
Welcome to Penhally Bay!
Mills & Boon® welcomes you to the picturesque town of Penhally, nestled on the rugged Cornish coast! With sandy beaches and breathtaking landscapes Penhally is a warm, bustling community, cared for by the Penhally Bay Surgery team, led by the distinguished and commanding Dr Nick Tremayne.
There are sixteen stories in all to enjoy, available in four bundles of four, set in this idyllic coastal town, where fishing boats bob up and down in the bay, friendly faces line the cobbled streets and romance flutters on the Cornish sea breeze! We've got gorgeous Mediterranean heroes, top-notch city surgeons, a royal scandal, little miracle babies and Penhally's very own bad-boy rebel! But that's not all...
With Brides of Penhally Bay you get double the reading pleasure...as each book also follows the life of damaged hero Dr Nick Tremayne. His story will pierce your heart---a tale of lost love and the torment of forbidden romance. Dr Nick's unquestionable, unrelenting skill would leave any patient happy in the knowledge that she's in safe hands, and is a testament to the ability and dedication of all the staff at Penhally Bay Surgery. Come in and meet them for yourself...
THE REBEL OF PENHALLY BAY
BY
CAROLINE ANDERSON
SPANISH DOCTOR, PREGNANT
BY
ANNE FRASER
FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE
BY
KATE HARDY
A MOTHER FOR THE ITALIAN'S TWINS
BY
MARGARET MCDONAGH
Caroline Anderson has the mind of a butterfly. She's been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she's settled on writing. She says, 'I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!' Caroline also writes for the Mills & Boon® Romance series.
Recent titles by the same author:
Medical™ Romance
THE VALTIERI MARRIAGE DEAL
A MUMMY FOR CHRISTMAS
THEIR MIRACLE BABY\*
CHRISTMAS EVE BABY\*
Mills & Boon® Romance
TWO LITTLE MIRACLES
THE SINGLE MUM AND THE TYCOON
HIS PREGNANT HOUSEKEEPER
\*Brides of Penhally Bay
HE WASN'T concentrating.
If he'd been concentrating, he might have seen it, but he wasn't. He was miles away, in Cornwall, thanks to his mother and the letter he'd just been handed on his way out of the hospital.
It was all the usual blah.
Hope you're well, Jamie's done well in his exams, goodness knows how, he's so idle, who does that remind you of? Oh, well, if he turns out as well as you he'll be all right but why you want to bury yourself in Africa, goodness knows. I wish you were here, you could keep him in order...
Fat chance of that. They were like peas in a pod, and the only thing that would keep Jamie in order was Jamie, as Sam very well knew.
But then the letter changed.
I've seen Gemma again, by the way, and she asked after you. I can't believe it's ten years since you had that fling with her. You've hardly been back since, but maybe you'll come now, with her here. Bit of an incentive for you---more interesting than your boring old mother. She's a brilliant practice nurse, and still single, though I can't imagine why when she's so gorgeous, but there doesn't seem to be anyone else around for her and she seemed very keen to hear all about you. You missed a chance there, Sam. Maybe you should come home and take up where you left off...
He hadn't read the rest. He'd screwed it up, hurled it into the bin and stalked out into the sun. Damn. He'd meant to leave before dawn, but what with one thing and another, and now the bloody letter...
The bike was loaded, stocked up for the run to the makeshift little clinic thirty miles away, and he had enough to do without distractions. He really---really!---didn't need to be thinking about Gemma, or that summer all those years ago. Ten, for God's sake. A whole decade. Ten long, lonely years. And he hadn't missed his chance, he'd had it snatched away from him---
'Oh, dammit to hell.'
He kicked the starter viciously, dropped the bike forwards off the stand and straddled it while he fastened his helmet. Why the hell was she back in Penhally? And why, more to the point, was she working as a practice nurse? So much for her dedication to medicine---but that was just par for the course, really, wasn't it? After all, she hadn't stuck to him, either.
He twisted the throttle, listened to the feeble sound of the little engine and mourned his old bike. Gemma had loved his bike, and they'd gone everywhere on it. They'd been inseparable for a year, every time she'd come down from Bath with her parents to their holiday cottage, and they'd had so much fun.
Not that her parents had approved of him, but, then, they wouldn't, would they? Not with his bad-boy reputation, and they'd had to do a fair amount of sneaking around to be together. But that second summer she'd come down alone after her final school exams, for the last summer before uni, and instead of it being the end, in a way it was to be the beginning---the beginning of the next phase of their lives. They'd got places at the same medical school in Bristol, and everything was panning out perfectly.
So he'd asked her to marry him and crazily, unbelievably, she'd said yes, so on a glorious day in early August they'd made their vows---vows he'd really meant, vows from the heart---and they'd honeymooned in the tumbledown little wooden shack on the beach that was his home for the summer, a retreat from the demands of home, a haven of tranquillity at first and then, with Gemma, a place of paradise---until her parents had come down from Bath and found them there.
They'd gone crazy, and Gemma had been in floods of tears, but she'd stood her ground, told them they were married and he'd shut the door in their faces and held her while she cried.
And then just days later, she'd left a note to say she'd changed her mind about them, and about going to uni. She wasn't sure if she wanted to read medicine after all, and she was deferring for a year and taking time out to think about things, going travelling---Gemma, who'd already seen the world with her wealthy parents---and going alone. She didn't want to see him again. And she was gone, she and her parents who'd obviously meant more to her than he had, their holiday home empty, closed up for the winter.
He'd never seen her again. Not a word, in all these years, all the time he'd been at med school in Bristol, keeping an eye on his family from a close distance and waiting and hoping for her to change her mind---he'd even been to see her parents, but they'd told him she didn't want to see him, and he wasn't going to beg.
So he'd given up on her and finished his degree, then moved to London, trained as a GP, then done a surgical rotation, and now here he was ten years down the line, working for an aid agency in Africa, and still she was following him in his head, in his heart, eating holes in him like some vile flesh-eating bug that wouldn't leave him alone. Asking after him, of all things!
How dare she? How dare she ask after him?
And he'd dream about her again tonight, he thought bitterly as he let out the clutch and shot off down the dirt track on the start of his journey. Every time she was mentioned, every time he thought about her, which was pretty much daily, she haunted his sleep, the memory of her laughter, her smile, then those few days and nights they'd had together, so precious, so tender, so absolutely bone-deep right that he'd just known she was the only woman he'd ever love---the memories were enough to drive him mad.
As mad as his mother, if she thought he was ever going back to Penhally to expose himself to that again. No way. It would kill him. But just to see her again---to touch her---to hold her in his arms, to bury his nose in her hair and smell the warm summer fragrance that was Gemma...
So he wasn't concentrating when he swerved off the road to avoid the broken-down car. He wasn't thinking that it was strange for the car to be there, that it was possibly a booby trap. He wasn't looking out for the rebels who'd left it there to trick him into going onto the verge.
He was thinking about his wife, about the soft sighs, the taste of her skin, the sobbing screams as she came apart in his arms.
And then he hit the landmine.
'HERE'S trouble.'
Gemma looked up from the paperwork she was sorting and saw old Doris Trefusis jerk her head towards the door. And her heart hiccuped against her ribs, because there could be only one person she was talking about, and she wasn't ready!
How silly. She'd thought she was prepared, but apparently not, if the pounding of her heart and the shaking of her legs was anything to go by.
Since his mother's stroke yesterday evening, she'd been psyching herself up for Sam coming down from London, but nothing could have prepared her for the emotional impact of her first sight of him in years. Ten years, nine months, two weeks, three days and four and a half hours, to be exact.
Long, lonely years in which she'd ached for him, hungry for any scrap of news, any snippet that would tell her what he was up to. Then last year his distraught mother had told her he'd been hurt in a stupid bike accident and she'd misunderstood and thought for a fleeting second that he'd died. Not for long, but it had devastated her, the pain of loss slamming through her and bringing home to her just how much she still loved him.
But that was ridiculous, because she didn't know him, not any more---if she ever really had. They'd been little more than kids, but he wasn't a kid now. Lord, no.
Not that he'd really been one then, at nineteen, but he certainly wasn't now, she thought, her heart lurching as he came into view. She was standing in the shadows at the back of Reception and she watched spellbound as he sauntered in, tall and broad, more solid than he had been in his late teens, but every bit as gorgeous. A slight limp was the only sign of his injuries, if anything only adding another layer of attraction, and that cocky smile flickering round his mouth was tearing her composure to shreds. But it wasn't for her. He hadn't seen her yet in her shadowy corner, and his smile was for Mrs Trefusis.
'Morning, Doris!' he said, and his deep, husky voice, so painfully familiar, made her heart turn over. 'How are you? Looking as young and gorgeous as ever, I see!'
Their diminutive and elderly cleaner put the magazines she was tidying back in the rack and looked him up and down, her mouth pursed repressively even though her eyes were twinkling. 'Good morning, Dr Cavendish.'
Gemma saw his mouth twitch and his eyebrows shoot up. 'Dr Cavendish? Whatever happened to young Samuel? I get the feeling I'm still in trouble with you, Doris---or does it have to be Mrs Trefusis now?'
Doris tutted. 'You can hardly expect a warm welcome, Samuel. You've been gone so long, and your poor mother---'
He snorted. 'My poor mother has had my support continuously since my father walked out seventeen years ago, as you very well know.'
'From a distance. You should have been here, Sam,' she chided gently.
Did his smile lose its sparkle? Maybe, although it didn't waver as he went on, 'Well, I'm here now, so you can start by offering me a cup of tea. I'm as dry as a desert.'
Doris sniffed. 'I'm not sure you deserve one.'
He grinned and gave her a slow, lazy wink. 'You're just saying that. You love me really,' he said, and Gemma watched old Doris Trefusis melt under the megawatt charm.
'Go away with you,' she said, blushing and flapping her hand at him. 'I'll bring it in---Dr Tremayne's half expecting you. I might even be able to find you one of Hazel's fairings if those doctors have left you any. She made an extra batch specially when she knew you were coming home.'
'What, to help lure me back in?' he said drily, glancing at Hazel Furse, the practice manager, with a wry smile. Then, as if he'd only just become aware of her presence at the back of Reception, he turned and met Gemma's eyes, his face suddenly expressionless.
'Gemma.'
That was all, just the one word, but it stopped her heart in its tracks. Oh, Sam. Were your eyes always so blue? Like a Mediterranean sky at night, cobalt blue, piercing through me.
'Hello, Sam.' Her voice sounded forced, and she had to swallow the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. 'Welcome home.'
His jaw tightened, and he nodded. 'Thank you. Hopefully it won't be for too long. Mrs Furse, would you be kind enough to tell Dr T. I'm here, please.'
'Sam! Good to see you! I saw you drive up. Come on in. Doris, I don't know if you could rustle up some tea...'
'It's all in hand, Dr Tremayne. Kettle's already on.'
Without another word to her, Sam turned his back on Gemma and limped into Nick's surgery, the older man's arm slung round his shoulders, and the door closed behind them.
She let her breath out then, unaware that she'd been holding it ever since he'd come in, holding back a part of herself that was too vulnerable, too tender and delicate and scarred to let him see.
He was back. Sam was back, but not the way she'd always dreamed of, had waited breathlessly for ever since she'd returned to Penhally last year in the hope that he might find out she was here and come back to her. Instead he'd come back for yet another family crisis, another duty visit, another call on his endless good nature and sense of responsibility that nobody else ever seemed to recognise.
But he hadn't come back for her, and she realised now, after seeing him, after the way he'd looked at her, that he never would. And the pain was devastating...
'Are you all right?'
She opened her eyes and saw Kate Althorp, one of their midwives, watching her with concern in her all-too-intelligent eyes.
'I'm fine, Kate.'
'Are you sure? You look a little pale.'
'I'm fine,' she said again, more firmly, because if Kate didn't let her go and get on, she was going to do something stupid like burst into tears in Reception. And there was no way she was letting anyone see her show so much as a flicker of emotion.
Even if her heart was being torn in two...
Sam stood at the window and stared back along Harbour Road at the devastation left behind by the flood last autumn, putting Gemma's face out of his mind. 'What happened to the Anchor Hotel?' he asked, although in truth he didn't care. It and its patrons had never appealed to him, and he was sure it had been mutual.
'It's been demolished---the new additions that were never properly built---and they're rebuilding it. There were a lot of properties damaged around the bottom of Bridge Street and Gull Close. There are lots of people still out of their homes.'
'It must have been quite something.'
'It was. It's a miracle the bridge survived. The noise was tremendous.'
'I'm sure. I missed all the news, I'm afraid---I was in hospital.'
'Yes, I know, your mother said you'd had an accident on your bike. I see you're still limping a bit. How are you?'
'Really?' He shrugged. 'Better. Frustrated by the slow progress, but better. So---I gather your crew are all married now?' he said, changing the subject to one he was more comfortable with, and Nick smiled, his lean face relaxing slightly.
'Yes, they are. And Jack and Lucy have both got families. In fact Lucy's decided she doesn't want to come back, so there's a job here if you're at a loose end...'
Sam snorted softly and shook his head at his old friend and mentor. 'I owe you a great deal, Dr T., but not that much.' Not while his wife was working here. 'Anyway, I'll be busy.'
'Yes, of course. How is your mother? She was pretty bad when I saw her yesterday evening, on her way in, but I phoned this morning and they said she's doing well.'
'Yes, she is, thanks. They've got her in the specialist stroke unit, and they scanned her straight away and put her on mega clot-busters, and she's improving already.'
'That's excellent. We're lucky to have the stroke unit. It's a real asset, but she'll still need some support for a while. Is that going to be a problem for you?'
'Not really.' He'd spent the last few months torn between physio and a desk job he loathed, trying to earn his keep at the charity he'd been working for when he'd been blown up and wondering where the hell to go from here. Next to all of that, this further infringement of his personal choice was small potatoes.
But his mother's life---well, that was certainly going to change, and if she had her way, change his with it. 'She's OK,' he said, trying to sound convincing. 'It's her left side, mostly her hand and her face, but that's just the visible stuff. I have no idea what else might have been affected or what she'll get back with this intensive treatment. Hopefully she'll make a full recovery, but I expect the full extent will reveal itself in time. I would have thought there are bound to be some after-effects.'
'Any idea of the cause?'
He shook his head. 'Not as yet. They're looking into it---she's having an echocardiogram and a carotid scan, and she's on a monitor, but so far they've drawn a blank. Her blood pressure's dreadful, too, and she's put on weight. Her diet's always been atrocious---she's addicted to chocolate, always has been, and the only reason she isn't enormous is that she hardly eats anything else. God alone knows what Jamie's been surviving on, there's no food in the house to speak of, and she's obviously depressed.'
'We'll sort her out, Sam, once she's home. Don't worry. And how's your brother coping?'
Sam turned away from the window and eased into a chair with a sigh, toying with one of Hazel's biscuits. 'By running away from it, I think, but he's been worrying her for a while. He's a nightmare. It's all too familiar, I'm afraid. Been there, done that, as the saying goes. I gather he's in trouble with the police as well, just to add insult to injury.'
'He is. He's got in with a bad crowd---Gary Lovelace amongst others.'
Sam frowned. 'Lovelace?'
'Yes---do you remember him? Proper little tearaway as a child, and he's no better now. He's a year older than Jamie, I think.'
He trawled his brains. 'I remember the name---probably the father's. Always in and out of the slammer for one thing or another. Petty stuff mostly, if I remember. So Gary's leading my little brother astray, is he? Damn.'
'I think he's willing to be led,' Nick said wryly. 'I've tried, Sam. I can't get through to him. I don't know him like I knew you---because my children have all grown up now, I hardly see his generation, whereas you were always in the house---usually in the kitchen eating us out of house and home or getting up to mischief in the garden. I can remember a few spontaneous bonfires...'
He gave Nick a crooked grin over the rim of his mug. 'Hmm. My "SAS" phase. Sorry about that.'
'Don't be sorry. You never really did any harm, and you were always welcome. Annabel had a really soft spot for you, you know.'
He met Nick's eyes with a pensive smile. 'I was very fond of her. You must miss her.'
'I do. She was a good woman. She used to worry about you, you know, and how your mother relied on you so heavily. It was no wonder you went off the rails. You had more than enough on your plate.'
'Yeah, well, that doesn't change, does it? I can't believe I'm back picking up the pieces all over again.'
'I can. You were a good boy, and you've turned into a good man, just as I knew you would.'
'Oh, that's just so much bull, Nick, and you know it. I wouldn't be here at all if I had the slightest damned excuse to get away.'
'Yes, you would---and your mother needs you. She misses you. Lots of people do.'
He gave a wry snort. 'Hardly. They all remember me as a hell-raiser. Even Doris Trefusis tore me off a strip on the way in, and I have no doubt Audrey Baxter won't waste a moment telling me I'm not welcome home.'
'Ah, no---you'll be spared that one. Mrs Baxter died in the flood.'
'Really? Poor woman.' He gave a wry smile. 'Not that she'd say that about me. She was always horrible to me---she made damn sure everyone knew everything I ever did, to the point that I used to do things in front of her and place bets with myself that my mother would know before I got home.'
'You were just misunderstood.'
He wasn't so sure about that. He grunted and looked around, not wanting to get into the past he was so keen to avoid. 'So---what's going on here? It looks a bit different to the last time I saw it. I haven't been in here since I did work experience when your brother was the GP.'
'Well, it's certainly changed since then. We reopened it five years ago.' He paused, his face troubled, and Sam realised he looked suddenly a great deal older. As well he might. Then he seemed to pull himself together and stood up. 'Come and have a look round. I doubt if you'll recognise it now. We've extended out the back, built a new minor injuries unit and X-ray and plaster rooms, but we're also planning to build another extension on the side into what used to be Althorps'. The boatyard burned down in September, and it worked in our favour because we were able to buy part of the site---do you remember Kate Althorp? James's widow?'
'Vaguely. I know the name and I remember James dying in the storm.'
A quick frown flitted across Nick's brow. 'Yes. Well, her brother-in-law wanted to sell up, and without the income Kate's half was redundant, so they cashed in on the insurance and sold the site. We bought enough land at the side of the surgery to extend it further, and to provide some more consulting rooms so we can extend the facilities offered by the MIU, which will give us a much better use of our space here. Come and see. You'll be impressed, I hope.'
He was---but he wasn't fooled. Nick was angling, but Sam wasn't biting. Under any other circumstances---but they weren't. They were what they were, and what they were was too damned hard to contemplate. They were standing at the top of the stairs discussing Nick's vision for the future of the surgery as a multi-disciplinary health centre with dental and osteopathy services when Nick was called to the phone, and he left Sam there and went into a consulting room to take the call.
And Gemma, who'd been the one to find Nick and tell him he was wanted on the phone, was left standing there with Sam, her soft grey-blue eyes wary, her body language defensive. As if he was in some way a threat.
That was a laugh. She was far more of a threat to him than he would ever be to her. She was the one who'd walked away.
He held her eyes, hardening himself to the expression in them, refusing to be drawn in. 'My mother said you were back.'
'Yes, I've been working here for a year now. How is she, Sam? Nick said she was improving.'
'Doing really well. Rather shocked, I think. We all are. She's only fifty-seven.'
'I know, but she's had high blood pressure for years, and her diet's a bit lacking.'
'What, in anything other than chocolate?' he said with a wry grin, and then felt his heart turn over when she smiled back. Oh, God, he wanted her---wanted to haul her into his arms, up against his chest and bury his nose in that thick, soft waterfall of hair, to breathe her in and see if she still smelled the same.
'She said you're still single,' he told her with an edge to his voice, and the smile faded instantly as she looked away.
'Well, we both know that's not true,' she said under her breath.
'I never could work it out. All this time, and you haven't asked for a divorce. And I wonder why not.'
'Well, you haven't, either.'
'No. It's not really been an issue. I've been busy.' Busy trying to forget her, busy pretending to himself that he didn't need a social life, that his marriage was just on hold and one day...
'I gathered. In Africa, saving the world. So how did you fall off this bike?'
'Oh, you know me---always taking risks, pushing my luck, playing the fool.'
'You're thirty, Sam. Isn't it time you grew up and stopped worrying your mother sick?'
He swallowed. Oh, he was grown up. He'd grown up the day he'd come home late from work with a bunch of flowers for her and found her letter.
Nick returned from taking his call. 'Sorry about that. Right, where were we?'
'I'll leave you to it. Send Linda my love,' Gemma said, and fled back into her room, her heart pounding, her legs like jelly and her stupid, stupid hormones racing through her body and dragging it from an elevenyear slumber into vibrant, screaming wakefulness...
'So---what do you think of the set-up?'
Nick had concluded his guided tour after a walk through the minor injuries suite downstairs and a quick chat with Lauren, the physio, a local girl whom Sam vaguely remembered, and they were back in Reception when Nick asked the question, his expression hopeful despite the simple words.
Except of course there was nothing simple about them, and it didn't take a genius to read the sub-text.
'Excellent---but I'm not falling for it, Nick,' Sam said softly. 'I don't want to work here.' Not with Gemma.
'Why? You need a job, we need a doctor. Your mother and brother need you and, frankly, looking at you, I reckon you need us. Can't I talk you into it---at least for a few weeks until we can get someone to take over? We'd be hugely grateful, and it would give you something productive to do while your mother recovers.'
'I've got plenty to do. The garden can't have been touched for years---'
'Gardening leave?' Nick said softly, his eyes mocking. 'At least think about it. Maybe it's time to come home, Sam.'
But then Gemma came downstairs again, and their eyes locked and pain lanced through him.
'I don't think so,' he muttered, and, turning on his heel, he crossed the reception area in two strides and slapped the swing door out of his way.
Then and only then did he breathe again...
She didn't know how she got through the rest of the day.
Sam had left the building, but his aura hung in the air, his presence filling every corner and bringing a huge lump to her throat every time she allowed herself the luxury of thinking of him.
Not that she had much time, because she had a busy afternoon surgery and afterwards she was due to go up to the high school for a careers evening. And on her way home to change, of course, she had to drive past his mother's house, and his car was on the drive. At least she assumed it was his car, because it had a hire-car logo in the window.
Oh, why was she so fixated on him? She couldn't afford to let herself do this. He was passing through, doing what he'd done over and over again, coming back only for long enough to do what was necessary and this time, just for good measure, tearing the scab off her wounded heart.
If she let him. She didn't have to, of course. She could keep him firmly at a distance. She'd heard Nick ask him to stay, seen him leave the building as if it were on fire.
Sam wouldn't be staying.
And she wouldn't be letting him into her heart.
'Sam! Hello, darling, I hoped you'd come.'
'Hiya. How are you? You sound better---your speech is much clearer. That's fantastic.' He brushed a kiss over his mother's drooping cheek---was it less noticeable?---and eased himself down into the chair beside her bed. 'I've brought you some grapes.'
'Not chocolate?'
He gave a short laugh. 'No, Mum, not chocolate. Grapes are good for you and, besides, I like them.' He helped himself to a handful and settled back in the chair, one foot crossed over the other knee. 'Anyway, I want to talk to you. About Jamie.'
'Oh, Sam, where is he?' she slurred, her eyes welling. 'I thought you'd bring him.'
'No, sorry, I had to walk the dog, and when I got back he'd gone out---he sent me a text, though. He had to be at school, he said.'
'He doesn't want to see me.'
He didn't tell her that the thought had occurred to him, too. 'No, it's legit. I rang the school---it's a careers evening and he's apparently volunteered to help out. I'm going over there as soon as I leave you to make sure he's there and talk to the staff.'
'Oh, dear,' she said ruefully.
'Mmm. I'm sure they'll have lots to say, but so have I. Don't worry, I'll sort Jamie out. You just concentrate on getting better.'
She gave a funny little laugh, then her face creased. 'How's Digger? Does he miss me?'
Sam smiled. 'I think he does, but he's enjoying his walks. We had a lovely run on the beach this morning at dawn.' Down to the other beach, to sit on the stumps of the old cabin and torture himself with the memories...
'Don't let him off the lead. He'll go down a hole.'
Sam laughed softly. 'I do remember you telling me how he got his name. I'll keep him on the lead, don't worry.'
'So---did you go to the surgery?' she asked after the slightest pause, and he braced himself for the inevitable questions.
'Yes, I saw Nick.'
'And Gemma?'
He felt his mouth tighten and consciously relaxed it. 'Yes, I saw Gemma. She sends her love. She seems to know you quite well.'
'Oh, she does. She runs the cont...'
She trailed off, exasperated by her uncooperative tongue, and Sam put in, 'The continuing care clinic?'
'Mmm. She does my blood pressure. She's beautiful, isn't she? Pretty girl.'
'I didn't notice,' he lied. 'I was a bit busy.'
God, it was a wonder his nose wasn't longer than
Pinocchio's! He put the grapes back on his mother's bed table before he crushed them all inadvertently, moved her newspaper and picked up her weakened left hand. 'Come on, let's do some physio. We need to keep these fingers moving.'
She shook her head. 'They just won't.'
'They will. Keep trying. Here, come on, I'll help you,' he said, and, taking her fingers in his, he started working on them, giving himself something to do apart from conjuring Gemma's image into his crazed mind.
But it didn't work, her image was still there larger than life, her soft, wounded, wary eyes torturing him, so after a few minutes he put his mother's hand down and stood up. 'Right, I'm off to the school to sort out young Jamie. I'll see you tomorrow. Be good.'
'What else?' she said sadly, and her eyes filled again, ripping at his conscience. 'Bring him---come for longer. I miss you, Sam. You don't know...'
His conscience stabbed him again, and he sighed softly. 'I do. You tell me often enough. But my life's not here, Mum.'
'Could be.'
'No. No, it couldn't. Just the moment you're better and I'm given the all-clear by the physios, I'm going back to Africa.'
Her fingers tightened on his, her right hand clutching at him in desperation. 'No, Sam! Don't! You can't go back!'
That was probably true, although not the way she meant it, but he wasn't giving in. Not yet. 'Mum, I have to go,' he repeated, and, freeing his hand, he dropped a swift kiss on her cheek and walked out.
'Sam! I didn't expect to see you here. It's the last place!'
'Well, ditto,' he said, and his smile looked strained. 'Have you seen Jamie?'
'He's here somewhere,' Gemma said, trying to control her see-sawing emotions. 'Doing the name badges and the drinks for the parents? He will have done the careers thing last year, so he's only helping. I don't like to be unkind, but it doesn't sound like him.'
'Maybe it was just a reason not to go and see Mum. He hasn't been in yet. I think he's scared, but while I'm here I need to speak to his teachers and find out what I can about him hanging around with Gary Lovelace.'
'Well, Lachlan D'Ancey's here, he'll fill you in. He's Chief Constable now, but he just comes to support the school and sell the police force. Nick Tremayne's here, too. If Lachlan's busy I expect Nick could use some help, there are always lots of people thinking of studying medicine.'
He shook his head. 'I don't think the school would be interested in my support. I wasn't exactly their star pupil.'
'That's rubbish, Sam, you got four As at A level!'
'Only because I was constantly being grounded.'
She smiled slightly, remembering the tales of how rebellious he'd been, how he'd pushed everyone to the limit of their patience, worried his mother senseless and alienated half of the town.
Which, of course, had only made him even more attractive.
She dragged her eyes from Sam and looked at the girl who was hovering behind him. 'Hi. Did you want to see me?'
'Um---yes, please. I'm thinking of going into nursing, and I wondered if you could tell me about it.'
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sam lift his hand in farewell as he walked away, and she stifled a sigh of regret.
Foolish, foolish woman. It's over. Forget it.
But she couldn't, and for the rest of the evening her eyes were constantly searching for him, and every time they found him, her silly, stupid heart would lurch against her ribs.
It might be over, but apparently she couldn't forget it. Not for the last nearly eleven years, and certainly not now, with Sam right here under her nose, his presence reminding her of everything she'd lost...
'SAM---good to see you.'
He stifled a wry grin at the blatant lie from the man who'd had altogether too much to do with him in his youth. 'Hello, Lachlan. How are you?'
'Very well. Great, actually. Married again.'
Sam hadn't known he'd got unmarried, but he wasn't surprised that yet another thing had happened in Penhally without him knowing. He'd done his best to distance himself, so it was hardly rocket science, and he made some trite and socially acceptable remark and then Lachlan brought the conversation, not unexpectedly, around to Jamie.
'Your brother's getting himself in a bit of bother these days,' he murmured. 'You want to have a word with him. He's going to end up with a criminal record if he goes on like this, and it's a crying shame because he's a good lad really. Sharp as a tack, which is half his trouble, of course, like it was yours. What he needs is a good role model.'
'Well, don't look at me,' Sam said with a low laugh. 'I'm the last person to give him advice.'
'I disagree. You're just the person---he reminds me a lot of you.'
'What---loud and unruly?'
'No---lost,' he said, and Sam looked away, uncomfortable with Lachlan's all too accurate interpretation of his youthful emotions. 'You need to get him out of the influence of that young Gary Lovelace. He's a nasty piece of work---God alone knows what Jamie sees in him, but he's leading your little brother into all sorts of mischief.'
Sam straightened. 'Not drugs?'
'Not that we know of, but I shouldn't be surprised. But Gary's a thief, and a bully, like his father and his little brother, and you need to get Jamie away from him before something bad happens.'
Sam sighed inwardly. This was the last thing he needed.
'So how's your mother? I was sorry to hear about her stroke---she seems far too young.'
'Yes. But strokes can happen to anyone, from tiny babies upwards. She's making great progress, but we just need to know why it happened to stop it happening again.'
'You ought to speak to Gemma. It was Gemma who found her. She went round after work and checked up on her because she was worried.'
'Did she?' he said softly, wondering why Gemma hadn't mentioned it. Because she didn't want to talk to him any more than she had to? Very likely. He didn't really want to talk to her, either, and so far all their exchanges had been carefully contained, with all hell breaking loose just under the surface---at least, on his side. But if Gemma had found his mother, she could easily have been responsible for saving her life, and at the very least he ought to thank her. Not even he was that churlish.
'I'll go and have a word. Thanks, Lachlan---and if you hear anything I need to know about Jamie, let me know.'
'Will do. And you do the same.'
'Sure.'
He went back towards Gemma, but there was a crowd of young girls around her, so he wandered over to the desk where Jamie was handing out name tags and soft drinks to parents.
'Checking up on me?' Jamie said, his mouth set in a defiant line, and Sam just smiled.
'No. I don't need to, I've got the rest of Penhally doing that, by all accounts. How long are you going to be here?'
'Another few minutes, then I'm going out with my friends.'
Sam frowned. 'Why? It's a school night. You've got your exams in a few weeks, you should be working.'
'Nah. I've got it all under control, Sam. You don't have to come home and play the heavy brother with me.'
'That's not what I'm hearing.'
'Well, tough. What do they know?'
'Well, I gather Mr D'Ancey knows quite a lot about you---probably rather more than is healthy.'
Jamie's eyes slid away and his face took on a defensive cast. 'Whatever. I'm out tonight. My work's up to date, I've got nothing outstanding---and don't even think about suggesting I tidy my bedroom. All I hear from Mum is that I'm just like you.'
Sam stifled a smile and gave up---for now. 'OK. But not late. Ten.'
'Tenthirty.'
'Ten-fifteen---and if you're so much as thirty seconds late, you're grounded for a week.'
'What? Where do you get off---?'
'Suit yourself. Ten-fifteen or you're grounded. I'll see you later.'
And without giving his brother a chance to argue any further, he walked away. Gemma was free now, and he crossed to her quickly before another wannabe nurse appeared. 'Can we talk?'
Her eyes widened with alarm, and he realised she'd misunderstood. Or maybe she hadn't, not really, but he wasn't getting into all that now. He could barely keep a lid on his emotions as it was. The last thing he needed was to have a deeply personal conversation in public with the woman who'd shredded his heart. 'About my mother,' he added, and saw the alarm recede.
'Sure. When are you thinking of?'
'After you finish? I haven't eaten yet, I don't know if you have, but I thought we could go up to the Smugglers' and have something there while we talk.'
She nodded slowly. 'That would be fine. Give me another few minutes, and if nobody else comes, we can go.'
'Fine.' He gave her a brisk nod, and walked off to find Nick.
'Ah, Sam, just the man. This is Dr Cavendish---he's been working in Africa with an aid agency---was it Doctors Without Borders?'
'No, but it's similar,' he said. 'Why?'
'Young David here is considering medicine and wants to work in that field. Can you give him some advice?'
He dredged up a smile for the youngster. 'Sure. What do you want to know?'
'Sorry about that, I got caught up.'
'So did I. Nick found me a young lad with a death wish. He wants to work in Africa---he's talking about doing a gap year with an aid agency before he goes to med school.'
'So what did you say?'
'Don't do it. Are you all done now?'
'Yes.'
'Then let's get out of here---have you got your car?'
'Yes. Shall I meet you up at the pub?'
'Good idea.'
He followed her down past the surgery to the harbour and turned right along Harbour Road past the shrouded site of the Anchor Hotel, over the River Lanson at the bottom of Bridge Street and along to the end, past Nick Tremayne's house and his mother's house next door, then up the hill, past the little church on the left with the lighthouse beyond it on the headland, and then over the rise to the Smugglers' Inn.
The place was doing well, if the number of cars outside on a week night was anything to go by, and he parked in the last space and got out, breathing deeply and drawing the fresh sea air into his lungs.
God, that smelt good. It was one of the few things about Penhally that he missed---apart from Gemma, who was walking towards him now, her eyes unreadable in the dimly lit car park. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her coat, and she looked wary and uncertain, as if she was regretting saying yes.
She didn't need to. He wasn't a threat to her. He had no intention of getting into any personal territory at all. Not even slightly.
'Lots of cars,' he said, aiming for something neutral. 'Do you think we'll get a seat?'
She looked round and shrugged. 'I don't know. We could always sit outside on the terrace,' she said doubtfully.
Hell, no. They'd spent whole evenings on that terrace, and it was the last place he wanted to go. 'It's not warm enough, the food might get cold.'
'There might be room inside.'
'We'll see.' Oh, God, endless pleasantries, and all he really wanted to do was touch her, thread her hair through his fingers, feel her body soft against his...
He yanked open the door of the pub and ushered her in, and as they walked into the bar, a hush fell.
'Well, by all the saints, young Samuel. Come home to cause havoc, have 'e, lad?'
'Ignore him,' Gemma muttered, but he went over to old Fred Spencer and shook his hand.
'How are you, Mr Spencer?'
'Better'n you, by all accounts. Why you limpin'?'
'Fell off my bike,' he said economically. 'And don't say it.'
'Well, I 'spect it was your fault.'
'Why not? It always was, wasn't it?'
The old man cracked a laugh and turned back to his companions. 'Always had to have the last word, young Sam.'
Only not always. Not with Gemma. There'd been no chance to have the last word, to talk things through, to get to the bottom of it---and he wasn't starting now.
Leaving Fred with his mates, they went over to the bar and ordered drinks and scanned the specials board.
'The steak's still good,' Gemma said. 'I think I'll have that---just the small one.'
'Rare?'
She nodded, surprised and yet not that he would have remembered. They'd always had the steak frites in here, and it had always been good, and she'd always had it rare.
Listen to her! Always, indeed. What was she thinking? It had only been---what? Ten, maybe twelve times in all, over more than a year? But it was all the time they'd had together, and it had been precious, every last second of it.
He ordered the steak for her, but to her surprise he ordered beef Stroganoff for himself---just in case she thought it was all too cosy down Memory Lane? She wasn't sure, not sure at all, about any of it, and she didn't really have any idea what she was doing here with him, tearing herself apart, when she could have been safely tucked up at home.
'Ah, there's a table here,' he said, and led her across the room to where a couple were just leaving. He held the chair for her to sit down, and as he did so, his hand brushed her arm.
Dear God, he thought, desperately resisting the need to touch her again, to reach out and let his fingers linger over that soft, slender arm, to run them over her shoulder, to slide the lightweight jersey top aside and press his lips to her skin...
He retreated to the safety of the other side of the table and sat down opposite her, flicking his eyes over the menu even though he'd already ordered, staring out of the window as she shuffled in her seat, organising her bag, placing her drink carefully in the centre of the beer mat with great precision.
And then, once they were settled and there was nothing left to fidget with, there was a silence that was so full of unspoken words it was like a roar in his head. And he had to break it or go mad.
'So---you came back to Penhally,' he said, trying to find something neutral to talk about and failing dismally at the first hurdle.
She glanced away, but not before he'd seen a shadow in her eyes. 'Yes. I love it here.'
Especially when he wasn't there. His mouth tipped in a mocking smile. 'I thought it was too small for you? Too pedestrian. Too provincial. Wasn't that why you left to see the world and didn't come back?'
Hardly. It was the place where her heart was, where she'd found a love she'd thought would last forever, but she couldn't tell him that or she'd have to tell him why she'd gone, so she just gave him a level look and lied in her teeth.
'You know why I left---to go travelling while I considered my career options. And you can talk about leaving to see the world, Sam. It's me who's living here now. You've hardly been home.'
'Et tu, Brute? Isn't this where you tell me that I've failed my mother and failed my brother and ought to move home like a good little boy? Well, news flash, Gemma. I've got a life now, and it's not here. And it never will be.' Thanks to her. His jaw tightened, and she felt a stab of pain for him, and for herself.
'I'm sorry,' she said softly. 'It's none of my business. But for what it's worth, I don't think you should come home for your mother or your brother. You did more than enough for them, Sam, and you've got two sisters who don't live a million miles away who could be putting more into this than they are. But maybe you should think about coming home for you.'
'Oh, for God's sake, what is it about Penhally and everyone telling me what to do?'
'I wasn't telling you---'
'Weren't you? Well, it sounded like it from where I'm sitting.'
Or maybe that was his conscience, he thought, guilt racking him yet again for the hurt look he'd put in her eyes.
'I don't want to go into this. I brought you here to talk about my mother's stroke, not me,' he said after a moment in which they'd both taken a deep breath and regrouped. 'I gather you found her last night?'
She met his eyes squarely, her own still reproachful. 'Yes---she came in the day before yesterday to see me for a routine blood-pressure check, and she mentioned that she'd noticed her heart doing something funny in the evening a couple of times. I had a word with Adam---Adam Donnelly, one of our doctors---and he suggested we should do an ECG and then refer her to St Piran for some tests.'
'And?'
'I did the ECG yesterday, and there was nothing out of the ordinary at all, but I was just a bit worried about her. Her blood pressure was up again, and---I don't know, she just didn't seem right. And she looked a bit strained around the eyes. So after work I popped in. There was no reply to the doorbell, so I went round the back and opened the door because I could hear Digger whining, and I found her at the kitchen table, looking chalky grey and sweaty and feeling terrible. And she had a killer headache, apparently, and she said she'd had some kind of convulsion, but I noticed her mouth was drooping a bit and then she just lost her speech. It was a classic stroke, so I called Nick and got the ambulance on its way, and alerted the specialist unit, and---well, I don't know how she is now. I went in with her last night because Jamie wasn't around and I didn't want her to be alone, but I haven't had time to get up there again. I was going to go and see her in my lunch break but I thought you might be there, and then there was the careers evening so I just haven't had a chance. So how is she? Really? She must have been so frightened.'
He nodded slowly. 'I think so. But who wouldn't be? It's a really big thing, isn't it, and it could have been so much worse if you hadn't checked on her. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't. It sounds as if your prompt action's made a huge difference to the impact of her stroke, and if you hadn't gone in---well, talking to the staff it's clear that without immediate help she could easily have died, so thank you. She sends you her love, by the way. She seems very fond of you.'
Gemma gave a soft, wry little laugh. 'I can't imagine why. I bully her dreadfully.'
'She needs it. So---about this heart thing...'
'Mmm. I mean, obviously it hasn't been investigated properly yet, but I was wondering---do you think she could have some kind of AF?'
'Atrial fibrillation? Could well be. It would fit. I just can't understand how she hasn't felt it in her chest before, if she's got AF and it's sustained enough that she's forming clots. You'd think you'd feel it if your heart's not beating right.'
'Not everyone does feel it, though, and atrial fibrillation is notoriously tricky to control.'
'Especially if you OD on stimulants like tea and coffee and very dark chocolate. It's always given her the odd palpitation, and maybe it's just accustomed her to a funny heartbeat from time to time, and then the AF doesn't feel so very different---'
'Steak frites and beef Stroganoff?'
'Thanks, Tony,' Sam said, leaning back so the landlord could put their plates down. He paused to welcome Sam back.
'Good to see you again. How are things? Sorry about your mother.'
'Thanks,' he said, feeling a little awkward because clearly everyone knew about her, recognised him and also recognised the fact that he'd been notable by his absence. Then he chatted to Gemma for a few moments, and while he listened to them, Sam watched her, her face attentive, her eyes crinkling with humour when Tony made a joke, and all the time her lips were moving, soft and warm, bare of lipstick but moist from the occasional flick of her tongue, and it was getting increasingly difficult to sit there and pretend that he felt nothing for her, this woman who'd torn his heart apart.
His wife, for heaven's sake.
Then Tony moved away, and he turned his attention to his food, and for a while they were both silent. Then she lifted her head and said, 'You know you made that remark about David having a death wish because he wanted to go to Africa? What did you mean?'
He shrugged. 'It was just a joke.'
'No. You meant something, and you said you'd told him not to go, and when you were talking to Fred just now about the accident---what happened, Sam?' she asked softly. 'Did you really just fall off your bike?'
He sighed and set down his fork. 'Really? In a manner of speaking,' he said, and then bluntly, because he still wanted to lash out, he went on, 'I hit a landmine.'
Her face bleached of colour, and he caught her glass just as it slipped through her fingers. 'Careful, anybody would think you still cared, and we all know that's not true,' he said with bitter irony.
She sat back, her eyes filling, and closed them quickly, but not quickly enough because a single tear slipped down her cheek and that old guilt thing kicked in again. 'Actually I was thinking of your mother---how she would have coped if...'
'If I'd died?' he prompted, trying not to look at the tear, and she sucked in a tiny breath.
'Don't.' She swallowed and opened her eyes, reaching for her glass. He still had it in his hand, and as he passed it to her, their fingers met and he felt the shock race through him again.
Damn. Still, after all these years...
She took a sip and put it down, then met his eyes again. 'So what really happened, Sam? With the landmine?'
He made himself concentrate on something other than the little trail the tear had made on her cheek. 'There was a booby trap---a car in the road. I swerved round it, not paying attention, and the back wheel caught the antipersonnel mine and it hurled the back of the bike up into the air. Luckily the panniers were rammed with equipment, which protected me from the blast, but the force of the explosion threw me forwards onto the ground.'
'And?'
'And I broke my collar bone and my ankle,' he told her, grossly oversimplifying it. 'Oh, and tore the rotator cuff in my left shoulder.'
She nodded slowly. 'I've noticed you don't use your left hand very much.'
'Got out of the habit,' he lied, and turned his attention back to his food, leaving her sitting there in silence, struggling with the image of him being hurled through the air and smashed into the ground.
She felt sick. It could have been so much worse, she thought, and set down her knife and fork, unable to eat while her emotions churned round inside her and the man she loved was just a foot away, his eyes fixed on his plate, obviously in a hurry now to finish his meal and leave. He'd only wanted to thank her for finding his mother, and he'd done that, and now he just wanted to go.
Fair enough. So did she, and she was about to get up and leave when Tony stopped by their table.
'Everything all right?' he asked, and she nodded and smiled at him and picked up her knife and fork again, forcing herself to finish her food before it was not only the flavour of sawdust, but stone cold with it.
'So how long will she be in?' he asked the registrar the next day.
'Just a few days. We want to get her anticoagulation sorted and then she can be discharged.'
He felt a flicker of fear, the tightening of the noose of responsibility, and consciously slowed his breathing down.
'Surely she can't come home until she's able to look after herself?'
'But I gather you're at home now, so that's not a problem, is it?'
He arched a brow. 'You want me to look after my mother? Attend to her personal care?'
'Why not? You're a doctor.'
But she's my mother! he wanted to scream, but it was pointless. She would have done the same for him, and it was only because it made him feel trapped that he was so desperate to get away. And last night, with Gemma---well, it had been an emotional minefield every bit as dangerous to his health as the one he'd encountered on the bike, and he hadn't been able to get away from the pub quick enough.
He'd used Digger as an excuse, and he'd gone back to the house, collected the dog and taken him for a long walk along the beach in the moonlight, right down to the far end and back while he thought about Gemma and how he still wanted her so badly it was tearing holes in him.
He couldn't do it---couldn't stay here. He just wanted to get away, to go back to Africa and lick his wounds in peace. Well, not peace, exactly, but anonymity, at least, without the benefit of the residents of Penhally telling him he'd deserted his mother and let his brother run wild and failed them both, with Gemma in the background reminding him that he'd failed her, too, or why the hell else would she have left him when everything between them had seemed so incredibly perfect?
But he couldn't go back to Africa, because he couldn't operate, because his collar bone hadn't just broken, it had shredded his left brachial plexus and damaged the sensory nerves to his left hand, and his shoulder was still weak from the tear to his rotator cuff when he'd landed on it, and his leg---well, his ankle would heal slowly and improve with time, unlike his hand, but in the meantime he'd struggle to stand for hours operating, even if he could feel what he was doing with his hand, which he couldn't, and he couldn't ride a bike, not with his left arm so compromised and his ankle inflexible, so it was pointless thinking about it and tormenting himself.
And his mother aside, there was the problem of Jamie, who had come in last night at seventeen minutes past ten. Late, but not so late that he was going to say anything, and so they'd established an uneasy truce.
But the need to get away was overwhelming, and after he left the hospital he drove up onto Bodmin Moor and walked for hours with Digger over the rough grass and heather until his ankle was screaming and he wasn't sure how he'd get back, his mind tortured with memories of Gemma, lying there with him in the heather and kissing him back for hour after hour until he thought he'd die of frustration.
Huh. No way. He'd discovered through painful and bitter experience that you didn't die of frustration, you just wished you could, because that would bring an end to it at last.
He sat down on a granite outcrop with the panting Jack Russell at his feet and stared out over the barren, wild landscape while he waited for the pain in his ankle to subside. He could see a few sturdy little ponies grazing and, in the distance, a small herd of Devon Red bullocks turned out for fattening on the spring grass. But apart from that and the inevitable sheep dotted about like cotton-wool balls in the heather, there was nothing there but the wide-open skies and the magical, liquid sound of the curlews.
And gradually, as the warmth of the spring sun seeped into his bones and the bleak, familiar landscape welcomed him home, he accepted what he had to do---what he'd known, ever since he'd had the phone call about her stroke, that he would have to do.
He didn't like it---he didn't like it one bit---but he had no choice, and he would do it, because that was who he was. He would stay at home and look after his mother until she was better, he'd get his brother back on the rails, and then he'd look at his future.
Always assuming he could get off this damned moorland without calling out the Air Ambulance!
'Lauren?'
The physiotherapist looked up and smiled at him a little warily. 'Oh, hi, Sam. How are you?'
He pulled a wry face. 'Sore---that was what I wanted to see you about. I don't suppose I can book myself in for some physio with you, can I? I overdid it up on Bodmin this afternoon and I could do with a good workout. Maybe after you finish one evening?'
Her face clouded. 'Oh. Um---evenings aren't good for me. I've got RP---retinitis pigmentosa...'
She was going blind? 'Hell, I'm sorry, I had no idea.'
She shrugged. 'It's fine, Sam. It's progressing slowly, but I'll take it as it comes and in the meantime---well, I can still do practically everything I did before, but I only work daylight hours now. I can't see very well when the light fades, but I'm more than happy to fit you in at lunchtime---or if Gabriel's not working late so he can get home for the dog, I can do it then if you don't mind giving me a lift home?'
'Of course not---but lunchtime's fine if it suits you best. It's just my ankle.'
'Not your hand and arm?'
He hesitated, glancing down at it and wondering if it was so damned obvious to everyone.
'I noticed you don't use it,' she said gently, 'and you don't use your shoulder much, either, but it's not obvious, Sam. It's my job---I ought to be able to tell. But it doesn't matter now. Just come and we'll go through it all then, see what I need to do for you. Say---one tomorrow?'
He gave her a fleeting smile. 'That would be great.'
'Can't you keep away, Sam?'
He straightened up and stepped back out of Lauren's doorway, and met the older man's eyes. 'Hi, Nick.'
'So, have you changed your mind? I sincerely hope so. We're so damned busy it's ridiculous. Dragan's out today because the baby was ill and Melinda's had a foul cold and he thinks he's going down with it, too, just to add insult to injury, and everyone in Penhally seems to have realised it's coming up to the spring bank holiday weekend so they're trying to get in quick, and I'm desperately trying to find time to organise the lifeboat barbeque for Saturday. So if you want a job...?'
'Organising the barbeque?' he asked, surprised, but Nick gave a short laugh.
'No, you don't get off that lightly---the locum job.'
He sighed and rammed a hand through his hair. 'Nick, I---'
'Please?'
'I'm out of touch.'
'Rubbish. What the hell do you think you've been doing in Africa?'
He laughed. 'Taking out an appendix under local? Trying to rehydrate a tiny child with boiled river water with some salt flung in it? Lancing an abscess the size of a football? Not juggling someone's drugs to get the best result from their blood-pressure medication, or advising some spoilt middle-aged woman to drink more water, get off her backside and take some exercise if she wants to get rid of her constipation, that's for sure! Hell, Nick, I can't do this any more.'
'Of course you can. Compared to Africa it'll be a walk in the park.'
He shook his head. 'I don't want this, Nick. Don't ask me, please.'
'Why not? It's a great practice, and if you wanted to come back permanently, with Lucy gone I'm sure we can find a slot for you here.' His voice changed, becoming deeper, huskier, and he looked exhausted. 'We're desperate, Sam. We've been struggling without Lucy for weeks, keeping the job open for her because we couldn't get a locum, but now---well, we need to advertise the post and that takes time, and frankly we're all at the end of our rope. We need you.'
Them and everyone else, it seemed. He sighed again and turned away, but there was nowhere to go, because Jamie was running wild and his mother was in hospital and needed him for weeks, if not months, and he couldn't just sit on his backside and watch the world go to hell while he twiddled his thumbs, it just wasn't in his nature. But...
'The people here don't want me, Nick. I was a nightmare.'
'You were a boy. You're a man now. And people forget.'
'Not in Penhally, they don't. They're all bloody elephants.'
Nick chuckled, but his face was still hopeful and he could feel the staff behind the reception desk all holding their breath for his reply.
He shook his head slowly, feeling the ground crumbling beneath his feet. 'OK. I'll help you out---but just the odd day here and there. Nothing drastic. And don't go getting ideas about me coming back in a full-time, permanent post or anything like that, because it just won't happen.'
Nick smiled, slapped him on the shoulder and led him over to Reception. 'Of course not. Hazel, sign him up for locum duty, please. And start booking him in for as much as you can talk him into. I haven't had a day off in four weeks and I'm tired. He can cover Dragan's surgeries tomorrow. Oh, and schedule a practice meeting for the morning---I'll introduce you to everyone, Sam. I'm sure they'll all be delighted you've agreed to join us.'
'Temporarily.'
'Of course, of course,' Nick agreed, but there was something in his voice that wasn't in the least reassuring.
Sam shut his eyes and sighed. Damn.
Damn, damn and double damn.
Why the hell had he said yes?
And then he opened his eyes and saw Gemma staring at him with a stricken look, and if there'd been any way out, he would have taken it.
But there wasn't, and he wasn't any more delighted than she was.
HOW on earth was she going to work with him?
She hadn't spoken to him since she'd left the Smugglers' on Wednesday night, and her heart hadn't settled back into a normal rhythm since he'd been back in Penhally. But work with him, having to talk to him about patients, going into the staffroom and finding him sitting there and having to exchange polite conversation when all she wanted to do was turn back the clock and---
What? Not have married him? Not have spent that wonderful, idyllic time with him that fate had so savagely cut short? It would have been kinder, but not to have had that time---even the thought was unbearable. And anyway, she had married him, and for the last nearly eleven years he'd hated her, and then suddenly, because he'd taken the locum job, they were going to be thrust together and she couldn't understand why he'd agreed.
She hadn't slept all night for thinking about it, and now she was in the crowded staffroom perched on the edge of Lauren's chair with Chloe balanced on the other arm, and all the doctors and reception staff were crowded onto the other seats or clustered round the tea and coffee pots as they waited.
And then Nick strode in, followed by Sam, and she felt his eyes on her instantly.
'Morning, everyone!' Nick said, smiling broadly and rubbing his hands together. 'I'm sorry about the early start, but I wanted to introduce our new locum Sam Cavendish to you. I know some of you will recognise him---Lauren, Chloe, you were probably at school with him---but I'd just like to run through everyone and their jobs, to help you find your feet, Sam. Now, from left to right, Gemma Johnson and Lara Mercer are our practice nurses---Gemma, I know you met many years ago.'
Met? Met? Gemma nearly laughed out loud, but the tears were too close to the surface to let go that much. And Nick was still talking.
'Hazel's now our practice manager but I don't know if you've met Sue Gunnell, our head receptionist, then Kate Althorp you remember---she and Chloe are midwives, Rebecca Grey is one of our district nurses, and Lauren, as you know, is our resident physio.
'As for the medical team, we've got Adam Donnelly, who's another local you may remember, Dragan Lovak who's off sick today, Oliver Fawkner, and Gabriel Devereux who's on loan from France and who we've just persuaded to stay. And that's pretty much us. Sam, do you want to introduce yourself?'
The handshaking over, Sam grunted softly and looked around. 'Yeah, hi, everyone,' he said, his voice soft. 'I do know quite a few of you, certainly by sight, and I wish I could say it was good to be back, but you'll all know my mother's had a stroke and that's why I'm here, so I've agreed to fill in for Lucy just until my mother's recovered, and then I'll be going back to my real job, so for those of you who're having heart failure at the thought of a Cavendish having anything to do with your nearest and dearest, relax. I'll be out of here just the moment I can. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to help, so please, just ask.'
It was said with a smile, and it was greeted with a warm ripple of laughter, but it made Gemma's heart ache. Why was he so sure he wasn't welcome, when it was clear to her, looking around at them, that they were all more than happy to have him back in the fold?
Well, almost all. She couldn't count herself in their number, but her reservations were entirely different, and had things not been the way they were, her life, and Sam's, would have been very different too. But at least she had a life, and if he decided to stay, if in the long term his mother's problems were resolved and he was here by choice, then maybe then she might be able talk to him, tell him why---
'Could I just mention something?' Kate Althorp said. 'I know Sam's stepped in, and we're all very grateful because it means the doctors will have less to do and so Nick might not be so crabby all the time...'
They all laughed---even Nick, she noticed---and then she went on, 'It's become apparent, talking to the mums, that losing Lucy---or more specifically losing our only woman doctor---wasn't universally welcomed, because many of them would rather see a woman for some of the problems that they encounter. Now, Sam is only going to be here for a short while if everything with Linda progresses well, and for her sake I hope it does, but I've heard on the grapevine that Polly Carrick is looking for a change of direction and may be looking for a job---some of you may remember her, very quiet, soft-spoken, nice girl. She used to be Polly Searle. Lauren, she's a little younger than you.'
'I remember her,' Sam said. 'She had her nose in a book all the time---we met at a few careers things for wannabe doctors, and I was surprised at that. She was so quiet---tiny little thing. Bit of a mouse, really.'
'That's her. Well, she's a GP now, in London, but as I say, she might be on the move. And, yes, she is my goddaughter, but she's also a wonderful doctor---and a woman, of course. She's a fantastic listener, and I think she'd be brilliant. Just a thought to drop into the mix, if we find ourselves in a position to employ another doctor at any time. And I don't even know at this stage if she'd be interested, but I think we should consider the issue of having a female doctor on staff very seriously.'
Nick straightened, obviously keen to get on. 'Right. Thank you for that, Kate. We'll bear her in mind. OK, if there's nothing else, I'd like to welcome Sam again and I'm sure you'll find that everyone does what they can to make you feel at home. If it helps, I'm sure someone'll take you under their wing for the day to show you the ropes. Gabriel, perhaps, if you wouldn't mind? And now I'm going to sort out the barbeque or we'll all be eating raw sausages tomorrow. You can get me on my mobile if you need me. Kate?'
The meeting broke up, Kate raising her eyebrows and following Nick with a resigned look on her face, and then as Gemma stood, she found herself hard up against a solid and still achingly familiar body.
'Sorry. I was just coming over to talk to you,' Sam murmured, stepping back hastily, but she could hardly hear him for the roaring in her ears and the thundering of her heart.
'That's fine. Sorry. Um---so what did you want?'
'A quiet word?'
Damn. She didn't want a quiet word with Sam. She didn't want any words with him---unless they were words that would take her back into his arms, and she didn't think those words had ever been invented...
'Not now. I've got a clinic.'
He followed her to the door of her room and stood just inside it, his voice low. 'I'm not going to hold you up. I just wanted to say that I know this situation isn't ideal, but I don't want to make things difficult for you and I'll keep out of your way as much as possible. It's not for long, and nobody knows about us, not really, so I'd like to keep it that way. Less complicated all round.'
And God knows, there are enough complications, she thought sadly. 'Sure,' she said, swallowing and wishing he'd leave her alone, and then there was a tap on the door and Gabriel came and rescued her, taking Sam off to his consulting room on the ground floor to shadow him for the day and leaving her in peace to start her clinic.
'Right, I've spoken to Mike Trevellyan and he's going to deliver the meat tomorrow morning, and they're also donating some ice cream and the vending cart for the day. Have you sorted out the rolls and sauces and so on?'
Kate gave a quiet sigh at Nick's typical need to micromanage everything. 'Yes. The supermarket's delivering everything in the morning, and lots of people have volunteered to bring salads and side dishes, so all we have to do is fire up the barbeque and we're done.'
'Excellent. I've got to pick the oil drums up from Ben and Lucy's barn, and we need charcoal. Shall I do that?'
'If you've got time. Your car's bigger than mine. And we need the tables picked up from the church hall, while you're at it. There'll be someone there from three.'
Kate watched Nick as he jotted down a note to himself, and then when he looked up, she said carefully, 'Do you think it's wise, asking Sam to do the locum job?'
Nick looked startled. 'Well, of course it's wise! For God's sake, Kate, if I can't have a bit of faith in the lad, who can? I've known him all his life---'
'It's not Sam I'm worried about, Nick. It's Gemma.'
'Gemma?'
He looked utterly confused, and for the hundredth time Kate wondered how he could be so incredibly obtuse and emotionally inept. 'Yes, Gemma. Well, Sam and Gemma, to be absolutely accurate.'
'What about them?'
She shrugged. 'I just wondered if it would be difficult for them.'
'Difficult? Why on earth should it be difficult? They had a little fling eleven years ago. Why would that make any difference to them now? It's in the past, Kate.'
'Because they're not over it? You can feel the tension coming off them in waves. It may be in the past, but it's far from over, if the look on Gemma's face is anything to go by, and when she's in the room Sam doesn't know where to look. And just because something's in the past doesn't mean it's resolved,' she added pointedly.
He met her eyes then, a flicker of guilt in them. 'Kate, I don't want to talk about this.'
'I know. You never do. But that won't stop Jeremiah being your son, Nick, and one day you're going to have to accept that, because one day I'm going to have to tell him before he finds out from somebody else.'
'Who?' he snapped sharply. 'Who knows?'
'Well, virtually no one---unless you count the tourist who pointed out how alike you are.'
A dull run of colour stained his neck as he turned away. 'I can't deal with this now.'
'You never can, Nick---and I'm beginning to wonder if you ever will until it's thrust on you by circumstance. But you need to know that if Jem ever asks me, I won't lie to him. I will tell him the truth. And he'll have a right to know why his own father wouldn't acknowledge him.'
And without another word, she walked out, head held high and her heart pounding. She was sick of it. Sick of beating her head against a brick wall, sick of Nick stonewalling her on the subject, sickened by everything that had happened that summer---the same summer that Sam and Gemma had had their fling that was so obviously not forgotten.
She just hoped that they had more luck resolving it than she'd had.
To Sam's surprise, remarkably few people commented on his presence in Gabriel's surgery. There was a sign up in Reception telling the patients that he'd be covering Lucy for a while, and far from dragging him out into the car park and setting fire to him, they either smiled politely or ignored him.
That was fine. He didn't want or expect a rapturous welcome. He just wanted to do his job, and by eleven he was clawing the walls.
And Gabriel must have realised it, because in the next gap between patients he pushed back his chair after the last patient and smiled at him.
'OK. You don't need me showing you how to do this. You can take over from me here now so I can go and do my calls, and Oliver's around if you have a problem. I'll be in this afternoon doing a surgery, so if you think of anything else you need to know, just buzz through and ask one of us, and we should get through the list nice and quickly. Which means I can get home and walk the dog in daylight!'
'Lauren mentioned you've got a dog. I'm babysitting my mother's---I'll have to look out for you on the beach.'
'Maybe we can meet up and sniff tails!' he said with a laugh, and stood up. 'Right, I have to get on, I have calls to make and then I need to amuse myself until afternoon surgery. I gather my fiancée is going to see you at one.'
'Yes. Sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt your lunchtime routine---'
'Sans fait rien, it's not a problem. You go and let her torture you, and I'll wander into town and find us a sandwich from the shop when I've finished my calls. Tell her I'll see her later.'
He went out, and Sam carried on with his clinic, surprised at how easily it all came back to him. And how much he was enjoying it, although it was all a little cosy and he had no doubt at all that after a few weeks it would drive him absolutely mad.
His last patient had just left when Hazel buzzed through. 'Sam, I've got a gentleman here who needs to be seen this morning, and you're the only doctor left in the surgery. Would you mind awfully taking a look at him?'
'Of course not,' he agreed, sighed quietly and wondering if he'd find time for lunch before he saw Lauren. Breakfast seemed to have passed him by and he was getting very hungry. Maybe there'd be a biscuit or two left in the staffroom.
There was a tap on the door, and a man in late middle age came in and sat down.
'Hello, Sam.'
He frowned. There was a not-too-distant memory of some washing tied to the top of a tree, and he gave an inward groan. 'Mr Reynolds.'
'I see you haven't forgotten me, then?'
'Indeed not. Apparently it's mutual.' He gave a slight smile, and Mr Reynolds smiled back.
'I didn't expect to see you back here. I'm sorry about your mother.'
'Thank you,' he said for what must have been the hundredth time since he'd come back. 'So what can I do for you today, Mr Reynolds?'
'It's my angina. I just can't seem to get on top of it today, and I've been puffing away on the old GTN and---well, I don't know, it doesn't seem to be making any difference.'
'Just slip your jacket off, let's check your blood pressure,' Sam said. 'Have you been overdoing it?'
'I did a bit of gardening this morning, but I don't know if it was a good idea.'
'Well, your blood pressure's a little high, and I can see you're on medication for it, and you're on a statin. Can you describe your symptoms?' he asked as he took off the cuff and made a note of the reading. And what he heard, he didn't like at all.
'OK, I think just to be on the safe side I'm going to give you a little aspirin---you don't have asthma, do you? No? OK, just chew this up and we'll get a nurse to run an ECG on you---no, stay there, don't get up. I'll go and find someone. I just want to make sure nothing's going on.'
He left the door open and asked Hazel if there was a nurse free, just as Gemma came downstairs. 'Do you want something done?' she asked, and he nodded.
'Please. An ECG for Mr Reynolds. His angina's bothering him.'
He lifted a brow, and Gemma nodded her understanding of the urgency. 'I'll get the ECG machine. His angina's a bit unstable.'
She came into his room wheeling the machine a few moments later, just as Sam had settled Mr Reynolds on the couch.
'Hello, Ron, what've you been up to? I bet you've been gardening, haven't you?' she asked, peeling the backing off the electrodes and sticking them on Mr Reynolds's hairy chest.
'How did you guess?'
She smiled, and Sam's heart turned over. No wonder Mr Reynolds's angina was unstable! 'Ah, well, a little bird told me the family were coming for the weekend. I hope you're all coming to the barbeque tomorrow.'
'Wouldn't miss it, Gemma. Never have.'
'Excellent. Right, just lie still while I run the printout, and while I've got you there, I'm going to give you a little lecture about your diet, because I can see from your tummy that you've been down to the chippy a few times too many, haven't you?'
'Nothing gets by you, does it?' he said with a little smile, and Gemma chuckled.
'Not much, not in this village. And anyway, I saw you and Doreen sitting on the harbour wall eating them last Saturday. So it'll be low-fat sausages for you at the barbeque tomorrow. I'll get Dr Tremayne to buy some specially.'
But just then the ECG trace began to flutter, and he pressed his hand to his chest and groaned.
'Well, that'll save worrying about the low-fat sausages,' Sam murmured in her ear, and she stepped aside, raising the backrest as Sam took over and sat their patient up to ease the load on his heart. 'I think you might be having a little heart attack, Ron, so I'm going to send you off to St Piran's to get checked out.'
'Are you sure? You do know what you're doing, don't you?' he said with a wry grin. 'Only I wouldn't have wanted you to miss the lecture on heart attacks---Aaah!'
'Just sit back and try to relax, and I'll give you some painkillers. That should make it a bit easier. Gemma, could you ask Hazel to call the ambulance and his wife and then draw me up some diamorphine---ten milligrams, I think. Thank you. And you just lie there and thank your lucky stars I attended that lecture, Ron, and don't you worry about a thing. It's all under control.'
