The Right Time (52 page)

‘We're finished now, Mum,' Jayden said urgently. ‘Can we go play?'

‘Please, Mummy?' Cody added.

They had been meeting once a week for a family dinner, initially at home, but since Evie had become so busy she liked to have a night off from cooking. Tonight they'd chosen McDonald's. She and Craig needed to talk, so the kids needed to be occupied.

‘Okay boys,' said Evie. ‘But Jayden, you know the rules. You look after your little brother.'

‘I will,' he said, coming around to help Cody as he climbed down out of his chair. ‘Come on, Codes,' he said, walking off with his arm around his brother.

Tayla remained in her seat, shrinking a little, in the hope she wouldn't be noticed, Evie suspected.

‘Tayla,' she said, ‘Daddy and I need to talk. Can you go with the boys, please?'

‘Do I have to?'

Evie leaned closer to her daughter. ‘I would like you to, just for a while,' she said. ‘I'd really appreciate if you'd do that for me without an argument.'

Tayla looked up at her. ‘Okay then, Mummy,' she said, sliding off her seat. ‘Will you come and get me as soon as you're finished?'

‘It's a deal.'

‘Wow,' Craig remarked in a low voice as Tayla walked away. ‘She's like an actual little human being.'

‘She's getting there,' said Evie, watching her go. She looked back at Craig. ‘So, I want to go over the schedule with you.'

Emma was proving to be a wonderfully understanding boss; Evie worked entirely around school hours, or from home when she had Cody, though Emma didn't mind her bringing him into the office for a few hours. Evie was loving every minute of it, she felt like a new person – a new, capable,
interesting
person.

‘Now that I'm working most days, I'm not getting a chance to fit in much exercise. I'd like to join a gym, so we have to work out what nights you're prepared to come over and cook dinner for the kids.'

‘Can't they just come to Mum's?' he suggested.

Evie looked at him. ‘If you want to prove to me why I should have you back, Craig, I want to make sure you can cook for the kids at least one night a week. Besides, you know the counsellor suggested this.'

‘Yeah, I know,' he relented. ‘What if I promise to cook every night? Can I come back then?'

‘Baby steps, Craig, let's just start with this,' said Evie. ‘Have you done the homework he suggested last week?'

Craig frowned, thinking.

‘Remember, he said we have to think about whether we'd marry each other again if we met now.'

‘Oh, yeah, that was easy. I'd marry you in a shot,' said Craig.

‘Anything to get away from your mother's, right?' Evie said dryly.

‘No,' he protested. ‘Well yeah . . . but no, that's not why I'd marry you again.' He paused, looking awkward, and bashful, and kind of cute. ‘I love you, Pud. I know I was a dickhead. I thought I was missing out on something, but it's nothing compared to the way I miss you now. I'll do anything, really. I'll cook dinner as many nights as you want. But just give me a little hope?'

Evie considered him. He had been trying really hard, he hadn't even baulked at going to counselling. He had finally managed to explain to the counsellor what had brought on the idea of going to a swingers' club in the first place. He had been getting a little bored, he admitted, but he wasn't interested in the slightest in straying from Evie, or having an affair. So it seemed like a way they could liven things up together. Yes, it was weird, and it certainly showed a breathtaking lack of judgement. But hearing him tell it had softened Evie towards him.

Counselling had forced her to examine her own role in the decline of their marriage. Just like with the children, Evie had never established boundaries with Craig either. He wasn't a child, it wasn't her job to train him to behave, but she was responsible for how she expected people to treat her. And she hadn't expected much.

This break had been the best thing they could have done, because Evie was beginning to miss Craig, the best part of him,
the part that made her laugh, that was dependable and steadfast, the man who had always made her feel safe.

So Evie had hope, but it was going to take time.

‘I tell you what, Craig,' she said, ‘things keep going the way they are and I might even invite you to Emma's wedding.'

‘They've set a date?'

Evie nodded. ‘They were waiting until she got the all-clear at her follow-up appointment. They've chosen New Year's Day, which is appropriate, because it's a new start for them.'

‘Maybe for all of us?' Craig suggested hopefully.

