“Stay where you are!” Aaron’s yell cut intothe chaos like a knife. “Nobody move!”

Fragments of what was happening continued to tumble through Penelope’s brain. People had escaped. But the window of opportunity had lasted less than a minute. Everybody left in the E.R. was now under the control of the gunman. It was a lottery that one of them might not survive the next few seconds.

“Do exactly as he says.” Mark was watching Aaron as he spoke, and Penelope cringed. How could he draw attention to himself like that? He was inviting Aaron Jacobs to use him as a target and he was the closest person to the deranged patient other than herself.

The closest person who was alive, that was.

Dear Reader,

Perhaps you are driving home one evening when you spot a rotating flashing light or hear a siren. Instantly, your pulse quickens—it’s human nature. You can’t help responding to these signals that there is an emergency somewhere close by.

Heartbeat, romances being published in North America for the first time, bring you the fast-paced kinds of stories that trigger responses to life-and-death situations. The heroes and heroines whose lives you will share in this exciting series of books devote themselves to helping others, to saving lives, to caring. And while they are devotedly doing what they do best, they manage to fall in love!

Since these books are largely set in the U.K., Australia and New Zealand, and mainly written by authors who reside in those countries, the medical terms originally used may be unfamiliar to North American readers. Because we wanted to ensure that you enjoyed these stories as thoroughly as possible, we’ve taken a few special measures. Within the stories themselves, we have substituted American terms for British ones we felt would be very unfamiliar to you. And we’ve also included in these books a short glossary of terms that we’ve left in the stories, so as not to disturb their authenticity, but that you might wonder about.

So prepare to feel your heart beat a little faster! You’re about to experience love when life is on the line!

Yours sincerely,

Marsha Zinberg,

Executive Editor, Harlequin Books

Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher but now splits her available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

Emergency: Christmas
Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ONE

YES!

Penelope Baker was confident that her personal elation would be easily absorbed by the general buzz of anticipation building around her. She reached for the wall phone and punched in the required number to reach the operator.

‘Could you page the anaesthetics registrar, please?’ Please! Penelope added silently. Let Jeremy be on duty. Please, please, please!

She glanced over her shoulder as she waited, inner tension kicking in at the minor crisis erupting beside her. A student nurse, Chrissy, had been invited to join the trauma team for the incoming case and the poor girl was terrified. Having been directed to assist the circulation nurse, Chrissy was presently struggling to untangle the giving set she was attempting to prime. She had forgotten to close the line, and fluid was dribbling steadily from the end of the tubing. Droplets splashed Penelope as Chrissy shook the tubing to try and unravel the knot.

Behind Chrissy, the other team members appeared focused. Drugs were being removed from a secure cupboard, drawn up, checked and labelled. Over-head lighting was being positioned and switched on. A suction unit was being tested. Radiographers were donning lead jackets and doctors were tying on disposable gowns and pulling on gloves. Advanced airway care equipment was being assembled and checked.

Belinda Scott, the nurse responsible for the airway equipment, deflated the balloon on the endotracheal tube she had just checked, glancing up to catch Penelope’s eye just as the phone was finally answered.

‘Jeremy Lane.’

‘Hi, Jeremy.’ Penelope ignored Belinda’s meaningfully raised eyebrow. She also ignored the fact that Chrissy’s elbow had just dislodged a box of sixteen-gauge cannulae and sent them scattering over the floor at her feet. She even managed to ignore the familiar tingle the sound of Jeremy’s voice engendered. Her tone was entirely professional. ‘Penelope Baker speaking, Jeremy. Trauma Room.’

‘Penny! My day is improving.’ Jeremy’s tone was far from professional. Warm. Distinctly inviting. Penelope had to take a somewhat deeper breath.

‘We’ve got a nineteen-year-old multi-system trauma patient coming in. A paragliding accident. Apparently he has neck and head injuries and attempts to intubate in the field were unsuccessful—’

‘I’m on my way.’ There was no need for Penelope to elaborate. As she summoned his expertise to deal with a potentially life-threatening situation, any hint of flirtation evaporated instantly. Senior anaesthetics registrar Jeremy Lane was now as focused as every member of the emergency resuscitation team. Including Penelope Baker.

‘Estimated time of arrival, four minutes,’ someone called.

The bustle was subsiding as Penelope turned away from the phone. Chrissy’s latest disaster had been rectified and the young nurse now stood out of harm’s way in the corner, her cheeks still flushed scarlet. The preparations in the trauma room were now complete. Both the inner swing doors and the outside doors leading to the ambulance loading bay stood open. The trauma team stood, gowned and gloved, awaiting the arrival of their patient.

Penelope breathed in deeply, soaking in the atmosphere of calm control with the undercurrent that only high levels of adrenaline could produce. This was the part of her job she loved the most. There was no room now for any unprofessional personal reflection. She was simply a member of a highly trained medical team waiting for a chance to do what gave them all the highest level of satisfaction.

Waiting to save a life.

* * *

The ambulance backed swiftly and smoothly up to the loading bay of Wellington’s St Margaret’s Hospital. The doors opened immediately and the stretcher was lifted from the vehicle, raised and wheeled directly to the trauma room. The patient was strapped to a backboard which made the transfer to the bed a swift procedure.

‘On the count of three. One...two...three.’

Belinda unhooked the oxygen tubing from the portable cylinder and reattached it to the overhead supply outlet. Penelope lifted the bag of intravenous fluid out of the way of the approaching shears as clothing was cut away from the patient. She hung the bag on a hook near the oxygen outlet and opened the flow enough to keep the line patent then stepped to one side to make room for the staff members who were attaching the electrodes needed for a 12-lead electrocardiogram and wrapping an automatic blood-pressure cuff around their patient’s upper arm.

The noise level in the trauma room rose as equipment was manoeuvred and the team focused on gathering the observations and information they required immediately.

Penelope moved swiftly back to her position at the drugs trolley. Extra drugs that might be required needed drawing up and labelling. Despite the level of concentration the task entailed, Penelope was still able to assimilate most of what was happening around her.

‘The patient’s name is Richard Milne. He’s nineteen years old.’ Information previously relayed by radio needed repetition and clarification by the ambulance staff. ‘He got blown off course while paragliding and landed in a tree.’

‘BP’s 140 over 80.’ Belinda was able to keep an eye on the monitor screens from her position at the head of the bed.

‘What gauge IV access do we have?’ Emergency Department registrar Mark Wallace was checking the patency of the cannulation done by the paramedics.

‘Fourteen.’

‘Let’s get another line in.’

Penelope watched the circulation nurse collect and deliver the supplies Mark would need. Chrissy was also watching carefully as another bag of IV fluid was set up and the giving set attached and primed with no hint of any tangles in the tubing.

‘He tried to get himself out of his harness to climb down, slipped and was caught around the neck by the harness as he fell.’ A paramedic was speaking to the consultant leading the medical team, Jack Hennessey. ‘He hung long enough to lose consciousness, then the branch broke and he fell approximately six metres. The fall was broken to some extent by lower branches and he landed on a grassed area.’

