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He got the response he wanted when they ran towards him, and he took a hand of each to lead them to the ice-cream van that was parked, almost permanently, on the other side of the park.
‘I’ll bring them back safely,’ he said to Emma.
She smiled at him and said, ‘I didn’t doubt it for a minute—there’s no one I’d rather trust my boys to than you, Marty Graham.’
But as she watched them walk away, she sighed.
Was friendship always so complicated?
Or was this friendship more complicated than usual because, deep down, she’d have liked it to be more than that?
Of course, it was, but her feelings towards Marty were so tangled up with who they both were—she remembering the pain of a lost love and he, now she understood, fearing his own genetic heritage.
Could love flourish when they both had the darkness of the past to contend with?
Could she take the risk…?
CHAPTER SEVEN
GOING TO WORK seemed something of an anticlimax after the excitements of the weekend, but once there Emma found it soothing to be back in a familiar environment, and even welcomed the rush of the busy morning—patients who hadn’t wanted to waste their own precious time over the weekend in the local A and E came rolling in with a variety of complaints.
‘Half these people should be visiting their GP,’ Helen, no doubt suffering broken sleep patterns given her advanced pregnancy, grumbled.
‘Or have come in earlier,’ Emma said, having just admitted a small girl with a severe headache and the suggestion of a rash appearing on her body.
‘Has she had her meningococcal vaccination?’ Emma had asked the concerned parents.
‘Oh, no, we don’t believe in that kind of thing,’ the mother had replied, while Emma had cursed under her breath and hoped it was just an infection that could be cleared up with antibiotics.
But she’d ordered a lumbar puncture to collect a sample of cerebrospinal fluid and in the meantime put the child on a strong antibiotic drip. And she’d spoken to the mother about the importance of vaccinations, not only to protect the individual child but to stop many childhood diseases reaching epidemic proportions once again.
She knew the woman hadn’t listened—knew also it wasn’t because she was concerned for her child. No, this particular parent had made a stand and had no intention of changing her mind on the subject.
Recognising a lost cause, and admitting to herself that everyone was entitled to their opinion, Emma had walked away, though inwardly seething. Aware she couldn’t meet another patient in that state, she’d headed for the tea-room to calm down.
Only to find Marty ensconced in the most comfortable armchair. In fact, the only comfortable armchair, the room seemingly furnished with odds and ends of rejected chairs no one else wanted.
She glared at him and he held up his hands.
‘Hey, what have I done?’
Sat in the chair I wanted.
No, she couldn’t use such an inane excuse for her temper.
She made herself a coffee—instant.
‘One day I’ll buy a decent coffee machine for this place,’ she muttered to herself.
‘Someone would probably pinch it,’ Marty said laconically from the depths of the armchair. ‘Is it instant coffee that’s got you all steamed up or something else?’
‘Of course it’s not instant coffee, although I hate the stuff,’ she stormed. ‘It’s parents who don’t believe in vaccinating their children. Honestly, Marty, they must never read a paper, never listen to the news to not know how much danger they put not only their own child in but other children in too. I know they have good reasons or beliefs, but if they’d ever seen a child with meningococcal—a child who’s lost a limb, or his hearing, or even died, surely they would agree it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
He smiled the lazy smile that did funny things to her heart.
‘As you said, they have their reasons or beliefs, and they’ve freedom of choice because we’re not a police state—yet.’
Resisting an urge to throw her coffee at him, she settled into the next best chair, comfortable enough if you knew to sit on the left side so the loose spring on the right didn’t get you.
‘Maybe we should be in some instances,’ she muttered darkly, although she knew she didn’t mean it. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here?’
‘Brought you a family update,’ he said, not smiling now but she knew from his eyes he was still amused by her tantrum. ‘Mother and baby are both doing very well. The local GPs in Wetherby have offered to cover the hospital for Mac so he can stay down in Retford for as long as he feels he’s needed. Hallie and Nikki will stay on for the week. I’ll work out when I’ll be off duty, so I can fly down and take them home.’
