical feel of the skating rink taking her out of the real world and letting her see the possibilities. Tempting her to do something that really wouldn’t be sensible in real life.

For a moment, she’d found herself staring at his mouth and wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. How soft and teasing and inviting his mouth would be. How it would feel to have his arms wrapped round her, holding her close to him.

But that wasn’t the deal.

She was supposed to be making him feel better about Christmas, showing him the good side of the season and taking the sting out of whatever had hurt him in the past, not flinging herself at the poor man and embarrassing both of them. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and neither was she. She needed to focus on skating. Skating, not kissing. She repeated the mantra to herself half a dozen times, hoping that somehow it would stick in her head. Skating, not kissing. Skating, not kissing…

But all the time she found herself very aware of him. The space he took up. His height. His dark good looks, those gorgeous cornflower-blue eyes, that shy and so-rare smile.

Get a grip, Anna, she told herself crossly. This isn’t a date. Stop thinking about the what-ifs, because there aren’t any.

Two more songs and they’d leave.

They went round and round the skating rink, and she couldn’t help noticing how the other couples there were skating hand in hand, how the more confident ones stopped and spun their partner round into their arms and kissed them despite no mistletoe being in evidence.

She wasn’t meant to be noticing the kissing.

Concentrate on the skating, she told herself fiercely. Even if it was driving her slightly crazy.

Maybe she needed some hot chocolate, a sugar rush to stop her thinking about the sweetness of his mouth. So, when the second song ended, she said, ‘I’m done. Time for hot chocolate, I think.’

‘Great idea,’ he said.

Except, when they were in the queue, someone bumped into them and Jamie ended up with his arms around her to protect her.

And all of a sudden there wasn’t enough air. Despite the fact that they were outside and had the whole of London around them, there just wasn’t enough air to suck into her lungs.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and it looked as if it was the same for him because his pupils were absolutely enormous.

It isn’t because of you, she told herself sharply. It’s a physiological reaction to a low light area, that’s all.

Except the lights weren’t really that low. It was actually really, really bright in the courtyard, so anatomically speaking his pupils should be tiny.

The fact that they weren’t made her heart skip a beat.

Was he going to kiss her?

On the skating rink, it would’ve been much too dangerous. Too easy for either or both of them to slip and fall. But here—here, they were on solid, unslippery ground.

Except it felt way more slippery than the rink.

If he kissed her, and she kissed him back… What then?

Right at that moment, she couldn’t move. They were in the queue, pressed together, with his arms around her and his face really close to hers. Had she been five inches shorter, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But their lips were well within kissing distance, and Anna really didn’t know what to do.

It was the first time she’d actually wanted to kiss anyone since Johnny.

And, OK, she knew that kissing didn’t necessarily mean anything. But she had a nasty feeling that, if she let him, Jamie Thurston could steal her heart. And she dared not risk that. It had taken her too long to put herself back together after Johnny. She wasn’t looking for another relationship. Not even a temporary fling. Anna Maskell wasn’t a fling kind of girl.

How could she move out of his arms without making a fuss and embarrassing both of them? Worse still, would he guess that she was moving away from him precisely because she wanted him to kiss her and this whole thing was driving her crazy?

She was saved by the waitress at the hatch asking, ‘What can I get you?’

The people in front of them took their own drinks from the counter and left, giving her space to move away from Jamie, and he said, ‘Two hot chocolates, please.’ He sounded cool and calm, not as if they’d been seconds away from kissing each other dizzy in public.

The space helped, but it wasn’t quite enough to stop Anna feeling like a teenager standing next to her crush at a high school disco. And she wasn’t wearing ice skates any more, so she couldn’t use her skating, not kissing mantra.

Somehow she managed to make light, fluffy conversation about skating and Christmas trees and decorations while they sat on one of the benches and drank their hot chocolate and watched the skaters, and then they headed back to Muswell Hill. The tube was too noisy for them to talk, giving her time to think, and on the way home Anna came to a decision. She knew how to neutralise the attraction now: she’d treat him in exactly the same way that she did her other male friends, so at the station she’d kiss him on the cheek, smile and say goodbye.

Except then Jamie offered to walk her home. She thought it would be a bit churlish to refuse, given that they were going the same way.

At her garden gate, she took a deep breath. Polite, she reminded herself. Pretend he’s just like any other male colleague. ‘You’re very welcome to come in for a coffee or a glass of wine or something.’

Something? Oh, no. Please don’t let him interpret that as her being like a teenager and talking in code for ‘come in and snog me witless’.

To her relief—mingled with disappointment, if she was honest with herself—he said, ‘Thanks, but I’d better be going.’

‘OK. Thanks for coming skating tonight.’ She paused. ‘I hope it wasn’t too difficult.’ This whole thing was meant to be about helping him, not about her making a fool of herself and starting to want things she couldn’t have.

‘No. It was fun.’ He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to enjoy it. ‘Thank you for organising it.’

‘No problem. See you at work tomorrow.’ She stepped forward, intending to kiss him on the cheek; but somehow everything got a bit tangled and she ended up kissing him on the mouth instead. And her lips tingled, every nerve-end reacting to the touch of his skin.

Anna Maskell had a huge heart. She was warm and affectionate, the sort of person who kissed everyone, and it didn’t mean anything, Jamie reminded himself.

Except he’d messed it up and, instead of kissing him on the cheek the way she’d obviously intended to, she’d kissed his mouth. And it was as if someone had just lit touchpaper and blown up some of the walls he’d built over the last three years, letting him feel again.

Dared he let himself want this? Dared he risk his heart with Anna?

They said that lightning didn’t strike twice in the same place…

Which was an unfortunate metaphor, given what had happened to Hestia. Eclampsia, from the Greek for ‘light burst’.

No. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t offer Anna an uncomplicated relationship. So he needed to back off.

Now.

Before either of them got hurt.

‘See you at work tomorrow,’ he muttered, and left without looking back.

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