The Accidental Romeo (11 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘I’
VE
BOOKED
T
HE
Langham.’

Marnie was trying to get Charlotte to brush her teeth when Matthew called.

Marnie loved The Langham—it was a beautiful hotel on the river and possibly her favourite place on earth, but not even the prospect of The Langham could soothe a rather awkward conversation.

‘Who’s that?’ Matthew asked, as a very demanding Charlotte called out for Marnie.

‘I’m just watching a friend’s children for a couple of days.’ She didn’t give him a moment to question it. ‘I’ll try to get there for six.’

‘Who were you speaking to?’ Charlotte asked, when Marnie hung up.

‘A friend,’ Marnie said. ‘And you should be paying more attention to your teeth than my phone calls—you didn’t do the back ones.’

‘I hate brushing my teeth.’

‘I’d noticed!’ Marnie said. ‘You’ll end up like Adam.’ Marnie smiled at Charlotte’s brother. ‘All your teeth will fall out. Show me...’ she said, and Adam took his finger and wobbled a tooth that was barely hanging. Marnie felt a curl in her stomach as he pushed it too far.

‘Stop now!’ Marnie said, but Adam just laughed and wiggled it harder.

They were fun but exhausting and, as Marnie cleaned up the bathroom, she told herself there’d be fluffy towels and champagne waiting tomorrow.

It just didn’t cheer her as much as it usually would.

Marnie was in bed early, knowing the chances of a full night’s sleep were remote, and that was confirmed at two a.m.

‘Daddy!’ Marnie heard Charlotte’s first cry and got up and headed to go to her, then turned and put a dressing gown on over her pyjamas.

‘It’s Marnie, Charlotte,’ Marnie said, as she opened the door. ‘Daddy’s at work, remember—I’m looking after you tonight.’

‘I itch.’

‘I know,’ Marnie said. ‘It’s that horrible chickenpox but they’ll be gone soon. Shall I put on some lotion?’

Charlotte nodded.

‘Would you like a drink?’

Charlotte nodded at that suggestion too.

‘Why don’t you go off to the loo,’ Marnie said, ‘and I’ll be back with a drink and some nice cold cream?’

Marnie was very used to patients waking at two a.m. and more often than not it was the need to go to the toilet that had woken them. So she turned on the lights for Charlotte and then headed down the stairs, made her a drink and found the cream.

Charlotte was back in bed by the time Marnie got back up there and, despite the hour, Charlotte was her usual talkative self as Marnie dabbed on the cream.

‘What’s a code blue?’

‘Why do you ask that?’

‘Code red is for a fire and all the doors close,’ Charlotte said, and Marnie’s hand paused as she realised that the children must hear the overhead intercom alerts in the crèche. Well, of course they would, Marnie reasoned. If there was a fire or the crèche needed to be evacuated, then they needed to hear the alerts too, but it didn’t sit right with Marnie that the twins heard them.

‘So,’ Charlotte pushed. ‘What’s a code blue?’

‘It’s when certain doctors are needed.’

‘Like the trauma team?’

‘Yes,’ Marnie said. ‘Right, you’re done.’ As Charlotte lay down Marnie tucked the sheet in around her and went to turn out the light. ‘’Night, Charlotte. You just call if you need anything.’

‘Can you read me a story?’

‘I’ll tell you a story,’ Marnie said, because the light was already off and Charlotte didn’t need any more stimulation. Marnie sat on the edge of the bed and told her the same stories she had told Ronan when he had been little. About the fairies that lived at the bottom of the garden and all the good work that they did.

‘In your garden?’ Charlotte asked.

‘In my garden back home in Ireland.’

‘But what happens when you move?’ Charlotte asked, and Marnie had been about to say they stayed to help the next lot of children who lived there but she could hear the anxiety in Charlotte’s voice. She remembered that they’d already moved at a very difficult time and would perhaps soon be moving again.

‘The fairies move with you,’ Marnie explained, and in the darkness she could see Charlotte’s eyes shining, waiting for her to go on. ‘They fly along with the removal truck.’

‘So the fairies from our old house are here?’

‘Of course they are,’ Marnie said. ‘We’ll take a little treat down for them at the weekend.’

