The Matchmaker (30 page)

‘So you’re just a big kid!’ he teased.

‘Actually I’d forgotten how great it is! That’s the good thing about minding Evie – I get to do those things again.’

They stood watching the kite in companionable silence, each taking a turn flying it. Evie told them what to do as she ran between them. As the kite flew above them, Grace was acutely aware of Mark’s dark hair and handsome face concentrating on passing the string-holder back to Evie and making sure that she had a proper grip on it.

‘I’d better get going,’ he said after a while, ‘continue my run.’

Grace thanked him again and watched his tall frame pick up pace and jog off across the sand.

Evie was in her element and moved slowly up and down along the beach. Grace watched the red kite soar and dip and catch the air pockets, dancing free above them, wishing somehow her heart could be like that!

Then, suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Grace spotted two boys on bicycles racing across the sand, a flash of red and black metal paint and silver, pedalling furiously, racing each other. She shouted, trying to warn them. Evie was engrossed looking upwards, and didn’t see them. She stepped into their path and the wheels and speed of the bikes knocked her over on to the ground in a tangle of wheels and grazed skin and blood. Evie lay in a heap, sobbing, screaming, her voice piercing.

Grace, panic making her hands tremble, pulled the bikes off her.

The twelve-year-olds looked shaken, and apologized.

‘We didn’t see her!’

‘Sorry! I couldn’t stop.’

‘You were going too fast, not watching!’ she shouted angrily at them, bending over Evie.

The small girl’s bare legs were shaking, her knees gashed and bleeding and covered in sand. Evie had let go of the kite; in shock, she was unaware that it was floating away. One of the boys grabbed the string.

The lady with the dogs came back, the Labradors sniffing around the ground and the bikes. This time Evie ignored them.

‘Just see if you can stand,’ urged Grace, trying to lift her up.

Evie wailed the minute she touched her arm. ‘It hurts!’ she moaned.

‘Maybe it’s broken?’ said the older woman kindly. ‘It’s best to get it checked. She’s probably going to need a tetanus injection too.’

Evie wailed even louder and Grace stood there frozen. She didn’t know what to do. If Evie needed an X-ray she would have to take her to the children’s hospital in town. She somehow had to get her off the beach and then into a car. It was a nightmare. How was she going to manage?

‘I’d bring you,’ said the lady, ‘but my car is about two miles away.’

‘It’s fine, my car is up in the car park,’ Grace thanked her as she tried to manoeuvre Evie up into her arms without hurting her sore arm. She failed, and Evie began to cry harder.

‘Here, let me.’

She turned to find Mark was back standing beside her, taking Evie from her as if she were a feather.

The two boys looked miserable, thinking that they were in big trouble.

‘You two learn a lesson from this!’ he warned. ‘Watch where you’re going. You’ve no business cycling like maniacs on a public beach where little kids are playing!’

Grace took the kite and the rewound string one of the boys passed her before he sloped off guiltily with his friend, the two of them slowly wheeling their bikes away.

‘My car is just there, you can see it,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll drive you. Temple Street is probably the nearest children’s hospital.’

‘Don’t want to go to hospital,’ protested Evie.

‘Temple Street is where all the good children go when they’re hurt,’ he said kindly. ‘The doctors and nurses there make them better.’

Grace was overwhelmed with relief at his appearance and surprised by how at ease he was with Evie, calming her down and yet firmly telling her what was going to happen. What would she have done without him?

Taking his keys, she managed to open his black Range Rover and sat in the back seat. He passed her Evie, who stretched out lengthways on top of her, her knees too sore too bend.

‘It’s all right, pet. Everything is going to be all right,’ Grace reassured her, trying to keep the fear out of her own tone as the car headed across the East Link Toll Bridge. The whole way to the hospital she prayed that Evie’s injuries were minor.

The Accident and Emergency Department was busy and Mark kept hold of Evie and sat down in the queue while she went to the desk and filled in the name and address and information forms. Sitting there trying to give them vital medical information about her niece’s inoculation history, she felt absolutely useless.

‘My sister’s in London,’ she explained, ‘and I’m just babysitting for the weekend.’

What a disaster! Some babysitter I am, she rebuked herself. What was she going to say to Sarah? The minute she had some information she’d phone her to let her know what was going on. She went back to the waiting room and joined Mark. Evie was dozing in his arms, her face pressed against his shirt.

