A Doctor, A Fling & A Wedding Ring. Fiona McArthur

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      CHAPTER THREE

      WHEN Tara woke on her first morning they weren’t even at sea. They’d docked at six a.m. She’d never got around to really studying the itinerary before she’d boarded, had been so busy finding routes and equipment that when she opened the blinds, pleasure craft and even a castle on a mountain seemed surreal. Here she was, peering out of her window at the glorious bay of Monte Carlo.

      Another good night’s sleep had lightened her step and she found herself smiling as passengers oohed and ahhed over the rich and famous playground off which they’d anchored. There was something amazingly special about sitting at anchor on a floating hotel adjacent to a charming principality.

      When Tara walked into the clinic waiting room she found it surprisingly busy for a day in port until she realised that most passengers wanted their tests and injections before they left on the tenders heading for shore.

      When she offered to help with the backlog, Marie sent her in a young mother and her small son.

      The woman was petite, perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed. ‘I’m Gwen, and this is my son, Tommy.’ The woman patted his head and touched her son’s forehead. ‘I’m so worried. He’s got spots. He’s not contagious, is he?’

      I sincerely hope not, Tara thought as she looked down at the little boy. ‘Hello, Tommy.’ Tara bent down and the little boy held out his hand for Tara to shake. His skin wasn’t hot or dry and his eyes were clear.

      ‘Is he getting German measles? He has spots,’ his mother said again, clasping and unclasping her hands, and Tara felt the pull of sympathy for Tommy and his obviously distressed mum.

      ‘You poor thing. Imagine that on the first day of your holiday. But I think he’s fine. It may be a heat rash. Does he seem unwell to you?’ She looked at the reading from the digital thermometer she’d just used in Tommy’s ear.

      Tara had seen more than enough German measles to be fairly certain this wasn’t a case. The rash wasn’t typical, barely visible and mildly pink, and the little boy didn’t present as being unwell, but she gave the mother a list of other signs and suggested she bring him back if they manifested.

      The mother nodded her head with concern. ‘He’s normally a little terror. Are you sure the spots are okay?’

      ‘Yes, but you did the right thing bringing him in to check. Especially if he’s going into the child activity centre.’

      Gwen shook her head vehemently. ‘Oh, no. I’d never do that. There’s just the two of us. His dad left us, you see, and we’re visiting my sister in Mykonos on holiday. Sometimes he’s not a well little boy and on the ship I don’t have to travel without being safe. It’s Tommy’s holiday too.’

      Tara smiled at the pair. ‘He’s very lucky to have you. Bring him back if you’re worried, Gwen.’

      Tara showed them out and Marie sent in an older lady who wanted her ear looked at for wax. Marie was chewing her lip, trying not to laugh, and Tara pretended to frown at her. This was not life-threatening stuff at all but the waiting room was emptying. Still no crew and at this rate they’d be clear of patients before the two hours was up.

      Wilhelm was still sequestered with his previous patient so Tara took the older lady in with her.

      Wilhelm and Tara had planned to catch up on the in-service needed with the new ECG machine, as well as go through the cases from the day before, and Marie planned to venture ashore to peep into the casino in Monaco.

      Tara couldn’t help but wonder what a certain bar-staff member was doing because most of the bars were shut when the cruise ship was in port. No doubt by the end of the cruise she’d have a fair idea. She even toyed with the idea of looking for him after tea, she’d seen the bar on the wall directions, but a swell came up and the hospital was inundated with motion-sickness sufferers and that put paid to that. Good thing too.

      * * *

      On the second morning when Tara woke they were tied to the wharf at Livorno, the gateway to Florence, the leaning tower of Pisa and Tuscany, none of which she’d seen. Or would.

      But Tara was off duty later in the morning and quite happy to explore the less-crowded ship.

      She ventured through the main passenger areas in civilian clothes and gazed around at the surprising throng of passengers foregoing the shore excursions.

      Up in the sunlight, at one of the few open bars on board, Nick lorded it behind the Casablanca Bar like a sheikh in a harem. Tara stepped back behind one of the ship’s columns on the swimming-pool deck and watched him work.

      She had to admit he filled his blue T-shirt admirably and the muscles in his chest and those arms were blatantly provocative as he shook his cocktail shaker and grinned at the world.

      Why weren’t these women off visiting the city where they were docked? The rattle of ice carried across the hum of conversations that floated above the deckchairs and his teeth flashed as he theatrically poured the contents into a glass from a great height without a splash.

      Well, she guessed Nick was one reason. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud, which kind of surprised her because the little bubble of excitement that surfaced just by seeing him was totally unexpected.

      She frowned and looked away but there was nothing quite as much fun to look at. She couldn’t dispute she was feeling better than she had been when she’d stepped on board but this guy was nobody to her. And she was certainly a nobody to him.

      Her gaze drifted back to Nick as he scooped up a decorative skewer of pineapple and cherry and garnished a creation with a flamboyant wave.

      He was so confident, Tara could feel her lips tug again, so СКАЧАТЬ