Charlotte seemed to like that idea and it was she who said goodnight this time, but as Marnie went to go Charlotte halted her.

‘Did your fairies move with you?’

‘Of course,’ Marnie said, but if she’d been making things up before, now she really was lying. All the lovely imaginings of her childhood were still there in Ireland, all the games and the fun and the innocence were still there in her old home and garden.

‘Maybe not all of them, though.’ Charlotte yawned. ‘Fairies are very small and Australia is a long way to fly.’

She really did need to get out more, Marnie told herself as she climbed into bed, because all this talk of fairies and flying and her fairies being left behind had Marnie suddenly on the edge of crying.

It had been an emotional time, she told herself. The department was struggling not just with the doctor shortage but with the aching gap Dr Vermont himself had left behind.

But it wasn’t just that.

She’d never expected she might get attached to Charlotte and Adam—Marnie’s heart lived on ice—yet getting up to them at night, hearing their chatter, the things they said that made her laugh... Marnie could almost hear the drip of her heart thawing and it wasn’t just that she didn’t want it to, or that it terrified her, there was also an appalling sense of guilt because she was a mother of one and in a few days’ time it would be Declan’s birthday.

Not here!

Marnie lay in bed and refused to give in to tears—she was here to look after children. What if Charlotte called or Adam woke up?

She needed tomorrow, Marnie told herself as she lay there, trying to picture the ballet while frantically trying not to picture afterwards.

She wanted a night at The Langham with Harry.

Or just a night with Harry would do.

‘Marnie!’ She was almost asleep when she heard her name called.

‘I’m coming,’ Marnie said once she had ungritted her teeth, grateful for the three a.m. reminder of why she didn’t want a single father!

She needed a night away to get back to herself and normality, instead of crying over fairies and made-up stories.

* * *

Harry let himself in the following morning a little earlier than usual. The place had been quiet and he’d slept most of the night in the on-call room.

He was greeted by the sight of Marnie’s small case and a slightly flustered Marnie who, as usual, was fully dressed and had her hair tied back and make-up on.

‘I was just taking that out to my car.’

She’d hoped to do so before Harry got home or the children were up. She’d hoped to completely avoid any discussion about tonight.

She was looking after his children, Marnie told herself as she took out the small case. Certainly she was entitled to a night off.

Harry was trying to tell himself the same. ‘How were the twins?’ he asked, as she came back in.

‘I never heard a peep from Adam, and Charlotte just got up a couple times because she was itchy.’ She hesitated a moment, it was none of her business after all. ‘She was asking what a code blue was and things. Did you know they hear all the intercoms?’

‘I know,’ Harry said. ‘They have to be on.’

‘Even so...’

‘Marnie, I’d love them to be somewhere local but I struggle to get across the corridor to pick them up as it is.’

‘Of course.’ She changed the subject. The child-care arrangements really had nothing to do with her after all. She just loathed the hospital being so much a part of their young worlds.

Except it wasn’t her place to loathe it.

‘You’ll be tired, watching them all day,’ Marnie said.

‘I got a few hours’ sleep last night,’ Harry said. ‘Anyway, I’m not working tonight.’

‘No.’

‘About tonight...’ Harry turned to fill the kettle, trying to work out what to say. He’d hoped for a busy night so he wouldn’t have had time to dwell on it. What had happened to the wild Harry of old, or even the not-so-wild Harry of late who would have loved a woman who didn’t want to get serious...?

He loved this woman.

No.

He tore his head from that thought, told himself that he was just a bit infatuated, that was all. Intrigued perhaps. Or maybe it was just his ego because the one woman who didn’t want him...

The one woman.

‘I think the kettle’s full,’ Marnie said, as water gushed into the sink.

‘Daddy!’ Charlotte was delighted to see him. ‘Morning, Marnie.’

‘Morning, Charlotte.’

‘Can we take the treat to the fairies today.’

‘I’m off to work,’ Marnie said.

‘When you get home, then?’

‘I’m away tonight,’ Marnie said, but again didn’t elaborate. ‘I’d better get going.’

It wasn’t even eight o’clock.

‘See you, Marnie...’ Charlotte was hanging by the door as Marnie put her jacket on, and Marnie gave Charlotte a lovely smile and a wave as she headed out the door, but it was clear to Harry that Charlotte wanted a kiss.