‘I’ll take her off you if you want, Mark, then you can go,’ she offered, sliding into the empty seat beside him. ‘We’ll be fine, honest.’

‘Let her sleep,’ he whispered. ‘She’s had a shock.’ He showed no inclination to leave despite it being a Saturday evening.

All around them in the busy department were kids and parents with every conceivable injury that could befall anyone on a Saturday evening: football disasters; a teenage skateboarder with a broken finger; a scared little boy with five bee stings whose hand was swollen up; a little girl with a big white plastic bowl throwing up non-stop; a kid with a piece of stick stuck in his leg; and red-faced kids running temperatures and wailing. There were two small babies with petrified young mothers and a ten-year-old boy with his father who had injured his leg playing football in the back garden, the two of them kitted out in matching Manchester United shirts.

It’s hell, thought Grace, feeling sick herself every time the little girl across from her puked.

‘Go and get some air,’ urged Mark.

Outside on the street, she gulped in the fresh air and wondered how in heaven’s name did people cope with being parents? She’d had her tonsils out here in this hospital when she was eight years old, but her only memory was of getting a new doll called Colleen and eating big bowls of strawberry ice-cream after her operation. Her mum and dad must have been up the walls. She tried Sarah’s phone but it was switched off.

Trying to compose herself, she headed back inside to find Mark, unperturbed, chatting away to the United fan’s father.

‘Evie Ryan,’ called the nurse, looking around the busy waiting room. Grace stood up, Mark following with Evie in his arms, carrying her into the large treatment area. The smiling Filipina nurse led them to an open cubicle. Evie grimaced and cried out in pain as she was lowered on to the narrow trolley bed. April, the nurse, gently examined both knees and asked Evie about her arm. A few minutes later the doctor appeared. He looked really young, his greasy mouse-brown hair standing on end, the lapels of his white coat covered in Star Wars badges, worn open over a Rolling Stones T-shirt.

‘Hey, Evie!’ he called, trying to get her to smile. ‘I’m Dr Delaney.’

Evie looked up at him but closed her lips stubbornly.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

Grace began to tell him the story about being on the beach and the bicycles—

‘If you don’t mind,’ he interrupted, ‘I’d prefer it if Evie could tell me in her own words.’

A sudden thought occurred to Grace. Did this doctor think that she was responsible for what had happened to Evie?

‘I was flying a big red kite,’ Evie said slowly. ‘It went high and Grace and Mark were helping me and there were two goldy dogs called Honey and Bailey and bold boys came on their big bikes and they hit me.’

‘They hit you?’

‘With the bikes,’ she said, her voice wavering.

‘And are you hurt?’

She nodded. ‘My arm and my legs.’

Dr Delaney examined her quickly, checking her chest and her ribs and stomach, then tried to get her to lift her arm and move it. Evie winced with pain.

‘Can you squeeze my hand?’ he asked. She couldn’t.

A few minutes later he gave her a tetanus injection and sent her for an X-ray with Nurse April.

‘Mum and Dad, you can stay here, it won’t take long,’ he said, rushing off to another young patient. Grace was embarrassed by his assumption that Mark and she were Evie’s parents and a couple. She could tell Mark had heard it too.

‘It’s a clean break,’ the doctor explained on Evie’s return. ‘She’ll need a cast but will be fine in a few weeks. The legs and knees are OK but badly grazed, we need to clean and sterilize them before we let you go home. Get that sand out of the tissue. I’ll give her some local pain relief first.’

Grace was overwhelmed with relief. Evie was going to be able to come home tonight. ‘You are such a brave girl,’ she said, kissing the top of her head.

Evie was very quiet as Nurse April, once her knee area was numb, began to clean it and irrigate it with water from a syringe before putting a special film of antiseptic ointment and a dressing on both knees.

‘I know it feels bad tonight but by tomorrow it will be a whole lot better,’ explained the nurse, her dark eyes serious. ‘It’s good she walks around but just gentle exercise for a few days, not too much playing and jumping, to let the skin heal up. Any sign of infection you can bring her back to us or to your GP. Now let’s get this cast on her arm.’

Evie was very wary when the nurse got a metal tube and inserted her arm into it, covering it with a layer of bandage, then pulling the tube away and leaving a perfect layer of bandage on her lower arm which she then began to add plaster to. In what seemed only a few minutes the cast was done. Evie had opted for an almost neon-pink one. Finally the nurse cut a sling to fit comfortably around Evie’s neck.

