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All She Wants For Christmas
Annie Claydon
The tree was almost finished.
‘What do you say you and Beth put the fairy at the top together?’ Matt lifted the fairy from her resting place on the coffee table and brought her over to Jack.
Carefully she guided Jack’s hand and fixed the fairy to the top of the tree. ‘There! Now, we’ll all close our eyes and make a wish.’
Jack squeezed his eyes shut, wishing hard. Beth’s eyes met Matt’s and caught in his liquid gaze. ‘Close your eyes.’ She whispered the words so quietly that she almost mouthed them at him. He had to have a wish. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if he didn’t.
He closed his eyes just in time. He didn’t see her wipe the tear away as it dribbled from the side of her eye. And before he had a chance to open them again she had hastened back down the ladder and turned away, so that she could no longer see what her heart desired the most and what she knew she could never have.
Dear Reader
This is a very special first for me. As I write this letter, I haven’t seen this book in print yet. By the time you read it, I will have experienced the long awaited thrill of actually holding my first book. There will, however, still be one more thing for me to look forward to with grateful appreciation—the gift that you make of your time, in sharing Matt and Beth’s story with me.
The book started life as an entry to the Mills and Boon Medical
FastTrack initiative. When I first read about this ground-breaking new way of encouraging writers to submit their work, it seemed too good to be true. The offer of hearing back on a submission in days. And best of all, the possibility of receiving comments from an editor.
The shock and surprise when I received an email giving guidelines for improvements and inviting me to submit a full manuscript was profound. Then, after a learning curve that seemed almost vertical at times, self doubt and agonising hope, the unthinkable happened. The Call. The news that a book has been accepted for publication.
I knew what Beth was going to be like right from the outset—capable, good at her job and a gifted communicator. She’s also determined not to be defined by the fact that she’s deaf. One of the things I like the most about Matt is that he sees her communication skills as special, not just equal to his own, but different and better.
I hope you enjoy Matt and Beth’s story. I’m always delighted to hear from readers and you can email me via my website, which is at www.annieclaydon.com
About the Author
Cursed from an early age with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. After completing her degree in English Literature, she indulged her love of romantic fiction and spent a long, hot summer writing a book of her own. It was duly rejected and life took over, a series of U-turns leading in the unlikely direction of a career in computing and information technology. The lure of the printed page proved too much to bear, though and she now has the perfect outlet for the stories which have always run through her head, writing Medical
Romance for Mills and Boon. Living in London, a city where getting lost can be a joy, she has no regrets in having taken her time in working her way back to the place that she started from.
All She Wants For Christmas
Annie Claydon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The list of people who deserve heartfelt thanks is a long one—but my mum is not so well at the moment so I’m sure no-one will mind if she is first in the queue.
For my mother who taught me how to read and write and always encouraged me to do both
CHAPTER ONE
MATT SUTHERLAND was lost. The feeling had become increasingly familiar to him over the last few years and he did what he always did. Set his emotions aside, decided on a course of action and pressed forward. In this particular instance, the strategy didn’t seem to be working and he was in danger of being late for his breakfast meeting.
The wide, cream-painted corridors of the hospital still looked as uniform as they had two weeks ago. He increased his pace to catch up with two women up ahead, walking companionably together, both loaded down with bags, coats and NHS standard issue manila folders. They had to be on the staff. Matt caught up with them, brushing the sleeve of the closest with his fingers, and she turned.
‘Excuse me.’ He spoke before he had taken a moment to look at her. ‘I’m looking for Cardiology.’ He stopped, suddenly aware of a pair of wide grey eyes looking up at him. Candid eyes, which looked directly and unashamedly at his face, making his lips tingle slightly as if he had only just remembered that they existed.
‘You’re on the wrong wing—this is yellow.’ The other woman spoke up, pulling Matt’s attention away. ‘You need blue—the two wings have the same layout and Cardiology’s in this location, only on blue wing. Go right to the end of this corridor, through the swing doors, turn left, then keep going until you get to Reception and follow the signs.’
