The Emergency Specialist. Barbara Hart

assertive and with a touch of false jollity.

      She picked up the phone and dialled her sister’s number.

      ‘Thanks for ringing back,’ said Rebecca at the other end. ‘I thought you might have been at the hospital or on call or something.’

      ‘I’ve just come off the night shift,’ she said.

      ‘Oh, good, then we can chat.’

      ‘I’m very tired, Rebecca. Was there something special you phoned about? Otherwise I’d rather chat to you when I’ve had a bath and some sleep.’

      ‘I won’t keep you long, Doctor,’ said Rebecca, who reacted as if she’d been rebuked. ‘It’s about the Gypsies…about Dad, really.’

      Rebecca had always referred to their parents as ‘the Gypsies’ ever since their father had retired, sold the large family home and bought a small apartment and a top-of-the-range motor home. Their parents now spent a good part of the year travelling around Europe.

      ‘What about Dad?’ queried Anna. ‘He’s not ill, is he?’

      ‘Good heavens, no!’ replied Rebecca. ‘I was talking to Jennifer and we were saying that as it’s Dad’s sixtieth birthday soon we should be thinking of having some sort of celebration. It’s only a few weeks away and they’re planning to be back in England for it.’

      ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Anna, her heart sinking at the thought of all the arrangements that would have to be made. ‘We ought to do something for him, but what?’

      ‘A party, of course,’ replied her sister. ‘That’s why I phoned. I’ve arranged to have a meeting with Jennifer one day next week so that we can discuss it. What about Thursday?’

      The day rang a bell with Anna. She knew she wasn’t on night shift…but…oh, yes, that was the day she’d agreed to go out with Jack.

      ‘Can’t do Thursday, I’m going to a concert,’ she blurted out, before realising what she’d said.

      ‘That’s nice,’ said Rebecca. ‘With a man?’

      Anna could visualise her sister’s antennae whizzing round like mad, hoping to pick up any signals regarding her closely guarded private life.

      ‘Yes,’ she admitted. She was too tired and too mentally exhausted to attempt to head her off.

      ‘You must tell us all about him when we have the meeting,’ said Rebecca gleefully. ‘Let’s make it Friday instead of Thursday—eight o’clock at my house. Yes?’

      ‘OK,’ said Anna wearily.

      * * *

      The concert was wonderful. In fact, the whole evening was magical. It was for Anna the turning point in her recovery from her broken heart. Not once during the Mozart evening did she give a single thought to Liam.

      She settled down in her seat and gave herself up completely to the experience. As the lights were raised at the end of the concert and the hall resounded with applause, applause that seemed never-ending, she felt as if she’d been reborn and was now able to start her emotional life once again. The heartwrenching misery of the past weeks had vanished— thanks to Mozart. And thanks to Jack, too, she admitted. She came across him a lot at work—they always seemed to bump into each other at some point during the day. She found herself looking forward to catching a glimpse of him, however fleeting.

      After the concert they went to a nearby Italian restaurant for a meal.

      Anna chose agnello con fagioli—braised lamb with cannelini beans—and a green salad.

      ‘Sounds good,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll have the same.’

      Sitting across the table from him, she was able to study him closely in a way she’d never previously done. His hair was very thick and vital-looking, even though it was clipped quite short. He was wearing a dark grey suit and the formality of it suited him. He was the kind of man, she judged, who’d look good in anything. Or nothing. As the thought entered her head she began, briefly, to fantasise about him naked. She felt herself colouring and banished the image from her mind.

      ‘How’s Saskia?’ she asked.

      ‘Fine,’ Jack replied. ‘She brought a picture home from nursery school today. One that she’d painted herself. It was of me, she said.’

      ‘Is it a good likeness?’ Anna smiled, imagining how the picture would look—probably a large, round head and stick-like arms and legs—the kind of paintings that three-year-olds did when trying to draw their parents. Rebecca and Jennifer used to have similar pictures stuck up all over their kitchen walls.

      ‘I think it’s a pretty good likeness, actually,’ said Jack. ‘You’ll have to tell me what you think of it when you see it.’

      Anna looked away. How was she going to handle this developing relationship? For a start, did she want it to develop into anything at all? If she wasn’t careful she would get swept along and before she knew it she and Jack would be an item. She shivered slightly at the thought. She just wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted.

      They were halfway through their meal when he said, ‘So who is he, this man who hurt you?’

      Anna was taken aback. She had never mentioned Liam to Jack.

      ‘What makes you think that?’ she asked, giving nothing away.

      He reached out and stroked the back of her hand with his long fingers. ‘I don’t need to be told. You’ve got it written all over your face. You look like a woman who’s been hurt…emotionally. Am I right?’

      She stared at him blankly. That evening, for the first time, she’d managed to put all thoughts of Liam out of her mind. Why did Jack have to start talking about him? What business was it of his?

      When she didn’t reply he continued stroking her hand, gently. He wrapped his fingers around hers, his eyes never leaving her face.

      ‘He must be crazy, that’s all I can say.’

      She looked at him unblinkingly. Then she said, ‘Shall we have the cassata for dessert?’