The Big Move. Caroline Anderson

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      ‘I won’t let you down. I promise you, Kate, I won’t walk away from this.’

      She stared at him, at the serious expression on his face, the conviction in his eyes, in his voice. Dare she trust him? ‘You always walk away,’ she said at last.

      ‘I didn’t the night James died.’

      She gave a soft huff of laughter and shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t, did you? Maybe it would have been better if you had.’ But then she wouldn’t have had Jem, and her life would have been empty and pointless. And she needed him now.

      ‘I know I’ve let you down,’ he said softly. ‘I know I’ve let Jem down. But I’m here now, and I’ll stay here for as long as you need me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just give me a chance.’

      She shrugged and looked away. ‘I can’t stop you. But I can’t lean on you, either. I have to do this on my own.’

      ‘No, you don’t,’ he said, trying to inject something into his voice that she could believe in. ‘And I’ll prove that to you.’ Even if it took years. A lifetime.

      Her shoulders were drooping, and his heart went out to her. Poor Kate. She was exhausted, he thought, exhausted and shocked and traumatised, and it was late. ‘You ought to eat,’ he coaxed gently. ‘Keep your strength up.’

      She shook her head. ‘I can’t eat. Not when he’s like this. Maybe later. I could murder a drink, though. I wonder when they’ll move him to PICU?’

      ‘An hour or so? Shall I go and get you something? Tea, coffee?’

      ‘Tea would be lovely. Do you mind? I really don’t want to leave him.’

      ‘On one condition—you sit down beside him and rest, and you eat something if I bring it back.’

      ‘You’re a bully, do you know that?’ she said, but she was smiling, an exhausted, rather watery smile that in a heartbeat could have morphed into tears, and she sat obediently in the chair he put there for her.

      ‘I’m looking after you is what I am,’ he said, and headed for the door. ‘Any special requests?’

      ‘Tea. And a sandwich, if I must, but no cheese. I’m going to have nightmares as it is.’

      ‘OK. Back in five.’

      He went through the door and down the stairs, pausing halfway because he felt suddenly light-headed. Damn. That was giving two units of blood, not drinking anything like enough to replace the lost fluid or taking in any food—apart from Jack’s biscuits, he’d had half a cup of tea, a cup of water and whatever he’d had in A and E in the relatives’ room, and that was all since his miserable half-sandwich and instant coffee at lunchtime. And it was—good grief—a quarter past midnight.

      And the café, when he got there, was shut, with a sign directing him to the main canteen some distance away.

      There was a vending machine, and he pulled some coins out of his pocket with fingers that were starting to shake violently, and put them into the machine, pressed the button for a bottle of sports drink to boost his fluids and blood sugar, and twisted the cap to loosen it. And it sprayed him.

      He swore, twisting it shut again, and suddenly it was all too much. He dropped his head forwards against the vending machine and resisted the urge to slam it into the gaudy metal case. Head-banging wouldn’t cure anything.

      ‘Is it broken again?’

      The voice was soft and feminine, and he lifted his head and stared vaguely at the woman.

      ‘Um—no. Sorry. Did you want the machine?’

      ‘No, it’s OK.’ She tilted her head on one side, looking at him keenly. ‘Are you all right?’

      He opened his mouth to say yes, and then stopped. The woman was slender and delicate, but curvy in all the right places. She was probably younger than Lucy, her dark hair twisted up into a clip, and there was compassion and understanding in her emerald-green eyes.

      ‘A friend’s little boy’s just been admitted,’ he said, gagging on the half-truth. ‘They had a car accident. His pelvis is fractured. I was getting us something to eat, but…’

      She frowned. ‘I’m so sorry. Has he been to Theatre?’

      ‘Yes—yes, he’s had an op to plate it, and he’s OK, he’s in Recovery at the moment and then he’s going to PICU, but he shares my blood group, and it’s B-negative, and stocks were very low, so they took two units from me, and…’

      ‘And you haven’t eaten or drunk anything because you’ve been too stressed, and the café’s shut, and now the bottle’s got its own back on you.’

      He smiled. ‘Something like that.’ He held out his hand, then looked at it ruefully and smiled again as he withdrew it. ‘Sorry—it’s a bit sticky. I’m Nick Tremayne.’

      She flashed him an answering smile. ‘Jack’s father—of course. You look just like him. I’m Megan Phillips. I’m a paediatrician, so I’ll be looking after your friend’s son. What’s his name?’

      ‘Jeremiah Althorp. Jem.’

      ‘I’ll keep an eye out for him.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He tried to unscrew the drink again, but his fingers were shaking so much now he fumbled the lid and it fell to the floor. She picked it up and handed it back to him.

      ‘Come on, you need to sit down. Let me go and get you something to eat.’

      ‘No, I couldn’t.’

      ‘Well, I’d rather you did, otherwise I’ll have to pick you off the floor on the way to the canteen. I’m going to buy myself some sandwiches. Why don’t I get you some? I can bring them up to you, I’m going that way.’

      ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’

      ‘You didn’t ask, I offered.’ Her smile was gentle. ‘Chicken salad? Ham and cheese? Tuna? There isn’t a fabulous choice, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Anything. One without cheese for Kate, and I don’t care what I have, whatever’s going. And two teas, if you’ve got enough hands. You’re a star. Here, take some money.’ He pulled a twenty-pound note out of his wallet and handed it to her.

      She took the note out of his hands and smiled. ‘I’ll come up in a minute. Drink some of that before you go back up there, and I’ll come and find you.’

      He took her advice, downing half the cloyingly sweet drink, and after a moment he began to feel better. Less shaky and light-headed. He made his way slowly back upstairs, and when he pressed the buzzer a young woman let him back in, waving goodbye to Kate as she left the room.

      ‘Oh—were they shut?’ Kate asked, eyeing his all but empty hands in surprise.

      ‘Yes. I was going to the main canteen, but I met someone. A paediatrician, of all things. She’s gone to get something for us. She said she was heading that way anyway, so I gave her a twenty-pound СКАЧАТЬ