Ideal Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 1) Page 5

  ‘When you said lift I did at least think it would have a roof.’ She said sharply, trying and failing to calm her hair that had come out of its bun and now fell around her like a cloud – a cloud of knots that would take forever to untangle. Suddenly she caught his look and remembered her manners.

  ‘Thanks for squeezing me in. I couldn’t face even one second longer in that pub with that man!’ She turned towards the door, only to pause. After all he had gone out of his way to drop her home. ‘Er, did you want a coffee?’

  ‘Better not, with my first full round tomorrow. So what time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?’

  She looked up from dragging her fingers through her hair. ‘Oh, there’s no need, I can easily catch….’ But he interrupted her before she could continue.

  ‘There’s every need, what time?’

  She opened her mouth to object, only to close it again at the sight of his mulish expression. Sometimes there was little point in arguing. ‘Okay then, thanks - it had better be six o’clock so I’ll have time to unknot this lot!’

  With a little sigh of bewilderment, Liddy turned towards the front door and let herself into the dark musty smelling hall before heading towards her tiny garden flat. Why on earth would someone like him be interested in someone like her? The only part of her that stood out was her spot!

  She flung her rucksack across the battered sofa and headed for the bathroom; a good long soak would help ease the pain in her hip. As she waited for it to fill she striped off all her clothes and stuffed them in her laundry basket, before padding around her bedroom while she tracked down her pyjamas. They should have been where she’d left them – now where had she left them again? She finally found them behind the sofa and had to shake them out before draping them over the towel rail in the bathroom. They were a bit too tight, either that or she was a bit too fat – but whatever the reason she needed some new ones.

  She shook her head in confusion. Why would any man be interested in a short little fat girl was beyond her. Okay so Sorcha was always going on about her hour glass figure, but all that meant was she had a small waist separating fat tops and fat bottoms! But of course there was little she could do about being plump, she reminded herself sourly - not that she hadn’t tried. She’d been on every diet in the book, from the Aitkin’s to the egg and had failed to lose more than a couple of pounds on either. She’d even tried the far from sociable cabbage diet, but that had been a step too far. All she’d managed to lose was a fortune in loo roll and hack off her friends in the process. Perhaps she could stretch herself, she thought wryly as she walked back into the bathroom and turned off the taps, however that wouldn’t get rid of her biggest issue as she glanced down at her boobs.

  It wasn’t the backache, or the fact she couldn’t get a dress to fit to save her life. It wasn’t even the nasty comments from her so called friends. It was the stark reality that men never looked her in the eye, even when she was sitting down. At least her scrubs disguised her shape somewhat, but even then the most discerning of men did their best to brush up against her at every opportunity, Donal being the worst. She couldn’t even take up sport in an effort to redistribute the weight. She cycled of course, but bending over a bike was the only activity that hid her generous assets. She’d been mad to try jogging as that had just been asking for trouble, although a smile crossed her face as she relived that last time.

  She could still picture the look on the jogger’s face as, eyes stapled to her chest he collided with that tree. Of course the irony being that as a nurse she had a duty of care to pick him up and see he was alright. As she dipped her toe in the water, she suddenly recalled that he’d then had a cheek to ask her out on a date and, to her chagrin she’d very nearly accepted. Pulling her hair out from the sorry remains of its bun, she started to gently massage her scalp, even as she remembered. Despite a black eye and split lip he’d still been incredibly good looking. If it hadn’t been for the fact she was pretty sure he’d broken his arm, she could even now be going out with him, although she very much doubted it. He was only interested in her assets, and he wouldn’t have been interested in those if her Lycra top hadn’t shrunk in the wash. She’d actually considered patenting the look - it was much cheaper and far more effective than a push up bra could ever be.

  Stepping into the bath her long dark curls flowing down her back reached well past her waist and were the first thing to get wet as she bent to climb into the hot water.

