So what does that leave me with? My internet searches on the subject suggested I buy a dog to cement our love. The problem with that is the advice doesn’t take into account guardianship of a psychotic cat. Smalls would probably smother a puppy.
The weather is brisk. The sky is bright but the temperature this morning is bitterly cold. Winter is well and truly here. I’m looking forward to moving into our new home. It’s not as grand as this one but it’s nice. And it has a wood-fuelled fire. I’m looking forward to evenings of being peeled from my pyjamas by the glow of firelight.
I climb into my little car and wave at Mrs Hoffman as I reverse out of the drive. Standing at her open front door, she looks a little agitated, but I’m late for work after Ben decided he should join me for my morning shower. Water conservation is apparently very important to him. As is making sure I’m dirty enough for him to clean. My cheeks flush with the memory as I drive slowly along the road. I’m sure whatever ails Ms H, Ben can help. It’s not like me to shirk my responsibilities as a doctor, a neighbour, or even human being, but I know she has a soft spot for Ben. Who hasn’t? Whatever she needs, he’ll help.
I slow at the crossroads, my eyes scanning the street. I’ll miss living here almost as much as the yummy mummies will miss seeing Ben out on his morning run, his strong, muscular thighs feeling more than just the burn. Because come on, he has to sense their eyes following him. They’re not exactly subtle about their perving.
~*~
Today, I have my last locum shift at St Lotte’s. As of next week, I’ll be solvent. Maybe even a little affluent! I’ve mad a good return on the house and even after I pay Liam his share, and force Ben to take what I owe him, I’ll have spare. When means I can just go back to my regular hours. You know, sixty or so.
It’s a good job. I love my job. Well, when I’m not hating it, at least.
‘Dr Ballantine—Penny. Can I have a word with you for a moment.’
Mr Travers, AKA Lord Travers, AKA Dr Pussy, calls my name as I make my way through the ward. Turning, I follow him into a vacant office that I’m almost certain isn’t his.
‘Shut the door behind you, would you?’
I do so as he leans his long body against the edge of the desk. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. I’ve asked to speak with you because my wife is expecting our second child sometime in the not too distant future.’
‘Congratulations,’ I offer hesitantly. I’m not sure what any of this has to do with me. I can’t imagine he’d want me at the delivery. A man of his stature would have contacts to staff with much more experience and seniority than me.
‘Thank you,’ he replies with a short smile. He folds his arms across his chest, emphasising the fact that he doesn’t look like a doctor at all. He looks more like a male model. Or a European aristocrat. ‘As we already have one child under a year old,’ he says, ‘life is about to become interesting.’ He glances at his shoes, almost wryly amused.
‘Yes, I imagine.’ And imagine is all I can do. My experience with children is limited to helping them escape their mother’s bodies. I’ve no idea what to do with them from there.
‘Which brings me to my proposition.’ My head snaps up. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m not auditioning for a mistress.’
Let me just say, I haven’t exactly become immune to Mr Travers’ sense of humour. On any given day, I’m not sure what he’s going to say. And right now, I don’t know what to say so opt to say nothing at all.
‘I’m looking for someone to shadow me. Someone who’ll eventually step into my shoes. My father passed away some time ago and left me with a lot of fucking responsibilities.’
Wow. Sweary Mr Travers.
‘What with the constant renovations on one albatross of a house and the business of trying to run the other as a place grown men and women pretend to kill each other all in the name of team building, I don’t have time to run my practice the way I’d prefer.
‘My God. Renovating sucks.’ I’ve no idea what the rest of that is all about.
‘It does suck.’ He appears to be hiding a smile.
‘I’ve found it’s just easier to get professionals in. You can’t do everything yourself.’
‘Indeed. Though I’m sure the National Trust wouldn’t allow me. Though it’s not so much renovation as preventing a five-hundred-year-old wreck from falling to the ground.
Oh, hell. I’m talking about renovating a house in suburban London while he’s talking about maintaining some great nobleman’s palace, most likely. I feel my cheeks heat immediately.
‘So, that brings me to this. And I thought I’d speak to you first before I went to HR.’
‘What? I mean, I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Come on, Penny,’ he says, smiling wider. ‘You’re better than this. In fact, you’re one of the most promising doctors I’ve had the pleasure to come to know.’
‘I am?’
‘You’re efficient and caring, you have just the right amount of hubris which, let’s face it, is a prerequisite for any kind of surgery. If you’re going to be sticking your hands in another human to rummage around, as a patient, I’m sure you’d like to think your doctor was confidence. But you also have humility. An intuition.’
‘I really don’t know what to say.’ And I can’t think. Just over six months ago I was drowning in debt and running myself ragged. I’d been dumped by the man who said he loved me and left to sell my soul to pay the bills. I saw no way out. But now? I have a man who loves me. A man who overcame his demons and fears to be with me. My commitment to the house is almost at an end, and now this man in front of me wants to offer me a job—a really fucking good job!
