but she was always warm and friendly. She reminded me of a mother hen. She oozed maternal warmth and was known for taking lame ducks under her wing. Not that I considered myself a lame duck or anything, but right then I wasn’t paddling quite the way I wanted to.
‘How did the wedding go?’ Lynne asked as her opening gambit. What is it with everyone and weddings? I thought. People were becoming obsessed. It wasn’t healthy.
My smile felt like it was set in plaster of Paris on my mouth. ‘Great. Fabulous. Wonderful. Awesome.’ I was going overboard with the superlatives but what else could I do? In for a penny, as they say, but now I was in for a million. I had to keep telling lies to keep the others in place. I was starting to realise what a farce this was becoming. I would have been better to be honest from the start. But now it was too late. I would look completely ridiculous if I told everyone the wedding had been cancelled. Maybe in a couple of months I could say things didn’t work out, that Andy and I had decided to separate or something. But until then I had to keep the charade going. Oh, joy.
‘Well, that’s why I thought you’d be perfect for the job,’ Lynne said with a beaming smile.
‘Erm … job?’
‘The St Valentine’s Day Ball,’ she said. ‘We hold it every year. It’s our biggest fundraising event for the hospital. But this year it’s ICU that’s going to get the funds we raise. We hope to raise enough for an intensive care training simulator.’
I’d heard about the ball but I thought it was being organised by one of the senior paediatricians. I said as much but Lynne explained the consultant had to go on leave due to illness so they needed someone to take over.
‘Besides,’ Lynne said, ‘you’re young and hip and in touch with everything. The ball was becoming a little staid and boring. Ticket sales have been slow. We thought you’d be fabulous at putting on a great party.’
‘We?’
‘Dr Bishop.’ Lynne beamed again. ‘He said you’d be perfect.’
I did the teeth-grinding thing. Silently, I hoped, but I wouldn’t have put money on it. ‘Right, well, then, I guess I can do that,’ I said, madly panicking because it was barely four weeks away. I comforted myself with the fact I didn’t have to organise the venue or catering as the consultant had already done that, according to Lynne. My job was to make the ball entertaining and fun for everyone.
As soon as I got out of the hospital I called Jem. She’s a teacher—another irony, given our parents went through a no-schooling phase. It lasted three years but then the authorities cottoned on and we were marched back into the system. Interestingly, I was a year ahead of my peers academically but well behind socially. For Jem it was the other way around. She had no trouble fitting in but she struggled to catch up in classwork. She’s never said, but I’m pretty sure that’s why she ended up a teacher. She understands how hard it is for kids who aren’t naturally academic. Mind you, she’s no dunce. Once she caught up there was no stopping her. She whizzed her way through university, landing the vice chancellor’s prize on the way through. Now she teaches at a posh girls’ school in Bath.
‘Jem, you got a minute to talk?’ I asked.
‘Sure,’ Jem said. ‘What’s up? I mean, apart from being betrayed by your fiancé with the slutty sister of your bridesmaid, and then jilted at the altar, and going on honeymoon all by yourself.’
That’s another reason I love my sister. She doesn’t sugar-coat stuff. She doesn’t just take the bull by the horns. She wrenches the darned things off. Unlike me, who tentatively pets the bull in the hope it will become my best friend and won’t gore me to death. But one thing Jem and I have in common is a love of black humour. It’s how we dealt with our wacky childhood. If we hadn’t laughed we’d have cried. ‘It’s way worse than that,’ I said, and told her about the postcard fiasco.
‘What? You mean you still haven’t told anyone? No one at all?’
‘No.’ I kept my head down against the icy cold wind as I walked along the frozen footpath. The last thing I wanted was to slip and end up in the orthopaedic ward. Although come to think of it …
‘What about your friend, what’s her name? The nurse you said was really sweet.’
‘Gracie.’
‘That’s the one. What about her?’
I sidestepped a sheet of black ice. I decided I didn’t want to break a leg. How would I explain no husband coming in to visit me? ‘I’m going to tell her … soon.’
‘It’s not that hard, Bertie,’ Jem said matter-of-factly. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of. Andy’s a twat. You don’t have to protect him. Tell the world what a flipping jerk he is.’
I guess you can tell by now Jem is not the sort of girl to get screwed around by guys. In fact, I think she terrifies most men, which kind of explains why she hasn’t had a steady boyfriend for ages—years, actually. She dated a Sicilian guy once but it didn’t last. It was a whirlwind affair that ended badly. She’s never talked about it. Won’t talk about it. I know better than to ask.
‘I got caught off guard because of the new director at work,’ I said. ‘It was too embarrassing to go into the gory details.’ Understatement.
‘What’s he like?’
‘How do you know he’s a he?’
‘Because you wouldn’t have been caught off guard if it was a woman.’
Got to hand it to my sister. She knows me so well. ‘He’s … annoying, but kind of interesting too.’
‘Woo hoo!’ Jem crowed.
I rolled my eyes. I knew what she was thinking—the best way to heal a broken heart was to find someone else and soon. But I’d had enough trouble finding Andy. I didn’t like my chances in the dating game. Besides, I’m not sure I wanted all the drama. Maybe I was destined to be on my own. My heart sank at the thought. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with someone who loved me. I wanted a family. I wanted it all. ‘He thinks my research is dodgy,’ I said.
‘What’s he look like?’
‘Did you hear me?’ I said.
‘Is he hot?’
‘He’s okay.’
‘How okay?’ Jem said.
I blew out a breath. There was no point fighting it. Jem would get it out of me eventually. Might as well be sooner rather than later. ‘He’s six foot four and has dark hair and blue-grey eyes that change in different lights. He’s got a nice mouth but I don’t think he smiles at lot. Although he gets this little twinkle now and again that makes me wonder if he’s laughing at me.’
‘Way to go, Bertie!’
‘Like that’s going to happen,’ I said. ‘Besides, he thinks I’m married.’
‘Some men get off on having an affair with a married woman.’
‘Not him,’ I said. ‘He’s too conservative.’ Which was kind of what I liked about him, even though I was supposed to dislike him on account of him being so mocking about my project. But for all that I felt drawn to him. He intrigued me. All those shifting shadows in his eyes suggested a man with layers and secrets that were just waiting to be explored.
‘So what doesn’t he like about your research?’ Jem asked. ‘Apart from the funny title, of course.’
I almost tripped on a crack in the footpath. ‘Why didn’t you say something earlier?’
Jem laughed. ‘I thought you did it deliberately. You know how everyone is always poking fun at New Agey things. I thought it was really clever of you, actually.’
‘Yeah, well, Matt Bishop thinks it’s a big joke,’ I said. ‘It will be all round the hospital tomorrow. I