But with sudden clarity he’d realised that Emily would be unlikely to leave her daughter unattended, except for work, when they lived together. So it had to be tomorrow or the next night or not at all. He smiled to himself. Perhaps her doctor could keep Annie in an extra night for rest. Bad doctor.
He didn’t know why he was so sure there was no man in Emily’s life, but she had the look of an untouched woman, and he trusted his instincts. She said she did not date. At least that instinct had been correct. A date would be good for her.
She hadn’t said yes but that made it all more interesting. The degree of anticipation he could feel building already made him smile. He’d brushed off the need for appreciation and commitment, had had it leached out of him throughout his dark childhood, but a harmless dalliance could hurt no one and he would give much for Emily Cooper to look on his invitation with approval. But not until tomorrow would he find out.
Emily’s night passed quickly and thankfully without time for the distraction of Marco D’Arvello’s unexpected invitation. June’s premature contractions settled, but the arrival of two women in labour, one after the other, left little time for her to work out how she was going to turn him down.
When Emily finished her shift the sun shone through the windshield straight into her eyes as she drove home to the little cottage above the pier at Balmain East she’d inherited from her gran.
On night duty public transport didn’t work. Through the days she caught ferries. She couldn’t actually see Sydney harbour from her windows but the swish of the wash on the shore from passing boats floated in her window at night as she dressed for work.
Annie was pacing the front veranda as she waited for her mother to arrive home.
‘Why did you have to be late, today of all days?’
Emily carried her bag into the house and tried not to sigh. ‘We’ve been busy. I didn’t dawdle for the fun of it.’
Annie dropped her complaints and hugged her mother warmly. ‘Sorry. I’m nervous …’ she twisted her fingers … and started to worry we’d be late.’ She shook her head. ‘And baby was awake and moving most of the night. It’s almost as if she’s nervous too.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Babies pick up on their mother’s mood.’
Annie tilted her head and studied her mother. ‘Well, I can see you need a cup of tea so maybe I can pick up yours too. I made you raisin toast!’ It was a large statement. In case Emily didn’t get the significance she added, ‘Even though I’m starving myself because I have to fast.’
Emily was pleased to see after the initial stress Annie had calmed down. And was being nice. Though the last thing she wanted to do was eat. Her stomach was in knots about Annie’s hospital visit and impending anaesthetic for both her and her tiny granddaughter. ‘Thank you for that. Saves me a few minutes while I shower and dress.’
Three hours later Emily put down the crossword. The surgery seemed to be taking for ever. The waiting-room magazines needed to be tossed into the bin and replaced. Still, Emily had flicked through them all. She’d chewed her nails down to the quick. Now she was onto the edge of her finger. Come on!
At ten-thirty the theatre doors swung open and Marco D’Arvello strode through them. It seemed his focussed glance searched until he found her sitting along the wall.
She bolted upright off her chair as if on a spring. In seconds he was at her side. ‘It is good. All went well.’
Emily sagged. Thank God. A strange buzzing began in her ears and her face felt funny, numb. The room began to tilt. His arms came up to steady her shoulders and he steered her back into a sitting position. His head dipped towards her with concern. ‘Sit. Not so fast. Have you eaten?’
‘What?’ The room stopped its slow turn and the humming noises in her ears faded away. She closed and opened her eyes slowly.
‘Emily? Have you eaten?’
His hands left her shoulders and she felt strangely bereft, almost tempted to catch them back. ‘Must have got up too fast.’
‘Si.’
Had she eaten? She couldn’t remember. ‘Um. Raisin toast three hours ago.’
‘Come. We will go for a cocoa and some more of your raisin toast before you drive home and go to bed. Annie is not yet awake but will be back in the ward in about thirty minutes. I will return with you then to see her.’
Now she felt silly. Imagine if she’d fainted at his feet. ‘I’m fine. Just stood too fast. I’m sure you have better things to do than drink cocoa with me.’
‘I cannot think of one.’ He shrugged with that Latin assurance Italian men seemed to have and her brain couldn’t function enough to think of a good excuse to decline. She had to admit the thought of not being alone for another thirty minutes was attractive.
He went on. ‘I believe the prognosis for both your Annie and our friend June’s babies has improved significantly. I can do no more for the moment.’ He searched her face and seemed satisfied. ‘Your colour has improved. But another half an hour of waiting without food will not help.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come.’
Bossy man. Though she was feeling better. ‘You say that a lot.’
He looked puzzled. ‘What is that?’
She dropped her chin and deepened her voice in imitation. ‘Come!’
He inclined his head. ‘I will attempt to refrain.’
They smiled at each other. Such quaint speech patterns and it seemed he could cope with teasing. Luckily. What had got into her? She picked up her bag and glanced at her watch.
‘Then thank you. A hot drink would be nice. I start to get cold when I need to sleep. Just twenty minutes and I’ll come back.’
‘Si. Your daughter should be back in the ward soon after that.’
They turned a few heads when they walked into the tea shop in the hospital grounds. Or Marco did, Emily thought as necks swivelled. She didn’t actually know many of the staff, having worked in Maternity on nights most of her career, and not a frequent visitor to the kiosk either, but she’d bet someone would recognise them and spread the word.
This place was a minefield of gossip. Another reason she preferred nights.
There was Head of Surgery Finn Kennedy and Evie Lockheart, her friend she was to have coffee with later in the week with Lily. Evie was hospital royalty and heiress to the Lockheart fortune.
Evie and Finn sat, head to head, engrossed in a deep and meaningful conversation, and to her surprise Evie slid her hand across the table and gripped Finn’s hand. Emily couldn’t help wondering if something terrible had happened.
Evie’s father had been kind to her all those years ago when she’d been a sixteen-year-old mother of an ill prem baby, and he’d been the one who’d suggested she would make a great nurse. He’d even provided the reference needed to start work as an unskilled nurse assistant until she could manage the extra burden of study. She liked Evie.
Finn, she was just happy to stay out of his way. He was a grouch. The hospital’s most experienced surgeon, though rumours had begun to circulate that he suffered some kind of medical problem that was threatening his career.
Emily had enough on her plate. She didn’t want to get anywhere near more drama and she steered Marco to the furthest corner of the kiosk.
More heads swivelled their way and instead of ducking her head she lifted her chin and smiled and nodded back.
Maybe she was sick of being boring. Ungossipworthy. Now she was