‘. . . and so we extend a warm welcome to the surgical intake for the new year,' the chief registrar announced from the podium, followed by a polite round of clapping. ‘Please take this opportunity to introduce yourselves to the other members of your group, and of course to your supervising senior surgical fellow. You will have noted you were all given colour-coded name tags on your way in, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find each other. Please mingle, have a drink, something to eat, avail yourselves of our hospitality. On behalf of all the surgical staff at the hospital, we are delighted to have you as our guests this evening, and excited that you will be part of our dynamic team.'

After a while, Liz began to think she should remove her name tag. One by one, she had been approached by bright young things, wearing the same purple name tag as she was, introducing themselves with wide-eyed eagerness, desperate to impress, presuming she had to be their supervisor. She was clearly the only one over thirty, and therefore obviously their senior. This was going to be worse than she thought. Eventually she sidled over to the drinks table and picked up a glass of wine. Maybe it was best if she just hid over here in the corner.

‘Dr Beckett?'

Liz turned around to see another young, smiling, eager face. ‘Hello, it's nice to meet you, but let me just say upfront, I'm not your supervising doctor.'

‘No, but I'm yours,' he said with a grin.

Liz blinked, glancing down at his name tag. ‘Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Dr Gannon.' She cleared her throat and thrust her hand at him. ‘I just . . . it's that . . .'

‘It's Nate,' he said, shaking her hand.

‘Pardon?'

‘You can call me Nate,' he said. ‘At least when we're not around patients.'

‘Oh, okay,' she replied.

‘It is a huge pleasure to meet you finally,' he said. ‘And an absolute coup to have you in my group. We fought over you, you know.'

‘You did?' she said. ‘I didn't think I'd even get in.'

‘What are you talking about? Your application was . . . well, it was superior.'

Liz could feel herself blushing.

‘It'll be great to have someone with experience in the group, I'm pretty new to this teaching gig.'

Liz nodded, starting to relax. He seemed so . . .
nice
. ‘Hm, well, I feel like housemother,' she said.

He laughed at that.

‘Oh, you needn't laugh. I feel like housemother to all of you.'

‘What?' he frowned. ‘No way. I have this stupid baby face. I'm actually thirty-two.'

She sighed. ‘And you'd know from my application that still makes me older than you.'

‘Barely,' he said. ‘Certainly not old enough to be my mother.'

He was smiling at her. He had a lovely smile, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, eyes that were a bright blue . . .

‘Your publishing record is impressive as well,' he was saying. ‘Surgeons don't tend to think about research, but they're expecting it from everyone these days. Maybe we could collaborate on something down the track?'

Really bright blue. Oh, this could be dangerous.

‘Can I ask you a personal question?' said Liz.

‘Sure. I guess.'

‘Are you married?'

He looked a little taken aback.

‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘There's a history, I have to ask, it's a phobia . . . oh God, shoot me now.' She closed her eyes, wincing, but when she opened them again, he was smiling that lovely smile at her.

‘I'm not married . . . Elizabeth,' he said. ‘May I call you Elizabeth?'

‘Oh sure, you can call me whatever you like,' she said. ‘Though mostly I get Liz.'

‘Okay, Liz. What do you say we go face the young 'uns?' He touched her elbow.

‘Lead the way.'

As they made their way through the crowd, his hand still cupping her elbow, Liz turned to him. ‘Hey, are you doing anything New Year's Day?'

Ellen cut the engine, but then she just sat there, not moving. Well, she was moving a little – her legs were shaking. It was one thing to drive over here, quite another to get out and go speak to the man. She thought about driving away again, but what if he'd seen the car? She dared to turn her head and peer over towards the garage and the office. She couldn't see anyone, any movement. It was Friday afternoon, she'd left it late so there was unlikely to be anyone else around. She'd nearly left it too late, realising at the last minute that he might have closed up, then racing over here, barely keeping to the speed limit, cursing every red light and honking impatiently at cars that got in her way.

And now she was here, wishing she'd never come. But she had to do this, if only to get everyone off her back. She would finally be able to say to her sisters, and now Kate as well, that she had
gone to talk to Finn and, as she suspected, it was well and truly over. The end. Of course, then she was going to have to put up with their exhortations to ‘put herself out there' all over again. But one thing at a time.

