it’s your turn now. I’m here to help out a bit more and give you the freedom you deserve. Which reminds me, weren’t you supposed to be going flat hunting at some point?’
‘I’m looking into it.’
‘Good. Mum and I have relied on you too much over the years to be the sensible one. You need to get out and have a bit of fun.’ Talia flicked the crumbs off her lap onto the grass for the sparrows hopping nearby.
‘I don’t know what’s brought on this sudden interest in my personal life but there’s no need to worry. I really have enough to keep me occupied in between shifts.’
‘Oh, yes, laundry and decluttering wardrobes are so much fun.’ There was no mistaking the sarcasm coming from a woman who’d probably done neither in her lifetime.
‘You forgot the hair washing—’ The truth was it suited Mollie to be so caught up in the mess at home when it always provided an excuse for her not to go out after work for drinks with her colleagues or those awful blind dates people kept trying to set her up on. There was no pressure to look or act a certain way when she was in her comfort zone, behind closed doors.
‘Well, I’ve organised something much more exciting to fill your time.’ There was something ominous in Talia’s tone as she tidied away the remnants of their al fresco lunch on the strip of greenery surrounding the hospital intended to give the illusion they were somewhere more tranquil than central London.
‘What have you done?’ Since her sister’s idea of fun usually involved high-octane, pulse-racing pursuits, she automatically went on meerkat alert, watching and listening for danger coming so she could take appropriate action.
‘I put your name down for that dance competition they’re doing. I thought a bit of excitement would do you good.’
The casual manner in which Talia tossed the information to her gave no credence to the chaos unleashed with those few words. Mollie could almost hear the ping as her nerves finally gave way with the implications of her sister’s actions. That image of a scowling surgeon once he’d realised his valuable time had been wasted came to mind and sent shudders across her skin. She might’ve had the upper hand then, when she was the innocent party, but his patience might not accommodate a meddling sister. The custom in this sort of situation had always been for Mollie to take the flak anyone directed at her sibling. Such was the burden of guilt.
‘Why would you do that?’ Her voice reached soprano level as she fought to understand what would make her sister carry out such an act of stupidity when she’d only just secured her own position in the hospital.
‘Because I knew you wouldn’t,’ Talia answered with a huff, as if that excused everything. Perhaps she hadn’t done as much growing up as hoped.
‘That’s because it’s the last thing on this earth I would ever want to do.’ Her temperature was steadily rising along with her heart rate.
‘Gowns and glitz...what’s not to love?’
‘Er...a load of people staring at me.’ The very idea of shuffling around the dance floor in one of those flouncy ballroom dresses was already bringing her out in a cold sweat and that was before they even acknowledged the fact that she couldn’t dance.
Talia had never really understood Mollie’s anxiety about her appearance, probably because she’d never confided in her about how much it had affected her. It had been easier to simply accept the ‘boring twin’ tag than attempt a mature conversation on a painful subject.
‘It’s only a bit of fun and, you know, there are all those sexy young doctors for you to tango with...’ Male attention had always been Talia’s solution to any worries and Mollie had never corrected her when she assumed the one disastrous serious relationship she’d forayed into was the reason she preferred the single life. While it had contributed, her ex’s horrified reaction to seeing her naked body, pretattoos, had plunged the dagger into what little left there had been of her self-confidence. There was no way she was tangoing with anyone, fully clothed or otherwise.
‘If you’re so keen, why didn’t you volunteer?’ There hadn’t been any sign of a significant other, nor had Talia shown any interest in venturing into the dating pool herself lately, which was so unlike her. Mollie was sure there’d been some sort of heartbreak behind her sudden desire to come home, not that she’d admitted it so far except to say things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned.
‘I’m still a newbie around here. I doubt I’d bring in the money a well-established, well-respected specialist nurse could raise for a good cause.’
Flattery didn’t work with Mollie—compliments of any kind always made her suspicious when she was so aware of her every flaw—but she could see Talia’s intentions had been honourable. If there was one thing Mollie would always prioritise over her own comfort it was her sister’s welfare. She was still a newbie and Mollie didn’t want her new start jeopardised because she’d unintentionally ticked off senior staff. It could be easily rectified and they both knew it was only a matter of time before she caved and did whatever her sister wanted anyway. Her part in this well-rehearsed dance was to at least make a half-hearted protest so she didn’t seem like a complete pushover.
‘Do not ever volunteer me for anything else again.’ She knew Talia was only trying to help in her own way and didn’t want to discourage her from future endeavours—as long as it didn’t include putting her forward for things without her express consent first—but it was going to take all the courage she could summon to face Ben Sheridan and tell him there’d been a mix-up and she would be taking part after all.
That conversation wasn’t the only issue liable to keep her awake at night. Dancing would leave her exposed in ways she’d avoided for over a decade.
* * *
Tracking down a surgeon was no mean feat in a busy hospital. Mollie couldn’t even be sure he was here when he was in such high demand around the country. She’d refrained from having someone page him, doubting she could justify this as an emergency even if it was to her. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she’d sorted this mess out. Although, confirming her participation in the competition was merely going to create another problem for her to obsess over and direct her anxiety down another path.
By the end of her shift and numerous phone calls to the relevant departments it eventually became apparent that he was no longer in the building.
‘Try The Shed,’ was the general advice forwarded by those staff members who took an interest in his private life.
She could’ve waited until the next day to ask him to reinstate her place in the competition but when further enquiries, and a quick internet search, revealed The Shed was only two stops away on the Tube she decided to rip the sticking plaster off as quick as possible.
Just because she’d taken time to change and refresh her make-up before leaving work it didn’t mean she was making an extra effort for a certain surgeon. She wanted the protection of her most effective armour before going into battle.
Her vintage style was an acquired taste for some, but it had never been intended for anyone else’s benefit other than her own. That fifties’ retro look had seemed so glamorous to a young girl who’d struggled to accept her disfigured body and, after the accident, she’d adopted it in an attempt to project that confident image she so envied. She was grateful her face hadn’t been left permanently scarred in the accident and she liked to make the most of her best asset to take the focus off those areas she constantly worried about. The moment she painted on that bright red lipstick and winged black eyeliner she at least looked as though she were ready to tackle the outside world even if she was quaking on the inside.
It was only when she turned the corner towards the slightly run-down row of commercial buildings that she wobbled ever so slightly in her navy-and-white polka-dot platform shoes. Far from the glorified outhouse she’d pictured in her mind, ‘The Shed’ was housed on glass-fronted shop premises with the man she’d come to see visible through the window, or at least the bottom