And less than fifteen minutes later he was off to hospital, and Sam left Gemma tidying up the ECG machine.
'Right, I'm sorry, I'll have to leave you to it, I'm supposed to be seeing Lauren at one and I'm already late,' he said, and with a resigned sigh Sam crossed the wide corridor and tapped on Lauren's door.
It opened instantly, and she came out with a smile. 'Hi, Sam. Come on in.'
He shut the door, then hesitated. Did he strip off to his boxers, or wait for her to take a history? 'I'm sorry I'm late, I got held up with a patient.'
'Don't worry. Just peel your things off behind the screen and I'll take a history as we go along. Maybe I'd better have a look at all your injuries today, and we can sort out a treatment plan.'
'Well, good luck with that,' he said with a dry chuckle, and dropped into the chair behind the screen while he took off his shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt. He really, really didn't want to do this, but if he ignored the problem it would get worse, and he couldn't expect to make progress if he neglected his physio. No gain without pain and all that, but he'd frankly had it with the pain and it was growing old very quickly.
'OK, let's go through this from the top because we've got no notes on you, of course. So---what exactly happened?'
'Oh, no.'
She picked up the specs off the desk and hefted them in her hand. Sam was bound to be going in to visit his mother later, and he'd just popped in for a chat with Lauren, presumably about another patient. She'd give them to him, he'd be able to take them to Mr Reynolds.
And then she'd go for a walk along the harbour, maybe pick something up to eat on the way. Anything rather than sitting around in the staffroom and waiting for Sam to come in, and as long as they were both in the building, she'd be on edge.
She tapped on Lauren's door and stuck her head round without waiting for a reply, knowing that Lauren was free because Gabriel was out and her patients had all gone, but to her horror she wasn't free. Not free at all, and the patient lying propped up her couch, wearing nothing but snug jersey boxers, was Sam.
'Well, come in,' he said drily, and she felt hot colour scorch her cheeks.
'I'm sorry, I didn't realize...' She trailed off, her eyes taking in the still-purple scars that slashed across his chest and shoulder, then sucked in a breath as she saw his leg. The skin must have been torn as he'd slid along the ground, because the outside of his left thigh was a mess. He'd had skin grafts, but they could never cover it completely, she knew that. It would always leave a nasty, disfiguring scar. And lower down, on his shin, were the marks of an external fixator, and on the outside of his ankle further evidence of surgery.
Dear God. He must have been through hell---was still going through it, if the faint sheen of sweat on his skin was anything to go by, and Lauren was standing there holding his foot in her hand and quietly waiting for Gemma to free herself from her trance and either say her piece or leave.
'Sorry, I'll---I just wanted to give you these. Mr Reynolds's specs. I thought you could drop them into him at the hospital while you're visiting Linda,' she croaked, and, dumping them on the desk, she fled out of the room and ran out of the building, all thoughts of lunch forgotten, driven out by the image burned on her mind---the image of Sam, so severely wounded yet so dismissive of his injuries that she'd had no idea they had been so bad, or that he must have come so very, very close to death...
She crossed the road and sat on the harbour wall, her shaking arms wrapped round her waist as she stared out over the muddy harbour where the fishing boats were stranded by the low tide, and tried to see something other than that image of his broken, damaged body on Lauren's couch.
And all the time she'd been staring at him, she realised, he'd been smiling a wry, bitter, twisted little smile that tore her heart in two.
Something wet landed on her arm, and she looked down. Another drop landed, and this time she'd felt it sliding down her cheek.
Stupid. So, so stupid. He didn't want to know her. He'd promised to keep out of her way, had said he wanted to keep their relationship quiet. He sure as hell didn't want her tears.
But still they fell, as fast as she could swipe them away, and in the end she got off the wall and ran down beyond the lifeboat station to the rocks on the headland and sat hugging her knees until the shock had receded and she felt she'd regained her composure enough to go back to the surgery and face him.
Then, and only then, did she stand up and turn round---and saw Sam, just a few feet away, perched on a rock and watching her with guarded eyes.
'I'm so sorry I barged in,' she began, but he just arched a brow.
'You need to learn to wait when you knock.'
'I know. Believe me, I wish I had.'
'What---too shocking for you, was it? A little bit too real?'
She felt sick. 'Sam, don't be horrible. You know it's not that.'
'Do I? I'm not sure what I know any more. And why the hell are you so upset? You walked away, Gemma. You didn't want me then---so what's changed enough now to make you cry?'
Nothing. Nothing had changed. She'd always loved him---always wanted him, always missed him. And that was why she'd left him, why she'd gone away and done what she'd had to do alone, so that if the worst came to the worst, he could move on with his life without her.
Except he hadn't, apparently. Like her, he'd been in limbo. And like her, he'd almost died.
She held his eyes. 'Nothing's changed, Sam. It was just the shock---I didn't realise you'd been so badly injured. The other night, you gave me no idea it had been so bad.'
He shrugged. 'It was just one of those things. You get on with it, don't you? I mean, you can't change it, so what's the point of bleating about it?'
He walked slowly up to her, moving carefully over the rocks, and lifting his right hand he brushed away the tears that still stained her cheeks. Apart from the one tear the other night in the Smugglers', he'd only ever seen her cry right at the end, when her parents had found out they were married and had said terrible, cruel things to her. And he hated to see her like this.
'Don't cry for me,' he said gruffly. 'I'm all right, Gemma. It's over now, there's no need to cry. I don't need your pity, I'm fine.'
But the tears were still leaking slowly from her eyes, welling up and sliding down her cheeks, glistening in the sunshine, and he couldn't help himself. He tried to stop, tried to hold himself back, but somehow his lips were there, on her cheek, kissing away the tears.
And then not just the tears. His mouth found hers, just lightly brushing it, their breath mingling as they took tiny, shallow gasps of air, little shuddering breaths as they slowly, tenderly explored the soft flesh they'd both ached for for so long.
But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough, and when a tiny, frantic little whimper escaped her, it was too much for him. With a ragged groan he threaded his fingers through her hair and took her mouth in a kiss so wild, so needy, so desperate that when he lifted his head long moments later it was like tearing away part of his soul.
'Sam?'
Her voice was trembling, her body quivering against him, and he forced himself to take a step back, to distance himself from the one person in the world who could still hurt him.
'No, Gemma. I'm not going there again. I can't.'
'I didn't ask you to.'
'But I want to,' he said, the words dragged from him. 'How can I want to? You walked away from me---you just walked away---why?'
She felt pain close like a fist around her heart, wishing she could tell him the truth but not really knowing how, not now, after all this time. 'We were kids, Sam. It was a long time ago. And maybe it was wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have gone, but at the time I felt I had no choice. My life was---it was going in a direction I hadn't planned, and I didn't know what to do. And I made a mistake.'
'So---what are you saying, Gemma? You want to try again?'
'No. Yes. I don't know,' she said tearfully, not wanting it to be like this, so very different from what she might have planned. 'I really don't know what I want, and I certainly don't know you, not now. Maybe I never did. Maybe you never knew me. Maybe we need to find out who we are now, what we're looking for---because we haven't moved on, either of us, have we? Not really.'
He stared at her, his eyes shielded again, although she could see the emotions on his face from the set of his lips and the slight flicker of a muscle in his jaw.
'I don't know,' he said at last, his voice taut. 'I'm not sure I can do this. I don't want to talk about it, and I haven't got time for it. I've got other priorities now. I've got to go and do a surgery, and then I have to take Jamie to see my mother. He still hasn't been.'
'Maybe he's frightened she'll die? Or that she'll lean on him, and he's afraid he can't cope? Sound familiar, Sam?'
His laugh was bitter. 'Yeah, but she won't lean on him. She'll lean on me, like she's always done, because that's my job, isn't it? I'm the man of the house, the head of the family. And I don't need it any more than I need this all raking up again. So forgive me if I don't feel like exploring my emotions with you to see if you made a mistake or if you really did mean it when you walked out on us. I've got enough on my plate. You made your bed, Gemma. Go and lie in it.'
And turning on his heel, he walked away and left her there, her slender hope for their future happiness in tatters.
'Mummy! Mummy, can we have Matt to stay tonight? Please please please!'
Kate smiled ruefully down at her son, hanging on her arm and begging, while those dark brown eyes so very like his father's implored her to say yes. 'Darling, we can't tonight, I'm sorry, because I've got the barbeque to set up in the morning with Uncle Nick, but maybe tomorrow night?'
'Could I offer to have Jem instead?'
She looked up into the man's kind, straightforward face and wondered about him. He was a teacher at the senior school, a widower, apparently, and his son Matthew Werrick was one of Jem's friends, but so far she'd never really had anything to do with him.
He held out his hand. 'We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Rob.'
She smiled and took his hand, warm, firm and uncomplicated. She had a feeling it matched its owner. 'I'm Kate. It's nice to meet you---and I'm sorry about Jem. He's been asking for ages about Matthew coming to stay, but tonight's really not good. Maybe another time.'
'I can have them tonight. I'm more than happy to.'
'Oh, we wouldn't dream of imposing, Rob.'
'It's not an imposition at all. Actually it would be fun. The weekends can get a bit long, can't they?'
Oh, yes. And the children were begging. Yet still she hesitated, and his mouth curved into an understanding smile.
'Don't worry about it, Kate. You don't know me. That's reasonable, but perhaps instead of the night, why don't you drop him off in the morning on your way to the barbeque, and I can bring them both down later and meet you there? We were planning on coming, anyway. Would that be better?'
'Oh, Mummy, I want to go to Matthew's for the night! Please, please!'
'Jeremiah, don't, that's rude,' she chided, but Matthew was pleading with his father, and Rob gave her a 'suit yourself' shrug and a smile, and she gave in.
'If you really don't mind, I'm quite happy for him to stay with you. And it's nothing to do with not knowing you, it's more that I have problems returning favours because of work.'
'Well, I don't think we need to worry about that, do we?' he said with an understanding and good-humoured smile. 'I'm more than happy to have Matthew's friends over. So---do you want to collect his things and drop him round to me? Or come with him at six and I'll feed you both. Rumour has it I can manage to hurl together a half decent Bolognese sauce---so if you'd like...?'
Actually, yes, she realised suddenly, she would like. She'd spent the last thirty years waiting for Nick to notice her, and the only time he had, it had been devastating. She hadn't been on a date since she'd started going out with James, and it was nearly eleven years since he'd died. And apart from James, there had only been that one time with Nick, on the night of the storm, the night James had died...
So, yes, she would like. And although it was only a simple supper invitation, for Kate it was a quantum leap. So drawing in a breath, she smiled at Rob and threw herself into the void.
'I'M NOT coming.'
Sam propped himself up against the worktop and folded his arms. 'Why are you scared, Jamie? Is it because you don't know what to expect?'
'I'm not scared.'
Sam sighed. 'Of course you are. Your mother's had a stroke, and people die of them. Every day. So, sure you're scared. It's only reasonable. Dammit, I'm scared.' Scared he'd end up trapped here, scared he'd never get away again and he'd be stuck with Gemma in the same town, bumping into each other and driving him insane with wanting.
'Is she going to die?'
'Well, of course she is, we all are, but not now. At least, I don't believe so, anyway. They think she's got an underlying heart condition---nothing serious, just an irregular beat that could cause her blood to clot, and if that's the case, she'll have anticoagulant drugs to slow her clotting and antiarrhythmics to make her heart beat evenly.'
'What, to go with the blood-pressure drugs and the anti-depressants?' he said lightly, but Sam could tell there was real fear there lurking underneath his flip remark, and he wished he knew him well enough, wished he was close enough to his brother to pull him into his arms and hug him.
Wished there'd been anyone there to do it to him, when his father had walked out and left him---literally---holding the baby.
But there hadn't, and Jamie wouldn't let him anyway, so instead he opened the fridge, poured two glasses of juice and pushed one towards Jamie across the kitchen table. 'She'll be all right, Jamie. She's already so much better.'
'It's my fault.'
'No, of course it's not your fault. It's her fault. She's never looked after herself properly.'
'No. It's my fault. We had a row. I got really angry with her, and we were yelling, and I went out. And I didn't come back until after midnight. And if Gemma hadn't found her...'
'She would have died?' he said softly. 'Maybe. But that's not your fault. Lots of people have rows. It doesn't kill them.'
'It nearly killed Mum.'
'No. The stroke nearly killed her. You didn't. And she misses you. I think she wants to make up.'
'Did she say so?'
He shook his head. 'No. But she's very keen to see you.'
Jamie sat there for a moment, then drained the glass and stood up. 'So what are we waiting for?' he asked, and headed for the door.
'Hi, Mum.'
'Jamie! You came!' his mother said, and, holding out her arms, she wrapped her youngest son against her heart, and Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away.
And there, catching him with his emotional trousers down, was Gemma, carrying a vase of flowers. 'Hi. You got him here, then,' she said softly, and he nodded.
'Yeah. Thanks.'
'Thanks?'
'It was what you said, about him being scared. They'd had a row and he thought it was all his fault. Look, are you done here? I was thinking---maybe we could go and get a coffee?'
'So you can salve your conscience about being nasty to me at lunchtime?' she said, her eyes reproachful. 'I don't think so, Sam. And, yes, I am done,' she added pointedly. 'I'm going home---to lie in my bed.'
She put the flowers down on the locker and dropped a kiss on Linda's cheek. 'You take care, and I'll see you when you get home. Bye, Jamie. Nice to see you again.'
And she walked out of the ward, her back straight and her head held high.
His words echoed back at him, and he felt a wash of guilt. Damn. He gave his mother what had to be an awkward smile. 'I'm just going to go and get a coffee. I'll leave you two alone for a minute, you've got a lot of catching up to do and I missed lunch. I won't be long.'
She smiled knowingly, and Jamie just grinned, and he ground his teeth and followed Gemma out.
'Gemma? Please, wait.'
She stopped and waited, but her face was expressionless. 'What?'
'Just---I'm sorry. I didn't---Look, this isn't easy.'
'Tell me about it,' she muttered.
'Please. Come and have a coffee with me. Give me a chance to apologise.'
She looked up into his eyes, saw the signs of strain around them, and because she loved him---had always loved him, ever since the first time she'd seen him walking on the beach twelve years ago, a boy on the brink of manhood---she nodded. 'OK. But you're buying.'
They found a canteen that was open, and he ordered two lattes, picked a couple of sandwiches out of the fridge at random and paid for them, then followed Gemma to a table.
'Tuna and cucumber or roast beef and horseradish?'
'Chicken salad,' she said, taking the tuna, and smiled, and saw the tension drain out of him.
'They're going to give me hell for this. Mum gave me such a knowing look, and Jamie was grinning. I should have let you get further ahead before I came out after you,' he grumbled, struggling to open the other packet of sandwiches.
She watched discreetly, noting that he was obviously finding his finger and thumb uncooperative and the lack of feedback was hampering him. She concentrated on unwrapping her own sandwich and munching into it, and after a moment he succeeded, and she was able to relax.
'Your mother seems quite keen to get us back together again,' she said conversationally, and he stopped, his sandwich halfway to his open mouth.
'What's she said now?'
She shrugged. 'Just asked how things were going at work. I didn't tell her.'
He felt his neck heat. 'That was---I was just---'
'Defensive? I'm a nurse, Sam. I've seen worse.'
But not on him, and it had shocked her much more than she would have believed possible. She took another bite of her sandwich to give her mouth something to do, but even so the silence stretched out until Sam broke it, his voice taut and strangely impassive.
'She kept telling me that you asked after me. In her letters. Why did you do that?'
Because I love you? Because I needed to know---anything, any scrap of information, anything to keep my love alive...
'Well, I have to talk about something during a consultation,' she said lightly, 'and you're as good a topic as any.'
And the only one of any interest to her, but he didn't have to know that.
'So it wasn't that you wanted to know?'
Oh, lord, she couldn't do this. She put her sandwich down and met his eyes. 'Sam, of course I wanted to know how you were doing,' she said, giving up the pretence. 'It's not as if I hate you.'
'But you don't love me. You didn't---not enough to stay.'
Or too much...
'Sam, we were so young.'
'I loved you,' he said roughly, throwing down his sandwich and leaning forwards, his eyes glittering. 'I really, really loved you, Gemma---and you just walked away. And you didn't even tell me to my face. That was the thing that hurt most---that you couldn't even talk to me. After all we'd shared---'
He broke off, sat back and shook his head.
'This was a lousy idea. I can't do it, Gemma. I'm sorry. It would be too easy to let myself get sucked back in, but I've been hurt too damned much by you, and I'm not letting it happen again.'
And without another glance at her, he got to his feet and walked away from her, leaving her in a litter of unwanted sandwiches and half-finished coffee and broken promises.
The barbeque was in full swing when he walked down there the following afternoon, and the first person to greet him was Lucy.
'Sam? Oh, Sam, it's so good to see you!' she cried. Handing a tiny baby over to the man at her side, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. Then she let him go, stood back and stared at him, laughing and shaking her head in disbelief.
'Goodness, you have got so damned good-looking! I can just hear the clatter of the locks with everyone shutting their daughters up! Come, I want you to meet Ben and the children.'
And she dragged him over to the man he assumed was Ben, and took the baby back out of his arms. 'This is Ben Carter, my husband, and the little tyke round his neck is Annabel, and this is Josh. Guys, this is Sam Cavendish. He taught me how to light fires and climb trees and---'
'I'm not sure I want to know what he taught you,' Ben said with a dry chuckle, but his handshake was friendly enough and Sam could see the bone-deep confidence in their relationship that shone from both of them.
And he envied it. God, how he envied it. To have a love that profound and know it was returned...
'Gemma's here,' Lucy said softly, her eyes concerned.
'I know.' Of course he knew. His radar had clocked her the moment he walked into the surgery car park which turned annually into the site for the Penhally Bay Independent Lifeboat Association fundraiser. She would be here, he'd known that. Maybe in a perverse way it was even why he'd come, unable to stay away. Even after yesterday, after all that had been said, after two failed attempts at building bridges, he couldn't stay away.
But Lucy was one of the few people in Penhally who knew the whole story, and he knew he could rely on her to keep her thoughts to herself.
'Dad tells me you're working at the practice. That must make things a bit interesting,' she murmured.
'It's fine,' he said, trying not to think about just how fine it wasn't.
'That's what Dad said, but I didn't believe him, any more than I believe you. So---how's your mother? That was a bit of a shocker.'
'She's OK. She's coming home on Tuesday.'
'Oh. Right. Will you be OK to work?'
'Yes. I have to be, I can't sit and look at her all day, and anyway she's made fantastic progress. The new specialist stroke unit's brilliant. And if she needs it, she'll have physio and occupational therapy and maybe even someone from the community psychiatric team to make sure she's coping with the changes in her life. And she'll need to rest and get her confidence back slowly, and I'm only going to be working part time.'
Ben laughed at that. 'That's what Lucy said---but somehow, if you aren't careful, the part time grows. There's the odd clinic here and the occasional surgery there, and before you know where you are the only thing missing is the on-call.'
'Well, it's all a change from working all day and being on call all night seven days a week in a shanty town or some isolated clinic in the bush. And having drugs on tap is a revelation, as is being able to drive down the road without wondering if you're about to be ambushed or blown up.'
A frown crossed Lucy's face. 'Yes, Dad mentioned that. How are you now?'
He smiled. 'I'm fine,' he said, his stock reply, and really, he supposed, he was, if you didn't count the scars and the horrified look on Gemma's face. And he was enjoying being back at work, just as he was enjoying seeing Lucy again, and meeting her husband and her babies, and being there at the barbeque. Tame and bucolic and very, very English, he thought drily, but somehow safe.
And if it wasn't for Gemma threatening his peace of mind, he might almost be tempted...
Nick turned the sausages on the barbeque while he smiled mechanically at the busy throng and wondered if Kate was right about Sam and Gemma. They'd been avoiding each other---not hard, in the crowd, but it seemed odd that Gemma hadn't gone up to Lucy and said hello, and he wondered if that was because Sam was there talking to Ben and cuddling the baby. And ignoring Gemma, in turn?
Possibly. Frankly, he had no idea, and he wondered if that should worry him. Was he really so blind to people's emotions as Kate implied?
Or was it just that his own life was so filled with pain that he'd shut himself down?
Take the business of Jeremiah---
'Mummy, we're here! Hi, Uncle Nick. We're starving. Can Matt and me have a burger please, Mum?'
'I should think so, love,' Kate said, smiling indulgently at him across the barbeque while Nick stood poised with the tongs and stared at the boy who was his son, and then she lifted her eyes and smiled at the man with the children. Robert Werrick, Nick realised, and felt a prickle of something that felt uncomfortably like---jealousy?
Ridiculous! Of course it wasn't! But her greeting to Werrick then made it obvious that the boys had spent the night at his house and been with him for the day, and he suddenly wondered if---
No. Of course she wasn't seeing him! And, anyway, it was none of his business if she was. But it didn't stop it feeling just a little bit odd, and not altogether pleasant...
Gemma spent the rest of the bank holiday weekend blitzing her house.
Her parents had bought Seagull Cottage with the express intention of having somewhere convenient, easy to maintain and with a lovely setting, and all of those things made it ideal for Gemma, so when she'd moved back, she'd persuaded her parents to let her rent it from them.
And it had been perfect.
The garden was just a paved area with pots standing around on it and enough room for a little table and chairs, and because of the mild climate many of the things in the pots over-wintered, so it was just a case of tidying up from time to time. No grass, no hedges, no weeding---but that weekend, frankly, she could have done with all of them, just to keep her a little bit busier and take her mind off Sam.
She would have gone to St Piran's and visited Linda, but she knew Sam's sisters would be there over the weekend and, besides, so would he. There would be plenty of time to visit her once she was home, and she could choose a time when Sam was out. So with nothing better to do and the garden tidied within an inch of its life, she spring-cleaned the house.
Completely.
She turned out her bedroom, changed the sheets, wiped down the woodwork, polished the furniture---she even wiped the bulbs in the light fittings---and then she did the same to the other two rooms and the bathroom before moving downstairs and blitzing the living area.
She even cleaned out the fridge, her least favourite job in the world, and by the end of Monday the washing was done, there was a pile of ironing she could scarcely see over and she was exhausted.
So exhausted that when she went into work on Tuesday morning, having girded her loins for bumping into Sam, she'd completely forgotten that Linda was being discharged and he wouldn't be in.
And the disappointment was extraordinary.
Oh, well. She threw herself into her work---mostly baby inoculations with some travel vaccinations for people planning their summer breaks, and then she went upstairs to the staffroom to make herself a drink and found Lauren there.
Damn.
'Hi, there. Can I make you another drink?' she asked cheerfully, but Lauren wasn't fooled. Not that she said anything, just shook her head and asked how Linda was, but the jump from Gemma's 'Do you want a drink' to Lauren's 'How's Linda' was pretty darned remote---unless your mind was already there, Gemma thought with resignation.
'She's fine, I think. Doing really well, but you can tell me more once you've treated her. I take it you're going to be doing her physio?'
'I expect so. Are you going to hand her over to Rebecca for her continuing care, or are you going to pop in on your way home so you can give her more continuity?'
And see Sam. 'I'll see how she is, I think,' Gemma said, trying hard to sound casual. 'If she's relatively stable, there won't be much to do apart from regular INR checks for her anticoagulants, so Sam could take the bloods and bring them in. In fact, he could do all of it. He's only here part time.'
'So you don't have to go there?' Lauren said softly, and Gemma looked up swiftly and met her concerned eyes, teabag poised on the spoon, and then she turned back and threw the teabag in the bin, put milk in her tea and sat down.
'Why wouldn't I want to go there?' she asked, and Lauren sighed gently.
'OK, you don't have to tell me, but if you need someone to talk to---I know Sam had a thing for you all those years ago.'
'A thing?' she said, trying to sound puzzled, but Lauren wasn't stupid and she gave her friend a patient look.
'The girls in his year were gutted, so it was hardly a secret, Gemma. And I saw your face on Friday. You were devastated when you saw his injuries, and if you ask me he was pretty devastated that you'd seen them. He wasn't going to come after you, but then he asked my advice.'
'And you told him to follow me?'
'No. I told him to follow his heart. And then I was upstairs getting something from the treatment room and I saw him kiss you.'
'That would have been right before he told me I'd made my bed and I should lie on it,' she said with a trace of bitterness, and Lauren sucked in her breath and reached out a hand.
'Gemma, I'm so sorry. It must be so difficult for you, working with him. Why on earth did he agree?'
She shrugged. 'I have no idea. Because Nick's very persuasive? Because he genuinely thought it would be all right?'
'Or because he thought it would give you a chance to get to know each other again in a way that gives you both an opportunity to retreat without loss of face?'
She thought about that for a moment, but it didn't seem to feel right. 'I don't think so. I don't think it was that premeditated. And he didn't look any more pleased than I felt, to be honest, so, no, I don't think it was that, but I can't for the life of me work out why---especially as Linda's making such amazing progress. By Friday night, you'd hardly know she'd had a stroke on Tuesday. It's incredible.'
'I know. I've seen other people who've been treated there, and it's fantastic what that rapid intervention with clot-busters does,' Lauren agreed, and to Gemma's relief the subject moved away from Linda---and, more specifically, from her elder son.
But only for now. She knew perfectly well that Lauren would be watching, and because she'd be treating Sam, too, and because patients having physical therapy often talked quite revealingly to their therapist, Lauren would probably hear more than Gemma wanted her to.
But it would be safe with her. Her friend wasn't a gossip and, apart from her professionalism, she was the soul of kindness. She'd look after Sam, support and encourage him, and give him the help he needed to get his life back on track.
And if that meant that in the end he left Penhally again to return to Africa, Gemma would just have to accept it...
'JAMIE! Get up! You've got to be at school in twenty minutes, and I need to get Mum up and dressed before I go to work in half an hour, so I haven't got time to drive you!'
'For God's sake, bro, chill! I'll be fine.'
'No, you'll be late,' Sam said, stripping off the quilt and hoisting Jamie out of bed one-handed. 'Now get washed and dressed and get to school before you get suspended.'
'I should be so lucky,' he mumbled, but Sam wasn't going to pick that one up in this lifetime, so he went downstairs and found his mother tangled in her bra.
'Oh, Mum, let me help you with that,' he said gently, and sorted her out, getting the straps in the right place and then hugging her as the tears of frustration filled her eyes. 'Come on, you're doing so well.'
'It's just all so unnecessary! If only it hadn't happened...'
'I know. But it did, and luckily Gemma was here.'
She put a hand on his arm. 'Sam, don't hurt her.'
He stared at his mother in astonishment. 'Me, hurt Gemma? Mum, she walked out on me!'
'But she loves you, Sam. It's so obvious.'
'Not to me, it isn't.'
'Well, then, you're blind, and you probably don't deserve her. Come on, help me into that top and then you'd better go or you'll be late for work.'
He waited until she was settled in her favourite chair opposite the window with a view over the harbour, and then he paused.
'Are you sure you'll be all right?' he asked, still torn about leaving her, but she just smiled sadly.
'I'll have to be, Sam---and you're not exactly far away. And I've got the phone and all I have to do is press 1 and I'll get the surgery, so I'll be fine, and I've got Digger for company. Go on---and take Jamie to school or he'll be bunking off again.'
'For heaven's sake, he should just---'
'Please, Sam. He's in enough trouble.'
'OK, I'll take him. There are drinks in the fridge, and I'll leave the back door unlocked so Lauren can get in. And don't boil the kettle!'
'No, darling,' she said with a long-suffering smile, and he kissed her cheek, grabbed his keys, yelled for Jamie and started the car.
'Linda?'
'Gemma? Hello, sweetheart. How kind of you to drop in.'
'Not at all, it's always a pleasure to see you. I'm parched. Do you fancy a cup of tea?'
'Oh, I'd love one! Sam won't let me near the kettle at the moment, and I know fruit juice and water are good for you, but, oh, I do miss my tea!'
'You'll be telling me in a minute that he's hidden all your chocolate,' Gemma teased, and Linda rolled her eyes.
'Don't. Don't even go there. He rations it. I don't know where he keeps it, but I'm allowed one square a day, apparently. Too much saturated fat. And it has to be the dark stuff, like you said, or he won't let me have it at all. He's a tyrant.'
'But you love him.'
'And I'm not alone, am I?' she said softly, and Gemma nearly dropped the teapot.
'Linda, really---I don't think---'
'Don't panic. He doesn't see it, but if he'd only give you both a chance...'
'Linda, he doesn't like me.'
'Sam? Of course he likes you. He's just wary. Now, I don't know what went on between you two, and it's not my business, but he hasn't been the same since you left. He's like he was after his father went---defiant and defensive, but I thought he'd get over it---get over you, but he doesn't seem to have done. So---don't give up, Gemma. Please, don't give up. Not without trying.'
'Don't give up what?'
'Sam!'
This time she did drop the pot. It slipped through her fingers and hit the worktop, and only Sam's hand flying out to steady it prevented an accident.
'Guilty conscience?' he murmured, and she turned and glared at him.
'Not at all! You frightened the life out of me, sneaking up behind me like that!'
'Sneaking? It's my house! I'm allowed to walk in---and I didn't sneak. I'm just not noisy.'
'I didn't hear your car.'
'That's because I could see yours here, so I left it at work and walked home in case there wasn't room on the drive. I'll go and pick it up later---take the dog out for a run. So is there tea in that pot, or are you just posing for effect?'
She nearly threw it at him.
'Ron Reynolds is home.'
Sam was lounging in the doorway to her room the following afternoon, and Gemma looked up from her notes.
'Is he? Good. How's he doing?'
'OK. It was an MI, so he's another one on anticoagulants for your INR checks. They've done a balloon angioplasty apparently and he's much improved. He'll need checking on, but he should be all right to come here to your clinic.'
'Well, if not I'll ask Rebecca to do it. So how come he knew you? Because it sounds as though he did, quite well.'
Sam's face was wry. 'Oh, he did. He lived quite near us, and I guess he had quite a lot to put up with. I took their washing off the line one night and hung it in the top of the fir tree in the front garden. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for his daughter's underwear. She was a bit of a goer, Amy Reynolds, and her underwear was a legend.'
Gemma laughed. 'And were you familiar with the underwear before this occasion?'
He chuckled. 'Sadly not---well, only from the washing line. We could see it from the top of the tree in the Tremaynes' back garden next door. Jack, Ed and I used to go up there and try and spy on her through her bedroom window.'
'Sam!'
'What? We were about fourteen! We were just kids, Gemma. We didn't know anything about sex then, really. It was just a bit of harmless fun.'
'You weren't so harmless when you were nineteen,' she said rashly, and then could have bitten her tongue as he went still.
'No. But that was different, Gemz. You were my wife.'
Gemz. He'd only ever called her that when they were alone. She looked away, her mind flooded with memories. Intimate memories, of the time they'd spent together. His touch, his soft, coaxing voice, his gentleness---his passion, finally unleashed and exquisitely shocking in its awesome power to thrill her. She swallowed hard. 'Sam, I---'
'It's all right,' he said softly. 'It's in the past, Gemma. Let's just leave it there. I have to get on. I'll see you.'
And shrugging away from the doorpost, he crossed the landing and went down the stairs, and she listened to his limp and wanted to cry for everything they'd lost and the fact that there just didn't seem to be any way back.
Damn.
He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think about anything other than Gemma, about how she'd felt in his arms, how much fun they'd had, the laughter they'd shared, and how it had felt to hold her long into the night, just talking about anything and everything.
He couldn't remember anything they'd not been able to talk about, and yet now---now every conversation seemed to lead back to them, and the fact that they'd split up, and it was like a minefield. And he knew, from bitter personal experience, just how dangerous they could be.
But he couldn't stay away from her, couldn't ignore her. Couldn't, despite his best efforts, manage to keep away. And at the bottom of his heart, hidden low down behind all the disillusion and pain, was a gut feeling that there was something going on, something he hadn't known about---something she was keeping from him. So maybe she was right. Maybe what they needed to do was try again, see if they could make a go of it this time---and maybe now she'd trust him enough to share whatever it was that had taken her away from him.
No. He felt himself recoiling from the idea, curiously unwilling to disturb the status quo, the unstable truce they seemed to have established. Perhaps to try and pick up their relationship where they'd left off was too much, too soon---but what if they wound the clock back further, maybe, to when they'd met? Pretended they'd just met now, that they were strangers and they were attracted to each other and they were just starting out?
Would it work? Give them a chance to get to know the people they were now, and see if there was any way forward from there?
He didn't know, but he was going to give it a damn good try, because his time back in Penhally had proved to him, above all else, that he couldn't live without her. Not live. He could exist, as he'd been existing for the last eleven years. But live? No. Not without his beloved Gemz.
So he'd suggest they start from scratch, as if they'd just met. Strangers. It could be interesting. Fun. And maybe...
All he had to do was talk her into it. Whistling softly, he left his consulting room and ran upstairs and tapped on her door, but it was opened by Lara Mercer, the other practice nurse.
'Ah. Is Gemma here, Lara?'
'No, sorry Sam, she's gone home. She said something about dropping in on your mother on the way, but that was half an hour ago.'
'Right. OK, thanks.'
'Is there a message?'
'No. No message.' At least, not one he'd leave with anyone.
He drove home, wondering if she'd still be there, and she was, so he pulled in behind her---to stop her getting away? Maybe. Then he went inside, calling as he did to avoid the possibility of her accusing him of sneaking up on her.
She was just leaving, picking up her bag and keys, and he wondered if she'd seen his car pull up and decided to get out of his way. He couldn't blame her if she did, because every encounter seemed to peel another layer off their defences.
'Could you move your car for me, Sam?' she asked, not quite looking at him, but he wasn't ready to let her go.
'Can we have a chat first?'
She looked at him, searching his face for clues. 'What about?'
He gave a crooked, slightly uncertain smile that tipped her heart off kilter. 'Oh, this and that. Can we take the dog and go up to the headland? He could do with a little run.'
She hesitated, but then Linda came out into the kitchen and kissed Sam on the cheek. 'Hello, darling. I'm just going to have a lie-down for a few minutes. It's been a long day. Call me when you get back from your walk.'
So there was no excuse she could give him, no way she could suggest that his mother needed him, not while she was sleeping.
She nodded. 'All right,' she agreed, but her heart was pounding and she didn't know what he was going to say. Probably nothing. She was being silly, it was probably about Linda or work or telling her he was going back to Africa.
He picked up the lead and Digger was there, coiled ready for action, and he clipped it on, opened the door and ushered her out.
'Well?' she asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer. They were up on the headland; they'd walked up Harbour Road to the church at the top of the rise with its pretty lychgate, and now they were heading down to the lighthouse on the end of the promontory, above the cliff. And she couldn't bear it any more.
'Can we sit down?' he suggested, and she looked at the grass. It had been sunny all day, it might be dry enough. And they'd often sat on the headland and talked.
'Sure,' she said, and watched as he lowered himself carefully to the ground and stretched his left leg out in front of him, bending the other one up and wrapping his arms around his knee.
'Sam?' she prompted when he still showed no signs of speaking, but even then he didn't say anything or look at her, just stared out over the sea while Digger sniffed around his feet and finally lay down. And, like the dog, she resigned herself to waiting patiently until he was ready.
'I was wondering,' he began at last. 'We can't turn the clock back, it just doesn't work. We can't pick up where we left off, not really, and as you said, we were just kids then. We're adults now, different people. Different things have happened to us, to shape us, strengthen us---change us. And you're right, we don't know each other. So why don't we start again? Right from the very beginning, back before we ever met, as if we don't know each other, have no history, nothing to beat each other to death with. Just two people, with common career interests, getting to know each other.'
She stared at him, because of all the things she'd expected him to come out with, that wasn't one of them. And odd though it sounded, maybe it could work.
She felt a glimmer of excitement, a flicker of hope. She moistened her lips, took a deep breath and started.
'OK. So---I'm Gemma. I'm a nurse, as you know, and I work in the surgery here, as you know, and I'm twenty-nine, and I'm sort of single---well---am I?' she asked, and he turned his head and smiled a little wryly.
'Yes,' he murmured, his voice low and slightly gruff. 'Yes, you are.'
'OK,' she said, suddenly feeling a little less confident because she hadn't ever thought of herself as single in all this time, more as---a wife on ice? 'So, I'm single, and I like children and animals, and daytime TV when I get a chance, and I read crime fiction and biographies, and I like swimming in the sea but I can't surf to save my life, and I love walking on the moors. How about you?'
He gave her a funny little smile that made her heart turn over again, and said, 'I'm Sam, I'm thirty, I'm a doctor, and I'm covering for an old childhood friend until her replacement can be found, and I've been working in Africa for an aid agency but I did something stupid and got myself blown up, which is why I walk with a limp and can't feel much in my left hand and why---why I've got some pretty horrible scars.
'And my mother's not very well, but because you did your job and checked on her even though you were off duty she's going to be fine, and I'm really grateful, and I'd like to get to know you better. And I'm single, I suppose, but there was a girl a long time ago who broke my heart, so I'm a little wary.'
That made her eyes fill and her heart twist with anguish, and she bit her lip as he went on, 'I love swimming in the sea, and I used to be able to surf but I'd probably fall over now because of my leg, and I read thrillers and crime fiction and car magazines, and I used to ride a motorbike but I can't any longer, but I still love walking on the moors, even though my ankle's not too keen on it. And I have two younger sisters, both married with children, both living fairly near but not apparently near enough to be of much help to my mother, and I have a younger brother who's off the rails a bit but basically a good kid.'
He smiled again. 'And that's me, really. Any questions?'
She shook her head. 'Not really.' Not that she could ask, anyway. Not under the terms and conditions of this new relationship. 'How about you?'
'Are you an only child?'
'No, I've got an older brother, he's thirty-three and he's married with two children, and he lives in Bristol. He's an architect.'
'Interesting. So---did you always want to be a nurse?'
She gave a strangled little laugh, then shook her head. 'No. I was going to be a doctor, like you, but then...' She faltered. Should she tell him? Explain what had happened, why she'd gone? But, no, they were playing let's pretend, and she wouldn't have told a stranger about it, so she carried on, choosing her words carefully, 'Then something happened, and I met some nurses, and I realised I'd rather do that. I'd met lots of doctors, because my father's a doctor so I've grown up round them, but I'd never really had anything to do with nurses before, and the more I talked to them, the more I thought it was a better direction for me.'
Sam was silent, assimilating her words. There was something missing, some gap in her story---something vital. But he didn't know...'What was it that happened? Was it while you were travelling?'
Oh, rats. Tell him? Or not tell him? She wanted to, but at the same time she didn't, because she was so afraid he'd feel obliged to stand by her, just as she had all those years ago, and she didn't want that. She wanted him for himself, and she wanted him to want her for herself, not feel saddled with her out of duty or a misplaced sense of responsibility.
So she lied---well, no, because it wasn't really a lie, but she was flexible with the truth, and it hurt. 'No, I wasn't travelling at the time, but my circumstances changed and I ended up living amongst nurses.' Well, it was true, in a way. She had, and she'd been there for ages. 'And it changed my conception of them and what they do.'
No. She was still holding something back, still not telling him all of it. But he let it go---for now. He'd get it out of her later, make her tell him everything. For now, he'd let her tell him what she wanted, and he'd try and fill in the blanks.
'So---why practice nurse rather than hospital nurse?'
'For the continuity, really,' she said, relieved to be off the sticky subject of the past and onto something she could talk about with genuine enthusiasm. 'I love the fact that I can watch an entire family grow, from inoculating the babies and giving them advice all through childhood to routine health checks on their parents, and continuing care clinics for the grandparents---like your mother, for example, who comes in regularly for her blood pressure and cholesterol, and Ron Reynolds with his angina, and then there are the children with asthma and the mums who want to give up smoking because they've just found out they're pregnant, and the drop-in contraceptive clinics to keep the youngsters out of trouble and the weight-loss clinics, and the diabetic clinics, and the travel clinics---it's just so varied. Everyone thinks it's just inoculations and smear tests and dressings, but it's not. It's fascinating, and it's all about the people. And it's the people who make the job.'
She looked at him again. 'Does that answer your question?' she asked, and he gave a slight smile.
'Yes, I think it probably does.' For now...
'Can I ask you something now?'
'Sure.'
'Why Africa?'
He looked away, his smile vanishing. 'Why not? God knows, there's a need.'
'But not everybody goes. Why you?'
'Because I was---single? Because nobody was going to be hurt if I was?'
'Except your mother. She was terribly upset.' And me...
He shrugged. 'Accidents can happen to anyone.'
'But that wasn't an accident, Sam. It was a booby trap laid by insurgents.'
'Whatever. I gave the people much more back than was taken from me during the time I was there, and that's what matters. I remember one occasion when I had to contact a colleague in London and ask for advice on a procedure I'd never done before, and the only way to contact him was by mobile phone. We had satellite phones, and he was able to text me instructions. And I saved this kid's life because of that. Without me, without the team, without people going out there and having a go in often impossible conditions, these children and their mothers and fathers would die. And it's the simple things---like appendicitis and not having clean water and not having basic antibiotics and antimalarials that kills them so often. And I was able to make a difference.'
'And you don't think you can make a difference here? What about Ron Reynolds? If you hadn't been there in the surgery when he'd come in, he might have died.'
'No, because Hazel would have got you, and you would have taken one look at him and called an ambulance, and got Nick back from fiddling with the barbeque arrangements and he would have been fine. But there are kids out in Africa now who are dying because I'm not there.'
'Sam, that's nonsense, because if you're there, then there are children dying in India or Indonesia or South America or Birmingham or even Cornwall because you aren't there. You can't save the world. You can only do your bit.'
He turned and searched her face, then his eyes softened in a smile that made her breath catch. 'You know, you're beautiful when you get worked up about something. You come alive inside, and your skin glows and your eyes are bright and---you're just gorgeous.'
She felt her skin warm, and she couldn't stop the slightly embarrassed little laugh that escaped from her chest. 'Sam...'
'I want to kiss you,' he said softly. 'Will you let me?'
She nodded, speechless with need and emotion, and, leaning over, he angled his head and touched his lips to hers.
Just gently, just the lightest touch, but it struck a spark to the tinder of her withered, lonely heart and brought it to life. But all too soon he was lifting his head and moving away, his eyes still locked with hers.
'Can I see you again?'
She nodded. 'Of course.'
'Tonight?' He closed his eyes. 'Damn, no, I can't tonight, I promised I'd go up to the Carters' for a drink later. You could come?'
She shook her head. 'No. I don't think so. I think this should just be between us.'
A shadow crossed his face. 'Yes, of course. I was forgetting. Saturday, then? Saturday night. We could---I don't know, we could go out of town somewhere.'
'Or I could cook for you,' she suggested, and then wondered if that was too much, too soon. 'Or we could just go for a walk.'
'We could go for a walk and then you could cook for me another time.'
She smiled. 'That's two dates.'
'Mmm.' He smiled back. 'It is. Well?'
She nodded, still smiling. 'Yes. Let's go for a walk on Saturday, if it's not raining.'
'And if it is?'
She shrugged. 'We could go to the cinema?'
'And sit in the back row?'
The little bubble of laughter wouldn't stay down. They'd done that so often when they'd first started going out together. And he'd taken full advantage of the darkness...
'Maybe. If you promise to be good.'
'Oh, I'll be good,' he vowed, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest.
She sucked in a deep breath. 'OK. We'll do that, then. Walk or cinema, and then on Sunday I'll cook for you.'
He pulled a face. 'I should probably be at home on Sunday, cooking a roast for my mother. Sunday is always a roast, or it always used to be. And if I cook it, there's a fair chance it won't be drowned in saturated fat and there'll be lots of fresh vegetables.'
She cocked her head on one side. 'That sounds very civilised.'
'Oh, I can be---when the occasion demands it, I can be very civilised. But most of the time it's something fast, cheap and easy.'
She laughed. 'That sounds a little suspect,' she teased, and he chuckled.
'Well, if the cap fits...' He turned back to the dog and scratched his ears. 'Shall we go back to Mum, little man?'
Digger jumped up, tail wagging, and Sam got stiffly to his feet, flexing his left leg which was obviously giving him trouble still.
'Are you sure you're OK for a walk on Saturday?' she asked, and he shot her a curious look.
'Yes---why?'
'I just wondered. Your leg?'
'My leg's OK. I have to keep using it. It's getting better all the time, and a walk will be just what it needs. And Digger will have a great time, won't you, mate?'
They walked back to the house side by side, not quite touching but close enough for little electric currents to zing between them, and when he slipped his hand behind her back to usher her across the road she felt the warmth of it curl through her, right down to her toes.
'Have you got everything?' he asked as she stopped by her car, and she nodded.
'Yes, I picked it all up on the way out.'
'I'll just put the dog in and move my car, then.'
She unlocked her car and got in, wondering if he'd kiss her again, but instead he opened his car door once the dog was safely inside, fired up the engine and moved out into the road so she could get out, and then he gave her a lazy, sexy wink and a wave as she moved off up the hill.
It was going to be a long time till Saturday...
FRIDAY was busy, and Gemma hardly saw Sam.
Probably just as well, she told herself, as she wasn't sure she could control her reaction to him well enough in front of patients, but it was curious to know that he was in the room just below her. Curious and comforting, in an oddly exciting way. But then she saw him go out on his visits just before lunch, and wondered how the surgery could suddenly feel so empty.
Ridiculous.
But in her heart was a little bubble of hope, and she kept seeing that little sexy wink and the waggle of his fingers as he'd waved her off last night, and she couldn't wait till tomorrow.
'Right, that should be OK for a few days, but if you have any trouble, come back to me on Monday,' she said to Mrs Jacobs as she smoothed the dressing firmly into place over her leg ulcer. It was healing well, and hopefully the dressings could come off altogether soon.
She glanced at her watch as she showed Mrs Jacobs out of the door. Ten to twelve. Time for a bit of paperwork---mostly reminders for smear tests and well-person checks, baby inoculations and so on. Necessary, but dull, and not the part of her job she liked best, by any means.
Still, she had a good clinic this afternoon, a nice mix of young and old, well and not so well. And with any luck, it would make the day whiz by and take her mind off Sam for long enough that she could do her job!
'Sam?'
He stopped on the path of his patient's bungalow and looked in at the intimidatingly familiar face of his old headmistress in the window next door.
She was tapping on the glass, and she beckoned him in with an imperious finger. He felt a smile curve his lips, and without ceremony he crossed the grass, tapped on the door and went in. 'Well, hello, you,' he said, crossing over to her and crouching down beside her chair. 'How are you? You look well.'
'I'm very well. Back in my home at last---have you got time for a cup of tea?'
He glanced at his watch. He did, but only if he didn't stop for lunch at the practice---which meant not seeing Gemma. But he could live with that. It would heighten the suspense---as if that was necessary! But Gertrude Stanbury had been one of the very few people who'd believed in him, Nick being the other most significant one, and he owed old Gertie a damn sight more than the time for a cup of tea. Not that he'd get that if she heard him refer to her as Gertie!
'That would be lovely,' he said with genuine warmth, and he stood back and watched as she struggled to her feet and limped painfully into the kitchen.
'You're in pain,' he said, and she turned and raised that autocratic brow at him as of old.
'And just who are you to tell me that?'
He grinned. 'Ah, well, it was a medical comment.'
'Was it, indeed? I've had a knee replacement, and I need the other one done. Going to fast-track me?'
He chuckled. 'You know I would if I could, but it wouldn't be fair and, anyway, I'm only locuming. I have as much clout as you do, probably a damn sight less. So---how are you really?'
'Oh, not so good, but I manage. Sam, could you put the kettle on for me? I find it hard to lift if there's more than just a cupful in.'
'Sure.'
He wondered how on earth she did manage, and asked.
'Oh, I have a home help who's marvellous, and I get by. But I'm all the better for seeing you back home. I'm sorry about your mother. I gather she's made excellent progress.'
'She has. Who's your spy?'
She chuckled. 'Lauren. She came to put me through my paces this morning. Sam, could you pass me down those cups, please?'
'Sure. I gather you had to move out after the flood.'
'I did, but it's done me a huge favour. I've got new furniture and carpets and everywhere's redecorated---it's like a new house, and yet all my precious things were safe, because they were in the top of a wardrobe. And the rest...' She shrugged and smiled. 'Well, I won't have to worry about replacing anything again in my lifetime. The insurance company were wonderful. So---tell me about Africa. What's this I hear about you having an accident?'
'Nothing passes you by, does it?' he said gently, taking the carefully laid tray from the worktop and following her into her sitting room.
'Not much, but I can see that you survived it, more or less. I gather young Jamie's in trouble, though, talking of things that don't pass me by,' she went on. 'You want to keep him away from Gary Lovelace. I don't often give up on a child, as you know, but---well, some people are just plain bad, and I'm afraid he might be one of them. Keep him away from him, Sam, before something awful happens.'
He sighed. 'I don't know if I can. I can threaten, cajole, bribe---but it has to come from him. And I can't find the motivator.'
'I think it all stems from your father leaving---just as yours did. That sense of abandonment---and then you left, when he was six, and now his mother's ill and could so easily have died---he's just scared to love, Sam, scared to care.'
Hell, he knew that feeling so well. He was aching to be back with Gemma, but he was so afraid to trust her, and there was something she wasn't telling him.
'How's it going with Gemma?'
He narrowed his eyes. What the hell did Gertie Stanbury know about Gemma? Could she read his mind? Apparently, because she went on, 'Oh, come on, Sam! I know you loved her---and I know she loved you. And ever since she came back to Penhally, I've been waiting for you to come home. I knew you would. You all do, in the end.'
'Maybe,' he said, and then changed the subject---or at least, the subject of the subject. 'What do you remember about Polly Searle?'
'Oh, dear, that poor child. Little mouse. She had the most dreadful home life---awful man, her father. I was so worried what would become of her after her mother died. I thought she'd waste away at one point but she always had brains, just like you. Thank goodness she got away and she's all right. She'll be a marvellous doctor---a really good listener. Not enough people are, you know. Kate Althorp was wonderful to her, and I think they're still in touch. She's her godmother, I believe. Why do you ask?'
'Kate was talking about her. We need a woman doctor and Kate was suggesting she might be available.'
'Oh. Well, I don't know if she'll come back. It'll take a lot of courage, but she was never short of that.'
Sam tried to remember, but his image of Polly was blurred by time and had never been a strong one. 'Oh, well, time will tell, I suppose,' he said, and got to his feet. 'I need to get on. It's lovely to see you again.'
'You haven't told me about your accident.'
He grinned. 'No, that's right, I haven't. I'll have to come back again.'
'You do that, young man. You're always welcome in my house. And good luck with Gemma.'
He opened his mouth to correct her, but then shut it again and smiled. 'Thank you. And you take care of yourself. I'll see you soon.'
'Bring me good news!' she called as she watched him down the path, and he laughed and waved her goodbye, then got back into his car and drove down to the surgery, listening to the weather forecast as he went.
Tomorrow was going to be warm and sunny, with light winds and the odd bit of high cloud. Pity, he thought with a wry smile. He'd been looking forward to the cinema...
'Kate? It's Rob.'
'Oh, hi, Rob.' Kate cradled the phone against her ear and watched Jem through the open door to the sitting room. 'What can I do for you?'
'I was just wondering what you and Jem are doing today. I was hoping to see you to ask you last night at school, but you weren't there.'
'No, I'm sorry, I was working late---but we haven't any plans today,' she told him, wondering what he was going to suggest and discovering that she was actually looking forward to it, whatever it might turn out to be. 'What did you have in mind?'
'A bike ride. It's so lovely, I thought I'd take Matthew up onto Bodmin, and I wondered if you'd like to join us?'
'Oh. That would be really nice---although I can't remember when I last rode my bike. Jem's is getting a bit small for him. I'm going to have to get another one soon, I think, because he's growing like a weed. Maybe for his birthday---actually, that's a good idea. It's this month. Perhaps you can give me some guidance, because I really don't know what's good for kids or not.'
Rob chuckled. 'No problem. So I'll pick up the school minibus with the bike rack on the back and come and get you---what time?'
'How about ten? Does that give you long enough? Either then or later, so it's not too hot---and I could bring a picnic.'
'That would be really nice. I'll see you at ten, then.'
She hung up, a little smile playing around her mouth, and went through to the sitting room. Jem looked up as she walked in. 'Who was that, Mum?'
'Mr Werrick. He wondered if we'd like to go for a bike ride up on Bodmin.'
'Cool! Can we go?'
'I said yes---and we're going to take a picnic, so you need to check the tyres on both our bikes while I have a look and see what I can find in the fridge.'
'Tuna sandwiches,' Jem yelled, running out of the back door, 'and chocolate biscuits!'
'OK!' And humming, Kate took out the bread and set to work.
It was glorious up on Bodmin.
Glorious because, with the wind in her hair and Sam at her side, she could have been eighteen again, back in the days when nothing had troubled them and everything had seemed wonderful.
They'd ridden out across the moors on his big, powerful bike the summer he'd met her, when she'd only been seventeen and he eighteen, dark and dangerously exciting in his black leathers with the shadow of stubble on his jaw and that wickedly enticing twinkle in his eyes, and they'd lain in the heather and kissed for hours on end, till her lips were full and swollen and her skin was raw from stubble rash, but she wouldn't go any further. Not until she was married. She was saving herself---it was a promise she'd made to herself ages ago, and she'd meant it, but hadn't stopped Sam trying everything else that he could think of, and he'd had an amazing imagination.
But it hadn't been enough, and so the second summer, after a frustrating year of letters and phone calls during term time and seeing her only when she was down in Penhally with her parents at their holiday cottage, he'd asked her to marry him, in a crazy moment, and she'd been so stunned and so in love with him she'd said yes.
They'd been up here on the moor when he'd asked her. Lying on a picnic rug, hearts racing, their bodies screaming for that last step that she wouldn't take, and she'd often wondered if he would have asked her if she hadn't held out, or if their affair would just have fizzled out.
But he had asked her, and it seemed incredible now that they'd gone through with it. She'd gone home to Bath on the pretext of needing some more clothes and had tracked down her birth certificate, and they'd gone straight to the registrar and arranged it, booked a time for the first legal opportunity just sixteen days later, and then, without telling anyone, they'd made their vows, with Jack and Lucy Tremayne, sworn to secrecy, as their witnesses.
They'd spent forty-eight hours of hedonistic bliss in the ramshackle beach house he was renting just a mile along from the centre of the village, and with incredible patience and restraint, Sam had gently, tenderly, shown her just what her body was capable of. They'd had so much fun, shed tears of laughter and of joy, eating, sleeping, talking and above all making love again and again and again, and then reality had intruded with a thunderous knock at the door in the middle of the night, and her parents had stood there, incandescent with rage. And telling them they were married didn't help. At all.
'Hey, what's up?'
She dragged herself out of the past and looked up at him, still miles away. 'Nothing,' she said, blinking away the bitter-sweet memories of that long-ago summer. 'Just remembering.'
'Remembering?' he said, a teasing light in his eyes. 'Have you been here before, then?'
And she reminded herself that they were starting again, without the past, without the hang-ups and heartaches, and she smiled a little mischievously. 'Oh, once or twice, but I was much younger then. I always loved it up here. How about you?'
'Likewise---but I have to say the present's every bit as good,' he murmured.
She gazed up into his eyes, her breath lodged in her throat, and then he seemed to free himself from his trance and reached back into the car. 'Here, I brought us some lunch. We can take it with us and find somewhere to sit and eat it.'
'Oh! How lovely! Thanks, Sam. Let me take it, you've got the dog.' And he couldn't manage both, not with his torn shoulder.
'Thanks. Wretched dog. He needs to learn not to go down holes so I can let him off for a run. It took five days to dig him out last time, and he was lucky to survive, apparently. Personally, I would have left him there, wouldn't I, Digger?'
Digger wriggled his tail and grinned, tongue lolling, lead taut as he stood poised for his walk, and Sam grinned back and locked the car and headed off along the path with Gemma at his side.
They walked over the rise, not too far because of his ankle, listening to the sound of the curlews and the bleating of the sheep, and then they settled down with their faces to the sun and their backs to an outcrop of granite, and ate their lunch.
'This is gorgeous,' she said round a mouthful of smoked-salmon sandwich, and he grinned.
'Ah, well, a little bird told me you like smoked salmon,' he teased. Stealing her sandwich from her hand, he opened it, peeled out the salmon and dangled it over her mouth. 'Open wide,' he instructed, and then slowly lowered it to her lips.
She took it from him, their eyes locked, and he threw the bread to the dog who was poised waiting.
'Mmm,' she said, licking her lips, and his eyes darkened, his breath hissing out and touching her face. Another inch, she thought. Just another inch, and his lips...
The contact brought a shuddering sigh from his chest, and she could feel his hand trembling against her cheek.
'God, Gemz, I want you,' he breathed, and she heard a whimper of longing---hers? Oh, yes, hers, a longing for the touch of his body, for the feel of his skin against hers, for the weight of him poised over her, his solid, muscled body trembling with restraint.
His hand slid up under her T-shirt and cupped her breast, and she arched up into his palm, aching for him just as she had all those years ago. But it was worse now, harder to hold back, because she knew what she was missing, knew just what his touch had to offer, what his body could do to hers and the heights it could take her to, but she couldn't let him, couldn't go there again, not without telling him...
Sam hauled himself back under control. He couldn't do this. Not up here, on the moor, where anybody could walk past and see them. They weren't kids any longer, they were adults---married to each other, for heaven's sake, although now that was little more than a technicality, he thought with regret---but he needed her. God, how he needed her, the healing touch of her hands on his body, the tender kisses, the sweet sighs, the fractured little screams as she neared her peak, and it was driving him mad.
'Gemz? Let's get out of here,' he groaned softly. 'I want to make love to you, and I'm not doing it with an audience of sheep and ponies and dog-walkers.'
'We can't, Sam.'
'Why not? Give me one good reason why not.'
She swallowed and forced herself to meet his eyes with an unsteady smile. 'Because we've only just met.'
She saw confusion in his eyes, then frustration and then, finally, irony. He laughed softly and dropped onto his back beside her, his wry chuckle making her smile. 'Oh, you witch. Really?'
Her smile faded. 'Really, Sam,' she said quietly. 'There's still a lot we don't know about each other. So many things have happened, so much water under the bridge---'
She broke off and he searched her face for clues. So many things have happened.
But what things? And why---?
'Digger, no! Come back! Oh, hell.'
He leapt up, letting out a sharp groan and clutching his thigh, and headed off after the dog. 'Digger, damn it, come back here!'
But Digger had seen something, and he was off. Gemma scrambled to her feet and ran after them both, and then watched in horror as the terrier leapt into the path of a group of cyclists and tried to bite the front wheel of the leading bike.
The bike wobbled, all the others swerved and crashed, and the first bike arced through the air and landed on top of the child in the heather.
Oh, lord, she thought, and, racing past Sam, she arrived to a scene of chaos and sobbing, with Kate Althorp in the middle of it.
'Kate! I'm so sorry, he's a naughty dog. Digger, come here, baby. Good boy.' She caught the limping dog and held him while Sam went to the child who'd fallen off. Jem, she thought. It's Jem. She didn't recognise the other boy, or the man who was hovering over him, but she knew Kate's son, and she heaved a sigh of relief as he got to his feet, flexing his wrist and trying not to cry.
'Are you all right, Jem?' Kate was asking, and he nodded.
'How's Matthew?'
'He's fine,' the man said. 'He's banged his shin but I think he's all right.'
'Here, Jem, let me have a look. I'm a doctor,' Sam was saying gently, feeling the boy's forearm and wrist carefully with his fingers. 'I think it's OK, but it's hard to tell. It could be a sprain. If you can come down to the surgery, I'll X-ray it for you and check, and we can plaster it if necessary, but I don't think it will be. I'm just so sorry---I was distracted, and the dog just got away from me.'
Distracted by kissing Gemma, who was standing a few feet away from him looking shaken. Idiot. He should have tied the dog's lead to his foot, not just assumed that the promise of food would be enough to keep him there.
'It's all right, accidents happen,' Kate said, but Gemma could see she was shaking as she bent over her son. 'All right, my love?'
Jem nodded, sniffing a little and struggling to be brave, and Kate said, 'I'm sorry, I should introduce everyone. This is Rob Werrick and his son Matthew, and this is my son Jeremiah. Rob, this is Sam Cavendish, our locum doctor, and Gemma, our practice nurse.'
'Sam---of course,' Rob said, nodding at him. 'I should have recognised you, you're the spitting image of your brother.'
Sam grunted. Was he? Of course he was---and they were both the spitting image of their father, although he'd left his mother because he didn't believe Jamie was his, of all the ironies. And now was not the time to get into that.
'Where's your car?' he asked, and Rob jerked his head towards the top of the hill.
'Up there---it's next to a silver hire car. Is that yours?'
'Yes. So we're going in the same direction. How are we going to get us all back there?'
'I'll go and get the van---it's the school minibus, it'll go over these tracks. I won't be long. Matt, stay here with Jem and Kate, and I'll be as quick as I can, all right?'
He nodded, and his father set off for the car park at a run, and they settled down to wait. Sam glanced at the injured boy, and felt a vague flicker of recognition. Jem looked familiar, but he couldn't work out why. He was nothing like James Althorp, that was for sure, but he reminded him so clearly of someone...
'Why don't we sit down and wait for him?' he suggested, and they all sank down on the heather, the bikes still lying where they'd fallen, and Gemma brought the dog over to him, a worried look in her eyes.
'Sam, I'm not sure, but I think Digger might be hurt.'
'Oh, no! I didn't mean to hurt him!' Jem said, sounding worried, but Sam just gave him a rueful smile.
'It's hardly your fault, Jem. He's a rascal. Digger, come here, boy, let me see.'
But he was holding his paw up, and Sam could see without getting closer that it was swelling.
'I think it might have got run over,' he said quietly. 'Silly, silly dog. That'll teach you to chase bikes. We'll have to take you to the vet later.'
'You can go now. Uncle Nick can X-ray my arm,' Jem said. 'He won't mind.'
Uncle Nick? Or...?
The recognition was sudden and startling, and Sam let out his breath on a quiet, surprised sigh and turned back to the dog while he assimilated the information. Nick and Kate? Really? When?
'Mum, I think my bike's broken.'
'Oh, no,' Sam groaned. 'Look, I'll pay for a new one, OK?'
'No, you won't,' Kate said with a smile. 'It was too small for him anyway. I was going to buy him a new one for his birthday---it's this month.'
May. Nine months after August. So that summer, the summer he and Gemma had got married, the summer of the storm, Nick and Kate had been having an affair?
God. Had Annabel known? Had Jack, or Lucy, or Ed?
No. Surely not? There'd been no sign---not that he would have noticed, he admitted, because he'd been so wrapped up in Gemma the world could have fallen apart and they wouldn't have noticed.
The sound of an engine interrupted his thoughts, and the minibus appeared over the rise and bumped its way down to them. Minutes later they were packed up and away, and although the dog was injured, Sam insisted that they drive down to the surgery to make sure Jem was all right before they took Digger to the vet.
They were met by Nick, who examined the boy's arm and X-rayed it with a curious detachment that Sam found puzzling. Almost as if he was keeping his distance...
'Well, it's just a sprain, I think,' Nick said, and Sam, looking at the X-ray over his shoulder, nodded in relief and turned back to the others, to see Rob's gaze flicking curiously from Nick to Jem and back again. So he can see it, too, Sam thought. It's not just me. And who else has worked it out? Did Nick know? Surely to God he must?
But it was none of his business, and he forced himself to concentrate. 'Thank heavens for that,' he said, and smiled at the boy apologetically. 'I'm really sorry, Jem, but I'll make sure you get a new bike out of it, OK? It's the least I can do. Right, if it's OK with you all, I need to take the wretched dog to the vet now,' he said. 'Who do I call?'
'Oh, that'll be Melinda Lovac. Dragan was complaining that she was on call and so he'd be left with a grizzly baby,' Gemma said with a smile. 'He's teething, and he's had a cold. Give her a ring---here, we've got her number,' she said, and, going behind Reception, she looked it up, dialled the number and handed him the receiver, then went to put a support bandage on Jeremiah's arm.
'Oh, Digger! What a smart paw!' Gemma said, popping in later to see how he was and admiring his bandage. 'And what a lovely hat!'
'Idiot dog,' Sam grumbled as Digger turned round and smashed the clear plastic Elizabethan collar into his leg. 'How's Jem?'
'Fine. He's a bit sore, but I've put a support on it and he's OK, and everyone else is all right. Matthew's got a little bruise on his shin but, apart from that, the only other damage is to Jem's bike.'
'I still think I should replace it.'
'No. Kate's insistent she's buying him one for his birthday.'
'Well, she can, but I'm paying for it,' he said stubbornly, and Gemma chuckled.
'I'll let you two sort it out between you,' she said, knowing just how stubborn Kate could be, too. 'So what happened to his paw?'
'Fractured metacarpal. Melinda said he'll be fine, but he needs to keep the bandage on as long as possible---which will be as long as we can stand him crashing into things in that lampshade. Hopefully it'll teach him a lesson, but I'm not holding my breath. He's a terrier, and terriers are born to chase and to dig. He does both, with knobs on!' He tipped his head over to one side. 'So---we never got to finish lunch,' he said softly, 'and there's the remains of the picnic sitting in the cool box in my car. How's about going down to the beach to finish it? Without the dog?'