‘Thanks.’ He turned back to the grey eyes of her companion. A distant, almost unrecognisable former self would have stopped and chatted, undaunted by any imagined consequence of charming her name out of her. Even now, a perverse, insistent voice at the back of his head made him try to goad her into speaking. ‘So it’s two parallel universes, then. Blue and yellow.’
She nodded. Her face was framed with dark curls and her half-smile struck him as intriguing rather than disinterested. A long-forgotten thrill ignited in his gut, and Matt reminded himself sternly that there was somewhere else he needed to be.
‘Okay, thanks.’ He’d got a reaction of sorts and found himself grinning in response. He cut his losses and hurried away, the cold gloom of a chilly December morning forgotten for the moment.
Turning, as if he wanted to check the direction, he saw the women behind him. They had stopped outside one of the entranceways in the corridor, their bags at their feet, and were facing each other, their hands forming words and phrases as they silently laughed together.
Nice one, Matt. Her gaze, so intent on his lips, had simply been so that she could see what he was saying. Regret tugged at a part of his consciousness that he thought he had left behind for ever and he turned on his heel, making for the reception area that he had walked through five minutes ago.
As soon as the stranger’s back was turned, Marcie Taylor turned to her companion, a broad grin on her face. The sign she made with her hand was not for Beth’s benefit, but so the man walking away from them could not hear her comment. Nice!
Beth turned to watch him hurry away, his dark coat open and swirling around his legs, a gash of red at his neck from a bright woollen scarf. She twisted back to face Marcie before he had a chance to turn and catch her staring.
‘Do you know who he is?’ Marcie was still signing.
Beth shook her head. ‘ID tags and a suit. He must be pretty senior. The new head of cardiology maybe?’
‘Must be. They say we were lucky to get him. Some hotshot surgeon from one of the London Centres of Excellence.’ Marcie slipped back into speech now that the man was through the swing doors and safely out of earshot. ‘Quite a catch all round in my opinion.’
Beth felt her colour rise and gestured a ‘so-so’ with her hand, her fingers trembling slightly at the audacity of the understatement. ‘Nice eyes.’
‘And the rest,’ Marcie retorted. ‘If it’d been me on the end of that smile he gave you, I’d be on the phone right now, telling James that it was all over.’
‘You’d do no such thing!’
‘Okay, so I’m all talk. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, though.’ Marcie’s grin turned calculating. ‘If he’s new in town he probably won’t know anyone. Do you think I should ask him to our Christmas party? If you’re passing Cardiology, you could pop in and deliver the invitation. Just a nice, friendly welcome, eh?’
‘Why would I do that? It’s your party.’ Beth assumed a look of injured innocence that wouldn’t have fooled a child. Anyone with a pulse would have noticed that smile.
Marcie signed her frustration. ‘Because that’s what you’re supposed to do with parties. You get to know people. Remember dating?’
Beth made a face, turning the corners of her mouth down. ‘I remember your party last year. If that’s what dating entails, I think I’ll pass.’
‘Ah, Pete. The man who put the x into excruciating. Anyone who thinks that my Christmas party is the right place for business networking and not slow-dancing with his fiancée …’ Marcie stopped and bit her lip. ‘I should have taken him out and shot him.’
A mental picture of Marcie, in a fabulous dress and killer heels, marching Pete out into the night with a shotgun came to Beth’s rescue and she grinned. ‘Would have saved him the trouble of working up that list of reasons for dumping me, anyway.’
‘There was only one reason, and that one stank. Along with his timing.’
‘At least he gave me ten days to work out what my New Year’s resolutions were going to be. And in case you’re wondering, they’re going to be the same for next year. Stand on my own two feet and forget about dating for good.’ A stranger’s smile was no reason to abandon the two mantras that had stood her in such good stead for the last year.
‘Just because Pete turned out to be a complete toad, doesn’t mean that there aren’t any nice guys out there.’ Marcie’s eyes softened. ‘James, for instance.’
‘James is married. In case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Well, he wasn’t when I met him.’
Beth chuckled. ‘And you rectified that omission as soon as humanly possible.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction that the tall, blond-haired stranger had taken. ‘I’ll bet you anything you like he’s married, too.’
