Capturing The Single Dad's Heart. Kate Hardy

ONE

      WHY WOULD YOU turn down every single invitation to a team night out when you were new to the department? Erin wondered. Surely you’d want to get to know your colleagues and help yourself fit in to the team more quickly, rather than keep your distance?

      Nate Townsend was a puzzle.

      As a colleague, he was fine; she’d done a few ward rounds with him, and had been pleased to discover that he was good with their patients. He listened to their worries, reassured them and explained anything they didn’t understand without showing the least bit of impatience. The team in Theatre had all been thrilled to report that, unlike the surgeon he’d replaced, Nate was precise with his instructions and always bothered to thank the nursing staff.

      But he didn’t socialise with the team at all. There was always a polite but guarded smile, a rueful shrug of the shoulders, and, ‘Sorry, I can’t make it,’ when anyone asked him to join them. No excuses, no explanations. Just a flat no: whether it was a drink, a meal, going ten-pin bowling or simply catching the latest movie. He didn’t even have lunch or coffee with any of his colleagues in the spinal unit; he grabbed a sandwich at his desk instead and wrote up his notes so he could leave straight at the end of his shift.

      Erin knew that some people preferred to keep themselves to themselves, but she’d been working at the London Victoria since her first year as a junior doctor, and the friendliness of her colleagues had always made even the most harrowing day more bearable. Why did Nate rebuff everyone? Did he have some kind of complicated home life that meant he needed to be there as much as he could outside work and just didn’t have the energy to make friends with his colleagues?

      Not that it was any of her business.

      Then she became aware that Nick, the head of their department, was talking to her.

      She really ought to be paying attention in the monthly staff meeting instead of puzzling over her new colleague.

      And it wasn’t as if she was interested in Nate anyway, even if it turned out that he was single. Erin was very firmly focused on her career. She’d let her life be seriously derailed by a relationship when she was younger, and she was never going to make that mistake again. Friendship was all she’d ever offer anyone from now on. ‘Sorry, Nick. I didn’t quite catch that,’ she said with a guilty smile.

      ‘No problems. Can you bring us up to date on the sensory garden?’

      Erin’s pet project. The one that would help her make a real difference to their patients’ lives. She smiled and opened her file. ‘I’m pleased to report that we’re pretty much ready to start. The hospital’s agreed to let us transform the piece of land we asked for, the Friends of the London Victoria are working out a rota for the volunteers, and Ed’s finalised the design—the committee just has to approve it. But they liked the draft version so it’s pretty much a formality and we’re planning to start the ground work in the next week or so.’

      ‘Hang on,’ Nate said. ‘What’s the sensory garden?’

      ‘We’re remodelling part of the hospital’s grounds as a sensory garden, and making sure it’s accessible to our patients,’ Erin explained.

      He frowned. ‘That kind of project costs an awful lot of money. Wouldn’t those funds be better spent on new equipment for the patients?’

      This was Nate’s first monthly team meeting, so he wouldn’t know that Erin had been working on the garden project for almost a year in her spare time. She was sure he didn’t mean to be rude, so she’d cut him some slack. ‘I know that sensory gardens have a reputation for costing an arm and a leg, but this one’s not going to cost anywhere near what you imagine,’ she said with a smile. ‘We already have the grounds, and the designer’s working with us for nothing.’

      ‘For nothing?’ Nate looked sceptical.

      ‘For publicity, then,’ she said. ‘The main thing is that he’s not charging us for the actual design.’ Like Erin herself, Ed the garden designer had a vested interest in the project. This was his way of giving something back, because the spinal unit at the London Victoria had treated his younger brother after a motorcycle accident. But it wasn’t her place to tell Nate about their former patient. ‘Actually, I hope he gets a ton of clients who respond to his generosity.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Nate’s blue eyes were so dark, they were almost black. And right at that moment they were full of scepticism. Did he really have that bitter a view about human nature?

      ‘The labour isn’t costing us anything, either,’ Erin continued. ‘Ayesha—she’s the chair of the Friends of the London Victoria—is setting up a rota of volunteers from across the community. So that’s everyone from students who want some work experience for their CVs through to people who just enjoy pottering around in the garden in their spare time,’ she explained. ‘It’s going to be a true community garden, so it will benefit everyone. And the rota’s not just for planting the garden, it’s for maintaining it as well.’

      ‘What about the cost of the plants and any other materials used in the design?’ Nate asked.

      ‘Some things have been donated by local businesses,’ she said, ‘and the staff here, our patients and their families have been raising funds for the last year. We have enough money to cover the first phase of the project.’

      ‘And you really think a sensory garden’s the best way to spend that money?’ he asked again.

      Just who did the guy think he was? He’d been here almost a month, kept himself completely aloof from the team, and now he was criticising a project that had been months and months in the planning without having a single positive thing to say about it? Erin gritted her teeth in annoyance and, instead of letting her boss deal with it—the way she knew she should’ve done—she gave Nate Townsend her most acidic smile. If he wanted an answer, he’d get one.

      ‘Actually, I do, and I’m not alone,’ she said crisply. ‘As you know, most of our patients have just had a massive and unexpected life change. They have to make a lot of adjustments—and they can be stuck inside in a clinical environment for months, just staring at the same four walls. A garden will be a restful space for them to sit in and have some quiet time with family and friends, chat with other patients, or even just sit and read in a space that’s a bit different. It’ll help them start getting used to their new lives rather than just feeling that they’re stuck inside the same four walls all the time with no greenery. A sensory garden has scent, sound, texture, colour and even taste—all things that stimulate our patients and can help with their recovery.’

      ‘You said a restful space,’ Nate repeated. ‘How are you going to find that in the centre of London, with traffic going past all the time?’

      ‘Fair point,’ she conceded, understanding his scepticism on that particular subject, ‘but we’re using hedging to lessen the impact of the traffic noise. You’re very welcome to have a copy of the plans.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Constructive comments from someone with relevant experience are always welcome.’

      His eyes widened slightly to acknowledge the point of her comment; clearly he understood that she didn’t think he was being constructive at all or had any relevant experience.

      But that didn’t stop him asking more questions. ‘So what about the fact that some of our patients have problems regulating their temperature and can get either too hot or too cold in a garden?’

      ‘Phase two,’ she said, ‘will be a covered space to help those particular patients. But we’re beginning the first phase now so our patients and their families can start to benefit from the garden as soon as possible, rather than having to wait until we have all the money for the second phase. And, before you mention the fact that our patients are usually confined to wheelchairs, we’re making sure that the pathways have no bumps and are smooth-running for anyone in a chair. Actually, Ed—the landscape designer—even spent a few hours being wheeled about the grounds in a chair so he could see for himself where the problems are.’

      ‘Right.’