‘Was he wearing a helmet?’

The helmet was in the hands of a second ambulance officer. ‘It’s damaged at the back,’ he reported. ‘Witnesses didn’t think he was KO’d.’

‘He was conscious on our arrival,’ the paramedic continued. ‘Glasgow Coma Score 14. No neurological deficit. Fractured mid-shaft femur on the left side and a fractured right wrist. GCS dropped en route to 10 with increasing respiratory distress.’

Penelope glanced towards the patient’s head. The level of consciousness was still well down. The teenager’s eyes remained closed and his verbal responses were limited to an occasional moan. The neck collar had now been removed and Belinda Scott was providing manual stabilisation while Jeremy assessed the injury to the neck and the patency of the patient’s airway. Air movement was not good. Penelope could hear the girl’s harsh inhalations clearly through the general noise level. She could also hear Jeremy Lane speaking to the consultant.

‘We’ve got some major oedema here. Trachea’s still midline and there’s no subcutaneous emphysema on the neck but I can’t rule out a tracheal rupture.’

‘Oxygen saturation is down to 85 per cent.’

Jack Hennessey turned to Mark Wallace. ‘See if you can get an arterial blood gas off after you’ve secured that IV line.’ He looked back at Jeremy. ‘Are you going to intubate?’

‘I’ll have a go. Could do with fibreoptic endoscopy, judging by the oedema present, but it won’t be the first time I’ve done it blind.’ Jeremy sounded confident. ‘Could I have someone ready for cricoid pressure? Thanks.’

Penelope looked at the registrar standing beside her at the drugs trolley. Labelled syringes were spread out in front of them, including sedation and paralysis agents and cardiac drugs in case prolonged laryngoscopy led to a deterioration in heart function. Duplicate ampoules were readily available. The registrar acknowledged their readiness with a nod.

‘You do it, Penny. I’m all set.’

Belinda was still holding the patient’s head in a position to protect his neck. A cervical spine injury had not yet been ruled out. Jeremy was hyperventilating their patient with rapid squeezes on the bag mask unit. A neuromuscular blocking agent was administered and then Penelope positioned her fingers on the young man’s neck to press on the cricoid cartilage. With the amount of soft tissue swelling this wasn’t as easy as Penelope would have liked but she was confident she had located the correct spot. She knew that pressure on this part of the Adam’s apple reduced the risk of vomiting and aspiration during the procedure. It also displaced the larynx and aided visualisation for Jeremy.

In this instance it wasn’t enough of an aid. Jeremy had two attempts to pass the intubation tube into the trachea.

‘This is hopeless,’ he pronounced. ‘Bag him, will you, Penny? The suxamethonium won’t wear off for a while yet. We might have to go for a tracheostomy here.’

Penelope fitted the face mask securely and squeezed the bag to provide oxygen to the now paralysed teenager.

‘What about a needle cricothyroidotomy?’ Jack Hennessey suggested. ‘The injury seems to be above the level of the larynx.’

‘That would only give us thirty to forty minutes’ effective ventilation. This lad’s going to need CT scanning to rule out a skull fracture and C-spine injury before he even gets near the operating theatre.’

‘Heart rate’s dropping. Down to 90,’ a nurse warned.

‘And pulse pressure’s widening. One-fifty over 95.’

Tension in the trauma room went up a notch. The signs could be a warning of rising intracranial pressure from an as yet undiagnosed injury. Airway control and adequate ventilation had to be instigated as quickly as possible.

‘Surgical cricothyroidotomy should be enough.’ Mark joined the discussion between Jack and Jeremy. ‘Fewer complications than a tracheostomy, which could be done later in Theatre if it’s needed.’

‘Are you happy to do it?’

Mark nodded. He glanced at Jeremy. ‘Unless you want to?’

Jeremy shrugged. ‘Go for it, mate. I’ll look after the bag mask and Penny can assist you.’

Penelope relinquished the ventilation equipment, taking a quick glance at Jeremy as she did so. Was he bothered by his unusual failure to intubate a patient? Less than happy to hand over the imminent procedure to a newcomer? If so, he didn’t show it. Jeremy smiled at Penelope.

‘Seen one of these done before, Penny?’

‘No, but I know where the kit is. I’ll find it.’

She opened the roll of sterile drape on top of a fresh trolley to reveal the sterilised equipment that would be needed.

‘Clean the whole area over the cricoid and thyroid cartilage,’ Mark directed her. ‘Then we’ll infiltrate with one per cent plain lignocaine.’

Penelope swabbed the young man’s neck.

‘I’m going to stabilise the thyroid cartilage here,’ Mark told the onlookers. ‘Then I make a horizontal incision over the cricothyroid membrane. Scalpel, please.’

Everyone in the trauma room was crowding in for a closer look. This wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Mark appeared confident as he cut carefully into their patient’s throat. He reversed his hold on the scalpel and inserted the handle.

‘It’s helpful to rotate it through ninety degrees to open the airway,’ he explained. ‘Can I have a size 9 endotracheal tube, now, please?’

The tube that Penelope handed him was carefully inserted and the cuff inflated. Penelope had the sutures ready to hand over next. She watched as Mark stitched the tube into place.

‘I’ll get us hooked up.’ Jeremy was adjusting controls on the ventilator. ‘Let’s see if we can get some better-looking oxygen saturation figures.’ He nodded at Mark. ‘Well done.’

‘Thanks.’ With the airway and breathing for their patient now under control, Mark’s attention was diverted. He was examining Richard’s chest for injuries and had his stethoscope in his ears to recheck breathing.

‘Let’s have another neurological check,’ Jack requested. ‘What are the pupils like?’

‘Equal and reactive. Bit more sluggish than they were.’

‘Let’s run off a C-spine, chest and pelvic set of films,’ Jack directed. ‘Then we’ll send him for a CT scan of his head and neck.’ He was watching Mark as the registrar took a moment to re-examine their patient’s abdomen. He glanced at Penelope. ‘Give Neurology a call and get someone down for a consult, will you, please? Don’t worry about Orthopaedics just yet. That femur and wrist can wait.’

The doctors moved back as the radiographers positioned equipment.

‘Chest and abdomen look OK,’ Mark informed Jack. ‘I’d say he’s pretty stable for the moment.’

‘Now that we’ve got that airway sorted out, he is. Nice job, there, Mark.’

‘Thanks.’ Mark was looking at Penelope. ‘Thanks for your help. Penny, isn’t it?’

‘Penelope Baker.’ Penelope wanted to add her compliments about the surgical intervention but, while Mark smiled at her briefly, his attention was obviously still on their patient. He reached for a lead jacket so he could move back while the X-rays were being taken.

‘How bad is that femur?’

‘Feels like a clean break. Minimal swelling thanks to the traction splint. There’s a Colles’ fracture of the right wrist but everything else is superficial. With a bit of luck we might even keep him out of Theatre.’