Yes, they all wanted more from Marnie.

She’d be gone on Monday, he told himself.

It would be a relief, because it was killing him to have her here yet not.

In bed at night.

But not his.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HE
DAY
WENT
far faster for Marnie than it did for Harry.

While he was trying not to pace at home and trying not give any leeway to the mounting disquiet that churned every time he thought of her out on her date tonight, Marnie never got a moment to think till she was flying through the door to her home just before five.

She’d left work early for once and, incredibly organised, her overnight bag was already packed. Even as she undressed, Marnie had flicked on her heated rollers and turned on the taps.

Okay, she conceded as she pulled on a shower cap and hopped under the water, showers were good for some things—at least she didn’t have to wait for a bath to fill.

And showers were good for other things too, Marnie thought dreamily, recalling Harry, his hands soaping her body.

Marnie didn’t really do feelings and as for loyalty, she wasn’t deep enough into anyone to demand such a thing—but her moral compass was spinning in circles as, turned on for Harry, she turned off the taps and did her best to get ready...

For Matthew.

Her hair she piled into rollers.

Her make-up she had down pat and she was soon painted and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on gorgeous underwear and stockings and then arranging her cleavage into a very lacy bra. She took out her dress and laid it out on the bed—it was a gorgeous deep navy in the softest velvet and had cost a small fortune.

Yes, all the things she could afford because she didn’t have children, and it wasn’t just the financial benefits Marnie was taking into account as she quickly dressed—there was time to stop and get her nails done, time to linger in the make-up department, splurge on the ballet and a night at The Langham without having to worry about babysitters.

She wanted this life, Marnie insisted to herself. But her hands were shaking and she tipped on far too much perfume.

She’d been desperate to go when she’d heard the ballet was on—especially as it was Declan’s birthday next week. She’d known she’d want a night staring in the dark and just seeing beauty, and then sex for sex’s sake at a beautiful five-star hotel with her friend with benefits. Matthew didn’t even know about Declan—he’d made a brief comment when he’d seen the silvery lines on her stomach and she’d mumbled something about being a fat teenager.

Marnie pulled out her rollers and sorted her hair, smiled at her reflection because she looked like some high-class tart standing fully made up in her underwear.

She’d be pushing it to get to the hotel, so she dressed quickly, doing up the zipper and then putting on her shoes before transferring all she’d need from her handbag into her evening bag.

‘Tickets might help,’ she told herself, and unzipped the flap in her bag, and then Marnie stilled.

‘Oh, no!’

She’d put them in her computer bag. Marnie remembered now but it didn’t stop her from tipping out her handbag in the futile hope that they’d suddenly appear—that she wouldn’t have to stop by at Harry’s to get them.

It’s tickets!
Marnie told herself.

She was simply making a big deal of it.

If she rang and warned Harry that she was on her way, then she might not even have to see him; she could just let herself in, fly up the stairs and fly out.

It really was no big deal, Marnie told herself as she dialled Harry’s number.

‘Harry!’ Marnie cringed at her own voice, it came out too jolly and bright. ‘I just need to stop by and grab something...’

‘Something?’ The last thing he needed was to see her on her way out. What if that bloody Matthew was driving her? No, he didn’t like the idea of Matthew sitting in the car outside, but how could he put it delicately? ‘I think it might be a bit confusing for the children.’

‘Confusing?’ Marnie checked—was this man serious? ‘Did your previous nannies not go out?’

‘Of course they did. I meant—’

‘So the children won’t be confused,’ Marnie said, snapping off the phone.

It was the adults who were confused.

Harry was making dinner when he heard her key in the door and her breezy call, and he just called out hi and carried on chopping.

‘Marnie...’ Adam shouted. ‘Look.’

Adam, who never asked for attention, was asking for it now. She could see him standing in the living room, holding his lips open like a horse.

‘Adam’s tooth came out,’ Charlotte informed Marnie. ‘He was eating popcorn.’

Marnie walked down the hallway and looked at Adam’s gap and said all the right things as Harry stood in the open kitchen, chopping away. He felt like the most boring person in the world. He should be wearing a cardigan and slippers, Harry thought to himself. He was doing his best not to look up as Charlotte chatted.

