Santa Baby: 5 Sexy Reads For Cold Winter Nights. Charlotte Phillips
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a wry smile that lifted his spirits. For a moment there he’d thought she was going to leave him to the heap of food and disappear. That she’d decided to stay and talk, felt like a victory. It was certainly further than he’d got with her last time around.
‘With me it’s the other way around,’ he said. His appetite seemed to be non-existent, but he went through the motions anyway. The meal was the background he needed to keep her here, keep her talking. He uncovered one of the hot breakfasts and cut half-heartedly into a slice of bacon. ‘However much I might want to run away sometimes, I can’t.’
She looked at him, a light questioning frown creasing her forehead and he shook his head at her.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
She picked at her toast.
‘I don’t understand. What could you possibly want to run away from? You’ve got it easy. Your life is charmed.’ She put her elbows either side of her plate and began to count off on her fingers. ‘Successful doctor, supportive family you love you to bits, holiday home in Barbados, family home in the Cotswolds, no money worries…’
He held up a hand to stop her. With every new point she made the weight of it all bear down on him. And the worst of it was the guilt it invoked. She was right. He was selfish for wanting to follow his own dreams.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said. And maybe it was the knowledge that this was just a blip, something that wouldn’t exist beyond the next couple of days, that she was someone who didn’t know his family and could never communicate to them his hideous selfish disappointment with his own life. ‘But you don’t understand how it is with my family. And my work.’
He finally gave up on the cooked breakfast and pushed the plate to one side. His appetite showed no sign of returning.
‘For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a doctor,’ he said. ‘I’ve always looked up to my father, and the medical practice was such an integral part of our lives that it would probably have been weird if I’d wanted to do anything else. There was never any question in it for me. My grandfather was a doctor too, same town. And his father before him. There’s been a Henley as the doctor in our town for over eighty years.’
And if he had a quid for every time he’d been given that piece of information he could retire right now.
‘Of course these days it’s not just one village doctor doing the rounds. We have a proper medical centre that services some of the surrounding villages too. My father is senior partner.’ He took a sip of his coffee. His mouth felt dry. ‘For now at least.’
‘What do you mean ‘for now?’
‘He isn’t well,’ he said. ‘I thought there would be time for me to build my own experience as a medic. The idea of settling down as a village GP seemed so far off that it never bothered me, I knew that’s what my family expected me to do eventually and I guess I saw it as something I’d do when I settled down with a family. In another ten or fifteen years maybe.’
‘That’s why you seemed fine with it the last time we met,’ she said. ‘You told me about the practice then, but I’ve got to be honest, you seemed a shedload more positive about it all then than you are now.’
He nodded, offered her a rueful smile.
‘Last time we met I was just qualifying. I was so wrapped up in that I wasn’t really thinking ahead. Since then I’ve done foundation training, had time working in A&E, as much on the frontline as you can be in this country. ‘It confirmed my own ambitions.’
She was looking at him steadily.
‘You wanted to work abroad,’ she said.
He nodded.
‘I want to make a difference. Work for a charity for a while, maybe in war-affected areas, or where there’s been a national disaster. Somewhere I could really feel I was doing something to help.’
‘And have you ever discussed it with your father?’
He pushed his food around on the plate. How many times had he come close to broaching that subject? He’d put it off so many times.
‘I didn’t see the need initially, I thought I’d get my training out of the way first, then have a talk to him about my longer term plans. But then he had a stroke last year and he just hasn’t properly recovered. He went back to work, downsized his hours, but he wants to retire now and make the most of his health.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t blame him for that. And of course he believes it won’t affect the practice because he has the next Henley waiting in line to step up to the plate and take over.’
‘You?’
‘Exactly. How can I tell him I’m not up for that now when I’ve spent nearly thirty years with that as my life plan? He’s been through so much this past year, and my mother too, supporting him. He’s so proud and happy that I’ll be taking over. I don’t want to upset him and set him back. I’m meant to be taking the helm in the New Year.’
‘And you don’t really feel like cracking out the champagne.’
He shook his head slowly.
‘Being a doctor is what I wanted. Being a village GP is what’s expected of me.’
He stood up from the table, tugged her up next to him. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, burying his hand in her hair. She curled her arms around him, understanding that maybe this was what he wanted from her, needed from her. Distraction. And that was OK, she could do distraction, it had its own appeal for her, especially at Christmas time when everyone moved in family groups and had their own exciting plans. Wasn’t distraction partly what flings were all about?
And then he was stepping away. She stared at him, confused, as he reached for her coat, discarded on the back of a chair.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I thought you were going shopping?’ He helped her into it.
‘I was.’
‘Want company?’
She stared at him as he opened the door for her and then followed him down the passage to the stairs, her heavy boots sinking into the thick pile carpet, confusion rising in her mind. So it wasn’t just about sex then? Unless he found sightseeing an on-par distraction.
***
‘For someone who’s here on a Christmas shopping weekend, you don’t seem massively keen on shopping,’ he remarked, as yet another department store’s sparkly festive window display failed to entice her inside. Women and shopping were in his experience hard to keep apart and yet they’d stopped for coffee twice, not to mention lunch, and still she hadn’t bought a thing.
She didn’t really do London pace either, strolling along Oxford Street and letting hordes of shoppers pour around them.
She smiled.
‘I feel a bit bad, spending all the shopping money when Liz is the one who won the prize,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll post it to her. Not that I’m mad keen on shopping anyway.’ She glanced sideways at a window display, hampers filled with champagne and chocolates and luxury food. ‘Liz had a massive list of people to buy for. Nieces and nephews and cousins coming out of her ears. I don’t really have all of that.’
Her voice was matter of fact.
‘What about your parents?’ he said. ‘Won’t you see them over the holiday?’
She laughed mirthlessly as she came to a brief standstill outside a jewellery shop.
‘That’s nice isn’t it,’ she said, pointing at the silver display in the window. She didn’t meet his gaze, instead looking through the glass at the bangles and bracelets and rings. ‘I don’t see my father at all. Haven’t done for years. And my mother will be on a package holiday somewhere hot. Tenerife maybe.’ She glanced sideways at him and began walking again.