He got her sorted with the ingredients she needed, then pulled a bottle of Champagne from the fridge, filling three flutes, one for each of them. He left Connie with hers, and excused himself to go and deliver the second to Robyn, although as he handed it to her, the drink was not her first priority.

"Well? Did you ask her?"

He considered telling her he had, and that Connie had replied in the negative. Anything to put the situation to bed and to avoid having to discuss it with Connie given how vulnerable and low she was feeling, especially since he didn't think for one minute she was self prescribing again.

But Robyn knew him too well, and he knew that she would see right through him, plus, he knew her heart was in the right place. "It's not the right time." He said, his voice lowered, not wanting Connie to overhear from the kitchen. "She's struggling." He added, seeing Robyn go to protest, "And whilst I've taken onboard what you said before about the impact of the pandemic on mental health, I really don't think she's gone back there."

"But how do you know?" Robyn asked, her frustration clear. He sighed, thinking his answer through carefully, "She blames herself. For Noel. She's taken it on her own shoulders. She doesn't blame the virus, she doesn't blame the pandemic, or the government for their lack of tangible support. She feels she as good as killed him."

"Well aside from the fact that that's bollocks," Robyn retorted, "all the more reason that she may be using again. If she's that depressed, wouldn't that be the first thing she would do?"

He shook his head, "No. I don't think it would." He thought back to the night in the makeshift storeroom, when she'd been so absolutely devastated at the thought of having to let Noel go. She'd been so broken then, and yet since... "She's battling it, Robyn. Every day. The virus, the system. No one is fighting against it as hard as Connie is, because she's trying to right her perceived wrongs. She's doing it for Noel, and she wouldn't want to let him down again by compromising patient care."

Her face was telling him she was still unconvinced, but she shrugged, and then held her hands up in apparent defeat. "OK. If you say so. But," she added, "this is me expressing my concern. I can't do anymore than that."

xxx

Back in the kitchen, he found Connie again working quietly and conscientiously. Strange as it sounded, as she cooked he could see the surgeon in her coming to the fore. She approached the task scientifically, her manner precise and meticulous. The gravy was definitely in very safe hands.

He sat at the breakfast bar, sipping his champagne, initially not minding the silence, feeling it was companionable at least. But, with time, he decided it was time to break it. He hadn't brought her here to be locked away in her own world. She had been doing that well enough at work.

"Not what you thought you'd be doing today, eh?"

She looked up, but just shook her head, not offering anything more. Clearly she was going to make him work for it.

"You were going to a hotel, you said. Which one?"

"The one in the bay." She looked awkward, and given their earlier conversation he could imagine the reasons why. The hotel in the bay was the last word in luxury. Considering how she felt about Noel, he imagined it was the last thing she would think she deserved.

"I didn't really want to go but Paul didn't fancy spending Christmas alone so he suggested we form a bubble for it."

From his conversations with the Anaesthetist Charlie suspected that it wasn't so much about Paul not wanting to be alone, but the concerns he and Jacob had, had about her doing so. That said he decided not to call her out on that, just glad that she was engaging with him, and wanting that to continue.

"He doesn't have family?"

"Two daughters." She responded, "Amy and Mia. Mia's at university in the States, and Amy's an Army medic. They couldn't get home. It's a shame. Paul misses them. They're amazing girls."

"You know the family well?" He asked, not to pry, but as much to keep the conversation going as anything. She nodded. "I'm godmother to the girls." She suddenly looked a little self conscious, "It's a bit weird really. He's my ex. We dated when I was a student, but he's always stayed as part of my life, and so I've always been part of theirs."

"I think it's nice." Charlie replied, "If only all break ups could be so amicable." He glanced at her, doing a bit of mental maths, picturing the very able and amiable Anaesthetist as he did so. "Was he a fellow student?"

Uncharacteristically, he noticed her blush, suddenly finding her gravy preparation even more interesting as her cheeks flushed scarlet as she responded.

"He was an SHO." She mumbled, "I was assigned to his ward as a 3rd year. He taught me how to cannulate." She reached for a pepper mill and ground it into her gravy, "Not a euphemism... but it just happened."

The joke, accompanied by near laughter in spite of her embarrassment, was heartening to Charlie, and so he took her lead, keeping his tone light. "An older man then. Not your usual style."

"No." The light faded from her eyes, and he instantly recognised his mistake. References to younger men could only evoke memories of Jacob, not to mention the ever trouble causing Sam. Not exactly positive topics for her. But then, as suddenly as it disappeared, the light came back, as she looked at him and smiled, "Sometimes I like to mix it up. Go for someone more experienced."

Again, the lightness was a relief, it made it seem like she was coming back from wherever she'd been hiding, and so, with his own smile, he found himself attempting to meet her halfway. "Sounds good. Where do I put my name down?"

xxx