‘What’s wrong with Theatre?’ Jeremy appeared relaxed as he joined the other doctors. He winked at Penelope as Mark moved away. ‘I’m quite happy in there myself.’ A glance at the wall clock prompted a frown. ‘In fact, I should be in there right now.’

Jack nodded. ‘Mark can take over monitoring the ventilation. Thanks for your help, Jeremy.’

Penelope watched the senior anaesthetics registrar leave the room. An Australian, Jeremy Lane had only taken up his new position at St Margaret’s a couple of months ago but Penelope had noticed him the first time he had come into the emergency department. Tall, blond and lean, Jeremy looked as though he’d spent a lot of his time on Australian beaches to acquire that tan. Maybe a lot of time surfing or swimming as well to gain the muscular build that Penelope hadn’t been the only one to notice. Neither had she been the only one to notice the fact that the anaesthetist wore no wedding ring.

Penelope swallowed a small sigh. Jeremy was undeniably good-looking and she didn’t mind that he had left the trauma room now without a backward glance. The wink had been sufficient for the moment. Jeremy had also made sure that she’d had front-line involvement in the unusual procedure. Penelope was rapt. This had been an exciting resuscitation and it looked as though their young patient was not only going to survive: he might even come through relatively unscathed.

‘We’ve finished here,’ a radiographer called. ‘We’ll have the films through on screen in a minute.’

‘Right. We’ll tidy up our secondary survey and get things moving,’ Jack directed. ‘Let’s have a few extra hands here for a log roll.’

* * *

‘Wasn’t that awesome? Imagine just cutting into someone’s throat like that.’

‘Mmm.’ Penelope dropped the bloodied scalpel into the sharps disposal container and put the holder with the other instruments destined for resterilisation. ‘You’d better put the mask from the bag mask unit in with this lot, Bindy.’

Belinda Scott pulled the mask free from the unit. ‘He’s good, isn’t he?’

‘Who?’

‘Mark Wallace. Our new registrar.’

‘Mmm.’ Penelope turned her attention to the suction unit. She stripped off the disposable tubing, coiling it up as she reached for the biohazard rubbish bag. ‘I wonder why Jeremy didn’t do the cricothy-roidotomy?’

‘Maybe he didn’t know how,’ Belinda suggested wickedly. Penelope’s dismissive snort made her grin. ‘Come on, that’s your cue for telling me how wonderful Dr Lane is...yet again!’

Penelope remained silent. She rolled up soiled drapes and stuffed them into the contaminated linen holder. The two nurses were alone as they cleared up the trauma room. The highly equipped area needed to be made completely ready for any new incoming emergency. If Richard Milne returned to the emergency department after his CT scan he would go into another area, but it was more likely that he would be transferred directly to the intensive care unit.

Belinda watched Penelope for a moment before returning to her task of restocking the drug cupboard. Then she shook her head with an expression of fond exasperation.

‘For goodness sake, Pen. If you feel this strongly about the man, then do something about it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Ask him out.’

Penelope’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you kidding? I couldn’t do that!’

‘Why not? I would.’

‘You would, too.’ Penelope eyed her friend enviously. ‘Why can’t I be more like you?’ The frustrated shake of her head made the shoulder-length tumble of black curls bounce.

‘You’ll just have to try harder.’ Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘Remember our New Year’s resolution? It was you, after all, who proposed we swear off men for life. ‘‘Who needs them?’’ you said. With great conviction, I seem to remember.’

‘I’d had rather a lot to drink,’ Penelope reminded her. ‘And it was only a month after Greg had gone back to what’s-her-name.’

‘Sharon,’ Belinda supplied helpfully. ‘Greg dumped you and took off with his old girlfriend and you were unbearably miserable.’

‘I wasn’t!’

Belinda smiled at the scowl she was receiving. ‘I should know. I was the one who had to live with you.’ She turned to lock the drug cupboard. ‘He’d ruined your life, you said.’

‘I’ve recovered.’

‘Yes. With the help of our New Year’s resolution. You’ve been doing rather well so far. Don’t weaken.’

‘It is November, Bindy.’

‘Almost Christmas,’ Belinda agreed. ‘And then it’ll be New Year again.’ She grinned widely. ‘We can renew our vows.’

Penelope sighed. ‘How do you do it? You act like you don’t give a damn, and men can’t stay away from you.’

‘It’s because I’m not acting. I don’t give a damn and neither should you, Pen. Love ’em and leave ’em—like they do to us. No strings.’

‘Maybe I want strings. I’m thirty, Bindy. I’m an aunt five times over. Five and a half times actually, and now it’s my baby sister who’s expecting a baby.’

‘How is Rachael?’ Belinda seemed eager to be diverted from the depressing direction of Penelope’s thoughts. ‘She hasn’t been around to the flat for ages.’

‘I haven’t seen much of her since she got pregnant.’ Penelope bit her lip. ‘Maybe I’m jealous,’ she confessed. ‘Rachael’s three years younger than me and she has everything I’ve always wanted. A fantastic husband, a great job, a baby on the way and...and blonde hair.’

Belinda laughed. ‘So—bleach your hair!’

‘Tried that when I was fifteen.’ Penelope snorted. ‘It looked totally disgusting.’ She shook her head. ‘That was half a lifetime ago. Do you know, my mother had four children all going to school by the time she was my age?’

‘Fate worse than death,’ Belinda stated cheerfully. ‘I should know. Been there, done that.’

‘You didn’t have any kids.’

‘No, thank goodness.’ Belinda reached to switch off the overhead lights. ‘Look, Pen, you can have a baby when you’re in your forties these days. You’ve got another whole decade of freedom.’

‘I don’t want freedom,’ Penelope responded with conviction. ‘I want...’ She sighed heavily. ‘I want Jeremy Lane.’

‘Fine.’ Belinda sounded decisive. ‘You can have him.’

Penelope grinned, pausing as she headed for the doors pushing a linen bag. ‘How?’

‘Leave it with me. I’ll think of something.’ Belinda followed Penelope out of the trauma room. ‘Just don’t marry the man.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, are you planning to change your name when you get married?’

‘Probably.’ Penelope skirted the ambulance stretcher waiting by the sorting desk. A middle-aged man was holding a blood-soaked towel under his nose. ‘Why?’

‘Have you considered what your name would be if you married Jeremy?’

‘Shh!’ Penelope’s glance around them was anxious but the emergency department staff were all gainfully employed at enough of a distance not to overhear Belinda’s indiscreet query. Still, Penelope kept her voice well down, unable to resist a response. ‘Penelope Lane,’ she whispered. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘‘‘Penny Lane’’? You know—the Beatles’ song?’ Belinda began humming loudly.

‘Go away, Bindy.’ Penelope couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

Penelope was still smiling as she moved back to the sorting desk. Her name was on the whiteboard to take the next patient and it looked like she had a nosebleed to sort out. She had to concede that Penny Lane might be a name that could cause some amusement but Penelope Lane had a much more dignified ring to it.

In fact, it had a very nice ring to it indeed.

CHAPTER TWO

THERE was something distinctly unsettling about pale-coloured eyes.