What she hadn't admitted to them, and barely to herself, was that she wanted to see Finn again. She really did. She wanted to see if there was any chance, so she was using her sisters' goading to motivate her. She had missed him, more than she was prepared to admit to anyone.

So Ellen forced herself to open the car door and step unsteadily onto the tarmac. She closed the door again, took a deep breath and turned around. Her heart was thumping in her chest as she looked over towards the office and the garage, expecting Finn to appear at any minute. But he didn't. There was music blaring out from the garage, and as she walked, slowly, tentatively closer, she saw a pair of legs, well, half a body leaning over the engine of a car, the top half obscured by the bonnet.

It was probably Dave. Ellen didn't know what to do. The music was very loud, no one would have heard her approach. She should walk over to the office, check if Finn was in there. As she drew closer, she could see through the glass that it was empty. Maybe Finn wasn't even here? Ellen glanced over towards the garage and, from this vantage point, she could tell it was the top of Finn's head leaning over the engine. It wasn't Dave, Dave was blond. She quickly stepped back out of sight, blocked now by the body of the car. Ellen stood there, breathing hard. This was getting ridiculous. She had to go through with it. She walked, as though on eggshells, right up to the back of the car and cleared her throat.

‘Excuse me . . . Finn,' she said, but her voice was drowned out by the music. Ellen contemplated her approach. She didn't want to come up behind him and risk startling him. She could imagine him jerking his head up suddenly, hitting it on the underside of the hood, like a scene from a bad slapstick comedy. So she walked tentatively along the opposite side of the car. That way he would see her at the same time that she got his attention.

‘Finn?' she said in a loud voice.

He jerked his head up suddenly, hitting it on the underside of the hood.

‘Ow,' he said, wincing and rubbing his head as he stepped back from the car and straightened up.

‘I'm sorry,' Ellen said loudly over the music, ‘I was trying not to startle you.'

‘That was never going to happen,' he said. Or at least that's what she thought he said.

He walked over to a bench by the wall and flicked off a console. The music reverberated in her ears for a moment. And then there was silence. Finn strolled slowly back over to the car, and leaned one elbow on the roof. His expression was wary, perhaps suspicious. She'd go with wary.

‘What are you doing here, Ellen?' he said finally. ‘Car troubles?'

‘No,' she replied.

He raised his eyebrows then, waiting.

Oh God. She felt stupid. ‘Well, I, um, well, I came by, um, well, to ask you something.'

‘Oh?' He seemed curious, at least. That was something.

‘What did you want to ask me?' he prompted when she didn't say anything.

She really felt stupid now. This was a bad idea.

‘Ellen?'

Just go ahead. Ask him. Make a fool of yourself.

‘Well, I wanted to ask you . . . if you want to come to a wedding with me.'

‘What?'

She took a breath. ‘Emma, you know, my sister? Well, she's been cleared by the doctors, so the wedding's back on. It's New Year's Day.'

She couldn't decipher the expression on his face.

‘And you want me to come with you?'

‘I'd like you to come with me,' she said. ‘If you want.'

He seemed to be thinking about that. ‘Who's going to be there?' he asked eventually.

Interesting question. Ellen leaned against the car, looking at him directly over the roof. ‘My kids, my parents, my sisters, my brother.'

He nodded. ‘And how would you introduce me?'

‘Oh, as my mechanic, of course,' she quipped, but his face was stony. ‘Just trying to break the ice, make a joke.'

‘Not a very funny one.'

Ellen sighed. ‘No, it wasn't,' she said seriously. ‘I'm sorry, Finn. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way I treated you, it was inexcusable,' she blurted out all at once. ‘Well, maybe not so much inexcusable, because what I want to say to you is that I . . . I didn't know what I was doing. I haven't dated for so long, since I was a teenager. I stuffed it up and I'm sorry. I took you for granted, and I was obnoxious, and rude, and inconsiderate of your feelings . . . and . . .' She paused, looking at him. ‘You can jump in here any time.'