“I know.” A smile pulled the corners of his mouth. “I could see the panic in your eyes. But you did a tremendous job with Tirana. Holding her hand making her laugh.” And it was true, Laura had a genuinely nice manner. Sympathetic but also capable, it had helped the girl trust she was in good hands.
“I was only modelling myself on you.” She gave him a nervous smile. “You were so confident and sure of yourself every time you told Tirana she was doing a great job. Every time you said ‘this is going very well, we’ll be done in no time at all,’ I tried to imitate your tone.”
He could get addicted to the admiration in her eyes. He could lie and let her think he was unflappable.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Her eyes widened with that little spark of fun he’d noticed before on the roof of the casemates. “A juicy secret?”
He inclined his head. “I was terrified too.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I had to concentrate on not letting my hands shake.”
“But you’re an obstetrician. Why…?”
“Obstetricians don’t deliver babies, usually. Not in the UK. Midwives are the experts there. We’re only called in when there’s a deviation from normal – when things go wrong and they need a C-Section or some other intervention. Besides.” He took another sip of is tea, debating whether he should say more. But he’d started so he may as well finish. “I haven’t been in a delivery room for nearly six years.”
Six years. How time flew. Even when not having any fun at all.
“What have you been doing, looking after ill-tempered old men?”
Her words made him grin but inside he could feel other words gathering, wanting to be spoken.
Not now. Tonight had been difficult enough, no need to weigh it down further. Instead he leaned back in his chair and watched her drink her tea. The shadows in the kitchen made her hair look almost black. The light from the small lamp shone on the top of her head.
“You have beautiful hair.” The words were out before he could stop them.
She coloured slightly; it made her look lovely.
“Iusedto have beautiful hair.” She touched the ends with her fingers. “I cut it all off.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. When she didn’t explain, he had to ask out loud, “Why?”
“Long story.” She spoke with the kind of tone people used when they meant,It’s a story I don’t want to tell you.
“Well, I think this looks beautiful too, very…” He searched for the word. “Gamine.”
“How can you have any energy left to flirt?”
It surprised a laugh out of him. Was he flirting? He’d been so out of touch, he’d forgotten what it felt like to flirt “Sorry. I didn’t mean any—”
“I know. It’s ok. We’ve both had a strange night.”
Rovena came in just then. As soon as he moved to stand in case he was needed, she waved him back to his chair. “Everything is fine and they are both asleep.”
Laura too jumped up. “Can I make you a drink?”
Apparently, she too had felt the sudden tension and was trying to change the subject. What had possessed him to talk about her hair? Of all the dangerous things to say.
Rovena looked tired but happy. “Yes, a drink is good but not tea. We need something to celebrate.”
She opened a cupboard above the sink and brought out a bottle of something reddish that looked homemade. Then from another cupboard, she produced three short glasses.
“Come.” She led them back to the sitting room. There was only one small sofa but Laura found a big cushion and sat on the floor. Adam had no choice but to take the sofa.
Rovena joined him, placing the three glasses on the coffee table. They were delicate, clear glass decorated with gold leaves near the rim. “I found these on eBay. My mother had a set just like them. Now probably lost or smashed. So I’m glad I bought this set.”