'Oh, Digger, he's so mean to you!' she murmured, scratching his head inside the collar, and then she straightened up with a smile and met his eyes. His sexy, smouldering, midnight-blue eyes. And then she remembered what they were doing, what he was saying, when the dog had run off, and her heart pounded.
'That sounds lovely,' she said, and she pulled herself together with effort. They were supposed to be getting to know each other all over again---but not that fast! And there was so much she needed to tell him before she let him get that close, but they should be safe on the beach. 'But I can't stop for long,' she added. 'I've got lots to do.'
Which was a total lie, because she'd cleaned her house until it squeaked the previous weekend, apart from the ironing---well, OK, the ironing was still there, and would take her the rest of this weekend, so it wasn't really a lie, except that now she'd have to do it!
'Come on, then, we'll take the car. All that running over rough ground hasn't done my ankle any good. I reckon Lauren will kill me.'
'No, she won't. She'll just sigh and fix it,' she said, and followed him out of the door, leaving the disappointed dog behind.
They drove up over the rise past the church and the Smugglers' Inn, and then past the surfing beach and on to the next cove, to the beach where Sam had been camping out in the tumbledown little wooden shack all those summers ago.
The place where they'd spent their honeymoon, she thought, with the single bed against the wall and a Primus stove to cook on and not much else, but it had been home, for one glorious and utterly romantic weekend. It wasn't there any more, of course. It had been in a terrible state even then, and she imagined it had fallen to pieces long ago.
'There used to be a little cabin here on stilts, just on the edge of the beach, by the sand dunes,' she said softly, carrying on their game of let's pretend as they settled down on the sand with their backs to a rock. 'Along there, at the end.'
He met her eyes, his expression sombre. 'Yes. It got smashed to bits in a storm, just after my...' He hesitated, then went on, 'Just after the girl I loved left me.'
She felt tears fill her eyes. She hadn't known that. Hadn't known that the house had been destroyed by the storm, that Sam could have been in it, that everything inside must have been washed into the sea. And all those memories...
'I'm sorry,' she said, her heart aching for him, because it had been his retreat, the place he came to escape the pressures of home. And for those few days, it had been like living in paradise. 'Were you---were you here? When it happened?'
'No. I was up in the village, trying to help get the kids off the rocks,' he said bleakly, remembering how he'd helped them, how he'd watched James Althorp being washed away, and Nick's brother Phil being smashed against the cliff by a huge wave, but none of it had reached him because he'd been numb inside, so overwhelmed with pain because she'd left him that he'd shut down. 'I didn't think about the house at all. But then I went back later, and it was gone, everything washed away, just broken matchwood flung up on the foreshore and a few bits of clothing lying around in the seaweed like so much flotsam. I didn't come here again for years.'
'Oh, Sam. I'm so sorry.'
He smiled, a fleeting, sad smile, and shook his head. 'Don't be. It was a long time ago, and nothing to do with us.'
Really? He was still persisting with that? OK. She took a deep, steadying breath and prodded the cool box with her foot. 'So are you going to feed me, then, or is this going to be yet another occasion when you tease me with food and then leave me hungry?' she said lightly, and he gave a soft huff of laughter and pulled the lid off.
'Oh, I don't want to leave you hungry, Gemma. That's not my style. Not my style at all. So---what do you fancy?'
You, she thought, her heart thumping. I want you, Sam. Nothing else. Nothing more. Just you. But I don't know if I can have you, and I don't know if it's fair to ask...
SUNDAY was dull.
Gemma spent the whole day ironing and daydreaming about Sam, and the night doing the other sort of dreaming---the sort of dreaming that had been more and more frequent since he'd come back, and which, since Saturday's kiss, had started to spiral out of control.
And on Monday morning she went back to work, and he was the first person she saw, coming upstairs to the staffroom to grab a cup of tea before his surgery.
'You don't have to do that, my duck, I'll bring it down to you in a moment. You go on,' Doris said, fussing around him, and Sam thanked her and shot Gemma a wry smile over her head---a smile that said had they been alone, there might have been another kiss.
She went into her room and was buzzed almost immediately.
'Morning, gorgeous,' he murmured in a wonderfully growly purr that sent a shiver down her spine. 'How's the ironing?'
'Done,' she said with a smile. 'How was the roast?'
'Good---except that Jamie went out straight afterwards and didn't get home till three. I had to drag him out of bed again this morning---but you don't need to hear that. I just wanted to tell you---oh, thank you, Doris, put it there, that's great.' He paused, and she heard his door click shut before he went on in that deep, persuasive rumble, 'My mother's got an appointment at the hospital today, so I'll be going in after lunch with her and then after that I'm free, and you did mention the other day that you'd cook for me at some point, so I thought tonight might be a good opportunity...'
She squashed a smile. 'Are you inviting yourself to dinner, Dr Cavendish?'
She could hear his answering smile down the phone. 'Do you know, Nurse Johnson, I believe I might be?'
And then there was a funny silence, while they both thought about that. Because of course she wasn't Johnson any more, but she wasn't Cavendish either, not really, and she wasn't sure if she ever would be again. It took her a second to get her mind back in order, to remind herself that they were playing a game and she needed to stick to the rules, for now at least, and then she took a deep breath and said, 'Well, then, I suppose it would be churlish not to extend a formal invitation, wouldn't it?'
'It might very well be. Seven-thirty or eight?'
'Or earlier. I have to be at work tomorrow morning at eight, so if you don't want to be kicked out the moment you've scraped up the last morsel, you could make it seven.'
'Seven will do nicely. Can I bring anything?'
'Just yourself. You know the way to Seagull Cottage, don't you?'
'I'm sure I'll find it,' he said with a chuckle in his voice. 'I'll see you later.'
'I'll look forward to it.'
She cradled the phone with a smile, and tried to concentrate on her patients, but then a man hobbled into her room and asked if she could put something on his leg to support it, because it was swelling a bit since he'd trapped it between the boats on Friday. Alarm bells rang instantly.
'Friday?' she said. 'But it's Monday.'
'Well, I've been busy, and I didn't think it was anything to worry about really, but it's giving me a bit of stick now.'
'Well, let me have a look,' she said, and when he rolled up his trouser leg she had to stifle a gasp. It was black. Literally black, from the knee down, and she couldn't imagine how much pain he must be in. 'I really think you need to see a doctor with this,' she said, comparing it to his other, undamaged, leg. It was nearly twice the size, and she was worried for the circulation to his foot.
If it wasn't too late to worry. She hoped not. The foot was cool---colder than the other one, but not too much so, and she buzzed Sam and asked him if he could pop up for a moment when he was free.
'I'll come now, you've caught me between patients,' he said, and she heard his uneven tread on the landing and then a sharp tap as he entered.
'This is Mr Polgrean, he trapped his leg between two boats on Friday,' she explained, and Sam took one look at it and nodded briskly.
'Hello there, Mr Polgrean, I'm Dr Cavendish.'
'I know who you are, and your brother's no better. Don't know what your mother's thinking about the way she's let you both run around, causing havoc and making people's lives a misery. I want another doctor. I don't want you anywhere near my leg.'
Sam folded his arms and nodded from the other side of the room, but Gemma could see the withdrawal in his eyes and knew he must be hurt. 'OK. Fair enough. But I'm the only doctor on the premises at the moment, and I don't know if you have any idea of the seriousness of this injury, but even from here I can tell you that there's a possibility you'll lose the leg if you don't get to hospital immediately. I think you have a thing called compartment syndrome---'
'This is no time for one of your jokes, young man,' Mr Polgrean said. 'I know what you're doing, and it won't work.'
Sam ignored him and carried on. 'When you caught your leg between the boats, you bruised it, but there's a problem with that. Each of the muscles in your leg is enclosed in a sheath, and you've sustained such severe injuries to the muscles that they've all swollen and because of the tight sheath around each one, the pressure on the muscles is going to cause them to die. And then you'll lose your leg. And if you ignore it for too long, you could die. Now, clever money would go to hospital and have an operation to cut a little slit in each of the sheaths to reduce the compression on the muscles and save your leg, but if you like, I'll go back downstairs and we can let nature take its course.'
Mr Polgrean stared at Sam for an age and swallowed hard. 'You're just trying to frighten me. You're blinding me with science and trying to scare the living daylights out of me, but I know you and your practical jokes, Sam Cavendish, and I'm not falling for this one.'
'No. I'm not joking,' he said quietly. 'I'm sorry you don't like me or my family, but that's nothing to do with this. I did a lot of things when I was young that I regret, but I'm not going to let that lead me into doing something else as an adult that I'll regret even more, and if I walk away from you now and you lose your leg, I won't be able to live with myself. And I have to say, dumping several stone of spoilt herring on our drive was pretty good revenge,' he added softly. 'I was clearing it up for days.'
Mr Polgrean grunted, but his leg was obviously extremely painful, and Gemma was getting worried. Sam was standing there waiting, Mr Polgrean was lying with arms folded over his bulky chest and the faint aroma of rotting fish drifting from him, and she wondered what it would take to break the deadlock.
But then he started to chuckle. 'Days?' he said. 'Did it take you that long, boy?'
Sam's mouth twitched. 'It did, and I never forgot it. I thought I'd never get the smell off my hands.'
'I've still got that mermaid painted on my boat,' Mr Polgrean said slowly. 'You did a good job. Best endowed mermaid I ever did see,' he mused, a smile flickering on his face. 'But your brother---'
'My brother is nothing to do with this, and I'm dealing with him.'
'Not fast enough. He was outside last night with that Gary Lovelace, causing all sorts of mayhem. Wonder they weren't all arrested.'
Gemma saw Sam close his eyes and sigh quietly.
'So---what's it to be? Hospital, or sit there and argue until your leg drops off?' It was said quietly, very matter-of-factly, and after a moment the man nodded.
'All right, then. Do your worst, young Dr Cavendish, but I tell you, if I die, I'm coming back to haunt you.'
Sam grinned wryly. 'I don't doubt it, Mr Polgrean. I don't doubt it for a moment.'
The tap on her door was a minute early, but it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been ten minutes early, or ten minutes late, come to that, because she was still in her bedroom vacillating between the blue jeans with a longsleeved T-shirt, the black trousers with a lacy vest top and a shrug over the top, and a little sundress that was probably too thin for the cool May evening but was so pretty she really, really wanted to wear it.
And now here he was, and she still hadn't made a decision.
'Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,' she said, and grabbed the little dress at random, hauling it over her head and fluffing her hair into place before running downstairs in bare feet.
'Hi,' she said, opening the door, and he came in, took one look at her and dumped the flowers he was carrying and kissed her.
'Hi, yourself,' he murmured when he came up for air. 'You look gorgeous. I brought you some flowers and some of Mum's chocolate stash, in the interests of preventative medicine.'
She chuckled and went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Thank you. That's very public spirited of you, and I'll do my best to justify your faith in my ability to protect the community from harm.'
He laughed and pulled her back up against him and kissed her once more, then he freed her slowly and sniffed. 'Something smells good. What are we having?'
'Moules marinière, and fresh homemade bread---well, it will be, when it comes out of the breadmaker---and steak from the Trevellyans' with a green salad and some new potatoes, and I've got a nice bottle of Chablis in the fridge and some Merlot if you'd rather. Except of course you're driving.'
He grinned. 'That's fine. I can still get you tipsy and have my evil way with you,' he murmured, and she felt a quiver of need race through her.
'Ever the gentleman,' she murmured, and turned away to the stove, only to find his arms sneaking round her and easing her up against his hard, muscular body.
'You wouldn't really want that,' he murmured into the angle of her neck, his lips nibbling at her skin.
'Maybe not, but I want to eat first,' she said, and then there was a breathless silence before he reached out and switched off the hob, then turned her slowly into his arms.
'First?' he said, his face taut, his body rigid with tension.
She gave in. 'Oh, Sam,' she whispered, and going up on tiptoe, she cradled his face in her hands and drew him down for her kiss. 'I've missed you so much.'
'Hell, Gemz,' he muttered, and then his mouth was plundering hers, searching it hungrily, his lips moving over her face, her throat, over her collar bones while his right hand slid up inside her dress, dragging it up so he could curl his fingers over her hipbone and haul her closer.
'I need you, Gemma. It's been so damn long and I just want to hold you.'
She eased away from him, took his shaking hand in hers and led him up the steep, narrow staircase to her bedroom. The bed was made, the linen freshly washed and ironed, courtesy of yesterday, and she threw the jeans and trousers off it and then gasped as he seized the hem of her dress and peeled it over her head.
'Oh, God, you look the same,' he said, his eyes, as black as midnight, trailing over her and leaving fire in their wake. 'So lovely---so damned lovely.'
'And you're overdressed,' she said, and heard her voice shake a little.
She reached for his belt and unbuckled it, her hands trembling so much she could hardly shift the zip, and he took over, heeling off his shoes and shucking his jeans and boxers and socks in one smooth movement.
His shirt was next, dragged over his head with a muffled groan as he raised his left arm too high for his torn shoulder to tolerate, but it slowed him down, gave him time to draw breath and get himself back under control before he reached for her again.
Because he wanted to do this right. He had no idea what had been wrong before, but something had, he was sure of it, and he wasn't making any mistakes this time; not if it killed him, but after eleven years his control was hanging by a very frayed and tattered thread.
He held out his arms to her, and she walked straight into them, wrapping her arms around him so that he felt her warm, soft body against his for the first time in so long, and he gave a shuddering sigh.
'God, I've missed you. That feels so good,' he mumbled into her hair. 'So soft, so warm. Gemma---'
'Shh. Come on,' she said. Taking him by the hand again, she led him to the bed and turned back the covers, then lay down beside him and drew him into her arms and lifted her face to his.
Oh, dear heaven, it felt so good to hold him, to kiss him, to hold his big, strong body against hers after so long. She was shaking all over, and she could feel the tremors running through him every time she touched him.
And she did touch him. She had to, her hands greedy for the feel of him, starved of his touch for too long. Their mouths sought each other, their breath mingling on gasps and sighs as they each rediscovered yet another place, another area of skin that seemed suddenly unreasonably sensitive.
And then he was moving over her, his body shaking as he held himself poised above her, his eyes burning like black coals as they held hers and he entered her with one long, slow, steady thrust that took her clean over the edge.
'Sam!' she screamed, and he drove into her, again and again and again, until with a savage, agonised cry he followed her into oblivion.
'I'm starving. All I can smell is that fresh bread, and I am so damn hungry my stomach's attacking me.'
She chuckled and lifted herself up on one elbow, staring down into his eyes. They were smoky now, the pupils back to normal, the expression slaked---for now, at least, as other needs took over.
'I'd better go down to the kitchen and get stuck in, then, hadn't I?' she said. Throwing off the covers, she pulled her sundress on over her head and padded down the stairs, turning on the stove again and throwing the mussels into the pan on top of the softened onions and garlic and humming softly.
She was stirring them when he appeared, dressed only in his jeans, with the top button undone and that delicious arrow of hair tempting her to follow it down...
'Don't look at me like that or we won't eat tonight and I swear I really will fade away.'
'Yeah, right,' she said, but she turned back to the stove, smiling to herself, and he came up behind her and inspected the food over her shoulder.
'If you want a job, you could take the bread out of the breadmaker, but mind you don't burn yourself.'
'I'm not six,' he reprimanded gently, tipping the golden, steaming loaf out onto the breadboard. 'Wow. I could just rip it in half and eat it.'
'And die. Back off. You can open the wine, I need some for the sauce.'
'Nag, nag, nag,' he grumbled, but he did as she'd asked and handed her the bottle.
'Here, pick out the ones that haven't opened and chuck them,' she said, tipping out the mussels and throwing the wine and cream into the pan.
He leant over her shoulder and sniffed. 'Oh, that smells so good. Funny, I've never thought of you as domesticated, but it works, you know? I think I could go for that, the whole barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen thing---'
He broke off, then swore softly. 'Oh, hell, Gemz. I didn't think about that before.'
She felt a shiver of something that could have been fear but could just as easily have been hope, and her eyes filled. If only it was so simple. If only she could just assume, like everybody else...
'Don't worry, it's a safe time,' she said, without going into details, and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the bubbling sauce.
He grunted, then handed her back the sorted mussels and held out the bowls as she dished up. 'Shall I cut the bread?'
'Mmm---big hunks, but not too big because we've still got the steak to come, and then there's the chocolate.'
'We'll see. We may have to have an inter-course break.'
She spluttered with laughter. 'Did you mean that quite like that?' she asked, and he grinned wickedly.
'I believe I meant it exactly like that. Eat up, I want to take you back to bed, my lovely girl. We've got a lot of catching up to do.'
It was nearly ten before they ate the steak, meltingly tender and bursting with flavour, and Sam thought he'd never tasted anything so good in his life. He pushed the plate away and met her eyes.
'That was fantastic,' he said slowly, and smiled. 'Utterly gorgeous. Beautiful. Sexy as hell.'
'Are we still talking about the steak here?' she asked, and he chuckled.
'Probably not. But that was pretty special, too.' He glanced at his watch. 'I wonder if Jamie's home?'
'Was he meant to be?'
'After last night? Damn right. I gave him hell, courtesy of Mr Polgrean.'
'What was all that about a mermaid, by the way?' she asked, fascinated. 'What did you do to his boat?'
'Ah,' he said, and grinned. 'Yeah, well, there were some marks on the paintwork, and they just suggested this shape to me, so I got some paint---proper marine paint, not any old stuff---and I painted a mermaid over the marks. And she---ah---she was a bit generous in the---ah...'
'Top-heavy?'
He frowned thoughtfully. 'Not really. Just very, very lush.'
'Not like me, then,' she said, wondering if it was utterly unreasonable to be jealous of a mermaid, but Sam just laughed.
'Nothing like you. For a start, you don't have scaly legs.'
'Thank God for that!'
He laughed again, and then getting up he cleared the table, put the plates into the dishwasher and pulled her to her feet. 'I think it's time for chocolate.'
'In the sitting room?'
'No---upstairs,' he said, smiling. 'Go up and wait for me.'
So she went up and sat in the middle of the bed, still in her sundress, and he came up a few minutes later with a tray.
'What on earth have you got there?'
'Grapes, apple, banana and chocolate. Melted chocolate.'
'Oh, wow. DIY chocolate fondue.'
'Exactly. And I'll feed you, but first you have to take off your dress.'
'Done,' she said, flinging it aside. 'I'll have apple first.'
'Uh-uh. We haven't started yet. Lie down.'
She lay, and he picked up a slice of apple, dipped it in the chocolate and dangled it over her mouth. 'Open---now suck.'
She sucked, and his eyes widened.
'Oh, hell, this is not going to work.'
'Works for me,' she mumbled round the apple.
He sighed and dipped a slice of banana into the bowl and trailed the warm chocolate over her chest, then licked it away, and she shivered. He did it again, but then his tongue encountered a little bump in the skin, and he licked it clean and looked at it. A tiny scar. He didn't remember it, but there was plenty of time in eleven years for her to have picked up a scar. He pressed his lips to it and lifted his head, meeting her eyes with a smile.
'Get the idea?'
'Oh, yes,' she said, and, taking her finger and dipping it into the chocolate, she tipped him onto his back and dribbled it down his chest and across the flat, taut plane of his abdomen before putting her finger into her mouth so she could suck it clean while he watched her through narrowed eyes, his breath hissing through his teeth. Then slowly, inch by inch, she followed the dark, glossy trail down his ribs, scooping it up with her tongue while he lay and groaned.
'This was a lousy idea,' he muttered.
She lifted her head and grinned at him mischievously. 'You think? I've never had so much fun with chocolate.'
She straddled him and reached for another fingerful of warm temptation, and as she stroked it over his dark, flat nipples they pebbled under her fingertip and she felt his body harden even more.
'I want you.'
'I know. I can feel.'
'I love you, Gemz,' he said then, and she stopped, her finger halfway to the sauce, and tears filled her eyes.
'Oh, Sam, I love you, too. I've never stopped loving you.'
'Then why---? Oh, hell, what now?'
She stared at him, and then gradually the sound of his mobile phone got through to her. She moved off him, and he sat up and reached for his jeans, pulling the phone out of his pocket with a short sigh.
'Jamie. What the hell does he want?' He flipped the phone open. 'Yeah, hi. What is it?'
'Sam? Sam, where are you?'
'With Gemma,' he said, picking up a note of panic in his brother's voice. 'Why? What's going on? What's the matter?'
'Sam, you have to come. It's Gary---there's been an accident!'
'What! Where? What kind of accident?'
'A car accident. He stole a car, and he's rolled it, and he's trapped underneath, and---Sam, I can smell petrol! You have to come.'
He stabbed a button and put the phone on hands-free. 'Where are you?' he asked, dragging on his jeans while Gemma pulled clothes out of the cupboard and got dressed, handing him his shirt so he could put it on, sorting out his socks and shoes.
'Up at the top of Dunheved Road, near the old mine workings. The car's upside down in a field, and I can hear him screaming!'
'Screaming's good,' Sam said. 'Don't worry, I'm coming. Dial 999 and get police, ambulance and fire brigade there now. I'll be with you in two minutes.' He hung up and turned to Gemma. 'I have to go.'
'I'm coming. You might need help.'
'No, it could be dangerous.'
'Sam, shut up and move,' she said, and ran downstairs after him, her heart in her mouth. No way was she letting Sam put himself in danger without adequate back-up, and, besides, he might need help.
And she'd just have to put her feelings for the boy aside and try and remain professional.
They found the car easily, from the wreckage strewn across the road and Jamie standing by the verge, his face striken.
'Sam, he's here, come on, you've got to get him out!'
'Have you called the emergency services?'
'What? No, Gary said no, he didn't want the police.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' Sam growled. Pulling out his phone, he dialled 999 and ran towards the car, handing the phone to Gemma. 'Keep out of range of the fumes and tell them where we are. I'll give you an update on Gary.' He ducked down beside the car with a sharp grunt, and stuck his head under the edge of the wing. 'Gary? It's Sam. Tell me what hurts.'
'Everything,' the youth sobbed. 'Everything hurts.'
'Can you move?'
'No---I'm stuck, and I can't move at all. It really hurts if I try, but I'm scared and I can't breathe properly.'
'Don't worry, we'll get you out. Are you bleeding anywhere?'
'I don't know. It's wet, but I don't know. And my back's lying on a rock or something, because it really hurts.'
'Sam? Gemma said to give you this,' Jamie said, handing him a torch with shaking hands.
'Great.' But it wasn't, because in the torchlight he could see pink froth around Gary's lips, evidence of lung trauma. And that meant he was running out of time. 'Gemma?'
'Yes?'
He turned his head towards her but toned down the words for Gary's benefit. 'Tell them he's trapped under the car. He's bleeding from a head wound, but his pupils are equal and reactive, and his GCS is 14 at the moment. He's having trouble breathing and he says his back hurts. He could be stuck on a rock. Tell them to get a wriggle on, I think he'd like to get out quite soon.'
'OK,' she called, but he could hear the tremor in her voice, and he cursed his brother and this stupid, stupid idiot he'd got himself mixed up with. Joy-riding, of all the dangerous and lunatic things, and their timing...
'Right, I'm going to try and get closer and see what's going on,' he said, but he just couldn't. The gap was too small, and every time he tried to shift himself, he got a shaft of pain through his shoulder.
And then Gemma was at his side, handing the phone to Jamie and telling him to give directions and stand by to flag down the emergency services, then tugging at his clothes.
'Sam? Get out of the way, you're too big to fit in there.'
'No way! You aren't going in! Gemz, no!'
'Shut up and move,' she said under her breath. 'Someone needs to assess him, and you can't get in there, and if one of us doesn't he might die.'
'He's not going to die.'
'Do you know that?'
And of course he didn't, but there was a chance they all would, with the petrol leak, and just the thought of Gemma trapped under the car if it went up brought bile to his throat.
'You can't---'
'I can. Please.'
And because she was right, because she was smaller than him, and fitter, and more agile, he had to let her, even though it tore him apart.
He couldn't lose her now---not now, after eleven damn years of wanting her back. Not when they were so close to sorting it out. He felt hot tears sting his eyes, but there was no time for sentiment, and he ran back to his car and pulled his medical bag out of the boot.
'Here, I've got a cannula. See if you can establish IV access, and I've got some oxygen and a mask. And, Gemz?'
'Yes?'
'I love you.'
I LOVE you.
The words stayed in her head, echoing round and round for the next dreadful minutes as she struggled to get IV access and keep him oxygenated.
'Gary, lie still, you mustn't move your head, you might have a neck injury. Just lie as still as you can for me, that's great, and we'll get you out of here as soon as we can.'
She could hear the sirens approaching, the blue flashing lights flickering on their surroundings and casting weird shadows under the cramped space she was squeezed in with the injured boy. And what she could see in those pulses of light didn't reassure her at all.
She reached her hand under his shoulder and felt something warm and tacky, and her heart sank. Blood. Lots of it, seeping out of him at an unsustainable rate, and he was starting to fit.
'OK, we have to get him out of here now!' she yelled, and Sam ducked down behind her and laid his hand on her thigh.
'What's going on?'
'He's fitting, Sam, and there's so much blood---Oh, hell, he's gone off. He's not breathing. Sam, we have to get the car off him or we don't stand a chance!'
Behind her, she heard Sam relaying her message, then the voices of the other men arguing, and then she felt someone grab hold of her feet and pull her out.
'What are you doing?'
'We're going to roll the car off him. Come on, out of the way, Gemz.'
He hauled her to her feet and they stumbled backwards as the fire crew and policemen heaved in a concerted effort, and the car hovered and then rolled away, bouncing back on its wheels with a series of creaks and groans.
Light flooded the scene, and Sam dived in almost before the car had settled and put his ear to Gary's chest. 'Quiet!' he yelled, and everyone fell silent. 'Right, he's still with us, we need to stabilise his spine and then scoop and run! Move!'
They moved, and in a matter of moments he was logrolled onto the spinal board, supported and strapped in place and loaded into the waiting ambulance. And Adam Donnelly was there, too, getting into the ambulance and telling Sam to go back to Jamie.
'He needs you, he's in a hell of a state. I've got this one. Maggie's coming, she'll see to him. Right, let's go, everybody!'
Sam turned and looked at Jamie, who was hovering on the fringe, his face ashen and his body shaking. And for the first time he realised there was blood running down his cheek.
He must have scratched himself climbing through the hedge, he thought dumbly, and then Jamie held his stomach and turned away. 'I feel sick,' he said, and retched violently onto the ripped-up grass at the side of the road.
'Jamie?' Gemma crossed to him and put her arm round his shoulders, and Sam stared at him in consternation. Was it just shock? Or...?
'So can anybody tell me how it happened?'
Sam turned to see Lachlan D'Ancey standing in the road with a cluster of police around him, and his heart sank. Of all the things for Jamie to get himself involved in, he thought, and then he heard Jamie talking and his breath jammed in his throat.
'He said he'd borrowed it---I didn't even realise he had a licence, but then I realised it wasn't borrowed at all, and I begged him to stop, but he just went faster, and he was laughing and saying old man Polgrean deserved it if he trashed his car after last night, and then we started to skid and there was a thump and we were just flying through the air.'
Dear God. He'd been in the car?
Sam felt his legs give, and jammed his knees back to stop them collapsing. No! He hadn't been in the car! Surely not? He'd have been injured, and Sam hadn't even so much as glanced at him.
'Jamie, let me see you,' he said, crossing to him and taking the torch from Gemma. He flashed it in his eyes, but to his relief his pupils were equal and reactive and although he was obviously distressed, he was alert.
So he might be concussed, but he wasn't showing signs of brain injury yet. He was lucid, shocked but basically functioning, and Sam lowered the torch and handed it back to Gemma.
'What hurts?' he asked, scanning him quickly and noting he was holding his left arm. 'Were you wearing a seat belt?'
Jamie nodded. 'I was---Gary wasn't.'
Of course not. He'd thought he was immortal, beyond the laws of man or God, but he'd found out the hard way that that simply wasn't true. And he'd taken Jamie with him on that fateful journey with potentially disastrous consequences, and they could have both been dead.
He swallowed hard. 'I need to check you over properly,' he said, wrestling back his control and prioritising.
'Is he dead?' Jamie's voice was hollow, and Sam ached for him. He felt Gemma beside him squeeze his arm, giving him support. 'No, but he's in a very bad way,' he said softly.
'I want to go with him.'
'No, I need to look at you, Jamie. We can go to the surgery.'
'Can we talk to James now? We need to take a formal statement.'
He shook his head. 'Not yet, Lachlan. I want to check him out first. I need to have a proper look at him and X-ray his arm, amongst other things. But you could talk to Mrs Lovelace. She needs to know. Gemma? Keep an eye on him for a minute, I'm just going to pick up my things. I won't be long, bro.'
So while he retrieved his medical equipment from the midst of the wreckage, she put her arm round Jamie's waist and led him to Sam's car and put him into the passenger seat, then perched on the edge and held him tight as he started to shake violently.
'Are you OK, Jamie?' she asked softly.
'I'm fine,' he said, but his voice was flat and his body was shaking like a leaf.
'How's your arm?'
He looked down at it in confusion. 'Um---I don't know. Sore? I can't really feel anything.'
Oh, Sam, come on, she thought. Come and talk to him. Come and check him over.
But then Maggie Donnelly, Adam's wife, appeared and crouched down and asked him a few questions, then went back to Sam, who shook his head. Oh, no, Sam, she thought, because she'd heard Jamie's answers, and she didn't like them.
She went to Sam, taking his hand and gripping it tight. 'They have to take him to hospital, Sam,' she said, backing the paramedic up. 'Maggie's right, they have to get him checked over properly, make sure you haven't missed anything.'
'I can do it.'
'No, Sam, you can't,' she said firmly. 'He's your brother. You're too close. Just go with him and be with him, and I'll go and tell your mother what's happening and wait with her, OK?'
He hesitated for an age, then nodded. 'OK. How will you get back down to town?'
She smiled. 'I'm sure I can convince the patrol car to drop me off.'
He nodded, then, ignoring the onlookers, he bent his head and kissed her. 'Thank you. And thanks for going to Mum. Don't tell her too much.'
She smiled ruefully. 'I won't. Go on, go and look after him. He needs you. He's pretty shaken up. Are you all right to drive?'
He nodded again. It seemed to be all he could do. Words were deserting him and all he could see was the car flying through the air with his brother inside it. He could have been killed, and Gary might already be dead.
'Right, come on, let's go, we'll follow you, but pull over if he deteriorates,' Maggie said, and Sam got into his car beside Jamie, fastened his seat belt for him and then followed the ambulance back to St Piran's.
It was after three before they got home, and Gemma was sitting up with Linda in the kitchen drinking what felt like their hundredth cup of tea as the car pulled up.
'Oh, that's Sam. Gemma, make sure---see if he's brought Jamie.'
Her face crumpled, and Gemma hugged her swiftly and went out of the front door in time to see Jamie unfolding himself stiffly from the front seat, his left arm in a sling and with a back-slab on it, and steristrips on his cheekbone.
'Jamie's here,' she called back, and she heard Linda's sob of relief. She smiled at the young man as he stepped inside, trying not to wince at the rapidly emerging bruises on his face. Linda was going to have a fit. 'Hi, sport, how are you?' she asked gently.
'Sore,' he said, still sounding shaken, 'and I just want to go to sleep but Sam won't let me.'
'You can go to sleep, but I'm going to keep waking you,' Sam warned, 'just to be on the safe side.'
'But I don't want to wake up.'
'I know. Neither do I. But I need to make sure you're all right. You've had a head injury, Jamie, you need to be checked regularly.'
Then Linda was gathering her errant son gently into her arms and sobbing, and Jamie was patting her awkwardly and trying not to cry, and Gemma could see that Sam was struggling, too.
And it had all been so horribly, stupidly unnecessary.
'How's Gary?' she asked Sam in a low voice, and he shrugged.
'Touch and go. Ben Carter filled me in. He's got a shattered pelvis, a flail chest with penetrating rib injuries and a head injury---and that's just the obvious stuff. They're stabilising him, but he's got weak reflexes in his legs and he may have permanent damage to his spinal cord. They're going to scan him when he's stable, but he's on steroids now and they're fighting to keep him alive. The rest will sort itself out if he makes it.'
'Does Jamie know?'
'Yes. He saw him briefly in Resus, but Gary was out of it. He just needed to know he was alive.'
She rubbed his arm comfortingly. 'Sam, I'm so sorry. I'll go now. Call me if there's anything I can do.'
'Sure. Thanks, you're a star.'
He kissed her briefly on the cheek, his hand resting a moment longer on her shoulder, then he turned back to his family to pick up the pieces of yet another crisis.
How much more? How much more could he be asked to take? And how could she even conceivably put any more on him?
She left them to it and went home to bed, only to find the chocolate sauce bowl had been upended in the middle of her bed in all the confusion, and she thought of Sam making love to her, and the conversation they'd been having which had been so violently interrupted---a conversation they had yet to finish.
And she desperately needed to get to bed, but it was trashed, and the spare bed wasn't made up.
Pulling the bedding off, she carried it back downstairs, stuffed the sheet into the washing machine and took the quilt into the sitting room and curled up on the sofa with it snuggled round her. She was cold, she realised, and shaking with reaction now it was all over and there was nothing more to do. She could feel the sobs rising in her chest and she tried to hold them back, but she could still see Gary fitting, the terrible moments as he fought for his young life, and suddenly it was all too much.
'Oh, Sam, I need you,' she sobbed. Cuddling the bedding closer, she buried her face in it, in the scent of Sam's body, and wept for Gary and his family, and the close call Jamie had had, and Sam, struggling to hold it all together---and above all, the senselessness of the illness that had taken her away from him and wasted the last eleven years...
'How are things?'
Sam gave her a weary smile, pushed her backwards into her treatment room and closed the door, then pulled her into his arms and held her without speaking for several minutes.
'Are you OK?' she asked softly, and he nodded, his head moving against her shoulder.
'I'll be fine.'
'And Jamie? I didn't like to ask too much last night, but I've been wondering.'
'He's OK. He's very sore, and he's got some spectacular bruises, but they did an ultrasound aorta scan and X-rayed him all over and---well, he's fine. He's got several fractures in his lower arm and wrist and hand, and his sternum's really bruised from the seat belt, but on the whole he's been incredibly lucky. Unlike Gary.'
She sighed and rubbed his back comfortingly. 'Poor Amanda. Nick's been to see her at the hospital and she's devastated. She said everyone's going to think he's got his just deserts, but she's heartbroken. She's such a sweet woman, but hopelessly ineffectual. According to Nick her husband's a total waste of space, and she keeps letting him back every time he's out of prison. But at least she's got proper contraceptive cover now, so she's not still getting pregnant every time he's out, and maybe the other children will learn by Gary's mistakes and there might be a better chance for them.'
Sam let out his breath on a harsh sigh. 'Maybe. At least he can't hurt anyone else for a while now.'
'No. Amanda said that herself, apparently. Poor woman. Oh, well, if he survives maybe it'll be the making of him.' She straightened up and looked into Sam's red-rimmed, exhausted eyes. 'You don't look as if you had much sleep. What are you doing here? You should be at home in bed. They aren't expecting you.'
'I've brought Jamie in,' he explained. 'He needs another X-ray and a proper cast. Gabriel's just checking him over for me. Could you put the cast on? My left hand's not very useful, I might squeeze it too tight. No feedback.'
'Of course.'
She went down to the X-ray room with him and she and Sam looked at the plates with Gabriel while Jamie sat on the chair and stared blankly at the wall opposite, his battered face expressionless.
'Well, it looks good,' Gabriel said, studying the films on the light box. 'Nothing displaced. See here, a clean break of the radius and ulna, and two of the carpals, here and here, and the scaphoid and first metatarsal both have very fine cracks, but he's been lucky and I think he can have a proper cast now. There's only a little swelling. He'll need the thumb held out to keep the scaphoid aligned, but he should be OK. It'll need another X-ray in two weeks to check the alignment.'
'Great. Thank you, Gabriel. So, Gemma, can you plaster it for him?'
'Sure. Come on, Jamie, let's see what we can do. What colour do you want?'
'I don't care,' he said tonelessly, so she went for dark blue, and swiftly and carefully wrapped his arm in the fibreglass cast, checking it was comfortable and making him wiggle his fingers slightly, then glanced up at Sam. 'Happy with the position?'
'Very. You've done a lovely job, thank you.'
'Thank the time I spent in A and E doing nothing else,' she said, then smiled at Jamie. 'Right, you'll do,' she said, squeezing his shoulder in support. 'Keep it up, rest it and wiggle your fingers every few minutes. And don't get the cast wet, don't stick anything down it if it gets itchy and tell someone if it gets too tight or too loose or if your fingers swell or discolour. OK?'
'I'm fine,' he said, not looking at her, and she could see he was at the end of his rope.
'Take him home, Sam, put him to bed---and get some sleep yourself,' she said softly. 'You both look done in.'
'I can't sleep,' Jamie said. 'I just keep seeing it.'
Sam put an arm gently round his shoulders. 'You'll be all right. Come on, mate, let's go home and see if we can find a DVD.'
She watched them go, and Kate came out of the office and shook her head. 'Poor boy. He must be so upset.'
'He is---I think he feels guilty because he's got away with it so lightly in comparison. I've just been putting a cast on for him to replace the back-slab. Which reminds me, how's Jem's wrist?'
'Oh, he's fine. Back at school and proudly showing it off to everyone. I think he wishes it had been broken! He's feeling terribly guilty about Digger's paw.'
'He shouldn't. Digger's fine, he's spending all his time on Linda's knee at the moment, and now Jamie's hurt he'll be snuggled up to him as well, so he's got plenty of company while he heals. He'll be spoilt rotten.'
She watched Sam through the glass doors as he put Jamie in the car and then drove away, and she wondered how long it would be before they could spend any time alone together, and when, if ever, they'd finish that long-overdue conversation...
'It's been really odd at school today---quiet. Nobody likes Gary, but they all remember him, and of course the middle brother's still there. It's as if everyone's holding their breath, waiting for the news.'
'Mmm.' Kate nodded at Rob and stirred the teapot thoughtfully. 'Jem said how strange it was without Tel and Tassie. They're above him and Matthew, of course, but he knows Tel.' She didn't let herself dwell on how he'd been so badly bullied by him, but somehow Rob knew that and gave her a gentle one-armed hug.
'He's OK now, Kate.'
'I know. I'm just so glad he's got Matthew for a friend.'
She looked up at him and smiled, and he stared down at her and for a moment she thought---no. Silly. Of course he wasn't going to kiss her. Although if he did...
But he moved away, and she took a deep breath and poured the tea, and the moment was gone. Rob took the tea from her and looked out of the window to where the two boys were playing in the garden.
'Can I ask something?' he asked quietly.
She followed the direction of his eyes and thought, Oh, no. Please, no. 'What?'
'You and Nick...'
He let it hang there in the air, and she looked down into her tea while Rob waited.
Then, when it was obvious she wasn't going to reply, he sighed softly. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. Forget I said anything.'
She hesitated, then blurted out, 'Nobody knows.'
'Nobody?'
She gave a strangled laugh. 'Oh, Nick knows,' she said, and wondered if her voice sounded as bitter as it felt. 'But hardly anybody else, although that won't last. It's getting more and more obvious as he gets older, and it's only a matter of time.'
She bit her lip, staring at Jem through the window and feeling her heart swell with love. 'It was just once,' she went on. 'A stupid, stupid thing, and I know I ought to regret it, but---I love my son, Rob, and I wouldn't turn the clock back and undo it for anything, because then I wouldn't have him. He would never have existed, and I can't imagine life without him.'
'No. I know what you mean. Losing Annette broke my heart, but I don't think I could ever have dealt with losing Matthew.'
She felt her eyes fill with tears. 'I'm so sorry, Rob. It must have been dreadful.'
'It was---but it's a long time ago now, nearly five years, and I'm ready to move on.'
She looked up at him then, and realised he was talking about her, about them, and she thought, Yes, I'm ready, too. Not for a grand passion, maybe, because there'll always only be Nick, but a gentle love, a caring friend, someone to share things with? I'm ready for that.
'What are you doing on Friday night?' she asked.
'Why?'
'Because the children are both at Alex Pentreath's birthday party, and I wondered if you'd like to come for supper?'
He hesitated for a moment, then smiled. 'That sounds very nice. Thank you. I'd love to.'
'Good,' she said with a smile. 'More tea?'
Gary Lovelace made slight progress in the next few days, and by the end of the week he was downgraded from critical to stable. Not that many of the people in the village cared one way or the other, and not least Mr Polgrean, who was furious about his car and not at all surprised to hear that Jamie had been involved.
And because Jamie was getting better, Sam took him to see the man, to explain that he hadn't been anything to do with its theft and to apologise for all the trouble he'd caused in the past, and after he grudgingly accepted his brother's apology, he turned to Sam and said he owed him one, too.
'This leg business. They said I could have died. You were right, and I had no business bringing up the past like that. If you'd walked away...'
'I could have been struck off for neglect. Let's just forget it and let bygones be bygones, shall we?' he offered, and held out his hand to the crusty old fisherman.
And after an age, he took it, and Sam watched the anger and bitterness drain out of him. He took Jamie home, and the following day he returned to school, to Sam's relief, as he had significant public exams coming up in the next few weeks, and then everything quietened down.
On the home front, at least. Sam was able to go back to work, and it was mayhem, because the tourists were starting to come in larger numbers, especially the surfers, and then Adam Donnelly dropped a bombshell into the mix.
'Maggie and I have decided that the world's a fascinating place and we want to go and see it before we settle down and have a family, so we're going to be leaving Penhally at the end of August,' he announced at their weekly staff meeting.
Amid the exclamations and ripple of comment, Sam wondered what the staffing implications would be---and if Nick would try and talk him into staying on full time.
He wasn't sure, and he certainly didn't know what his answer would be, but that would rather depend on Gemma, he thought, which brought up the subject of the conversation they'd been having when Jamie had phoned him on Monday night.
And it was Friday now, four days later, and he was still no nearer finding out why she'd left him.
But he'd promised to take Jamie over to the hospital this evening to see Gary, and his mother needed his attention, and he would just have to wait. It wasn't the sort of conversation he wanted to rush. There was something she wasn't telling him, something so hugely significant that it had led to the end of their marriage, and he wanted time to talk it through, to get right to the bottom of it and thrash it out, once and for all.
He'd waited nearly eleven years, after all. What difference could a few more days make?
Nick drummed his fingers on the kitchen table and stared blindly out of the window at the dark sea.
He was lonely. Lonely and bored, and he knew Jem was at a party tonight. He glanced at his watch. Ten to ten. Kate might still be up. He could drive past, see if there were any lights on. He wanted to talk to her about Polly Searle---or Polly Carrick, as she now was.
He couldn't remember her at all, but he could remember her father, and he'd been a thoroughly nasty piece of work. No wonder she'd changed her name to her mother's maiden name. He couldn't remember much about her, because he'd not been her GP, of course, Phil had, but Kate would know.
And she was right, they could do with a woman doctor. He hated all the menopause stuff, it was utterly foreign to him and women got so emotional. Yes, a woman doctor would be good.
Tossing his keys in the air and catching them with a sweep of his arm, Nick headed out of the door, locking it behind him out of habit---not that he needed to, probably, with Gary Lovelace out of the frame for now, but old habits died hard.
He drove along Harbour Road past the fishing boats that were all getting ready to go out on the tide, and up Treligga Road to Kate's house. He could see lights on, but as he approached he noticed a strange car on the drive.
Odd. She must have visitors.
And then he saw her cross in front of the kitchen window, and a man---Rob Werrick?---walked into view.
Damn. So he'd been right, they were seeing each other. Unless Rob was picking up something Matthew had left behind? That could be it.
Except, if that was the case, why was Rob looking down at Kate like that? And why...?
Oh, God. He watched in horror as Kate lifted her face to his kiss, then sat, transfixed, as the kiss grew more passionate.
No! But then they moved apart, and he felt a wave of relief, but it was short-lived. The landing light came on, then the bedroom light. And Kate reached up and closed the curtains.
He felt a wave of nausea wash over him and, spinning the wheel, he gunned the car back down the hill and out along the Harbour Road, up past the Smugglers'.
He didn't stop, although he often dropped in for a quiet pint with Tony.
But not tonight. Tonight...
Tonight he just wanted to scream with frustration and bitterness and all the pent-up emotion that was normally locked down tight inside him, and until he had it under control, he was going nowhere.
But he couldn't get the image of Kate and Rob out of his mind, and he was eaten up with a nameless emotion that felt suspiciously like jealousy.
Ridiculous. He didn't even want Kate!
But he was damned if he wanted someone else having her, he thought bitterly. He contemplated going home and getting drunk, but dismissed the thought. There was a better way to deal with his frustration, and it was about time he dusted off his social life. Hauling his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through his numbers, then paused and pressed the call button.
Moments later, it was answered, and he took a breath and leant back, calming himself.
'Louise? It's Nick. How are you? We haven't spoken for a while---I'm sorry, I've been rather tied up. Look, are you busy? I was wondering if I could drop by...'
'HOW'S Gary?'
'Still in a coma.' Sam sighed and dropped into his chair, and Gemma pushed the door shut and went over and put her arms round him.
'I'm sorry. How's Jamie taking it?'
'He's racked with guilt. Thinks he should have done more to stop him, though God knows what he could have said to make him pay attention, when nobody else has ever succeeded. Even Gertrude Stanbury, our old headmistress, thinks he's probably just a bad person, and she doesn't write people off lightly. She never wrote me off.'
'Because you weren't a bad person, Sam. And neither is Jamie. Even if Mr Polgrean thinks you both are.'
'Oh, not any more,' he said with a chuckle. 'He actually apologised for being rude last Monday, because they'd told him how close he'd got to losing his leg, and he realised that if I'd listened to him and walked off, he might have lost it. Or worse. And he even accepted Jamie's apology for getting mixed up with Gary, so it was pretty cosy all round, really.'
'Good grief, wonders will never cease,' she said with a chuckle. 'And your mum?'
'Oh, she's all right, I suppose, but still a bit shocked and she's struggling to get over her own problems, but Lauren's been great with her and she's doing all right. Her hand's still a bit weak and her legs are a little unsteady, but fundamentally she's fantastic, considering.'
'And the dog?'
'He's getting along.'
'Good.'
Gemma perched on the edge of the desk facing him, and ran her finger over his knee thoughtfully.
'So---does that mean you're able to get out a bit more now?'
He raised a brow, the smile he couldn't quite prevent playing around his mouth.
'Well, that very much depends, of course, on what's on offer.'
'On offer? I was rather thinking it might be your turn to do the offering.'
He sat up slowly, leaning forwards and reaching up to pull her down onto his lap. 'Well, now, let me think. How about dinner somewhere? Not the Smugglers'. Somewhere a bit more private, where we aren't going to run into whoever's acting as Town Crier this week. Somewhere like Padstow, or Rock?'
She cocked her head on one side. 'That sounds rather posh.'
A little frown crossed his brow, and he gave her a quizzical smile. 'Maybe it's time I took you out and spoiled you a little.' And then afterwards, when he'd wined and dined her, he could take her back to her house and talk to her, get her to open up to him, tell him whatever it was that had torn them apart. 'Perhaps Friday?'
'Maybe,' she said, but she hesitated. There was so much he didn't know, so much she still had to tell him, and until it was out in the open, she really didn't want to get into the whole formal dinner thing. It just seemed wrong, and she didn't know how she could sit there and pretend that everything was all right.
'How about coming round to mine for supper in the meantime?' she suggested. 'And maybe this time we'll get to finish our meal.'
And that allimportant conversation.
'That would be good. My sister Beth's coming over this evening with her brood to see Jamie and Mum, but I could do tomorrow or Wednesday.'
'Make it Wednesday,' she said, suddenly wanting to stall this whole thing and wishing she'd never brought it up. 'Seven-thirty? I've got a clinic before, so I can't get away too early.'
'Seven-thirty's fine,' he said, and then patted her on the bottom. 'Come on, off my lap, gorgeous, before I get too distracted to work. I've got a rammed surgery this morning, and a load of visits, and that's before the phone line's been open for more than five minutes!'
He was right, it was a hectic day, and Tuesday was no better.
By Wednesday she'd managed to work herself up into a frenzy about their meal---well, more specifically the conversation after it---and the last thing she wanted at a busy well-woman clinic was children running around. Not with what she was going to have to tell Sam later, anyway. And there were three of them, the O'Grady children---although one wasn't running anywhere, and she frowned at him.
Liam. She knew him---and he was normally as lively as a cricket. He must be going down with something, she thought, and then dismissed it as she worked her way through her list of patients.
Until she got to the last, Siobhan O'Grady and her little brood, and then as she ushered the children in, Gemma glanced down at Liam and frowned again. He had bruises on his arm, big bruises, like finger marks, and she thought, No, not Siobhan. She was a wonderful mother. And the father was a nice man, a policeman. So what...?
'Hello, Liam,' she said, crouching down beside him. 'You're very quiet today, you're normally tearing around. Aren't you feeling well?'
He shook his head, and Siobhan said worriedly, 'No, I don't think he can be, he's been so quiet, you know, and he's not the quietest child. And he's so pale. I thought, if it went on much longer, I ought to bring him to the doctor and have him checked out, but perhaps you could have a look at him since he's here with me now, just in case he's picked something up at school.'
'Of course, you're at school now! What a big boy. Can I have a look at you, Liam? Want to pop up here?'
And she lifted him carefully to the couch and sat him on the edge and studied him. And her heart began to pound slowly. 'How long has he had the bruises?'
'Oh, I hadn't even seen them! Good grief, there're dreadful! Niall, what have you been doing to your brother?'
'Nothing! I didn't do nothing, I swear!'
But alarm bells were ringing, and Gemma lifted trembling fingers and felt the sides of Liam's neck. Peas. Chains of peas, running down each side, and under his chin, and in his armpits.
'I think we need to get a doctor to have a look at you, my little fellow,' she said, lifting him down and putting him carefully onto a chair. 'Siobhan, stay here with them, I'll be back in a moment.'
And she went out of the door, closed it behind her and took a long, steadying breath. Thank heavens there was nobody in the waiting room, because she was shaking like a leaf, her heart was racing and she thought at any moment she might be sick.
Her legs wobbling, she walked down the stairs and over to Reception. 'Is there a doctor free?'
'No---oh, yes, someone's just come out of Sam's consulting room. Nip in now, quickly,' Hazel said, and she thought, of all the doctors, but maybe he was the right one, and maybe this would open the gates to that conversation.
She tapped on the door and went in, and he glanced up and his eyes softened and he smiled at her. 'Hello, my gorgeous girl. What can I do for you---? Gemma? Are you all right? What is it?' He got up and crossed over to her, a frown pleating his brow, and she forced herself to smile.
'It's not me.' Not this time. 'It's a little boy upstairs---Liam O'Grady. He's tired, pale, listless, his glands are up.' She swallowed. 'And he's bruising.'
Sam frowned and tilted his head to one side. 'Leukaemia?'
'I think so.'
'Oh, hell. Right. Who's with him?'
'His mother, and his brother and baby sister.'
'Is there a father?'
'Yes. He's a policeman. He'll be at work---he's in the CID.'
'OK. I'll come up. They'll have to take him straight over to St Piran for blood tests, if you're right, and then they'll let them know in the next day or so, I guess.'
Or sooner...
'Has she got a car?'
'Yes. She lives up near me, I see her quite often.'
'Right, let's go and have a look at him---Liam, did you say?'
'Yes.'
And she led the way back up, hoping she was wrong, hoping that Sam would tell her she was imagining it, that this dear, delightful little boy wouldn't have to go through the hell of---
'Siobhan, this is Dr Cavendish.'
'Sam! Oh, I'm so pleased it's you!' Siobhan said, her eyes filling.
He smiled warmly. 'Hello, Siobhan. Long time no see. We were in the same year at school,' he explained to Gemma. 'So, which of these little men is Liam?'
'He is,' Niall said, and Sam, having already zeroed in on Liam, nodded and crouched down beside his chair.
'Hello, Liam. I'm Dr Sam. I'm an old friend of your mummy's. Can I have a look at you, do you think?' And at Liam's nod, he lifted him onto the couch, laid him down and gave him a gentle but thorough examination. And then he pulled the T-shirt down over his skinny little chest, straightened up and met Siobhan's worried eyes.
'It's serious, isn't it?' she whispered. 'Holy Mother of God, Sam, tell me it's not serious.'
'Gemma, have we got any toys?'
'Of course. I'll just...' She stuck her head round the other treatment-room door, where Lara had just finished her clinic. 'Lara? I wonder, would you mind playing with the children for a moment? They're a bit bored in here.'
'I'm sure I've got lots of toys. Shall we go and have a look?' And Lara smiled at the children, scooped Liam up gently and held her hand out to little Caitlin.
And as the door shut behind them, Siobhan started to shake uncontrollably. 'So---come on, Sam, for the love of God tell me!'
'He's going to have to have some blood tests, and then the haematologist will talk to you, but, yes, I'm afraid it may well be serious, Siobhan. I'm very sorry.'
'But...' Her eyes swivelled to Gemma's, desperately seeking reassurance. 'No. Tell me---tell me it's not leukaemia.'
So she had known, or suspected. Oh, dear help her, poor woman, Gemma thought with a detached part of her brain, because the rest of her was screaming in denial and just wanted to run away, as far and as fast as she could.
'I'm sorry, but it's the most probable cause of his symptoms. They'll take blood, and as soon as they have the results, which is usually within hours, they'll do a bonemarrow biopsy if it's indicated, and then if that confirms it they'll start chemotherapy straight away, possibly tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow!' she gasped, sagging into a chair and staring at Gemma open-mouthed. 'No! They can't! My baby!'
'Siobhan, it may not be. They have to test for it, but---'
'But you know, don't you? You know. Oh, God, I want Sean. Can I call him now?'
'Of course you can,' Sam said, but she couldn't hold her phone, far less speak, so Sam took it from her and asked her husband to come down to the surgery, while Gemma sat beside her and held her hands and waited.
And then, because he'd only been at the other end of Harbour Road, Sean was dropped off by the patrol car he'd been in and was shown up to the room, and Siobhan threw herself sobbing into his arms and Sam filled him in on what they suspected.
'So---what's the prognosis?' Sean asked directly, meeting Sam's eyes head on, and Sam shrugged.
'I can't tell you. We don't even know if it is leukaemia. We do know that it's a classic presentation, but that's all. He will have to have the blood test to be sure, and the bone marrow biopsy to confirm it and to indicate the best treatment, and only then will you have any idea---but treatment is better than it's ever been, and children do survive this in great numbers. But you have to have it confirmed, and until then, there's no point in torturing yourselves.'
Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Gemma shake her head slightly, as if to clear it, and then he looked more closely. She was chalky grey, her fists were clenched and her knuckles white, and she was shaking. All over.
'Gemma?'
She jerked to her feet. 'I'll go and see how the children are. You take as long as you need. We'll be next door.'
She went out, closing the door behind her with trembling fingers, and then took a moment to breathe in deeply before following the sound of giggling. She dredged up a smile. 'Hello, all. How are you doing?'
'What's wrong with Mummy?' Liam asked, and she crouched down beside him and swallowed hard.
'Nothing, sweetheart. She just needed to talk to the doctor, and we thought it would be boring for you all.'
'Is it because I'm sick?'
Oh, hell. But experience had taught her that honesty was the best policy, and age was no barrier to understanding. It was just a case of pitching it right, and she had no idea if she would. But she had to answer him, because he was waiting, and so she nodded slowly. 'Yes. She's worried, but she would be. You're her big boy, and you aren't feeling well, and she wants you to be better.'
'So will I have to have medicine?'
She nodded. 'I think so. The first thing is you'll need to go to the hospital and they'll need to take a little bit of blood from you.'
'With a needle?' he asked, his eyes wide, and she remembered that Liam hated needles. Passionately. His pre-school booster had been a work of art to get into him, and had taken her weeks of patient persuasion.
'Yes,' she said, because there was no point in lying. 'Yes, there will be a needle, but they'll be very gentle.'
'No! I don't want to go to the hospital! I want you to do it here!'
And then Sam was sticking his head round the door and frowning. 'Everything all right?'
'Liam wants me to take his blood.'
The frown grew deeper. 'How?'
How what? How would she do it? Or how did Liam know? How had she been so stupid as to tell him?
'He asked if he would have to have medicine, and so I told him the truth,' she said simply, and after a moment, Sam nodded.
'OK. I'll ring the hospital. It might be possible for you to do that. I'll ask.'
'No, let me. I'll know what bottles we have and if we can do it. Liam, stay here with Lara and Caitlin and Niall, and I'll be back in a moment, OK?'
He shook his head. 'I want to come.'
She looked at Sam, and he shrugged, as much as to say, Well, it's his illness, and you know him. Your call.
'Come on, then,' she said, holding out her hand, and when they were back in the other room, he went straight to his mother and climbed on her knee and sat there, watching Gemma as she explained what she'd told him.
'But, Liam, you have to realise that if I take your blood today and they say you need to go to hospital for your medicine, you'll have to go. I can't do it here. So although I may be able do this first bit, I can't do any more. You do understand that, don't you? It's not that I don't want to, it's just that they have special people to do it, and they're very good. They have lots of children there, and they know how to do it so it doesn't hurt and they can look after you.'
His chin wobbled a bit, but then he nodded.
'OK, let's ring them,' she said, and dialled the hospital number and asked for Jo in Haematology, while Sam watched her thoughtfully.
'Hi, it's Gemma Johnson at Penhally Bay Surgery---hi, Jo. No, I know. It's about a patient this time,' she said, and he thought, What an odd remark, as if she knew the person on the other end and talked to them about other things. What other things? Maybe she'd had some training there or knew them socially. Whatever, she was still talking, and the part of him that wasn't trying to work out the sub-text was listening.
'We have a child with suspected ALL---can I do the bloods here? He's needle phobic and we've been working together on this, so he wants me to do it. No, they can bring them up straight away. OK, tell me what I'll need, and I can do that.'
She scribbled down the tests that would be required, and the tubes she'd need, then thanked Jo and hung up, then smiled at Liam. And if you didn't know her well, she looked fine now, he thought, except for something in her eyes, some shadow that haunted them. But what? What was going on here?
'OK, Liam, I can do it here, so do you want to lie down or stay on Mummy's lap?'
'Mummy,' he mumbled round his thumb, snuggling closer, and Sam could see his eyes beginning to fill.
Oh, hell, so were his. He blinked hard and concentrated on Gemma, ready to step in if she needed help, but she seemed to be managing fine. More than fine. Except for the look in her eyes.
'Right. I'm going to put a little strap round your arm to stop all the blood in it from disappearing back into your body and running away from me, and then I can find a tiny little vein and get some out. Here, pull this end and stick it on there---no, bit tighter---that's lovely. Oh, yes, look, here's a lovely little vein. I'll put some special magic jelly on it like we did before, and then it won't hurt a bit. Now, do you know what colour your blood's going to be when it comes out?' she asked, and he nodded.
'Red,' he said. 'Timmy had a nosebleed in the playground last week and it was bright red.'
'Well, that's a funny thing, because when it comes out and hits the air, it changes to bright red, but when it's in your arm, it's actually quite dark, almost purple.'
'Purple?' he said, giggling. 'No, it's not purple!'
'Shall we see? I tell you what, shall we ask Mummy to hold your hand out here for me, so I can see better? That's lovely, Siobhan, just hold it straight on your arm like that. Fantastic. Right---red or purple?'
'Red!'
And with a chuckle, she slid the needle in, clipped the first bottle on and they watched it fill.
'It is purple!' Liam said. 'I thought it would be red!'
'I wonder what colour the next one will be?' she asked, swapping bottles, and in the end she had several, and to Liam's disappointment not one of them was red.
'But,' she said, pressing a swab over his vein as she drew the needle out, 'when we take this swab off in a minute, I bet you the blood on it's red.'
'Wow. That's really odd,' Liam said, resting back against his mother and watching as Gemma wrote his name on all the labels.
'OK, you need to take these in straight away, and go to the haematology lab and ask for Jo. She's expecting you. And they'll process them immediately.' She ruffled Liam's hair. 'Well done, sport. You're a good boy. And don't worry, they'll look after you.'
'What about Niall and Caitlin?' Sean asked, and she could see he was pale and hanging on to his control by a thread.
'Is there someone you can leave them with for now?'
'My mother---we'll drop them round there on our way. I'll ring her from the car. Gemma, thank you so much.'
Siobhan broke off, and Gemma bent and hugged them both, mother and son, then said, 'Right---what colour is the swab?'
And lifting it away to replace it with a little plaster, she showed it to Liam.
'It's red!' he said. 'So I was right!'
'Yes, we both were. Clever, eh? Now, you need to keep your finger on that for a while to make sure the bleeding's stopped, OK? Good boy. Right, here are the bottles,' she said, handing the plastic bags to Sean. 'Let us know.'
'We will,' Sean promised, and he ushered his family out, with Sam following, while she sank down into her chair and closed her eyes.
She felt drained, exhausted, and her mind was whirling, dragging her back down into the vortex, and she had to get out of here. Had to escape, to run away, to forget the awfulness, the fear, the terrible loneliness of that dreadful journey that Liam and his family were about to make.
A journey she knew all too well...
What the hell was going on with Gemma?
Sam wanted to go back up, to see her, to get to the bottom of it, but his patients were backed up wall to wall, and when he rang her room, there was no reply. Damn. And he couldn't see the car park from his surgery, so he had no idea if she'd left the building, but---she'd said she had a late surgery tonight, and he was going round for a meal at seven-thirty, so she should be here.
Maybe she'd taken Lara's room? Or gone to the loo, or made herself a cup of tea. The waiting room upstairs had been empty, he remembered, and told himself not to worry. There were other things demanding his attention, and he could think about her later.
Except he couldn't get her out of his mind, and he kept replaying the scene with Liam over and over in his head. She'd been so good with him, and she'd known so much about it. Almost too much. As if...
Cold dread washed over him as the thought crystallised. No. It couldn't have been her, but maybe a member of her family had suffered from it---perhaps a sibling who'd died? But he knew she only had one brother, and she hadn't mentioned it, and he was sure---absolutely sure---that she would have done.
Unless...
Oh, God. His heart began to pound, and his palms felt damp. Not Gemma. Surely she would have told him? Surely...
But there was a scar on her chest. Just a tiny scar, to the side of her sternum, high up below her collar bone. He'd noticed it last week, when he'd been making love to her, licking chocolate off her soft, pale skin. And he'd seen it, felt it, a tiny hard bump in the skin. The sort of scar that would be left by a central line during treatment for leukaemia.
He stood up and went over to the window, staring out across the headland at the side, past the building work which was still in progress, but he didn't see anything except the scar, and the look in her eyes as she'd taken Liam's blood and comforted his parents and calmly told them what to expect.
Because she knew, he realised, every inch of the road they'd have to travel. She'd taken every step, walked every mile of it---and she'd done it alone, without him.
But when? Surely not then? Surely that wasn't why? She hadn't been ill---had she?
He cast his mind back, trying to pick up clues from their time together that summer, but he could only remember the good times. The laughter, the loving, long into the night, so that the next day he could hardly wake her.
Because she'd been so tired.
And he'd chased her up the beach and back to the house, laughing and giggling, and she'd turned just as she'd been going in and she'd missed the step and hit her shin, and she'd come up with a hell of a bruise.
She'd hit it hard, but---that hard? Hard enough to turn her shin black? It only took one little vessel to rupture, but what if it had been more than that? And she'd had a niggling cough, too---a cold that seemed to linger. She'd been working hard for her A levels, and she'd said she was run down, but it just didn't clear.
He went back to his desk, logged into his computer and found her patient file. He could look it up---scroll through it and get the answers, but he wanted to hear it from her and, anyway, he knew.
He logged off again and squeezed his eyes shut, the certainty devastating him.
She'd had leukaemia---his dear, darling, precious Gemz had had leukaemia, and instead of telling him, she'd shut him out, let her parents whisk her away, and all she'd left him was a note.
How could she?
How could she have done that, excluded him, when he loved her so much he would have died for her.
He sprang up again, shoving his chair back so hard it hit the wall, and picking up his jacket he headed for the door.
'Where's Gemma?'
Kate was behind the desk looking for something in the filing cabinet, and she hesitated at his sharp tone.
'She's gone.'
'Gone where?'
'I don't know. Home, I suppose. She said she wasn't feeling well. Lara's covering her clinic. Did you want a nurse for something?'
'No. It doesn't matter. Can you ask Hazel to reschedule the rest of my patients, please? I have to go.'
'Of course---Sam? It's not Jamie, is it? Is everything all right?'
No, it bloody well wasn't all right, it was about as wrong as it could get, but he wasn't talking about it with her, or with anybody but his wife.
'It's fine,' he said, and shoving the door out of the way, he limped out into the car park, got in his car and drove to her house.
SAM pulled up outside Gemma's house and sat there, unable to move.
He felt sick, his heart racing, grief and anger and bitterness churning through him violently so that he wasn't sure if he could even talk to her. Not now. Not like this.
But she was there, standing at her door watching him, and he could see it in her face.