‘So the fairies will come tonight...’ She stopped talking long enough to take in Marnie in her very lovely velvet dress and very, very high-heeled shoes. ‘Marnie! You look...’ Charlotte turned round to her dad. ‘Doesn’t she look beautiful, Daddy?’

Harry had no choice but to look.

In a very dark navy—or was it black?—velvet dress, she had stockings on and high heels and her hair was curly and worn down, her cleavage was gleaming white and her lips were painted red. Harry took a moment to find his voice.

‘Very nice.’

‘Where are you going?’ Adam asked.

‘Just out.’

‘Where?’ Adam persisted.

‘Adam!’ Harry warned, and then he let Marnie know he knew
exactly
what was going on. ‘Marnie’s going to the ballet, aren’t you, Marnie?’

‘I want to go to the ballet,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’m going to start ballet, aren’t I? Soon, Daddy—you said, didn’t you?’

He could barely get them home for dinner on time, Harry thought—try adding in dance lessons too. Only it wasn’t Charlotte’s excitement and chatter that had him chopping and chopping, it wasn’t that Marnie was going out and he was at home, and it wasn’t her freedom. It was none of those things.

It was jealousy.

It was possessiveness that was filling his throat from the stomach up. A black jealousy that was as sickly and sweet and as potent as the perfume she had put on for
him
, Harry thought, shooting her a look that made Marnie turn and run.

As Marnie raced up the stairs to retrieve the tickets, Harry’s possession seemed to chase her.

She stood in her bedroom, trying to get her breath for a moment—she didn’t deserve that look!

She was looking after his kids, for God’s sake, she wasn’t his wife.

For Harry, the alarming thing was that it felt like it.

It felt, as he stood there pulverising the vegetables, as it might have felt if Jill had stood there dressed to the nines and wafting perfume.
I’m just going out to the ballet and for a shag afterwards, darling. Don’t wait up!

He was as angry and as defensive and as pissed off as he would have been had it been Jill clipping down the stairs. That meant something he didn’t want it to mean, that it couldn’t mean, because Marnie didn’t want kids and family, she’d made that perfectly clear.

It was business to her.

It was supposed to be business to him—he was more than used to the nanny racing out the door on a Friday night, or their boyfriends dropping in.

He and Marnie had slept together
once
.

It was no big deal to him.

Usually.

‘See you,’ she called from the hall, and he heard the door open.

‘See you,’ he tried to call out, but the wrong words came out. ‘Could I have a word before you go?’ Harry said. He nearly added, ‘Young lady.’

He felt like her father as he strode down the hall.

He felt
nothing
like her father as he caught her arm and turned her round. ‘Call me old-fashioned,’ Harry said, ‘but I’ll tell you this much...I don’t like this, Marnie.’

‘Harry, I’m only here to help with—’

‘I don’t care,’ Harry interrupted. ‘I don’t care if it’s too much too soon, I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it, but...’ He tried to stop himself, she was thirty-one, he could hardly tell her she’d be better be back here at a reasonable time, that if she slept with him...

His eyes did the talking and so did hers. Marnie was not a woman who liked to be told.

‘I don’t know where we’re going, but there are certain things that you can’t come back from,’ Harry said. ‘And this is one of them.’

‘Oh, but it’s all right for you.’

‘No,’ Harry said. ‘You have every right to be as angry and as pissed off as I am right now if I...’

Marnie wrenched her arm from his and clipped out to the car.

Bloody men!

Sleep with them once and the next thing you know you’re ironing for them, watching their kids. He’d be asking what was for dinner next!

Harry let out a few harsh breaths as he stood in the hall after she’d gone.

‘Daddy?’ called Charlotte.

He ignored it.

‘Daddy!’

He tried to ignore it a second time.

‘Daddy, what have you done to the potatoes?’

Harry walked back into the kitchen, saw the mountain of minced potatoes he’d produced and gave a wry grin as he came up with a suitable answer. ‘They cook faster if they’re small.’

Even Charlotte didn’t seem convinced.

‘Marnie looked pretty, didn’t she?’ Charlotte simply didn’t let up. ‘Is she going out with her boyfriend?’

