Not that she would be here in winter, Marnie reminded herself. She would see this lease out, given she had been foolish enough to sign, but she would be finding herself a new home and Dave certainly wouldn’t be her agent of choice.
Marnie made her final trip to the car and pulled out her yoga mat, which would serve as her mattress tonight, a duvet and pillow, and a box of personal effects.
Marnie set out her toiletries in the now sparkling bathroom and had a shower Then headed to the main bedroom. There she put out her clothes for the morning and set up her bed for the night. Then she put her photos up on the mantelpiece.
First she put up the family favourite—Marnie and her parents with her five younger brothers, all together on the day Ronan had graduated.
Ronan, her youngest brother, was unashamedly Marnie’s favourite. She had been nearly eleven when he was born and Marnie had had a lot to do with raising him—changing his nappies, getting up to him at night, feeding him before she went to school. It was funny to think of Ronan now at twenty-one—he was a gorgeous geek who loved computers and playing the piano, though not necessarily in that order.
Marnie placed the photo above the fire and took out another. There she was, a fourteen-year-old Marnie with her best friend Siobhan on the day the Johnsons had left Ireland to emigrate to Perth, Australia, and start a new life. Though the two young girls were smiling in the photo, Marnie could see the tears in both their eyes—for Marnie and Siobhan it had been a terribly difficult time. Marnie hadn’t wanted to leave her home, her school, her dancing and her friends, especially Siobhan. Still, she had made the best of it and had started to make friends—only then her father’s work had dictated that the family again up sticks and move from Perth to Melbourne.
‘You’ll soon make new friends,’ her mother had again insisted.
Yes, Marnie had made new friends but none had come close to Siobhan.
Marnie chose wisely and so when she gave her heart it was for ever and she and Siobhan were still best friends nearly twenty years later. They shared daily emails and video-called often, as well as catching up every couple of years face to face. Marnie smiled as she put out the photo and was still smiling when she pulled out the last one—but maybe it had been a long day, because She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Marnie cried rarely and she hadn’t expected to feel that way today. She was tired, she reasoned, as she gazed on the familiar and much-loved photograph of an eighteen-year-old Marnie holding Declan.
Finally holding Declan.
It was such a bitter-sweet time because until he had been two weeks old Marnie had never got to hold him, though her body had ached to, her breasts leaking as much as her eyes as she’d peered into the incubator and craved the feeling of holding her son in her arms. Until the day of the photo his tiny body had been smothered in tubes and equipment but, when it had been deemed that nothing more could be done for Declan, they had all been taken away. She and Craig had been given a comfortable room away from the hustle and bustle of the neonatal unit and had had a few precious hours alone with him.
Her parents Marnie had allowed in only briefly.
‘There will be time for other babies.’ No, her mother hadn’t been insensitive enough to say it on that day. It had been said when Marnie had first told her she was pregnant—that there would be plenty of time for other babies later down the track had been a large portion of her mother’s advice.
No, there would be no other babies.
Declan was her son and he forever had her heart.
Marnie ran her finger over the image and felt not the cold of the glass but the soft warmth of her baby’s skin. She looked into his dark blue eyes that were so weary from fighting and, just as she did every night, Marnie said goodnight to him.
Setting the photo down, Marnie set her alarm for six and then settled down on her yoga mat to get ready for an uncomfortable night, sleeping on the floor.
Not that she minded.
Yes, Marnie had been through far worse.
‘I THINK YOU’VE already met Marnie…’ Lillian, the director of nursing, said as she introduced Marnie to Dr Vermont.
‘I have.’ The elderly doctor shook her hand and Marnie smiled back at him warmly. ‘We met at Marnie’s first interview. I was thrilled to hear that you had accepted the position,’ he added to Marnie. ‘Hopefully you can bring some order to the place.’
‘I have every intention to.’ Marnie smiled again. She had, on sight, liked Dr Vermont. He was old school and liked things done a certain way and had had no qualms in telling her such, which was exactly how Marnie liked to work.
‘Harry!’ Lillian called, and Marnie turned to the sight of Harry Worthington, fast realising that instead of his wild youth catching up with him, he had left it behind, only to improve. Rather than the scrubs she remembered him wearing, that tall, muscular physique was now dressed in a well-cut charcoal-grey suit. He seemed taller, a touch broader, but there was far from a paunch; if anything, he was slimmer than the Harry of yesteryear. He wasn’t quite perfection. It was no longer designer stubble that graced his jaw—Harry needed a good shave! He also needed to put on a tie. He had an unfinished look to him that ten minutes would soon take care of. Perhaps, though, the most surprising thing to see was that the once terribly sexy, laid-back Harry was now late and clearly rushing with a little boy and girl hanging off each hand as Lillian made the introductions.
‘This is Marnie Johnson, the new nurse unit manager. You didn’t manage to come in for her interviews.’
‘No, I was on night duty for the first and on a day off for the other,’ Harry explained, ‘but Dr Vermont has said many good things about you.’ He let go of his daughter and shook Marnie’s hand, albeit briefly, because the little girl, as soon as she was let loose, started to wander off.
‘Charlotte!’ Harry warned, giving a brief eye-roll to Marnie before retrieving his daughter’s hand. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You’re to stay with me.’
‘But I’m hungry.’
‘That’s because you didn’t eat your cornflakes,’ Harry said to his daughter as he returned to the group, and Marnie watched as Lillian’s lips pursed in disapproval. Marnie couldn’t see that there was an issue—clearly, Harry had just arrived for work and was taking his children to day care. It was hardly his fault that there was a group to meet him.
‘You and Marnie might already have met.’ Lillian pushed on with the conversation when really it would be far easier to make the introductions once Harry didn’t have his children with him. ‘Marnie, didn’t you train at Melbourne Central?’
Harry frowned. He looked at Marnie’s raven hair and china-blue eyes and couldn’t quite believe they might have worked alongside each other for three years and that he didn’t recognise her at all.
‘No,’ Marnie corrected Lillian. ‘I only did my first year of training at Melbourne Central. After that I transferred to the Royal.’ She turned to Harry. ‘I do remember you, though…’ Marnie said, and suppressed a smile at the slight flare of concern in his eyes—perhaps Harry might be a little uncomfortable with people who could remember him in his wilder days.
Perhaps, Marnie thought, noticing again, after all these years, his stunning green eyes, it was time for some fun. Dr Vermont was talking to Harry’s son and Lillian was briefly