So he got out of the car and walked up to her door, and without a word she stood back and let him in. He could see tearstains on her cheeks, and her eyes were red-rimmed, but sympathy was a long way down his list of boiling emotions at that moment and so he ignored it and walked through the house and out onto the deck at the back.
He couldn't sit inside tidily on a chair while they had this conversation, because frankly he just didn't trust himself at the moment and he needed air, needed space. He heard her footsteps behind him, and turned to her, needing to see her face while she made this explanation.
And it had better be damned good.
'You had it, didn't you? That's why you left. Because you had leukaemia,' he said, making himself say the words although they threatened to choke him.
Her eyes wavered, but held his, and he could see the tears welling again. 'Yes.'
'Why? Why did you leave me? For God's sake, Gemma, we were married! I'd promised to stand by you, to be there for you, but you didn't give me the chance! You just walked away, without explaining, without talking to me about it, and you left me hanging there in free space, with no clues as to why you'd gone, what I'd done wrong. Do you have any idea---any idea at all---of what that felt like? I loved you so much. I'd promised to be with you through thick and thin, and you couldn't even tell me when something was wrong.'
'Because I didn't want to stop you doing all the things you were going to do, Sam!' she said, and he could see the tears streaming down her face. 'You were nineteen, for heaven's sake! Nineteen! You had your whole life ahead of you, and I couldn't hold you back. I didn't have the right to hold you back.'
'Oh, you did. I gave you that right, Gemz---I gave you that right when I married you, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health. And I meant it, every last damned word I said to you. And you didn't give me the chance---'
He broke off and turned away, and then he felt Gemma's hand on his arm.
'Sam? I did it for you.'
'Well, you had no right!' he roared, turning on her with all the anger and frustration and hurt of the last eleven years spewing out of him in a hideous tide that threatened to destroy him. 'You had no right to do that on my behalf! It wasn't your decision! It was mine, and you took it away from me and you took away the only thing that mattered to me, the only thing I cared about, the only decent thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life! And I can never, ever forgive you for that.'
And pushing her aside, he strode out, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he ran down the steps to his car and got in, slamming the door and driving off with a squeal of tyres.
He didn't know where he was going, but he found himself at the beach---not the little cove where they'd shared their love with such innocence and passion. He couldn't go there, it would hurt too much, but he needed to hear the sea, to have the crash of the waves drown out the screaming pain in his heart.
He stumbled out of the car and down the steps to the sand, walking unseeing past the few people still there on the beach, down to the far end. And he sat on a rock above the water and tried to breathe, tried to slow his heart and let his feelings settle, let the grief and anger and betrayal die down to a level he could deal with before it destroyed him...
'Gemma?'
She heard the knock on the door, heard the woman's voice and got numbly to her feet.
Siobhan O'Grady was standing on the step, her tearstained face pleading, and Gemma held out her arms as the woman fell into them, sobbing.
'Oh, Siobhan, come in,' she said gently, and led her through to the sitting room. Not the deck. She couldn't sit out there where Sam had...
'Tell me. What did they say?'
'He's got to have a bonemarrow thing in the morning to confirm it, but they think it's ALL---is that right?'
She nodded. 'Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. It's the most common in children and young people. And it can be treated, Siobhan.'
She nodded. 'So---why do they look at the bone marrow? If it's a blood thing?'
'Because the bone marrow makes the blood cells. And in ALL, the white blood cells or lymphoblasts which have gone wrong don't work properly to mop up infections, which is why children are often run down and unwell. And they often have fewer red blood cells and platelets, which means they have symptoms of anaemia and difficulty clotting, hence the bruising.'
'So---what happens now? Oh, God, Gemma, I can't stand it, my poor baby...'
Gemma hugged her close and let her cry while her own heart was breaking, and after a while Siobhan pulled herself together and straightened up. 'I'm sorry, but I can't cry on Sean, he's falling apart, and so's Mum, and I just needed to talk to someone who knew what I was talking about.'
Oh, she knew. She knew only too well, but that was fine. Talking to Siobhan didn't hurt her, but talking to Sam...
She needed to talk to Sam, but not now. He needed time to calm down, time to think. And Siobhan needed her.
'Now they do the bonemarrow aspiration, and then they go from there, working out a treatment schedule, but he won't be in hospital all that time. He'll come backwards and forwards, spending a lot of time at home between cycles, and you'll get a great deal of support from the hospital and from the surgery, but you just have to take it one day at a time, Siobhan. And you will get there.'
'Oh, dear lord, I hope so, but I don't know how to be strong for them,' she murmured, and Gemma held out a box of tissues to her.
'You'll be fine. At least it's all under way now, and you just have to be strong for Liam. It'll be hard for him, and you have to help him, but it'll be hard for you, too, and you have to look after each other, and the other two children. I know it's difficult, but don't forget about them, and don't suffocate them. And lean on Sean, and encourage him to talk, because men are bad at that. And if you ever need to talk, I'm always here, and I'll always have time for you.'
'You're so kind. Thank you.'
'It's no problem.'
'I have to get back,' she said, standing up and mopping her nose again. 'I've got to do some washing for Liam, and I haven't even thought about feeding us---I've fed the children and put them to bed, but somehow, food...'
'You have to eat. Go on, go home and look after yourself, because you have to stay well for them all. And good luck tomorrow. Keep me in touch, won't you?'
'Oh, I will, thank you Gemma,' she said, and, giving her one last hug, she went down the steps and hurried back to her house, leaving Gemma to her tumbling thoughts.
She went back out to the deck, and sat down on a chair and waited. Would Sam come back, or did she need to go and find him?
What if he didn't come back? she thought suddenly, on a wave of dread. What if he left again, went off back to Africa? He'd said he couldn't forgive her. What if he'd meant it---really meant it, meant he couldn't, wouldn't forgive her, and so it was all over, back to square one, only this time it was his idea and not hers? The pain swamped her, even the thought was agonising, and she felt a sob jam in her throat, trapped there by the rising tide of panic.
She had to find him. Had to go and look for him and change his mind, but where?
The beach, she thought. Their beach.
And she grabbed her keys, slammed the door shut behind her and ran down the steps to her car. She knew exactly where to find him---but he wasn't there. And he wasn't at his house, and she drove round for ages, looking blindly through her tears for his car, but it was nowhere to be seen, and finally she had to admit that he might have gone, that it could be too late.
That maybe at last their marriage was finally at an end.
With the last shreds of her control, she pulled over to the side of the road, cut the engine and began to sob.
'Sam?'
He lifted his head and stared blankly at the French doctor.
'Gabriel---hi. Sorry, I was miles away.'
'So I could see. No dog today?'
'No, I---uh---I haven't been home.'
'Mind if I join you?'
Why the hell would he want to join him? But it was a public place, and he could hardly tell him to leave.
'Sure.'
Gabriel sat down on another rock, the slender greyhound leaning against his leg, and he idly pulled the dog's ears and gazed out to sea.
'I often come here when things seem---confused,' he said quietly. 'I listen to the gulls, and the sound of the water, and things straighten out a little bit.'
Sam grunted. Nothing was straightening out for him, that was for sure. He was as confused and hurt and bitter as before, and it would take more than a few seagulls to sort him this time.
'I saw your patients this evening, by the way.'
Sam sighed. 'Thanks. I'm sorry, I just had to get away.'
'Want to talk about it?'
'Not really. There's nothing you can do, nothing anyone can do. She made her choices years ago.'
'Are we talking about Gemma here?'
He sighed quietly, then nodded. 'You know, we were married, Gabriel. I was nineteen, she was eighteen, and I loved her so much it hurt. And I thought she loved me, so I married her---and then she found out she had leukaemia, and without telling me she just walked away. She just walked away, and she left me a note, for God's sake! She didn't even have the guts to talk to me, and I only found out today by accident.'
Gabriel made a soft sound of sympathy. 'You know, mon ami, maybe she did have guts. Maybe she was misguided, but maybe she did what she did for you.'
Sam grunted. 'That's what she said, but she had no right to make that choice for me.'
'Of course not. Lauren did the same for me. When she found out she was going blind, she tried to cut me out of her life, and gradually I worked out what she was doing---but at least I knew she had something wrong, and I bullied it out of Oliver, and then I confronted her with it. I asked her, if it had been me, would she have left me to cope alone, and she was furious. Of course not! But she asked this of me, to leave her to cope alone because she didn't want to be a burden to me. As if the woman I love more than life itself could ever be a burden.'
Sam felt hot tears scald his eyes, and turned away. 'I'm just so angry with her.'
'Of course. I was angry with Lauren. But you love her, non?'
'Oh, yes. I've loved her for ever. I've never stopped loving her.' His voice broke, and he felt Gabriel's hard, warm hand on his knee.
'Then go and talk to her, Sam. Tell her how you feel, forgive her. And don't waste any more of your lives apart. It's so obvious you belong together. Don't let one mistake be responsible for any more.'
And getting to his feet, Gabriel walked away, Foxy trotting quietly beside him, leaving Sam alone with the seagulls.
She wasn't there.
Her car was gone, and she wasn't there. And he had no idea where to start looking, so he sat there on her step and waited, his thoughts in turmoil. And finally, as the sun set, she appeared, turning into her little parking place and cutting the lights on her car.
She got out slowly and walked up to him, and he stood up stiffly and held out his hand to her, his heart contracting at the sight of her ravaged face.
'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Can we try again?'
'Oh, Sam---I thought you'd gone,' she said, and fell into his arms, sobbing, just as Siobhan had fallen into hers. She fumbled for her keys and he took them and let them in, then shut the door and pulled her back into his arms.
'I love you,' he said brokenly, desperate to sort this out, knowing that he had to be with her, that he had to hear her side of it and learn to forgive her, because nothing else would be right. 'I've always loved you, and I can't walk away from you now. But we have to talk.'
'I know. Sam, I'm so sorry.'
He held her close, rocking her, and gradually her tears slowed and she eased away. 'Come in to the sitting room,' she said, and he picked up the soggy tissues and raised a brow.
'Siobhan,' she explained, taking them from him and binning them. 'She came to say they're doing the bonemarrow aspiration tomorrow, and she just needed to lean on someone.'
'And she chose you, of all people.'
'But at least I know, Sam. I know what it's like.'
'Tell me,' he said softly, pulling her down beside him, and she went into his arms and snuggled closer, loving the smell of sea air and soap and Sam that drifted to her nostrils, needing the strength of his arms around her while she did this, because to talk about it brought it all back, and it had been the most traumatic and terrifying and desperate time of her life, and she'd needed him so badly.
'What do you want to know?' she asked, steeling herself.
'Everything. Everything that happened, from start to finish.'
She nodded, took a deep breath and began with the facts. 'OK. It was the Monday after we got married on the Thursday. My parents had come down on Saturday afternoon and found us, and I hadn't talked to them, but I thought on the Monday when you went back to work that I ought to try and make peace with them, tell them how much I loved you, why I'd married you---but when I got up, I felt terrible. My leg was covered in bruises from when I'd fallen up the steps, but I noticed others that morning, ones I hadn't got a clue about. I'd put it down to---well, to all the love-making,' she said, feeling herself colour.
His breath sucked in. 'Was I so rough you thought I'd given you bruises?' he asked, sounding so appalled that she laughed a little unsteadily and lifted her hand to his taut, stubbled jaw, cradling it.
'No, of course not,' she murmured as he turned his face into her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. 'You were always gentle with me. That was why I couldn't understand it. But then I thought about the cough that wouldn't go, and I'd had a headache all Sunday and I was so tired all the time. Again, I thought, because of being awake at night, but we'd dozed all day, too, so it was silly. I thought it might be because I was so upset about my parents, but when I went to see them my mother took one look at me and burst into tears and told me I looked dreadful, and it was the first time I'd looked in the mirror for days, and I was chalk white under my tan, and I had black circles, and I knew then that it was more than that, that something must be dreadfully wrong.'
'Was that when you went home to Bath?'
She shook her head. 'No. No, that was later, after...' She trailed off, and felt his arms tighten around her in silent support.
'Later?'
'My parents took me straight to see Phil Tremayne, Nick's brother, and insisted he see me immediately. He took one look at me and sent me straight to the hospital.'
'On the Monday morning.'
'Yes. We got there---oh, I suppose it was about tenthirty? And they did the bloods and asked me to wait, and then the consultant haematologist called us into his room and told me he wanted to do a bonemarrow biopsy because he thought I had leukaemia.'
She felt the tension in him ratchet up a notch. 'And?'
She closed her eyes, but she could still see everything---her parents' faces, the kind, professional sympathy of the haematologist, the room where they took her for the bonemarrow aspiration.
'He did it straight away,' she said, oblivious to the tears that were trickling down her cheeks, 'and by three I had my diagnosis---acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. And the treatment was going to take months, so obviously we couldn't stay in Cornwall, because my father would have to go back to work and, anyway, Bath has a brilliant treatment unit, so they packed everything up into the car, and I wrote you the note,' she said, trying hard to hold it together because writing that letter had been the hardest thing she'd had to do at that, oh, so difficult time, 'and we dropped it into the beach house on the way home.'
'But---why?' he asked, his voice cracking. 'Why didn't you find me and tell me? I would have come with you. Why shut me out, Gemz? I needed to be with you, I would have stood by you, come with you to the hospital, held your hand, stayed at your bedside.'
'Of course you would,' she said sadly, hating the anguish in his voice and wondering even now if she'd do the same thing all over again, for him. 'But you wouldn't have gone to uni, and you would have sacrificed your chances of a medical career for me, and I couldn't let you do that. I loved you too much to take that away from you.'
He shook his head. 'We could have worked it out. I could have gone to uni in Bristol, just as I did, and visited you every day. I came to see you---did you know? Your parents told me you didn't want to see me, and they turned me away.'
She nodded miserably. 'I told them to.'
He stiffened and turned his head so she could see his eyes. 'What? You were there?'
She nodded again. 'In the sitting room. I saw you outside, and I wanted you so badly, Sam,' she said, unable to hold back the tears. 'I wanted you to hold me, to tell me it was all going to be all right, but it wouldn't have been fair, and I looked so awful---I'd lost my hair again, and I was so thin, and I was feeling really sick, and I knew if you saw me you'd be angry with me for not telling you, and I couldn't cope with it.'
'No,' he breathed raggedly, folding her against his heart. 'Oh, no, my love, no. I would have held you. I wouldn't have cared about your hair, or how thin you were or how awful you looked, and I wouldn't have been angry.'
'You were today.'
He sighed and closed his eyes. 'I know. But that was different. Today I was angry because you'd taken away that choice from me, the choice I'd already made to be with you, to support you when things went wrong. But back then---Gemz, I made those vows meaning them, and I would have stood by you. It was a real commitment, and it didn't matter that I was only young. I meant every word, and I meant it for ever.'
'Did you? Or was it only because you wanted to sleep with me and I wouldn't let you if we weren't married?'
He exhaled sharply. 'Is that what you thought? That I married you for sex?' he asked, his voice horrified. 'Dear God, Gemma---sex doesn't matter that much.'
'It does if you're nineteen and impulsive. I thought it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, a crazy idea. I thought you'd get over me. I really thought you would, that it had probably only been about sex---well at least, for you.'
He shook his head emphatically. 'No! If I'd wanted sex, I'd have found it somewhere. But I'd already waited a year for you. All that last year, from the moment I met you, there was no one else---and there hasn't been, in all this time. No one. Because you're the only woman I want...'
His voice cracked again, and he rested his head against hers and dragged in a breath. 'So what happened after the bonemarrow aspiration?'
'We went back to Bath, and I was admitted the following morning. I had four cycles of chemo, over the next five months. I was meant to have five, but they couldn't give me the last one because my immune system was so knocked off that it was taking too long to recover each time, and they were afraid they'd wipe it out completely, so they stopped, but I was ready to stop.'
He hung on tight, and she hung on back, remembering the time she would really, really rather forget.
'Was it horrendous?'
'Not horrendous,' she said honestly, 'but not good. I felt sick---not horrifically, but I had a sore mouth, and so I didn't really want to eat or drink, so not being hungry was probably a bonus. And I was tired---so, so tired. I slept most of the time. And of course I lost my hair, and every time it started to grow back again, I'd have to go back in and have another cycle and it would fall out again. I'd go in for the infusion, then home for forty-eight hours, then back in, in isolation, until my bone marrow had recovered, then I'd have a week or two at home before the next time. And they checked my bone marrow every time, and after the first cycle I was in remission, which is what they expect, but they have to go on to make sure they've got every last cell.'
'And have they?' he asked, and she could feel the tension building in him as he waited for her reply.
'Yes. I've been clear ever since, and they gave me the all-clear at five years, but they still test me every year---it's only a blood test, but they keep checking, and they'll do that for the rest of my life.'
'So it never goes away? The fear, the possibility of it returning?'
'Not really,' she said, thinking about it. 'I don't tend to dwell on it, but I suppose it's always there, and something like little Liam today brings it all right back.' She sighed. 'Poor Siobhan. I always thought my parents had a harder time of it than I did, especially my mother. It's really tough on a mother. I can't imagine what it must be like.' And she might never have the chance to find out...
'So what will happen to Liam? Will it be the same?'
'Pretty much, I expect. They'll do the bonemarrow aspiration tomorrow, and then if that confirms it's ALL, they'd do other tests to establish exactly which sort, because that determines which drugs they use to target it. And he'll have a series of treatments in a complex schedule over the next couple of years---it's a longer treatment for children, but the hospital staff will get them through it. They're fantastic. The nurses were brilliant to me.'
'Is that why you went into nursing? You said the other day you lived with nurses for a while---is that what you meant? In the hospital?' he asked, as if it had been puzzling him and he'd suddenly worked it out, and she nodded.
'Mmm. I hardly saw the doctors, really, but the nurses were there with me all the time, hands-on and much more involved with my daily care, and it just seemed---I don't know, more me, really. And it's nothing to do with being clever. Everybody thinks if you're clever enough you should be a doctor and not a nurse, but it's so different, and you have to be clever to be a decent nurse especially these days, it's got so complicated.'
'You're a brilliant nurse,' he said softly. 'Watching you today with Liam, knowing something was wrong but not knowing what, but just watching you with him, the way you got that blood from him when he was clearly terrified, but you just distracted him with the colour thing and he was too busy trying to prove you wrong to notice. And the way you dealt with the parents---you were fantastic. I'm not surprised she came to see you. I just wonder that they all don't.'
'Well, today was a little different. I'm not that nice to all of them.' She laughed, but he just smiled.
'I bet you are. It's not in your nature to be nasty to anyone. You were even nice to Gary Lovelace.'
'So were you.'
He gave a soft laugh. 'Let's face it, life was doing a pretty good job of having a go at him at that point, I didn't need to do it, too.'
'No.'
He held her quietly for a while, while she lay in his arms and let all the hurt seep away, and then he lowered his head and kissed her. 'Come to bed,' he murmured. 'I want to make love to you.'
It was dark in the bedroom, the only light the pale shimmer of the moon across the sea in the distance, and they lay snuggled together, her head on his shoulder---the right shoulder, the one that didn't hurt---and his left hand was trailing softly over her, his little finger stroking her skin, because he could still feel with that side of his hand and he wanted to feel her, needed to feel her, to make up for all the time they'd lost.
She was so soft, her skin like silk, and he turned his head and kissed her tenderly. 'I love you,' he said quietly. 'I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. You do believe me when I say I would have been, don't you?'
Gemma nodded. 'I know, and I'm so sorry I shut you out, but I did it for you, Sam, you have to believe that. You had your whole life, your career ahead of you. You'd worked so hard for it, your life had already been hard enough. You'd had your mother depending on you, your sisters and your little brother---for the first time since your early teens you were going to be free to do what you wanted to do, so how could I ask you to take me on as well? I couldn't burden you, Sam. It wouldn't have been fair.'
He'd never thought of it like that, and never would. He would never have walked away, because it---she---would never have been a burden. 'It was my choice. It should have been my choice, Gemma.'
'I know. I can see that now, and I let you down, because I didn't understand about love then. And if I'd told you, we could have been together, then you wouldn't have ended up in Africa, and you wouldn't have been blown up and so badly hurt.'
'I'm all right,' he said, but she shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.
'No, you're not. And you won't be, unlike me. Your leg's always sore, your shoulder hurts if you move it too far out of its comfortable range, your hand can't feel properly, so it makes your job and everything else difficult.'
'And does that worry you?'
'What?'
'Does it worry you? That I'm---disabled?'
'You're not disabled! Don't be ridiculous!'
'I am. You said it yourself. My ankle will never be right, my leg will never be right, I'll always have problems with my shoulder and permanent sensory deficit in my hand which affects what I can do career-wise---but would that stop you wanting to be with me? Would it make you walk away?'
She stared at him, horrified that he should even think it. 'Sam, of course not!'
'Then why did you think that I wouldn't want to be with you? You were ill, Gemz. You could have died, and you denied me the chance to support you, to be with you.'
'For you! And because of that, you went to Africa and got blown up.'
'Because of my own stupid fault! The accident was all my fault, I should have taken more care. I had a duty to look after myself, and I failed. It's not your fault that I was blown up, I should have paid attention. And I'm fine, I can live with it, but I can't live without you, and I'm never letting you go again, whatever the future holds for us, because I can't live without you. I need you so much.'
He turned her into his arms and held her tight. 'Promise me you'll stay with me. I can't lose you again. I just can't...'
His voice broke, and he felt the tears he'd held back for so long forcing their way out past his defences, but it didn't matter because Gemma was holding him, and telling him it was all right, and she was crying, too, her tears hot on his shoulder, like healing rivers taking away the pain in his heart and filling it with love.
But she couldn't promise this. Not yet. Not before he knew it all. 'Sam, it may come back,' she warned tearfully, easing away so she could look at him.
His gaze didn't waver. 'I know.'
'I may die. I don't think so, and I'm clear, but there's no guarantee. And we may never have children---because of the chemo. And if that's important to you, you need to know that there's a real possibility I'm sterile. You need time to think about it, to work out what you want from a marriage, because I couldn't bear it if we got back together again now and then a few years down the line you changed your mind because we couldn't have children and you realised you wanted them more than me after all.'
'No. No way. Of course I want children with you---but that's the key. With you. And if you're clear, you're no more likely to get it back than I am. That's not going to change my mind, my darling. None of that is going to change how I feel about you. Children are optional. You're not. I need you---for as long as we've got together, I need you.'
'Oh, Sam.' She reached up and cradled his rough, stubbled face in her hand, feeling the rasp of it against her palm, real and solid. Her Sam. 'I need you, too,' she said unsteadily, tears falling again, 'and I've missed you so much.'
'No more,' he said, drawing her back against his chest so she could hear the steady, even beat of his heart beneath her ear. 'That's all finished now. We're starting again.'
For a moment they lay in silence, simply holding each other and treasuring the contact, then she said softly, 'Sam---can we do it properly this time? Have a church wedding?'
He gave a low chuckle. 'But we're still married, sweetheart. We don't need to get married again.'
She tipped her head back. 'I know, but---I'd just like to do it properly, with our families, and our friends.'
He smiled. 'In the church, I suppose?'
'Can we? Have a church blessing?'
'If that's what you'd like.'
'It is---on our wedding anniversary,' she said, getting into it, because not having a proper wedding with their loved ones there to hear their vows in public was one of the things she'd always regretted. 'Can we do that?'
'Sure. And maybe this time, when I say my vows, you'll trust me enough to believe me.'
'Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry,' she said, filled with endless regret.
'I know. So am I. But we're getting another chance, so let's use it wisely, and talk to each other. Promise?'
She smiled at him, her eyes shining. 'I promise.'
Their wedding anniversary dawned bright and clear, a glorious sunny day in early August.
They had breakfast together on the deck, watching the sun rise, and then she went to have a shower---and ended up with company, Sam smiling that sexy, lazy smile and lathering his hands and washing her, oh, so thoroughly all over, until she could hardly stand, and then carrying her back to bed and loving her until she came apart all over again, taking him with her.
And then she smiled at him and said, 'I've got something to give you.'
'A wedding anniversary present?' he said, puzzled when she went into the bathroom, but then she came out with a little white stick in her hand and gave it to him.
A pregnancy test stick. And it was positive.
He felt his eyes fill with tears, and he drew her into his arms and held her close, wondering why the hell being so happy should make him want to cry. But these last few months they'd shed a lot of tears together, for all the time they'd lost, and these---these were good tears.
'I can't wait to see you with our baby,' she said. 'You'll be such a good father, Sam. We're going to have a very lucky child.'
'With a mother like you, it can't fail,' he said, hugging her hard and hanging on.
And then they were late, and she had so much to do she began to panic, and she sent him away.
'Go! Go on, I want to do this properly, you'll have to wait for me in the church, and Lauren's going to come and help me dress, so scoot!'
He scooted, and went home to his mother's house and found her dithering in a panic because he wasn't dressed.
'You'll be late!' she scolded, back to herself now, and he hugged her and grinned at Jamie and ran an eye over his suit.
'Very smart. Never thought I'd see you in tails.'
'It's that woman you married, wanting to do everything properly,' he said with a grin. 'Go on, go and change or you'll be late.'
'You're beginning to sound like Mum,' he said drily, but he went and changed, because he couldn't get there quick enough.
They walked up, leaving a reluctant Digger behind, and went through the little lychgate to where Jeff Saunders, the new vicar who'd replaced Daniel Kenner, was waiting for them.
And the church was packed, to his surprise. Gemma's parents were waiting in the porch for him, and Gemma's mother came up to him and hugged him.
'I'm so sorry I sent you away. Please forgive me,' she said, and he felt his eyes fill and hugged her back hard.
'I know you were only doing what she asked,' he said. 'And it's behind us now.'
'She's coming!'
'Oh! Sam, in the church, you can't see her, it's unlucky!'
He hid a smile. Unlucky? He didn't think so. Not after the wedding anniversary present she'd given him that morning. He shook hands with Jeff Saunders, greeted their friends as he and Jamie walked down the aisle and took their places, and then the organist was playing and he turned his head and...
His breath caught in his throat.
She looked beautiful. More beautiful than he'd ever seen her, her face radiant, her eyes shining with love as she walked towards him on her father's arm, and as she drew level with him, he chucked convention out of the window and bent his head and kissed her.
'I love you, Mrs Cavendish,' he said softly, and she smiled.
'I love you, too. But we have an audience.'
He glanced over her shoulder and grinned. 'So we do. Perhaps we'd better get on with it.'
And he turned back to Jeff Saunders who was smiling indulgently, and nodded.
'Dearly beloved, we're gathered her today to bless the marriage of Gemma and Sam, and to give them an opportunity to make their vows again, in front of you, their family and friends, to cement their marriage and help them make a fresh start on this their journey together.'
And then Sam turned to her, took her hands and stared into her eyes.
'I, Samuel, take you, Gemma, to be my wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. I promise to love and honour you, to trust you, to listen to you, to talk to you, to share my worries and my joys, and to be here for you, no matter what, as long we're both alive. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours. I love you.'
They'd written the words themselves, but as Gemma repeated them back to him, her voice caught.
'...in sickness...'
She faltered, and he held her hands as she lifted her eyes to his again, and went on, 'In sickness and in health, till death do us part. I promise to love and honour you, to trust you, to listen to you, to talk to you, to share my worries and my joys, and to be here for you, no matter what, as long we're both alive. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours. I love you.'
And with tears in their eyes, they went into each other's arms and held on tight, through all the readings, through the hymns, and through the final prayer, then, letting go, they joined their hands and turned back towards their family and friends, and took the first step of their onward journey.
Together...
Anne Fraser was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child, she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the Health Sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE PLAYOY DOCTOR'S SURPRISE PROPOSAL
FALLING FOR HER MEDITERRANEAN BOSS
POSH DOC CLAIMS HIS BRIDE
HER VERY SPECIAL BOSS
DR CAMPBELL'S SECRET SON
ANNIE slid into a pew of the cool, cavernous Spanish church and let the peace wash over her bruised and battered soul.
In two days' time, her holiday would be over and she would be returning to England and Penhally Bay. Which meant work and reality.
Despite her parents' entreaties that she join them on at least part of their Christmas and New Year worldwide cruise, Annie had insisted that she wanted to take this break on her own. Once and for all, she had told them gently, she needed to put her heartache behind her, including the break-up with her fiancé Robert and especially the horribly cruel reason behind it. The last thing she needed was to be on a luxury liner filled with happy families or, even worse, spend Christmas in Scotland with her sister Fiona and her young family. Even staying in Penhally Bay for the holiday season would be more than she could bear.
But her holiday to the small whitewashed village in Andalucia had helped. She had spent the days tramping the narrow streets and walking the hills, tiring herself out until she had fallen into bed too exhausted even to dream. Although nothing would ever take away the terrible void in her life, she was beginning to feel she could face the future. Whatever it might bring.
A group of excited children accompanied by a heavily pregnant woman disturbed the silence. As Annie looked at the brown-faced children with their heads of shiny dark hair, she felt her heart tighten. One little girl in particular caught her attention. Unlike the others, she was subdued, her thumb stuck in her mouth as she looked about her with wide-eyed solemnity. She hung back from the rest of the group, resisting the pregnant woman's attempts to pull her into the circle.
Annie followed the youngsters with her eyes, wondering once more what it would have been like if she had been able to have children of her own. She eyed the expectant mother's bump enviously. She must be nearly at term and Annie would have given anything to be in her position.
She would even have been prepared to adopt. God knew, there were enough children out there who needed the pent-up love Annie had to give and she knew she would have made a good mum, if only she had been given the chance. She sighed. But men didn't seem to think that way. Was it so very different for them? After she had accepted that she'd never be able to conceive naturally, she had suggested to Robert that they consider adoption. But he had been horrified at the idea, and over the following months he had withdrawn from her bit by bit until she had finally forced the truth out of him. He couldn't face a future without children. His own children. It had been a double blow to her when he had left. She had thought he had loved her. Well, no more. From now on it was just her, by herself. And she would manage. More than manage, she told herself firmly. She would throw herself into her work at Penhally Bay. She would make a good life on her own. It was the start of a new year and a new beginning. Of that she was determined.
Squaring her shoulders, Annie slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. She had only taken a few steps when she heard a cry of pain ringing out and she swung round to see the heavily pregnant woman bent over, clutching at her stomach.
Instantly, Annie was by her side.
'What is it?' she asked. 'Are you okay?'
The woman stared at Annie with enormous brown eyes stretched with pain and fear.
'Bebé,' she gasped. And then doubled over again.
'When is your baby due?' Annie asked, keeping her voice calm, but the woman just frowned at her and shook her head. It was obvious she spoke no English. Annie bit back a sigh of frustration. Although she had learned a few words of Spanish, it wasn't up to the demands of the occasion. She needed someone to translate. And soon.
'She say the baby is coming. Now.'
Annie placed a hand on the woman's abdomen and felt the contractions. She counted slowly. They were coming one after the other, at two-minute intervals. She was absolutely right. The baby was on its way.
Annie lowered herself to the level of the little girl. 'What's your name, sweetheart?'
'Maria.' She gestured to the woman. 'This is my cousin, Señora Lopez.' She removed her thumb for only as long as it took to impart the information.
'Okay, Maria, I need you to be my helper. Can you do that?' When the little girl nodded her head, Annie continued, raising her voice above the babble of excited voices.
'Has your cousin other children?'
Maria nodded again. 'Three.'
'Ask her if they were normal deliveries. Then find out if anyone has a phone. We need to call an ambulance.'
An older woman with a nut-brown face pulled a mobile out of the pocket of her cavernous overall and, muttering something frustratingly incomprehensible to Annie, punched numbers into the phone. Hopefully she was calling an ambulance.
In the meantime, Maria had spoken to the labouring woman and listened to her reply.
'She say her other children all come quickly. This baby not supposed to be here for another few weeks.'
'Okay Maria, Well done. I need to find somewhere private for Mrs Lopez to lie down. Could you ask if there is such a place?'
As Maria spoke to the watching, chattering audience, Annie felt her hand being squeezed tightly as another contraction racked Señora Lopez's body. It was clear that the baby was going to be born right here. Annie guessed it would take time they didn't have for the ambulance to get here from the nearest town. The narrow, winding roads weren't built for speed.
Suddenly the crowd of chattering women parted and a darkhaired man pushed his way through. Annie only had time to note deep brown eyes and high cheekbones. The man spoke in rapid Spanish to the distraught woman holding Annie's hand and Annie saw her visibly relax.
'Mi hijo,' the older woman with the mobile said, nodding down at him. 'Médico.'
My son. Doctor. Annie felt a wash of relief. At least she wasn't on her own any more. She prayed he could speak English. It would take the responsibility of translating from Maria. Although the little girl was doing her best, waiting for her questions and commands to be translated was frustratingly slow.
The man bent over and scooped the woman into his arms as if she weighed nothing. His mother gestured him to follow her while the other women took control of the children. Annie noticed that little Maria followed behind, obviously feeling as if she had a stake in the drama.
'I'm a midwife,' Annie said as she followed the darkhaired man with his burden to the rear of the church. 'Do you speak English?'
For a second, he stopped and looked at Annie. His mouth quirked. 'Sí. Yes, I speak English. I am Dr Raphael Castillo, obstetrician. My mother has called an ambulance, but it will be some time before it gets here. It has to come from the city and the roads aren't very good. Have you made an assessment?'
'I haven't had a chance to examine her properly, but the contractions are coming one after the other. She could deliver at any time.'
He nodded. 'I think you are correct.' He smiled, flashing even white teeth. 'Looks like it is going to be you and me delivering this baby---right here.'
As he spoke, Señora Lopez cried out again, followed by a string of Spanish words. Dr Castillo responded in the same language as he laid her down on a couch in the priest's room.
'She says the baby is coming,' he said, stripping off the jacket of his suit and rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. 'There is no more time.'
Noticing a sink at one end of the room, Annie crossed to it and began to scrub her hands. Dr Castillo, speaking to Señora Lopez over his shoulder, joined her. It was obvious from the look on Señora Lopez's face that she knew that the baby was going to be delivered in this tiny room. At least it wasn't a stable, Annie thought wryly. Then while the darkhaired doctor finished rinsing the soap from his hands, Annie examined the woman.
'The head is crowning, Dr Castillo,' she called over. 'I'll deliver the baby if you tell her what to do.' She turned to Maria, who had slipped in beside them. 'Go and see if you can find some towels, sheets anything. Something to wrap the baby in.'
As Maria ran off, Annie turned to him. 'How many weeks is she?'
'Thirty-nine,' he said. Although heavily accented, his English was perfect.
'How sure of her dates is she?'
'She is certain. By the way, her name is Sophia.' Then he turned back and said something to Sophia. Annie didn't need to understand the words to know that he would be telling her to push.
Just as Maria and the doctor's mother appeared at the door with a bundle of shawls and scarves, the baby's shoulder appeared. But then, to Annie's horror, the baby's progress down the birth canal halted. It was stuck. She felt her own heart rate rise. Where was that ambulance? But in the same moment Annie realised that even if it turned up in the next few minutes, it wouldn't help. Sophia was in no position to be moved right now.
She looked up and found Raphael Castillo's calm brown eyes on hers.
'What is it?' he asked quietly.
'The baby's stuck,' she said. 'I think we have a shoulder dystocia.' Seeing the answering look of concern in Raphael's eyes, Annie knew he grasped the gravity of the situation. If they were in a hospital, it would be serious enough, but here, without instruments, not even a pair of forceps, there was every chance they could lose the baby. She stood aside to let him examine Sophia while Maria and the older woman watched silently from the doorway. Sensing something was wrong, the labouring woman called out in panic. Raphael's mother rushed to her side and spoke softly to her. What ever she said seemed to reassure the woman and she flopped back down.
After another couple of minutes of Sophia pushing and the baby not making any progress, Annie was certain they were in serious trouble. It seemed as if Raphael had arrived at the same conclusion.
'I'm going to ask my mother to help me pull Sophia's legs above her shoulders. Then I want you to press down just above the pubic bone as hard as you can.' His expression was grim, but his voice was calm. Somehow Annie felt confident that if anyone could save mother and child, he could.
As soon as Sophia's legs had been manoeuvred into position, Annie followed his instructions. With a cry of pain, Sophia gave a final push and the baby slithered into the Annie's arms, giving a gusty cry a few seconds later. Annie and Raphael's eyes locked over the exhausted mother. He grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Annie's world tilted.
'A healthy baby girl,' he said, repeating the words in Spanish to the new mother.
Quickly Annie checked that the baby's breathing was unrestricted before wrapping the tiny infant in a shawl and passing Sophia her daughter to hold.
'Gracias, gracias, Raphael,' Sophia whispered, nuzzling her newborn. She looked up at Annie. 'Gracias, Señora.' In the distance Annie could hear the sound of a siren approaching. They just had time to deliver the placenta before the ambulance crew hurried in.
Raphael spoke to the paramedics as they prepared to transfer Sophia to the hospital, and Annie studied him surreptitiously. He really was the most gorgeous-looking man she had ever seen in her life! His black wavy hair was worn slightly too long and a lock fell across his eyes. He swept it away impatiently with long, tapered fingers. He had high cheekbones, an aquiline nose and his olive complexion showed off even white teeth. He wasn't overly tall, but every muscle was clearly defined under his white shirt. Tailored trousers clung to thighs that looked as if they had been honed by hours in the gym. All in all he exuded sex appeal. Annie had never met anyone like him before. Quite simply, he took her breath away.
'Well done,' he said to Annie over the cries of the infant. 'I am sorry, I don't even know your name.'
'It's Annie,' she said. 'Annie Thomas. And there's no need to thank me. I was glad to help. Although I'm relieved you appeared when you did. I'm not sure I would have coped---even with my two helpers here.' She nodded at the older woman and the young girl, who were now fussing over the baby.
'My mother---' he indicated the older woman with a nod of his head '---called me. Fortunately, I was waiting for her in a café nearby. She wanted to say a prayer before we went home for lunch.'
His mother glanced up from Sophia and the baby and Raphael introduced them. Señora Castillo nodded vigorously and said something to her son in rapid Spanish.
'She says you must come for lunch too.' By this time Sophia and her baby were being loaded onto a stretcher, with Raphael helping.
'Shouldn't we go with them to the hospital?' Annie asked.
He looked at her and grinned. 'I will go with them. There is no room for you. Anyway, you are on holiday, no? I am sure you have other things you would like to do. Even if you don't care to join my family for lunch.'
Annie felt unreasonably disappointed. But whether it was because she wouldn't be able to follow up her patient as she was used to doing, or whether it was because Raphael was about to disappear from her life for good, she didn't know. Not that she was in any mood for romance. Not when she had just decided to get her life back on track. The last thing she needed was more complications in her life.
'What about this little one?' Annie asked, indicating Maria, who remained watching with enormous brown eyes.
Raphael laughed and chucked the little girl under her chin. 'Maria is staying with my mother. She will go home with her. Everyone will be there. It is our New Year family gathering. Maybe you will think about coming and I will see you there later?' He quirked an eyebrow in enquiry and Annie felt a shiver dance down her spine. How on earth was this man having this effect on her? She had only just met him, for goodness' sake! Maybe it was something to do with those intense brown eyes and that body, an inner voice whispered. Maybe it's because she'd never met anyone who looked like him before. Everything about him sent warning signals flashing in Annie's head and she knew the wisest thing she could do was put as much distance as possible between her and this man---and the sooner the better.
As she opened her mouth to protest that she couldn't possibly intrude, Raphael smiled again. 'Actually, you can't say no. Mama will not let you, so you might as well give in now. My mother is---how do you say? Formidable. But, look, I must go. The ambulance is about to leave.' He stared down at her for a long second, holding her gaze with the intensity of his own. 'I hope you will decide to come.' And then he was walking away, leaving Annie reeling.
Sure enough, Mama Castillo was tugging at Annie's arm, making it clear that she expected her to follow. Silently Maria slipped her hand into Annie's and it seemed that she was going for lunch whether she wanted to or not. Well, it wasn't as if she had anything else planned for the rest of the day, and, if she was honest with herself, she'd had enough of her own company. Moreover, hadn't it been one of her New Year resolutions to try and experience more of life? She refused to let herself think too long about the real reason she wanted to go. The thought of seeing Raphael again was irresistible, no matter what the sensible part of her brain was telling her. What could it hurt? She was leaving soon and she would never see any of them again. And what was the point of being wise anyway? Right now, she had nothing left to lose.
'Okay. I'd love to,' she said, finally throwing her hands up in surrender. When Maria translated for her an enormous grin lit up the tiny woman's weatherbeaten face.
They stepped outside just as the ambulance sped away. Although it was winter, the sun was high in the sky and Annie could feel it warming her skin. She felt a shiver of anticipation. This holiday was turning out to be not at all what she had expected!
Unsure of where they were going or how they were going to get there, Annie was dismayed when Mama Castillo lifted her voluminous skirts and climbed onto a small moped, indicating that Annie should jump on behind her.
Annie looked to Maria for confirmation.
'She says she will take you. I will walk. It is not far. Just up there.' Maria pointed up a narrow road towards a cluster of whitewashed houses. 'In the hills,' she added.
'Could I not walk with you?' Annie said doubtfully. But Maria shook her head decisively. 'No, you must go with Grandma. She says it is too far for an English woman to walk in this sun. I am used to it. It is better if you go on the bike.'
It seemed to Annie as if she had little choice in the matter. Mama Castillo looked in no mood to debate the matter. Reluctantly Annie climbed on the moped and hoped for the best.
In the event Annie kept her eyes closed as they raced up the hill, scattering chickens and goats in all directions. For the whole of the ten-minute journey, Mama Castillo didn't slow down once, not even for a group of men trudging up the hill in front of them. It was obvious to Annie that she only had one speed, and nothing and no one was going to slow her down.
When they eventually stopped outside a farmhouse perched on the side of the hill, Annie felt a huge wave of relief. There had been moments when she'd been sure that she wasn't going to survive the journey.
As soon as they climbed off the moped they were surrounded by what seemed to Annie to be most of the village. There were a number of young men, at least two of whom bore a striking resemblance to Raphael, as well as half a dozen women. There were also children, almost too many to count, running around the large courtyard, squealing and laughing.
Overwhelmed by the noise, Annie stood back, feeling suddenly shy. Why on earth had she agreed to come here? she wondered. After a few minutes a stunning woman with thick wavy hair and hazel eyes detached herself from the crowd and came across to Annie holding out her hand.
'Welcome to our home,' she said. 'Mama told me you helped Sophia and her baby today. Sophia is a cousin of my father's so we all are in your debt.' So this darkhaired beauty must be Raphael's sister. Annie could see the resemblance in the high cheekbones and sensuous mouth.
'It was nothing,' Annie replied. 'I was glad to help.'
'My name is Catalina.' The woman continued. 'I heard Raphael was there too.' She stood on tiptoe, looking over Annie's shoulder. 'So where is my brother now? He promised to be here.'
'He went with Sophia and the baby to the hospital. To make sure there were no complications. He said he would come as soon as he was finished there.'
Catalina pouted. 'That's Raphael for you, always working. We don't see him very often. He is supposed to be on holiday with us, just for these few days, but we've hardly seen him. Pah! But seeing as it is our cousin he is attending to, I won't tell him off when he comes.'
And then, before Annie had a chance to say anything, she was being led into an enormous farmhouse kitchen where a large table had been laid out as if to feed the five thousand. It was covered with bowls of fruit and olives and large platters of paella as well as other Spanish dishes that Annie couldn't identify, but which smelled delicious. Soon she was part of the chattering group, absorbed into their friendly warmth that needed little translation. Catalina made some introductions, but there were too many for Annie to possibly remember all their names. It seemed that she had guessed right and the two men she had thought were Raphael's brothers turned out to be just that. Apart from Catalina, there were another two women who were his sisters. Annie had just been guided into a seat at the table when Maria, smiling shyly appeared silently at her side where, after squeezing in beside her, she remained for the rest of the meal. Gazing around the crowded table, Annie couldn't be sure who Maria belonged to. As far as she could tell, all the children appeared to be shared.
During a spell when no one's attention was on her, Annie wondered wistfully what it would be like to be part of a family just like this one, and in an instant the sadness came flooding back. She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing back the never-far-away tears. She would never know.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to find Raphael looking down at her, his dark-winged brows knotted in puzzlement. His eyes had an intensity that made her feel as if he could see into her soul, and as he held her gaze Annie thought she recognised an answering sadness in their depths, but knew she had to be mistaken. What could this vibrant, gorgeous man have to feel unhappy about? As far as Annie could see, he had everything. Her eyes swept the happy chattering family again; at least, everything that mattered.
He leaned over her. 'Don't be so sad,' he murmured in her ear.
She could smell his aftershave and his breath on her cheek was like a caress. Her heart gave an involuntary leap. What was it about him that made her feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush? She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such an instant and powerful response to a man. In fact, she couldn't remember responding like this to a man ever---and that included Robert. Maybe it was the Spanish sunshine and the couple of glasses of sangria that had been served with lunch. Whatever it was, she couldn't deny she was pleased that he was back before she had made her excuses and left.
'I'm not sad,' she retorted. There was a sudden lull in the conversation and her words rang out around the table. To her acute embarrassment, all eyes swivelled her way. There was a moment of deathly silence before everyone resumed their conversations. Annie felt herself blush to the tips of her ears.
'How is Sophia?' she asked, determined to change the subject.
'Mother and baby are doing fine,' he said. 'She told me to thank you again.' Then he turned towards the others and said something in Spanish to which they all raised their glasses. 'To Sophia! To Annie!' If it were possible, Annie felt more selfconscious than ever, and it seemed by the broad grin on his face that Raphael was enjoying her discomfort.
All of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between herself and this man as possible. She stood, almost knocking over her wineglass in her haste to get away. 'Thank you for the meal, but I really think I should be going,' she said breathlessly. 'I've taken enough of your family's kind hospitality.' She stumbled as her head spun with the sudden movement.
His hand shot out and grasped her wrist, steadying her. The touch of his fingertips seemed to burn her skin.
'I will take you. Where are you staying?'
'Oh, no, it's quite all right. I'm sure I can find my own way. My apartment is opposite the church. It won't take me more than half an hour to walk back. And after that meal, I could do with the exercise.' She was miserably aware that she was babbling on, but she seemed powerless to halt the words erupting from her mouth. The longer she was in his company, the more she felt like a star-struck schoolgirl.
'Anyway, you haven't had a chance to eat yet.' She checked her watch. 'It's almost 5.30! You must be starving by now. Please don't worry about taking me.'
'It is no trouble. My mother would never forgive me my poor manners if I didn't see you home. I told you how formidable she can be. I wouldn't put it past her to---how do you say?---box my ears!'
Annie laughed, suddenly relaxing. 'Okay, then. I wouldn't want to be responsible for that,' she said. 'But I insist you have something to eat before we leave.'
'Only if you promise me you will stay a little longer.' Then he frowned. 'But forgive me, I am stupid. You are sure to have someone waiting for you? Back at your apartment?'
'No,' Annie said heavily. 'I'm on my own, so there isn't really a need for me to rush away.' If she were honest with herself, the last thing she felt like doing was returning to the little flat she had rented. After two weeks of her own company, she was heartily sick of it. Besides, there was something about this family group that made her feel warm and wanted. Perhaps just for tonight she could pretend she belonged and forget about her life back home?
Raphael looked puzzled. 'You are here in Spain on your own? Over Christmas? And New Year! How can that be?'
Annie had no intention of telling him the truth. The last thing she wanted was his sympathy. 'I thought a little bit of winter sun would be nice,' she said.
If anything, Raphael looked even more perplexed. 'It is winter here, too,' he said.
''At home, right now it's snowing.' Annie had to laugh. 'I can assure you there is no comparison.'
'Whatever,' he said, grinning back at her. 'I for one am glad you came to Spain.' There was something in the force of his gaze that sent shivers of anticipation up Annie's spine. 'And I know Sophia is, too,' he added.
The last comment was a reality check. Of course, Annie thought. Why would a man like Raphael Castillo be interested in someone as ordinary as her?
It was growing dark by the time they left and Annie felt a pang as she was subjected to dozens of warm embraces and repeated pleas to return and see them again. All in all, it had been a magical afternoon, and she wished she could stay for ever. But, of course, that wasn't possible. She had her own life to return to even if it was a lonely and barren one---in more ways than one. Just as Raphael opened the wrought-iron gate to the road, Maria came running over and flung herself into Annie's arms, burying her face in Annie's shoulder. Annie felt her heart contract as she cuddled the little girl, breathing in the scent of oranges on her skin. What she would give to be able to hold her own child in her arms.
She released the little girl as Mama Castillo called to her with softly spoken words and Annie watched Maria cuddle up, the inevitable thumb back in her mouth, in the older woman's lap. Regretfully Annie gave a final wave, before following Raphael down the dirt road away from the house.
'Who does Maria belong to?' she asked. 'She is such a sweetheart, but she seems so...I don't know...lost.'
'Ah, little Maria,' Raphael said slowly. 'Her mother, my cousin, died suddenly a few months ago. Her father...' he sucked in his breath, his mouth tightening with disapproval. 'He is weak. He left Maria behind. What kind of man is that? If Maria were my child, I would do everything I could to keep her with me.'
Suddenly the warmth drained from his eyes and Annie shivered. Instinctively she knew that Raphael was not the kind of man to give up anything he thought he had a right to. He was not the kind of man she would ever want to cross swords with.
'He must have been in some state to abandon his child. People do all sorts of things that are out of character when they are hurting,' Annie said. But she couldn't really understand how any father could abandon his child---especially when that child had just lost her mother. It was too cruel.
'There is no excuse,' Raphael said curtly. 'A father has his duty. How he feels is of no importance when it comes to the child.' He looked away, but not before Annie read the bleakness in his eyes. 'So now she lives with my family. She loves my mother but she still grieves for her own,' Raphael went on. 'She is sad---like you---but every day she is getting stronger.'
There it was again. The reference to her sadness. Was she so transparent? Or did this man just seem to be able to see into her soul?
They walked along the narrow road, the scent of the heavily laden orange trees that edged the pavement drifting in the still air, the velvet sky punctuated with stars. He asked her about her job, and she told him about Penhally Bay, how much she loved living there and how much she enjoyed her job at the hospital. He listened closely, then he told her about his job in Barcelona. That he missed the countryside and regretted that he wasn't able to see his family more often. He grinned down at her.
'As you can tell, we Spaniards are big on family. What about you?'
'I have my parents and a brother as well as a sister. They both have small children. My brother lives in Australia and my parents are going to stay with him there for a few months after their cruise. My sister is in Scotland with her family.' She slid a glance at him. 'I envy you, having your family all so close,' she admitted.
Once again, she thought she saw a shadow pass across his face. But when he smiled she knew she must have been mistaken.
'It's not all good. I have to put up with my sisters and my mother wanting to know everything about my life. Dios, they never give me peace.'
Before Annie knew it, they were outside her apartment. The nearby houses were draped in Christmas lights, lighting the cobbled street.
She didn't want the evening to end and it seemed as if Raphael didn't either. He hesitated then said, 'If you are not too tired, there is this little restaurant a few minutes' walk away. It has the most excellent tapas. And I am suddenly hungry again. Will you come with me?'
She let her gaze sweep his muscular frame. There wasn't an ounce of fat on it as far as she could see. Where did he put all that food?
'Okay,' she said softly. 'It's my last night. I might as well make the most of it.'
He steered her towards a small restaurant behind the church. It was packed inside, but there was no one sitting at the outside tables in the plaza.
'Do you mind if we sit here?' Annie asked.
'Of course. If that is what you want.' He took off the thin sweater he had been wearing, revealing a short-sleeved shirt. 'But I insist you put this on.'
Sensing that it would be useless to argue, Annie slipped the sweater on over her shoulders. It smelled faintly of a mix of citrus aftershave and the warm tang of his scent. It was much too large, falling almost to her knees and slipping off her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as he leant forward and turned up the cuffs. The gesture was both tender and erotic and as his fingers lightly brushed against her bare skin, Annie felt darts of electricity tingle up her arms.
Raphael studied her slowly, his smile turning up the corners of his mouth and creasing the corner of his eyes. Annie thought yet again that she had never seen a man so gorgeous yet so sure of his masculinity. A part of her, sensing danger, wanted to run from him as fast as she could, but at the same time she knew that she couldn't bear to see him walk out of her life. At least, not yet.
When their order of seafood arrived, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Raphael to feed her small morsels of lobster and shrimp with his fingers. The touch of his hands on her lips sent small explosions of desire racing through her body.
Then, without saying anything, they stood and Raphael took her hand again. She led him back up the path to the front door of her apartment. Knowing that what was about to happen was beyond her control, she opened the door and, keeping her hand in his, went inside.
'Are you sure?' he said. He looked into her eyes and it was as if he knew her most hidden thoughts. Despite the ready smile, she saw something in the depths of his ebony eyes that mirrored her own pain. All she wanted was to give comfort and to be comforted in return. The rest of her life could take care of itself.
'It's not too late to change your mind.' His voice was soft, yet there was an undercurrent that caused her pulse to leap.
'No,' she said, stunned by her brazenness. 'It's what I want.' She knew she was risking danger. Not that she didn't trust him---she instinctively knew he would never harm her. But she could no more resist her need for him than she could walk back to Penhally Bay.
He picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. She shivered as shock waves of desire coursed through her body. She had never experienced lust like it before, but she wasn't naive. She knew what those dark brown eyes were asking her. She didn't want to play games. All she felt was an overriding need to be held in his arms---to have her femininity reaffirmed. It had taken such a beating in the last few months. Surely just this once she could throw caution to the wind and take a chance?
He dropped her hand and pulled her hard against him, one hand on her hip, the other cupping her bottom. She could feel every muscle of his hard chest through his T-shirt and the pressure of his thighs on hers. Flames of desire flooded her body and she turned her face up to his, seeking his mouth. He brought it down on hers, gently at first and then harder as he seemed to draw her very soul. She snaked her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. She was drowning, her legs weak with her need for him.
He pulled away. She could see that he too was shaken by the strength of their mutual desire.
'Are you sure?' he asked gently. It was all she could do to nod, then with a triumphant smile he picked her up and, holding her close in his arms, he carried her up the stairs and into their own private world.
Later, when the sun was beginning to lighten the sky, she lay on one elbow, looking down on him. Asleep he looked softer, more vulnerable somehow. He had been a passionate but considerate lover, taking his time with her, waiting until she cried out with her need to have him inside her before he took her. She smiled. Several times he had taught her things about her own body that she hadn't known. Time and time again he had brought her to a climax that had left her shuddering and almost tearful with release. She traced a finger over his lips, memorising the contours of his face, knowing she would never see him again. But it was almost all right. In one wonderful night he had managed to heal something inside her that she'd thought was beyond repair. And for that, she would never forget him.
ANNIE read through the case notes again to refresh her memory. Not that she needed to. She had seen Claire and Roy several times already and knew their history well. Satisfied that she was completely up to date, she sat back and waited for them to arrive.
The rain pattered depressingly against the window and Annie felt her mind drifting back to the magical last night of her Spanish holiday. Almost four months had passed and yet her memories of Raphael and the time they had spent together hadn't diminished. She could still remember his every touch, their every kiss. It was as if she had found the missing part of herself. The man she had been waiting for all her life. Her soulmate. She hadn't believed that such a person existed---but now she knew differently.
Her heart lurched. Sometimes she wished she had never met him. Because it had made being alone all the more painful, as if she'd left half of herself back in Spain. Annie sighed wistfully, remembering his last words to her.
'Cariño,' he had said huskily the morning she had left. 'If only you had come into my life before. But now it's too...complicated.' She hadn't pressed him to explain. What would have been the point? Still, she couldn't help trying to fathom out what he had meant. Was he married? No---she was sure if he was, his family would have made some reference to it. In love with someone else, committed in a relationship? Perhaps. But it didn't matter. Even if he had begged her to stay with him, she wouldn't have said yes. Not so soon after Robert and all their problems. No, much better to lock the memory of him in her heart. Much safer.
Annie pulled her gaze away from the window and swung her chair back round to her desk. There was no point in thinking of Raphael. She had to get on with her life. Hadn't she vowed to do just that? Besides, the irony of not being able to conceive made her a better midwife. At least she could console herself with that realisation. And her work in Penhally was more than satisfying and enjoyable. It was what got her up each morning, determined to put her own heartache behind her and help the couples who streamed through her door hoping to realise the dream that she would never have.
Like her next two patients---Roy and Claire Dickson, who were being ushered in. Annie greeted them warmly, knowing they were nervous. The couple had been trying for years to have a baby, and finally with the help of IVF had succeeded. Their initial scan had shown not one but two healthy heartbeats and now Annie, who had a special responsibility for mothers with high-risk pregnancies, was following them up regularly.
'How have you been feeling?' she asked Claire, while checking her blood pressure.
'As if I'm on cloud nine!' Claire smiled with delight. 'Apart from that, nauseous and tired and more than a little bit scared.'
'The nausea will pass. Take it as a good sign in the meantime,' Annie said.
Although she shared the couple's joy, Annie couldn't help a pang of envy. How she would love to be in Claire's shoes, looking forward to her first babies with a loving supportive husband by her side. But she wasn't even a candidate for IVF, she thought sadly. And it wasn't as if there was a rush of people wanting to marry her either, but at least she could help this couple experience what she never could. And she found comfort in that.
'Your blood pressure is absolutely fine, but I want to keep an eye on you and these little ones. I'm sure you both know that the first twelve weeks are the riskiest.' Catching Claire's look of alarm, she hastened to reassure her. 'But you're well past that now. It's just that twin pregnancies are riskier over the whole of the pregnancy. But we are going to do everything possible to deliver two healthy babies and right now everything appears to be going fine.'
'They gave us a choice at the IVF clinic,' Roy said, as if Annie didn't already know, 'about whether we wanted one or two embryos put back. They explained the pros and cons, that there was a greater risk with twins, but we decided to take a chance and have two embryos replaced. This way we'll have a complete family in one go, and Claire doesn't have to put herself through it all again.' His grin almost split his face in two. 'I still can't believe it,' he said, patting his wife's tummy with a proprietary air. 'Two babies. Isn't she clever?'
Annie saw the happy couple to the front door of the maternity wing, and watched Claire struggling to open the umbrella over her head as she battled against the slanting rain, She was delighted for them, but it was early days yet. Twin pregnancies had a greater risk of problems developing and although that had been explained to the couple, she wondered if they really understood.
Annie felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. She always felt so caught up with her patients, sharing their see-saw emotions as she followed them through their pregnancies. Although she loved being part of the team that looked after high-risk pregnancies at St Piran Hospital, sometimes it was hard to remember that most women sailed through their pregnancies and gave birth to healthy babies without medical intervention.
But today was different and Annie knew it wasn't just concern for her patients that was bothering her. She couldn't continue to ignore what was staring her in the face, no matter how much she wanted to. She hadn't had a period for months now and she had begun to put weight on around her middle. All the symptoms of an early menopause.
Unreasonably, even though she knew she couldn't conceive naturally, there had always been a faint glimmer of hope that one day she might have a child. No matter how much she had tried to convince herself otherwise. But with the menopause, any hope would be completely extinguished. Annie was painfully aware that she had to see someone about it, but there was only one person she really trusted and who would understand exactly how she was feeling. She would pop in to see Kate Althorp, the senior midwife at Penhally Bay Surgery, on her way home.
Annie enjoyed working with Kate and her colleague Chloe, who were both midwives based at the surgery. To begin with, they had discussed patients they shared over the phone, but over time they had become friends and Annie would often drop in at the surgery on her way home from hospital for a chat. Occasionally the three women would meet up for coffee or supper too.
Making up her mind, Annie picked up her coat. Kate would know what her next step should be. It was time for Annie to face up to whatever the future had in store. Hadn't she made that promise to herself just months before?
Annie found Kate in her office, catching up with paperwork. The older midwife looked up and smiled when she noticed Annie standing in the doorway.
'Grief, is it that time already?' She looked at her watch. 'Six o'clock! I'm due to pick Jem up from football practice in forty minutes.' She glanced back at Annie and something in Annie's expression must have alerted the experienced nurse. 'But time for some coffee before then. You look a bit peaky, methinks.'
As Kate fished out a couple of mugs, Annie wondered whether there was any point in confiding her fears. But if she was right, she would need to consider whether to start hormone replacement therapy and wanted to discuss the option with Kate before she saw Dr Nick Tremayne, her GP and also the senior partner at the practice.
'Hey.' Kate turned and looked at her closely, her brown eyes warm with concern. 'So, what's up? Is Claire's pregnancy going okay? I know she and Roy were seeing you today.'
'Oh. No, that's fine. I intend to keep a close eye on them, but so far---touch wood---everything seems to be going as expected.'
'It's good to see them so happy. They've been waiting for this for so long. I'll call round and see Claire tomorrow,' Kate said handing a mug to Annie. 'But back to you. Something's bothering you. You didn't come here just to tell me about Claire and Roy, did you? C'mon, whatever it is, out with it.'
Annie hesitated. Once she told Kate, it would be the same as having it confirmed. Was she really ready for that?
Kate came over to Annie and dragged a chair across so she was sitting beside her. 'You don't have to tell me, but perhaps I can help?' she said gently. The older woman was always the one everyone went to with their problems. Annie wasn't sure why---perhaps because she always made time to listen and never seemed to judge. Annie felt tears sting her eyes and she blinked furiously. She wouldn't cry. She had shed enough tears to last her a lifetime.
'I never told you this, but I can't have children,' Annie blurted. 'I'm infertile.'
'Oh, Annie, I'm so sorry. Are you sure?'
'Positive,' Annie said, trying to keep her voice steady. 'You know I told you that I was seeing someone before I came back to Penhally Bay?'
Kate nodded and waited for Annie to continue.
'Robert and I were together for five years. We were in love---or so I thought. We planned to marry and started trying for a family. But after six months, when nothing had happened, I went to one of the doctors I worked with who specialised in infertility and he suggested we get tested. There was nothing wrong with Robert but they have a new blood test that they use to check a woman's fertility. Well, the result came back. My ovarian reserve, you know the number of eggs I have left, was so low as to be immeasurable.' Annie's voice broke. She remembered the day she had been given the news as if it were yesterday.
Kate put her arm around Annie's shoulder. Her silent sympathy gave Annie the strength to continue. 'The test is very reliable. A pregnancy, even with IVF, would be almost impossible for me. They also warned me that it was likely that I would have an early menopause.' She steadied her voice. 'Well, I think it's happening,' she said, trying not to show how much it hurt her to say the words. 'I haven't had a period since...' She thought back. 'Well, before New Year. And,' she continued, 'I don't know how else to describe this, but I kind of feel all hormonal, as if my emotions are all over the place. You know it took me all my willpower not to cry when I saw how relieved and happy Claire and Roy are, and that's not like me. Not that I don't care about them, of course I do, but I don't usually let it get to me like this.'
'But it's understandable, isn't it?' Kate said softly. 'It's bound to remind you of your own loss. And losing the ability to have a family is a loss. Just as much as a death.'
'I know all that,' Annie said, 'but I've been feeling so much happier since I came back from Spain. When I was over there, I knew I had to stop looking back and try and think positively about the future. Accept that children weren't on the cards for me and make something of my life. Be happy with what I have, instead of hankering for what can never be. But if I'm right and I'm experiencing the onset of the menopause, it's like having to deal with it all over again.'
'And you are certain that that's what's happening?' Kate said thoughtfully.
'There can't be another explanation. Missed periods. Emotions all over the place, and I swear I'm starting a middle-age spread. I could hardly get into my jeans the other day.' Annie tried a smile.
Kate looked at her sharply. 'All this since your holiday? Hmm. I don't suppose you had a holiday romance while you were away?'
Annie felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Seeing it, Kate grinned. 'You did, didn't you? Well, good for you. It's about time you let yourself have some fun.' Then she frowned. 'If it was fun. Oh, dear, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. You know what I mean.'
Annie felt her blush deepen as she thought back to that night. Fun? Yes, but now one of her most precious memories.
'And, if you had sex, did you use contraception?' That was typical Kate. Straight to the point.
'Yes, I mean...no.' Annie blushed again. 'I mean, I told him it wasn't necessary and he just assumed I was on the Pill.' Oh, dear, this was so embarrassing. Although she felt comfortable discussing most things with Kate, there really was a limit.
'What I'm getting at,' Kate said gently, still looking thoughtful. 'I don't suppose you've taken a pregnancy test?'
Annie was stunned. A pregnancy test! The thought simply hadn't occurred to her. She had accepted that it was impossible, so hadn't even considered it. Not even for a second.
'Well, no. It's hardly likely is it? Not with my history.' Suddenly she felt dizzy. 'You don't think? It couldn't be? Could it?' Although she knew it was impossible, the sudden leap of hope was almost too much to bear.
Kate stood up, all business. 'It wouldn't hurt to make sure, would it? Come on.' She rooted around in a cupboard. 'Off you go to the Ladies and produce a specimen and we'll do a quick test. At the very least we'll be able to rule it out.'
Ten minutes later, Annie was sitting stunned in front of Kate. 'You're sure?' she said. 'There couldn't be some mistake?'
'I'm sure,' Kate replied smiling widely. 'We'll arrange a scan just to be absolutely certain, but there is no doubt in my mind.You are pregnant. Apart from the test, I could feel something when I palpated your tummy. I've seen it happen before. Just when a woman thinks a baby is out of the question. Then bam.'