These were pale blue eyes with a darker rim that seemed to emphasise the intensity of the stare that Penelope was receiving.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Penny.’ Penelope glanced at the booking-in paperwork in her hand. ‘And you’re Aaron, aren’t you?’

He nodded without returning the smile. ‘Aaron Jacobs. Do you like being a nurse?’

‘Of course. It’s my job. Come this way, Aaron. Have you been waiting long?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I know how busy you guys are. Where are we going?’

‘Cubicle 10. It’s this way.’

‘What’s going to happen? Are you coming with me, Penny?’

‘I’m going to be your nurse,’ Penelope confirmed. ‘I’ll check you out and then one of the doctors will come to see you. It’s your wrist that you’ve hurt, isn’t it?’ She glanced at the tall, lanky young man walking beside her. His right hand cradled his left elbow, the injured wrist and hand tucked inside a faded and grubby denim jacket.

‘That’s right. I whacked it with a hammer.’

‘Accidentally, I hope!’ Penelope laughed and her patient finally smiled at her. ‘Here we are, Aaron. Let’s get your jacket off so I can see your wrist and then I’ll get you to climb up on the bed.’

Penelope unbuttoned the cuffs of the jacket and eased it carefully off the injured side. The left wrist looked very swollen, a nasty pale lump with an inflamed red edge at the base of the thumb.

‘You’ve certainly given that a good thump,’ Penelope observed. ‘What were you using? A sledgehammer?’

Aaron smiled again as he climbed up to sit on the edge of the bed. He held his left arm out towards Penelope. ‘It hurts,’ he informed her.

‘I’m not surprised. Can you wiggle your fingers?’

Aaron complied with a groan. ‘That hurts, too.’

Penelope took hold of the hand gently. ‘Can you squeeze my fingers?’

The pressure was surprisingly firm. ‘That’s pretty good.’ Penelope nodded. ‘OK, you can let go now.’

‘Do you like being a nurse?’

Penelope’s nod was brisk. She took a careful breath, trying to detect any recent alcohol consumption on her patient’s part. It wasn’t just that Aaron was repeating the question he had asked only minutes before. There was something about his stare that was vaguely disturbing.

‘Nurses help people, don’t they?’

‘They do.’ Penelope picked up the clipboard and pen lying on the end of the bed. ‘I need to write a few more details for the doctor here, Aaron. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-five. How old are you, Penny?’

‘A lot older than you.’ Penelope wasn’t going to encourage a personal conversation. ‘What were you doing at the time of your accident?’

‘Knocking a hole in my wall.’

‘And what happened?’

‘I was holding a bit of wood that got stuck. I aimed a really big hit at the end of it but I missed.’

‘What time did this happen?’

‘Dunno. I don’t wear a watch.’

‘Was it this afternoon?’

‘Yeah. Couple of hours ago, I guess.’

About the time that the resuscitation on Richard Milne had been in full swing. Penelope’s thoughts were diverted momentarily as she wondered how the young paraglider was doing. There had been no time to follow up any developments because of the stream of minor cases she’d had under her care. No opportunities to talk to Belinda or even think about the plans her friend might be hatching to get her a little closer to Jeremy. Penelope sighed lightly. No chance of having to call in an anaesthetics registrar for this patient. She pulled the blood-pressure stand towards the bed.

‘I’m going to take your blood pressure, Aaron. I need to wrap this cuff around your arm. Can you pull your shirtsleeve up for me, please?’

‘Sure.’

Penelope had to stand closer to her patient as she applied the cuff. She avoided eye contact but she could feel his gaze on her.

‘You’re beautiful, Penny.’

Penelope’s smile was extremely brief. She fitted the earpieces of her stethoscope into place and positioned the disc on the inside of Aaron’s elbow, apparently concentrating on her task. The vital sign measurement was automatic, however, and Penelope’s thoughts strayed again. Did Jeremy think she was beautiful? He had certainly managed to make her feel attractive over the last few weeks but did she have genuine cause to believe that? The comments had been few in reality but treasured all the more for their rarity.

Like the day she hadn’t tried to tame her wildly curly black hair into its usual short ponytail. She had just taken a section from the front at both sides and drawn them into a small plait at the back, leaving the rest of her curls to cover her ears with the ends just touching her shoulders. Rules about hairstyles were much more relaxed these days and the only comment she had received had been from Jeremy.

‘Love your hair like that,’ he’d said. ‘It really suits you.’

Penelope had been wearing her hair exactly like that ever since. Had Jeremy noticed? She released the valve on the sphygmomanometer. ‘One-twenty over 80,’ she informed Aaron. ‘Perfectly normal.’ Penelope placed her fingers on her patient’s wrist, her gaze now fastened on the second hand of her watch. ‘I’ll just check your pulse now, Aaron.’

He was still staring at her with those oddly pale eyes. Penelope’s eyes weren’t pale. What was it Jeremy had said? It hadn’t been long after she’d met him for the first time. She had been doing the cricoid pressure on an intubation that Jeremy had been called in for. A very obese woman who’d suffered a major stroke. That had been a difficult case to intubate as well and their heads had been very close together at one stage during the procedure. Successfully completed, Penelope had been assisting in tying the endotracheal tube firmly into place and Jeremy had caught her eye. His voice had been low enough not to be overheard by the other staff members nearby.

‘Do you realise,’ he’d murmured, ‘that your eyes are exactly the colour of the delphiniums my mother used to grow in her garden?’ Jeremy had smiled at her, holding the eye contact for another split second. His final comment had been almost inaudible. ‘My favourite flowers.’

Penelope recorded the baseline heart and respiration rate she had now completed on Aaron Jacobs. She had the feeling her own rates had just increased significantly thanks to the direction of her straying thoughts. She turned her attention firmly back to the task in hand.

‘Do you have any other medical conditions you’re being treated for, Aaron?’

‘Asthma,’ he responded. ‘I’ve got a Ventolin inhaler but I don’t need it very often.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No.’

‘Are you allergic to any medications?’

‘No.’

‘How bad is the pain in your wrist at the moment?’

‘Pretty bad.’

‘On a scale of zero to ten, with zero being no pain and ten being the worst you could imagine, what score would you give it?’

‘About an eight.’

‘OK. I’ll see about getting you something to help with that. You’re going to need your wrist X-rayed to make sure you haven’t broken anything and then a doctor will come and see you.’ Penelope pulled back the cubicle curtain. ‘You might have a bit of a wait, I’m afraid. We’re quite busy today.’

‘That’s cool. I don’t mind waiting. Will you come back to look after me?’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I’ve organised some pain relief for you. There’s a buzzer beside the bed if you need it and I won’t be too far away. I’ve got other patients I need to take care of as well.’

Aaron settled back onto his pillow. ‘Leave the curtain open, won’t you?’ he requested. ‘That way I’ll be able to see you when you go past.’