‘Thank you so much,’ said Grace appreciatively as they got ready to go. Evie definitely looked as if she’d been in the wars. Grace had phoned Sarah’s number in London a few more times but her phone was still turned off. She’d try her again later. Mark made a great fuss admiring Evie’s cast and telling her about the one he’d got when he broke his leg when he was ten. ‘I was trying to climb an apple tree in the garden. I managed to get up into the tree, the problem was coming down!’

Evie giggled as he scooped her up and carried her out to the car.

It was dark outside, the streets quiet, disturbed only by the flickering blue flash of an ambulance pulling up outside the hospital doors.

‘Mark, I’m so sorry,’ she apologized, realizing how many hours they had spent in the hospital. ‘We’ve totally ruined your Saturday night.’

‘Come on and I’ll get you two home,’ he said, starting the engine. ‘Anyone fancy something to eat? Chips or whatever?’ Grace suddenly remembered how long it was since they’d eaten; she was starving. He stopped off at Burdock’s, the city centre chipper; Grace persuaded Evie to eat a few chips and to take a few sips of orange in the back of the car. She looked exhausted, her face pale and strained, too tired to eat any more. It had got chilly and Mark made her take his grey cotton hooded top and put it on to keep warm.

Evie was out cold, fast asleep, by the time they got to the apartment. Grace ran ahead of Mark to open the main door and the lift, and her apartment door, showing him to the main bedroom.

‘Put her here in my bed,’ she whispered as Mark lowered Evie on to the cushions. Evie barely stirred as she eased off her sandals and socks and pulled the quilt over her. She stood watching her for a few minutes, the sense of panic that had been bubbling away in her finally easing as she saw Evie sleep.

‘She’s going to be OK,’ Mark reminded her, as she went back out to the living room. ‘You heard what the doctor said.’ He was walking around studying the view, the bookshelves and her stack of CDs and DVDs, paying attention to the prints and artwork on her walls. ‘Nice place, very nice.’

Grace was for some strange reason relieved that he approved of her taste.

‘Would you like a drink or something?’ she asked, belatedly remembering her manners.

‘A coffee would be great.’ He smiled, following her as she went into the kitchen. His T-shirt was covered in blood and dirt. She hadn’t even noticed it earlier. He leant against the polished wood and steel units watching her as she filled the kettle, got milk from the fridge and produced some fudge brownies she’d bought for Evie.

‘I can’t say how grateful I am for today,’ she began. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. There’re not many people who would stop and help like you did and come to the hospital. You’ve been so good, Mark—’

‘Ssh,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘I told you it’s OK. It’s no big deal.’

‘It
is
a big deal,’ she said softly, touching his face and cheek, something she’d been wanting to do for the past few hours. She could see the smile on his lips as he pulled her close.

‘Then it is a big deal,’ he said, looking her straight in the eye, moving a strand of hair off her face before claiming her mouth and lips with his.

His kiss was warm and tender and loving. Grace, opening her eyes, surprised, saw a look in his eyes that left her in no doubt that the attraction and feeling between them was mutual.

‘Interesting,’ he said, raising his head.

Grace blushed; the situation certainly was interesting. Mark McGuinness was not at all what she had expected. She had got him totally wrong, made stupid assumptions about him, but the past few hours had shown her a very different side of him. He was one of those good old-fashioned men her mother was always talking about.

‘Very interesting,’ he teased, kissing her again.

Grace definitely liked having him hold and kiss her this way. She pulled him closer, running her lips over the skin of his neck and throat and almost collapsing with desire when he in return began to kiss the nape of her neck and up under her ears.

Grabbing their coffees, the two of them made it to her living room. Mark pulled her on to the couch, his hand straying up under her T-shirt caressing her skin; she pushed herself closer to him, moulding her body to his. The emotion between them was heightened, the desire obvious, yet Grace was unsure what to say or do. He was utterly gorgeous: she was torn between having wild rampant sex with him or curling up on the couch on his lap and just watching the way he breathed or how his hair curled at the back of his head. She was scared; whatever there was between them she didn’t want to spoil it by simply having slam-bam sex. She wanted more from it, she realized, holding his hand in hers and studying the way small dark hairs patterned beneath his knuckles as he raised her fingertips and kissed them one by one. She wanted to be much more than just a one-night stand. She wanted a relationship with him.