Annie felt a wave of pure joy suffuse her soul. A baby! She was going to have a baby. She had longed for this moment for so long, and now it was here, she could hardly bring herself to believe it. Now the tiredness, the rollercoaster emotions, the hormonal mood swings all made perfect sense. She hugged herself, barely able to contain her delight.
'I assume you're not still in touch with the father? I mean, you've never mentioned him,' Kate was saying.
Raphael! Of course it must be his. He was the only man she had slept with since Robert.
'No. I haven't spoken to him since, well, you know.' How would Raphael feel about it? Was there any point in telling him? She neither expected nor wanted anything from him and his silence had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing from her, either. Her head reeled. She would have to take time off work, of course, at least for the first few months after the birth, but she had a small inheritance from her grandfather that would supplement her maternity pay. One way or another she would cope. One thing was for sure---her baby wouldn't be short of love.
'God, should I tell him? I don't know. I'm still trying to take it all in. I can hardly believe it myself. But I suppose he has the right to know.'
Annie thought she saw something move behind Kate's eyes, but almost as quickly it was gone. She knew Kate had brought up her child, Jem, on her own since the death of her husband, James. Although it must have been a struggle, Kate had had no choice. James had died before he had even known she was pregnant. All this must be bringing back painful memories for the older woman.
'Only you can make that decision,' Kate replied gently. 'Whatever is right for you.'
'I don't know if I want him in my life, Kate. It's a complication I could do without. Besides, he lives in Spain. Even if he wants to get to know his child, it won't be easy.'
Once again, Annie thought she saw a shadow cross Kate's face, but Annie knew her friend well enough not to ask. Although always willing to offer guidance and support, Kate rarely discussed her own personal life.
'As I said, it's up to you,' Kate said. 'But if you don't tell him, what will you say to your child when he asks about his father?'
Instinctively, Annie knew Kate was right. Whatever the consequences, telling Raphael was the right thing to do, even if he then wanted nothing to do with the baby. One day her child might want to seek out his father. How could she tell the child that its father didn't even know they existed? And if Raphael wanted contact, it wouldn't be right to deny her child the opportunity to know his father. But she had so much to think about right now, the decision could wait. The important thing was that she, Annie Thomas, ordinary woman with an ordinary life, had had this extraordinary thing happen to her. And for that alone she would always be grateful to Dr Raphael Castillo.
After Kate had seen a deliriously happy Annie out, she sat deep in thought. She remembered the day she had found out she was pregnant with Jem. A day infused with happiness but also regret and profound sadness. Her son had been conceived the night she had lost her husband to the first big storm almost eleven years ago. But Jem hadn't been her husband's child. While James had been out there fighting for his life, she had been in the arms of senior partner Nick Tremayne, and the guilt had haunted her every day since. She hadn't been able to tell Nick that Jem was his when she'd found out she was pregnant. It wouldn't have been fair. He had still been married to Annabel with children of his own, but he had found out the truth anyway and in the worst possible way when he had overheard her telling pathologist Eloise Haydon.
Kate rose and went across to the window. It was dark outside and the glass pane reflected back her blurred image, softening the faint lines that had started to appear around her eyes. Although she was no longer in her first bloom of youth, she still remembered in minute detail the passion her younger self had felt all these years ago, and, if she was honest with herself, the feelings had never truly faded.
What if she had told Nick that Jem was his as soon as she had found out? Would he have accepted Jem as his child then? But it was no use thinking like that. Rightly or wrongly she had made her decision and had lived with the consequences. Now Annie had to make up her own mind whether to tell the father of her child. Kate just hoped that her story would have a different outcome from hers.
After leaving Kate, Annie had spent the rest of the night telephoning her parents and siblings with her exciting news.
'Oh, darling, that's wonderful news!' her mother had said. 'I can only imagine how delighted you must be. I can't wait to tell Dad and David. They're all down at the beach at the moment with the children.'
Annie had felt a pang. She would have loved to share her news face to face with her family. Instead, they were thousands of miles away.
'Do you want us to come back?' her mother had added anxiously.
'Of course not, Mum. I know how long you and Dad have been looking forward to this trip. Anyway, you'll be back in August. In plenty of time for the actual birth.'
There had been silence for a few moments.
'Does that mean you and Robert are back together?' her mother asked. Annie could hear the caution in her voice. She had never really taken to Robert and when he had left Annie after hearing she couldn't have children, she had admitted as much to her daughter. 'Any man who behaves the way he did isn't worthy of you, darling,' she had said. 'You are better off without him.'
Annie knew she'd be thinking back to her words.
'It's not Robert's baby,' Annie said quietly. Once again the silence stretched down the phone line. Annie knew her mother was dying to know who the father was, but wouldn't ask.
'The father is someone I met in Spain---a doctor,' Annie said uncomfortably. 'Not someone I'll ever see again.' She felt her toes curl with embarrassment. How could she possibly explain to anyone, even her mother, about Raphael? How he had made her feel as if they were meant to be together? And how hopelessly wrong she had been?
'As long as you're happy, darling,' her mother had said finally, gently and without judgement. 'And you won't be alone. Dad and I will be back to help you with the baby.' After a few more minutes of conversation Annie had rung off and phoned her sister Fiona. The conversation had followed a similar pattern except Fi, while thrilled for her, had in typical fashion come straight to the point.
'Does your Dr Castillo know?'
It was a timely reminder to Annie that there was more than her involved in the life growing joyously inside her.
'Not yet,' Annie admitted. 'I'm planning to tell him, but...' She let the words tail off. It wasn't a conversation she was looking forward to, especially over the phone. There was no way of knowing what his reaction would be. He would be shocked, but would he be pleased? Angry? Disinterested?
'But you will tell him,' Fi prompted. 'You know it's the right thing to do.'
'Yes,' Annie replied heavily. 'And we both know I always do the right thing.'
But she had kept putting the telephone call off. She hadn't spoken to Raphael since the morning she had left Spain, although she thought of him often, hugging the memory of the night they had spent together. If she was honest, she had hoped he would get in touch with her. There had been such a connection between them, she just couldn't believe he hadn't felt it too. But if he had, he would have found a way to contact her, wouldn't he? But he hadn't and Annie had resigned herself to never hearing from him, concentrating instead on making a life for herself that was rich and varied and relied on no one.
After a couple of days of prevaricating, she made up her mind. She looked up the number of the hospital in Barcelona and, after taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, dialled and asked to be put through to Dr Castillo.
As she waited for the switchboard to page him, her heart thumped painfully. How would he take the news? It was bound to be a shock, however he felt about it. When they had made love, she had told him that there was no need for contraception, although she hadn't told him why.
She chewed on her nail until suddenly she heard his unmistakable voice on the other end of the phone.
'Hola! Raphael Castillo.'
Immediately memories came flooding back. She could see his face in her mind, almost feel the touch of his fingers on her skin.
Her hands were shaking so hard she thought she might drop the phone. 'Raphael, it's Annie.' There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Whether it was because he couldn't remember who she was or because he was shocked to hear from her, she couldn't tell.
'How are you? Is something wrong?' His voice sounded cautious.
'No, nothing's wrong. At least...' She let the words hang in the air. Nothing was wrong as far as she was concerned, but how would he feel? 'I'm sorry to call you at the hospital, Raphael, but I didn't know how else to contact you.'
'De nada,' he said. 'Please, go on.' He sounded brusque, almost distracted, as if speaking to Annie had been the last thing on his mind. She couldn't help the way her spirits dipped. How could she expect anything else? If he had wanted to get in touch with her before now, well, he knew where she worked. That night obviously hadn't meant as much to him as it had to her, but it didn't matter, she told herself firmly. She didn't need him. She had all she ever wanted growing inside her.
All of a sudden she couldn't remember the words she had rehearsed, but she knew she had to say something as he was waiting for her to speak.
'I'm pregnant,' she blurted finally, not at all how she had planned to tell him.
There was another pause, longer this time.
'Pregnant? I thought you said...'
'That I couldn't get pregnant,' she finished for him. She had told him it was safe for them to have sex. He had assumed she was on the Pill and there had been no point in disabusing him.
'I didn't think it could happen, but it did!' She couldn't keep the joy out of her voice. Every time she said the words she felt a fresh burst of happiness.
When he spoke again his voice was cold. 'Is it mine?'
Annie reeled. What was he suggesting? That she was passing off some other man's child as his? Or that she slept with so many men she couldn't possibly know which one was the father? She felt the first stirring of anger.
'Yes, it's yours. It couldn't be anyone else's. You were the only man...' She hesitated, feeling a blush steal up her cheeks. It was so difficult to talk about this over the phone. At least he couldn't see how mortified she was. 'You are the only man I've slept with since...' Once more she stumbled over the words. 'It can only be yours.'
Another long silence. Why hadn't she just written to him? It would have been so much easier. But she had never been one to take the easy way out.
'You must be over three months by now in that case,' he said slowly. The pause must have been while he had worked the timing out in his head. 'Why didn't you let me know sooner? I'm assuming you're going to keep it.' His voice was cool. He seemed so utterly different from the man she had met in Spain.
'Of course I'm going to keep it! I would hardly be telling you now if I wasn't. I've only recently found out myself.' She stumbled over the words. 'Just a few days ago, but...' She took a deep breath. How could she explain the conflicting thoughts she had had about telling him? 'I just didn't realise I was pregnant. It didn't occur to me that I could be before then.' She could only imagine what he was thinking. How could a midwife not know she was pregnant? But she didn't really want to get into her medical history over the phone. As far as she was concerned, she had done her duty in telling him.
'And?' His voice was heavy, almost suspicious. 'Why exactly are you telling me now? What do you want from me?'
Annie felt a wave of anger wash over her. She hadn't expected him to be pleased, but this reaction, as if he didn't believe or trust her, as if she had ulterior motives for contacting him, wasn't what she had expected either.
'I'm just phoning to let you know. I thought you had a right.' She laughed but the sound was mirthless even to her own ears. 'But don't worry, I don't want anything from you. Not a thing. In fact, I want to be clear that this baby is my responsibility and mine alone,' she continued. 'I don't intend to keep secrets from my child. I plan to be honest about everything from as soon as they can understand. It might be that one day, when they are older, he or she may want to find you. That's why I'm telling you. No other reason.'
'If it is my baby---' he emphasised the first word '---then, of course, you were right to tell me. But how can I be sure?'
Annie felt as if she'd been slapped. But to be fair he wasn't to know she didn't make a habit of sleeping with strangers, especially not men she met on holiday. She took another breath to calm herself.
'It's yours. There is absolutely no doubt. But if you don't want to accept that, it's entirely up to you. I have done my bit. I'll say goodbye now.'
She thought she heard him say, 'Wait, Annie,' as she replaced the receiver, but she was in no mood to continue the discussion. As far as she was concerned, Raphael would play no part in her or her baby's life. And that was fine by her.
Raphael replaced the phone thoughtfully. It had been a shock hearing Annie's voice after all these months. He remembered every cadence of her soft accent and as soon as he had heard her speak, it had been as if she had been back in his arms.
It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about her every day since the night they had met. He hadn't been able to get her striking pale green eyes out of his mind, her wounded mouth, her pale skin a striking contrast to her luxurious dark brown hair and that deep but unmistakable air of sadness. How could he forget the curve of her hips, the sweep of her thighs, her tiny waist? He groaned aloud at the memory. He had done his best to put her out of his mind, and now, when he least expected it, she was back in his life. Because she was pregnant. With his baby. Or so she said.
He started pacing. There was no reason for Annie to lie about such a thing and she had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing from him. But he had been lied to before and he knew he couldn't trust his heart. It was why he had stayed away from her in the first place, even when every part of him had longed to be with her again. He swore under his breath. If she was lying, he would find out. But if there was any chance she was carrying his child, any chance at all...
He clenched his jaw against the painful memory of Sebastian. Dios! This time no one was going to take his child from him. He had to know the truth and there was only one way to find out.
OVER the next week, Annie mulled over her conversation with Raphael. She wondered if there had been any point in telling him she was pregnant. It might have been the right thing to do, but it had obviously made no difference. She hadn't heard a peep from him since the call and that was fine by her. What he chose to do with the information was up to him.
Nevertheless, she couldn't help acknowledge that she felt sad about his response. Not for herself, but for the child growing inside her. One day, he---or she---might want to know about their father and she would have to find a way of telling her child that his father had shown no interest.
Everyone at work knew about her pregnancy and it was all Annie could do to stop herself accosting strangers in the street and telling them that she was expecting a baby. She was so happy she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But as far as who the father was, that would be her secret. Somehow explaining about Raphael would make it sound like a casual fling---when it had been anything but. Besides, as he had shown no interest, there was no reason for anyone, apart from her immediate family, to know his identity. She would be raising this child on her own and that was fine by her.
Annie chewed her lip. She looked around her tiny home with its double bedroom, minute single bedroom, kitchen and lounge. She loved it. It was so cosy, especially in the winter when she would light a fire and cuddle up on the sofa with a good book, but it wasn't really big enough for her and a baby. The second bedroom would only just be large enough for a cot and a changing table. However, it would have to do. Despite the small inheritance from her grandfather, money was bound to be tight after her maternity pay came to an end. But what did money or any material possessions matter when balanced against having a baby? It didn't. She would have happily given up everything she owned if she'd had to just to be in this position.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Annie wasn't expecting anyone. Sunday was a day that everyone she knew spent with their families. Puzzled, she opened the door to find the last person she expected standing there, a halfsmile on his face.
Raphael! It couldn't be! What on earth was he doing here, in Penhally Bay? And why did her heart feel as if it had stopped beating?
Speechless, Annie stood aside to let him enter, and as he passed her she felt her skin prickle. Her breath caught in her throat as instantly she was transported back to the night she had spent in his arms.
She waved at a chair, still unable to speak, but he shook his head. Instead, he paced her small house with nervous energy.
'I had to come,' he said simply.
'Why?' she said, dry-mouthed. 'I told you there was no need.'
'Because if there is a chance you are having my baby,' he said, sounding incredulous, 'I want to be here for him. He will need a father. I don't even know if you can look after a child.'
Annie felt her temper rise. Just who did he think he was, coming here to check up on her, questioning not only her morals but her ability to look after her child?
'Believe me, I am having your baby, and I'm perfectly able to look after it by myself. I certainly didn't expect you to come charging over here like a knight on a white horse.'
'But now I am here to find out if it is really mine.'
Annie swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. 'You have to make up your own mind whether you believe me or not---although I can't think why you imagine I'm lying to you. As far as I'm concerned, I've told you. What you do with the information is up to you.'
He looked at her with flat eyes.
'You told me it was safe for us to have sex. Why did you tell me that if it wasn't true?'
'I thought it was safe. I never dreamt I could fall pregnant,' Annie replied, trying to keep her voice even. 'Look, I don't care whether you believe me or not. I'm not asking anything from you, so you are hardly in a position to demand proof from me!'
Suddenly the tension left Raphael's face. He grinned, the lopsided smile reminding Annie once again of the man she had met back in Spain.
'Please forgive me. I didn't come to make you angry with me. I want to believe it is mine and as long as there is that chance, I'm staying. Right here. In Penhally Bay.'
'You're staying here?' Annie said incredulously. 'But what about your job back in Spain?'
Raphael shrugged. 'I managed to persuade them to give me a six-month sabbatical. And I have a post for that time in the hospital at St Piran.' He nodded in the vague direction of the hospital a good thirty minutes up the road.
'You have a job? At St. Piran's?' Annie was only too aware that she was repeating his words parrot fashion. But it was all such a shock. At the very most, she'd imagined her staying in touch with him by phone, at least until the baby was born. Then the odd visit. But it seemed she had totally underestimated the man.
'How on earth did you manage to get a job at the hospital so soon? I only phoned you last week.'
'I know many people,' he said. 'I have many connections through my work. In the end it was not too difficult.' He smiled, a flash of white against his bronzed skin. 'And I specialise in high-risk pregnancies. So they were happy to have me on their team.'
Annie sat down in the chair. He could stand if he liked, but she needed something more solid to support her legs, which seemed to have turned to rubber again. He specialised in high-risk pregnancies. That meant they'd be working together. Every day.
'I need to know everything is all right with the baby,' he continued. 'You must be in your second trimester by now. Have you had a scan? Is everything normal? Have you been taking folic acid?' He fired the questions at Annie as if he were an interrogating officer of a hostile army.
'Perhaps you'd like to know what size feet I have while you're at it,' Annie muttered under her breath. Whatever he said, these weren't the questions of a man who doubted that he was the father. Suddenly she relented. He was here now and he was entitled to know how her pregnancy was progressing.
'Please, Raphael, sit down,' Annie said quietly. She couldn't think straight while he was prowling around her like a lion circling its prey. For once he did as she asked and sat down in her armchair, still eyeing her warily.
'Everything is normal, and, yes, I have had a scan.' She stood up, relieved to find that her legs could support her, crossed over to her bookshelf and pulled out the photograph of her scan. Silently she passed it over to him.
She watched as Raphael studied the photograph carefully. A kaleidoscope of emotions crossed his face ranging from awe to intense interest. Then he looked at her and it was if the shutters came down.
'Good,' he said flatly. 'Everything looks as it should. Is it a boy or a girl?'
Annie hid a smile. He seemed determined not to show her how affected he was, but pride---or was it possessiveness?---was written all over his face. Suddenly she felt uneasy.
'I don't know the sex,' she said. 'I want it to be a surprise. Look, Raphael, if you wanted to check up on how the pregnancy was going, you could have phoned me, come for a visit even, but from what you've told me, you're planning to stick around. For the next six months at least.'
'If it is my child,' he said, 'then it needs a father as well as a mother. I don't have to stay here, you can come back with me to Spain. It will be better. You can stop work, stay with my family.'
Annie shook her head, dismayed. 'You can't be serious.' She gave a small laugh. 'Why on earth would I want to do that? My life is here. My job, my friends, my family. My baby will be born here and live here. We don't need you to support us. Is that the reason you think I called? So you would come running with financial support?'
Annie was trying hard to keep her tone even. Just who did he think he was to come barging back into her life? Hadn't she made her position perfectly clear?
Suddenly Raphael looked contrite. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'I came in here like a bull in a...how do you say? Field? Shop?'
'China shop,' Annie answered automatically.
'Whatever. Forgive me?' he said, the boyish grin back on his face. 'It is just that I too want this child very much. I have to be part of his life. Can you understand?'
'Yes. Of course. It's just that I wasn't expecting you to come rushing over here, taking a job. Speaking of which, what happens after your job comes to an end?'
'Oh, I will not go back to Spain---not until I can take my child with me. Until then, I will stay here. It is settled.'
'You plan to live here? Permanently?' Annie said shocked. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't this.
Raphael crossed his arms across his chest and nodded emphatically. 'If I have to.'
'I suppose I can't stop you,' Annie said slowly. 'But I want to make one thing clear---this baby is my responsibility.'
'And mine.' His mouth was set in a determined line.
'I am happy to be on my own. I don't want any thing from you---least of all a relationship. Although I guess the fact that you never tried to contact me means that it was never an option as far as you were concerned, either.'
Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. 'We never made any promises, either of us. There were things...' He paused, shaking his head. 'It just couldn't be.'
He was right, of course. There hadn't been any promises on either side, but that hadn't stopped her hoping he would get in touch, even while she knew she had nothing to offer him.
'Where will you live?' Annie asked, dragging her thoughts back to the present.
'I have taken a room in a hotel near the hospital for the time being, but I will look for a place here in Penhally Bay. I want to keep an eye on you and the pregnancy.'
Annie's thoughts were all over the place. He was here and if that wasn't a big enough shock, he was planning to stay.
'I should tell you that I have consulted a lawyer, in Spain as well as in the UK. I'm going to ask for shared access. No one is going to stop me seeing my child.'
Annie looked at him, aghast. Her growing feeling of unease was spot on. He was here and determined to interfere with her life. It was one thing letting him know he was going to be a father, quite another him demanding legal access. Too late, the memory of the words he had spoken in Spain came rushing back. 'If she were my child,' he had said referring to Maria, 'nothing and no one would stop me claiming what belongs to me.' At the time his words had meant little but now they burnt into her brain, sending a frisson of fear down her spine. What on earth had she done? And what could she do about it now?
ANNIE studied the CTG of the pregnant woman whose labour she was monitoring for the umpteenth time. Although the contractions were still several minutes apart, the baby's heartbeat kept slowing down. Over the last couple of hours it had returned to normal within a few seconds, but this time the baby's heart rate stayed slow. The baby was clearly in distress and Annie knew that the mother should be delivered right now. Making up her mind, she asked one of the staff midwives to page the on-call consultant and let them know they were needed straight away.
While she waited, Annie explained to her patient that it was likely she would need to have a C-section.
Audrey looked at her with frightened eyes. 'I really wanted a natural birth,' she said.
'I know you did,' Annie said softly. She had been involved with Audrey's pregnancy all the way through and had helped her put a birth plan together.
'But sometimes things don't turn out the way we'd hoped. This is the best for your baby. And that's what's important in the end, isn't it? We should be able to give you a spinal, so at least you'll be awake to welcome your child into the world.'
Audrey sought her husband's hand. 'Of course you're right. All that matters is that my baby is okay.' She grimaced as another contraction hit her. 'I trust you to decide what's right for us,' she told Annie once the wave of pain had passed.
During the contraction, Annie had been watching the baby's heartbeat on the monitor. As before, it slowed down, but this time it was almost three minutes before the heart rate returned to normal. Where was the obstetrician? She tried to remember who was on call for labour ward, but couldn't. There had been so many changes recently with people going on leave, it was hard to keep up
Just as she was about to ask Julie, her fellow midwife, to call the consultant again, Raphael strode into the room.
'Someone paged me,' he said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Annie was in the room. Although she had known she'd bump into him sooner rather than later, she was unprepared for the way her heart started pounding in her chest.
'It was me, Dr Castillo,' Annie said, thankful her voice didn't betray the unsteady beating of her heart. 'Audrey's baby is having repeated prolonged decelerations. She's only 5 cms. I think we need to get her delivered straight away.' She handed the CTG printout to Raphael, who studied it for a few moments before nodding.
'You're absolutely right,' he said. 'We need to get Audrey to theatre straight away. Could someone let the anaesthetist know we need him to do a spinal? Come on, let's get going.' As everyone reacted to his words, he bent over Audrey. 'Try not to worry. We'll have your baby out and in your arms shortly.'
There wasn't time in the next few minutes for Annie to think about anything except her patient. Quickly she and Julie, with a few words of reassurance to Audrey and her husband, started wheeling the bed down to theatre. Minutes later, Annie was washing her hands next to Raphael while he scrubbed up.
'Excellent call,' he said approvingly. 'It's good that you didn't wait any longer before calling me.'
'I have been a midwife for several years, Dr Castillo.'
Raphael arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Annie followed him into theatre.
Annie stood back ready to receive Audrey's baby while Raphael, after checking with the anaesthetist that Audrey's lower body was suitably numb, cut into the abdomen and then into the uterus. They all waited with bated breath as he pulled out the baby. There was a second of complete stillness before a lusty cry of rage broke the silence. Everyone smiled. Raphael passed the baby across to Annie who promptly wrapped it in a blanket before checking that the airway was clear.
'You have a beautiful baby boy,' she said to Audrey, passing her the newborn to hold. 'And he's absolutely perfect.'
While Raphael was suturing the wound in Audrey's abdomen, Annie, a lump in her throat, watched as Audrey and her husband cooed over their son. No matter how many times she delivered a baby, it always got to her, but for the first time in as long as she could remember there was no stab of envy as she watched a mother with her baby. In a few months' time, she would be holding a child of her own.
Glancing up from the happy trio, she found Raphael's speculative eyes on hers and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
'We'll get you up to recovery as soon as Dr Castillo has finished closing,' she told Audrey. 'I'm just going to weigh your son and then I'll give him right back to you. Then you can try giving him a feed.' As soon as she finished checking the baby over, she passed him back to Audrey, and helped her settle her son onto the breast. Happily the tiny infant got the hang of it straight away and was soon sucking contentedly. Annie felt her throat constrict. Damn the tears that were never far away these days. At least these were the right kind of tears.
As soon as she had settled mother and baby in the postnatal ward, she headed off to the staff room. She needed to find a place where she could be alone with her thoughts. How on earth was she going to cope over the next few months, seeing Raphael every day? Yesterday she had asked him to leave, promising that they would talk again, but what could she say to him? That she had never stopped thinking about him and the night they had shared together? That it had taken all her willpower not to call him and that seeing him again had made her greedy for more? That suddenly she wanted it all---a child, yes, but also someone who loved them...both. But she knew that wasn't going to happen. If that night had meant anything at all he would have found her before now, despite what they had told each other.
As she tried to concentrate on her paperwork she became aware of someone watching her. She looked up to find Raphael studying her with an odd expression in his eyes.
'Hola,' he said softly. 'Can I come in?'
'It's not really a good time. I have to finish this paperwork before my afternoon clinic.'
He ignored her and, frowning, stepped into the room. 'When, then?' he demanded. 'When would be a good time? Because you and I need to talk about this baby,' he said. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He wasn't quite as casual as he had first seemed.
'I'm not sure that there's anything left to talk about,' Annie said. Then she relented. It had been a shock seeing him again, but now he was here, and she would be working closely with him over the coming months, she could hardly ignore him.
'Look,' she said. 'Why don't you come over this evening? Around seven? We can talk then, okay?'
He crossed the room and leaned over the table, his brown eyes drilling into hers. Annie felt like a moth trapped in a light and it was all she could do to stop herself from leaping up and moving away. Somehow she found the resolve to return his look steadily. He searched her face for a moment.
'Okay,' he said. 'Until tonight.' And, turning on his heel, he was gone.
As soon as Annie got home, she rushed around tidying up before jumping in the shower. As she soaped her body, she felt the small burgeoning lump of her pregnancy under her fingers and smiled. Then, as she let the hot water ease away the tiredness, her thoughts focused on Raphael. How would she cope, seeing him every day? Especially when the rapid beating of her heart every time she looked at him told her that the connection she had felt with him in Spain was still there. It hadn't just been the Mediterranean sun after all, though she had always known it had been much more than that.
Finishing her shower, she went to slip on a pair of jeans, but to her dismay, and secret delight, she couldn't do up the button. It was time to go shopping for some maternity clothes. She hadn't allowed herself to think that far ahead until now. A little suspicious side of her was afraid of tempting fate. She discarded the too-tight jeans in favour of a simple dress. Then she brushed her long dark hair until it shone, before adding a touch of eye shadow and lipstick. She refused to ask herself why she was taking so much time with her appearance.
The late spring evening was unseasonably warm, so she opened the window and the smell of her climbing roses floated in on the breeze. Should she offer him a meal? she wondered. What was the polite way to behave when meeting the father of your child after a one-night stand? Once again, she felt her face grow warm at the memory. She thought about phoning Fiona to tell her Raphael had turned up, and asking her for advice, but before she had the chance, there was a knock on her door. She felt a tingle of apprehension dance up her spine as she opened the door.
Raphael stood in the doorway, holding a bunch of tulips. She couldn't read the expression on his face, and before she could say anything, he handed her the flowers.
'Thank you,' she said simply, burying her nose in their fragrance. 'They're lovely.' She stood aside to let him enter. Once again she was dismayed at the way her heart was thumping.
'I thought we could go for a walk,' Annie said, feeling the need for neutral territory. 'I could show you Penhally Bay.'
'I would like that.'
Annie draped a sweater over her shoulders and soon they were following the road down to the harbour.
'How are your family?' she asked. 'And little Maria? I have thought of her often.'
'They are all well. Maria asks after the British woman with the sad green eyes often.' He stopped and turned towards her. 'But you don't look so sad to me any more.' He traced a finger down the line of her jaw. 'You look happy.'
'I am. Very happy.'
They continued following the road until they came to the lighthouse. They stood looking across the harbour to the sea beyond.
'It's hard to believe right now, when everything is so calm, but there was a bad storm here,' Annie said. 'It caused a lot of damage and there are still a lot of repairs being carried out to some of the buildings. A couple of people lost their lives. It's a small community and everybody feels it when something so awful happens.'
'It must have been hard on everyone. It is like this where my mother lives in Spain. Everybody knows and helps each other. It is a good way to live.'
'It's quiet now,' Annie continued. 'But you wouldn't believe how busy it gets in the summer months. I love it here.'
'In my country, we are always outdoors.' Raphael stopped and looked at her intently. 'It is a good country for a child to live. They can be outside playing instead of inside playing computer games, like so many of the children in this country.'
It seemed their walk was just another opportunity for Raphael to try and convince her to come and live in Spain, she thought, unable to prevent a stab of disappointment. Couldn't he see it was out of the question?
'Children here in Penhally Bay have a good life too,' she said. 'Many of them surf or sail, and there's always the beach for the younger ones. I loved it here when I was a child. It is a good place, a safe place for children. The community looks out for each other. Admittedly it attracts thousands of tourists in the summer, but that is a good thing too. It means that there is plenty going on for teenagers as well as adults. We have a very low crime rate here.'
'It is beautiful,' Raphael admitted, his eyes sweeping the bay. 'Almost as beautiful as where I live. But the weather.' He spread his hands. 'It is cold. And the rain. In Spain, there is always family around. The children spend time with their grandparents and aunts and uncles as well as cousins. Like you say, there are always people to watch out.'
They carried on walking, falling into step alongside each other. 'What about your family?' he asked. 'Don't you mind being far away from them?'
'I go to see my parents and my sister often and sometimes they come here. I'd always planned go to Australia to see my brother and his family, but I guess I'll have to shelve that plan for a while.' She smiled, thinking of the reason a visit to Australia would be out of the question for some time. 'We lived in Penhally Bay until I was about seven, when we moved to Edinburgh, so it always felt like a second home.'
'Why did you come back? Did you not like Edinburgh?'
'I'm not really a city girl. I love being able to open my front door and let the sea air in. I love the way everyone knows everyone else here---even if it does mean people know more about your business than you'd like.'
She slid a glance at him, wondering if he realised that the pair of them were bound to become a source of gossip. Not that it would be malicious, but people were bound to speculate eventually about the pregnant midwife and the Spanish doctor.
'So, they will talk about us,' Raphael said, shrugging his shoulders. 'It is of no importance. I am not ashamed.'
'Look, Raphael, can we talk about why you're here?' Annie was panting slightly as she spoke. Raphael placed a hand on her arm, indicating a bench with a tip of his dark head and leading her towards it.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the surfers out at sea. The waves were a decent size and a number of people were making the most of it.
'You told me you've spoken to the lawyers about access. You didn't need to do that. I wouldn't stop you from seeing your child, not as long as you came to see him when you were supposed to. The only thing I don't want is a father who flits in and out of my child's life. A father who can't be depended on. I would much rather you have no involvement than that. But it scares me that you are consulting lawyers. I don't really understand why you seem to feel the need. I would have done anything to have a child. The last thing I would do is to take it away from you.'
Raphael brought his eyebrows together. 'Is that what happened, Annie? You wanted a child and you used me to have one?'
'It wasn't like that!' Annie insisted. 'You don't understand...'
He turned cool brown eyes on her. 'What is there to understand? You have what you want,' he said. 'Now I will have what is mine.'
Annie shivered. There was no mistaking the determination in the set of his mouth.
'In which case,' she replied, 'if that is what you think of me, I don't think there is anything left to say.'
She stood, leaving him sitting there staring out to sea.
OVER the next week Annie kept bumping into Raphael but apart from his pointed enquiries into how she was feeling, their contact was limited to clinical discussions. When she saw him with his patients she was struck by his easygoing manner and they all seemed to love the way he managed to achieve the right balance between casual joking and interested concern. However, when he looked at her, his expression turned cool.
And it wasn't just the patients. He was causing quite a stir among the other female members of staff too. Annie was constantly overhearing conversations speculating about whether Dr Castillo was involved with anyone. Thankfully no one guessed that Annie and Raphael had met before, let alone that she was carrying his baby.
Annie was looking forward to a couple of days off over the weekend. She loved her job, but she hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights. Not since Raphael had turned up, in fact, and she was longing for an early night in bed with a good book.
She only had one more patient to see before she called it a day. Morgan was an anxious-looking woman who had come for her first antenatal appointment. She had taken a home pregnancy test and estimated she was about eight weeks pregnant.
'We'll just do another one here,' Annie said. 'If that's okay with you?'
'Is that necessary? I mean, there's no doubt I'm pregnant. The test was positive and my breasts are tender and I've even developed a bump already.' She dropped her hand to her stomach, a dreamy smile on her face. But there was something that was sending alarm bells ringing for Annie. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew she'd be happier when she repeated the test herself.
When she looked at the stick, she knew that her instincts had been correct. The test was negative. Not even the faintest blue line. Her heart sank. She hated days like these when she had to be the bearer of bad news. If Morgan had been pregnant, she wasn't any longer. Just to make absolutely sure, Annie decided to ask Raphael to come and see her.
Morgan must have seen the look on her face when she came back into the room. Her face puckered.
'I am so sorry,' Annie said gently. 'But the test is negative.' She could feel every word pierce the woman like an arrow.
'But I have to be! I've wanted this for so long. And I have all the symptoms. Your test must be wrong.'
'I don't think it is, but just in case, I'm going to ask Dr Castillo to scan you. He has the most experience of scanning women in early pregnancy.'
Morgan started to cry and Annie's heart went out to her. She paged Raphael, hoping that he hadn't left for the day. She was relieved when he answered, and when she told him about her concerns he said that he would come immediately.
Annie had only enough time to prepare her patient for the scan when Raphael arrived. As usual he looked breathtakingly handsome, but Annie, still reeling from his revelation about consulting a lawyer, told herself that she couldn't care less how he looked. Any man who suggested that she had used him to get pregnant and in the same breath threatened to take her child from her wasn't a man she wanted anything to do with. How she could have fooled herself into thinking that they were some kind of kindred spirits was beyond her. And if he made her heart tumble every time she saw him, that was just physical attraction and she would get over it.
Annie brought him up to speed and Raphael took Morgan by the hand and looked into her eyes.
'I am just going to have a look at your uterus,' he said softly. 'If there is a baby in there, I will find it. Have you had any bleeding?' Morgan shook her head silently.
Raphael waited while Annie squirted some ultrasound gel on Morgan's belly. Then he glided the probe over her tummy while watching the monitor intently. Finally he shook his head.
'I'm sorry, but there is no baby there. In fact, there is no evidence you have been pregnant recently.'
'But I am,' Morgan wailed. 'Please look again. It must be there. I swear I even felt it move yesterday.'
Raphael and Annie shared a look across the top of Morgan's head. Annie was bewildered. What was going on here?
Raphael took Annie outside while their patient got dressed again.
'I think she has a ghost pregnancy,' he said.
'You mean a phantom pregnancy?' Annie was astonished. She had never come across one of those before, although she had read about them. Apparently it could happen when women so desperately wanted to be pregnant they managed to convince themselves that they were.
Raphael nodded. 'She must want a child very much.'
Annie could understand Morgan's feelings and her heart ached for her. She knew what it was like to yearn for a baby, to feel that something was missing from life. Although she had never imagined herself to be pregnant, she would have done anything to have a child.
Annie almost smiled at the irony of it. Robert hadn't loved her enough to want to adopt a child with her and now here was a man who was determined to be a father to her child, and she wasn't sure she wanted him around.
'I need to talk to Morgan,' she said.
'Would you prefer me to?' Raphael asked.
'No, she's my patient. It's my job,' Annie said heavily. 'But I wish I were about to tell her something different.'
Annie saw a distraught but resigned Morgan out a little later, and after finishing her paperwork for the day left for home herself. She was surprised to find Raphael waiting by the hospital exit. She nodded a goodnight in his direction, but he caught up with her and walked beside her.
'Are you okay?' he asked, searching her face. 'That must have been difficult for you.'
'I'm fine. It's all part of the job after all, isn't it? Most of the time our work has a happy outcome, but sometimes...' She shrugged. 'Things don't work out the way we want.'
'But it upset you. You tried not to show it, but I could see it on your face.'
There it was again. This man's uncanny ability to perceive every emotion she felt. Even when she did her best to hide her feelings. Everyone thought nothing ruffled her, that she was able to keep herself emotionally detached, and she let them think that. Not least because it was the opposite of the truth. Her colleagues would be dismayed if they knew just how keenly she felt her patients' pain. Perhaps it was because she understood their longing for a child only too well.
'Yes, it did upset me. But I'll put it behind me. And move on.'
'Can you? Can you really put your feelings aside? Just like that?' He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks before turning her around and looking into her eyes. She felt a dizzying sense of being caught up in his aura like a leaf in the wind. The rest of the world seemed to recede until it was just the two of them, in a bubble of their own. 'I need to know that you are okay,' he said roughly, breaking the spell and bringing her back to reality.
For a second Annie thought he was talking about her, but as his eyes dropped to her stomach she realised he was talking about her baby. Of course. Well, he had never pretended he was interested in her. As far as he was concerned, she was just a walking incubator for his child. She felt a flash of temper.
She sighed. 'Don't worry, Raphael. I'm still pregnant. And I will let you know if there is a problem.' However, seeing the look on his face, she took pity on him. It must be difficult to be a man sometimes. To feel excluded. But that wasn't her concern. He would just have to deal with it.
'The baby's fine, honestly,' she said. Then she couldn't help herself. 'I think I might have felt it move yesterday for the first time.'
His eyes glowed and he dropped a hand to her stomach. He left it there for a second. Once again Annie felt electrifying shocks shoot through her body and her knees turned to jelly.
She stepped away from him as if she'd been stung. 'Hey, you'd have to stand there for a long time if you're waiting to feel it move.' She looked around the car park. Although it was almost empty, there was always a chance somebody would see them and what they'd make of Dr Castillo with his hand on her belly was anyone's guess. One thing was for sure, though, she wasn't ready for anyone to know that he was the father of her child. Not yet, at any rate.
'You haven't told anyone, have you?' she said, suddenly horrified at the possibility that the identity of the father of her child was no longer a secret.
'No, just my mother. She is delighted that she is going to be a grandmother again. She remembers you well, the way you were with Maria, and thinks you will make a very good mother. She is looking forward to meeting her grandchild in a few months' time.'
Annie decided to let that pass. At least for the time being. She had no intention of letting her baby out of her sight and certainly not to Spain. Not without her at any rate. She had heard too many scary stories about kidnapped children and the way Raphael was about this baby, she'd put nothing past him.
She started back to her car. She didn't want to be rude but all she wanted to do was get home and gather her thoughts.
'Do you need a lift?' Annie asked. 'Or have you sorted yourself out with a car as well as a job?' She hadn't meant it to come out quite so waspishly, but the way this man was organising his life around her baby was unsettling her.
'Yes.' He waved in the direction of a sleek silver sports car. 'I drove it from Spain. And I have found a house in the village to live in, just ten minutes from your home.' He quirked an eyebrow at her, as if gauging her reaction to his news.
'So you're definitely staying, then?'
He looked surprised. 'Sí. I told you I was. I accepted this job at the hospital. I cannot leave now, even if I wanted to.' He took a step towards Annie. 'You have to accept it. I am not going anywhere without my child.'
The next day was Saturday and Annie had been invited to a barbecue at Lucy and Ben's home. She didn't know Lucy, who was one of the doctors at the surgery and Nick's daughter, and who had gone on maternity leave before Annie had started at St Piran's, but she knew Ben, who was an A and E consultant at the hospital. She hadn't wanted to go, not sure she was ready to field questions about her own pregnancy, but Kate had pressed her.
'You should get to know more people in Penhally, Annie. I know your friends and family are far away, and once you have the baby, you'll appreciate knowing more of the mothers. It's helpful to have someone to compare notes with.'
Annie waited until she knew the barbecue would be almost over. Sure enough, by the time she arrived, the guests with young children were already beginning to leave, although there was still loads of food. Tables had been laid out on the lawn, which overlooked the sea, and the scent of grilling sausages filled the air.
There were a few familiar faces as well as some that she didn't recognize, but there was one in particular that made her heart thump. She hadn't expected to see Raphael there.
As she greeted the other guests she watched Raphael from the corner of her eye. He looked completely at ease, as if he'd known everyone for years. It seemed as if he felt her eyes on him, because he turned and stared directly at her. Annie felt her breath catch in her throat. He really was the most beautiful man she had ever met, with his Latin colouring emphasised by his crisp white T-shirt and the faded jeans that clung to the contours of his thighs. Once again the memory of the night they had shared came rushing back. She remembered only too well the touch of his hands and mouth on her body, the way he had made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world, and the most beautiful woman he had ever held in his arms. And the intensity in his deep brown eyes told her he was remembering too. She felt a heat low in her body and she almost groaned aloud. Why did he have to come back into her life right now, when she thought she had everything all planned out?
Kate must have noticed her hovering on the fringe of the party. The older midwife came over and touched her briefly on the arm. 'Are you okay, Annie? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Do you want a drink of water or something?'
'No, I'm fine,' Annie said, summoning a smile, rubbing her lower back. A niggling ache had started that morning. She had put it down to the added weight of the baby putting a strain on her lower muscles, but an underlying anxiety that something was wrong wouldn't go away. For a split second she wondered whether to ask Kate's advice, but immediately dismissed the idea. She was probably just being over-anxious. Besides, she didn't want to draw attention to herself or ruin her friend's day off.
'I just feel a bit tired. You know how we are always telling our pregnant patients that it's normal to feel exhausted? It's quite different to experience it yourself.'
'You don't have to stay long,' Kate said. 'Lucy and Ben will understand.'
'Thanks, Kate. I'll probably just say hello to everyone, then make my excuses. But I'm dying to see little Josh again.'
She picked up an orange juice from a table and sipped the drink, happy to have something to distract her from Raphael. She glanced around.
Ben and Lucy were showing off their latest arrival, baby Josh, to a group of admirers. Apart from Chloe and her husband Oliver, a GP at Penhally Bay Surgery, there was Nick Tremayne with a blonde woman Annie hadn't seen before. Dragan Lovak, another of the partners, was there too, with his stunning wife, the village vet. Their young son sat at their feet, playing.
Annie went over to join them. It was the first time that she had been able to see a baby without feeling a wash of regret and she was happy to join in the crowd fussing over the cheerful, plump baby. Nevertheless, as she watched Oliver stand with his wife wrapped in the circle of his arms, she felt a sharp stab that she and her baby would never be part of a loving unit. She moved away, wanting to be alone with her thoughts.
How would it be to have Raphael around---a permanent part of her child's life, if not hers?
As if he could read her mind, Raphael excused himself from whatever conversation he'd been having with Ben and came towards her. For a moment she wanted to run away. Her heart was pattering away inside her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. Her symptoms only increased as he came to stand beside her.
'Dr Castillo,' Annie greeted him formally, aware of Kate's speculative gaze. 'I didn't expect to see you here.'
'Dr Carter---Ben---asked me. We met at the hospital. He thought it would be good for me to meet some of the locals. He knows I am far from home.'
'Everyone is very welcoming here. It's a small community.' Annie let her eyes sweep the garden. Usually she avoided gatherings such as this one. Everyone always brought their children, and until now she had avoided occasions where she would see loving couples proudly showing off their offspring. But now everything was different. For the first time she could admire the babies without the tiniest bit of envy.
'Are you all right? You look pale,' Raphael asked, his eyes dropping to her belly. Once again Annie was reminded that, as far as he was concerned, she was little more than a human incubator for his unborn child. She felt a crippling stab of disappointment. But what else did she expect?
He was watching her, his brown eyes glinting, and she shivered. She wondered if he knew how much he affected her. He wasn't to know that the night they had spent together had been the most exhilarating night of her life, one she knew she would treasure for ever. He wasn't to know that she had been unable to get him out of her mind ever since. Thank God.
'I'm okay,' she said. 'If a little tired. I don't plan on staying long.'
Again there was a sharp look from eyes the colour of the mountains in the evening. His eyes raked her body.
He bent over and whispered in her ear. She could smell the tang of his aftershave and feel the heat of his breath on her neck. It took all her willpower not to shiver with delight. 'Pregnancy suits you,' he said softly. 'You are all curves and your face...' He hesitated as if searching for the right words. 'Your face is glowing. You don't look tired. You look beautiful.'
This time Annie couldn't prevent the blood staining her cheeks. There was something intimate in the way he spoke to her that made her feel as if they were the only two people in the world. 'If you want to leave,' he said, 'I will walk you home.'
'We don't want people to talk,' Annie managed through a dust-dry mouth. He had walked her home that night in Spain and look where that had led! Was he suggesting that they pick up where they had left off? Was he flirting with her? No, the idea was ridiculous.
Raphael looked around in surprise at the people gathered in the room. 'But they will have to know some time. Do you think you can keep us a secret for ever?'
'There is no "us",' she reminded him coolly.
'But there is. You, me and our child. I will be proud to be known as the father. And I am certain you are proud to be pregnant.'
'Of course I am, and everyone at the hospital knows about the baby already---I'm booked in at St Piran's after all. Kate, Chloe and Nick all know obviously, Kate's my midwife as well as my friend and Nick is my GP. But as for them knowing who the father is? Can't we keep that under wraps for the time being? Please?'
Raphael frowned. Then he smiled gently. 'If you wish. For the time being.' He echoed her words. 'It will give us a chance to get to know each other properly. Now, would you let me walk you home? It will give us the chance to talk.'
Suddenly Annie wanted nothing more than the comfort of her own house. Her mind was whirling, whether from Raphael's proximity or the promise in his words she couldn't be sure. As he had pointed out they did need to get to know each other---so that they could reach some sort of arrangement for their child. And she was curious to know more about this enigmatic man. For her baby's sake, of course.
'I just need to visit the bathroom first,' she said, trying to sound casual.
Since they'd been talking the dull ache she'd been experiencing earlier had grown in intensity. Her heart thudding, she told Raphael that she wouldn't be a minute, and hurried away.
When she made it to the toilet she was distraught to discover that she had begun to bleed. Not huge amounts admittedly, but enough to scare her witless. Was she having a miscarriage? She slid down onto the bathroom floor and hugged her knees to her chest, gasping as a wave of terror and shock raked her body. She couldn't lose this baby. Not now. Not when the dream she had longed for, had thought was out of her reach, had finally come true. But hadn't she, deep in her soul, known that it was too good to be true? That somehow it wasn't in her destiny to be a mother?
She didn't know how long she had sat there when she heard a soft tap at the door.
'Annie, are you all right?' Raphael's deep tones penetrated the fog of grief and fear. She scrambled to her feet. He would know what to do. He would help her.
She opened the door and Raphael took one look at her face before gathering her into his arms.
'What is it? What is wrong?' he demanded. He held her at arm's length, forcing her to look at him. 'Is it the baby?'
Annie nodded, unable to speak. His face paled and she saw her anguish reflected in his eyes.
'What is happening?' he coaxed gently. 'Tell me exactly.'
Annie drew strength from him. 'I'm bleeding,' she said simply, and then in a rush the tears came and she was crying in his arms. 'My baby,' she gulped between the sobs that racked her body. 'I can't lose my baby.'
Raphael scooped her into his arms and carried her, still sobbing into his chest, past the startled glances of the other guests. Everyone stopped speaking for a moment and then Annie and Raphael were surrounded. But it was Kate who spoke first.
'What's wrong?' she asked quietly.
'She's bleeding. I am going to take her to St Piran's.' Even in her distress, Annie could hear he was having difficulty keeping his voice even.
'I'll come with you,' Kate said. 'I'll drive while you take care of Annie.'
'I'll come too.' Annie recognized Chloe's anxious voice.
'We can manage, Chloe,' Kate said gently. 'Hopefully it's nothing serious. I'll call you later.'
And then Annie felt herself being lifted into the back of the car. Raphael covered her with his jacket before getting in beside her. He pulled her into his arms and stroked her head while her sobs turned to hiccups. Kate started the car and with a squeal of tyres headed towards St Piran's. They were the most dreadful minutes of Annie's life, but she was glad that Raphael was with her. He, more than anyone, would know what she was going through.
At the hospital, Raphael insisted on carrying her up to the maternity wing, Kate having to run alongside to keep up with him. Annie knew that come tomorrow, when all this was over, she would be mortified at all the attention. But right now she didn't care. If anyone could help her it was Raphael, and she trusted his medical skills absolutely.
He set her down on a couch in one of the examination rooms, calling for the ultrasound scanner in a voice that suggested that, if it wasn't brought to him this instant, there would be hell to pay. Fear closed Annie's throat and numbed her lips, but she answered Kate's questions as best she could. No, she hadn't bled before. She'd only had mild cramps tonight. Nothing until tonight. She had even felt the baby move earlier, but couldn't feel anything now.
Raphael, his eyes tight with concentration, was spreading cool gel on Annie's tummy. In any other circumstances she might have felt awkward as his hands lifted her dress, revealing her lacy underwear, but right now all she could think about was her baby.
Kate held her hand as Raphael scanned her abdomen, his attention fixed on the monitor. Suddenly his face creased into a smile and Annie felt the first small tug of hope since she had been to the bathroom.
'I can see the heartbeat,' Raphael said, relief in his voice. 'Look, Annie, there.' He turned the screen towards her and even through her swollen eyelids she could see the fluttering of a heartbeat. Her heart soared. She was still pregnant. For the time being, at any rate. She shook the thought away. She had to stay positive, for the baby's sake. There was no way she was going to give up on this baby, not until all hope was gone. And right now the baby was still there, inside her, needing her to be strong. She counted four limbs on the 3D image. Tiny legs folded and was it...? Yes, it was sucking its thumb. She felt a fresh wave of tears prick her eyes. But this time it was with relief and a wash of love. That was her baby, safe inside her womb.
It seemed as if Raphael was experiencing the same sea of emotions as he too stared at the tiny image. He muttered something in Spanish in a voice filled with awe. Kate was also smiling.
Through her relief, Annie was aware of Dr Gibson, her obstetrician, coming in to the room.
'The midwives told me our miracle mum was in,' she said. 'So I thought I'd pop in to see how you were.' She looked at Raphael, curiosity evident in her bright blue eyes. 'Although I can see Dr Castillo is already here.' She squinted at the monitor and nodded, looking satisfied.
'Baby looks fine, although I'm sure Dr Castillo has already told you that.'
'We should keep you in under observation, Annie. Just to be on the safe side,' Kate said.
'Will it make any difference if I stay?'
She saw Kate and Raphael exchange a look.
'No,' Raphael said gently. 'If you are going to miscarry, it will happen anyway.'
'Then I want to go home,' Annie said softly but firmly.
'I think you should stay,' Raphael responded. 'I will stay with you.'
Once again, Annie was aware of Dr Gibson's puzzled eyes on Raphael, before the older doctor looked at her.
'I know how much this pregnancy means to you, Annie. Particularly when you thought it could never happen. I don't think a night in hospital would do you any harm.' Dr Gibson turned to Raphael. 'I'm sure you'll be aware that Annie was thought to have ovarian failure.'
Raphael drew his brows together and Annie watched as realisation dawned that she had been telling him the truth. Emotions chased across his face. Delight followed by---could it be shame? Despite herself, she enjoyed watching him squirm.
Annie struggled into a sitting position and Kate came forward to help her.
'Look,' she said. 'We all know that it will make no difference whatsoever to the outcome if I stay in hospital. This pregnancy will either continue or...' Her voice broke. 'It won't. Staying here isn't going to change anything as you have just admitted. Am I right, Dr Gibson?'
'Yes. Bed rest won't make a difference. But you know that your medical history means you have to be extra-careful. So no vigorous exercise---and that includes penetrative sex. Just to be on the safe side.'
This time it was Annie's turn to squirm and she felt her face burn. Before she could help herself she slid a glance in Raphael's direction. Out of sight of Dr Gibson and Kate, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her embarrassment deepened. Had the man no shame?
'I can't stay in hospital for the rest of my pregnancy,' Annie said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. 'If I thought it would make the slightest difference, I would be happy to remain flat on my back and not move a muscle for the next few weeks or so. But it won't. So I'm going home where I feel more comfortable.'
'Okay, Annie,' Dr Gibson said, as her pager bleeped. 'You can go home if you wish, but remember what I said about taking it easy. I need to answer this, but come and see me at my clinic in about a week.'
'I'll stay at your house with you,' Kate offered after Dr Gibson had left the room. 'That way, you won't be alone if anything happens. We hope it won't, but we can't be sure. I can ask Rob if Jem could stay over at his house.'
But Raphael interrupted. 'No, I will. It is my responsibility.'
Kate narrowed her eyes and looked from Annie to Raphael. Annie could tell from the slow realisation dawning in her eyes that she was putting two and two together. What she made of Raphael being here in Penhally Bay was anyone's guess. But Annie knew that whatever her thoughts she would keep them to herself, and she was grateful for the older midwife's well-known discretion.
'I can stay on my own,' Annie protested. 'I have my phone. Kate only lives a short distance away. If I need her she can be with me in minutes.'
Irrationally Annie felt that if she stayed in the hospital, it would only make matters worse. At home she could pretend that everything was as it had been when she'd left the house earlier in the day.
'Either I stay with you at home, or you will stay here.' From the tone of Raphael's voice, Annie realised she wasn't going to win the battle. She didn't really have the strength for it. All she wanted now was to go home and climb into her own bed and sleep, comforted with the knowledge that her baby was okay.
'All right,' she agreed reluctantly. She would agree to anything as long as it got her out of the hospital. But she couldn't prevent a flicker of relief and happiness that Raphael would be coming home with her. If only for a night she could pretend it was for all the right reasons.
Kate dropped Annie and Raphael off at Annie's place with a final entreaty to Annie to call her any time, no matter what the hour, if she needed to. Once again, Raphael insisted on carrying her as if she was too fragile to stand on her own two feet, but for once she let him take care of her. She had looked after herself for so long, it felt strange but not unpleasant giving herself, even temporarily, into the care of someone else. In his arms she could believe that everything would turn out all right.
He laid her gently on her bed and insisted on removing her tights and her dress as if she were helpless. She felt every touch of his fingers burn into her skin. Then when she was left wearing only her bra and panties he looked down at her and she could hear his breath catch in his throat. But he shook his head and, muttering something in Spanish that sounded like a curse, he held the duvet up so she could crawl into bed. He surprised her even more by lying next to her, on top of the quilt, and pulling her into his arms so that her back rested against his chest. His hands were on her hair, soothing her, and she let herself drift away, secure in the knowledge that he was there if she needed him.
Raphael stroked Annie's dark brown hair, feeling the weight of it under his fingertips. He inhaled her perfume as her breathing deepened and became regular. He stole a glance at her sleeping face, the pale skin and tiny creases of worry at the corners of her eyes. He wondered if she had any idea how vulnerable she appeared despite that tough independent exterior. He was surprised by a rush of protectiveness she aroused in him. When he had come across her in the bathroom, one look at her had told him that she was almost destroyed at the thought of losing her baby. And he had been surprised at his own feelings, too. He wanted this baby, but the gut-wrenching sorrow he had felt when he had thought she had lost it had shaken him.
And then the realisation, back at the hospital, that she had been honest with him all along. He had misjudged her and felt acutely ashamed. Just because Ruth had lied to him, it didn't mean Annie was the same. He should have known she was telling the truth when she had been so adamant that she didn't want or need him in her life. He could only imagine what his reaction must have done to her. It would have taken courage to phone him, and then for him to doubt that the baby she was carrying was his. After everything she had gone through. Any other woman would have lashed out, but not Annie. She had done what she thought was right---for the baby.
There was no longer the slightest shred of doubt in his mind. She was carrying his baby. His child. And he hadn't been mistaken about Annie. She was the woman he had thought she was back in Spain. She had told him about the baby because she thought he had a right to know---not because she wanted anything from him. But was she as strong as she liked to make out? Somehow he doubted it. And as long as she was carrying his baby, he would stay and watch over them both---whatever she said.
WHEN Annie opened her eyes the next morning it was to the delicious aroma of fresh coffee. She stretched luxuriously beneath the sheets, unable to think at first who could be moving around in her cottage. But then the previous night's events came flooding back. She dropped her hands tentatively to her tummy, feeling the reassuring swell of her pregnancy, and then a tiny movement made her gasp. Her baby was still there, alive and kicking. She smiled to herself, feeling a bubble of happiness. One day at a time. She'd take one day at a time, just as she'd told so many of her patients.
Raphael appeared at the doorway, a tray balanced in his hands. Despite his rumpled appearance, Annie felt her breath catch in her throat. How could any man be so damned handsome? It just wasn't fair. As he walked towards her, she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, suddenly selfconscious under his searching eyes. It was a bit late in the day, she thought ruefully, to be trying to hang onto her modesty. After all, this man had explored every inch of her already with his lips as well as his hands. She bit back a moan as a delicious heat flooded her body. She had to stop thinking about him in that way. No good could come of it. He was here because of his child. No other reason. And she'd do well to remember that.
'Buenas días,' he said evenly, but he couldn't quite hide the anxiety that darkened his eyes. If Annie had ever wondered how much he wanted this baby, any remaining doubts had disappeared when she'd sensed his anguish when he'd shared her fear that she might lose it. He propped the tray on her lap as she sat up.
'Morning,' she responded awkwardly. Then she added, 'I felt the baby kick just now.'
Knowing he would want to feel the reassuring movement as much as she did, she set the tray aside and took his hand, guiding it to her belly. As she felt his warm hand on her bare skin she felt goose-bumps prick her skin. Just then the baby moved and Annie was touched to see a look of relief and joy in his eyes. They smiled at each other and it was as if the air between them was alive. As if a cord bound them together. Or was it just their shared hope?
'My baby,' he said softly, before lowering his head and kissing her ever so gently on her small bump. Once more jolts of pleasure shot through her body. How was she going to cope having him around for the duration of her pregnancy if her body reacted like some wanton harpy every time he touched her?
As soon as he raised his head, she scrambled for the duvet again, snuggling under the protective folds. Not knowing what else to do to break the atmosphere that fizzled and sparked between them, she picked up her tray and almost laughed out loud. The coffee was fine, he had managed that, and the single rose clearly picked from outside her front door was a sweet touch, but the toast looked as if it had been dropped in water then wrung out and placed on her plate. What was he trying to do? Poison her?
He must have seen her look of incredulity as he looked hurt for a moment. 'Lo síento---I am sorry about the toast,' he said. 'I didn't know what to do with it. I never eat my bread like that.'
'It's fine,' Annie said. 'I'm not particularly hungry, anyway. You needn't have bothered. I'm sure you'd rather be at home.'
'I am staying with you,' he said. 'I will go and change my clothes and then go to the shop and get us some proper breakfast. You stay where you are until I get back. Kate phoned to say she is coming to check on you, so she will be here with you while I am away.'
For a moment Annie was tempted to tell him to stop treating her as if she was a child, in fact, would everyone stop treating her like a child, but bit back the words. Right now she didn't have the energy nor the willpower to argue. As soon as he was gone she'd shower and dress. He would soon see that she wasn't the type of woman who he could order about. He might be used to getting his own way in Spain and at the hospital, but this was her house and she would do as she pleased.
'I didn't hear the phone,' she said.
'It has been ringing constantly, but I unplugged the extension in here so it wouldn't disturb you. So many people want to know that you are okay. So many people care about you.'
Annie sank back in the pillows. He was right, she knew that. But what about him? Did he care for her at all? And as for all these people who had phoned. What on earth had they thought when Raphael had answered? Hopefully, no more than one colleague looking out for another. Nevertheless, Annie knew that the jungle drums of Penhally Bay would be beating furiously. It was really only a matter of time before everyone guessed that Raphael was the father of her child. But she no longer cared who knew. The only thing that really mattered was the health of her baby.
Before she could ask him who exactly had phoned, there was a knock at the front door and she heard Kate's voice calling out. Raphael looked down at her, his eyes darkening. For a moment she imagined he looked reluctant to leave her. He leaned over towards her, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Her lips parted involuntarily but instead he brushed his fingertips against her cheek.
'I will see you soon,' he said, and headed for the door.
She could hear him and Kate talking in low voices, followed by the bang of the door. Moments later her friend popped her head around the door.
'Okay if I come in?' she asked.
'I don't seem to be able to stop anyone,' Annie grumbled before immediately feeling contrite. 'I'm sorry, Kate, please ignore me. I'm just feeling a little rattled, that's all. I can't help but feel that if everyone fusses around me, there must be something wrong.'
'Raphael said he felt the baby move. That's a good sign.'
'I know.' Annie sighed. 'But I can't help but worry.'
Kate's eyes were warm with sympathy. 'We're all going to do everything we can to get you through this,' she said gently. 'Everyone's rooting for you. I had to forbid them all from coming down here to see you in person. Although I suspect you'll want to see Chloe later?'
'Does she know? About Raphael?' Annie asked, easing herself out of bed and slipping her dressing gown on.
'I think most people, Chloe included, will have guessed who the father is,' Kate said. 'None of them are so stupid that they can't put your holiday in Spain together with the sudden arrival of Dr Castillo. According to Ben, Raphael used all his connections to get the job at St Piran's so he could be near you.' Kate smiled at Annie. 'Besides, people would have had to have been blind not to see how torn up he was last night. Most obstetricians don't go carrying patients around in their arms, even if they are the most caring of doctors.'
'He certainly cares about the baby,' Annie said softly. 'I've got the feeling he's going to be my personal physician for the rest of my pregnancy.'
'Would that be so bad?' Kate said. 'God knows, we can all do with support sometimes, no matter how strong we like to think we are inside.'
Annie thought Kate looked sad for a moment, but before she could say anything the smile was back.
'By the way, he said that your sister had phoned. Fiona, isn't it? He told her you'd call her back. I'll just make us some tea if you want to phone her now.'
Annie searched her house, eventually finding her phone in the kitchen, which incidentally looked as if a bomb had hit it. Whatever talents Raphael had, domesticity wasn't one of them. Leaving Kate in the kitchen, she wandered into her sitting room and dialled her sister's number.
After reassuring Fiona that, yes, she really was fine and, no, there was no need for her to leave her family and come to Penhally Bay and, yes, of course she would call if she changed her mind, Fiona asked about Raphael, agog to find he had come to work at St Piran's.
'I couldn't believe it when he answered the phone,' she said. 'Then he told me what had happened, but that you and the baby were fine. So, Annie, what's the deal? Why didn't you tell me he had followed you? Are you two going to be together? I'm so excited for you.'
'I can't talk now,' Annie told her sister. 'I've visitors. I'll call later. But don't get too excited about Raphael being here. It's not what you think. And, Fi, don't tell Mum and Dad about last night. They'll only worry and insist on coming home early. And there's really nothing anyone can do.'
Annie hung up when she heard Chloe talking to Kate. She went into her kitchen and the young midwife handed her a cup of tea.
'How are you doing?' she asked. 'Kate says everything has settled down. She was good enough to phone me after she dropped you off, otherwise I wouldn't have slept a wink, worrying.'
Annie was grateful for the genuine concern in Chloe's eyes, but hurried to reassure her.
'And I understand our new doctor refused to leave your side.'
Annie didn't miss the teasing look she sent her way. She felt herself blush furiously.
'Does everyone know?' she asked.
'What about?' Chloe asked innocently.
Annie could feel her face get warmer. 'Do people know who the father is?'
'There is gossip. You must know there was bound to be, but most of it is just kindly interest. However, I'm afraid the way that our Dr Castillo carried you off and refused to budge from your side was a bit of a give-away.'
'I suppose it was inevitable that people put two and two together,' Annie said.
'Especially those who knew about your holiday in Spain. No one knew there was a vacancy at the hospital when, lo and behold, Dr Castillo turns up. Rumour has it that he called in every favour he was owed, to get the job. So, yes, I'm afraid the cat is well and truly out the bag. Do you mind very much?'
'No, I guess not,' Annie said quietly. 'People were bound to find out sooner or later. He's an experienced doctor, too. Anyway, St Piran's is lucky to have someone with his experience.'
'And what about you, Annie? How do you feel about him being here?' Chloe asked quietly.
How could she answer Chloe's question when she didn't know the answer herself? Annie knew she felt the same way about him as she had from the moment they had met. And that wasn't good. He would never feel the same way about her. And what if he carried out his threat to claim his rights as a father and demanded shared access? She didn't want her child to spend half its life away from her in Spain.
'I'm not sure. I don't really know that much about him,' Annie said evasively. 'I know he comes from a big extended Spanish family but that's about it.' She felt herself grow warm under their scrutiny. She wished she could at least say that they had been together the whole two weeks while she'd been in Spain, that their child had been conceived after spending time together, instead of it being obvious that she had spent very little time in the man's company before jumping into bed with him. She just knew she couldn't explain the instant, overwhelming attraction she had felt for Raphael.
'But anyway,' she continued, 'that is neither here nor there. As far as he is concerned, the baby is his and he is determined to stick around. Or so he says.' Annie hesitated then decided to confide in Chloe and Kate, knowing that neither woman would ever break a confidence.
'He tells me he intends to apply for legal access. What if he takes my baby to Spain for a visit and never brings him back?'
Two pairs of eyes studied her sympathetically.
'I don't think he could do that,' Kate said reassuringly. 'Anyway, the mother usually wins---what do they call it now---rights of residence.'
'But these days fathers have equal rights, don't they?' Annie tried to keep the panic out of her voice.