Penelope complied, although she didn’t much like the thought of Aaron Jacobs watching out for her. She would try and make sure she didn’t need to go past cubicle 10 too often. Penelope almost smiled wryly at the thought. If it had been Jeremy in cubicle 10 she would have been walking past as often as possible—like she did when he was in the emergency department and she hadn’t been lucky enough to be involved in whatever case he had been called in for. She enjoyed providing a distraction almost as much as working with the man. Funny how you knew when someone was watching you even when you were being deliberately casual and not looking in their direction.

Penelope headed for cubicle 2. Perhaps Mrs Jennings was back from her ultrasound now and the provisional diagnosis of fibroids had been confirmed, which would explain the profuse intermenstrual bleeding the middle-aged woman was experiencing. Mrs Jennings was probably going to need admission in any case due to her severe anaemia. Cubicle 2 was still empty but Penelope took a minute to tidy up. Packaging and used IV supplies had been discarded on top of the locker after IV fluid replacement had been initiated. It was easy to let her attention wander again from such an automatic task.

Penelope’s thoughts had come full circle now. On balance, she did believe that Jeremy found her attractive. Maybe even beautiful. She hadn’t believed it at first. A lot of new doctors were inclined to flirt and it took time to decide whether that was simply the way they treated all the women in their orbit. Jeremy had never made any personal comments to other nurses that Penelope had overheard, however, and Belinda had told her he’d never shown the slightest interest in her. Surely if Jeremy was that way inclined then Penelope’s flatmate would have been a prime target. Belinda was gorgeous—tall and slim, with the combination of a long mane of red-gold hair and bright green eyes that were enough to send most male newcomers into a spin.

Yes. Penelope had every reason to believe that, for some obscure reason, Jeremy had singled her out to feel special...and she did. For the first time in longer than Penelope cared to remember she felt special, attractive. Desirable, even... And it felt so good. Greg’s blatant rejection in favour of what’s-her-name had been the last of a long run of romantic disasters. Penelope’s self-esteem and any belief in her desirability had hit rock bottom with a resounding clunk. It was no wonder she had fallen in love with Jeremy.

Penelope stopped with a lurch, halfway to the rubbish bin, her hands full of empty packaging. The inside of a used-up roll of tape fell and bounced on the linoleum. Was she actually in love with Jeremy Lane? In love with a man she hadn’t even kissed? Penelope thought about that tingle she got every time she heard his voice. The way her skin could feel when he was watching her. That feeling that was a bit more than a tingle—the one that always started low down in her abdomen when their eyes made contact. She could feel it now, just thinking about it, and it was strong enough to be unmistakable. Sheer physical desire. Penelope knew herself well enough to know she didn’t feel that way unless she was seriously in love.

The rubbish fitted neatly into the bin and Penelope stooped to retrieve the cardboard ring left over from the roll of adhesive tape. Yes. She was definitely in love with Jeremy and it was time things moved ahead. It shouldn’t be difficult if his attraction to her was genuine. Maybe Belinda was right. Or sort of right. There was no way Penelope could take the initiative by asking him out. That would be risking a rejection that could possibly be even more painful than Greg’s defection. There had to be a way of setting up an opportunity that Jeremy couldn’t miss—not just one that he wouldn’t want to miss. Not if he felt the same way she did. Belinda was bound to have some good ideas.

Penelope’s quick scan confirmed that cubicle 2 was acceptably tidy. She would see about some medication for Aaron Jacobs and if Mrs Jennings still wasn’t back from her ultrasound she’d grab a few minutes for a coffee. With a bit of luck, Belinda might be having a quiet spell and they could talk. That way Penelope wouldn’t have to wait until she got home that night to hatch a plan. She didn’t want to wait. Buoyed by her analysis of Jeremy’s genuine interest, Penelope felt a new confidence blooming. The time was right. The man was right. All that was needed was a way of pulling it all together.

Disappointingly, Belinda was heading away from the staffroom when Penelope arrived ten minutes later.

‘I was hoping to catch you. Have you finished your break?’

‘Nope. Just starting.’ Belinda held up a polystyrene cup full of coffee. ‘I’ve got ten minutes. I’m heading outside for a spot of fresh air. My last patient was a rectal bleed.’

‘Yuck.’ Penelope grimaced sympathetically. The smell that accompanied such a patient was as distinctive as it was unpleasant. ‘I’ll get my water out of the fridge and join you. I could do with some fresh air myself.’

The view of an overcrowded car park was not attractive and the breeze was chilly, but it was always good to escape completely if only briefly during a busy shift. It gave them a chance to forget professional matters for a few minutes. It was also a chance for Penelope to pay attention to her more personal preoccupation.

‘I think you’re right, Bindy,’ she announced.

‘Of course I am.’ Belinda grinned. ‘What about, in particular?’

‘Jeremy. It’s time to do something.’

Belinda raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to ask him out?’

‘No way.’ Penelope shook her head decisively. ‘He’s going to ask me out. I just need to set it up.’ Her smile was hopeful. ‘I’m sure he will. If he wasn’t interested he wouldn’t say the things he does. And he wouldn’t keep giving me those looks.’

‘Hmm.’ Belinda didn’t sound convinced. ‘He could be toying with you, you know. He might just be playing the game of getting you interested to prove to himself that he still has what it takes. He’s no spring chicken.’

‘He’s not exactly old. Thirty-eight maybe. Or forty.’

‘Probably forty-five,’ Belinda decided. ‘Grey hairs are less obvious on blonds.’ She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I suppose he’s not bad-looking but he’s not the only one. That new registrar of ours isn’t bad either. What’s his name?’

‘Mark Wallace.’ Penelope shrugged. She hadn’t taken much notice of Mark in the few days he’d been in the department. He had certainly performed impressively this morning, however, with the emergency procedure on the young paraglider. Penelope was easily diverted. ‘How’s Richard doing? Have you heard?’

‘He’s in Intensive Care. Apparently the CT scan didn’t show up any major brain damage or injury to the trachea and the swelling is going down with the ice packs and anti-inflammatory treatment. They’re going to set the fractures later today and they’ll take him off ventilation as soon as they’re sure the swelling is under control. I think he’s going to be fine.’

‘That’s fantastic.’ Penelope’s smile was very satisfied. ‘He could have died. Great case, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ Belinda drained her coffee-cup, checked her watch and sighed. ‘Two more minutes. I’m ready to go home.’

Penelope sighed as well. Belinda hadn’t been as supportive as she’d hoped so far. ‘What am I going to do, Bindy? About Jeremy, I mean?’

‘Let him think you haven’t got the slightest interest in him,’ Belinda advised. ‘Find someone else. There’s a new rotation of house-surgeons in there. Some of them are quite tasty.’

‘Bindy!’ Penelope would have been genuinely shocked if she hadn’t known her friend so well. She still shook her head in mild disapproval. ‘You can’t go round eyeing up every man that comes into the emergency department as a potential plaything.’

‘Why not? You can bet your boots that’s exactly what they’re doing to us.’ Belinda crumpled the polystyrene cup. ‘Come on. Back to the salt mines.’

‘I don’t want to just play.’ Penelope followed Belinda reluctantly. ‘I want something real.’