  Afterwards, wrapped up as she was from head to foot in a bath sheet Liddy felt a lot better, the pain in her hip now only a dull ache. However her mind, with a will of its own turned back to the man who had dropped her home. Where was his home and more to the point who would be waiting anxiously to know why he’d been so late?

  Chapter Seven

  After a restless nights’ sleep Mitch stumbled out of bed, cursing his offer of taxi services but still determined to be outside Liddy’s flat all the same. He leaned against the cool tiles as the spray beat a tattoo down his back even as he wondered what the hell he was doing. Surely to God it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to make her own way to work? There was no reason for him to offer; except that there was no way that he was going to allow her to walk through the dark streets of Dublin with a body like that. A bike was bad enough, but on foot she’d have no chance. He turned off the shower and, reaching for his towel tried and failed to dispel the image of vulnerability that he’d seen flicker across her face the previous evening.

  He’d walked back to the table both hands full of beer, which wasn’t a bad thing – at least he had something to focus on instead of the vision in red that had suddenly taken over one whole corner of the bar. It only took one glance for him to tear up his shiny blond prototype, but he had no regrets at the loss. Instead, with eyes pinned to the top of his pint he ran through the list carved into him brain and placed a huge black tick against boobs. It didn’t matter what size they were, it didn’t even matter that they were more than a handful – he’d always been a glass half full type, not a ‘More than a handful’s a waste’ type of man. All that mattered was they were bloody perfect, so bloody perfect he’d wanted to reach out and yank her hoodie back over her head.

  It wasn’t a matter of for his eyes only, that wasn’t it at all, he told himself, half angry at the thought. It was the expression on her face, quickly masked that he’d glimpsed as he’d turned from the bar. Whatever her reason for removing her top, it wasn’t the temperature.

  He reached the table and, funnily enough he wasn’t quite as sure of himself as he’d been only moments before. His mind worked overtime as his eyes remained firmly fixed on the top of the beer glass in front of him. God almighty, where the hell was he meant to look now? He knew he shouldn’t look lower than her neck, he’d known that ever since Pete Donnelly had been thumped in the playground in Year Nine for daring to let his eyes stray lower than Finula Flynn’s second button. But what was a man to do? He’d never seen anything so worth looking at. He was left with her face or that of her friend’s – both veritable minefields in his book. His gaze slid briefly across to Sorcha. Okay so he’d quickly categorised her as a bit of a blond bombshell, a very dangerous blond bombshell if he wasn’t very much mistaken. There was no way he was going to let his eyes linger on her many assets for even a second - that would put him in an even worse position than staring at Liddy spilling out of her top. The bubbles winking on the top of his pint were becoming boring - didn’t they realise how difficult it was being a bloke?

  He made his way back to his bedroom still puzzling over her actions. She’d struck him from the first as being quite shy, despite what John had said about her and Donal. Mind you now he’d met that individual he wouldn’t put anything past him. So why would someone so reserved suddenly decide to take off their top when they were obviously going to be embarrassed by what lay underneath? His hand hovered over his tie rack before pausing on a plain blue and green stripe. Unless she wasn’t as shy and innocent as she loo
ked? Innocence had never been high on his agenda before, and it certainly didn’t appear on the list for ‘The Ideal Girlfriend.’ However, as he started to button his shirt he silently added it to his list as an optional extra - something important, but not a deal breaker. He’d pretty much convinced himself that, in Liddy he’d found a girl that would play some part in his future. Would her being a slut change all that? After all innocence once lost couldn’t be reclaimed. Perhaps things would be clearer when he saw her again; perhaps he’d been too hasty in swapping his aloof wine drinking blonds for beer swilling brunettes, but he doubted it. Forgoing his first coffee fix of the day he raced outside in his shirtsleeves and jumped into his car, flinging his jacket casually across the passenger seat before keying up the ignition.

