She gave him a curious glance. ‘Do you normally bring patients back to your house?’
He paused, knowing exactly how this would sound. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
Her breathing faltered and that made his own hitch. He wondered if she’d say something else but instead she sighed and leaned back against the sofa again. ‘We’ve missed filming. We won’t have time to get much more.’
‘Gerry didn’t seem too worried. To be honest, after his initial moment of panic, he almost seemed relieved. I think the guy might need a bit of a break.’
‘You’ve spoken to Gerry?’
‘He’s been round a few times.’ He didn’t add that Gerry might have filmed her while she’d slept. That was for Gerry to sort out. According to Gerry, a host’s consent was implicit, it was built into their contract—no matter what the situation.
She shuffled a little on the sofa and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘We got some footage before we got here. You know about Kai and Ross?’
He was surprised. He hadn’t realised they were being so thorough. ‘I knew that you followed up on Magda and the baby, but I didn’t know you’d followed up on all the other patients too.’
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. ‘Of course. The viewers love it. They want to know if everyone is okay. Haven’t you realised that human beings are essentially nosy creatures and want to know everything?’
He could answer that question in so many ways. He could laugh. He could crack a joke. But he didn’t.
He’d looked after Kristie for the last twenty-four hours. And at so many points in that time he’d wished he didn’t only get to spend three days at a time with her. He’d wished all their time wasn’t spent filming. He’d prefer it if it could just be them, without anyone else, no patients, no cameras.
So he didn’t make a joke because this was it. This was the time to ask the question he should have asked before.
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ he said gently.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Tell me why you don’t like hospitals.’ He could see it instantly. The shadow passing over her eyes.
She swallowed and stared into the fire for a few moments, then reached up and brushed her hand against her damp hair. She wasn’t looking at him. He could see he’d lost her to some past memory. Maybe it was the only way she could do this.
‘I don’t like hospitals because I had to go there...’ her voice trembled ‘...when my sister died.’
The words cut into him like a knife. Now he understood. Now he knew why he could always tell that something was amiss.
‘It’s everything,’ she continued. ‘The lights, the smell, the busyness, and even the quiet. The overall sound and bustle of the place.’ Now she turned to meet his gaze and he could see just how exposed she was. ‘And it doesn’t matter where in the world the hospital is because, essentially, they’re all the same. And they all evoke the same memories for me.’
He was nodding now as he reached out and took one of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers. ‘This job?’ she said, as she dipped her head. ‘It was the absolute last one that I wanted. I wanted the Egyptian museum. I wanted the astronaut’s life. Not because I thought they were more exciting, just because I knew they wouldn’t bring me to a hospital. And you—’ she looked straight at him ‘—were always going to do that to me.’
He kept nodding. He was beginning to understand her a little more. Just like he wanted to. But she hadn’t answered the most important question. ‘What happened to your sister, Kristie?’
She blinked, her eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t talk about it,’ she whispered. ‘Hardly anyone knows.’
‘You don’t have to tell me. I want you to trust me, Kristie. I want you to know that I’m your friend.’ Friend? Was that what you called someone he’d kissed the way he’d kissed her?
He was treading carefully. He had to. He could tell how delicate this all was for her. Holding hands was as much as she could handle right now and he knew that.