‘And you really think that Jeremy is the real thing?’

Penelope’s nod was solemn.

‘In that case, you need to spend some time away from work with him. Have a few drinks somewhere. Meet up at a party.’

Penelope nodded again, more happily this time, as the nurses skirted the car park. This sounded like a plan, though not an easily implemented one.

‘Nobody’s having parties at the moment. The weather’s still a bit iffy for barbecues and it’s too early for the Christmas rush.’

‘We could have a party.’

‘In our flat? We’d be lucky to squeeze six people into our living room.’

‘Hmm.’ Belinda paused as they reached the ambulance bay. ‘Where does he live?’

‘Nowhere. He asked me to go house-hunting with him a couple of weeks ago, remember?’

‘Oh, yes. The day he didn’t show up.’

‘He got called in.’

‘So he said. After he’d left you moping around, waiting all day.’

‘He couldn’t ring.’ Penelope had to defend Jeremy. ‘He was in Theatre.’

Belinda’s expression was enough to remind Penelope that even operating theatres were equipped with telephones but she didn’t press her point. ‘He must live somewhere.’

‘He’s got a room in ‘‘The Hovel’’.’

‘Aha! Excellent.’

‘Why?’ While the nickname for the huge, old house that had been converted to single doctors’ quarters dated from the days before extensive renovation, it was still not generally considered the most desirable residence.

‘There’s a bar downstairs. What time do you finish today?’

‘Six o’clock.’

‘Even better. I’m off at six-thirty. We’ll go and park ourselves in the bar. He’s bound to float past and we’ll nab him and offer him a drink.’

‘We can’t just go into the bar. It’s for residents only.’

‘And their guests. Matt Greenway is living there and he’s been after me to have a drink with him for weeks. Consider yourself invited, my friend. Wear something sexy.’

‘I don’t do sexy. I’ve only got my jeans here, anyway.’

‘Jeans can be very sexy.’

‘Only on a figure like yours. On mine, jeans are practical.’

‘What else did you wear in this morning? I can’t remember.’

‘Red jumper, white shirt.’

‘The red jumper’s good. Nice neckline. Ditch the shirt, though. Much sexier with nothing underneath.’

‘I’ll itch.’

The ambulance backing into the bay was a reminder that the two nurses had extended their break for too long. Belinda gave Penelope an exasperated glance. ‘Look, Penny—do you want to do something about him or not?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Well, this is it. The best plan I can come up with. The rest is up to you.’

‘OK.’ Penelope took a very deep breath. ‘I’ll do it. No shirt.’

* * *

The plan had got off to a wonderful start. Matt Greenway seemed delighted to have Penelope’s company if it gave him a chance to spend time with Belinda. There were enough other people in the bar to make the atmosphere casual and Jeremy did, indeed, float past. Belinda took her cue perfectly.

‘Jeremy! Come and join us. You can give us an update on our paraglider.’

Jeremy nodded at Belinda and smiled warmly at Penelope. ‘I’ll get a drink and be right with you,’ he promised.

Now, however, the wheels appeared to have fallen off the plan. Jeremy had his drink but he wasn’t moving away from the bar. He was deep in conversation with Mark Wallace.

Belinda looked annoyed. She nudged Penelope. ‘You’ll have to go over there,’ she whispered, ‘and break it up.’

Penelope was disconcerted. ‘How?’

‘Go and get us some more drinks. Join the conversation and then steer Jeremy over here. Tell him I’m waiting to hear about our patient.’

Penelope moved before she had time to get nervous. The barman smiled at her.

‘Same again?’

Penelope nodded. She was listening to the conversation between the two men beside her.

‘I would have gone for a tracheostomy myself. We couldn’t be sure that the injury level was entirely above the larynx.’

‘It was worth a try. I’ve been taught to save tracheostomy for a last resort. There’s a high morbidity and the associated mortality risk is about three per cent. That’s not insignificant. I saw a burns patient die having one attempted a while back, and it left a major impression on me.’

The barman was sliding glasses across the bar towards Penelope. ‘Two white wines and one lager. Is that the lot?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

Jeremy turned at the sound of Penelope’s voice. ‘Penny. This is a lovely surprise. What brings you into The Hovel?’

‘My friend, Belinda. She was too shy to come by herself.’

Belinda’s peal of laughter from the other side of the room sounded anything but shy. Jeremy’s smile made Penelope feel as though he had seen through the plan instantly. She tried to ignore the threatened prickle of humiliation by glancing at Jeremy’s companion.

‘Hi, Mark. Are you living here, too?’

‘For the moment. I want to get my own place as soon as I can. I’m going to rent a car tomorrow to have a look at a couple of houses for rent around the harbour. I’d like a sea view.’

‘I love the sea, too. I love the smell of salt air and being able to hear the waves at night.’ Penelope found herself smiling. Mark was easy to talk to.

‘Makes the cars rust,’ Jeremy broke in. ‘I’d rather be up on the hills and just have the view.’

Penelope turned to collect her change from the barman. Was that how Jeremy saw her, perhaps? As part of a view? Jeremy was making this difficult. If she invited him to join their table now, it could be seen as a very obvious ploy to throw herself at the man. The flash of irritation took Penelope by surprise. So did the memory of a piece of Belinda’s advice. Maybe letting Jeremy think she wasn’t interested wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe letting him think that she might be interested in someone else was an even better idea. Penelope picked up the wineglasses. She smiled at Mark.

‘I finish at two tomorrow,’ she told him casually. ‘If you don’t want the hassle of renting a car I’d be happy to play taxi driver. I was born and raised in Wellington so I know my way around.’

‘Thanks.’ Mark looked delighted. ‘I’d really appreciate that, Penny. How ’bout we meet here at two-thirty?’

‘I’ll be here.’ Penelope smiled again and included Jeremy in her glance. ‘See you later, Jeremy.’

Belinda’s dismayed expression at Penelope returning to their table alone was less pronounced than the one Jeremy had been trying to conceal when she’d left the bar. Penelope smiled reassuringly at Belinda. She’d fill her in later and thank her for having given her the idea in the first place. Plan B had definite possibilities. Penelope stole a glance at the bar and caught Jeremy’s thoughtful stare in her direction. She looked away hurriedly and bit back a satisfied smile.

Plan B appeared to be working perfectly already.

CHAPTER THREE

PENELOPE knew she ought to be feeling guilty.

Here she was, heading out on a date with a man who had no idea of the part he was playing in Plan B. But Penelope wasn’t feeling guilty at all. In fact, Mark’s company was so relaxing she could forget about Plan B and the frustration in her life that had led to its creation. Even the weather was doing its bit to add to a pleasant afternoon. The dark clouds and squalls of heavy spring rain had cleared to leave only cotton-wool puffs scudding across a brilliant blue sky. The stiff breeze was still chilly and Penelope was glad she had chosen to wear her red jumper again—this time with the warmth of a shirt underneath. Woolly socks and trainers on her feet might not be as sexy as the summer sandals she had considered briefly but, then, this wasn’t a real ‘date’. Merely an outing. A helpful gesture towards a new colleague who was turning out to be very pleasant company.

