Page 15 of Prognosis Incompatible

‘You knew!’ she accused. ‘You knew at the hospital you were coming here.’

‘Mary invited me this morning. It seems she’s rather keen for us to meet. Besides...I never refuse a home-cooked meal.’

Madeline was just about to scold him for his deliberate omission when Mary joined them. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, a little frown drawing her brows together as she noted the distance between them.

‘Great,’ Madeline assured, plastering a smile on her face.

‘Marcus...’ Mary wagged her finger at him. ‘You never said you and Madeline had already met.’

Madeline stared incredulously at sensible, level-headed Mary. She was practically flirting with the younger man, her cheeks a delicate pink.

‘You got me.’ He dazzled a brilliant smile at Mary.

Madeline suppressed the sudden urge to scream. ‘Where’s George?’ she asked instead.

‘Here I am,’ he said, joining them, giving his wife a hug from behind. ‘Let’s eat!’

Mary was an excellent cook and Madeline was sure it tasted divine, but she found herself having to force down each mouthful. She was acutely conscious of Marcus and his witty chat especially when she could barely string two words together.

‘So, Marcus,’ Mary said, ‘tell us a bit about yourself.’

Marcus told them a lot about his earlier life growing up in Melbourne and Madeline was interested despite telling herself she didn’t care.

‘I’m surprised a nice young man like you hasn’t been snapped up with a couple of kids by now,’ Mary pressed.

He laughed. ‘Can you call thirty-five young?’

George snorted. ‘You can when you’re sixty.’

Madeline was just thinking how smoothly Marcus had avoided that question when she saw his smiling face grow serious.

‘Actually, I was married once, a long time ago.’

Madeline stopped eating. His cryptic comments in the car the previous night now made some sense.

‘Too young?’ asked Mary.

‘Something like that.’ He gave a quick, dismissive shrug of his shoulders.

‘Do you still see her?’ Mary asked.

‘From time to time.’

They ate a little more without speaking and then Mary said, ‘Have you had much of a chance to do any sightseeing, Marcus?’

‘Not really,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been so busy since I arrived, setting up the practice, I haven’t really been anywhere. I’ve found South Bank, I swim there most afternoons. Oh, and the local skate park.’

Yes, indeed he had.

Madeline pushed her food around her plate as she remembered seeing him for the first time — had it only been yesterday? — shirtless, riding the concrete curves. His six-pack abs and his perfectly muscled quads returned in full Technicolor detail.

If only she’d known then, sitting in her car at those roadworks, that in less than twenty-four hours she’d actually be acquainted with skater boy, she might just have turned around and flown back to the UK.

Suddenly Madeline became aware that the other occupants of the table were staring at her expectantly and she shook her head to clear it. ‘I’m sorry...what did you say?’

‘I was just telling Marcus what a wonderful tour guide you are,” Mary repeated. ‘You won’t mind showing him some of the local sights on your day off tomorrow, will you?’

Madeline blinked. Of course she minded! Was Mary not listening when she’d told her about the eviction threats? She groped around desperately for a way to wriggle out of it.

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