Marty had said goodbye, without telling her that he’d be busy at lunch. Monday lunchtime meant Elissa; he could unburden himself and seek her advice. Marty hadn’t mentioned the ecstasy to Lexie on Saturday night, she had enough of her own worries. A drug-taking teenage stepdaughter would send her into a spin. Like him, Lexie was anti-drugs, apart from the prescription ones and those that came in bottles from the liquor store.

Throughout the morning, Marty checked his watch, a countdown to midday, determined not to be stuck in the middle of a consult. And then, finally, it was time. He was striding down the corridor to the cafeteria and Elissa was there, smiling, waiting for him.

‘So, what’s the special today?’ Marty grinned as he sat down, touching her arm lightly.

‘Oooh, the special today is … drumroll, please … crusty meatloaf and overcooked vegetables!’

Elissa threw her head back and laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. He stared at the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts underneath her blouse. Christ, she was attractive. Last week over lunch, they’d been interrupted twice by male specialists. One of them had asked Elissa out for a drink. But it wasn’t just that. Whenever she was on the ward, she made it a happier place for the patients—even the sickest kids responded to her. The nursing staff said Elissa was the best volunteer they’d ever had. ‘You’re never allowed to leave us,’ they told her at the end of each Monday.

‘One day, I’ll take you to lunch outside the hospital,’ he dared to say. ‘After all your hard work, you deserve something more than meatloaf.’

‘But not today, sadly.’ She shook her dark locks. ‘Guess what? I’m refusing today’s special! I’m having chicken pasta instead.’

He couldn’t work out if Elissa found him attractive. Did he still have it, even though he was at least fifteen years older than her? Ironically, he was fitter than he’d ever been. Twice, recently, he’d caught himself fantasising about her. A horny teenager desperate for her touch.

Gratitude, that was what it was. She had helped him settle into the hospital, into Canberra. Helped him manage his uncertainty. The first month at the hospital, he’d floundered. And then Elissa had shimmered into the ward, a beam of sunshine.

Over chicken pasta, he told her about the weekend with Victoria and Angela’s phone call that morning.

‘Your ex-wife shouldn’t be cross at you,’ Elissa reassured him. ‘You can’t keep teenagers locked up in a room. They have to take responsibility for their own actions.’

And this was why Mondays were the highlight of his week. He could say anything to Elissa and she understood.

‘I was a terrible teenager.’ She winked at him across the table. ‘My, oh my, the things I got up to, you wouldn’t believe!’

‘I wish I’d known you then.’