Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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that, yes, she was referring to that night. ‘Bridgette, it was months ago.’ She swallowed, because it was actually just a few weeks; she’d counted them. ‘We shared one night together.’ How easily he dismissed it, relegated it, reduced it to a long-ago event that had meant nothing—something so trivial that it didn’t even merit a moment’s reflection. Except she was quite sure that wasn’t true.
‘Thanks for the e-mail,’ she said, to prove it had been more than that, that he had come back to her door, had later that night sent her a photo, yet he frowned as if trying to place it and then he had the nerve to give a wry laugh.
‘Oh, that!’
‘You got my e-mail address?’
‘On some stupid group one from Vince and…’ He gave a shrug, clearly couldn’t remember Jasmine’s name. ‘Just clearing out my inbox, Bridgette.’ She felt like a stalker, some mad, obsessed woman, and he clearly must be thinking the same. ‘It was one night—hardly something to base your career path on. Don’t give it another thought. There really is no problem.’
‘Good.’
‘And as for awkward, it’s not in the least. This is how I am at work.’ And then he corrected himself. ‘This is how I am—ask anyone.’ He gave a very thin smile. ‘I’m not exactly known for small talk. It has nothing to do with what took place. It really is forgotten.’
And over the next few days he proved his point. She saw that Dr Dominic Mansfield was cool and distant with everyone. He was mainly polite, sometimes dismissive, and just never particularly friendly. There was an autonomous air to him that wasn’t, Bridgette realised, solely reserved for her. Not that she should mind—nothing had shifted her heart. She was still way too raw to contemplate a relationship. And the patients, or rather their parents, didn’t seem to mind the directness of his words in the least. In fact, as Bridgette wheeled Carla up later in the week for a visit with her newborn, Carla admitted it was Dr Mansfield’s opinion she sought the most about her daughter.
‘I don’t want a doctor who tries to spare my feelings,’ Carla said as they waited for the lift. ‘He tells it like it is, which Frank and I appreciate.
‘Mind you…’ she smiled as Bridgette wheeled her in ‘…he’s not exactly chatty. Gorgeous to look at he may be, but you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with him.’ Whether she agreed or not, Bridgette smiled back, pleased to see her patient’s humour returning, along with colour to her cheeks. It really had been a hellish ride for Carla. It had been four days until she had been well enough to see her baby, and there was still, for Francesca, a long road ahead.
‘Carla.’ Dominic gave a nod to the patient as Bridgette wheeled her over.
‘Is everything okay?’ Carla asked, anxious to see him standing by Francesca’s incubator.
‘She’s had a good morning, by all reports,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m just checking in.’
He gave Bridgette the briefest nod of acknowledgement then moved on to the next incubator. He wasn’t, she now realised, being rude or dismissive towards her. It was the way Dominic was to everyone.
It hurt more than she had time to allocate to it. Her days were so busy, and more and more Courtney was asking her to have Harry. It was hard trying to achieve some sort of routine and work full-time with a toddler—a toddler who worryingly didn’t toddle very much, one who seemed far happier to sit with his building blocks, happier in his own world than hers. But sometimes at night, when all she should do was close her eyes and get some much-needed sleep, it was then that Bridgette’s mind wandered. It was on those occasions that she realised not so much what she’d lost but more what she’d been privy to that night.
A side to Dominic that was rare indeed.
‘HARRY!’ Bridgette gave him a wide smile but Harry didn’t look up. He was engrossed with the pile of bricks in front of him. ‘How has he been today?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Busy building!’ Mary answered. ‘He loves his bricks.’
Bridgette saw her own fingers clench around the pen as she signed Harry out for the day, saw the white of her knuckles as her brain tightened just a fraction, wondering if Mary’s comment was friendly chatter or a more professional observation. She was being paranoid, Bridgette told herself, seeing problems where there were surely none, but as she picked up Harry she wished, and not for the first time, that Harry was just a little bit more pleased to see her, a little more receptive.
There couldn’t be something wrong with him. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that she panicked at the thought—it was Courtney’s reaction that troubled Bridgette, or rather Courtney’s lack of reaction towards her son. Her sister wasn’t exactly coping now, let alone if her son had special needs.
Special needs.
It was the first time that she had actually said it, even if only in her mind, and instantly she shoved it aside because there was just so much to deal with at the moment. She had so many things to contend with, without adding the unthinkable to the pile. But she had to approach it.
‘How do you think he’s doing?’ she asked Mary.
‘Grand.’ She beamed. ‘Mind, he does have a bit of a temper—’ she tickled him under the chin ‘—if one of the other littlies knocks over his bricks.’
‘What about his talking?’ Bridgette looked at Mary, who just smiled at Harry.
‘He’s not much of a talker,’ Mary said, ‘but, then, he’s just been here a couple of weeks and is still settling in so maybe he’s a bit shy. If you’re concerned, though…’ Mary was lovely, but she told Bridgette what she already knew, that maybe his mum should take him to his GP if she was worried that he wasn’t reaching his milestones.
‘How is Mum?’ Mary asked, because, despite Courtney collecting him a couple of times, it mainly fell to Bridgette.
‘She’s okay,’ Bridgette answered. ‘Though I’ll be bringing Harry in for the next couple of days. She’s got some job interviews lined up in Bendigo and is staying there with friends for a few nights.’
‘Bendigo!’ Mary’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a good few hours away.’
‘Well, it’s early days,’ Bridgette said, ‘but it’s good that she’s looking for work.’
Bridgette had mixed feelings. Yes, she wanted her sister to get a job and to make a fresh start, but the thought of her, or rather Harry, so far away had Bridgette in a spin. She was doing her best not to dwell on it as she left the crèche.
‘Excuse me!’ She heard the irritation in the man’s voice as she, a woman who wasn’t looking where she was going, collided with him as she walked out of the daycare centre. And then Dominic looked down, saw who he was talking to, saw who she was holding, and she was quite sure that he frowned as he gazed into Harry’s eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same sludgy grey as hers, and though he quickly moved his features to impassive and gave her a very brief nod, she could feel the tension. They walked down a long corridor, Bridgette several steps behind him. As he headed out through the ambulance bay and turned left, it was clear they were both heading for the car park.
She should have managed to avoid him, given that she now walked incredibly slowly, but one of the security guards halted him and they spoke for a moment. No matter how Bridgette dawdled, no matter how hard she tried not to catch up, the security guard gave him a cheery farewell at the very second Bridgette walked past and, like it or not, for a moment or two there was no choice but to fall in step alongside him.
‘Is that why you had to dash off?’
It was the first time he acknowledged he even recalled the details of that night, that morning, the slice