'Why don't you speak to him about it, Annie?' Kate suggested. 'It could be that you're worried about nothing. Maybe he'll put your mind at rest.'
Kate was right, of course. Annie needed to face up to the situation like the grown woman she was. But she couldn't help wondering whether she had done the right thing in letting Raphael know he was the father of her child. How much less complicated it would have been had she said nothing at all.
Kate and Chloe left shortly after Raphael arrived back. He had showered, and dressed in a thin cashmere pullover with a pair of jeans, looking, Annie thought, sexy as hell. Every time Annie saw him she remembered how he had made her feel that first night. How the atmosphere between them had seemed charged with electricity. But so far he was still an enigma to her. One thing was for sure, though, if the baby inherited its father's dark good looks it would be beautiful.
'What are you doing out of bed?' he growled at her. 'I thought we agreed you were going to stay in bed for the weekend and let me look after you?'
Once again Annie felt exasperated. While she welcomed his support, there was no way he was going to tell her how to live her life. Didn't he know that she would do whatever she could to protect the life growing inside her?
'Actually, no,' Annie said firmly. 'I agreed to nothing. As I said before, you and I both know that me staying in bed won't change a thing.'
'I had no idea you were so stubborn,' he said, his mouth twitching. 'But you will find out I am stubborn, too.' Before she had a chance to protest he had crossed the room and scooped her up in his arms. Annie had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and cling on for dear life while he marched into the bedroom and laid her, as if she could break in two, gently on the bed.
As he looked down at her, his eyes glowing, Annie felt her breath catch in her throat. For a second the world stood still and her treacherous body yearned to feel his hands on her once more. He bent over her and brushed a stray curl away from her face with a gentle finger. 'Dios,' he said hoarsely, 'why do you have to look at me like that?' And then, almost as if he couldn't bear the sight of her, he straightened and moved to the other side of the room, apparently determined to put as much space as possible between them.
'I have brought supplies from the shop as well as newspapers and magazines. I had no idea what you like, so I bought the lot. I will bring them to you.'
By this time Annie had had enough. Raphael had to understand that she didn't need him fussing over her like a mother hen. If he wanted to stick around she had to make him realise that she needed to do things her way. For all she knew, he could disappear back to Spain at any time, leaving her to get on with it on her own, and the last thing she wanted was to become reliant on somebody who might not stick around. She knew he was enamoured with the idea of becoming a father, any idiot could see that, but what about when the harsh realities of being a parent struck home? Would he be so keen then? She had fought so hard for her independence, she was damned if she was going to give it all up now. Just because it suited him.
'I'm going for a shower,' she said. 'Then I'm going to get dressed. You,' she said crossly, 'can do what you like.' She felt a moment of pleasure as she saw the look of surprise on his face. Then she hopped out of bed and, wrapping the sheet around her as well as much of her dignity as she could salvage, she stalked off to the bathroom without a backward glance.
By the time Annie came out of her deliberately long shower, Raphael was nowhere to be seen. She ignored the flash of disappointment and, selecting a dress that was loose around the waist, finished dressing. She dried her hair, taking her time over the ritual until her brown hair was tamed into a neat bob. Now she felt almost human again and ready to face the world. There was no more spotting and no cramping. Everything seemed to have settled down.
'Hey, you,' she said softly laying a hand on her belly, 'you just keep fighting in there.You have a mummy who wants you more than anything in the world and who already loves you more than she can say.' As if in response to her encouragement the baby moved and Annie felt a surge of relief. It was a fighter, this little one. It was a miracle it was here in the first place.
She padded through to her sitting room. As he'd promised, Raphael had left enough magazines and newspapers to keep her occupied for the rest of her pregnancy, never mind the weekend. She frowned in confusion as she leafed through the pile. He had even included a copy of Biker's Weekly! She smiled, imagining him in the newsagent's, grabbing the first magazines that came to hand, unsure what she liked to read and in too much of a hurry to get back to check up on her to think about it. Her smile faded as another thought hit her---or did it show how little they knew of about one another? And yet they were going to parent the same child. She picked up a well-known travel magazine with a four-page spread on the part of Spain he came from. Now, was that deliberate? she wondered. Was he determined to persuade her to bring their baby to Spain? She couldn't make up her mind whether to be amused or angry. In fact, everything about Raphael confused her. She had been content on her own, and as soon as she'd known she was going to have a baby, her life had been complete. But now that he was back in her life again, all testosterone, making her go weak at the knees every time she saw him, he had gone and upset everything all over again. In many ways it would have been better if he had stayed out of her life.
Looking out the window, she saw that the sun was shining. It was a perfect early summer day and Annie felt restless. Maybe she should practise some yoga? That always calmed her and no one could say it counted as vigorous exercise. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered what else Dr Gibson had said. No penetrative sex. As if! There was no worry on that score! It was clear that any desire Raphael might have had for her had long since vanished. Although when he had raised an eyebrow at her, back there in the hospital room, she had seen from his eyes that he had been thinking of the night they'd conceived the baby. She crossed over to the window and opened it, letting the gentle breeze cool her cheeks. It was a lovely day. Perhaps she would go for the walk she had threatened, but she didn't feel confident enough to go on her own. Whatever she had told Raphael, she was still scared---no, terrified---that she could yet lose her baby.
ANNIE was beginning to feel hungry when there was a tap on the door. She opened it to find Raphael standing there, holding another bunch of flowers. For a moment she was taken aback. It was almost as if he was wooing her. Despite everything she had told herself, she couldn't help a tiny spurt of pleasure at the gesture. But she needed to remember that this man would do anything to make sure he was kept in her baby's life. She mustn't let his little-boy grin get to her.
In addition to the flowers, Raphael was laden with cardboard boxes that smelled delicious.
'I had a look in your fridge earlier,' he said, 'but there was nothing. Don't you know you have to eat? To stay strong?'
'I know. For the baby,' Annie retorted.
'Isn't that what we both want?' He looked puzzled.
'Yes. Of course.' Annie was suddenly aghast. What was she thinking? That she wanted him to see her as more than the mother of his child? That she wanted him to see her as a woman? But she didn't. She would never have a relationship with a man who threatened her with lawyers. But he still hadn't actually told her what he was planning to do when the baby arrived. She should take Kate's advice and talk to him about it.
'We need to talk,' he said, as if he'd read her mind. 'But first we need to eat. I for one cannot think on an empty stomach. I was going to cook for us, but I don't know what you like---except seafood. But best not to chance that while you're pregnant. So I got a selection of other things I thought you might like from the restaurant on the main street.'
He emptied the contents of the boxes onto plates he had fetched from the kitchen.
'Remembering the way you cook,' Annie said, smiling, 'I think you did the right thing.'
Raphael pretended to look hurt for a moment. Then he grinned and Annie's heart somersaulted.
'I thought about going for a walk later,' Annie said. 'I hate being cooped up inside. Especially when the weather is so perfect.'
Raphael's smile was replaced by a frown. 'I thought we agreed you were going to rest---at least for a day or two.'
Annie replied, not even attempting to hide her frustration, 'Dr Gibson said no vigorous exercise. I hardly think a stroll falls into that category.' She blushed, remembering what else Dr Gibson had said. 'You can hardly stand guard over me for the rest of the pregnancy, Raphael!'
Raphael put his fork down and, reaching across the table, took Annie's hand.
'Cariño,' he said softly. 'If I thought standing guard over you would help, I wouldn't leave your side, but as you are determined to go for a walk, there is nothing for it except that I go too!'
Before Annie could protest, he dropped her hand and touched her lips with his finger. Annie swallowed a moan as her body thrilled to his touch.
'No more arguments,' he continued, tracing the line of her lips. 'You will find I can be as stubborn as you. Now---' he looked at her with mock severity, thankfully unaware of Annie's furiously beating heart '---let's finish eating. Or make no mistake---you won't be leaving this house.'
After they had eaten, they followed the road down towards the shore. The early evening was warm and the scent of flowers and sea filled the air. Annie loved this time of year in Penhally Bay. Soon she would need to make a start on converting the spare room into a nursery and had already decided she would paint it buttercup yellow.
They followed the road until they came to the lighthouse.
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching as the sun turned the sky to strips of red, gold and lilac. Eventually Raphael turned molten brown eyes on her.
'I owe you an apology and an explanation,' he said. 'I should never have doubted you and I cannot have you worrying about me taking the baby from you. You must understand I would never do that. It is not easy for me to tell you why I went to a lawyer, but I feel I must. Can I ask you not to tell anyone else---do I have your word?'
'I can keep a confidence,' Annie said.
Raphael took a deep breath before speaking. 'I was married. Until last year.'
Annie felt her heart thump. Was he going to tell her he was still in love with his wife?
'My wife and I had a child. Sebastian. He is three now.' Raphael smiled grimly before continuing, 'I love that little boy. He is my life.'
Annie drew in a breath. The pain in his voice was evident. She hadn't known he had a child. Where was he? And what was Raphael doing so far away from his him? If he loved him, and it was evident he did, how could he bear to be away from him?
She waited quietly for him to continue. It was obvious he was having difficulty keeping his emotions in check. His eyes were dark and Annie had to sit on her hands to prevent herself leaning towards him and brushing the stray lock of hair from his eyes.
'My wife left me,' he said baldly. 'And she took my son with her. Only it turned out that Sebastian wasn't my son after all. He belonged to the man she ran off with.'
Annie was appalled. But in that instant she knew more about Raphael than she had thought possible. His hurt was written all over his face.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'That must have been hard.' She longed to reach out and comfort him, but something in the way he held himself, in his forbidding expression, warned her that he wouldn't welcome her touch.
'She wouldn't let me see him. So I went to the court and asked for access. But it was denied. They said that I wasn't the biological father, so I had no rights.'
The bitterness and pain in his voice shook Annie. No wonder he was so determined to have some legal rights to their child.
'It didn't matter that I was the only father he had ever known, that he loved me and I loved him. None of that counted when it came to access. She took him away to another part of Spain. I don't know how he is, if he is missing me. I know nothing about my child's life. And he is my child. Even if I am not the biological father.'
'I'm so sorry, Raphael. I can only imagine what that must be like for you. Not to be able to see him. Not to have any contact whatsoever.'
He stood up and turned away as if he couldn't bear to look at her. 'I don't want your sympathy,' he said roughly. 'I just need to be certain that the same thing won't happen again.'
Annie's blood chilled. But it must be difficult for this proud man to admit that he had been deceived.
'Did you love her very much?' she said quietly. 'Your exwife?'
'Ruth? I told myself I loved her. When she told me she was pregnant with my child, I asked her to marry me. I thought we could make it work. For the sake of the child. But we were never really happy, and eventually she met with the real father again.' His voice was bitter with the memory. 'She started seeing him again while she was still married to me. I was such a fool.'
This time Annie couldn't help herself. She got up and went to stand beside him, touching his arm. He flinched almost as if she had burnt him.
'And Sebastian? What about him?'
His voice was raw when he spoke. 'Whatever she says, he is my son. I was the one who looked after him in the night when he couldn't sleep. The one who kissed his knee when he scraped it. Whatever the court says, he is still my son.'
'Do you see him at all?'
'No. That is why I am speaking to the lawyers about this baby.' He smiled grimly, still looking into the distance. 'I can't lose this child too. You must see that.'
Annie could see it. Just by looking at him she could tell how badly he had been hurt. More than hurt, betrayed. It was the sadness she had seen inside him the night they had first met. And it was still there. But that didn't mean she could risk losing control over her child's future to appease a hurt Raphael had experienced at the hands of another woman. No matter how sympathetic she felt.
'I wouldn't stop you seeing your child. Not unless I thought it was harmful in some way. Can't you trust me to do the right thing? After all, I needn't have told you I was pregnant.'
'I know. I misjudged you. And for that I am sorry. Can we start over again? Please?' He smiled his killer smile which never failed to make Annie go weak at the knees.
She felt a shiver of excitement, and her heart beat faster. Did he mean start over from where they had left off in Spain? Did he still feel that same connection she did?
'Can we be friends for the sake of our child? Work something out between us?' Raphael continued.
Annie's heart plummeted. Of course, she should have known. All he was interested in was the child. But he had a point---no matter how disappointed she felt that he didn't want anything more than friendship from her, they needed to reach an agreement about what was going to happen once the baby was born.
'You can come and see him any time you like,' Annie said through stiff lips.
Raphael drew his brows together. 'But I would also want him to come to Spain. He must get to know his family, what it is to be Spanish. I would want him to visit often.'
Instinctively, Annie placed her hands protectively on her belly. Could she trust him? This man she barely knew, yet was the father of her child? How was she going to bring herself to let this precious little one out her sight for a second, never mind to another country.
'Don't you trust me?' he asked softly, as if he had guessed what she was thinking. 'What can I do to make you believe me that I only want to do what is right for my child?'
Raphael raised a finger to her cheek, tracing a line down to her jaw. She couldn't have felt his touch more keenly if he was drawing a knife across her skin. 'What are you thinking? Please---tell me, cariño.'
This time it was Annie who drew away. She wrapped her arms around her body.
'A year ago, I was going to get married, to Robert. We had known each other almost all our lives and planned to have a large family,' Annie said slowly after a few moments. 'But my periods had been irregular for years and somebody at the clinic I worked in, back in Edinburgh, suggested I have a fertility test.' She looked into the distance, remembering. 'I took it more out of curiosity than anything else. It never really occurred to me that there could be a problem.'
'What was this test?' Raphael asked.
'It's called an AMH. It's fairly new but deemed to be very reliable.'
Raphael nodded. 'I have read about it in the medical journals.'
'Apparently my ovarian reserve was so low that even IVF would be out of the question.'
Raphael looked at her steadily.
'Go on,' he said.
'It hadn't even crossed my mind that there wasn't plenty of time to think about having a child. You don't think when you're twenty-seven that it's already too late do you? At least, I didn't.' She remembered only too well her feeling of shock and disbelief. 'When I told Robert he was dismayed. And once he realised that even IVF was out of the question, he began to change. I told him that we could always adopt, but he said that he could never bring up another man's child. After that we drifted apart. There was no more talk of weddings. I realised he couldn't love me the way I thought he did, so I called the whole thing off. I think he was relieved. That's when I decided to come to Penhally Bay. To start afresh. But the pain follows you, you know. It's ironic, being a midwife. Every day you're confronted with what you can't have. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and I love bringing happiness to all these couples, but it used to hurt.'
'He couldn't be much of a man, this Robert,' Raphael said, frowning.
'I can't blame him. He wanted something I couldn't give him. It was unfair to expect him to give up the chance of a family for me.'
'If you were my woman, I wouldn't have let you go. You should be with someone because you have to be. Not because you want children.' His eyes were warm with sympathy. 'But now I understand. Our baby will be very special for you. But for me, also.'
Annie nodded, relieved that he seemed to understand. 'Raphael, this baby is like a miracle to me. I can't believe how lucky I am. It's unlikely, though, that I will ever fall pregnant again. This is my one chance to have a child.' Annie struggled to keep her voice even. She knew there was no way that she could convey properly how devastated she had been when she had thought having a child of her own was an impossibility. And anyway, did she want to reveal anything more of herself to this man? She had already shown him too much of her soul. He was the father of her child, that was all, and she'd do well to remember that. Even if it almost broke her heart.
A FEW weeks later, Annie was back at work, feeling much more rested. She was surprised to find Claire and Roy waiting to see her. Claire wasn't due to come in for another couple of weeks and Annie was immediately concerned to see her back so soon. She was even more worried when she saw the look of anxiety on the couple's faces.
'What is it Claire?' Annie asked gently. 'What's bothering you? Is it the babies?'
'I've had a little spotting,' Claire said anxiously. 'I know it can happen sometimes, but---'
'We just wanted to make sure everything was all right,' Roy finished for her.
Annie's heart went out to the couple. She knew they'd be terrified. Claire had seemed so fragile the last time Annie had seen her that she was worried that if she lost the babies she would sink so far into depression that she might not come out the other side. Claire was already in her late thirties and the chance of another pregnancy was diminishing with every passing year.
'I'm going to page Dr Castillo. His special interest is high-risk pregnancies and I'm sure he'll want to scan you, Claire, to see what exactly is going on. I'll ask him to come as soon as he's free. In the meantime, could you try and drink as much as possible so your bladder is nice and full for the scan?'
Claire's eyes filled with tears and she reached for Roy's hand. 'I'm so scared, Annie,' she said shakily. 'I don't know if it's better not knowing, if you see what I mean? As long as I don't know I---we---still have hope.'
Annie stood up and went over to Claire and wrapped her in her arms. 'You're way ahead of yourself. I know how scary all this can be. Believe me. Let's just take one step at a time, okay?'
When Claire nodded, Annie picked up the phone and asked switchboard to page Dr Castillo. While she waited for him to answer she filled a glass of water from the jug on her desk and handed it to Claire.
'Dr Castillo.' Annie heard his deep voice on the other end of the phone. 'You were paging me?'
'Dr Castillo,' she said formally. 'It's Annie. I have someone I'd like you to scan. Could you come down to the antenatal clinic?'
'I'm due in theatre in fifteen minutes. Can it wait until later?'
Annie looked over at Claire, who was drinking the water as if her life depended on it. 'No,' she said, 'it can't.'
'Are you all right?' Immediately the concern was back in his voice.
'Of course,' Annie said. 'It's a couple with a twin IVF pregnancy. She's had some bleeding and is feeling anxious.'
'I'll be right there,' Raphael said, and disconnected.
Annie only had enough time to prepare Claire for the scan before Raphael arrived. He was wearing his theatre scrubs, which framed his muscular body perfectly. Once more, despite herself, Annie felt a thrill when he came into the room. Must be the pregnancy sending her hormones into overdrive, she told herself.
Raphael introduced himself to the worried couple and his easy and relaxed manner soon put them at ease.
While he set up the scanning machine Annie gave him an overview of Claire's history to date. 'This is their third attempt at IVF. Neither of the first two goes resulted in a pregnancy, but this time both the embryos put back implanted successfully. Claire had a scan around seven weeks and two heartbeats were clearly visible at that stage. She's been well up until now, but had some spotting last night. They thought it best to have it checked out.'
Raphael caught Annie's eye. It was obvious from the sympathetic look in his eyes that he knew how close to the bone seeing Claire was for her.
'How many weeks into the pregnancy are you?' he asked Claire, bringing her into the conversation.
'Twenty-four,' Claire replied.
Roy held his wife's hand as Annie covered her stomach in ultrasound gel. They all watched the screen as Raphael scanned. As the image came up on the monitor, Annie could immediately make out two heartbeats. She felt a surge of relief, but almost as quickly it was replaced with concern. While two babies were clearly visible, neither of the babies were the size they should be for the dates. To make matters worse, one was significantly bigger than the other. As Raphael turned to look at her, she could see he shared her concern.
'I have some good news for you and some not-so-good news,' he said gently. 'As you can see from the monitor---' he indicated the two beating hearts with his finger '---there are two heart beats---there and there.' Claire and Roy craned their heads to see what he was showing them. 'The problem, however, is that one baby---' he pointed to one of the tiny forms '---is significantly smaller than the other. This suggests that the bigger baby is taking more than its fair share of the nutrients from the placenta, meaning that the smaller baby is struggling to get enough to grow.'
'What does it mean?' Roy asked.
'It means,' Raphael said, 'that both your babies are still alive. That's the good news. However, we will have to monitor both of them carefully over the next couple of weeks. If it looks like the second baby isn't getting enough nutrients, we will have to think about what to do.'
'What might those options be?' Although Roy's voice was calm, Annie knew he was only keeping it together for Claire's sake.
Raphael looked at him sympathetically.
'It's too soon to know. As I said, we will monitor your babies very closely over the next couple of weeks. Keep an eye on their growth.'
'And if the second baby doesn't grow? What then?' Roy insisted. 'Look---' he turned to his wife and gripped her hand tightly '---we'd both prefer to know, so please tell us. What is the worst that can happen?'
'We might have to deliver the twins much earlier than we would like. I know this a lot for you to take in, and I believe it is important for patients to have all the facts so they can be fully involved in the decision making process, but I am not ready to make that decision yet. As I say, we should wait and see how they get on.'
Claire turned terrified eyes to Annie.
'I don't understand,' she said. 'Annie, is there a chance my babies could die?'
Annie put her arms around the distraught woman's shoulders. ';There's nothing to suggest that right now, Claire. I know all this is difficult for you to take in. But you are lucky to have Dr Castillo to look after you. He is one of the leading experts in his field. We have to trust him.'
Raphael looked at Annie, seeming surprised at her warm endorsement, but then he turned to the couple.
'I want you to go home and try not to worry, even though I know that will be difficult. I will scan you again in two weeks' time. We will have another look at your babies then, and think about what to do. In the meantime, all we can do is wait.'
And pray, Annie thought. Pray that this couple weren't going to have their dreams dashed. But Raphael was right, there was nothing more that could be done right now.
She made another appointment for Claire and Roy to come back to see her and Raphael before seeing them out of the department. When she returned to the room, Raphael was still there, writing in Claire's notes.
'What do you really think?' she asked him.
He looked up at her, surprised. 'Exactly what I told them. We'll know more in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, all we can do is wait.'
'Couldn't we have waited until the next scan? Now they'll have days of worry to live through when it might not be necessary.'
Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. 'I believe that parents have the right to know all the details. The days when doctors decided to hold back information from their patients for their own good are gone. No?'
'But if it means putting them through unnecessary worry? Can't you see how terrified they are?'
Raphael leaned back in his chair and looked at Annie thoughtfully. 'Tell me,' he said softly, 'if you were in her shoes, would you want to know the truth?'
Annie knew she was being unreasonable but she couldn't help herself. Having experienced the terror of thinking she was about to lose a desperately wanted child, she knew exactly what Claire was going through. Raphael leaned across the desk and touched her arm gently.
'They asked me for the truth, Annie. I couldn't do anything else but tell them. Can't you see that?' He dropped his hand. 'Maybe you are getting too close to your patients. We need to keep some professional distance, otherwise we can't help them.'
Suddenly all the anger went out of Annie. Raphael was right. Roy had asked and he had deserved an honest answer. And Raphael was right too about her letting her personal feelings get in the way. If she were to help the couple, she needed to keep her perspective.
Later that day Annie saw Mrs Duncan, a smiling mother of four young children.
'Nurse Kate sent me here for a scan,' she said, settling herself into the chair. 'I'm pregnant again. Number five! I know it's a bit unexpected---for me, too---but the more the merrier, I say.'
Annie looked at Mrs Duncan's notes. Her last pregnancies had been straightforward and Kate had looked after her at the surgery. The first two had been born at St Piran's and the last two at home, with Kate in attendance.
Instantly she was concerned. Mrs Duncan had been in her mid-thirties when her first child had been conceived and almost forty when her youngest, now four and a half, had been born. At almost forty-five Annie knew that the chances of the baby having some sort of abnormality were significantly raised. No doubt the same thought had occurred to Kate and that was why she had sent the woman to Annie's clinic for a nuchal scan. But it seemed as if the reason for the scan hadn't really sunk in with the happy woman in front of her.
'It's not the best timing,' Mrs Duncan continued. 'Not with the six of us still living in the caravan while our house is being rebuilt. Although we should be back in our own house by the time this one is ready to be born.'
Annie shivered as she remembered the storm that had devasted a large part of Penhally Bay months earlier. The buildings that had been damaged were almost repaired but two people had lost their lives and no amount of rebuilding would ever completely undo the trauma of that day in people's minds. She couldn't help but admire her patient's cheerfulness in the face of what must be very demanding circumstances.
'I'm sure Kate told you why she was sending you here for a scan, Mrs Duncan?' Annie asked. Of course, the senior midwife at Penhally Bay Surgery would have explained it all to her patient, but from Mrs Duncan's cheerful attitude, Annie sensed that she didn't seem to realise that she had a significantly higher chance of a chromosomal abnormality in this pregnancy.
'Oh, please call me Mary,' the older woman said. 'And, yes, Nurse Kate said that everyone was offered a scan when they were twelve weeks now. So that's why I'm here. I'll have my scan and then if you could give me the picture, I'll be on my way.'
Annie suppressed a smile, before inviting Mary up onto the couch. News of the brand-new scanner they had at St Piran's had spread quickly. The 3D images were clear enough to see even minute details and patients loved taking home photographs of the images. But almost as soon as she started to scan Mary, she could see that her instincts had been right. The nuchal fold, indicating an increased chance of Down's syndrome, was obviously thicker than normal. Her heart sank.
Mary quickly sensed that something was wrong. She squinted at the screen and then turned to look at Annie.
'What is it?' she asked. 'There's something wrong, isn't there? I can tell from the look on your face.'
'I'll need to do a blood test to confirm it, but I have to tell you that there are signs that your baby has a higher risk of Down's syndrome. If the blood test comes back positive, you may wish to think about amniocentesis.'
'What's that when it's at home? Anyway, I thought that was why I was having this scan.'
'This scan and blood test only tells us whether you have an increased risk. We need to do another test to confirm the result.'
'I think Nurse Kate suggested I might want that test with my last one,' Mary said slowly, 'but I decided against it. And my baby was fine. All my babies have been fine. So surely I don't need to worry about that?'
'The older a mother gets, the greater the risk of a Down's syndrome baby. The test does carry a small risk of miscarriage with it. You'll need to weigh up the pros and cons. You don't have to have the test, but you should consider it.'
'If you think I should then I will.' Mrs Duncan replied cautiously. 'I'm not sure I could cope with a disabled child, not when I have four of them and we're all crammed into the tiny caravan up in the park.'
Annie could see how deflated she was. Mrs Duncan had come in full of hope and excitement and all Annie had done was burst her bubble. But, as Raphael had just pointed out, she wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't give her patients all the facts and let them make up their own minds.
'I think you should have a word with the doctor before you go. If you can wait a few minutes, I'll give him a shout.'
Mary nodded. Annie left the room and went in search of Raphael. Fortunately she caught him just as he was seeing a patient out.
'I have someone in with me I'd like you to see,' Annie said. 'When I did her booking scan I could see a larger than normal nuchal fold. I'm not sure whether to arrange for her to come back for amniocentesis in three weeks or whether we should be doing a CVS today. I suspect that depends on what you think and whether you have time.'
Raphael took Mary's notes and the picture of the scan Annie had taken. 'You're absolutely right about the nuchal fold,' he agreed. 'The hospital is lucky to have a midwife who can scan. It is much more efficient this way.' He held his hands up and grinned as Annie started to speak. 'I know you are highly trained. I recognise that. Shall we see Mrs Duncan?'
Mrs Duncan had finished dressing by the time Annie and Raphael returned. Although pale, she seemed composed.
'I gather Annie here has explained things to you?' Raphael said gently. 'I realise it's probably a bit of a shock, but we are going to do everything we can to help you make the right decision for you. Okay?'
Mary nodded.
'There are three options here. One---we do nothing. Two---we bring you back for an amniocentesis. That's where we take a sample of the fluid surrounding the baby in the womb. We can only do that when you are a little further on.' He glanced at the notes. 'In about three weeks' time. The third option is that we can do a test today where we take a sample of the placenta. I have to warn you that both the tests carry a risk of miscarriage. So we have to weigh up whether the risks outweigh the benefits. Do you understand all this?'
'I think so.' Mary turned frightened eyes on Annie. 'What do you think?'
'I think you should go home and speak to your husband about it before you decide anything.'
'But Bill's away fishing. He won't be back for another three days---at least.'
'Another few days won't make much difference either way, and it's something you should speak to him about. We can, of course, do the CVS today, but I really feel you should take some time to think about it. I can also ask Kate to pop around and see you, if that helps. I know you saw her through your last pregnancies and sometimes it helps to talk things over with someone else before coming to a decision.'
'Doctor?' Mary turned to Raphael.
'I think it's good advice. Some women decide not to have the test at all, but I'm afraid it has to be your decision. Whatever you decide, whenever you decide, we will be here to help.'
'I think I will wait, then. Can I let you know when I make up my mind?'
'Of course, Mary. The important thing is not to leave it beyond sixteen weeks. Having a termination after that can be very hard, if that's what you eventually decide to do.'
'And I think it would be useful if I gave you some stuff explaining about Down's syndrome to take away with you,' Annie interrupted. 'Many women find that these children can bring a lot of joy to the family. It may not be right for you, but think about it.'
As soon as Annie had seen Mary out, armed with all the literature she could find for her, as well as a few useful Internet sites that she might want to look at, Annie went in search of Raphael. She found him talking to one of the junior doctors at the reception desk. As soon as he noticed her he came towards her and, taking her by the arm, took her to one side out of the hearing of his colleague.
'What is it?' he said. 'You are pale. There's nothing wrong with the baby, is there?'
'No, everything's fine. It's just...' She tailed off, uncertain why she had sought Raphael out but knowing she needed to speak to him. Maybe it was the threatened miscarriage and the knowledge that she had an increased chance of going into early labour. She was so scared for her baby.
'Seeing these patients makes you worry about your own pregnancy. Is that it?' His warm brown eyes searched hers. He raised a hand to her face and brushed her cheek with a fingertip. 'It must be hard for you.'
'I'm just so frightened,' she admitted. 'I know the chances of me going into early labour are increased and, well, we both know what that could mean.'
Raphael put his hands on her shoulders, and ignoring the presence of his junior, pulled her close.
'I know you are frightened. Try not to be. I am here with you.'
Annie let herself relax against his chest. He was here with her. For now. But would he stay?
THREE weeks later, Raphael tapped the front door of Annie's house before walking in. They had slipped into a comfortable pattern and there had been no more scares with the pregnancy, much to Annie's delight. As the door led straight into the small sitting room, Raphael found himself confronted with the sight of an inverted Annie. Dios. What was she doing?
Her upside-down face peered at him from the gap between her legs. She had tied her hair in a ponytail and it hung almost to the floor. She was wearing tight-fitting trousers that emphasised the shape of her bottom and her crop top revealed the taut mound of her belly and just the merest glimpse of the mound of her breasts. He felt something primeval stir in his belly.
'Oh, hello,' she said. 'I'm just doing a few rounds of The Salute to the Sun. I'll be finished in a few moments.'
In a fluid movement she changed position, curving her sweet body through a series of movements. One minute he'd be staring at her delicious rear, the next he'd be watching as her toned arms took the weight of her body and she moved into a series of lunges. Eventually she stood upright and brought her hands together as if she were praying. He took in the tiny droplets of moisture on her skin, her face glowing with her exertions, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. The swell of her pregnancy was outlined by her Lycra trousers. She had never looked so beautiful or so womanly to him before, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her into his arms and run his tongue over her skin.
'Yoga,' she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. 'In case you are wondering. I've been doing it for years. And since it seems as if I am forbidden---' she looked at him with mock anger '---to do anything more strenuous, I've been practising every day.' She picked up a towel from her sofa and wiped the moisture from her skin. 'I find it helps me stay calm,' she added. 'And I'm hoping it will help me stay focused in labour.'
Raphael tore his eyes away. He loved the way her eyes sparkled with amusement. He hadn't seen Annie smile as often as he would have liked. More than anything, he wished he could be the one to bring the light to her face.
'I have come to ask you if you would like to come for a picnic. Catalina and Maria arrived last night and as it's a beautiful day, we thought Maria would like a trip to the beach. I know she would like it if you came too. Catalina also. She wants to meet the mother of her niece or nephew again.'
Dios, why had he said it in that way? Why couldn't he admit that he wanted to spend time with her, too? Because he couldn't, that was why. He had to remember that it didn't matter how much he wanted this woman back in his arms, an affair was out of the question. No woman was ever going to rip his heart out again. Not even this one. Especially not this one.
'Maria? Catalina?' She was frowning. A tiny pucker of her eyebrows. 'They are here? In Penhally Bay? To see me?' Annie wrapped the towel around her shoulders, hiding the exquisite swell of her breast from him.
'To see you, yes, but also because my mother had to go to the north of Spain to see her sister and she didn't want to take Maria with her. So she asked Catalina to take her for the weekend. My sister thought it was a chance to come here for a couple of days and get to know you a little. And Maria still talks about you. It would be a good chance to kill a bird with a stone, as you say in English.'
'Kill two birds with one stone,' Annie corrected him automatically. She wasn't looking as pleased as he'd thought she'd be. 'I don't know, Raphael. I'd like to see them both again, especially little Maria, but...' She tailed off.
Raphael could guess what she was thinking. He wondered if she had any idea how easily he was able to read her. She'd be worrying whether this was another attempt to persuade her to come and live in Spain.
'Please,' he said. 'I know I have no right to ask you.Your time is your own, but Maria would be so happy to see you again.'
He knew it was unfair of him to play the Maria card. Annie might be able to resist a plea from him, but from the little girl? He doubted it. As soon as he saw the acceptance in her eyes he knew he had been right.
'Where are they?'
'I dropped them off at the beach. I told them I couldn't promise that you would come.'
'But you knew I would.' Annie quirked an eyebrow in his direction. She was right. He had been certain that she wouldn't be able to resist seeing Maria again.
'I'll just have a quick shower then change. You go on if you like. I'll walk down when I'm ready. It won't take long and I could do with the exercise.'
'I'll wait for you,' Raphael said, picking up one of the magazines he had brought over a few weeks ago, noting that they hadn't been read. What was wrong with Annie? Didn't she like motorbikes?
By the time they arrived at the beach, the sun was beating down and the beach was busy with locals making the most of the first really hot summer's day.
'In a couple of weeks the beach will be crowded with tourists,' Annie told Raphael. 'We'll feel the impact at the hospital, too.'
'It is like Spain. In the winter everywhere is peaceful. Then the summer arrives and suddenly it doesn't feel like home any more.'
'I don't mind, though,' Annie protested. 'We're all tourists somewhere at some time. And I quite like the buzz when the visitors arrive.'
'Buzz?' Raphael repeated, looking perplexed.
Annie laughed. 'It's an expression. It means, an energy---an atmosphere.'
Raphael pointed to a couple of figures sitting on a blanket near the shelter of a wall.
'There they are. You go on while I find somewhere to change.'
Annie tiptoed across the hot sand, her sandals in her hand. As soon as Catalina saw her she jumped to her feet and hugged Annie.
'It is good to see you again.' She smiled. 'And looking so well. I
trust my brother has been looking after you? Is everything all right now? He told us...' She tailed off.
'Everything's okay,' Annie said softly. 'I got a fright, but I'm okay now.'
Annie looked past Catalina's shoulder. Maria, wearing her swimming costume, was standing watching Annie carefully, her thumb in her mouth.
'Hello, little one,' Annie said in Spanish. She had been swotting up some basic Spanish. As her child would almost certainly be bilingual, it seemed sensible.
The little girl broke into a shy smile and, stepping forward, wrapped her arms around Annie. Annie's heart squeezed as she ruffled Maria's thick dark curls.
'Where is my brother?' Catalina asked glancing over Annie's shoulder. 'Don't tell me he decided that he was needed at the hospital?'
'No. He's just getting changed.'
Suddenly Catalina grinned. 'Here he comes!'
Annie swung round. Raphael was striding towards them, wearing a wetsuit and carrying a surfboard. His bronzed chest was bare, the top half of his suit gathered around his lean hips. Annie could see the muscles in his upper arms bunch with the effort of carrying the board and she let her eyes slide down his body, taking in the toned six pack of his abdomen. The skin-tight fabric of his wetsuit clung to his thighs and across his hips. Annie's skin tingled.
As Maria ran towards him, short legs sending puffs of sand in her wake, he dropped the board and opened his arms. Maria careered into him and he pretended to be knocked over.
Annie watched them, regret vying with the feeling of lust. She was glad about the baby---more than glad. Why, then, did she feel this aching sense of loss?
Annie paddled with Maria while Raphael took his board to an area a little further along, which was cordoned off from bathers. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him as he rode the waves, his body bending and curving as he balanced. Every so often she would catch her breath as he disappeared from view, but seconds later he would reappear from under the wave still upright. He had surfed before, that much was obvious.
'I want to make a sandcastle,' Maria said after she had finished splashing about, so they left Raphael to make most of the waves and returned to where Catalina was setting out the picnic. Keeping a watchful eye on Maria as she played, the two women stretched out on the blanket.
'It is good to see my brother happy again,' Catalina said softly. 'It has been too long since I saw him laugh. I think being here, as well as you and the baby, has been good for him.'
'He told me about Sebastian, and Ruth,' Annie said softly. 'It must have been hard on him.'
'I have never seen him so...' Catalina paused. 'So distraught. He loved that little boy. You know, he left his room exactly how it was the day she took him. His toys on the bed, his football, everything, as if he expected him to come back. And he did expect him to come back, right up until the court case. When he knew he had lost Sebastian for ever, it was as though Raphael had lost part of himself.'
'What kind of woman was she, his ex-wife? I can't imagine anyone being so deceitful and then so cruel.'
'Ruth? I never liked her.' Catalina shrugged. 'She always seemed to me as if she thought herself above everyone. You know, before Raphael became a doctor he was a very good football player. He could have played professionally, but he decided to study medicine instead. I think she would have stayed if he had chosen a different profession. She wanted more money, a better lifestyle than a doctor could offer her. Raphael told her that he would never go back to football, that, apart from everything else, he was too old, but she never stopped trying to change his mind. Then she met Sebastian's father again. He is now a very important and rich man in Spain. She decided he could give her a better life. So she went, and took Sebastian with her.'
Maria had left her sandcastle and had come to sit next to Annie. She pressed her body into Annie's and Annie put her arm around the child, drawing her closer.
'He tried everything to get access, even just once a month, but he couldn't. I think it broke his heart. When he met you, he had just been at the lawyer to try one more appeal, but that failed, too.' Catalina looked at Annie thoughtfully. 'He was a good father. He will be a good father to your child. If you will let him.'
'I won't stop him seeing our child, Catalina. I wouldn't do that, not unless he gave me cause. But I worry sometimes that he will try and take our baby away from me. And I could never let that happen.'
Catalina looked Annie directly in the eyes. 'You are wrong to think like that. He would never do to you what has been done to him. Never. He knows a child needs a mother and a father. You have to believe me. Just be patient with him.'
Annie did believe her. She knew that she had been worried all along for nothing. Raphael wasn't the kind of man to remove a child from its mother. And if she hadn't been so scared she would have seen that before now.
Maria shifted in her arms and, putting a small hand up to Annie's face, turned it towards her.
'You are not sad any more?' she said
'No,' Annie replied, and included Catalina in her smile. 'I am not sad any more.'
The rest of the weekend sped past in a happy blur. Annie couldn't resist the entreaty in Maria's big brown eyes when Catalina suggested that Annie go with them to explore some of the hidden coves along the coast. As the four of them tramped along the beach, searching rock pools and underneath rocks for crabs, Annie let herself imagine what it would be like if this were her family. She saw the way Raphael was with Maria, the way he rolled up his jeans to paddle in the sea with her, the way he made the sad little girl giggle, and Annie's heart ached. If only he felt about her the way she felt about him. If only they could be a family.
She could no longer pretend that the way her heart hammered every time she saw him was simple lust. She loved him. With all her heart and soul. She had loved him from the moment she had met him and she would love him to the day she died. But, she reminded herself, even though the realisation almost cracked her heart in two, friendship was all he had to offer, and for the sake of their child it would have to be enough.
The following Monday, Annie was down at the Penhally Bay Surgery for a check-up with Kate when Nick popped his head around the door.
'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise Kate still had someone with her. I'll come back in a few minutes.'
'No, come in,' Annie said. 'We're finished here. I was just chatting to Kate before getting back to St Piran's for the clinic.'
'Actually, it's useful that you're here, Annie. The patient I wanted to talk to Kate about involves you too.'
He sat down opposite Kate and stretched his legs out in front of him. Annie didn't really know him that well. The older GP was always friendly and helpful, but there was a reticence about him that didn't really invite confidences. All Annie knew about him was that he was a widower with grown-up children and that he and Kate had worked together for a long time.
'I gather you saw Tilly Treliving a while back at the family planning clinic?' Nick said to Kate without preamble.
'Yes,' Kate replied. 'Is there a problem?'
'You could say that,' Nick said grimly. 'She's come to see me this morning. She's around thirty weeks pregnant, I think. If her dates are right.'
Kate looked shocked. 'She came to see me, let me see, almost a year ago about wanting to start a family, but I thought I'd agreed with her that we were going to get her diabetes stabilised first and that she would continue to use contraception until it settled down. I think Gemma has been following her up,' Kate said, referring to the practice nurse.
'Obviously she decided to go ahead anyway. It was only when Gemma became concerned that she hadn't been attending the surgery and went to visit her that we discovered the reason she'd been staying away.'
'Oh, poor Tilly. She must have been scared we'd tell her off,' Kate said.
'She'll need to be followed up at the hospital, of course,' Nick continued. 'I'm referring her to Dr Castillo. I'm just waiting for him to call me back. I gather he's in surgery, but if he isn't free to see her could you fit her in to one of your clinics, Annie?'
'Of course I'll see her,' Annie said. 'I'm down to do the afternoon clinic with Raphael. It would be no problem to add her on. But if she's still here, I could have a chat with her now, if you like. Unless you'd prefer to see her, Kate?'
'It sounds as if you'll be following her up, so it's probably best for you to see her,' Kate said. 'Besides, I'm due to visit a couple of my new mothers this afternoon. But let me know if there is anything I can do.'
A few moments after Kate and Nick had left, there was a soft tap at the door and a frightened-looking Tilly came into the room.
'It's all right, Tilly,' Annie said gently. 'I just need to do a few tests so we can see what's going on. Where's John? Couldn't he get time off work to come with you?'
'He's really angry with me.' The young woman burst into tears. 'We're barely speaking. He didn't want me to get pregnant. Not after what Kate told us.'
Annie handed Tilly a tissue and waited until the sobs tailed off. It wasn't great that Tilly had gone ahead and fallen pregnant, but she couldn't find it in her heart to blame her. She knew only too well how much the desperate desire to have a child could take over everything. But Tilly was taking a risk. Her diabetes could bring all sorts of complications for the baby as well as the mother.
'I'm sure John will come round. He's probably frightened for you, but we're going to take good care of you,' Annie said. 'Dr Tremayne is going to speak to the obstetrician, Dr Castillo, at St Piran's. He specialises in pregnancies such as yours and will want to see you. He and I will follow you up at the hospital.'
'Won't Dr Castillo be angry with me too?' Tilly said. She had dried her eyes and was looking calmer. 'You promise you'll be with me when I see him?'
'Of course. But you mustn't worry about him being annoyed with you. He'll simply be concerned that we get you and the baby safely through the pregnancy. He's very kind, actually.'
Annie stood and went to fetch some more tissues. As she did, Tilly looked at her in surprise. 'Are you...?' she asked.
'Pregnant?' Annie finished for her. 'Yes, I am.'
'Oh, I didn't know you were married.'
'I'm not,' Annie said quietly.
Tilly looked embarrassed.
'Hey, it's okay,' Annie said.
'I don't care that I've put my health at risk,' the young woman said fiercely. 'I'm glad I'm going to have a baby. It's going to be loved.'
There was a tap on the door and Nick popped his head in. 'I've spoken to Dr Castillo,' he said. 'He's agreed to see Tilly at his clinic this afternoon, if she can manage that?'
'You can come with me in the car. I'm heading there myself. That way I can be with you when you see Dr Castillo. How does that sound?' There was no way Annie was going to give Tilly any opportunity to miss the appointment. Not when there was so much at risk.
Annie and Raphael saw Tilly together before the main clinic started. Raphael examined the young woman thoroughly before asking her to wait while he and Annie had a chat.
'I am not happy with her glucose levels, and the baby is already bigger than I would have expected for her dates. We are going to have to keep a close eye on her.'
Annie knew why he was concerned. Diabetic mothers often had problems in pregnancy and when the diabetes wasn't well controlled there was an increased risk of stillbirth. They would have to monitor her carefully and intervene just at the right time. It would be a tricky balancing act.
'Don't worry,' Annie said. 'I intend to. Luckily she stays in Penhally Bay, so I can pop in and see her from time to time.'
Raphael smiled broadly. 'Are you always so determined to get your patients safely through their pregnancies? Anyone would think you care about their babies almost as much as you do your own.'
Annie's heart flipped. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did her hormonally loaded body react to him the way it did? But it wasn't her hormones. She had reacted this way to him from the moment she had met him, and she couldn't blame pregnancy hormones then. And the way he had been with Tilly. Kind, reassuring, not judgemental at all. It was a different, softer side to Raphael. And it just made her love him more.
'Speaking of your pregnancy, why don't we check your BP while we are waiting for the next patient to arrive?'
Before she could react he was wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around her arm.
'Hey, wait a minute,' Annie protested, alarmed to feel goose-bumps all along her arm where his fingers brushed her skin. 'Kate checked my blood pressure earlier. And it's fine. She's looking after me perfectly well. I wish you would stop treating me as if I were some walking incubator.'
Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. 'Is that what you think?' he said, amusement threading his voice.
'What else am I to think?' Annie said crossly. 'All you're interested in is the health and welfare of this baby.'
'Don't you think I'm interested in the health and welfare of the mother as well?' His eyes were unfathomable, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was enough to make Annie's heart beat faster.
But before either of them could say more, the receptionist popped her head around the door to tell them that Claire and Roy had arrived to see them.
Annie watched as Raphael scanned Claire, who happily had no further bleeding. But as Raphael replaced the probe he had been using and Annie wiped away the lubricating gel from Claire's abdomen, Annie could tell that he was concerned.
He waited until Claire was dressed. As always Roy was there by her side. So far he hadn't missed a single appointment, even though Annie knew he had a demanding job that often took him away from home.
'The babies have grown since the last time I saw you,' Raphael said. 'But not as much as I would have liked.'
Claire's face paled and she clutched her husband's hand. The couple sat in silence, waiting for Raphael to continue.
'It's good that we have got the babies to over twenty-five weeks,' he continued. 'But now, I'm afraid, we have to make a decision.'
The couple nodded and waited for him to continue.
'We can continue to monitor the babies, and see how they progress, or we can deliver them now by Caesarean section. Both options carry a risk.' His voice was gentle. 'If we wait, it is possible that the smaller baby will die. If, on the other hand, we deliver them now, the smaller baby has an increased risk of not pulling through. The bigger baby also has greater risk of complications as all pre-term babies do.'
Claire and Roy absorbed the information silently, but Annie could see the fear etched on their faces.
'What would you do?' Roy asked Raphael. 'If it were your babies we were talking about?'
'I'm afraid this has to be your decision,' Raphael replied softly.
'Which option carries more risk for Claire? However much we want these babies, it is her that matters most.'
'Neither option is more or less risky for your wife,' Raphael said. 'Whatever you decide, it is more than likely that Claire will require a C-section. Any operation carries a small risk, but many, many women have this procedure every day without harm.'
Roy looked at Annie. She could see the tension in his face. The love he felt for his wife was written there plain for the world to see. 'What would you do, Annie?'
Annie shook her head. She didn't know what she would do if she were in their shoes. It wasn't a question she could answer.
'Both options carry a risk,' she replied. 'If we leave Claire, there is a chance the second, smaller twin could die suddenly in utero. The bigger twin would continue to grow and every day spent inside Claire's tummy increases its chances of being born healthy. If we chose to deliver both twins now, the bigger one will probably do okay, though there is still the chance of complications, but the second, smaller twin is more likely to struggle, because they are twins they are already smaller than they would be for their gestation. I'm guessing---'Annie turned to Raphael for confirmation '---from what we can see on the scan that the smaller baby is closer to twenty weeks' size.'
'So essentially you are saying that, whatever we do, we could lose either one or both of our children.'Although Roy's voice was calm, Annie could see that he was finding it difficult not to break down in front of his wife. Once again she marvelled at the very real love between this couple. Beside him, Claire was crying quietly. 'How are we supposed to decide what to do?' Roy continued.
'If I were you,' Raphael said, 'I would wait another week or two.' Annie looked at him, surprised. After everything he had said about not wanting to make a decision for the couple, here he was doing just that. But as she caught his eye, she knew what he was thinking. Waiting gave the couple a better chance of one healthy child.
'Essentially, what Dr Castillo is saying is that if you do nothing right now, you have a better chance of having one normal child. But there is a greater risk of the second twin dying in utero. If you go ahead and have a section today then the second twin could still die, and the bigger one still has a chance of complications. But there is a chance both could survive.'
'I don't want either of my babies to die,' Claire cried. 'I love them both. I can't sacrifice one for the other.'
'We will go along with whatever you decide, of course,' Raphael said. 'I just wanted to make sure you understand the options.'
'Thank you for your frankness, Dr Castillo,' Roy said quietly. 'I wonder if my wife and I could have a moment to discuss it?'
'You don't have to make up your minds right now,' Annie interjected. 'Go home. Have a think about it. Then let us know.'
'From what you tell us, every day we delay is a day that one of our babies could die. No, I think we need to decide now, today. We just need some time.' He looked up at Annie and she recoiled from the naked pain in his eyes. She had grown fond of the couple and she would have given anything in her power to make everything all right for them. But it wasn't in her power, she admitted sadly as she followed Raphael out of the room, leaving Claire in Roy's arms. They had done everything they could.
In the staff room Raphael turned to face Annie.
'Are you okay?' he asked gently.
Annie nodded glumly. 'I just wish we could wave a magic wand and make everything all right for them. They want this so much.' Her voice broke and before she knew it Raphael had pulled her into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest as he stroked her hair.
'You shouldn't take every case so much to heart, cariño.'
She let herself relax in his arms. Here it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen to her, or to anyone else. In his arms she felt as if she'd come home. Reluctantly, she eased herself away from him. She had to remember that all he was offering her was friendship. Even if her beating heart reminded her that she wanted so much more.
Raphael looked down at her, his dark eyes glowing, and Annie caught her breath. She knew she must be mistaken, but he was looking at her as if...as if he wanted to kiss her. The air fizzled and crackled between them, just as it had the night they'd met, and Annie felt her world tilt.
Before either of them could move, Roy appeared at the door, mercifully oblivious to the atmosphere in the room.
'We've made our decision,' he said.
Back inside the consulting room, Claire had dried her tears and was sitting pale-faced but composed.
'We are going to take Dr Castillo's advice and wait,' she said calmly, looking Annie directly in the eyes. 'I know we might lose one this way, but we have waited so long to have children we just can't take the chance of losing them both. It's not about whether they'll have problems, I will love my children regardless and with Roy and his family's support we would cope. No, it's the thought that if I have a section now, I could lose both my children. I cannot risk that.'
'For what it's worth,' Raphael said, 'I think it's the right decision. But I'm going to suggest you attend day-care clinic twice a week so we can monitor you. I know it will be difficult for you, but it means if there is a sudden change we can act quickly.'
'I think you're being very brave,' Annie added. 'It's an impossible decision, but we are going to do everything we can to see you through it.' Glancing up, she caught the gleam of approval in Raphael's eyes. Almost imperceptibly he nodded at her. But it wasn't that she necessarily agreed with him, it was simply that the couple having made up their minds needed her full support. She just hoped for all their sakes that they had made the right choice.
ALMOST imperceptibly, Annie and Raphael developed a routine. Every evening, when he wasn't on call, Raphael would call at the cottage and after he had interrogated her about her health they would go for a walk down to the harbour. They would talk about Spain and Penhally Bay and places they had been on holiday. Everything, it seemed, except what was going to happen once the baby was born. But Annie didn't want to spoil the fragile peace between them. They discovered a shared love of opera and Annie admitted she loved country and western music and Raphael teased her about it. He told her that he played the guitar sometimes for the flamenco dancers for which his home town was famous.
'You must come back to Spain,' he said. 'There is so much I want to show you.'
Whenever he suggested it, which was often, Annie would smile. 'Of course I'll want to bring him or her to Spain. I want my child to grow up knowing about all their family.'
The evenings were getting lighter every day as her bump grew larger. Annie saw Kate at the surgery for her check-ups and the senior midwife declared herself happy with Annie's progress. Her baby was due at the end of September and towards the end of June, Annie decided that it was time to prepare the nursery. If she waited much longer she'd never be able to balance on the stepladder.
And that was where Raphael found her one evening when she was up the ladder, painting the wall of the soon-to-be nursery.
'Come down at once,' he said crossly. He had stopped waiting for Annie to open the door to him and would just come in after a brief warning knock.
'Whatever for? I've still a good half of the wall to do.' She carried on painting. 'If you want to help, grab a brush from over there.' As she indicated the brushes and paint for the wall, the ladder wobbled and Annie almost lost her balance. But in a flash Raphael was up the ladder, steadying her against him.
'Be careful, cariño,' he said. 'Please come down.'
'Hey, I'm okay. I just lost my balance for a moment. I wouldn't have fallen.' But Raphael clearly wasn't in the mood for an argument. He picked her up and lifted her down from the ladder. He held her tight against him and she could feel the thudding of his heart through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Her body melted into his, at least as far as her abdomen would let her, and his arms moved down her body, pressing her closer. Annie felt dizzy with desire. Before she could help herself her arms snaked around his neck and she was lifting her face to his.
Gently he disentangled her arms from around his neck and stood back.
'I don't think it would be a good idea,' he said.
Annie was mortified. What on earth had got into her? Given the slightest bit of encouragement, she would have kissed him. It was what she longed to do. It was what she had been longing to do for weeks now, she realised with a thud of her heart. It didn't matter what she told herself, she found him as devastatingly gorgeous and sexy as the day she had first met him. She had tried to pretend that she didn't but she could no longer hide it from herself. Or from him, she thought ruefully. There was no mistaking her intent---at least not for a man as experienced as Raphael.
'No,' she said shortly. 'I can see that a heavily pregnant woman might not be everyone's cup of tea.'
'Mierda,' he groaned under his breath. 'You should see yourself. I doubt there is a woman in the world who looks more beautiful than you do right now. But it is not right. We have to be sensible. What is the point in having sex---no matter how much I would like to---when we are just becoming friends?'
Regardless of what he said, Annie felt rejected. Did he think she was trying to seduce him, to force him into a deeper relationship?
'I'm sorry,' she said stiffly. 'I don't know what I was thinking.' Then she tried a smile to ease some of the tension. 'They do say some women react like that to pregnancy hormones. I'm clearly one of them.'
Raphael looked at her quizzically then opened his mouth as if he were about to say something. But then he seemed to change his mind and picked up a paintbrush.
'I will finish this,' he said. 'You put your feet up and rest.'
'I'm not tired! In fact, I feel great. I'll make us something to eat,' she said.
By the time she returned from the kitchen to tell him the meal was ready, Raphael had finished the room. He stood back and surveyed his work, looking decidedly pleased with himself.
'I wonder what it will be. A boy or a girl.'
'We'll just have to wait to find out,' Annie teased.
Raphael wiped his hand across his forehead, leaving a yellow streak of paint behind. Impulsively, Annie stood on tiptoe to wipe away the smear.
Raphael reached up and trapped her hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, sending a jolt of electricity all the way to her toes. Before she knew it, he was kissing her. Deep, searching kisses as if he wanted to possess her very soul. But even as she felt herself melt in his arms, Annie knew it was a mistake. Breathlessly she pulled away. They stood looking at each other. Before either of them could speak, Raphael's pager bleeped. He looked at the number and frowned. 'It's the hospital. Can I use your phone?'
As soon as he replaced the phone a little later, Annie knew something was up.
'It's Claire,' he said. 'She's gone into labour. I need to go to the hospital. I promised her I would do her section.'
'I'm coming with you,' Annie said, picking up her jacket.
'Of course. I know they both want you there.'
As they drove, they discussed Claire.
'At least she's made it to twenty-eight weeks,' Annie said as Raphael negotiated the narrow lanes to the hospital. Annie had been present when Raphael had scanned Claire the day before. Everyone had been relieved to see the second twin's heart was still beating strongly.
'Yes. It's better than I hoped or expected.'
'The twins will need to spend a few weeks in Special Care. But let's just hope the second twin survives.'
Too busy concentrating on the road, Raphael didn't reply.
As soon as they arrived at the hospital they rushed down to theatre and were ready and waiting by the time Claire was wheeled in with an apprehensive Roy at her side.
Annie bent over the mother to be and smiled reassuringly. 'You'll be a mum soon,' she whispered.
Claire looked up at her with frightened eyes. 'I'm scared, Annie. So scared.'
'Everything will be okay,' Annie said. 'You've done really well to have managed this far. And both hearts are beating strongly. We'll need to take your babies up to Special Care as soon as they are delivered. But we'll let you see them as soon as we can. Okay?'
As soon as Claire's spinal block was working, Raphael made his first incision. It wasn't the first time Annie had seen him operate, but she never tired of the way his brow furrowed as he concentrated. He operated quickly, without wasting any time. Within minutes he was removing the bigger of the twins. As Annie stepped forward to take the girl from Raphael she was pleased to note that the first baby was a good size and, as it gave a loud cry, with a good set of lungs. The second twin was a little boy, and was more of a concern. He was very small and Annie knew that his parents were in for weeks of worry while his lungs developed fully. Very briefly, as promised, Annie showed Claire and Roy their babies before handing them over to the paediatrician.
'They're both so tiny,' Claire whispered.
'They both have a good chance, Claire,' Annie said. 'They'll look after them upstairs. I'll take you up to see them as soon as possible.'
Claire looked from Annie to Raphael, tears glistening in her eyes.
'Thank you,' she whispered.
Annie smiled back. She had a good feeling about the twins.
Later, after they had left Claire and Roy, Raphael drove them both back to Annie's house. Neither of them spoke, each too preoccupied with their thoughts. Annie thought back to the kiss they had shared. She had known that she loved him, had known from the day she had met him that she loved him, she just hadn't been able to admit it to herself. Whatever she had felt for Robert, it had come no where near the feelings she had for Raphael. Whenever he was near every atom in her body seemed to come alive, and when he wasn't there she missed him desperately.
She sneaked a glance at him from under her lashes. He was like the missing piece of the jigsaw that was her life. But it was no use. Although he was attracted to her, he didn't love her. And Annie would never again be with someone who didn't feel about her the way she felt about them. Whatever pain lay in store for her, she would have to deal with it. Even though it would be torture to see him, share her child with him, stand by while he married someone else, she had no choice. As long as he wanted to be part of their child's life, she would have to let him. She just had to make sure he never guessed how she felt about him.
The days passed and Annie felt well and continued to revel in feeling the life growing inside her. Although she still had a few weeks to go, she was happy that everything was ready for the baby. Raphael had finished painting the nursery and he had assembled the cot, with her passing him the tools, much in the same way as she passed him instruments in theatre. At the hospital they worked together often and had developed an easy understanding of how each other worked. Raphael's reputation was spreading and more and more patients, especially those with high-risk pregnancies, were asking to see him.
After her clinic one morning, Annie went in search of Raphael and she found him in the doctors' lounge, chatting with Ben Carter.
As soon as Raphael spotted her he stood and went across to her. He touched her hand. 'What is it, Annie? Are you okay?' His concern never ceased to touch her, although she knew it was mainly for his unborn child. They still hadn't spoken about what would happen after the birth. For the time being, Annie was content to let things ride.
'I've just seen Tilly down at the clinic. I wanted her to see you, but she wouldn't stay.'
'What's going on with her?' Raphael asked. 'Her blood-glucose control was terrible the last time we saw her. I had hoped she would have managed to bring it under control with changes to her diet and increasing her insulin.'
'That's just it. Her glucose profile was even worse today and the baby is much bigger than it should be for her dates.'
Raphael chewed his lip, looking thoughtful. 'Does her partner come with her?'
'He wasn't here today.'
'It would be useful to know what he thinks,' Raphael said. 'Tell you what, why don't I call in on them on my way home tonight? Would that help, do you think?'
Annie was relieved. She couldn't explain it but she felt really uneasy about Tilly. The young woman wasn't looking after herself and Annie knew she would be devastated if she lost her baby. Why wasn't she looking after herself better? Was it simply that Annie and Raphael hadn't managed to get across how crucial this was for the health of her baby?
'We should both go,' Annie said. 'I'll meet you there after work. Say about sixish. Would that be okay?'
'I have an elective section this afternoon after my main list is finished. But I should be able to make it, if everything goes according to plan. Which it will do.' He grinned down at her.
Her heart flipped. There was something so supremely confident about Raphael. In another man it might have come across as arrogance, but in him it was simple recognition of his own ability.
'But before theatre I have a postnatal ward round to do,' he continued. 'Are you joining me?'
Annie watched as Raphael went to see each of his patients. Each woman got the same attention, as if she were the most important person in the world to him right at that moment. If someone's baby was crying, Raphael would pick it up and rock it in his arms while he talked to the woman. He always managed to find some compliment for each baby that left the mother smiling with pride, believing her baby to have been singled out for particular praise. But it wasn't an act. Annie could see he was genuinely interested. It was a different side to Raphael, one she had seen countless times since he had come to work at St Piran's but it never ceased to surprise her. How much more tender he would be with his own child she could only guess at.
'I thought Spanish men were too macho to coo over babies,' she teased him as they made their way out of the ward.
'Coo?' He looked at her, puzzled. 'What is this coo? It doesn't sound very nice.'
'Fuss. That's what it means,' Annie replied.
'Spanish men love children,' he said. 'We don't see them as inconveniences to be hidden away, like some countries. I would like a whole brood of them one day. A football team---or at least a five-a-side.'
Annie felt her heart crack a little. It was another reason why she and Raphael would never be anything except coparents. The baby she was carrying was enough of a miracle. There would never be any more for her.
Annie knocked on the door of Tilly's small cottage but there was no reply. It was strange. She had telephoned after speaking to Raphael to warn her that they would be calling in around six. Perhaps Tilly had popped out to the shops?
She knocked again and then tried the door, and was surprised to find it unlocked. She opened it and walked in. The residents sometimes left their doors unlocked in the winter, but with the influx of tourist at this time of year, people tended to be more careful. The house didn't feel empty. Music was playing on the radio and there was a bag of unpacked shopping at the door, as if it had been abandoned. Immediately Annie felt alarm bells ringing. She stepped further into the house, calling out Tilly's name. Perhaps she had gone for a bath? But then as soon as she entered the sitting room she saw her. Tilly was lying on the floor, unmoving, and Annie rushed to her side, dropping to her knees. The young woman was unconscious and Annie made sure Tilly was breathing before pushing her over on her side into the recovery position. She smelt for the distinctive odour of ketones, but it wasn't there. Tilly must be having a hypo. So she needed to get sugar in to her system. Quickly, she rummaged in her bag. Did she still have the glucose gel she kept for emergencies? Thankfully, she discovered it hidden under a glucose test kit---she'd need that too. Taking a generous dollop from the container she spread the gel inside Tilly's lips, hoping the sugar would be absorbed rapidly.
She wondered how long Tilly had been lying unconscious. Where was John? Shouldn't he be home by now? And where was Raphael? She could do with his help. She bent over Tilly, pricking her finger with the stylet from the testing kit. Her glucose was dangerously low, no wonder she was unconscious. She needed to get her to hospital. She was digging in her shoulder bag for her mobile when she heard Raphael's voice calling out her name.
He stood there, taking in the scene with a glance.
'I found her here like this just a couple of minutes ago. She's having a bad hypo. I've put some glucose gel on her lips, but so far it's having no effect and I haven't had a chance to check the baby yet. I was just about to call for an ambulance when you arrived.'
'What about glucagon?' he said, crouching beside Annie and checking Tilly's pulse. 'We teach all the diabetic mothers to use it an emergency. She must a keep a syringe of it somewhere handy.' He took the Sonicaid Annie held out to him. 'I'll check the foetal heart while you see if you can find it.'
'Shouldn't I phone for an ambulance first?'
'No, if we can get some glucagon into her that'll buy us the time we need. She could do with a drip, too.'
'Found it!' Annie exclaimed, taking the cover off the prefilled syringe and plunging the needle into Tilly's leg. Thankfully she had left it in full view on the side table.
'She should come round quickly now,' Raphael said, and sure enough Tilly groaned. Over her stirring form Raphael and Annie smiled at each other. Their eyes locked and Annie felt her world spin on its axis. He was looking at her as if...Then his eyes seemed to lose their warmth---as if she was a professional he admired, she admonished herself. Nothing more.
'We still need to get her to hospital. The baby seems fine, but her diabetes is so badly controlled I'm not sure we should let the pregnancy continue much longer. She's thirty-five weeks. Maybe it's just as well to get her delivered.'
'I need to find out what's going on with her when we get her to hospital,'Annie said. 'I know how much she wants this baby so for her to be taking chances with her health like this seems out of character.'
'There will be time for that later. I agree it's important, but right now we have to make sure that the baby stays healthy long enough to be delivered. I suggest that once she comes round completely, we put her in the back of my car and take her there ourselves. If that's okay with you?'
Annie nodded. She'd feel happier once she knew that Tilly was in hospital where she could be properly looked after.
Tilly stirred and her eyes focused gradually on Annie. 'Where am I? What happened? Where's John?' She tried to sit up, her eyes frantically searching the room. As soon as she realised John wasn't there she sank back down and began to cry quietly. 'He didn't come back, did he? He's never coming back. What am I going to do?'
'Hush, Tilly,' Annie soothed. 'You slipped into a hypo, but you and your baby are all right now. Dr Castillo is here and we're going to take you to hospital. We can find John later. You can phone him from the ward.'
'You don't understand,' Tilly wailed. 'He's not coming back. He doesn't want me or the baby.' And then as Annie put her arms around the heaving shoulders of her distressed patient, Tilly sobbed as if her heart would break.
