‘Lui è già morto,’ Candy said, reminding her father that Gerry was already dead, and then she remembered Steele’s words.
‘These are your grandchildren we’re discussing.’ Her voice was incredibly clear and strong. ‘And these are my babies and I refuse to listen to you calling them a mistake or talking about shame. In a few months they’ll be here and you know as well as I do that you’re going to love them. So why do this to me now? I’m going to go and I don’t want to hear from you till you’ve calmed down.’ She went to the door. ‘And if you want to come to my flat, then you’re to telephone before you do. Clearly I have a life you don’t know about, and if you still don’t want to know about it, then you’re to telephone first before you come around!’
She left her parents and she could perhaps have headed for home but instead she did as Steele had once suggested she try.
She bought a single ticket for a movie—the one they hadn’t seen that night. It was a real tear-jerker from start to end and she sat there, tears pouring down her face and not trying to hide them.
It was nice, a tiny press of the pause button as she cried over the couple on the screen instead of dwelling on herself.
On Steele.
On what could surely never be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HER JEANS JUST did up.
Nervous and a little excited, just as she had been the first time he’d come to her door, she opened it the next morning with a smile.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, ‘or did you want a drink first?’
‘No, thanks,’ Steele said. ‘It’s probably better that we get going. I’ve got a lot to get on with today.’ He couldn’t not comment. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘I had a rather big argument with my parents last night.’
‘You told them?’
‘I did.’ She blew out a breath. ‘And I told them a few other things too. Anyway, we’re not talking about all that stuff today. I really do want a day off from it.’
‘Fair enough.’ He smiled. ‘But can I just say that I’m really proud of you for telling them.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’ll enjoy your holiday far more without that hanging over you.’
‘I shall.’
They went out to his car and were soon on the motorway. ‘First up,’ Steele explained, ‘I’m going to look at the new wing of the hospital, which might bore the hell out of you. You can go for a walk or to the shops if you like.’
‘No, I’d love to see it,’ Candy said, ‘unless explaining me makes things awkward for you.’
‘I never feel the need to explain myself,’ he said, and then he amended that slightly. ‘Actually, I did cancel dinner with my parents tonight, you would have taken some explaining.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ Candy said, ‘I didn’t want you to change your plans for me.’
‘I was more than happy to change them. I’m moving closer to them in a few weeks.’ He turned and smiled again. ‘Though not quite close as you are to yours, but they’ll be seeing more of me than they do now.’
‘What are they like now?’
‘They’ve mellowed,’ Steele said. ‘They’re much nicer as old people. Though I have to admit that when they start asking questions about my life, my love life, I’m often tempted to tell them to back off, given that they showed little interest in me when I was growing up.’ He gave a roll of his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t do that to them, though.’
Candy knew that he wouldn’t. He was too nice.
‘You like old people.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘I don’t like all old people. It’s not a free pass to being a good person but I like how they’ve let go of the stuff that’s not important. I like how they say what they think and share what they know. I like it even when my patients drive me mad with their stubbornness. I learn something every day, every single day, from how to put a brass doorknob on a house I’m renovating to how to face death.’
They arrived at the hospital and Steele shook hands and introduced her to Reece, a consultant who’d clearly had a lot of input into the new wing.