Mark was driving Penelope’s small hatchback car. It had been his own suggestion and Penelope had been happy to hand over the keys. Now she could really relax and enjoy whatever the afternoon had to offer. She loved the drive around the harbour and one of the houses Mark had lined up to view was quite remote—right out past Scorching Bay.

‘You need to get into the right-hand lane here,’ she directed. ‘We want to go through the Mount Victoria tunnel and then follow the main road down to the harbour.’ Penelope watched as Mark checked the rear-view mirrors and indicated their lane change.

‘It would be at least a twenty-minute drive to the hospital from Scorching Bay,’ she warned Mark. ‘Probably a lot more in heavy traffic. Won’t that be a hassle?’

‘Could be worth it,’ Mark responded. ‘It’s not as if we’re on call and have to come in to work at a moment’s notice. We have set shift hours. Sometimes you need to be able to put real distance between home and work. Especially in a department like ours.’

Penelope agreed readily. Emergency medicine was usually full on. Huge numbers of patients could often take a heavy toll on both professional and personal resources.

‘What do you do, Penny? To switch off from work?’

‘Sleep mostly.’ Penelope laughed. ‘And spend time with friends.’

‘Any particular friends?’ Mark’s query was casual but Penelope sensed he was sounding out whether she had a man in her life. She suppressed the pang of guilt firmly.

‘Only Bindy. Belinda Scott,’ she elaborated in response to the questioning expression Mark gave her. ‘She’s a nurse in Emergency, too. Tall. Long, reddish hair.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Mark nodded. He had noticed Belinda. Of course he had. Any man would have noticed Belinda.

‘She’s my flatmate.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘We share a townhouse tucked up on Mount Victoria. Right on the border of the park. One of the walkways goes past our back door. Bindy often drags me out running. She’s an exercise freak.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘Not really,’ Penelope confessed. She looked down at her sturdy, denim-clad legs and her laugh was self-deprecating. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘No,’ Mark responded promptly. He flashed her a sideways grin. ‘I’m a bit of couch potato myself. You look just fine to me. Are we still in the right lane here?’

‘Yes. There’s a big roundabout coming up. We go left and that’ll take us onto Shelly Bay Road. Just keep the harbour on your left after that and we can’t go wrong.’ Penelope stole a glance at her companion. There wasn’t much wrong with the way Mark looked even if he was a couch potato, which was doubtful. He wasn’t particularly tall—maybe five nine or ten—and his shoulders were broad for his height so he couldn’t be considered lean, yet the impression he gave was one of nice proportions. Maybe it was his colouring that was appealing. The black hair and very dark green eyes. Or maybe it was his laid-back manner. Quiet but confident. Friendly but thoughtful at the same time. Penelope had the feeling that Mark’s loyalty might not be given easily but once it was given it would be there to stay. She liked that. Mark had the makings of being a good friend.

The silence between them was quite comfortable but Penelope wanted to talk. She wanted to learn more about him.

‘I’ve got a sister in Wellington as well. Rachael. She’s the only one in my family left here so I try and see her as much as I can.’ Penelope made a mental note to call her sister when she got home. She hadn’t tried very hard lately to spend time with Rachael but it hadn’t been until her conversation with Belinda yesterday that she had realised why she had been unconsciously avoiding contact. Jealousy was a poisonous emotion and Penelope had no intention of letting its tentacles gain any more of a hold on her life. ‘Rachael’s a vet,’ she told Mark brightly. ‘She’s three years younger than me and she’s expecting her first baby next year. She and Tom are very excited.’

‘I can imagine.’ Mark’s smile looked almost wistful. Penelope wondered if he had yearnings for a family himself. Or did he already have one? An ex-wife and a few children tucked away somewhere? He hadn’t needed reminding of the direction to take at the roundabout. They headed out along Shelly Bay Road.

‘That will make you an aunt,’ Mark observed. ‘Is that a first for you?’

‘Hardly!’ Penelope laughed. ‘My oldest sister, Sandra, has two children and my brother, John, has three. Sandra lives in Auckland, though, and John’s been in Australia for ten years so I’ve never seen much of those nieces and nephews. Rachael’s baby will be the first one I’ll have a lot to do with.’ It would also be the first pregnancy to watch developing. The first pregnancy to be expected to discuss in intimate detail and the first nursery to help plan. Of course Rachael didn’t want to talk about anything else these days. Penelope would have been exactly the same.

‘You’re very lucky to have such a big family,’ Mark told her. ‘I was an only child.’

‘I wanted to be an only child.’ Penelope grinned.

‘Why?’ Mark sounded astonished.

‘Both my sisters are very clever and beautiful. And they’ve both got blonde hair.’ Penelope was still smiling. ‘I was the black sheep of the family.’

Mark’s glance was admonishing. ‘Stop putting yourself down,’ he directed firmly. ‘You’re an extremely attractive woman.’

‘Thanks.’ Penelope glanced away in embarrassment. Heavens, she hoped that Mark didn’t think she had been fishing for a compliment. She bit her bottom lip, torn between embarrassment and pleasure. That was twice in two days that someone had commented positively on her looks. Even if one of them had been a rather weird patient, it was still flattering. Penelope let her gaze sweep the harbour with its usual level of interesting shipping activity as she tried to think of something casual to say.

The inter-island ferry was just leaving the wharf on the far side. A huge container ship was waiting its turn to dock, two tugboats guarding its bows. Several small fishing vessels were out and a keen yachtsman in a small craft was making the most of the stiff breeze, bouncing over the choppy water close to the road.

‘Not the best day for sailing.’ Penelope needed to break the short silence that was vaguely uncomfortable for the first time. She didn’t want Mark to think that he had stepped over a boundary and said something unwelcome. The comment sounded deliberately casual, however, and made Penelope feel more, rather than less, uncomfortable.

Mark’s glance was reassuring. Penelope suspected he had noticed her discomfort and was quite happy to take their conversation in whatever direction she preferred.

‘It does look a bit rough out there.’ Mark’s gaze was now back on the road. He was negotiating its frequent turns competently. ‘I can see why they’ve got that metal barrier fence between us and the harbour. This wouldn’t be a pleasant drive in really bad weather.’

‘No, and Wellington is renowned for delivering plenty of that.’

‘So the myth is based on reality? I grew up in the South Island,’ Mark told her. ‘In Dunedin. We all knew Wellington’s reputation for foul weather but I thought it might be exaggerated. Dunedin’s not exactly tropical.’

‘I’m ashamed to say I’ve never been that far south,’ Penelope confessed. ‘We used to have summer camping holidays around Nelson but that’s right up the top of the South Island and the weather was always perfect as I remember it.’

‘Childhood summer holidays always seem to have had great weather, don’t they?’ Mark looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe we just don’t remember the bad stuff. I used to go and stay with some cousins in Central Otago. It was wonderful.’

‘Did you do your training in Dunedin?’

