‘You’re onto it.’ Max was heading towards a large fridge. ‘You sound like you could cope with anything, in fact.’
‘It’s part of what I like about locum work. You never quite know what’s round the next corner. I’ve been out to remote islands off Scotland in a boat. I did a stint with an air rescue service in Canada once too, and our agency specialises in insurance company work when an injured or ill traveller needs to get brought back home. I went out to an oil rig in a helicopter once.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘I love it. But it can be daunting as well. That’s how I know that sometimes you need to focus on just the next step in front of you and block out the big picture.’
‘I think I’d rather be on the way out to an oil rig than wondering what I’m going to do with unhappy children in the middle of the night.’
Emma took the glass of wine Max had poured for her. Her smile was one of both appreciation and, hopefully, some reassurance. The softening of his features and that hint of a smile told her that it seemed to have helped.
‘Come in by the fire for a minute. I need to make that safe for the night and the whisky’s in there too.’
And maybe he needed a bit more reassurance? Emma could provide that. For the sake of Max and his father. And those beautiful children. She’d been perfectly genuine when she’d told Max that the children hadn’t been any trouble to look after and she was quite hopeful that she wasn’t going to be kept awake tonight by ghosts from the past. Even when she had been helping Max bathe and dress the baby she had been able to keep that door in her own heart firmly closed. These children were like patients. Helping them was just an unexpected—and temporary—twist in her professional life.
It was no great hardship to take a few minutes to sit and sip an excellent wine in front of the fireplace, either. Despite the size of this impressive room, the flames created a flickering light and warmth that made the area directly in front of it seem homely. Almost intimate.
‘So how long have you been working as a locum?’ Max asked when they had chosen to sit at either end of the big couch rather than use the wing chairs.
‘A bit over four years, now.’ She had been offered bereavement leave but Emma had found she needed to get back to the job she loved so much, even though she’d been conscious of how hard it was going to be to work amongst young children and babies for a while. She’d learned to cope faster than she’d expected, however. She’d built those walls and kept going but some of the joy had gone and, as the months wore on, she’d known that if she wanted to move forward with her life and reclaim that joy, she needed to make some big changes. Hearing about someone’s exciting career as a locum had happened at just the right time.
‘If I’d ever thought about it, I would have said you’d be a consultant paediatrician by now.’
Emma tilted her head but didn’t say anything. She could have agreed with him and said that was exactly what she’d been planning on being but, if she told him that, she’d have to tell him why it hadn’t happened and she didn’t want to go there. It was easier to focus on what else he’d just said that implied he’d never given her another thought after the time they’d worked together.
It was inevitable that that took her mind back to their kiss. The one she’d never forgotten…
Max broke the silence. ‘I guess none of us know what twists and turns life has in store for us. We just know that they’re going to happen—usually at what seems to be the worst possible time.’
‘Mmm.’ Emma could certainly agree with that. For a long moment, they both sipped their drinks and the silence was companionable. She knew she might be taking a risk that could destroy this pleasant ambience but Emma was curious. There was so much about Max that she’d never known. Would never have guessed.
‘How old were you when your mum died, Max?’ she asked gently.
His glance was swift. Intense. ‘So Jenny did tell you? Or was it Maggie?’
‘They both told me a little. Not much. Maggie told me about your brother. Jenny said something about your mother.’
‘Something about the “Curse of the Cunninghams”, perhaps?’
Embarrassed, Emma dropped her gaze. She’d hate Max to think she’d been gossiping about his family.
‘It’s okay,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I know people like to talk and it’s no wonder it’s all resurfacing now. Here it is, Christmas again, and tragedy number three strikes the Cunningham family.’
‘That should be it, then.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Bad things are supposed to come in threes.’ Emma bit her lip. The tragedies that had befallen this family were nothing to make light of but all she wanted to do was offer…something. Comfort wasn’t possible but perhaps some hope? ‘Christmas will be different this year.’ She offered a smile this time. ‘I’m sure the tree will just be the first of all the rules that Ben knows about.’
Max snorted. ‘Christmas rules are just part of the commercial hype that’s all this season is all about. Reasons to make you spend more and more money.’
‘You think?’
‘I don’t imagine this is the first Christmas you’ve worked so you know about the effects of the kind of stress it creates. People drink too much. Domestic violence goes through the roof. It’s marketed as a promise for peace and love for everyone who bothers to follow all those “rules” but anyone who stands back far enough can see it for what it is.’
There was a defensiveness in his tone that made Emma think he was protesting too much. Because he’d had to—to protect himself? Because it was so much harder if you let yourself sink into what was missing from a celebration of family? She, of all people, could understand that.
‘I don’t believe that,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not saying it’s not a particularly difficult time for a lot of people but, if you’re lucky, it’s an opportunity to hit pause for a day. To celebrate the things that are really important—like family and friends. And, yes, we do that by buying stuff and eating special food but that’s okay too, because it’s all part of what makes it special. And they’re not “rules”. They’re traditions and every family makes their own. I expect Ben is holding onto the ones he knows about as tightly as he can because he’s lost just about everything else.’
Emma had to stop talking then, so that she could swallow the lump in her throat. She could feel Max’s gaze resting on her.
‘So…why aren’t you with your family, then? You do have one, don’t you?’
Emma nodded. ‘In Italy. We have quite different traditions there. Like the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve—the Festa dei Sette Pesci. And there’s always a nativity scene in the house and someone gets chosen to put the baby Jesus in the crib on Christmas Eve.’ She let her breath out in a sigh. ‘I haven’t been back home for a few years, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘As a locum, it can be one of the busiest times of the year because so many people want time off to be with their families.’ Emma closed her eyes for a heartbeat, ignoring the faint alarm bell in her head. She had, albeit unintentionally, stepped into a private part of Max Cunningham’s life. It was only fair if he knew a little more about her, wasn’t it? ‘Plus, I had a pretty rough Christmas a few years back and I needed some time out. Especially from my family, who would have insisted on talking about it endlessly.’
‘What happened?’
‘Um…well,