Page 19 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

Chapter

Seven

What do you remember about last night?

Eli

I fidget about on the dock, stepping from one foot to another and feeling the nervous energy thrumming through me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Oliver says peevishly, leaning against a post as if he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“The same thing that I’d think would be wrong with you,” I snap. “The fact that we missed the boat and neither of us have checked in with our patients. Fuck knows what’s happened.”

“Oh relax, for Christ’s sake. Nothing will have happened more disastrous than Mrs Pritchard finally disappearing up her own arse, and Gideon dying from eternal grumpiness.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Fucking hell, I fancied the pants off the man for years. I can’t tell you how disappointed I’ve been to find out that he’s a bigger mood hoover than a Dyson.”

I shake my head. “I value my job,” I say and stare as he laughs.

“You mean you value your patient.” He grins at me nastily.

“I’m not saying I blame you. If he’d landed as my patient, the ker-ching signs would have gone off straightaway.

I’d have bent over quicker than someone having a prostate check.

” He looks at me eagerly. “You know you can tell me. Is he gay? Bisexual? There have been rumours flitting around for years that he swings both ways.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say sturdily and unrepentantly dishonestly, because I’ve seen the glances Gideon’s sneaked at me. I heard what his manager said. Jesus, I haven’t been able to get that out of my head.

I think back to this morning and seeing Jacinta on his lap.

It had made my stomach feel funny, and I’d been desperate enough to get out of the suite and not be around them that I’d accepted this date and the ensuing debacle.

It was only at the last moment that I’d looked beyond their stunning beauty and seen the way they sat together so comfortably.

It had been like they were brother and sister.

Oliver’s whistle stirs me from my thoughts. “Are you sure you’re not going to hit that?”

I stare at him. “He’s my patient. Do you remember nursing college and that teeny insignificant thing called the Code?”

“Pah, that’s more of a guideline.”

“It’s a pretty serious guideline if you can lose your job over it.”

“Listen, Eli, I’ve known many private nurses, and well over half of them have fucked a patient at some point.” I shake my head and he glares at me. “I have to say that you’re another letdown. You’ve been shitty company all day.”

“I can’t imagine why. First I had to refuse your kind offer of a hotel room that rents by the hour, then accept with a smile the fact that you dropped my phone in the sea, and finally manage not to throttle you when we missed the tender because you were flirting with that waiter.

It’s been the absolute best date I’ve ever been on. ”

“I can’t wait to get on that boat,” he says fretfully.

“You and me both,” I mutter, but for completely different reasons. I heft my rucksack as the bright orange tender boat comes towards us laden with happy tourists who are ready for an evening on the town.

Twenty minutes later I leave Oliver without a backward glance and race back to the suite.

“Gideon,” I call out hesitantly but I’m greeted with silence, the suite lit only by the murky shadows of moonlight.

The doors are open, letting in the distant sound of music on the air and the lapping of the waves, but apart from that the suite echoes with silence.

Nevertheless, I check all the rooms before coming up short in the lounge again.

“Where are you?” I mutter, feeling urgency tremble in me.

I’m probably going to get fired as soon as I see him, but at least I’ll know he’s okay.

I clench my fists. What if he had a coughing fit and fell and hit his head?

I shake out my hands. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m always concerned about my patients, but that’s my nursing head, and I am always calm.

This feels far more personal and my hands tremble slightly.

Something about this grumpy man just means more.

“Eli,” comes a voice from the door and for a split second I feel relief, but it isn’t him and I sag slightly.

“Hi, Peter,” I say, scrubbing my hand over my neck and feeling the gritty salt in my hair. “Sorry about going AWOL.”

“What happened?”

“Missed the tender.”

“I tried to ring you. Mr Ramsay was very worried.”

“Was he?” My question sounds plaintive, and he smiles kindly.

“Of course he was. Mr Ramsay thinks very highly of you.”

“I doubt that’s a true statement right at this precise moment,” I say wryly. “I’m probably going to get the sack. I couldn’t ring because my phone’s buggered. It fell in the sea.”

“Would you like me to ring around and get you a replacement?”

“You can do that?”

