He nodded, found a smile for her. ‘You bought me seven T-shirts, each with a day of the week printed on it. You told me you hadn’t even looked at anything but the size on the packet.’ His smile widened. ‘You know something? Sometimes those shirts were the only way I knew what day of the week it was.’
A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘It was a fairly hideous time all right. It kind of set us up for what came later, left us unable to deal with it all.’
‘Hey.’ He picked up a serviette and gently dabbed the tear away. There was nothing Tori could do that would twist his heart more than if she cried. One tear was as good as crying. ‘Don’t. We’re past those months. Look at you with your own clinic and me working in London. That’s why we did all those hours of study and work, to get to where we are now.’ At what cost? At the beginning of their marriage they had been unbelievably happy. They’d shared everything from housework to study to intimate dinners, which had often been takeaways because that’s all the time or energy they’d had to eat. With hindsight he might get things right second time round. As if there’d be a second time.
‘Excuse me, monsieur, madame.’ The waitress placed two cups of coffee before them.
‘Merci,’ Tori told the girl.
Ben went with, ‘Thank you,’ and got a smile from Tori. He told her, ‘I’m glad you didn’t see fit to try and persuade me Dad’s way was right. I couldn’t have coped with that. I wanted to get it right without any extra pressure about how to go about it.’ His stomach slowly returned to normal. But his heart was still having difficulty keeping a regular rhythm. ‘I was at fault. That woman would still be alive if not for me wanting to make a name for myself.’ There, he’d finally told her. Even if she’d known then, she’d now heard it from him.
About to sip her coffee, Tori gasped and the cup banged back on its saucer. ‘None of us can undo anything, Ben. What happened is over and done, and you’ve moved on. We’ve moved on. Spending time thinking how differently we could’ve done things only makes for more distress, not less. I wasn’t perfect, either.’
He liked it that she included herself in this; hated it that she truly believed there was no hope for them in the future. Not together, anyway. Tori had moved on. He’d thought he had, too. Seemed he might’ve got that wrong.
Since when had he begun to think they could still have something going for them anyway?
Since the moment he’d spied her in the crowd, that glorious hair like a beacon beckoning him.
Or had it been when they’d eaten pastries on the street yesterday?
During their walks along the promenade?
Listening to her talk about her young patients at the conference? Yes, maybe, except that’s when he’d known her future remained firmly in New Zealand so there was no chance of a relationship together. Long distance didn’t cut it, would be far worse than living in the same apartment and hardly seeing each other. He couldn’t leave England. Starting his career a third time spoke of unreliability, something he wasn’t prepared to be known for. He had to show he could be the surgeon he’d dreamed of becoming. Show himself more than anyone else.
* * *
Back in the auditorium Tori barely took in a word Luc was saying to the audience as he introduced Ben and his colleagues for their session. Round and round in her skull went the words Ben had said over coffee.
He’d handled the situation all wrong. Yes, he had, but so had she. He’d never lied to her, just had never given her his version of what had happened, had never sat down with her to have an in-depth talk about how he’d felt and what he’d wanted to do. She still couldn’t fathom why he’d left her. That had cut deep.
For Ben to say goodbye after citing their lack of communication and the attention he needed to give his career to get past the stigma created by the death of his patient, which would mean even less time with her, had been hard to swallow. But when he’d added he didn’t love her the same any more she hadn’t had an answer to that. If love had died, it had died, and there had been no resurrecting it. Or so she’d told herself countless times over the intervening years.
But she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. Ben’s departure had been a terrible blow, and then she’d had an even bigger shock when she’d lost the baby she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying. By then it had been too late. What good would it have done to tell him she’d lost their baby? Of course, Ben would have come back to help her if she’d asked, but Tori had known she wouldn’t be able to cope with the pain of him leaving her a second time. The only reason she’d have accepted Ben back would’ve been if he loved her, but he’d told her he didn’t.
John nudged her. ‘It’s starting.’
