“No, but it was only a matter of time. Always is.”
Whatever reply Marc might have made was cut off by a mountain of food being delivered to their table. Self-pity party forgotten, Jamie gazed at the heaping plates of sausages, eggs, bacon, beans, black pudding, mushrooms, tomatoes, and toast.Jesus Christ.His mouth watered, but he knew his stomach would give up on him long before his greedy brain.Story of my life.
Marc pushed a napkin-wrapped bundle of cutlery across the table. “Come on. Dig in. You can brood about it after when you’ve got a full belly.”
“What are you? A fucking feeder or something?”
“Not in the least, but you look like you could use a big plate of saturated fat, so humour me.”
“Is that doctor’s orders?”
Marc shrugged. “If you like. Did you know that people live longer in the French countryside than where you’ve just come from? Red wine and cheese versus scooped-out bagels and kale smoothies. Eat the bacon, mate.”
Jamie didn’t need telling a third time, though he did wonder how Marc knew so much about what people ate.
“I wrote an essay on French diet and health once,” Marc supplied, like he’d read Jamie’s mind. “I don’t know what the fuck they eat over there these days, but the theory got me through my A levels.”
Jamie shoved a mouthful of fried mushrooms into his mouth and spread butter on his toast. “Did you go to uni after?”
“After school?”
“That’s when people usually go, isn’t it?”
“If you say so. I joined the Army and went through medical school that way. What about you? Did you go to uni?”
“Nope.” Jamie speared a fat Cumberland sausage. “I left school when I was fifteen.”
“I didn’t think you could do that anymore. Don’t they send truancy officers after you?”
“Probably, but they never found me. Which is a shame, ’cause I might have had more going for me now.”
Marc said nothing for a moment, apparently engrossed in clearing his plate as fast as humanly possible, but when he’d inhaled his last forkful, it was with a stare Jamie hadn’t seen since he’d last had a real conversation with Zac. “What makes you think that you have nothing going for you? You’re young and articulate, and you’ve just spent a year on the other side of the world. There won’t be many lads around here with life experience like that.”
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“What? That not many Matlock Bath boys have made it to California?”
The black pudding in Jamie’s mouth turned to dust. He forced it down and reached for his lukewarm tea. “Never mind. Did you always want to be a doctor? What sort of doctor are you at the hospital? It must be so different to being in the Army.”
Marc absorbed the flurry of questions with a wry half smile, like he knew that Jamie had choked on the question that hereallywanted to ask:what’s up with your legs?“I always wanted to be a doctor because my dad told me I couldn’t. And then I took the Army route because I’m crap at sitting still, which is ironic because where it took me damn near left me on my arse forever.”
“I can’t imagine you with a gun in your hand. It would change everything about you.”
“Would it?”
“Yeah. You can’t help but heal people, right? Killing them would hurt your soul.”
Marc chuckled darkly. “Perhaps that explains why I’m living out my days as a crippled bachelor.”
“You’re not crippled. I’ve seen you walk.”
“You call that walking? Jesus. No wonder you can’t picture me with a Minimi.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” It was Marc’s turn to shake his head and change the subject. “I’m a trauma specialist, in answer to your other question. I locum at the Chesterfield Royal at the moment, in A & E and for the air ambulance service, but they’ve offered me a permanent post.”
“A post you don’t want?” Jamie gave up on his still-half-full plate and pushed it Marc’s way.