And the warmth of that smile…Was something going on between them? He searched his memory. Wasn’t Mick Salmond married? What the hell did Jodie think she was doing, having an affair with a married man?
‘Dr Price,’ he said stiffly, joining them. ‘I trust I’m not late.’
‘No. I was early.’
‘For once,’ Mick said, teasing her.
‘Huh. I’m not late all the time.’
‘Only on a day with a Y in it,’ the nurse retorted with a grin.
‘Yeah, yeah. Hey, Mick’s got some fabulous news.’ She dug her companion in the ribs. ‘Go on, tell him, before I burst.’
‘News?’ Sam echoed, frowning.
Mick beamed. ‘I’m going to be a dad!’
‘Congratulations.’ Sam forced the word out. Hadn’t he come to terms with this years ago? So why could those six little words still hurt him so much, the six words he’d never be able to say himself?
And why was Jodie going to burst? Was she the one expecting Mick’s baby?
The thought was like a physical blow. He felt winded, sick.
‘Shelley’s going to make a brilliant mum,’ Jodie said. ‘And she’s asked me to be godmother.’
Shelley? Godmother? The fog cleared and Sam suddenly realised what was going on. Jodie wasn’t having a baby. She was just excited for her friends and delighted at being asked to be godmother. So when it came to her own babies, she’d—
‘When it’s your turn,’ Mick said to Jodie with a grin, echoing Sam’s tortured thoughts, ‘I bet you’ll never get any housework or anything done. You’ll spend the whole day playing with your kids.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Observing them at the same time. And you’ll write it up as a study paper when they’re in bed.’
Jodie rolled her eyes. ‘I will not. I’m not that bad, Mick.’
‘Yes, you are, Jo-jo. Look at the way you are with the kids on the ward. You even come in on your days off to play with some of them. You’ll be ten times worse with your own,’ he teased.
‘No, I won’t. I’ll be just like any other mum.’
‘As if!’ he scoffed. ‘I can see you with half a dozen.’
Jodie chuckled. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘So how many are you planning?’
She shrugged. ‘Depends.’ Her face softened. ‘One of each would be nice.’
‘You mean, so you get to play with the trains and the doll’s house?’ he teased.
‘Let’s p-l-a-y,’ Jodie teased back.
Just like any other mum. The words reverberated inside Sam’s head, numbing his senses. Just like any other mum. Meaning that Jodie, despite her protests at Mario’s, was planning to have children one day. One of each would be nice. Taking it for granted that she could have children—and so could her future husband.
‘Can’t you just see what our Jodie’ll be like with her kids, Mr Taylor?’ Mick asked, laughing.
‘Yes,’ Sam said shortly. He could just see Jodie with her arm round a three-year-old, reading him a story and getting him to act out one of the speaking parts while the baby was curled up asleep on her lap. I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down… He could imagine only too clearly the softness in her face, the deep enduring love of a mother in her eyes as she cuddled her children.
A stab of something—pain or envy—lanced through him as he listened to them talking about their future children. It amazed him how easily they could talk about their plans. If anyone had asked him, the words would have stuck in his throat. I can’t have babies. I’m infertile.
He became aware that Mick was talking again. ‘I dunno who called it morning sickness. Shelley gets it in the evenings.’ As if he’d sensed the message behind the sharp look Sam had given him, Mick continued, ‘I would have stayed with her to hold her hand and mop her face and what have you, but she wanted me to video the revue so she doesn’t miss out on it.’
‘Indeed,’ Sam said brusquely.
‘Mick wr—’ Jodie stopped abruptly, suddenly realising she’d been about to blurt out that Mick had written the revue. ‘Shall we go and sit down, Mr Taylor?’ She didn’t quite dare use his first name. Not when he was back in Mr Frosty mode. And why the sudden freeze? Something was obviously bugging Sam…but what?
I’ll be just like any other mum…One of each would be nice…
The words echoed round and round in Sam’s head as if his mind were stuck on continuous-loop replay, and he couldn’t stop it, even though it was torture. And the dreams he’d started entertaining about Jodie crumbled into dust.
He sat locked in misery until he realised that Jodie was shuffling in her seat, looking distinctly nervous. Then he realised why: the revue. It had been going on for ten minutes and he hadn’t even noticed.
He forced his attention to the stage. Yes, there was Mr Frosty: a consultant in a formal suit, a white coat and a snowman’s head, with an expressionless mouth, large grey eyes and a big carrot for a nose.
Stuart Henderson, one of the senior house officers, was playing Mr Frosty and had Sam’s mannerisms down to a T. Sam found himself laughing at the way various nurses pretended to be overcome with heat and Mr Frosty cooled them down by blasting snow at them. Jodie visibly relaxed when she saw Sam laugh. He found himself relaxing, too. Maybe he was reading too much into all this, overreacting. Hadn’t Angela always said he was too serious?
Finally there was the pièce de résistance—something Jodie obviously hadn’t expected, by her gasp of surprise followed by a giggle—the pantomime dog. One of the auxiliaries had made herself up like an English springer spaniel and trotted onto the stage, dropping a ball on the patient’s bed and saying, ‘Let’s play!’ She bounded up to every other actor on the stage—‘doctor’ and ‘patient’—saying, ‘Let’s play! It’s good for you. Let’s play!’
‘Hoist with your own petard?’ Sam whispered in her ear.
‘Deservedly.’ Though she didn’t look cross or embarrassed by the lampooning—just amused. In her shoes, Angela would have stormed off in a huff.
When the revue finished, Sam gave some of the loudest applause. He also collared Mick when they’d both helped to shift the chairs out of the way of the dancing area.
‘I…er…hope you weren’t offended,’ Mick said, shuffling his feet slightly.
‘If it weren’t for your impending fatherhood,’ Sam said coolly, ‘I’d be suggesting that you consider a change in career.’
Mick looked completely crestfallen, and Jodie—who’d joined them and had overheard Sam’s comment—was clearly about to jump to his defence when Sam added, ‘Your comic timing’s brilliant and you’ve an eye for detail and mannerisms. But nursing’s a steadier job than scriptwriting, so I’d stick with the day job for now. Besides, we’d all miss you too much on the ward if you went off to London.’
Mick stared at the consultant, open-mouthed. ‘For a minute there, I thought you were going to…’ He tailed off awkwardly.
‘Freeze you?’ Sam gave a rueful smile. ‘Message received and understood.’
‘Thanks for being such a good sport about it,’ Mick said.
‘Hmm. Well, another lesson’s been drummed into me tonight.’ With a sidelong glance at Jodie, he explained, ‘Play’s good for you.’
Jodie’s