Marcie’s gaze followed the direction of Beth’s gesture. ‘What makes you think that? Apart from the fact that you’re hoping he might be because then you don’t have to think about the possibility that he might be available.’
‘He’s got kids. No one without kids wears a scarf with a school name tag on it.’
Marcie threw back her head and laughed. ‘Okay, Sherlock, you win.’ She rummaged in her bag for a bunch of keys and unlocked the door to the audiology and hearing therapy unit. ‘I’ll ask him anyway. If he doesn’t bring a wife along, you owe me coffee for a month.’
If Beth had decided not to go anywhere near Cardiology, fate, in the shape of a six-year-old boy with blond hair and blue eyes, seemed to have other ideas. She had found him wandering alone in the corridor outside the hearing therapy unit, dirt on his hands and the knees of his jeans and close to tears. After a halting start, a little gentle persuasion got the whole story out of him.
‘So your dad works here?’ Beth had bathed his hands and was dabbing them dry. ‘What’s his name, Jack?’
Jack’s tears were forgotten now and he looked up at her proudly. ‘He’s a doctor and he works in the cardiology department—that means hearts.’ Beth nodded, looking impressed. ‘His name is Matt Sutherland.’
Beth’s eyes skittered to the dark blue cashmere scarf that Jack had been wearing, which had struck her as slightly unsuitable for a child. ‘All right, then, Jack, I’m just going to make a phone call and find out where your dad is right now and then we can go and find him together.’
The thought that he was married with a child gave Beth the perfect reason to ignore the thrill that accompanied any thought of the disturbingly attractive Dr Sutherland. A call to his secretary elicited his whereabouts and Beth got Jack back into his coat, gripping the boy’s hand tightly all the way down to Outpatients. The receptionist nodded her through, indicating that Dr Sutherland was currently alone and pointing to the small consulting room that was his for the afternoon.
Beth stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. This was stupid. Just knock.
‘Should I do our special secret-code knock?’ Jack was looking up at her seriously.
‘Do what, Jack?’
‘Our secret code. So Dad knows it’s me. He knocks back with his secret code and I know it’s him.’
The temptation was almost irresistible, but the new head of cardiology was unlikely to live that one down in a hurry. Beth pulled her face straight. ‘No, probably not. You don’t want everyone to know it, do you?’
Before Jack could answer she raised her hand to tap on the door. As she did so, it flew open and her knuckles almost hit solid flesh instead of wood. Snatching her hand away, Beth caught his cool, clean scent as Matt Sutherland started backwards.
Only Jack seemed undeterred by the abrupt introduction. ‘Hi, Dad.’
This close, he seemed taller. And without his jacket, the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled up, he looked broader as well. ‘Dr Sutherland?’ Jack’s reaction had pretty much established that, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say that was even vaguely appropriate.
‘Yes … Yeah, I’m Matt, Jack’s father. What’s he doing here?’ He was standing stock still, blocking the doorway, one hand on Jack’s shoulder.
‘Beth Travers. Can we come in?’
‘Sorry … Yes, of course.’ His eyes flipped rapidly over the empty waiting room behind them and he stepped back, motioning Beth over to a chair. Jack slid past him and ran to the revolving chair that sat behind the desk.
‘Is this your chair, Dad?’
‘Yes. Want to try it out?’ He was watching Beth as Jack climbed into the chair, his expression dispassionate.
‘I found Jack wandering on his own, outside Hearing Therapy. He told me that his day-care lady was knocked over by a car and that he’d been brought here with her in the ambulance.’
‘What?’ Matt spun round towards his son. ‘Are you all right, Jack?’
Jack was ignoring him in favour of the contents of his desk.
‘He wasn’t hit by the car, but he fell over when his carer pushed him out of the way and there’s a graze on his hand.’ Beth kept her voice even, reassuring. ‘He hasn’t complained of any pain and doesn’t seem dizzy or disorientated.’
The shock in his eyes had subsided and Matt was nodding to her as if he were taking a patient’s history from a colleague. ‘Thank you. Will you stay a moment, while I take a look at him?’ He didn’t wait for an answer and Beth supposed it was an instruction rather than an invitation.