He smiles slightly. “Mr Jones, I’m the butler for the first-class suites. I can do anything.”

A small smile tugs free. “You sound drunk on power.”

“Better than the cooking brandy,” he says smartly. He pauses. “Are you looking for Mr Ramsay?”

“Is he okay?”

“Of course,” he says quickly, and my shoulders sag. “He went to find Mrs Pritchard, one of the other passengers. He thought she might have had word of you.”

“Shit,” I say despairingly. “What a bloody awful day.”

“Well, I’ll inform the captain that you’re on board safely.”

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. I pause. “I don’t suppose you have any idea of where they are?”

He smiles. “It came to my notice while I was having an evening walk that Mrs Pritchard likes the top deck.” He winks. “Not so many people about.”

I stare at him. What is he winking about? I sigh heavily. Whatever it is probably doesn’t mean good things. It also more than likely means that Gideon is in the thick of it.

I leave the suite, exchanging smiles and greetings and fighting the tide of people heading to the restaurants to eat.

My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten anything since first thing this morning.

The whole day has been spent quelling the urge to strangle Oliver, and it didn’t improve my appetite.

Now that I’m on the ship and I know that Gideon hasn’t been taken to the med centre, I’m starving.

I amend my thoughts. Not been taken to the med centre yet.

I jog along the running track that curves around the ship, offering a beautiful view of Nice glittering like a carpet of jewels in the night, and then mount the steps to the upper deck quickly, feeling my breath sawing in my throat.

Shit, he’s going to send me away. I stop dead and shake my head.

I mean shit, I’m going to get the sack. It’s because …

I pause on the stairs as I hear the laughter coming from above me.

I frown. Gideon’s not prone to fits of laughter but he’s had one a couple of times, usually in response to sarcasm.

It’s a shame because it’s a lovely laugh, low and almost dirty-sounding but very contagious.

I narrow my eyes. Has he picked up anyone downstairs?

I think of the redheaded nurse who’s adopted a sultry sway every time she’s walked past us.

Or the dark-haired ship steward who practically trips over his tongue every time he speaks to Gideon, to the extent that Gideon had asked me if he had a problem with his speech.

Another voice speaks, and I relax because it’s Constance.

I round the steps and stop in amazement before coughing as the heavy dope cloud engulfs me.

“What the fuck?” I say louder than I intended, and they both swing slowly round to face me.

For a second there’s total silence and then they both break into peals of laughter, holding on to each other.

“Oh lovely,” I sigh. I glare at the pair of them.

“Who brought the dope on the ship?” I finally say resignedly, prompting another flood of laughter.

When they pause with tears in their eyes, I hold out my hand for the blunt and Gideon meekly puts it in my hand.

“Thank you,” I say sternly and promptly throw it over the side of the ship.

Constance makes a sound of protest and I turn back, bracing my hands behind me on the railing.

“This is terrible behaviour,” I say and they hang their heads like recalcitrant children.

My lip twitches but thankfully they can’t see it.

“You’re here on this ship to get better.

For shame.” I shake my head at Gideon. “Smoking dope is most definitely not on your health care and recovery plan.”

“Well, I think it should be,” he says sulkily, making an effort to rally his authority but listing sideways into his partner in crime who is staring dreamily at the moon. “I’m sure I’d have got better a lot sooner.”

“Well, it isn’t and it also doesn’t specify missing meals.

Have either of you eaten this evening?” They shake their head in an exaggerated fashion and I make a shooing gesture with my hands.

“Come on. We’ll walk you back to your cabin, Constance, and then Gideon and I are going to order something for you to eat. ”

“I am hungry,” he says eagerly.

“I’m sure you are,” I say. “That’s called the munchies.”

I shake my head as that sends them into another fit of laughter.

Getting them back to the suite is a feat of ingenuity and that’s not even counting the stoned old lady on crutches.

I imagine it’s a bit like being a sheepdog herding its charges.

One of them veers off in one direction while the other tries to go the other way.

They have the attention span of either toddlers or amoebas, branching off to ooh and aah over the glittering contents of the jeweller’s window where Constance announces in her very loud voice that her third husband bought her a labia ring when she’d been good.