‘Charlotte.’ It was Adam who fired Charlotte a warning. Perhaps it took another guy to get it, Harry thought.

What the hell was wrong with him—issuing warnings like that?

A few weeks ago, Marnie would have been the perfect woman—no strings, no commitment. Marnie had been everything he’d wanted in a woman.

He just didn’t want that any more.

* * *

Marnie wasn’t faring so well either.

The traffic was hell as she approached the city— there was a match on at the MCG and Marnie could cheerfully have turned round and headed for home, except she had the tickets.

She was angry with Harry for making such a big deal of things, but it felt like a big deal—she didn’t want to see Matthew.

She didn’t even want to see Harry.

Right now, Marnie wanted a night at home to curl up alone and try and sort out her feelings.

‘Where are you?’ Matthew rang and she told him she was running late and that rather than going to the hotel first she would meet him at the Arts Centre.

It was busy and there really wasn’t much of a chance to talk. Marnie bought a programme and they ordered a drink and one for the interval, and then Matthew tried to make her smile. ‘We could always skip the ballet and head straight to the hotel.’

And she took a breath and just said it. ‘I think I might skip the hotel.’

‘Marnie?’

‘I need to be back by seven.’ He just looked at her, nonplussed. ‘I told you, I’m looking after a friend’s children.’

‘Who’s the friend?’

‘Just someone from work.’

‘That was quick,’ Matthew said, and Marnie sucked on her lemon. It was far sweeter than the conversation. She knew he was referring to how Marnie didn’t exactly jump into friendships. ‘I assume it’s the doctor you were holed up in your office with.’

‘Matthew, we agreed that we don’t have to run every detail of our lives—’

‘No,
you
decided that, you’re the one who decides how much to give,’ Matthew said, and Marnie could feel the people beside them briefly turn and then halt their conversations so they could listen to hers.

Matthew looked at her. ‘The doctor wants a wife...Well, God help him, then,’ Matthew said, ‘and God help...’ He halted then but Marnie knew what he’d been about to say and she challenged him.

‘Meaning?’

‘I never pictured you as a stepmother.’

‘Oh, for the love of God.’ Marnie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m looking after his kids for a week.’

‘Would you move in for a week to help look after mine?’

It wasn’t really the time to point out that he didn’t have any—even if the question was hypothetical, Marnie knew then the answer.

There’d be no Mary Poppins stopping at Matthew’s door.

Even if she hadn’t recognised it at the time, she had moved in because it was Harry.

When she said nothing, Matthew drained his drink. ‘You’re the coldest person I know, Marnie. The good doctor just hasn’t worked it out yet.’

He left her standing there and Marnie wasn’t about to follow.

She sipped on her drink as the bell went and people went through. She could just go home, Marnie realised, and have the evening alone she’d so desperately craved.

Shouldn’t it hurt more? Marnie thought.

But it wasn’t Matthew leaving that was hurting her now.

She wanted superficial. She wanted, for want of a word, relationships where it didn’t feel as if you might die if the other person were to leave.

Yes, she wanted to go home, yet more than that she needed escape.

Marnie sat watching the ballet with an empty seat beside her, but not even the dancers held her mind for more than a moment. She wanted something she had never wanted before. It wasn’t just Harry and giving things a go that scared her so—it was pink tights and Charlotte and the serious eyes of Adam and his wobbly tooth that had made her stomach curl, and her stomach only curled for family. Marnie was petrified—if she did try to make things work with Harry, she had to love them.

What if it didn’t work?

She wouldn’t lose one, she’d lose three, and Marnie truly didn’t know if she could stand to lose like that again.

It was a wretched night, a long, lonely drive home, and she was too upset to go to Harry’s—she simply didn’t want him to see her as confused and raw as this.

She’d feel better in the morning, Marnie assured herself as she let herself into her own home and set her alarm.

But she didn’t.

‘Hi.’

Harry couldn’t even look at her as she let herself in at six a.m. ‘I was just up with Charlotte, she should sleep for a couple more hours.’ He was putting the medicine back in the cabinet and wearing only hipsters. He hadn’t expected her back just yet, but more worrying than that was the effort needed to keep his voice normal, to somehow try and pretend that he hadn’t said what he had last night.