He dropped on one knee in front of the boy, swivelling the chair around to face him. Without being asked, Jack pulled Beth’s penlight out of his pocket and proffered it to his father. ‘Are you going to shine a light at me?’
Matt took the penlight and flipped it on. ‘You want me to shine it anywhere in particular?’
Jack leaned forward, jabbing his finger towards his father’s eye. ‘When you shine a light into someone’s eye, the middle bit gets smaller. Con-con ….’
‘Constricts.’ Beth supplied the word quickly and Matt turned towards her, the tenderness that was spilling from his face catching her unawares, making her wish she’d kept quiet.
Matt shot her a grin and returned to his son. ‘Do you know what makes them get bigger again? That’s called dilating.’
‘When you’re in the dark. Beth showed me. Her eyes do it, too.’
Matt laughed quietly. ‘I imagine they do.’ He shaded Jack’s face from the overhead lights with his hand, checking his pupils quickly with the penlight. ‘That looks good. Shall I ask you some questions as well?’
Jack thought for a moment. ‘I didn’t hit my head when I fell over. And nothing hurts. I told Beth that already.’
‘Well, that’s good to know. Anything else?’ As he was speaking he was easing the boy out of his coat, checking him for any signs of injury as he went, his manner so casual that Jack hardly seemed to notice.
‘I have a minor abrasion on my hand.’ He held out his grazed palm for his father to see.
‘Do you now? Well, I’m glad you remembered that.’ He shone the light from the pen torch onto Jack’s hand and studied it closely. ‘Well, I think you’ll live, mate. We’ll put some antiseptic cream on it, just to make sure it heals nicely.’ He flipped the penlight quickly towards his son and Jack caught it adroitly. There was nothing wrong with the boy’s reactions.
Matt seemed satisfied, but Jack grabbed at his arm. ‘You haven’t done the thing with your fingers yet, Dad.’ Matt shot her a questioning look and Beth avoided his gaze.
‘Look, like this.’ Jack tipped his father’s face back towards him, laying one hand under his chin and carefully moving the other back and forth. He nodded slightly, in an almost flawless impression of what Beth had done, then suddenly made a face, hooting with laughter.
Embarrassment crawled across the back of her neck. Okay, so crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue had made Jack laugh, but she wasn’t so sure that his father would consider it particularly professional.
A deep chuckle shook his frame. ‘All right. That does it.’ He had his back turned to Beth, but from Jack’s reaction it was apparent that Matt had risen to the challenge and was indulging in a face-pulling contest. Jack grimaced horribly and Matt rose. ‘You win. No one with a face like that can have a great deal wrong with them.’ He turned to Beth. ‘Thank you. Do you know what’s happening with his carer, Mrs Green?’
He spoke quietly, without exaggerating the movements of his mouth, and faced her. When most people heard her speak and divined from her accent that she was deaf, they looked away and shouted, neither of which helped in the slightest.
‘I can hear you.’ She’d rather say it upfront than leave people to wonder. He nodded but still his eyes never left her face. ‘I called Phyllis to find out where you were and she’s trying to locate Mrs Green. She’ll call as soon as she knows.’
‘Thanks. I really appreciate your kindness.’ He perched himself on the edge of his desk, leaving Jack to play with the penlight. ‘So you found him outside the hearing therapy unit? Is that where everyone who gets lost looking for Cardiology eventually ends up?’
So he did remember her. Beth couldn’t suppress the smile that sprang to her lips. ‘Pretty much. Parallel universes will do that kind of thing.’
His face broke into a wide grin. ‘That they will.’ The gleam in his eyes extinguished suddenly. ‘And he was all on his own?’
‘He must have given the staff the slip when the ambulance crew handed over to Casualty. He was looking for you.’
Matt let out a growl of exasperation. ‘Jack, how many times have I told you—?’
Beth’s phone came to Jack’s rescue, vibrating suddenly in her pocket. ‘This must be Phyllis.’ She glanced at the caller display. ‘Here. You’d better speak to her.’ Phyllis had a knack of being able to speak in whole paragraphs before she needed to draw breath and Matt was more likely to be able to keep up with her on the phone.
