Harry grinned. ‘This from a woman who doesn’t even want to come out with me for dinner.’
‘I’m not talking about dating or romance,’ Marnie said. ‘I’m talking about me moving in and, between us, taking care of the children. Harry, you’re in the eye of the storm at the moment but in a week’s time you’ll have your lady back to help with the children, Juan will be working…If by then you still want to take yourself off and become hand surgeon of the year…’ She made a little joke and then stopped because actually she was completely serious. ‘My moving in for a week would give you a pause.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because, I don’t want the department that I’ve just started running to fall apart.’
‘I can’t drag you from your home.’
‘It’s hardly a home,’ Marnie said. ‘I’ve only been here five minutes!’
She simply didn’t get attached to anything, Harry realised, but it would be so very easy to get attached to her, and he wasn’t just thinking about himself when he spoke.
‘It would be too confusing for the children,’ he said, because, for all his faults, he had managed to keeps his flings well away from them, and Marnie in his bed for a week…He shook his head but then realised that for Marnie this was strictly business.
She really could separate the two.
‘I’m not going to be sleeping with you, Harry, especially if there’s a chance we are going to continue working together. There’ll be no confusion.’ Marnie smiled. ‘I only want you professionally, Harry. It will be a working arrangement.’
‘I can’t ask you to take time off work to look after my kids.’
‘Who said anything about that? I have the weekend off already, a day off in lieu of nights on Monday, and I’ll take a management day on Tuesday and sort out those bloody rosters once and for all from home.’
His mind was turning faster. It was maybe, possibly doable.
‘I could do a couple of nights on the days you’re working. If I can sit down with Helen and work out some shifts…’
‘We can work it,’ Marnie said. ‘It’s just one week. I need a doctor for my department, Harry. I have no intention of failing.’
He looked at Marnie, sitting on the bed, the tiniest yet strongest woman he had ever met, and the most determined too. ‘I doubt you could.’
‘I FEEL LIKE Mary Poppins,’ Marnie said as Harry opened his front door.
‘Oh, you’re no Mary Poppins.’ Harry grinned, taking her case. He was looking more rumpled than usual and that clean-shaven look of yesterday was fading. ‘Come in. Charlotte’s just starting to realise that chickenpox isn’t so much fun after all.’
No, Marnie was no Mary Poppins. Mary was a good girl who didn’t notice things like Harry’s bum as she followed him through to the lounge, but, then, she’d never seen Harry in just a T-shirt and jeans and barefoot too. Oh, she’d seen him in a suit, in scrubs and stark naked, but there was something very attractive about him in a T-shirt because it showed off his very flat stomach and in jeans his legs just looked longer.
No, she was no Mary Poppins, but Marnie was still a good girl because she didn’t give that bottom a pinch as they walked and she kept her thoughts well to herself too—butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth as she gave his children a smile.
‘This is Marnie,’ Harry introduced her. ‘You both met her at the hospital.’
Adam looked up and smiled and said hello, but Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. ‘A nurse isn’t a nanny.’
‘I’m not a nanny,’ Marnie said. ‘I’m here to help look after you so that Daddy can work.’
‘Have you looked after children before?’
‘Charlotte,’ Harry warned.
‘It’s fine,’ Marnie said. ‘I don’t mind being interviewed—I’d want to know who was looking after me too.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘I’ve looked after plenty of children and I have lots of nieces and nephews and many younger brothers, so I’ve have a bit more of a head start than most.’
Harry showed her around—it was a lovely old home, though the stairs creaked terribly as Harry lifted her case upstairs.
‘It’s a beautiful home.’
‘It’s needs a demolition ball,’ Harry said. ‘It looks nice but everything needs fixing, apart from this…’
He opened a door and Marnie almost whimpered at the sight of a beautiful bathroom—it was completely white except for a few dots of dark tiles on the floor. ‘It’s the one thing that has been renovated,’ Harry said. ‘I think they gave up after that. I can’t wait to see the back of it.’
Marnie was surprised. Surely this home would be filled with memories and the last thing he would want was to let it go, but he must have read her confusion.
‘Oh, no…’ Harry shook his head. ‘We’d just sold our house and were looking for somewhere when Jill died…It was hell—the buyers had sold too and there was no getting out of it. I didn’t want the upheaval for the children.’
‘Poor things.’ It just poured out of her mouth. ‘I hated moving, more than anything, I hated leaving Ireland and then when we had to leave Perth…’ Marnie stopped. She didn’t really like talking about herself but she was just trying to say that she understood how hard it must have been for the children to move so close to losing their mum.
‘It wasn’t exactly great timing,’ Harry said when Marnie went quiet, ‘but there was no real choice, so I rented this. Your friend Dave put me onto it.’
‘Ah, Dave!’ Marnie gave a bitter smile.
‘It was supposed to be for six months…’ He turned round and there was Charlotte, standing at the top of the stairs watching them.
‘I’m itchy,’ she said.
‘I’ll just show Marnie her room and then I’ll come and put some cream on.’
They walked down the hall and he opened a door and put Marnie’s case inside. ‘I hope this is okay.’
‘It’s lovely.’ It was, a large room with an iron bed dressed in white linen and lovely wooden furnishings that mismatched perfectly.
Charlotte, who had followed them, stood in the doorway and watched as Harry showed Marnie how the dodgy windows worked. ‘Do you want to come in and help me put some things away?’ Marnie offered.
‘We’re not allowed in the nanny’s room,’ Charlotte said, and huffed off.
‘Fair enough,’ Marnie said.
‘She’s normally much more friendly.’
‘She’s normally not covered in spots,’ Marnie pointed out, as Harry, a touch awkward now, headed for the door. ‘Do you want to go through our diaries?’ Marnie suggested. ‘Get it out of the way?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll just unpack and I’ll be down.’
Marnie unpacked her case—it only took a moment. She put her clothes in the wardrobe and hung her dressing gown up on the door and sorted out her toiletries. She put Declan’s photo in the drawer of the bedside table. She didn’t want questions if the children came peeking, but she couldn’t bear to leave him at home, then she headed downstairs.
It