  Wet November had silently slipped into dark December overnight. The early December morning was dark; the sun hadn’t even started to lighten the black sky with its orange glow as he drove through the deserted streets. When he pulled up outside her flat, she was just locking the front door before heading down the uneven weed strewn path. At least she wasn’t limping, he said to himself as he let his head rest back against the soft upholstery. But that’s about all he could say. What on earth was she wearing anyway? He took in the grey outsize sweatshirt and well-worn baggy jeans in one glance. He knew she was only going to work, but at least she could have chosen something that didn’t look about six sizes too big for her. Even her hair was scraped back from her forehead and tied in a hasty plait.

  If John thought this was mans’ view of the ideal girl, either he had strange taste in women, or he needed a trip to Specsavers. She looked a tree hugger at best and a vegetarian at worst. God, that’s all he needed; another spinach eating fanatic!

  He’d never really thought about the effort it took for women to get ready before. He usually got well out of the way while they hogged the bathroom - but then again he’d never really seen them looking less than perfect. In fact all the women he knew went out of their way to make themselves look more attractive, not less – Helena being a case in point. He’d never been allowed to see her without her war paint. She’d even renewed her lippy before climbing into bed with him and, as for seeing her without false eyelashes. He smirked briefly, remembering the way she’d jumped out of bed in fright the first time she’d stayed over, only to realise that the spider staring back at her had fifty lashes instead of eight legs!

  He got out of the car and walked around to open her door, even though his heart wasn’t in it. The sudden realisation that this slip of a girl thought so little of him as to make absolutely no effort on his behalf was like a kick in the teeth. Whilst he wouldn’t want her to throw herself at him, he had hoped for more than the cold shoulder she was clearly offering. Most of the nurses he met spent their time batting their eyelids and, if he was completely honest he enjoyed the attention and had often taken advantage of what was on offer. But now, as he watched her amble towards him the funny thing was he couldn’t recall the face of any blonds, (aloof or otherwise) that could compete at the same level as the girl before him.

  It was only as he held open the door that he noticed her pale wan cheeks and puffy eyes, which told him more than words could say that her calm exterior masked the same kind of unsettled night that he’d had.

  ‘Morning. How’s your hip?’

  ‘Oh, much better thanks.’

  ‘No hangover?’

  ‘What on a couple of pints? Give over!’ She slid into the seat, shifting his jacket onto her lap. ‘It’s a bit early for the likes of you to start isn’t it? I thought Professors didn’t appear until after lunch.’

  ‘I find it easier to work in the early mornings.’ He paused to start the engine. ‘You’re lucky to live somewhere so quiet.’

  ‘You wouldn’t think that Sunday mornings.’

  ‘I would have thought that would have been the quietest.’

  ‘Yeah well that’s what you know.’

  ‘What?’ He threw her a quick glance.

  ‘Duh, you didn’t happen to notice that I live next to a church!’

  ‘Ah, so are you a regular church goer then?’ He stopped at the traffic lights at the end of Leeson Street.

  As conversations went it must rank up there as one of the worst one in living memory. How the hell was he meant to work out if she liked him a little, or even fancied him if all they were going to talk about was work and churches?

  ‘No, but my mum was.’ He heard the catch in her voice. ‘Funnily enough I’ll miss the bells.’

  ‘Why - are you leaving?’

  ‘I don’t want to, but the rent is huge, even with the extra I’ll get when I qualify.’ She put up a hand to tug at her top. ‘It’s all very well having bricks and mortar, but you can’t wear them.’

  ‘What about your friend?’

  ‘We’re not the same size!’

  Mitch sat in his car in the exact position she’d left him, absentmindedly smoothing out his jacket that was still warm from Liddy’s tight embrace - the remains of her light perfume mingling with the smell of new leather. He still had nearly two hours to kill until the true start to his day, but he was far too restless to return home to his empty house. As he mulled over the last twenty minutes he came to the conclusion that Liddy was a complete enigma. She was nothing like any of the girls he had dated before not that he was dating her, or likely to be any time soon.