By the time they had Tilly settled in the ward it was almost eight. Annie was feeling tired and hungry. She and Raphael agreed that they would wait until the next day before making a decision whether or not to deliver Tilly's baby early.
'She's thirty-five weeks,' Raphael said as they made their way to his car. 'Obviously I'd prefer to wait another couple of weeks but I don't think we can afford to take the risk.'
'At least these days a thirty-five-weeker has an excellent chance of doing well. I agree with you, the longer we wait the riskier for Tilly's baby.'
Raphael opened the door of his car for Annie and helped her in. As she sat back in the leather seat Annie yawned. 'I think I'll go straight to bed,' she said. 'I'm too exhausted even to think about cooking.' Raphael looked at her sharply but slid the car into gear without saying anything.
'I wish Tilly had told me she and John were having problems,'Annie said. 'I would have kept a closer eye on her had I known.'
'What kind of man leaves his partner to cope with a pregnancy on her own?' Raphael said savagely. 'Especially when he knows there are difficulties.'
'From what she told us, they had been having problems for a while. That's why she got pregnant. She thought it would bring them back together. Poor girl.'
'Irresponsible, you mean,' Raphael said. 'Gambling with her own health as well as the health of her baby.'
'I don't think you can be too hard on her,' Annie said. 'She loves John and she really wants this baby. Sometimes we all do things that aren't completely rational. At least, I do. Can you say you've never done anything that wasn't logically thought out?'
He turned his head towards her and looked as if he were about to say something then thought better of it. 'I just wish people would realise that a baby isn't an accessory,' he said. 'That they are a commitment for life. Not just something you have on a whim.'
Annie heard the underlying bitterness to his words and knew he was thinking about Sebastian.
'It is not our job to be judgemental,' Annie insisted. 'Our job is to ensure a healthy baby at the end. Just that. And if that means getting involved with their lives to make sure of that outcome, it's all part of the job. At least, that's the way I see it.'Annie broke off, aware that she sounded heated. But to her, patients weren't just pregnant women, they were women with lives, women like Tilly with relationship problems, women like her who had to balance motherhood with a career, women who had financial worries, and all of that had to be taken into consideration.
Raphael pulled up outside her house and switched off the ignition. 'You really care about them all, don't you?' he said. 'They all matter.' He looked into the distance and Annie could see the lines of tiredness creasing his eyes---or was it sadness? 'But what about the fathers?' he continued softly. 'Don't they have rights too? Don't they play an important part?' He laughed mirthlessly. 'Or do we exist just to provide the sperm?'
Annie turned to Raphael. 'I know your wife hurt you badly,' she said, 'but not every woman is like her. Most of us just want...' She hesitated. 'Most of us want a loving relationship, someone to share the ups and downs of life. And if a baby is part of that...so much the better.' She had to force herself to look at him. 'I know we got it the wrong way round. In an ideal world, I would be having a baby with someone who loved me.' A muscle twitched in his jaw as he studied her intently. He looked as far away from Annie as she had ever seen him. 'But at least I know my baby will have a father who will cherish him. Who will, I know, be there for him. And when it comes down to it, that is the most important thing of all.'
Suddenly the clouds vanished from his eyes. 'What is important that you eat and then get some rest. Come on, let's see what you have in that fridge. I may not be any good at making toast but I can cook a great frittata.'
Annie thought about protesting. She didn't know whether she had the energy to deal with Raphael in her house. It was hard enough to hide the way she felt about him at work, but alone with him, with her guard down? The last thing she wanted was for him to guess, if, God forbid, he hadn't already done so. But Raphael was already out of the car and was holding her door open.
'I won't take no for an answer,' he said firmly. 'You're tired. Making you something to eat is the least I can do.'
He stretched out a hand and Annie had no choice but to take it. As she felt his hand wrap around hers she felt a warmth suffuse her body. It would be so good to have someone who cared about her. Someone who wanted this baby as much as she did, because they had deliberately made it out of love. But that wasn't going to happen. But just this once, just for tonight, even if it was only inside her head, couldn't she pretend that they were a normal couple looking forward to the birth of their baby, knowing they had the rest of their lives to look forward to?
'I want to do something for you.' He looked at her intently. 'Please?'
She couldn't refuse the look of entreaty in his deep brown eyes.
'Okay,' she said. 'I give in. Just as long as it is better than the breakfast you made me.'
Annie showered, leaving Raphael to rummage around in her kitchen for the ingredients for a meal. By the time she returned, delicious smells of bacon and garlic were wafting through the kitchen.
'What can I do?' she asked.
'Nothing. Just sit there and look beautiful,' Raphael replied, settling her into an armchair.
'I'm not ill, you know,' she protested, but she couldn't stop a smile from creeping across her face. He had called her beautiful. Did he really think so, or was it just part of the patter he gave every woman? The thought wiped the smile off her face. Don't think about that just now, she told herself. Just enjoy being here with him tonight.
After they had eaten---and Raphael was right, the frittata was delicious---Raphael made them some coffee. They sat in companionable silence for a while.
'What are you hoping for?' Raphael asked suddenly. 'A boy or a girl?'
'Oh, I don't mind. I'm just so happy to be having a baby at all. As long as it's healthy...' She laughed. 'You know, when mothers used to say that, I wasn't ever sure whether I believed them or not. Now I know that they meant it.' Suddenly she felt a kick just below her ribs. 'Oops,' she said. 'The way this one is kicking, I think we may have a footballer on our hands.'
In a flash, Raphael was off his chair and on his knees beside her. He looked up, searching her eyes. 'Can I feel?' he asked.
She nodded, suddenly breathless. He placed his hand gently on her stomach, just as the baby gave another vigorous kick. As she looked down on Raphael's bent head, she was tempted to place her hand on his thick curls and run her fingers through his hair. It took all her willpower to resist the impulse. Especially when he looked up at her and she saw the tenderness in his eyes.
'I would like a girl,' he said. 'One who looks just like you. A girl who is just like you.'
Her breath caught in her throat. He reached up and took her hand, kissing each finger in turn. The pressure of his lips was an exquisite pain and every bit of her cried out to be taken in his arms and kissed senseless.
Slowly he rose to her feet and pulled her upright. Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her. Unsure, she pulled away slightly but as he held her closer, dropping his hands to her hips, there was no mistaking his desire for her. She closed her eyes and gave in to the feelings shooting around her body. If he hadn't been holding her, she didn't think her legs could have kept her upright.
Suddenly he pulled away. He was breathing deeply, his eyes black with desire. She almost whimpered when she felt him release her.
'Mierda,' he said. 'It is not good to make love. Not now.'
But then she was back in his arms. His hands were on her breasts, his touch sending hot flashes of need to her groin. Slowly he pulled open her dressing gown, revealing her bra and panties and her swollen belly. She covered her belly with her hands, feeling shy.
'Let me see,' he demanded. 'Don't you know how beautiful you are to me, especially now, with my baby growing inside you?'
He eased the dressing gown off her shoulders and lowered her onto the rug beside the fire, the flickering light playing across his features. He dipped a hand under her bra and she felt her nipples tighten in response. Why was he doing this? He had just said they couldn't make love. Then his hand reached behind her back and he undid the clip of her bra. Her breasts sprang free and he cupped them, his thumbs circling her nipples sending shock waves of pleasure through her.
'Ah,' he said, a smile on his lips 'But I didn't say there weren't other ways of making love that would be safe for the baby.' He trailed a hand down over her stomach. His hand rested there for a moment, then he lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Annie was lost. She could no more have stopped him than she could have carried an elephant on her back. Every touch of his fingers made her want more. The sensations in her body were overpowering. She knew it wouldn't be long before she had to give in, but at the same time she never ever wanted him to stop doing what he was doing.
His hand resting on her belly slid lower until it was resting just at the top of her panties. He pulled his head away and looked into her eyes. 'Do you want me to stop?' he asked. She shook her head, unable to speak. She had just enough time to see the triumph in his eyes before he was slipping his hand under the silk and between her legs. Then she was moving against him, unable to prevent her body's response to his touch. Then slowly, as he touched her gently at first, then with increasing pressure and pace, she felt her body explode with pleasure and she cried his name.
Eventually the world steadied around them and Raphael held her in his arms as her breathing returned to normal. She wondered at his self-control, that he could have the restraint to love her without asking anything in return. All of a sudden she felt shy again. She reached over and undid his belt and he groaned as she touched him lightly with her fingers and pulled her closer.
'You don't have to,' he said, as if the words physically hurt him.
'But I want to,' Annie said quietly. She knelt over him and undid the buttons of his jeans, then they were off and he was lying naked beside her. Remembering from the night they had met, she touched him the way he liked it, teasing him, slowing down, sometimes stopping when she sensed he was near then starting again. Then when she knew he couldn't take much more she used both her hands until he, holding her in a vicelike grip, gave in to his own climax.
Later they lay in each other's arms. Annie laid her head on the smoothness of Raphael's chest where she could hear the steady thump, thump of his heart. His hands stroked her hair, smoothing it away from her eyes.
'Will you marry me, Annie?' he said.
Annie sat bolt upright. She felt a zing of happiness course through her veins. He wanted to marry her. He must feel the same way she did. The connection they had felt that first night was still there; it hadn't gone away.
'Pardon?' she said, wanting to make sure she had heard him right. 'What did you say.'
He sat up, grinning at her. The light bounced off his bronzed skin. She had never thought him so sexy as she did right them. She knew she loved every inch of him. His thoughtfulness, his humour, even his old-fashioned masculinity, and he loved her! It was almost too much to take in. She had resigned herself to never finding someone who loved her the way she needed to be loved. Wholeheartedly, without reservation, and now, just when she had thought she couldn't be happier...
'We could live in Spain. You, me and the baby. Be a family,' he said. 'A real family.'
An icy shiver ran up Annie's spine. She couldn't help but notice that he hadn't said he loved her.
'Live in Spain? But my job is here, my parents, my friends,' she said quietly. If he loved her, surely he'd be prepared to be wherever she was?
'You would be part of my family. My mother would welcome you like her own daughter. She will love you. I am sure of it.'
But still he hadn't said he loved her.
'And as for your job, you don't need to work. I have plenty of money and besides a woman should be at home with her child, no?'He continued, seemingly oblivious to her silence, 'Of course, then there will be no need to go to the lawyers for access.'
She was furious. She stood, picking up her discarded dressing gown and pulling it on over her shoulders.
'So that is what this is about,' she said through clenched teeth. 'My God, Raphael, is there nothing you wouldn't do to get your own way? Had you planned this all along? Did you really think that after you made love to me, I'd be so grateful that I would go along with your plans? Was this the only way left to get your child with you in Spain? And if the price you have to pay for that is marriage to a woman you don't really love, then so be it.'
She picked up his jeans and T-shirt and flung them at him. 'But what about what I want? Did that cross your mind? Please don't imagine for one minute that I would enter into a loveless marriage, no matter how convenient.'
If she hadn't been so angry she might have laughed at the bewilderment on Raphael's face as he slipped on his T-shirt and jeans. But she was in no mood for laughing. How could she have let her guard down? She knew how much Raphael wanted this baby and she had completely underestimated the lengths he would go to to get what he wanted.
'Let yourself out,' she said. 'I'm going to bed.'
AFTER leaving Annie's, Raphael decided to go for a walk on the beach. He was far too restless to go to sleep and he needed time to think. He always thought better when he was doing something. He had thought about following her into the bedroom and trying to explain, but something told him that Annie was in no mood to listen to him, let alone believe him. Dios, he thought ruefully, she is like a tiger when she is angry. He had never seen her other than quiet and calm, but he didn't find the new side to Annie off-putting. He was delighted that there was still lots more to find out about her. And whatever she thought right now, he fully intended that they would have time to discover each other.
The night sky was shot with lilac. Until recently he had wondered if he had done the right thing coming here. He thought back to the day he had met Annie. He had been hurting then, and the pain he had seen reflected in her eyes had drawn him to her. It hadn't just been her beauty, although with her pale skin and light green eyes and that luscious body, there was no denying he had been powerfully attracted to her. So attracted he hadn't been able to stop himself taking her to bed, even though he had known in his soul that it was dangerous. And he had been right. But she had turned out to be dangerous in a way he couldn't have possibly imagined.
When he'd found out she was pregnant he hadn't been sure she was telling him the truth. After all, he had been deceived before. But the more he learned about her, the more he knew that she didn't have a deceitful bone in her body. She was too transparent for a start. He wondered if she realised how every emotion showed on her face---he always knew what she was thinking. But the worst thing of all was he knew he was falling in love with her. He couldn't stop thinking about her, he couldn't stop himself remembering how she had felt in his arms. Her soft, silky skin, the smell of her perfume, the way the pulse beat at the base of her throat, the way her thick hair fell across his face when they were making love covering him in her scent. And it wasn't just a physical attraction he felt any longer. If it had been he knew he would have been able to deal with that. It was her innate kindness, her laugh, the way she smiled, her mouth curving at the corners, and the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy.
He groaned aloud and, picking up a pebble, he threw it into the sea where it skipped over the waves. It was too late. He wasn't falling in love with her. He already loved her. With a passion. All he had to do now was persuade her that he meant it.
After Raphael left, Annie made herself a cup of tea, still fuming. How could she have been so naïve? She rubbed her back. She'd had a dull ache all day and now it was getting worse. A flicker of fear shot through her as her abdomen cramped. Dear God, no! She couldn't be going into labour. It was far too early. She was only twenty-eight weeks.
'Okay,' she told herself. 'Keep calm.' It could be Braxton-Hicks contractions, couldn't it? Or a tummy bug. It was one thing being a trained midwife and being able to reassure her patients, but quite another being the patient herself. She looked at her watch. Ten o'clock. It was late, but Kate or Chloe would probably still be awake. She could phone one of them, just for reassurance. She could also phone Raphael, of course, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Right now he was the last person she wanted to speak to. She had told him she could cope perfectly well without him so she could hardly call him every time she felt a twinge.
Making up her mind, she phoned Kate. Happily she hadn't gone to bed, but straight away Kate picked up on Annie's anxiety.
'What is it, Annie?' she said. 'Is something wrong?'
'It's probably nothing,' Annie said. 'But I've been having some lower back pain and some cramping. I'm probably being over-anxious, but I just wondered...' As she said the words a sharp tight pain squeezed her abdomen and she gasped.
'I'm coming,' Kate said. 'But first I'm going to call an ambulance. Only as a precaution. Just hold on, Annie, I'll be there in ten minutes.'
Now Annie was seriously frightened. If Kate was calling for an ambulance, she must be worried too. But they had to be wrong. She couldn't be going into labour. She just couldn't. It was far too early. But Annie knew that it was entirely possible. The chances of premature labour had slightly increased after she'd had the miscarriage scare. Kate would know that, too. It was probably why she had called the ambulance. She sat down as another wave of pain washed through her body. She wrapped her arms around her body, almost as if by doing so she could keep her baby safe inside her. If she was going into labour she needed to get to hospital, perhaps there they could give her something to stop it. Every day the baby stayed safe in her womb was crucial at this point.
Unaware of how much time had passed since she had called Kate, she was relieved when she heard a knock on the door. Thank God, she thought. Kate had arrived. Maybe everything would still be okay.
Raphael had decided to go back and see Annie. Whatever she said, they needed to talk. He had to tell her how he felt.
But one look at her, curled up in the armchair, her eyes wild with terror, was enough to send his heart crashing against his ribs.
Before he could breathe he was by her side.
'What is it, Annie?' he said, taking in her pale face and pinched lips.
She moaned and clutched her stomach. 'The baby,' she gasped. 'I think it's coming.'
She reached out a hand and gripped his arm. 'Make it stop, Raphael. It's too early, please make it stop. I can't lose my baby. You have to help me.'
Raphael forced his own fear away. He needed to be strong for Annie right now.
'Tell me,' he said gently.
'I've been having backache all day, but it was different from before. I just thought I had strained a muscle doing yoga. But now I've started cramping.' Her eyes shimmered with tears as she looked up at him. 'I phoned Kate. She's phoning for an ambulance and then she's coming.'
Raphael's heart contracted. She had gone to someone else---not him---when she had needed help. She must really hate him. But he couldn't let himself think of that right now. All that mattered was making sure that Annie was all right. Even the baby...his heart twisted...wasn't as important as Annie.
In the distance he could hear the wail of the ambulance and the door opened and Kate burst in, carrying her medical bag.
'Dr Castillo. I didn't realise you were here. What's going on?'
'I haven't had time to make an assessment,' he said. 'But I'm afraid it sounds as if Annie has gone into labour.'
Hearing his words, Annie moaned again and folded in on herself. Raphael had never seen such anguish before. But she mustn't give up hope. Not yet.
He crouched down beside her and lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.
'Listen to me, Annie,' he said. 'I am going to do everything we can to save our baby. You have to believe that. Okay?' It took every bit of strength to keep his voice steady, but he couldn't let Annie see how terrified he was.
Annie looked back at him, her eyes wide with pain and fear. But he saw resolve in her eyes. His Annie was stronger than she realised.
Kate passed him the Sonicaid from her bag so he could listen to the foetal heart. He felt almost weak with relief when he heard a steady beat.
'Baby's heartbeat is strong, Annie. We can do a better assessment when we get you to hospital.' He could hear the wail of the ambulance getting closer. 'Perhaps we'll be able to give you steroids. There may still be a chance we can stop labour.'
He looked over at Kate.
'Can you gather a couple of things, please? I will go with Annie in the ambulance.'
'I'm coming, too,' Kate said firmly. 'Annie is my patient as well as my friend. As far as this baby is concerned, you are the father and not in the best position to make clearheaded judgements. Rob is over at mine, so Jem will be fine.' She took Annie's hand. 'I'll stay with you as long as you need me.' Then she looked at Raphael. 'As long as you both need me.'
Raphael took one look at the determined set of the senior midwife's mouth. He was glad she would be around. Annie needed all the help she could get. She was all that mattered.
Annie was barely aware of being lifted into the ambulance. All she knew was that the pains were stronger and becoming more frequent. She searched Raphael's and Kate's eyes as they bent over her, looking for any sign of optimism, but their expressions were guarded. However she felt about Raphael, she was glad he was there with her. Between him and Kate, Annie knew her baby had the best possible chance, but, if they didn't manage to stop her labour, then her baby would be born at twenty-eight weeks. Annie knew only too well that even if it survived, the chances of complications were hugely increased.
Raphael must have read her mind. He gathered her in his arms, pulling her head against his chest. She felt safe, as if he could protect her from her worst fears.
'We will give you a tocolytic when we get you to hospital,' he said. 'We may still be in time to stop your labour. If we aren't, the baby still has a good chance. Many babies of that gestation do well. You need to remember that.'
'And many don't,' Annie mumbled into his chest. She couldn't even cry now, the fear was too intense. All she wanted was for her baby to live.
Then she was being lifted out of the ambulance. Raphael was shouting orders and Kate was holding her hand. There were lights and people and fear and pain. Then she was in one of the side rooms in the labour ward. Kate was examining her and Annie heard her tell everyone that she was five centimetres dilated. And there was another obstetrician and Julie. Where had she come from? And her obstetrician, Dr Gibson, was talking to Raphael. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she heard the word paediatrician and too late and she was more frightened than ever. But Raphael was by her side again.
'It's too late to stop labour,' he said gently. She looked up and she could see the concern and sympathy in Julie and Kate's eyes.
'Look at me,' Raphael commanded. So she forced herself to look at him, not wanting to, knowing that whatever she saw there would be the truth and she wasn't ready for the truth---she'd never be ready.
Her eyes found his and she read the anguish there. He couldn't hide it from her, no matter how much he wanted to.
'You're going to have our baby---soon.' Annie looked away, but he eased her head around. 'Everyone is ready to help. The paediatrician is here and as soon as the baby is delivered he will be taken up to the special care nursery. They will do everything they can up there to keep our baby alive. Right now, you have to listen to Julie and Kate. And I'll be right here.'
'Don't leave me,' she whispered through lips frozen with fear.
'I'll never leave you, cariño. I'm staying right here. Where I belong.'
Two hours later Annie gave a final push and felt her child slip into the world and into Kate's waiting arms. Desperately she listened, waiting for a sound to let her know her baby lived. She watched as Julie rushed the baby over to the waiting incubator as she and the paediatrician started working over the tiny form.
'You have a little girl,' Kate said. 'Well done.'
'Can I see her?' Annie asked. More than anything else she wanted to hold her baby in her arms. It could well be the last chance she had.
'We need to let Julie and the paediatrician do what they have to, Annie. Let them take care of our daughter,' Raphael said, but she could see his eyes were shining with unshed tears.
Tentatively she reached out her hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. 'Is she breathing? Please, Raphael, go to her.'
Raphael left her side, to be replaced by Kate.
'She is breathing, Annie,' she said. 'And although she's very small, she has a good chance. They'll be taking her away to Special Care as soon as they have her stabilised. They'll take you up to see her in a little while. Try and rest now. I promise you, one of us will let you know the second we have news.'
Annie looked past her to the incubator, but there were too many bodies in the way for her to see properly. She struggled to sit up. She needed to see her baby. Her daughter needed to feel her mother's presence. But Kate pressed her back down.
'Annie, we still need to deliver the placenta. And you'll only get in the way. I know it's horrible, but you need to let us do our job.'
Kate was right, of course. But it was so damned hard not being able to see her child. But just then a tiny cry filtered into the room. Her baby was crying. That was a good sign. There was a flurry of activity around the cot and Raphael came back to stand next to Annie.
'They are taking her upstairs just now,' he said. 'But she is breathing. She is beautiful. The most beautiful baby I have ever seen.' His voice cracked.
Hope flared as she saw the look of wonder in his eyes. He wouldn't look like that if her baby wasn't all right, would he? If she couldn't be with their daughter, at least Raphael could. Her baby wouldn't be alone.
'Go with them,' she whispered. 'Stay with her. She needs you.'
Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed. 'She's haemorrhaging,' Dr Gibson called out. 'Get me some hemabate stat.' There was a flurry of activity and Annie felt panic clench her throat. Who was bleeding? What was happening?
Then Raphael's face swam into view. 'You have a bit of retained placenta,' he said quietly. 'They are giving you something to stop the bleeding.'
'We need to get her to theatre.' It was Dr Gibson. 'Julie, ring down and tell theatre to get ready for us. Then page the anaesthetist. C'mon, everyone, let's get moving.'
Raphael brushed a lock of hair from Annie's eyes. 'Don't be frightened, cariño. Everything's going to be okay. You'll be back on the ward before you know it.'
Annie clutched at his hand, amazed at her own strength. 'I need to see my baby before I go. Please. Just in case...' Her voice caught on a sob. She willed Raphael to understand. If anything went wrong, she might never see her baby.
'There isn't time,' he said. 'We can't afford to wait. We have to take you now.'
'Please, Raphael. Do this for me?'
She could see the hesitation in his eyes. But then he straightened.
'Let her see our baby,' he said urgently.
'There's no time,' Dr Gibson said. 'We have to operate on her now. She could bleed out.'
But Raphael moved towards the incubator. 'It will only take a second,' he said, and, picking up the tightly swaddled infant, he brought her over to Annie.
Annie gazed down at her child. She was barely the size of Raphael's hands and she could see every vein in her translucent skin. As she looked at her Annie knew that she would never again experience the powerful emotions that swept through her body. This was her child, and she would fight tooth and nail for her for the rest of her life.
There was a hush in the room as everyone stopped for a second to watch Annie meet her child.
'You fight,' Annie said to her daughter. 'Don't you dare leave me.'
'We need to take you down to theatre now,' Raphael said gently, and Annie knew that her brief moment with her baby was over. 'I'll be there with you.'
'No, Raphael,' Annie said, mustering the last of her strength. 'You go with our daughter. Please. I'll be all right.'
'I don't want to leave you on your own.' He looked after his departing child, obviously torn.
'She needs you more than I do. Besides, Kate is here. Come and tell me as soon as there is any news. Promise?'
He leaned over and brushed the top of her head with his lips. 'Everything is going to be all right. I'll be back as soon as I can.'
When Annie next opened her eyes, it was to find Raphael looking down at her. Fear clutched her chest but before she could speak, Raphael smiled.
'They stopped the bleeding. They had to put an intrauterine balloon in but it will be removed shortly. You are going to be OK.'
Dazed, Annie looked around. She had a drip in her arm, but apart from feeling a little groggy she was fine. She licked dry lips and, without asking, Raphael poured a glass of water and, slipping his arm behind her shoulders, lifted her slightly so that she could drink. The water was enough to ease Annie's throat sufficiently to speak.
'Where is she? Is she all right? I want to see her.'
'Hey, take it easy, Annie. She's upstairs in Intensive Care. They have her on a respirator, but she's doing well. Our daughter is beautiful.' Annie saw the wonder in his deep brown eyes. But she needed to see her child for herself. That was the only way she could believe that she was all right. She pushed the sheets aside just as Julie entered the room. Annie had worked with Julie many times before and knew the experienced midwife well.
'And just what do you think you are doing?' Julie said, lifting Annie's legs and popping her back into bed.
'I want to see my child, Julie,'Annie said. 'Then I'll come back to bed. I promise.'
'No way,' Julie said firmly. It was a different side to the midwife, one that Annie hadn't seen before, but, then, she hadn't been a patient before. 'You are not leaving this bed. Not until I say so.'
Annie looked across at Raphael. She had to see their daughter. She just had to.
'Raphael, please. Tell them I can go upstairs. Only for a moment. I'll do as I'm told after that.'
Raphael looked at Annie. His eyes softened. 'I'll take responsibility,' he said. 'We'll take the drip with us and put her in a wheelchair. She's so stubborn, if we don't take her she'll be up there as soon as we aren't looking, anyway.'
Julie looked indecisive, but before she could protest further, Raphael was helping Annie out of bed.
'I don't need a wheelchair,' Annie protested, but then as her legs buckled she had to lean on Raphael for support.
'It's a wheelchair or nothing,' Julie said. 'Just give me a mo' to fetch one.'
Annie didn't have the strength to argue. Besides, she didn't want to wait a moment longer to see her baby. Only when she saw her for herself would she truly believe what Raphael had told her.
But it was almost more than she could bear when she finally saw her tiny baby. She was almost hidden from view by wires, her face covered by the ventilator that was breathing for her, and Annie felt cold with dread. More than anything in the world she wanted to hold her daughter. Transfer the strength from her own body to that of her child. Let her know that she was there.
'Remember, it looks worse than it is,' Raphael said, resting his hands on her shoulders. 'The lines and wires are there to monitor her as much as anything.'
Annie nodded. She knew all that, of course she did. Plenty of her mothers over the years had had babies that required time in Special Care. But it was one thing telling a mother not to be frightened by the paraphernalia of Special Care and quite another when it was your baby lying there. So small and so helpless.
She slipped a hand through the hole in the incubator and slipped a finger into her daughter's minuscule hand. Her heart filled with wonder as she felt the small fingers close around hers.
'Hello, darling,' she whispered. 'This is your mummy. Everything is going to be okay. But you have to fight.' Turning to Raphael, she could see his anguish in eyes. 'I want you to tell me everything the paediatrician has told you. I don't want to be protected, so keep nothing back from me.' She meant every word. Whatever terror gripped her, she was going to stay strong. Her baby needed her and until she was out of danger...She pushed the thought away. One step at a time.
'As you can see, she is being ventilated. Her lungs aren't fully developed yet, so she'll probably stay on it for a few days at least. They are also giving her surfactant to help her breathing.'
'What about...?' She could hardly bare to say the words, but Raphael guessed what she wanted to know.
'We won't know whether there are any complications---if she's suffered any---until later, Annie. She has to get through the next few days first.' He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. 'Come on, let's get you back to bed. I'll come back up here and stay with her while you sleep.'
'I can't leave her,' Annie whispered.
'You are going to need all your strength in the next few days. And she is going to need her mother fit and healthy.'
'How can I sleep when she is fighting for her life?' But even as she said the words Annie felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. She was so tired.
'You can't stay here, Annie. The nurses need to work on her. But you can come back later, when you have had a rest. You lost a great deal of blood earlier.' He looked at his watch. 'It will be morning soon.'
Reluctantly Annie let Raphael take her back to her room and help her back into bed. 'You will wake me if there is any change, no matter how small?'
'Of course.'
'And you won't leave her?' She clutched his hand. 'I know you must be tired, too.'
'I won't leave her,' he promised. 'I'll watch over her while you sleep.'
Knowing he would be true to his word, Annie closed her eyes and gave in to sleep.
It was getting light when Annie next opened her eyes. As the memory of the night before came flooding back, she panicked.
Her baby. She needed to see her baby. Where was Raphael? Why wasn't he here to let her know what was happening? If he was still in Special Care, did that mean something had happened? Knowing that if she called for a nurse they would try and prevent her from getting out of bed, she pushed the bed covers aside and reached for the dressing gown Kate had packed for her. Then on legs that felt like rubber she slipped upstairs and into the special care nursery.
She found Raphael in a chair by the side of the incubator. He was leaning forward, gazing into the incubator and talking quietly in Spanish. Annie stood silently listening. Although she couldn't understand the words, she knew by the timbre of his voice that he was suffering too.
He must have felt her standing behind him because he turned. Annie drew a sharp breath when she saw his face. He looked gaunt with fatigue, his eyes were shadowed and there were lines on his face that Annie had never seen before. Clearly he hadn't left their baby's side, not even to change or shave. He had told her that he would watch over their baby and he had. There was no doubt he cared about his daughter, but would he feel the same way if she turned out to be less than perfect?
'There's no change. I was going to come and see you,' he said. 'The nurses were supposed to ring up as soon as you were awake.'
'They didn't know. I slipped out when no one was looking. I know the night sister well and she would have tried to stop me. I didn't want to take that risk.' She bent over the cot. Her daughter was still on the respirator and there were wires everywhere. But she was alive. That was all that mattered.
Raphael stood next to her.
'Have you thought of a name? We should name her.'
Annie felt fear claw her throat again. Why was he so keen? Was he about to suggest that they had her baptized---just in case? She shook her head.
'I would like to call her Angela, after my mother.' She took a deep steadying breath and clenched her hands so hard that the nails dug into her palms.
Raphael put his arms around her and held her close. For a moment she resisted, then as he whispered her name she couldn't help herself. She clung to him as she gave in to her grief and fear.
'Angela. Little Angelica. It is a good name,' he murmured into her hair.
And then she was only vaguely aware of Raphael leading her away from the cot and into the staff room. The nurses, seeing her distress, quietly stood up and left them alone. Raphael sat in one of the easy chairs and, still holding her, pulled her onto his lap as if she were a child. She wound her arms around his neck and cried until eventually her tears subsided to hiccups.
She hid her face in his chest. She felt safe there, as if nothing bad could ever happen as long as this man held her. He slid a handkerchief under her bowed head and she took it gratefully, using it to dry her face then blow her nose noisily. Eventually she sneaked a glance at his face, knowing, but not caring, that she must look a mess.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I don't usually cry like that, at least not in front of people.'
As he looked down at her with warm brown eyes she suddenly realised she was still curled up in his lap. Embarrassed, she struggled to her feet, but he put a restraining arm around her waist.
'You must not apologise. Not everyone can be strong all the time, and this is a terrible time for you. But you are not alone. Not any longer. I am here with you.'
He sounded more Spanish, almost as if emotion had robbed him of his hitherto perfect English. But he was suffering too. This was a child he had also longed for. But what if Angela didn't pull through? There was nothing to stop Raphael walking away---and she wouldn't try to stop him. Once again she realised how little she actually knew about this man. She loved him, there was no doubt about that, but if he chose to walk away, she would let him.
She rested her head back on his chest and felt him rest his chin on top of her head. They sat there for a while longer, not saying anything, each one alone with their thoughts.
Eventually Annie eased herself out of his arms. 'I'm going to have a shower and get dressed so I can spend the rest of the day with Angela. Then you could go home and get some rest yourself. You must be exhausted.'
'I'm used to not sleeping.' He smiled up at her.
'No argument,' Annie said firmly. 'I want you back here later this afternoon awake and alert. Neither of us will be any use to Angela if we are falling asleep on our feet.'
Raphael looked surprised. He raised an eyebrow at her and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'You must be feeling better, cariño, to be wanting to boss me about.'
Annie's heart melted at the look in his eyes. How she wished everything could be different. If only Raphael could love her, nothing would be impossible.
'Go,' he said, tipping her gently off his lap. 'There is something I need to tell you. But now is not the right time. Soon, I hope. When our child is safe, we will talk. But for now let us do what we have to.'
KATE finished packing the box of fruit, homemade jam and crusty rolls she had bought down at the farmers' market earlier that morning. Although she knew Annie wouldn't feel hungry, she hoped she'd be tempted by the snacks. Chloe was due to pick her up shortly so that the two women could go and see Annie together. They wouldn't stay long, just long enough to let Annie know that they were there if she needed them.
Poor Annie. The next few days, even weeks would be awful for her. But all they could do now was hope.
She thought about what she had found that morning when she'd been showering, and wondered what to do. See a doctor, obviously, although the lump was bound to be nothing. If only Rob wasn't away, she could have discussed it with him. Put it in perspective. She'd told herself a hundred times already that it was probably only a cyst, but the small voice in her head wouldn't go away. What if it wasn't? What then?
The slamming of a car door announced Chloe's arrival.
'Are you ready?' Chloe asked as she came into the kitchen. 'Yum, is that some of the Trevellyans' fab cheese?' she said, pinching a piece and popping it into her mouth. Then she looked at Kate sharply and frowned.
'There hasn't been bad news from the hospital, has there?' she asked anxiously.
'No, the baby's doing okay. If she had taken a turn for the worse, someone would have phoned us.'
'What is it, then? You're looking a bit tired.'
Kate laid her hands on the worktop. She didn't want to burden Chloe with her worries, but she hadn't counted on her friend's intuition.
Chloe came across and laid an arm across her shoulder. 'Kate, I can see something's wrong. You know you can talk to me about anything. Is it Rob? Are you two having problems? Or Jem?'
'No, Jem's fine. He's at football practice. And Rob and I are getting on fine. More than fine, in fact. He's so good to me, and fun to be with. I'd forgotten what that was like.'
'Mmm. He is lovely. And Jem seems to get on with him---unless there are problems there? Or is it Nick? Has he said something to upset you?'
Kate realised that Chloe wasn't going to give up. She knew something was wrong and was clearly determined to get to the bottom of it. The young midwife was the closest thing she had to a best friend. One of the few people who knew the truth about Jem. And Nick.
'I felt a lump in my breast this morning when I was showering,' Kate finally admitted. 'I know it's probably nothing but...'
'But you're going to get it checked out,' Chloe finished for her. 'God, Kate, you must be scared stupid. So the sooner you see someone the better. Have you spoken to any of the doctors? What about Rob? Does he know?'
'Rob's away and it's Saturday so, no, I haven't seen anyone. I only discovered it this morning and I had to go to the farmers' market and I want to see Annie. I'll make an appointment to see Oliver next week.'
'Just like you, Kate, to put the needs of others before your own. You're always taking care of other people and forgetting about yourself. But for once I'm not going to let that happen,' Chloe said firmly. 'Oliver is doing the Saturday morning surgery. I'm positive he'll see you today.'
Chloe ignored Kate's protests about not wanting to bother anyone. She was right, of course, it wasn't an emergency and another day or two wasn't going to make any difference, but she dialled the number of the surgery anyway and asked to be put through to Oliver.
'Hello, darling. Yes, everything's fine. It's Kate. She needs to see someone. Straight away. I mean not in front of any life-and-death emergencies, but today, nevertheless.'
Kate couldn't hear the response on the other end of the line.
'She'll be there,' Chloe said firmly, before disconnecting the call and turning to Kate. 'He can see you at the end of surgery. About twelve? That way we can still go and see Annie if you want.'
Kate gave in, knowing it was useless to argue. 'I promised her I would. So if it's okay with you, I'd like to go as planned. But I had no idea you could be so bossy.' She smiled to show there was no malice in the words. 'You're always so mild-mannered with your patients.'
Chloe smiled back. 'I suspect it's the only way I'll get you to do as you're told.'
Suddenly Kate felt frightened.
'God, Chloe. What if it is cancer? What about Jem? I couldn't bear to leave my son alone. And Polly, the new GP. I persuaded her to come back to Penhally and said I'd be here to support her. She'll be here any day now. Now all this...'
Chloe hugged her fiercely. 'Slow down, Kate. Everything's going to be all right. Remember we have some of the best doctors in the world between here and St Piran's. And as you said, it could be nothing. Maybe just a cyst. Let's just wait and see what Oliver has to say.'
Kate knew that Chloe was right. There was no point in worrying until she had to. And right now she had a patient to see. Annie needed her support.
After checking on Angela, Annie returned to her room for a shower. She kept it short, anxious not to be away from the special care nursery too long.
When she emerged feeling almost human, it was to find Chloe and Kate sitting on her freshly made bed, waiting for her. The sight of her two friends broke the control Annie had been so desperately clinging to. Kate opened her arms and Annie let her hold her as she gave in to the anguish and fear of the last few days. It seemed that Kate was always there whenever Annie needed someone. In the absence of her mother, who was desperately trying to get a flight back to the UK, Kate was the next best thing.
Annie wiped her eyes and managed a shaky laugh. 'For someone who hardly ever cries, that's all I seem to have been doing lately.'
'Hey,' Chloe said gently. 'We all need to let go sometimes. And these are exceptional circumstances. How is she, anyway?'
Annie brought them up to date. There wasn't really that much to tell. The next few days would be critical. 'If Angela survives...' Annie choked on the word but took a steadying breath before continuing, 'Then the next hurdle will be whether her brain has been damaged.'
Kate reached out a soothing hand. 'Everyone is rooting for you both,' she said softly. 'How is Raphael holding up?'
'He's been wonderful,' Annie admitted. 'He's hardly left her side. But he's agreed to go home for a bit as soon as I get back up.' She tried a smile. It was weak, but the best she could manage. 'I don't suppose anyone could bring me some clothes from home? I could ask Raphael, I suppose...'
'Tra-la.' Kate smiled, holding up a small case. 'We called by your house on our way in---I held onto your key last night. I think you'll find everything there. I don't think you can trust a man in these circumstances. He might remember the top, but forget the trousers!'
'You're a love,' said Annie gratefully, and, taking the bag from Kate, rummaged around. 'Bless you, you remembered everything---even my deodorant.'
Kate whipped out another carrier bag. 'I brought you something to eat as well. I popped down to the farmers' market this morning and selected some goodies to tempt you. It's my guess you haven't had anything for some time.'
Annie felt her throat close at the gesture. It was so typical of Kate and Chloe and she really appreciated her friends' support.
'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm going to have to get back. I have a patient who is due to deliver very soon and I promised I'd go and see her,' Chloe said apologetically. 'But I'll pop in later if I get the chance.'
Chloe looked at Kate. 'Call me later?'
Kate nodded. Annie thought she looked tired. There were lines of tension around her mouth she hadn't noticed before.
'Thank you both so much for coming. I know you both have your own lives to be getting on with. And I want to get back upstairs, anyway,' Annie said.
'Hey,' Kate said. 'What are friends for? You know you can call me any time.' She kissed Annie on the cheek. 'Take care. I'll see you soon.'
Annie returned to the special care ward to be given the welcome news that Angela had been taken off the respirator. Instead, two tubes had been inserted into Angela's nostrils and she could see her baby's face clearly for the first time. Her breath caught as she gazed down on the beloved features of her child. Angela's lips were like seashells washed in the ocean, her miniature nose perfect. She has Raphael's hair, Annie thought, taking in the dark hair that covered her head. Carefully she inserted a hand into the incubator and stroked the downy skin of her baby.
She knew then that she would stand between her child and a tank or a tidal wave or a stalking tiger. She would lay down her life without a moment's hesitation over and over again if she had to, but right now she could do nothing for her child. Nothing except wait and watch over her. She became aware of a presence behind her and she didn't have to turn to know it was Raphael.
'If I lose her...' Her voice cracked and she had to take a deep breath before she could continue. 'If I lose her, I don't know what I'll do. I can't imagine wanting to go on.'
She felt his hand on her shoulder and then he turned her so that she was facing him. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her head, forcing her to meet his gaze.
'Don't say that. Never say that. You are stronger than you think. And anyway, I told you I will not let anything happen to her.' His voice was low and urgent, his need to convince her evident in every syllable. Annie desperately wanted to believe him. She dropped her eyes to his achingly tender mouth before slowly raising her eyes to his. Through her fear she could see her pain reflected in his eyes. He too needed comfort, but Annie couldn't offer him any.
'Cariño,' he said, his voice a river of anguish. 'Te quiero con toda mi alma. I love you with all my soul. You and our daughter are my heart, my soul, my future. All I ever want and all I will ever need.' Annie's heart thumped lurched.
Had he really said he loved her? Could he mean it?
He took her hand and placed it on his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart through the thin fabric.
'Do you feel that?' he demanded.
Despite her grief, Annie felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. It was such a Latin gesture. She nodded, the emotion welling up inside her preventing her from speaking.
'As long as my heart keeps beating, I will not let anything happen to you or our child.'
But however much she wanted to believe him, she couldn't. It wasn't in his power to promise anything. Least of all that their child would live.
Kate slipped off the examination couch and picked up her blouse, sliding her arms into the sleeves. Oliver waited until she had finished and was settled in the chair opposite him before he spoke.
'There is a lump there. I can feel it the upper left quadrant. As you said, it could be nothing, a cyst perhaps, but I think we should get it checked out all the same.'
Kate could read the concern in his brown eyes. He was being matter-of-fact, but she could read him like a book. He didn't believe it was a cyst and neither did she.
'Does Rob know?' Oliver continued. 'Can he go with you to the hospital? It's Saturday but I might be able to get one of the surgeons to come in and see you. They'll probably want to do a fine needle biopsy and a mammogram.'
'Rob's away this weekend. He's gone up north to see his mother. I would have gone with him if it hadn't been for Jem.' She stood up and went to look out the window. The day, which had started off dull and threatening to rain, had turned into one of those perfect days. In the distance she could see the tips of the waves as they rolled to shore. There were quite a few boats out as well, a mixture of fishing trawlers and yachts. Kate wished she were out there with them, far away from talk of lumps and biopsies and far away from the terror of what it would mean for her son if she turned out to have cancer. She thought about Annie. Her hopes and fears tied up with the tiny life she had given birth to, and all the other people, not just in Penhally Bay but all over the world who would be facing the same uncertainties and fears as she was.
'I can wait my turn like everyone else,' Kate said. 'A day or two isn't going to make much difference.'
'Are you sure you don't want me to phone Ben? He'll know who you should see.'
'No,' Kate said heavily. 'I don't want to jump the queue. It's not fair to every other frightened woman out there. Besides, by the time my appointment comes through, Rob will be back.'
'There's only a week waiting time for urgent appointments,' Oliver said. 'And I'm going to grade yours as urgent.'
Kate smiled wanly. 'Okay,' she said. Just then there was a knock on the door and Nick stuck his head around it.
'Oh, Oliver. I'm sorry. I thought you had finished seeing patients.' Then he noticed Kate and he looked surprised. 'Kate! I didn't think you were in today. Is there something up with one of your patients?' His eyes narrowed. Something in her and Oliver's expression seemed to alert him that Kate's presence was unusual.
'I just had something I wanted to talk over with Oliver,' she said hastily. Well, it was true. But let think Nick it was about a patient.
'There's nothing wrong, is there?' he asked. He walked over to the desk and crouched down next to Kate. 'You would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you?' Kate felt her heart tighten at the obvious concern in his eyes. Whatever problems they might have had, were still having, she knew that somewhere deep down inside Nick cared about her, even if it was as just a friend. But that didn't mean she was ready to share her worries with him. He had made it clear often enough that he wasn't prepared to offer her more than the professional support of a colleague. And one thing Kate couldn't bear was for him to feel sorry for her.
She laughed, but the sound was hollow even to her own ears.
'What possibly could be wrong, Nick, that I couldn't cope with on my own?' She didn't mean the words to have such a bitter quality to them, but she couldn't help herself. The one thing she truly wanted from Nick, acceptance of the child they shared, he wasn't able to give her.
'If you're sure?' Nick said, straightening. He sounded less than convinced but Kate knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't probe. One thing you could say about him was that he respected her privacy. He turned back to Oliver, who was watching the exchange quietly. Kate wondered if he had picked up on the tension that seemed to be a permanent feature between her and Nick these days. 'I wondered if you fancied a round of golf this afternoon?' he asked. 'Dragan and Ben are up for it if you are.'
'Sure,' Oliver said. 'I think Chloe has plans for this afternoon, so I'm free.'
'How is Annie?' Nick asked. 'Has anyone spoken to her?'
'I saw her this morning,' Kate said. 'She's okay. Raphael is with her.'
'Raphael? Dr Castillo?' Nick said, looking puzzled.
Oliver and Kate exchanged a smile. Good grief, Kate thought, Nick could be so dense sometimes, completely failing to see what was right underneath his nose.
A WEEK after their baby had been born Annie and Raphael sat in the easy chairs the staff had provided and watched over their child. The lights had been turned low, although the nurses and doctors still tended their tiny charges with the same dedication and attentiveness that they did during the day.
Annie rested her eyes, thinking back to what Raphael had said. He had called her his heart and his soul. But surely these were just the words of a man in emotional turmoil to the woman who was locked there with him? She still couldn't believe that he meant them.
'Maybe she'll be a piano player,' he said suddenly into the silence. 'She has your long fingers.' He picked up Annie's hand in one of his. 'Such beautiful hands.' Annie looked down at her hands in surprise. She had never thought of her hands as being beautiful before, but perhaps he was right. Her fingers were long and shapely.
'Why did you come back?' she asked. 'You know, the night Angela was born after we...' She tailed off, blushing furiously, but she wanted to know. Everything had happened so fast it was only now that she had begun to wonder.
He turned towards her, his eyes glowing in the semi darkness. 'I came back because...because I realised something important. When this is over, I'm going to do everything to win you properly. Make you believe me when I tell you that I want to marry you. Because I love you.'
Annie started to say something but he stopped her words with his fingertip.
'I want us to start over. Do everything as it should have been. How it was meant to be.'
Annie felt something deep down inside her blossom at his words. Could she dare to believe that he meant what he was saying? And did he truly understand what he was saying?
'Don't. Please, Raphael. Don't say any more.' She flinched at the naked pain in his eyes, but forced herself to go on.
'I can't have any more children. You must know that. Angela was miraculous enough. If we marry, you will be signing yourself up to a lifetime of childlessness.' Her voice broke on the words. 'If...' she faltered, but forced herself to go on. 'God forbid, but if Angela doesn't pull through, there will be no more children.'
'I would be signing myself up for a lifetime with the woman I love,' Raphael said firmly. 'The woman without whom life has no meaning---a dark and empty place. Don't you know that when I am with you my life is full of light? I told you before and I will tell you again and keep on telling you until you believe me---you are all I need.'
'You would give up everything for me?'Annie whispered, hardly daring to believe he meant what he was saying.
'I would give my life for you if I had to.' He crouched by her side. 'I have been so foolish. Can you ever forgive me? How could I have ever believed even for the smallest second---' he held out two fingers millimetres apart '---that you were anything except the strong, loving, honest woman you are?'
'Because you believed it once before and she betrayed you,'Annie said, unable to bear the self-reproach in his eyes. 'I can understand.'
'I know I don't deserve you. I am full of mistakes...' Annie hid a smile. His English only ever suffered when his feelings ran high. 'But if you marry me, I will spend the rest of my life proving I am worthy of you. If you want to adopt a little brother or sister for our sweet daughter, I would be happy too.'
Annie still wasn't sure. He might mean it now, but later, in years to come, he might come to regret having married her, and that was one thing she would never allow. She would rather let him go---even if it broke her heart---than see him become resentful of her. But before she could formulate the words there was the sound of an alarm going off at Angela's cot. Within seconds the incubator was surrounded. Annie looked at Raphael, terrified.
Quickly the paediatrician attached Angela to a machine again and after a few agonising minutes the monitor stopped bleeping as Angela's breathing returned to normal.
After listening to Angela's chest, the paediatrician turned to Annie and Raphael.
'I think your daughter has patent ductus arteriosus, or PDA as we call it. As you both are probably aware, the blood circulating in the foetus doesn't go through the lungs but bypasses the lungs via an artery. Normally this artery closes itself soon after birth, but in pre-term babies such as yours, it sometimes fails to close.'
Raphael nodded. 'I've seen it before.'
'We've been giving her drugs for a day or two to try and close it that way, but that doesn't seem to have worked...'
'So you'll need to do it surgically,' Raphael finished for him.
'But she's so small,' Annie interjected.
Raphael turned to Annie and took both of her hands in his. He looked at her steadily, his brown eyes calm.
'It's her best chance,' he said. 'The surgeons are used to operating on babies of Angela's size. We have to trust them to do what's best for her.'
Annie looked at her daughter. Lying in her cot, all alone attached to tubes and wires. Her child was totally dependent on her parents making the right decision. Annie felt so helpless. What if they made the wrong one? 'But what if...?' Annie couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
'Look at me, Annie,' Raphael demanded. Annie dragged her eyes away from her baby. Raphael's eyes burned with his need to convince her. 'Only you have the right to make the decision. I can't. But I love her, too. You have to trust me about this. Please.'
There was no doubting his pain. There was no doubting his love for their daughter. And she did trust him. They were together in this and would always be. Annie realised that never again would she be alone. She would always have Raphael to share impossible decisions with.
'Okay,' she whispered, 'I'll sign the consents.'
Annie and Raphael passed what seemed like hours while their daughter was in surgery, in almost complete silence. Annie laid her head on Raphael's lap and he gently stroked her hair. They waited in the relatives' room just along the corridor from theatre. Every now and again Raphael would ask Annie if he could get her anything. Water? Coffee? But she always shook her head. She knew she couldn't possibly swallow anything until she knew Angela was out of surgery. Eventually they heard footsteps coming down the corridor. Annie sat up, her heart in her throat, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived.
Raphael got to his feet and pulled Annie up and into his embrace. 'Whatever it is, be strong, my love. I am with you.'
The surgeon stepped into the family waiting room, a broad grin lighting up his face. It was the news they had both been desperately longing for. The paediatric surgeon explained that Angela had come through the surgery well and he expected her to make a full recovery. She was currently in Intensive Care but they could see her if they wanted. If they wanted!
Dr Nick Tremayne sat deep in thought. Something was up with Kate. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was worrying her, he would bet his life on it. He crossed over to his consulting-room window and looked out. The perfect weather had turned again. The rain was falling in thick slabs, perfectly matching his gloomy mood. He didn't know why, but seeing Kate with her new partner made him feel uncomfortable. Not that it was any of his business. He should be glad she had found someone who could offer her a life free of complications. But, damn it, he hated seeing the way Jem responded to Rob. The way the growing boy seemed to look up to him, almost as if he had accepted that Rob was the father he had never known. And why should that bother him? Shouldn't he be glad that his son had a good man as a role model in his life? Rob was a decent man. Nick knew that. And it wasn't as if he could offer the child anything, no matter how much Kate had tried to convince him. Perhaps if he'd known that Jem was his son much much earlier. Perhaps then he could have found a way to be a father to him. But it was too late now. Every time he looked at the child he remembered that he had been unfaithful to his beloved wife, Annabel. What kind of man was he?
He sighed with exasperation. How had he managed to make such a mess of it all? He couldn't see a way to make things right.
A soft tap on the door and then Kate popped her head around. She was still beautiful, he thought. The years had been kind to her. Why couldn't he let her go and make a proper life for herself? Why did the thought of her being with someone else drive him crazy? It wasn't as if he had anything to offer her.
'Just to let you know that Chloe is doing the antenatal clinic on her own this afternoon and I'm taking the afternoon off. So she might need some help from you.'
Nick was surprised. It was unlike Kate to take time off, especially when she knew it would leave her colleagues short-handed.
'Is everything all right, Kate? There's nothing up with Jem, is there?'
'No, Jem's fine. He's at school. It's just I have something I need to do this afternoon.'
'Can't it wait?'
He could see the exasperation in Kate's eyes.
'It's not as if I ever ask for time off, Nick,' she said frostily.
Of course, she was right. If anything, she had put the patients' needs before her own for years. He knew that. It was just that he sensed she was keeping something from him. And he wanted to know what it was. But one look at the determined set of her mouth told him it would be useless to pry. He had given up all rights to Kate's personal life and they both knew it.
'Of course,' he said. 'Forgive me.' He thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but just as quickly it was gone. It seemed that he was forever destined to disappoint this woman.
'I'll see you tomorrow, then,' she said before closing the door behind her.
Kate perched on her chair, trying not to show how nervous she was. In the seat next to her, Rob looked as ill at ease as Kate felt. He had insisted on coming with her to St Piran's. At first Kate had tried to dissuade him, she was so used to doing everything on her own, but then relented. Rob cared about her. Why face something so difficult on her own when he so clearly wanted to be there to support her? He had waited outside while Dr Bower had performed a fine needle biopsy and then waited some more while Kate had a mammogram. The hour they had waited to be called into see the surgeon for the results was the one of the longest in Kate's life.
The surgeon, Dr Bower, an older woman Kate had met before through work, seemed to take her time looking through Kate's notes before removing her glasses and placing them carefully on the table. Kate was dimly aware of Rob reaching across and taking her hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and she was thankful she had let him come with her.
'I'm sorry, Kate,' Dr Bower was saying, 'but the tests have come back positive. The lump is cancerous. The good news is that the mammogram suggests that we have caught it at a very early stage. I'm fairly confident that we can get away with removing the lump without having to resort to a mastectomy, but I won't be sure until we have you on the table. If there is any sign that the cancer has invaded the lymph nodes then we might be facing a different scenario. In that case, a mastectomy may still be an option, followed by chemotherapy and radiotherapy. As I said, I don't think that's what we are facing here, but I think it's best that you know the worst possible outcome. One way or another, I suggest we get you in for the procedure as soon as possible.'
Kate felt her world tip and slide. Of course she had known that it could be cancer, but she hadn't allowed herself to believe it. The pressure of Rob's hand on hers grew stronger but she was barely aware of it. She had cancer. She could die. Her son could be left motherless, and---a sick feeling washed over her---fatherless. How could life be so unfair?
'Are you sure?' she managed through a mouth that felt as if it was stuffed with pebbles, it was so dry. 'I mean---I'm sorry, of course you're sure. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't.'
'I know it's a shock,' Dr Bower said sympathetically. 'But as I said before, it's good news that we caught it so early. You'll want some time to take it all in, but I really want to schedule you in for theatre, possibly the week after next.' She consulted her diary. 'I have a slot in my diary for a week on Monday. Would that suit you?'
Kate could only manage a nod. Her mouth was still too dry to speak. What was she going to tell Jem?
Kate managed to hold it together until she and Rob were back in his car. But when Rob silently put his arms around her and held her close, the tears came. Rob let her cry while he stroked her hair and murmured soothing words of comfort. He waited until her sobs subsided.
Kate removed herself from his arms, miserably aware of her tearstained cheeks and swollen eyes. She blew furiously on the handkerchief Rob held out for her.
'I'm sorry, Rob, to land you in all this. I don't think it's what you expected when you took up with me.'
'I took up with you, as you put it---' Rob smiled '---because you are the most wonderful woman I have ever met. I would rather be with you than anywhere else in the world. But I want you to listen to me.' He swivelled around in his seat and took Kate's hands in his. She felt the warmth of his touch ease away some of the chill that had been seeping through her body since Dr Bower had given her the diagnosis.
'Dr Bower said that they caught it very early and survival rates from breast cancer have improved enormously over the last few years. That is what you need to remember.'
Kate looked at his dear, kind face. He always made her feel so protected and loved. Why couldn't she feel about him the way he so obviously felt about her?
'I know,' she said. 'But all I can think about is Jem. There is a chance when they do the biopsy at the time of surgery that they'll find it's more advanced. What will happen to him if...?' She took an uneven breath. 'If the worse comes to the worst? I have to think about that. I'm all he has...I can't imagine what it would do to him to be left alone. He's still so young.' Her voice broke and she couldn't help the tears from falling once more.
Rob pulled her back into his arms. 'It's all right. You'll see. Everything will work out fine.'
But Kate knew it wasn't all right. Bad things happened. And even Rob couldn't promise her that everything would be all right. No matter how much she wanted to believe him.
In the following days, as their daughter got gradually stronger, Annie let herself think about what Raphael had said. In the days after Angela's surgery they hadn't spoken much. When Raphael wasn't with them he was back at work, putting in a full day before returning to the ward to sit with them both.
Annie wondered if, now that their child was out of danger, he regretted his words the night of Angela's surgery. But she wouldn't be the one to speak of it. If he had changed his mind, or in the cold light of day realised he didn't love her, she would accept that. In time the pain would ease and whatever happened she would always have her beloved daughter. It would be a few weeks yet before they would be able to take Angela home, but the nursery, with its sunshine-yellow walls and crib stuffed with soft toys, was ready and waiting for her.
Kate had been to see Annie often, as had the other members of Penhally Bay Surgery, and Annie had been overwhelmed by their love and support.
She leaned back in her chair as her child suckled. It had been a great joy to find that it was still possible and Annie revelled in the feel of her baby's skin close against hers.
Annie looked up to find Raphael standing looking down, his face filled with wonder. Her heart started racing. She knew without a shadow of doubt that she would never love anyone the way she loved him. When she had met him she had felt as if she had found the other half of her soul. And she still felt that way. She couldn't imagine a life without him. Not seeing him. Perhaps one day hearing that he had met someone else? But she also knew that she loved him too much to wish anything for him except happiness. Even if that life didn't include her. She loved him so much that she knew she could let him go. Even if it broke her heart.
'You look beautiful,' he said. 'How can I ever thank you for giving me the most precious gift in the world?'
He knelt by her side and touched her face with a gentle finger, before dropping his head and kissing the top of their child's head.
Annie felt her throat tighten. She wanted to imprint everything about him into her heart. Every facial feature, every expression, so in the months or years to come she would have her memories even if she didn't have him.
She replaced Angela in the incubator. She was only allowed to hold her for short periods, but she savoured every opportunity.
Raphael remained kneeling and reached a hand up and pulled her back down into the chair. Annie was uncomfortably aware of curious heads turning in their direction as the nurses stopped what they were doing to watch.
'I have something I want to ask you,' he said hoarsely. 'I was going to wait until we brought our baby home for good. But I can't sleep for not knowing what your answer would be.'
Annie studied him. He looked exhausted. The last few days of working while spending every moment with their child had taken their toll. There were dark shadows under his eyes and lines around his eyes that Annie hadn't seen before.
'I must know,' he said his voice tense. 'Do you think you could ever love me?'
Annie looked at him in wonder. Didn't he know? Hadn't he guessed how she felt? Without waiting for a reply, Raphael continued. 'From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. But I tried to tell myself it was impossible to fall in love with a woman I had only known so briefly. I couldn't let myself believe it. I wanted to contact you. I thought about it often, but I didn't. I thought it was better to keep my image of you alive and not risk having it smashed. And I still hoped there was a chance that I would win the court case for access to Sebastian on appeal. So I didn't listen to my heart. I let you go.'
Annie opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her words with his finger. 'Please. I have to say this. Whatever happens, I have to tell you.'
Annie waited for him to continue, acutely aware of the tiny shivers of delight and hope darting through her.
'Then when you told me you were pregnant, I thought that it was fate, but I couldn't let myself hope. I needed to know that it was my child and if it was, I needed to know that I couldn't lose her. The thought of losing another child drove me crazy. But when I saw you again, as I got to know you, I realised that I hadn't made a mistake about you. You were everything I ever thought you were. Everything I had ever hoped to find in a woman. Kind, caring, beautiful and loyal.' He looked a bit sheepish for a moment as he realised that the staff as well as most of the patients were riveted to every word he was saying. Annie felt a smile spread over her face.
'I love you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love a woman. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, making you smile. I want us, you me and Angela, to be a family. It doesn't matter where. Here or Spain. All that matters is that I am with you.'
'Can I speak now?'Annie asked when he came to a halt. Her heart was singing. She couldn't wait to put him out of his misery.
'I love you too, Raphael Castillo. I have loved you since the moment I saw you. And there is nothing that would make me happier than to marry you.' She could see the triumph in his eyes as he took in her words. She let him pull her to her feet, dimly aware of the sound of clapping and cheering. But as she tilted her face to his she knew that finally she had everything she had ever dreamed of.
ANNIE walked down the aisle her hand on her father's arm. The church where she had first met Raphael had seemed to them both to be the logical place for their wedding. She passed Raphael's mother, who was holding Angela in her arms. Little Maria was pressed close to the older woman's side. From the moment she and Raphael had returned to Spain with their daughter, Maria had become Angela's self-appointed guardian. She and Raphael had decided to look into the possibility of adopting Maria. Although it was early days yet, the young girl's father had raised no objections and it looked as if in time they would have two daughters. And maybe in a couple of years they would investigate the possibility of adopting another child. But all that was in the future, Annie thought as Raphael turned to watch her approach. His eyes darkened as he looked at her and Annie blushed, knowing that he was thinking of their wedding night.
Since he had proposed they had taken it slowly, getting to know the little things about each other and falling deeper in love every day. They hadn't made love, even though it had almost driven them both crazy. They had agreed to wait until they were married and Annie felt a heat low in her abdomen as she thought about the night to come. They had also agreed that they would live in Spain for the time being. It made sense. Annie had no plans to go back to work until Angela was a little older and the last thing little Maria needed was more disruption. They would go back to the UK often on holiday to see her parents and friends and, of course, they would come to Spain to see them too. She heard a little cry as Angela stirred from her nap. Annie caught Raphael's eye as she stood beside him and prepared to make the vows that would bind them together for the rest of their lives. In his eyes she found just what she was looking for. Right now she had everything she had ever wanted. Right here in this church.
Kate Hardy lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she's not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children's schools. She also loves cooking---spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They're also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate---something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She's been writing Medical™ Romances for nearly five years now, and also writes for Modern Heat™. She says it's the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she's researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it's the perfect job!
Kate's always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com
Recent titles by the same author:
Medical™ Romance
THE CHILDREN'S DOCTOR'S SPECIAL PROPOSAL (The London Victoria duet)
THE GREEK DOCTOR'S NEW-YEAR BABY (The London Victoria duet)
THE SPANISH DOCTOR'S LOVE-CHILD
THE DOCTOR'S ROYAL LOVE-CHILD (Brides of Penhally Bay)
Modern Heat ™
TEMPORARY BOSS, PERMANENT MISTRESS
PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION (To Tame a Playboy duet)
SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH (To Tame a Playboy duet)
'ISN'T that Sophia over there?' The blonde indicated the far side of the room with her champagne glass.
James knew he ought to change the subject or just walk away, but he couldn't help himself. He looked.
And there she was. Sophia Alexander, society's favourite party girl. Draped over yet another good-looking man, laughing as if she didn't have a care in the world.
Which, to be fair, she probably didn't.
'Mmm,' James replied, trying to sound noncommittal.
'She's not with that Italian model any more, then.'
The one she'd been photographed with on his father's yacht, a mere six months after their wedding. The pictures of his topless wife and her lover had been splashed across newspapers around the globe.
Though that was old news. Very old news. After the Italian, Sophia had had an affair with a Spanish actor: lover number two on his divorce papers. And then a Brazilian footballer, who'd been squiring her around in the week before what should've been her first wedding anniversary with James.
'I hear he's a French chef,' the blonde added.
Indeed. No doubt the guy would be cooking Sophia a 'happy divorce' meal tonight. Among other things.
Ha. And to think James had come out tonight to celebrate his freedom---the sheer relief that his marriage was legally over. He should've guessed that his ex-wife would be partying even harder. Showing him in the best way she knew that she didn't give a damn, and she was going to enjoy every penny of her extremely generous settlement.
'What do you think it'll be next? A Greek restaurateur?' the blonde asked.
If this was the woman's way of trying to find out if he really was over his ex-wife, she could've found a more tactful way to ask. James was about to say something extremely cutting---and then he saw something in the woman's eyes. Something that told him she wasn't merely a guest, or just supremely tactless. The blonde was a journalist, after a story, and she knew very well what today was for him.
Decree absolute day.
The day he'd hoped that Sophia would change her surname back to Carvell-Jones, and the press would stop tormenting him.
How naive he'd been.
'I really have no idea. I don't keep tabs on my ex-wife,' James drawled, with emphasis on the ex. 'Excuse me. There's someone I need to see by the bar.'
It was a lie, and they both knew it. But she let him go without further question, and he made his escape from the party as soon as he could.
No doubt the tabloids would all be full of the story tomorrow. How poor, heartbroken surgeon James Alexander had been forced to watch his ex-wife celebrating with yet another of her lovers on the day their divorce was finalised. And then there would be speculation about who would mend the heart surgeon's heart.
You couldn't get much further from the truth. James was hardly poor, despite the settlement, and he was very far from heartbroken. He'd stopped caring about Sophia a long time ago. It was just a pity that he'd been too smitten with her to see her for what she was before he'd married her: a spoiled socialite who didn't think any further ahead than the next party.
