Free Emergency: Wife Lost and Found by Carol Marinelli Page B

reading. ‘She’s sick—I’ve got an en suite. Can you freshen up the place and make me up a bed in the spare room? Lorna’s a bit…’
    ‘A bit what?’ Pauline pushed.
    ‘Fussy.’ James said, then added. ‘Your phone’s bleeping.’
    It was too!
    A message from May.
    Half day 2morrow—coffee in morning?
    Can’t. Pauline texted back. Have to work—guest arriving.
    Need a hand?
    Pauline thought of James’s shower that she hadn’t visited in a while, the sheets that needed washing and changing, the ex-wife who was about to descend, and as James bit into his toasted sandwich, Pauline hit the send button.
    Please.
    May and Pauline had been friends for years. Even though they had grown up near each other, they had only met in London when Pauline had been an orderly on a gynaecology ward and May had been a staff nurse. They had struck up an instant friendship that had easily grown, given how well their husbands got on too.
    It had only dawned on Pauline in mid-interview, when James had been telling her about his rather erratic hours, that he was the ‘lovely Dr James’ that May sometimes mentioned. Some sixth sense had told her to keep quiet, that if her prospective boss knew that her best friend happened to work alongside him, then she wouldn’t get the job.
    And she wanted it.
    An ex-wife was very different from a new girlfriend.
    With as much gusto as if his mother were coming, she changed sheets, sorted out the linen cupboard, wiped down the cutlery drawer and cleaned the fridge. In fact, she was kneeling on a rolled-up piece of towel, trying to coax a bit of jelly from last Christmas to melt, when May arrived, bunches of flowers in hand.
    ‘If James comes home suddenly…’ Pauline fretted, but May shook her head.
    ‘The place is steaming—he won’t be home for hours yet. Let’s get to work.’
    ‘We’ll be sailing on the seven seas this time next year,’ May reminded her as she sprayed the shower and Pauline took down the screen to soak it. ‘Just think about that.’

Chapter Nine
    P ATIENTS often didn’t realise just how ill they were when they’re in hospital.
    It’s only when they went back into the real world and met the million and one things that made it real that they suddenly realised how poorly or sore they really were. And for Lorna the realisation came as she stood up in the wheelchair at the collection point and tried to lower herself into James’s rather low sports car. Even putting on her seat belt herself was impossible. She couldn’t twist to get it and neither could she easily twist to clip it—two simple manoeuvres that she’d never really given a thought to until now.
    ‘I’ll do it.’
    He leant carefully over her and it was, for Lorna, their first contact, his big shoulders so close, his hair in her face. He smelt different but the same, so big and strong and efficient and gentle.
    ‘Ouch!’ Tears stung her eyes and she felt like the biggest baby in the world, but as he leant back and released the seat belt the pressure was unbearable.
    ‘God, Lorna, I’m sorry.’ He pulled at the belt andheld it loose, unclipped it again and looked at her with concerned eyes. ‘Just wait there.’
    He darted into Emergency and came back with a pillow, which she held on her chest as he again went through the rigmarole of clipping her in.
    And that was before she’d even got out of the hospital. Everything on the five-minute journey to his home was daunting, the winter sun too bright, the sound of a siren as fire engines raced towards them on the other side of the road made her sweat. Her memory of the accident had returned now. Not that she’d told anyone, but she could remember well the loss of control, the screech of the tyres, the slam of metal as she’d hit a tree. Now even going at twenty miles an hour in the busy London traffic felt way too fast.
    ‘Nearly there.’ James glanced over but she wished he wouldn’t. She wanted him to keep his eyes on the road.
    He had a