  Sighing in frustration he pulled up beside a sexy little MG with red trim before heading towards the doctors mess in search of caffeine, the stronger the better. He’d decided to bleep the, no doubt harried junior doctor who would think it was an early Christmas present to be allowed a couple of hours sleep before the ward rounds began in earnest: anything was better than sitting with thoughts that were sending him round and round in circles.

  Chapter Eight

  Dragging her freshly ironed uniform over well washed cotton underwear, she managed to dismiss all thoughts of him as her mind shifted to the day ahead. There were two more transfers scheduled from ITU, not to mention those that would be bound to come in via Accident and Emergency. However Sister Slater was a day off so the unit, although busy would at least be a happy one. Her mind drifted across to thoughts of Bridie Jenkins, as she popped her shoes on and started to place her belongings inside her locker. Today she’d be able to sort out her cat for her. Sometimes it was the small things that made a patient turn the corner, and Bridie needed all the help she could get.

  When she arrived on the ward it was just starting to wake up. Lights were still dimmed, but the screened beds and clinking of metal on metal told her that many of the patients were already being attended to. She nipped into the office for the handover sheet from the night staff before heading into the bay to start pulling up the cream blinds that covered the windows - only to stop.

  Out of the corner of her eye she’d spotted something different, something that should have been there, but wasn’t. Turning to face Bridie’s bed her fears were confirmed. Where yesterday there had been a freshly made up bed now all that remained was a bare mattress. Beside the bed rested two forlorn faceless carrier bags with a funky black patchwork coat draped casually over the top.

  ‘I’m sorry Liddy,’ said Billie, the ward clerk, before resting a hand briefly on her shoulder. ‘I was hoping to catch you before you found out for yourself; I knew you’d spent a lot of time with her over the last few days.’

  ‘What happened?’ She managed, after a brief pause.

  ‘The nurses found her when they went to turn her in the middle of the night. They hadn’t heard a peep out of her since she’d come back from ITU. We really thought she’d finally turned the corner but… At least she died in her sleep. She wouldn’t have known anything about it you know.’ She said gently. ‘Poor Bridie, she had all her life to look forward to and now….’

  ‘What’s going to happen to her belongings?’ Liddy gulped back her feelings. If she’d learnt anything over the last three years it was the importance of not d
welling on the unfairness of it all. Life was unfair, she knew it just as every doctor and nurse in the hospital knew it. If she dwelt on it more than that she’d go under.

  ‘Oh, that’s no problem. Nurse Phillips has just phoned her Dad in Dubai. He can’t get any flights for a couple of days so we’re to put them in our property cupboard until then. It’s a good job you cleared it out yesterday, or we’d have had to store them in Sister’s office for her to trip over.’

  ‘But, but,’ Liddy interrupted. ‘I think she had a cat. What’s going to happen to it now?’

  She frowned. ‘Bloody Nora! So that’s what the bat was all about. Probably best to phone her social worker as soon as she’s in I would’ve thought. The office will be free at nine after Professor Merrien’s ward round.’

  As Billie left to answer the ever demanding telephone Liddy took a deep breath in an effort to pull herself together. This wasn’t the first patient she’d lost, but for some reason it was the first person that she couldn’t stop thinking about. It was as if some invisible thread had wound itself through her thoughts and kept pulling her mind towards her.

  Glancing at her watch she realised she’d better get a move on. Standing there thinking of patients indeed - there were three women still to assist with showers, not to mention all the breakfasts to dish out and admission notes to prepare for later. She gathered up the bags and carried them to the white cupboards set back into the wall in the corner before setting about washing and remaking the bed for the next patient.

  At nine o’clock Liddy checked Bridie’s medical record and dutifully went to the office to phone the social worker assigned to her case, however the response she’d been hoping for didn’t materialise. Her social worker was on holidays until after Christmas and, with one still on long term sick, the two left were only firefighting and handling cases in order of priority - apparently an unconfirmed cat wasn’t a priority.