AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I see.” I cleared my throat again.Keep this conversation on work, not our one-night stand.
“George had a few outstanding requests for donations that need a decision before he comes back. On his notes, he said you had good advice about who needs the money the most.”
“He did? Pam usually talks to him about fundraising. She’s the practice manager.”
“Yeah, it’s about Ballydoon sporting clubs rather than Stanmore where Pam lives.”
“Oh yeah, he talked to me about stuff like that. It wasn’t like a formal discussion or anything.”
“Do you mind if I ask you questions about some of the requests sometime soon?”
Stacey watched me, gauging my motives. My motives were pure. I really wanted to get to know her, and more of this place while doing George’s job. I kept my eyes focussed on the road straight ahead.
“That would fine,” she said.
“Today, maybe?”
“Alright, sure.”
“Over lunch?”
It felt like we’d formed a truce, and for a moment I thought I’d overstepped whatever this was, and Stacey would turn me down.
“Okay,” she finally replied.
We drove in comfortable silence with my 1970s mix tape playing in the background when her mobile rang.
“Ryan. Finally.”
She answered and chewed him out about the car, using some of the phrases that I’d said about timing belts, oil and pistons. Hearing that pleased me for some strange reason.
From what I could tell, Ryan sounded horrified about her car. He promised to tow it back to the garage and get Stacey a loaner while it was being fixed.
I pulled into the work carpark as she hung up. A part of me wished we had more time to talk but we had a promise of a working lunch.
“So, um. I don’t think I thanked you properly for helping me this morning. I really appreciate it.”
“It was no trouble. Really.”
We got out and I helped Stacey with her things.
“So, I’ll see you at lunch,” Stacey said, balancing everything in her hands. “For the chat. About Doc Larcombe things.”
“Looking forward to it, Nurse Turner.”
* * *
Stacey
Lunch did not happen. Harry emailed, asking to reschedule. We were swamped with patients, many complaining about headaches or stomach cramps or both. I managed to eat an apple and a muesli bar during the day. At 5.37 p.m., I rushed into the staff kitchen to find Harry raiding the biscuit barrel.
“Hi, I’m ready. Sorry for the delay.”
I’d changed into a long-sleeved black dress with a full skirt and a V neckline that highlighted my cleavage without being risqué. If I twirled on the spot, the skirt would lift in a circle around me. The dress was an old staple of my wardrobe with thread pulls all over it, but it was perfect for dancing. I gathered up my hair as best I could into a messy bun.
Harry stared, biscuit in mouth. I checked the front of my dress. “Something wrong?”
“No,” he said around a mouthful of crumbs. “You got changed.”