When she looked at Ben’s friend she saw concern directed at her and felt guilty for being so rude. She’d barely spoken to him when he’d come and taken Ben’s chair at the front to keep her company. ‘Thank you.’
John nodded. ‘No worries,’ he said in true Aussie style.
That made her smile and then she looked up at the stage and gave Ben an even bigger one. Whatever their differences and unresolved issues, she was glad they were having this time together.
Sitting back, Tori listened with growing interest to the four men on stage talking about heart transplant procedures. They came with an established record of success, and with ever-increasing survival rates over the difficult first year after the transplant.
‘Which,’ Ben pointed out in answer to a question from the floor, ‘means increased survival rates in ongoing years.’
‘Is the rate any better in transplants using hearts that have to be restarted after death?’ Another question from the floor.
‘That technique is still in the early stages so we don’t yet have enough data to know the answer to that. But I don’t see why the outcome can’t be as good as with live hearts.’
Ben’s enthusiasm for his work was apparent in his voice, his facial expressions and the way he held his body. Tori watched in wonder, transfixed. This was Ben at his best. This was the man she’d known he’d become. Thank goodness the medical council had had the foresight to let him continue his career without intervention.
‘Ben’s really something, isn’t he?’ John leaned close as the audience clapped at the end of the session.
‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed around a blockage in her throat brought on by unshed tears.
‘London’s lucky to have him.’
Tori raised an eyebrow at the wistful note in John’s voice. ‘You tried to keep him in Sydney?’
‘Absolutely. But he was determined to go halfway round the world and prove he could mix it with the big boys. I don’t think that was the real reason at all, as he’s not a snob. But something was driving him to go away.’
‘I wonder if he wanted as much distance as possible between him and Auckland.’ Did John know what had happened there?
John shrugged. ‘Listening to him, I can’t say he was wrong to go. He’s found his niche.’
A chill lifted bumps on her skin. ‘You’re right. He’s never going to move back Down Under. Especially if he gets that partnership he told me he’s hanging out for.’ The sooner she accepted that, the sooner she could stop thinking about him other than as someone she used to know very well.
‘Tori, Ben could do transplants in New Zealand as easily as in London.’
‘What are you saying?’ Didn’t he want Ben back in Sydney?
‘He made his mind up to head to England the day your divorce was finalised. Before he got drunker than I’ve ever seen a man.’
‘I don’t think you should be telling me that.’ I don’t want to know that. It’s too late.
‘Ben’s my friend. I want what’s best for him.’ John looked sad as he stood up. ‘A wonderful career is all very well, but there are more important things to think about. I’ve seen him play with my kids,
seen his eyes fill with longing for his own family.’
Tori watched John weave his way through the crowd, leaving her to digest what he’d not said. Had Ben gone so far away to put maximum distance between them? That didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been knocking on his door, asking for a second chance—not since those first bewildering and horrible weeks after he’d walked out on her. Once she’d gone to see him, begging for him to come back or at least explain why he didn’t love her any more, but faced with his unwavering stance she’d quickly found her pride and stopped harassing him. Then she’d miscarried and that had been that. No going back.
Had John been suggesting Ben hadn’t really wanted to go? Or that he wanted to return? No, not likely. No one had forced him to go. He could’ve stayed on in Sydney, even returned to Auckland if he’d wanted to. As he could anytime he chose.
More confused than ever, Tori stood up, surprised how the uncertainty confusing her made her legs unsteady. Someone nudged her in passing and she hesitated. Next on the agenda was morning tea and then another session in here.
‘Hey, Tori.’ She heard Ben’s voice over the heads of people pressing to get out of the room. He was pushing against the tide to get to her.
‘Hey, Ben,’ she whispered.
Suddenly she couldn’t do it, had to get outside and away from everyone. Away from where Ben was. She needed to clear her mind of all this and find calm before being able to talk to him as though there was nothing wrong between them. She needed to find strength and resolve so every time she looked Ben in the eye she wouldn’t have this crazy urge to pitch herself into his arms and hold on for ever.