Mark nodded. ‘I moved to Australia as a registrar and then went to England for a few years. Too long,’ he added quietly.

‘You didn’t like it?’

‘The job was great. That’s where I fell in love with emergency medicine. Things didn’t work out in the end, though.’ Mark paused for a second as though considering how much he wanted to say on the topic. An imperceptible shake of his head and a brighter tone to his voice suggested he had chosen a new direction. ‘No hope of getting a consultancy there. I would have been a grandfather by the time I stopped being a senior registrar.’

Penelope blinked. ‘So you’ve got children, then?’

‘What?’ Mark was startled. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘One generally needs to have kids to become a grandfather. Hard to skip that bit.’

Mark laughed. ‘It was just an expression. I’ve never been married and I haven’t got any children, though I certainly hope to one of these days. Hopefully not too far in the future. I’m not getting any younger.’

‘Join the club,’ Penelope said with feeling. ‘I turned thirty earlier this year. It’s kind of a major milestone.’

‘Hardly remember it,’ Mark said cheerfully. ‘Wait until you’re pushing forty and you’ll really have something to worry about.’

‘You’re not pushing forty, are you?’ Penelope’s glance was surprised. No hints of significant grey were obvious in Mark’s dark hair and the lines around his eyes looked far more attributable to laughter than advancing age.

‘I’m thirty-six,’ Mark told her. ‘Definitely on the downward slide.’

‘Yeah, right!’ Penelope returned his smile. So. Mark was looking to settle down. He wanted a family. He’d never been married. And here he was starting a new job in a new city and he was living in single quarters. Was he looking for a house because someone significant in his life was planning to join him in Wellington? Somehow, Penelope didn’t think this was the case.

‘What brought you back to New Zealand?’ Penelope found herself asking. ‘Besides the lack of career advancement in England.’

‘I left England nearly two years ago,’ Mark responded after a tiny pause. ‘I’ve been in Auckland but I knew it wasn’t where I wanted to settle down. It was just the first job that came up when I decided to leave.’ Mark’s tone suggested that he’d taken the first escape route that had presented itself. What had he been escaping from? Professional dissatisfaction or something rather more personal? Penelope instinctively knew that it wasn’t a subject either of them were ready to discuss. It was time to move back to safer territory.

‘You’ll find Wellington’s weather a bit of a shock after Auckland,’ she commented. She cringed slightly as she finished her sentence. Couldn’t she think of something more original than the weather for a change of subject?

Mark didn’t seem to mind. ‘It rains all the time in Auckland,’ he said obligingly. ‘Very depressing. It’s hot and wet.’

‘It’s cold and wet here.’ Penelope smiled. ‘And Auckland’s storms have nothing on ours. Wellington’s storms are unique. Gale-force winds blowing in from Cook Straight and rain that goes sideways.’

‘But on a nice day it’s perfect,’ Mark pointed out. ‘It must be one of the prettiest cities in the country with the hills and this harbour.’

‘Sure,’ Penelope agreed. ‘On a nice day it’s perfect. All three of them a year,’ she added mischievously.

Mark laughed. ‘Just as well I enjoy the benefits of bad weather, then.’

‘Such as?’

‘Roaring log fires. Hot soup. The security of being shut away in a house with the sound of rain beating down on a tin roof.’

The notion of being shut away in front of a roaring fire with Mark wasn’t unpleasant. Penelope could almost hear the rain on the roof. She stared ahead in silence for a minute as she allowed herself to enjoy the contemplation. The road opened to a reasonably straight stretch with the next bend well ahead. The barrier fence flashed past on their left, cutting them off from the drop to a narrow, rocky foreshore and steep slope into the water. The breeze was whipping up tiny whitecaps on the surface of the harbour. To their right, the land sloped upwards. The houses were becoming much sparser and many of the dwellings were concealed above gardens of hardy native trees.

Penelope was aware of the child in her peripheral line of vision even as her attention was caught by the large, brightly coloured ball bouncing onto the road well ahead of them.

‘Oh, my God!’ The words were torn from Penelope as she stared in horror at the rapidly unfolding scene.

The small child followed the ball onto the road just as an oncoming car was rounding the next bend. The driver in the small red hatchback that was a close match to Penelope’s own car had no time to brake. Penelope registered the panicked expression on the woman’s face as she wrenched at her steering-wheel. Without even slackening its pace, the hatchback swerved onto the other side of the road, heading straight towards Penelope’s car. She could feel her seat belt digging in across her body painfully as Mark slammed on the brakes.

Only inches separated Penelope and Mark from the doomed vehicle as it careered past them. The red hatchback was skidding now, any attempt at braking clearly ineffective. Its speed was unabated as it broke through the metal barrier fence marking the harbour side of the roadway. The car was airborne for what seemed like several seconds. Then it hit a large rock before ploughing into the murky grey water of the harbour.

The sound of the impact was shocking, coming in the split second after Mark had brought Penelope’s car to a complete halt and the engine had stalled. They were close to the child themselves now. The small girl stood in the middle of the road, bewildered by what was happening. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and gazed unblinkingly at Penelope. Shouting could be heard from the property the child had emerged from. Frantic shouting that indicated the child’s mother had seen the accident.

Penelope felt her chin being gripped firmly. She turned her head under the pressure from the fingers holding her to find Mark staring at her intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ Penelope’s voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat. ‘My God, Mark... The woman in that car...’

‘I know.’ Mark was unclipping his safety belt. ‘Get the child off the road, Penny, and tell her mother to call the emergency services. I’m going to see what I can do.’ He paused as he climbed out, reaching to push the hazard light switch. ‘Park a bit further down the road and leave the hazard lights on. Flag down anyone that comes past. We might need some more help.’

The reassurance from Mark’s instant concern for her own well-being above any others’ was enough to galvanise Penelope out of her stunned immobility. She scrambled from the car and scooped up the small girl who was still standing in the middle of the road. A woman was running towards them.

‘Tiffany!’ The mother’s shout ended in a distraught sob. Her arms were outstretched for her daughter as she reached Penelope. ‘Is she all right?’

‘She’s fine. The car didn’t touch her.’ Penelope handed the child to her mother. The little girl took one look at her mother’s face and burst into tears.

‘Can you go and ring the emergency services?’ Penelope was already turning away. ‘I need to shift my car.’

Another vehicle pulled to a halt as Penelope positioned her car. An elderly man rolled down his window. ‘What’s happened?’

‘An accident.’ Penelope could see Mark. He had scrambled over the rocks and was now almost waist deep in water. He seemed to be using all his strength to try and open one of the doors of the red car. The attempt was unsuccessful and he began wading rapidly to the other side of the small hatchback.

‘I’ve got a cellphone,’ the man told Penelope. ‘Shall I ring triple one?’

‘Yes.’ Penelope didn’t know whether the child’s mother would have reached her telephone yet and it wouldn’t matter anyway. Better for the emergency services control room to have too many calls than not enough. ‘Tell them that the occupant of the car appears to be trapped.’

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