KATE HARDY
'What was I supposed to do, James? You never paid me any attention. You practically pushed me into his arms.' The words echoed in his head: words she'd flung at him when he'd confronted her about the yacht episode and demanded to know what the hell she was playing at.
But she'd married a surgeon, not a socialite. James had never made a secret of the fact that his career was important to him. Cardiothoracic surgery was the most competitive specialty going, and he'd excelled at it---taking all his exams early and coming top in every single one. He loved what he did. He loved making a difference, giving someone their future back. Surely Sophia had been able to understand that he couldn't leave a patient halfway through an operation just because she didn't want to be late for a party? For pity's sake, he wouldn't leave the hospital until his patient was out of the recovery room and had been settled for at least an hour. He was a surgeon, and he believed in living up to the responsibilities that went with it.
Or maybe she'd thought that he would change, for her. That he'd switch specialties, go into plastics or something similar, and have a high-profile clinic on Harley Street. A job where he'd work nine to five at most, where all his surgical cases were elective rather than emergency, where he'd earn obscene amounts of money from pandering to the vanity of celebrities.
Just as he'd been naive enough to think that Sophia would understand the demands of his job as a children's heart surgeon and make allowances for them, instead of flouncing off in pique, straight into the arms of the first gorgeous hunk who smiled at her.
Their marriage had crashed as spectacularly and publicly as it had begun. And the only reason James hadn't served Sophia with divorce papers the week she'd been cavorting with her Italian and the paparazzi had taken snap after snap after snap had been because the law said you couldn't get a divorce until you'd been married for a year. He'd had to wait for six excruciating months before he could apply for a divorce. Six months where he'd been forced to endure his wife flaunting a string of lovers in the gossip magazines.
At least Sophia hadn't contested his grounds. Then again, with the amount of evidence in the press, she could hardly have denied adultery.
James let the front door click to behind him and deadlocked it. Right at that moment, he was sick of London. Sick of parties. Sick of everything---even the glittery charity fundraisers he'd once loved doing for his hospital. He could really do with some time away. Sure, he could call his father and go to one of the family's private resorts, but he knew he'd still have to face the same old thing. Parties like tonight's, full of debs and celebs.
What he really wanted was to chill out, somewhere quiet and peaceful. Somewhere where there weren't any supermodels or society party girls who did nothing but shop and look for rich husbands they were going to cheat on within months of their flamboyant and expensive weddings.
Not that such a place existed.
Or did it?
He'd trained with Jack Tremayne in London. Jack had known how to party with the best of them; but then he'd moved back to Cornwall, to where he'd grown up. James hadn't gone to Jack's wedding in Penhally, simply because he hadn't been able to face the happy couple while his own marriage had been collapsing around his ears. He'd sent an expensive present and a feeble excuse.
Though he'd also wondered why on earth Jack had been mad enough to bury himself in such a backwater. Why go back to a little seaside town when he could've had so many more opportunities in London?
But maybe Jack had the right idea.
Maybe in Cornwall, miles away from London, James could find some peace.
He picked up the phone and dialled Jack's number. It rang and rang, and he was just about to give up when a sleepy voice answered. 'Hello?'
James glanced at his watch. For pity's sake, it was a Saturday night and it wasn't even midnight. The Jack Tremayne he knew would barely have started partying at this time of the evening. 'Jack? It's James. Sorry, did I wake you?'
'Don't worry. Just napping when Helena sleeps,' Jack mumbled.
Of course. The new baby. It had slipped his mind. 'Sorry, mate,' he said, guilt flooding through him.
'Everything all right?' Jack asked.
'Yes.' No. 'Look, I was wondering...You said a few months back, if I wanted to come and spend a few days...'
'Uh...'
'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked,' James said immediately. How selfish and thoughtless could he get? 'Not when you have a new baby.'
'No, no, of course you can come and stay. Alison won't mind.'
James rather thought she might. And he didn't blame her. 'Look, don't worry, I'll stay in a hotel or something. But it'd be nice to catch up. Have a beer together.'
'Yeah, sure.' Jack seemed to be waking up now. 'Are you all right, James? You sound a bit flat.'
'Just had enough of London.' He wasn't going to mention the divorce. It wasn't fair to dump that on a sleep-deprived new father. Even though Jack was about the only person he knew who'd understand what it was like to have the press on your back---Jack had had his fair share of flak from the tabloids in the past. 'Hey, I'll let you get back to sleep. I'll call you at a more sociable hour tomorrow.'
Jack laughed. 'You mean when you crawl out of bed in the middle of the afternoon.'
James forced himself to laugh back. 'Something like that.'
'If you're serious about wanting to get out of London, I might be able to help. There was a job on the bulletin board at work last week that's right up your street. Registrar on the cardiac surgery team. Why don't you come down and take a look?'
It would be a sideways move. But the chances were, in a smaller place, he'd get more responsibility. At twenty-nine, James knew he needed more experience before he took the next step up, and this could be a really good opportunity. 'I might just do that.'
'St Piran's is a good place to work,' Jack said. 'I'm really happy here.'
Yeah. Because Jack had met the love of his life.
As if Jack had picked up on James's thoughts, he continued, 'And you never know, you might find someone here who'll be able to make you forget Sophia.'
James gave a mirthless laugh. 'You must be joking. I'm not getting involved with anyone, ever again. Been there, done that.' And the whole lot had been documented in the press. In every single squalid, sordid detail. He didn't believe in love any more. 'No, from now on, it's no strings and no involvement.'
To his relief, Jack didn't argue. 'Give me a ring tomorrow, when I've had a chance to talk to Alison.'
'Yeah, sure.'
'And think about the job. It might be just what you need.'
Maybe, James thought as he replaced the receiver, just maybe, his friend had a point.
'Did you hear a single word I just said?' Nick asked his niece, looking pained.
'I...No,' Charlotte admitted. 'Sorry, Nick. I didn't mean to be rude.'
'Just that your head's full of plans for the new centre.'
Yes, she thought. And the new cardiac surgeon at St Piran's, James Alexander. Why on earth the head of surgery had given the job to a man who spent more time at parties than with his patients, she'd never know. The son of a supermodel and an international businessman, James was prime fodder for the gossip pages---and she'd seen his face splashed across enough magazines brought in by visitors to the ward. Usually posed on a red carpet, in full evening dress with a smile so perfect that it had to be the result of expensive cosmetic dental work, and some gorgeous supermodel with legs up to her armpits draped over his arm.
A man like that, used to partying with A-listers in exclusive clubs and hotels, would be bored stiff around here within a matter of hours. He wouldn't see the beauty of this quiet corner of Cornwall---just that it was a backwater.
And then he'd be off again in search of the bright lights, dropping his responsibilities without a second thought and leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces. Marvellous.
'Charlotte?'
'Sorry.' She gave her uncle a rueful smile. 'I'm wool-gath-ering again.'
'It's not just the centre, is it?'
For a moment, she thought about fibbing. But Nick Tremayne had been good to her. He'd offered her a bolthole when she'd needed it most, two years ago, when she'd left Liverpool after the court case. And, considering that right now she was sitting in her uncle's kitchen and drinking his coffee, the least she could do was be honest. 'I'm fretting because of the new guy at work,' she admitted.
'You're worried about him?' He reached over and squeezed her hand.
She smiled at her uncle, knowing exactly what he'd been too tactful to say aloud. 'Not in that way, Nick.' She was well past the days when she'd been too nervous to stay in a room with anyone male. 'No, I just think he's going to be a waste of space. A party boy. I wish they'd chosen someone who would at least be dedicated to the job and work with the team, instead of grabbing all the glory for his personal headlines.'
Nick raised an eyebrow. 'I'm the last person to make a comment there, considering how I behaved towards Jack.'
'He's forgiven you. And you're close now. That's all that matters.'
'Maybe,' Nick suggested, 'this guy won't be quite as bad as you think.'
She scoffed. 'Even allowing for press exaggeration, I don't think James Alexander's going to fit in.' Catching her uncle's expression, she frowned. 'What?'
'Did you say James Alexander?' Nick queried.
'Yes. Do you know him?'
'He's a friend of Jack's. Or, at least, he was, in London.'
'Back in Jack's wild days?' At Nick's nod, she said, 'Then I rest my case.'
'People change, Charlotte. Give the man a chance.'
'Hmm.' She switched the subject, not wanting to be drawn. In her experience, men didn't usually change. Well, Nick had, a bit---he'd learned to get along with his children and pull together as a family after his wife's death, but it had taken a lot of effort on the part of Jack, Lucy and Edward. Jack had settled down, too, thanks to Alison, but in Charlotte's view Nick and Jack were the exceptions that proved the rule. 'It's two weeks until the rape crisis centre opens. My friend Maggie's almost finished setting up the website.'
'That's good.' Nick smiled at her. 'Annabel would've been so proud of you, you know. She always said you were sensible and clever and kind.'
'So was she.'Charlotte had adored her aunt. She still missed Annabel's kindness and her common sense.
'You remind me of her,' Nick said softly. 'Not just because of the way you look. You've got the same inner strength she had. And I'm as proud of you as she would've been. It takes a lot of guts to do something like this when...' His voice faded.
'When I've been through it myself?' Charlotte wrapped her arms round herself. 'That's why I'm doing it, Nick. Because I've been there. Yes, it hurts. It brings back things I'd rather not remember. But because of...' Her mouth filled with bile and she swallowed it back. 'Look, it's just easier talking to someone who's been there and doesn't make you spell every single thing out. If I shrink away from this, I'm letting Michael win.' She lifted her chin. 'And that's not going to happen, Nick. I'm not letting him win. I'm going to help other people get over it, just as people helped me get over what happened to me.'
'But you're still not completely over it, are you?' Nick asked. 'You haven't dated since it happened. Three years is a long time, love.'
'And your way's better, is it?' Charlotte parried. 'Dating as many people as possible, so you don't have time to think?'
Colour shot into his face. 'There's no need to be rude.'
She winced at the rebuke. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Not to you, of all people. Without you, I wouldn't have a place for the centre.' Nick, as the senior partner at the surgery in Penhally, had generously agreed to let her use a room in the surgery every Wednesday for the rape crisis centre. And in return she'd promised to run some sessions in the surgery at Penhally about heart health, including some especially for postmenopausal women at Gemma's well-woman clinic.
'You would've found somewhere you could use.'
'But Penhally's perfect. There's something about the place---something...It's going to sound daft, but something healing.'
He smiled wryly. 'You're not daft. And I suppose you have a point---I do date a lot. Too much, maybe. But I've never forgotten your aunt.' He sighed deeply. 'She's going to haunt me for the rest of my life.'
She reached over to squeeze his hand. 'Nick, Annabel wouldn't have wanted you to be miserable. What happened to her was terrible, but it wasn't anyone's fault. It was just one of those stupid, senseless things that make the world a darker place. But she wouldn't have wanted you to be like this---and, yes, before you start arguing, I can say that because I knew her. She thinks---thought,' she corrected herself swiftly, 'in the same way my mum does. She would've wanted you to find someone who'd love you as much as she did. You have to learn to let go of the past and move on.' She smiled wryly. 'Listen to me---talk about pots and kettles.' She hadn't exactly moved on after Michael, had she? 'But doctors aren't very good at taking their own advice, are they?'
'No,' Nick admitted. 'We aren't.'
'Maybe,' Charlotte said, 'we both need to make more of an effort.'
'Maybe.' He lifted his mug of coffee. 'Here's to you, the new centre---and a decent working relationship with James Alexander.'
'And here's to you, the new centre, and finding someone who can make you as happy as Annabel did,' Charlotte responded, lifting her own mug.
'AREN'T you supposed to be at lunch?' Steffie, the senior sister on the cardiothoracic ward, leaned against the door of Charlotte's office with her arms folded, tapping her foot.
Charlotte looked up from her notes and flapped a hand at the packet of sandwiches in front of her. 'Look. Food. I am at lunch.'
'You're working,' Steffie corrected. 'You're not taking a proper break.'
'It's temporary. Just until the centre's up and running properly. This next couple of weeks I've got a ton of loose ends to tie up, and it's easiest to sort things out in my lunch break rather than the evenings, in case I need to get hold of someone during office hours.'
'Hmm. As long as it is temporary. I worry about you,'Steffie said.
'Hey, no need to worry about me. I'm absolutely fine.' Charlotte gave her friend a broad smile. 'And you know me. I like being busy.'
'Hmm.'Steffie didn't sound convinced. 'Well, you're going to be even busier tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow?'
Steffie rolled her eyes. 'Don't tell me you've forgotten that he's starting? James Alexander. The new heart surgeon.'
Charlotte shrugged. 'I expect he'll be round to see us at some point, then.'
'I know you missed him when he came round after his interview, but you must have seen his picture in the papers, Charlotte. He's the most gorgeous man ever to have set foot in this hospital. How on earth can you stay so cool about him when every other female in the place is getting palpitations?'
'Easy,' Charlotte said dryly. 'I go for dark chocolate and a good book instead of a mug of coffee and the gossip rags.'
Steffie laughed. 'You're impossible. But I bet our Mr Alexander will melt even you.'
'This is where I should bet you a small fortune and clean up,'Charlotte retorted with a smile, 'except it'd be too unfair---like taking sweeties from a toddler. He's not going to melt me, because he's not my type.'
'So what is your type, Charlotte?' Steffie asked.
Nobody. Because she didn't date. Charlotte couldn't resist teasing her friend. 'I'll let you into a secret,' she said, beckoning.
Steffie came over to Charlotte's desk and stooped, ready to listen.
'I can't date because I'm already married,' Charlotte whispered.
Steffie's eyes grew wider. 'You're kidding!'
'Cross my heart. I'm absolutely serious,' Charlotte said.
'But---you've been working here for nearly two years and you've never talked about your husband. None of us have even met him.'
'Oh, but you have.' Charlotte smiled broadly. 'You see, Steffie, I'm married to my job.'
Steffie groaned and cuffed her playfully. 'Like I said. You're impossible!'
'No. I'm just more interested in my job than in a man with an ego the size of Mars.'
Steffie blinked. 'Have you actually met him, then? Or heard something on the grapevine from someone you trained with?'
'Neither. But it stands to reason. James Alexander is rich, spoiled, and spends his entire life squiring celebs to exclusive parties.' Charlotte ticked them off on her fingers. 'Of course his ego's going to be the size of Mars.'
'Four thousand, two hundred and twenty miles in diameter. A little over half the diameter of Earth but, I grant you, still pretty big in terms of ego,' a voice drawled from the doorway.
'Oh, lord!' Steffie said, colour flooding her face as she looked at the man standing in the doorway, who'd obviously overheard quite a bit of their conversation.
'Hello. I'm James Alexander,' he said---as if either of them needed telling.
'Stephanie Jones, senior sister on the cardiac ward---everyone calls me Steffie.' Steffie shook his proffered hand. 'Um, nice to meet you.'
'And you.' James smiled warmly at her, then turned to Charlotte and raised an eyebrow, as if enquiring who she was.
For a moment, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.
Steffie was right about one thing. James Alexander was the most gorgeous man ever to have set foot in St Piran's. Tall, with dark hair and deep brown eyes, he could've walked straight out of the pages of an upmarket magazine. His clothes were expensively cut, his shoes were highly polished and she'd just bet they were handmade, and as for his hair...
James Alexander was definitely a man who believed in being groomed. There wasn't a single hair out of place. He was perfectly clean-shaven. And Charlotte was horrified to find the pads of her fingers tingling, as if tempting her to trail them over his face and discover for herself just how soft his skin was.
Worse still, James was looking at her with a quizzical air. Waiting for her to introduce herself. Oh, great. He'd caught her ogling him. And considering that she never, ever ogled men...She could do with the earth opening up and swallowing her---preferably five minutes ago.
'Charlotte Walker, cardiology registrar,' she said, rather more brusquely than she'd intended, and winced inwardly at the sound of her voice.
What was it about this man that had her making such a fool of herself?
She knew better than this.
Keep it cool, calm and professional, she reminded herself silently.
And then had to remind herself of that again when he shook her hand and her pulse rate speeded up a notch.
She had to be sickening for something. No way did she react this way towards men she didn't know---or even to men she did know. She kept things tidy and professional, with a smile on her face and plenty of distance. Her knees didn't normally go weak when a good-looking man smiled at her. So what was going on here? 'I believe we were expecting you at some point tomorrow,' she said, to cover her confusion.
He shrugged. 'I was in the area. I thought I'd drop in and introduce myself---then I can hit the ground running instead of wasting a day in introductions.'
Now, that she hadn't expected. And it made her feel just the tiniest bit guilty about what she'd said. Maybe she had been unfair to him. She had no idea how much he'd overheard of her conversation with Steffie, but she knew what she needed to do. The decent thing.
'I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have made assumptions about you.'
'I'm used to it. It still amazes me how people believe every single word they read in the press, but...' he shrugged '...I guess not everyone likes to form their own opinion.'
Ouch. Though she knew she deserved the rebuke. 'I'm impressed that you actually knew the size of Mars.'
He spread his hands. 'Hang around with stars, you get to learn a bit about planets, too.'
'Touché.'Steffie laughed. 'Charlotte, I do believe you've met your match. Charlotte's our resident brainbox,' she explained for James's benefit. 'She's the captain of our inter-departmen-tal quiz team, and we haven't lost once since Charlotte's been on the team.'
'That sounds like a challenge,' James said, his brown eyes lighting up.
'Absolutely not,' Charlotte cut in crisply, hating the idea of anyone seeing her as a challenge. Been there, done that, never going to repeat it. 'The whole point of the quiz night is to raise money for charity. It's not about showing off.'
'With my ego the size of Mars, that is.'
Clearly that had hit home and he wasn't going to let her forget it any time soon. She lifted a shoulder. 'Think yourself lucky I only said Mars, not Jupiter.'
'Ouch.' He smiled at her. 'Buy me a coffee, Charlotte, and I'll forgive you.'
Was he coming on to her?
Her shock must have shown on her face because he explained, 'It's lunchtime and, as I'm the new boy and I'm going to be working pretty closely with your department, I'd really appreciate someone showing me around.'
'What about Theatre?' Surely someone in the surgical department should be the one to show the new surgeon around?
'I've already been there,' James said. 'Actually, I was a bit naughty and got an old friend to show me around. Jack Tremayne. He introduced me to the anaesthetists and the theatre staff. And he said that I should come and find you, as you'd show me around here and take me to the intensive care unit and the children's ward.'
'Did he, now?' Her cousin had better not be matchmaking. Jack might be deliriously happy with his new wife and a ready-made family and their newborn daughter, but it didn't mean that everyone wanted to get married and have babies. Charlotte certainly didn't want to get married. Ever.
James spread his hands. 'Hey. Don't shoot the messenger. If you have a problem with your cousin...'
'No. But I was---'
'In the middle of your own lunch break,' Steffie cut in. 'And working through that, too. So this is a double-win situation---it means you're not working too hard, and James gets to see the hospital properly. Show the poor man around, Charlotte.'
It took an effort to get herself back into professional mode, but Charlotte managed it. 'I assume you've already met the consultants?'
'At my interview, yes.'
'Good.'She took him on a whistle-stop tour of the cardiothoracic ward, the intensive care unit and finally the children's ward, introducing him to all the staff. He was as polite and smiley as she was, she noticed; clearly this was his professional face. One she could definitely work with. She liked the way he treated the nurses and auxiliary staff as his equals, rather than looking down on them. Acknowledging that he might be the surgeon who'd do the operation, but they were the staff who would look after the patient outside Theatre and would spot problems before they grew into emergencies.
As for this odd feeling every time she had when she looked into his eyes---well, that would go when she got used to him. It was just because he was a new face at the hospital, she told herself. The fact that she hadn't reacted this way to any other member of staff was beside the point.
'Right. Café. How do you take your coffee?'
'I was joking,' James said hastily. 'I've stolen your lunch break, so I'll buy the coffees.'
'No, it's fine.' She gave him her best professional smile. 'The deal was showing you around the hospital and buying you coffee.'
'Then thank you. I accept, with pleasure. Black, no sugar, please.' He paused as they queued up. 'Shall I find us a table?'
'Sure. Did you want anything to eat?'
'No, I'm fine, thanks.'
But when Charlotte joined him at the table, James realised with surprise that she was only carrying one cup of coffee, not two.
'Sorry, I really do have to get back to the ward,' she said, with a pointed glance at her watch. 'I have a clinic starting in ten minutes, and there are some notes I need to check first.'
'Sure,' James said. 'I understand.' Even though he had the distinct feeling that she was using her job as an excuse not to stay and have a coffee with him. Because she was embarrassed about her assumptions maybe? But he was used to people thinking he was a playboy until they got to know him and realised that he was absolutely serious about his job, and it didn't bother him any more. He hoped he'd made it clear that he wasn't going to hold it against her. 'Thanks for showing me around---and for the coffee.'
'Pleasure.' She gave him another smile. A professional one---that didn't quite reach her eyes, unlike the one she'd given her colleagues on their tour.
Was Charlotte Walker nervous with people she didn't know, he wondered, or was it just with him?
'Well, enjoy your first day tomorrow,' she said.
'Thanks. And no doubt I'll see you at some point.'
'If any of my patients are on your list.'She gave a half-shrug. 'See you.'
James watched her walk out of the canteen without a backward glance. Well, she'd made it very clear she saw him only as a colleague. And, although she'd been utterly professional in the way she'd shown him round, introducing him to every single one of the staff, she'd been reserved with him.
What made her so wary of him? Was she really narrowminded enough to believe the rubbish she'd read in the press? And yet the way her colleagues had greeted her...They obviously respected her. Which they wouldn't do if she was narrowminded or difficult to work with.
Charlotte Walker was a definite puzzle.
And, he acknowledged wryly, she was also gorgeous. Just his type. Slender, with honey-blonde hair worn in a professional-looking French pleat---hair that he'd just bet was soft and silky. He'd itched to release it from its confines and let it trickle through his hands. And she had a perfect rosebud mouth. Even white teeth. Eyes the colour of the midsummer sky.
She was absolutely stunning.
And remote.
And he really should know better. He was at St Piran's to work, not to get involved with someone. Hadn't he promised himself he'd never make the mistake of trusting a woman again?
'Keep it professional,' he advised himself, and drained his coffee before leaving the canteen and walking in the opposite direction from the one Charlotte had taken.
TUESDAY morning saw Charlotte in early, preparing to see one of her patients who was having open heart surgery that morning. Three-year-old Daisy Freeman and her parents had met most of the surgical team the previous day---Fran Somers, the anaesthetist, and Carlo Orsini, the perfusionist---and today they would meet the man who was going to repair the hole in Daisy's heart with a graft.
James Alexander.
Given that today was his first day, he really was going to have to hit the ground running. He'd be practically straight into Theatre, and he'd have just about enough time to introduce himself to the Freemans before he had to start his list.
Charlotte logged into the computer and opened the file, but she wasn't really seeing the images on the screen. Instead, her head was filled with pictures of James. He'd looked utterly sincere when he'd talked to her on Friday, but he still unsettled her. Not because she thought he was the sort who'd hurt her the way Michael had, but because of her own reaction to him. That weird pull she'd felt towards him...It was crazy. Ridiculous. Even though James had made it clear that the press exaggerated its reports on his lifestyle, she knew there was some truth behind the tales. James Alexander was a playboy, and he'd been part of the fast set Jack had been involved with in London. Into flash cars and fashionable clothes, and always partying in the hottest places.
Definitely not a man to trust with your heart.
Ha. Not that she'd ever trust a man with her heart again. Not after Michael.
She was happily single, and she intended to stay that way.
Even as she was thinking it, the back of her neck prickled. She looked up, and saw James leaning against the doorpost, his hand poised to knock.
'Good morning, Charlotte,' he said.
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. 'Good morning, James.'
'I've just checked my list for this morning. My notes say that you're Daisy Freeman's cardiologist.'
'Yes.'
'Good.' He smiled at her. 'You're in early---were you planning to go and see her this morning?'
'Yes. I saw her last night, with her parents, and we talked about what's happening today.' She'd ended up staying beyond the end of her shift, but it didn't matter---it was more important to her to reassure them and help Daisy settle in, the night before her op. 'But it's a big day for them and I want to go and hold their hand while she goes into Theatre.'
'I'll come with you. I'm sure you've already prepared them for the op, but in my experience the parents never sleep the night before, they worry themselves sick, and there are always some last-minute questions. Which,' he said, 'is where I come in. Besides, I prefer to meet my patients and their parents before premed, so I can reassure them. I've read the file so I know the clinical details of Daisy's case. We've been waiting to see if the ASD will close on its own, yes?'
In four out of five babies with Daisy's condition, a small atrial septal defect or 'hole in the heart' would close itself by the time the child was eighteen months old; but if the hole was still there when the child was three, it would need surgery. 'Sadly, it hasn't. I did consider trying catheterisation with a septal occluder,' Charlotte said, 'but the last echo showed me that the hole's too big for it to work.'
'I reviewed the images yesterday,' James said, 'and I agree.'
Two surprises: firstly, that a playboy like James would look at a patient's notes when he wasn't even on duty; and, secondly, that he'd agree with her judgement instead of throwing his weight around to make a point---especially as he had a reputation as a hotshot surgeon. Maybe she really had misjudged him.
'I note as well that Daisy's had a lot of chest infections, so I want to double-check her obs this morning to make absolutely sure she's fit for surgery.'
So his attention to detail wasn't just to his grooming. Good. 'When I saw her last night, she was fine---there wasn't even the hint of a sniffle.'
'Fingers crossed she hasn't developed one overnight. Is there anything else I need to know about Daisy or her family---any particular worries I can help with?'
Charlotte really hadn't expected him to be so considerate of his patient and her parents. She'd thought that James would be more interested in the technical side of things and showing off his surgical skills. The fact he wasn't...That was a real bonus. This was a man she could definitely work with.
The fact he was gorgeous to look at too...Well, that was beside the point.
She forced her thoughts back to work. 'Just the usual parental worries about how successful the surgery's going to be, how quickly Daisy will recover, and how much difference it'll really make to her.'
'I'll keep that in mind.' He looked serious. 'What about Daisy herself---does she have one of those rag dolls with the scars? They're really good for helping little ones prepare for an op.'
Another unexpected twist: not only did James know about the dolls, he clearly encouraged them. 'Yes---her parents have been preparing her for the op for the last week, when we did an ECG and echo and I really wasn't happy with the results.'
James nodded. 'That's about the right length of time to prepare a three-year-old. Role play's one of the best ways of helping them come to terms with an operation and the fact they're going to have scars.'
'She's got a doll with blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her---and she asked me a few questions when I played with her yesterday,' Charlotte volunteered.
James smiled. 'Great. So does her doll have a name?'
'Poppy.'
The fact he'd asked such a simple question showed her that James really was taking his job seriously. He really cared how his patients felt. And Charlotte found herself warming to him.
'And she knows she's going to be in Intensive Care for a couple of days after the op?' he checked.
'Yes. Hannah from the children's ITU took them on a tour yesterday, so Daisy and her parents know exactly what to expect and they won't be worried by all the monitors and tubes.'
'Good. So shall we go and see her?'
'Sure.' It was only then that Charlotte noticed: James was wearing an expensively cut dark suit and what she suspected was a handmade white shirt, but his tie wasn't the sober silk affair she'd expected. It was silk, yes, but it was bright red and covered with bold yellow teddy bears.
'What?' James asked.
'Just...' She paused and raised an eyebrow. 'Admiring your tie.'
'Oh, that.' He shrugged. 'Daisy's three years old and, even though she's probably used to hospitals with her medical history, coming in for an op is still pretty scary. So the teddies are going to make her smile and feel a bit safer with me.'
He'd thought that much about a small detail?
'And before you ask---no, I wouldn't be wearing this to see a teenage boy. I'd switch to a plain tie, flash my James Bond watch around, and talk to him about Aston Martins.'
Now, that she could believe. James probably owned a different sports car for each day of the week. Like Fleming's super-spy, James Alexander had a string of gorgeous girlfriends. And even though he'd gone into a caring profession, he'd chosen one of the most high-profile specialties. The glitz and glamour stuff rather than being someone who quietly made a difference behind the scenes.
'We'd better get going,' she said. She logged out of the computer and stood up; James stood aside courteously and let her lead the way to the children's ward.
Daisy's bed was in a bay at the far end of the ward, and with every step they took Charlotte was aware of the admiring glances cast in James's direction. Unsurprising, because he looked like a fashion plate, and the tie added a hint of quirkiness that would melt practically every female heart on the ward.
'Charlotte, can I have a quick word?' Lisa, one of the new foundation stage two doctors, asked.
'Sure, Lisa. Excuse me, James.' She stepped to one side with the younger doctor. 'What can I do for you?'
'Is he the new heart surgeon?'
Oh, wonderful. She'd been expecting a quick discussion about a patient, not about James! 'Yes. We're here to see Daisy before her op.'
Lisa sighed. 'He's gorgeous. You lucky thing, having to work with him---I definitely wouldn't mind getting up for breakfast if I was sharing it with him!'
What? Surely Lisa didn't think there was something going on between them. 'I didn't share breakfast with him.' Though, now Lisa had put the idea into her head, she could imagine it. James making coffee in her kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a sexy smile, a slight hint of stubble on his cheeks and his hair unruly. James, stealing a bite from her toast, tempting her to lick the crumbs from the corner of his mouth before taking her in his arms and kissing her stupid...
Oh, help. Since when did she fantasise like that? 'It's strictly work,' Charlotte said firmly, as much to keep herself in check as to put Lisa in the picture.
'Looking like that, he was probably snapped up at the age of twelve,' Lisa said ruefully. 'Whenever I've seen him in Great! magazine, he's always with someone gorgeous. But if you find out that he does happen to be available...'
'Sure, I'll put in a word,' Charlotte said.
'You're not tempted yourself?' Lisa asked.
Yes. Not that she was going to admit it. 'I'm quite happy breakfasting with Pandora,' Charlotte said with a smile.
James couldn't help overhearing the very last bit of the conversation. Pandora? Who was Pandora? Charlotte's sister? Her flatmate? Or...
He considered whether Pandora might be Charlotte's partner, then dismissed the idea. No, Charlotte didn't seem the type.
And if she was talking about having breakfast with a friend or her sister or something, not her partner...did that mean she was available?
He turned away, cross with himself. It was ridiculous he was even thinking about it. He had no intention of dating someone he had to work with so closely. Even if she was incredibly pretty, with that silky blonde hair pulled back in another French pleat, the slightest hint of a retroussé nose and a perfect rosebud mouth.
His body reacted instantly to the idea of that mouth exploring his body, that hair loose and trailing over his skin, and he groaned inwardly. For pity's sake. He barely knew her. She'd been reserved with him so far---except when they'd been discussing a patient, when she'd seemed to relax with him.
Plus she'd just told Lisa point blank that she wasn't interested in him.
He needed to get a grip, and keep his mind focused firmly on work. After the mess of his marriage, he wasn't prepared to offer anyone more than a casual relationship, and he knew without asking that Charlotte Walker was definitely not the kind of woman who'd accept that kind of deal. Which meant she was off limits. He found her attractive---very attractive---but he wasn't going to act on that attraction.
'Sorry about that,' Charlotte said, returning to James's side.
He smiled. 'No worries.'
'By the way, do I introduce you to the Freemans as Mr Alexander?'
'James,' he said. 'It's tough enough for parents, seeing their children go into Theatre, without them having to worry about formality and protocol, and what the difference is between calling someone "Doctor" and calling them "Mister".'
Her thoughts exactly. 'Good. And you're OK with Daisy calling you Dr James?'
'She can call me whatever makes her feel comfortable.' He paused. 'What does she call you?'
'Dr Charlotte.'
'Not Dr Charlie?'
'Nobody calls me Charlie,' she said quietly. 'Ever.'
'Noted,' he said.
It wasn't the strict truth. Michael had called her Charlie. But after she'd left Liverpool, she'd made a conscious decision to stick to her full name. Anyone who tried a diminutive was gently but firmly guided back to the name she preferred. Not that she intended to explain any of that to James. That was on a strictly need-to-know basis.
When they reached Daisy's cubicle, Charlotte greeted Leslie and Gary Freeman warmly, then sat on the edge of Daisy's bed and gave her a cuddle. 'Hello, gorgeous.'
'Hello, Dr Charlotte.' The little girl gave her a beaming smile and hugged her back.
'I've brought someone special to see you,' Charlotte said. 'This is Dr James. He's the doctor who's going to fix your heart this morning.'
'Hello, Dr James,' Daisy said shyly.
Charlotte introduced James quickly to Daisy's parents.
'I'm sorry I wasn't in yesterday,' James said, 'but I wanted to see you before the operation. I know Charlotte's already taken you through what's going to happen today, but it's a lot to take in. If you want us to go over anything again, or there's anything else you'd like to know, just ask. That's what I'm here for.'
'Charlotte said that you'll close the hole either with stitches or a patch,' Gary said.
James nodded. 'I've studied Daisy's X-rays and the echocardiogram results---they're the ones that show us how her blood moves through her heart---and in Daisy's case I'm going to use a patch. The whole thing should take about three hours, and she'll be on a bypass machine while I'm closing the hole in her heart.'
'You met Carlo yesterday---he's the one who'll be looking after the bypass machine, and he's getting everything ready for Daisy now,' Charlotte said. 'And you remember Fran, the anaesthetist?' At their nod, she said, 'Fran should be down to see us in about five minutes.'
'Are you and Poppy both ready for your big day, then?' James asked Daisy.
Daisy nodded. 'Poppy had a operation, too. Look.' She showed him the scar on the doll's chest.
'Wow. Shall I tell you a secret?' James asked conspiratorially.
The little girl's blue eyes widened. 'What?'
'My stitches are much neater than that,' James confided in a whisper. 'So you'll only have a little scar, and it'll fade as you get bigger.'
Daisy swallowed. 'Is it going to hurt?'
'The scar? No. If you're worried about the operation, you'll be asleep when I fix your heart, so it won't hurt you at all while I do it,' James said. 'You might feel a little bit sore when you wake up afterwards, but all you have to do is tell Mummy or Daddy or one of the nurses, and they'll make it better.'
'Like when I falled over and hurted my knee,' Daisy said.
'Exactly like that. And I'll tell you another secret. A kiss better always helps.'
Daisy smiled. 'Do you like having a kiss better?'
'Yes, I do,' James said.
Charlotte was shocked at the image that flashed into her head. Of herself kissing James. Crazy. The surgeon didn't need kissing better, and she had no intention of kissing him in any case. Though the idea of it still made her skin heat and her pulse rate speed up a notch. She only hoped that mind-reading wasn't part of his skill set.
'Shall we play with Poppy for a minute, Daisy?' James said. 'I think you need to take her temperature, to check she's not too hot.'
Daisy pretended to take the doll's temperature. 'No, she's just right.'
'Excellent. Now it's my turn---can I check you?'
Daisy nodded; James checked her temperature and indicated the results to Charlotte, who noted it on the chart. 'Like Poppy---just right,' he pronounced.
In the same way, he did the rest of the medical checks to reassure himself that Daisy was fit for surgery, and Daisy was clearly delighted that this tall, handsome man was happy to play dolls with her.
Charlotte had to admit that she was impressed. James had put the little girl at ease very quickly, and as a consequence her parents were more relaxed, too.
'Right, then, Little Miss Beautiful,' James said, smiling at her. 'I have to go and put my doctor's stuff on now. Dr Charlotte here will give you some special medicine that'll make you feel all sleepy, as if your mummy's been reading you your favourite bedtime story, and I'll see you in Theatre very soon.' He ruffled her hair, then turned to Leslie and Gary. 'I'll leave you in Charlotte's very capable hands. As soon as we're out of Theatre, I'll come and see you, and take you to see Daisy in Intensive Care. I know it's easy for me to say, but please try not to worry. She's going to feel so much better in a couple of days.'
Once James had left, Charlotte stayed with the Freemans while Fran arranged Daisy's premeds, and walked with them to Theatre.
Leslie and Gary both made an effort to be smiley and brave for their daughter as she was wheeled through the door, blowing her kisses goodbye, but Leslie was in tears the second that the doors closed behind the trolley.
'Hey, it's going to be fine.' Charlotte held her close and stroked her hair. 'James Alexander has a brilliant reputation as a surgeon. Daisy's in the best hands possible.'
'But isn't he new?' Leslie dragged in a breath. 'The nurses were talking about him last night.'
'New to the hospital, yes, but not new to surgery. He's been working in London at one of the biggest children's hospitals, and he's got lots of experience. Honestly, Leslie, Daisy's in really good hands.'
When Leslie's sobs had died down, Charlotte gave her a last hug. 'Waiting's the worst part. Come and sit in the relatives' room and I'll get you a coffee. Have either of you eaten today?'
'No,' Gary admitted. 'We couldn't face anything this morning.'
'You need to keep your strength up, too. You don't want your blood sugar dipping and making you feel rough on top of all the worry.' Charlotte took them back to the ward, settled them in the relatives' room, and made coffee for them as well as a pile of toast. 'I've had a word with the nursing staff. They said to help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen. They know you're here, and I'll make sure the team in Theatre know where you are, too. As soon as there's any news, James will come and see you.' She patted Leslie's hand. 'I'm in clinic from a quarter past nine for the rest of the morning, but if you need me just ask one of the nurses to bleep me and I'll be straight with you, OK? And as soon as I've finished clinic, I'll come up and see you.'
'Thanks, Charlotte.' Leslie mopped her eyes. 'I'm sorry. I should pull myself together.'
'Anyone in your shoes would be doing exactly the same thing. But, as James said, hold onto the fact that she's going to be so much better in a few days.'
Charlotte was scrupulous in paying attention to her patients during her clinic, doing routine echos and ECGs, but she was also very aware of the time. As the morning ticked on and she still hadn't been bleeped, she began to worry. She knew that the operation usually took three hours, so she should have heard something by now.
Which meant either something was very badly wrong, or James hadn't bothered keeping her in the picture.
She just prayed it was the latter.
When she'd seen her last patient, she headed for her office to ring Intensive Care and find out if Daisy was back from Theatre and how she was doing. The phone rang as she was about to pick it up; suppressing a sigh, she answered. 'Cardio, Charlotte speaking.'
'Charlotte, it's Dave in Emergency. I know you usually do kids, but I can't get hold of Tim and I've got a patient here with bradycardia. I really don't like the look of the ECG. Could you do us a favour and take a look?'
No, I need to find out how my patient is doing, Charlotte thought. But then she pulled herself together. As much as she wanted to find out about Daisy, she was here to do a job. And she was needed in the emergency department. 'Sure. I'm on my way.'
As she left the department, she called into Steffie's office. 'Tim's not responding to his bleep, so Emergency called me---so you know where I am if anyone needs me.'
'Rightio. Do you want me to let this afternoon's clinic know you'll be running late?'
'I should be back in time. But if you can do me a huge favour---I still haven't heard how Daisy Freeman's doing. Obviously Mr Alexander was too busy to get a message through, so can you ask Barb to find out for me, please?' Barbara, the departmental secretary, was an organisational wizard. 'And I'd appreciate it if she can let Leslie and Gary know where I am, too. They're probably in the Paediatric ITU right now with Daisy, though I left them in the relatives' room before clinic this morning.'
'I'll get Barb onto it,' Steffie said. 'Do you want me to bring you a sandwich back from the canteen?'
'Please---and I promise I'll grab five minutes to eat it.'
'You'd better.' Steffie's voice was stern, but there was a twinkle in her eyes.
'Bleep me if you need me,' Charlotte said, smiling back at her, and left the department.
WHEN Charlotte came back to the cardiology unit from the emergency department, she went to find Steffie. 'Dave's sending a patient up. Is Tim back from wherever he was, so I can tell him what I've done?'
'He's gone home with a bug. Barb's rearranging his clinic for this afternoon.'
Charlotte knew what that meant. They were short-staffed and she'd need to do Tim's rounds. 'OK. I've done the admission forms. Mrs Harvey was bradycardic---Dave and I think she might be hypothyroid and it hasn't been picked up, so we've sent off some bloods. She didn't respond to atropine, so I've put in a temporary pacing wire to get her heart back to a normal rhythm.'
'I'll keep an eye on her, and come and get you if there's a problem.'
Charlotte knew that Steffie was experienced enough to spot a problem quickly, and could tell exactly when to deal with it herself and when to call one of the cardiologists. 'Thanks, Steffie. I'll come and see her again when my clinic's finished, and I'll do Tim's round then as well. Did Barb manage to find out how Daisy's doing?'
'Still in Theatre.'
Charlotte winced. 'That's really not good. Do we know what the problem is?'
'No, but James has a real reputation.'
Charlotte bit her lip. 'I hope he lives up to it.' His reputation as an excellent surgeon, she meant---not the one he had as a playboy.
'I'm sure he will. Stop worrying, and you make sure you take a break before you go into clinic, OK? Here.' She handed Charlotte a packet of sandwiches.
'Thanks, you're an angel. How much do I owe you?'
The call light flashed outside one of the rooms, and Steffie waved a dismissive hand. 'Settle up with me later. I have to run. And make sure you take a break!'
'Course I will,' Charlotte fibbed, and bolted her sandwich as she checked through the list for her afternoon clinic.
Although she paid scrupulous attention to each of her patients, she looked at her pager between every appointment, just in case there was news. Nothing.
Her last patient was twelve-year-old Ellis Martyn, who was accompanied by his mother, Judy. The teachers at high school had picked up on Ellis being very short of breath in PE lessons; the GP had confirmed a heart murmur and referred him to Charlotte.
'What you have is something called Ebstein's anomaly,'she explained. 'It's quite a rare heart condition, but the important thing is that we can do something to help you.'
'So I'm going to be really ill?' Ellis asked.
She smiled. 'I should jolly well hope not!' She did a quick sketch on the pad before her. 'See this bit here? This is the tricuspid valve. It separates the chamber of your heart that receives blood from the body and the chamber of your heart that pumps the blood to your lungs so it can be oxygenated. In your case, Ellis, the valve's situated too low in your heart and it leaks backwards. That means some of the unoxygenated blood goes into your body instead of to your lungs---so that's why you're tired a lot of the time, why you get a bit short of breath and why sometimes your mouth looks a bit blue.' Gently, she took his hand and turned it palm down. 'See, your nail beds are a bit blue as well. When I did the test measuring the amount of oxygen in your blood, it told me the oxygen levels were too low; the X-rays told me your heart's definitely enlarged; and the echo showed me that the valve was leaking. Now, you said your heart started racing every so often?'
The boy nodded.
'When I hooked you up to the machine so I could see how your heart beats, the rhythm seemed fine, so I'd like you to take a portable recorder home with you and come back and see me in about a week. I'll show you and your mum how to attach it and do the recording, and then I can see how the rhythm of your heart changes.'
'What's going to happen next?' Judy asked.
'Right now, I'm going to put Ellis on antibiotics. It's not going to cure you,' she warned, 'but it should prevent you picking up an infection that'll affect your endocardium---that's the lining in the chambers of your heart.'
Judy was scribbling away in a notepad, and Charlotte reached over to squeeze her hand. 'Judy, there's a lot to take in and I appreciate you have a lot of questions. I can give you a leaflet to take away with you, and I'm also going to write you a proper letter, explaining everything, so you don't have to worry about taking notes. It'll be in the post first thing tomorrow morning, and I'll send a copy to your family doctor as well. But I do think we're looking at surgery, so I want to talk to James Alexander, our cardiac surgeon. He'll need to repair the valve so it stops leaking and makes Ellis well again.'
Ellis looked worried. 'Is it going to hurt?'
'You'll be a bit sore afterwards,' Charlotte said gently, 'but the important thing is that we do something to help you.'
'How did he get it? And is he going to...?' Judy stopped, clearly not wanting to ask the question in front of her son.
Charlotte squeezed her hand again. 'He was born with it. In Ellis's case, it's relatively mild, because it wasn't picked up before. Your new GP sent you both to see me because of Ellis's symptoms, so my guess is that the breathlessness and blueness round his lips have got worse over the years.' She smiled at them. 'The good news is that if Ebstein's isn't diagnosed until you're a year old, you have a good chance of having a normal life. Ellis is twelve, so he's got an even better chance of living a completely normal life.'
'But he's going to have heart surgery...'
'Open heart surgery.' Charlotte nodded. 'Very likely. What I'd like is for you to come back next week and talk to the surgeon with me.'
James. Gorgeous, hotshot James who hadn't bothered telling her how her patient was. But it wasn't the Martyns' fault, so she wasn't going to let them see her anger.
'If the surgeon agrees with me that Ellis needs surgery, now's a goodish time as Ellis is relatively well and the school holidays start very soon. If we do the op in the first week of the holidays, it'll give him a few weeks to recover before the new term starts.'
'What about exercise? Should he stop doing anything?' Judy asked.
Charlotte shook her head. 'Do what you're comfortable with. I'd say steer clear of really intense, competitive sports, but regular, gentle exercise is good for you. Walking, swimming, cycling...' She smiled at Ellis. 'Provided you're not going for the sprint record, that is!'
As soon as the clinic had finished, Charlotte went in search of Steffie. 'Any news of Daisy?'
'Not yet.'
Charlotte sighed. 'Then I'll check Mrs Harvey and do Tim's round. I hope we've got cover for tomorrow.'
'Yes---Barb's sorted it.'
'And let me settle up with you for that sandwich.'
Steffie rolled her eyes. 'Charlotte, it was a sandwich, and you've done the same for me plenty of times. Stop fussing.'
Charlotte had finished the rounds and was going through the paperwork in her office when James turned up, carrying two paper cups of coffee with lids. She just about resisted the urge to yell at him and ask him what the hell he was playing at, not keeping her in touch with the results of Daisy's operation; and it annoyed her that her heart gave that funny little skip as soon as her gaze meshed with his. She didn't react to people like that. Didn't want to react to him like that.
She took a deep breath and asked quietly, 'Is Daisy all right?'
'She's fine. Here.' He passed her one of the cups of coffee.
She took a sip. It was just how she liked it, strong with just a dash of milk. 'Thank you,' she said. 'It's the first chance I've had for a hot drink all day. How did you know how I take my coffee?'
'I asked Steffie---and I owed you a coffee from yesterday, before you protest.'
'You don't owe me anything.' Including, it seemed, the courtesy of letting her know how her patient was getting on.
He sighed. 'Look, you're the paediatric cardiologist and I'm the paediatric heart surgeon. We're going to have to work together, whether we like it or not---and I for one would much rather have smooth working relationships. It's better for the patients.'
Charlotte felt herself flush. 'Rebuke accepted.'
'It wasn't meant to be a rebuke.' He dragged a hand through his hair. 'I think we're getting off on the wrong foot.' He frowned as she laughed. 'What?'
'Your hair's all messy now.'
'And?'
'And I'm waiting for you to whip out the comb and the mirror.'
'I'm not that vain. Well, not quite,' he amended. 'Anyway, I wanted to keep you in the loop about Daisy.'
'Who was supposed to be out of Theatre more than four hours ago,' she said pointedly.
'There were complications.'
She could see shadows under his eyes, and panicked. Despite his reassurance earlier, now she wasn't so sure. 'What sort of complications?'
'May I?' James gestured to the chair by her desk.
'Help yourself.'
He sprawled in the chair and set his coffee on her desk. 'The op was a success, but she arrested in the middle of surgery twice---that's why I'm late. Obviously she's settled in ITU now and Leslie and Gary are by her bed.'
'Thanks. I'll go and see them. My reports can wait.'
'Leave it a few minutes,' he said softly. 'She's still sedated, and I told them we won't be waking her up properly until tomorrow morning.'
It was standard procedure after open heart surgery. It meant that the child was on a ventilator that would breathe for her, and that reduced the work her heart had to do so she could rest properly.
'So how's your afternoon been?' he asked.
'Pretty busy,' she admitted. 'The emergency department needed me because Tim---he's the other cardiac registrar---went home with a bug.'
'So you do adults as well as children?'
'Not usually---I do the kids and Tim does the adults. But we can cover each other's patients, obviously, when we have to. And I do have a patient I want to talk to you about in the next few days---Ellis has Ebstein's, and I think we're looking at valve replacement. The ECG didn't show any sign of tachycardia, so I've sent him home with a portable recorder to see what it picks up. But the results from the echo are pretty clear---the valve's leaking. I've made an appointment for them to come back next week, and I think you need to be in on the consultation, as the surgeon.'
'Sure. We'll synchronise diaries.'
'Thanks.'
Clearly Charlotte was very dedicated, James thought. She didn't seem to bat an eyelid about doing a colleague's rounds: she just got on with it. She was quiet and hardworking, so different from the women in his life---even his mother was a society sophisticate who spent her time partying and shopping. Whereas Charlotte Walker was an oasis of calm. Funny, he'd always been one for the bright lights and glitz, but right now he found himself yearning for calm. And Charlotte fascinated him because he didn't have a clue about what made her tick. 'What made you choose cardiology?' he asked abruptly.
She looked surprised, but then she shrugged, as if she'd decided it wasn't really a personal question. 'Originally, I was going to specialise in paediatrics. While I was training we had a blue baby and lost her; it really got to me, and I ended up reading up lots on the subject. I wanted to make a difference, so I decided to go into cardiology. And I tend to work on the paediatric cases, so I get the best of both worlds.' She paused. 'What about you?'
James could have put some spin on it, but he knew that she'd guess straight away that he was being smooth. He didn't want her to think him a liar, so he decided to be honest. 'Not quite so noble, I'm afraid. For me, it was a toss-up between cardiac surgery and brain surgery, but cardiac was the more competitive discipline at the time.'
'And you like to be seen as the best.'
He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. 'Shocking, isn't it?'
'You're shameless.'
'No,' he corrected, 'I'm honest.'
She made a noncommittal noise. 'Thanks for letting me know what happened. I think I'd better go up and see the Freemans now.' She waved her hand at the papers on her desk. 'Tonight's post has already gone, so it doesn't matter if I do them later tonight now. They'll be ready for tomorrow.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'You'll be working late, then.'
'I'm not going to leave my patients---or their parents---waiting for reassurance any longer than I have to. Anyway, Tim would've done the same for me if I'd been hit by a virus.'
'Look, I was three hours longer in Theatre than I expected to be. I had to reschedule some appointments and I have reports to write,'he said. 'So I'm going to be working late tonight, too. Why don't we have dinner together?'
'Thanks, but no.'
He stared at her. That was it? Just 'no'? No explanation?
'You're already having dinner with someone tonight?' he guessed.
She shook her head.
'Then why won't you have dinner with me?'
'Because,' she said, 'I don't think we'd like the same sort of places.'
'Try me. Show me where you like to eat in St Piran.'
'Thanks, but I'd rather not.' Still calm, quiet, but very firm.
James couldn't remember the last time he'd been turned down. And it stung. But there was more to it than that: since meeting Charlotte the previous day, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Right now, she was polite, sweet and super-smiley---and he had the feeling that she'd just stuck an enormous glass wall between them. And he had no idea why.
'Would it help,'he asked, 'if I said that I'm new around here and I'm trying very hard to make a new friend, not asking you out on a date?'
The wariness in her eyes was quickly masked. 'A friend.'
'Uh-huh. I'm paying, seeing as it's my idea, but if it makes you feel better, you can pay next time.'
She was silent for so long that he thought he'd blown it. And then she nodded. 'As friends.'
'Good.' He scooped his coffee cup off her desk and stood up. 'I'll be in my office. Come and get me when you've seen the Freemans.'
'OK. And, James?'
He paused in the doorway.
This time she gave him a smile that did reach her eyes. A smile that made his heart skip a beat. 'Thanks for the coffee.'
When Charlotte went through to Intensive Care, the Freemans both looked tired and stressed, but slightly less anxious than they'd done that morning.
She hugged both of them. 'I'm so sorry that I didn't come up earlier.'
'That's OK, we got your messages. That lovely lady told us you had to hold the fort.' Leslie shook her head in apparent frustration. 'Sorry, I don't remember her name.'
'Barbara,' Charlotte said gently.
'Sorry, I couldn't think.'
'I'm not surprised. You've had a hell of a day.'
Leslie was trembling. 'To think, we almost lost her.'
Gary put his arm round his wife's shoulders and held her close. 'Hey, she's a fighter, like her mum. She's not going to give up easily and we're definitely not giving up on her.'
They were going through such a rough time, Charlotte thought, and yet they were lucky: they still had each other. They still had a deep love between them to support them through all the worry and the waiting. The kind of love she knew that she'd never experience. Not after Michael.
She pushed the thought away. Ridiculous. She'd made her decision a long time ago and knew it was the right one. This wistfulness just wasn't her. She was a practical, sensible cardiologist and she needed to remember that.
'James was really good. He stayed with us for half an hour, even though he'd been concentrating on our Daisy for so long and he hadn't had a break---he came straight out of Theatre to see us. He must have been worn out, but he never once made us feel we were taking up his time or being a nuisance. He's a lovely man,' Leslie said.
Lovely, maybe. But he was also dangerous. She must've been mad to agree to go out with him tonight---even as friends.
'I'll let you get back to Daisy,' she said. 'I just wanted to come up and see how you were all doing. Remember you can get hold of me any time you're worried---just tell them to bleep me. I'm taking my pager home tonight.'
'Thank you.' Gary hugged her.
Charlotte finished off her paperwork, then headed for James's office. She watched him from the door for a moment; he was concentrating on his report, oblivious to her presence. Without that smile, he was still gorgeous---a fine bone structure, the longest, darkest, sexiest eyelashes she'd ever seen---and when he looked serious like that, his mouth was utterly kissable.
Having dinner with him tonight was a bad idea. Maybe she should back out, saying that she had a headache. And yet part of her wanted to know: what was James really like, behind that glossy exterior? When he'd said he could use a friend, there had been a hint of vulnerability. Something she couldn't put her finger on, but something that she found hard to resist.
She rapped on the door, and he looked up.
'Hi. How were the Freemans?'
'OK. I'm taking my bleeper with me, by the way.'
'Make that two of us,' he said, surprising her. 'I'm starving. Give me two seconds to save this file.' Deftly, he tapped the keys to save his file, log off and switch off the computer.
'So where are we going?' James asked
'There's a pub ten minutes' walk from here. They do the best lasagne in St Piran.'
'I adore lasagne. Good. Is your car in the hospital car park?'
'No, I walked in.'
'So are we going in the right direction for you?'
She had a nasty feeling that he was going to offer to walk her home---and she wasn't quite ready for that. She wasn't really ready to go out with him tonight either. 'It's fine,'she said hastily.
Although the pub was busy, James managed to find them a quiet table. He ordered the same as she did, including a glass of mineral water. 'If you get called back, so will I,'he reminded her, 'and I never drink alcohol if there's a possibility a patient might need me.'
He kept the conversation light, mainly work, and Charlotte found herself relaxing with him. James was good company, full of anecdotes that made her laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed an evening so much. And when his fingers accidentally brushed against hers as they both reached for their drinks at the same time, she didn't whip her hand away, as she would normally have done. Instead, she actually found herself enjoying the contact.
Which was worrying. And yet exciting, at the same time. There was something about James; she couldn't put her finger on it, but he was...different. Definitely not like Michael. And not like the men she'd dated in the past.
They were halfway through their lasagne when there was a flash. At first, Charlotte thought someone on another table was taking a group photograph, but when the flashes were repeated, James sighed.
'Just ignore it,' he said.
She frowned. 'Ignore what?'
'Paparazzi.' He rolled his eyes. 'Obviously they've worked out where I am. If you don't make a fuss, they take their picture and then they leave you alone.'
She couldn't quite get her head round this. 'The press are following you?'
He shrugged. 'They've done it ever since I was small. My mum was a top model and Dad's a bit of a big noise in the business world, so once my brother and I came along, I guess it was natural for the press to be interested in us, too.'
'People take your photograph and it doesn't bother you?'
'Actually, it does,'he said, 'but if you make a fuss, the paparazzi think there's a story and it blows up out of proportion. So I've learned that you get a quieter life if you just leave it.'
Charlotte frowned. 'So is someone going to print a photograph of you and me together?'
'There might be something in one of the gossip rags.' He shrugged. 'But you and I know we're just colleagues. Everyone at work knows we're colleagues. And the people who read those magazines know that most of the gossip stuff is just that---pure supposition, not fact. So it's not a big deal.'
'Not a big deal?' Charlotte shook her head. 'James, I'm not comfortable with the idea of a photographer following me around.'
'It's not what you signed up for. I know.' He shrugged. 'And I'm sorry. But trust me on this. It'll be a two-day wonder. Then some celeb or other will be caught wearing something a bit indiscreet at the beach, and the attention will all go there.'
'But I'm not going to be doorstepped or anything?'
'Probably not. Though, to be on the safe side, we'll put you in a taxi from the back of the pub and get the cabbie to take you the long way home.' He smiled at her. 'Just forget about them and finish your lasagne.'
She tried, but she had to admit defeat. How could James be so cool about this kind of interference in his life? 'Sorry. I've lost my appetite.'
'I'm sorry, too,' James said, sounding rueful. 'Because the dessert menu looked fabulous. Maybe next time?'
'Maybe,' she said, trying to sound noncommittal.
True to his word, James organised a taxi for her. On the pretext of going to the loo, she slipped out to meet the taxi driver, while James remained in the pub as the focus for the photographer's attention. Just as James had suggested, the cabbie took the long way home, and Charlotte was surprised to discover that James had already paid the fare. Although she didn't like the idea of being in his debt like this, she had a feeling he'd come up with a reason she couldn't argue with.
When Charlotte unlocked her front door, Pandora was waiting for her on the bottom stair; she bent and scooped up the beautiful Burmese blue, and Pandora purred a welcome.
'Sorry I'm late,' she said, closing the front door behind her. 'It's been one of those days.'
Pandora rubbed her cheek against Charlotte's, as if saying that she knew exactly what kind of day Charlotte meant.
Charlotte set her briefcase down on the floor and went through to the kitchen; she sat down at the kitchen table, and the cat curled comfortably on her lap. 'I can't get James Alexander out of my head and that worries me,' she said, making a fuss of the cat. 'I always said I wouldn't get involved again. And yet...There's something about him that makes me want to take a chance.'
Kate Althorp turned the shower on to full and stepped underneath it. At least with the water going, she knew that Jem wouldn't hear her crying.
She was so sick of being brave. But she sure as hell wasn't going to dump how she was feeling on a ten-year-old boy who was feeling even more scared than she was. Which was why she was crying on her own in the shower at nine o'clock in the evening.
She'd told Jem half of it---given that she was going to have to stay in St Piran's for a couple of days, she couldn't exactly not tell him. So she'd explained that she'd found a lump, that she'd been to see the doctor and there was a problem, but just as Jem's face had crumpled, she'd hugged him hard. 'Hey. It's going to be OK. Dr Bower said she was pretty sure all she has to do is take out the lump. I have to stay in for a couple of days, but it's going to be right at the beginning of the summer holidays and you're going to have a really mega-sleepover at Matthew's. Rob says he'll take you both out on your bikes and down to the beach, and you're going to have loads of pizza and ice cream. It's all going to be fine.'
God only knew how she'd found the strength to say it with a smile on her face. And keep back the warning that Rob knew about: that the plan was for a lumpectomy, but things might change. Once she was on the table, and Dr Bower had opened her up and seen what was there around the lump.
And she definitely wasn't going to tell Jem of her fears.
What if it wasn't just one little lump? What if, once she was on the table, Dr Bower found it had already spread to the lymph nodes---or, God forbid, further than that?
What if they hadn't caught it in time?
What if she didn't live to see her boy grow up?
Despite the heat of the water, Kate couldn't stop her teeth chattering. Couldn't stop the waves of fear. There was still so much she wanted to share with Jem. She wanted to see him grow up into the sweet, clever, loving man she knew he'd become. She wanted to be there when he passed his exams at school, teach him to drive, help him fly when he finally wanted to leave the nest. She wanted to be there on his wedding day, seeing him pledge his love to a woman who'd love him all the way back. She wanted to hold his firstborn child, and as she looked into her grandchild's eyes she would remember the moment she'd first held Jem and looked into his eyes.
There were so many things she still wanted to do.
And what if she didn't have the time? What if she never got to share those moments with him, never got the chance to make those precious memories?
She was all he had, as far as Jem was concerned.
Except...she wasn't. Because Jem had a father---a father who still wouldn't recognise him, despite his promise to try. A father who'd walked away from them both after a stupid throwaway comment by a tourist.
Things between her and Nick had been incredibly strained ever since.
But if the worst came to the worst, Jem would need someone to look after him. He'd need a father. Kate dragged in a breath. Jem had to come first. Which meant she had to go and face Nick. Talk to him again. Make sure that, if something happened to her, he'd take care of their son. That he'd look after Jem and love him and be there for him. If he really had to save face and stop tongues wagging in Penhally, he could always say he was being the guardian to the son of an old friend. And then instead of being just 'Uncle Nick', who blew hot and cold, he could be a real father to Jem.
But would Nick see it the same way?
ON THE Wednesday morning, Charlotte called into Intensive Care before her shift to see Daisy and her parents. James was already there, and greeted her with a smile. 'Perfect timing. We're going to wake Daisy up shortly,' he said. 'She'll still have a breathing tube in for a little while; once we're happy she's breathing well, we'll take the tube out and give her an oxygen mask, to help ease her back into breathing on her own. Hopefully I'll be able to remove the pacing wires and her chest drains tomorrow, and she'll be back on the children's ward on Friday.'
'It'll be lovely just to hear her chattering,' Leslie said.
'That might be a little while, because she'll have a bit of sore throat,'James warned. 'But encourage her to sip water, little and often. Now, I need a quick word with Charlotte about a couple of patients---do you mind if I just whisk her off into the corridor?'
'Sure,' Gary said with a smile.
Charlotte stepped outside with James.
'Did you get home all right last night without any trouble?' he asked.
'Yes. And thank you for paying for the taxi. You didn't need to do that.'
'Actually, I did. If it hadn't been for the press, you would've walked home.'
'True. But it was still nice of you.' She paused. 'Maybe I could buy you lunch today.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'Are you asking me out?'
Yes. No. A dozen replies skittered round her head, but nothing would come out of her mouth.
This was awful. She was never indecisive like this.
Now he'd think she was a complete idiot.
James reached out to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers; his touch and his smile made her knees go weak.
'I'm teasing, Charlotte. Lunch would be great. And, actually, I have a favour to ask.'
'What sort of favour?'
'I hear you're fitting a pacemaker today. Do you mind if I come and sit in?'
She blinked. 'Aren't you in Theatre? I thought you had another ASD to fix?'
'I did, but I wasn't happy with my patient's obs. I think she's cutting a tooth, but I'm not risking it in case the temperature's caused by something else---I've put it back a fortnight to give her a chance either to get over any infection or cut the tooth. I have a free slot, so it's a good opportunity to see the cath lab here in action.'
She was relieved that he'd gone back to a common-sense, professional approach. Something she could do, too, without making a fool of herself. 'As long as my patient and his mum don't mind,' she said.
'And he's your first patient this morning?'
'Yes. I'm going to see him on the children's ward after I've talked to the Freemans.'
'I might as well join you.'
She had a quick catch-up with the Freemans, gave them the book she'd bought to cheer Daisy up---about a cat just like her own---and, on the way to the children's ward, she filled James in about Danny, her twelve-year-old patient with an irregular heartbeat. She gave his tie a sidelong glance. 'I'm glad you don't have the teddies today, because I think Danny might be a bit sarcastic about it.'
James laughed. 'I was a teenage boy once, too.'
'Don't come in with me. It'll make them feel pressured,' Charlotte said, 'and if they say no, I'm not going to push them.'
'Sure.'
On the ward, Danny was wearing a hospital gown and was looking fed up with waiting. After she'd greeted him and his mother and made sure they were both happy with what was going to happen that morning, she asked, 'Danny, Maria, would you mind if my colleague sits in on the procedure? He's new to the hospital and wants to see this side of the cardio unit in action.'
'Fine by me,' Danny said with a shrug.
'Me, too,' Maria said.
'Excellent. I'll just go and get him.'
When she stepped into the corridor, she wasn't surprised to discover James was flirting with Lisa. 'Sorry to interrupt,' she said coolly, 'but if you want to come with us to the cath lab, James, it's fine with Danny and Maria.'
'That's great. See you later, Lisa.' James gave the junior doctor a dazzling smile, which made Charlotte feel distinctly out of sorts---and cross with herself for feeling that way---and then walked with her to Danny's bedside.
She introduced him swiftly. 'This is my colleague James, the cardiac surgeon.'
'That's James, as in Bond,' James said with a grin.
'You are such a flanneller,' Charlotte said.
'Hey. I have the watch to prove it.' He pulled the cuff of his shirt back just far enough to show Danny his watch.
'Wow, that's so cool,' Danny said, his eyes widening.
Maria, too, seemed impressed by James. Well, that was par for the course. James seemed to be able to charm practically anyone female.
'And I've got a pilot's licence,' James added.
'Really?' Danny looked seriously impressed.
Charlotte groaned. 'Oh, for goodness' sake. Next thing, he's going to tell you he's got an Aston Martin.'
'I have. It's a DBS V12,' James said with a grin. 'A silver one.'
'No way,' Danny said, sounding delighted. 'Can I go for a ride in it?'
'If it's OK with your mum, sure you can.'
Charlotte folded her arms. 'Enough of the Bond stuff, guys. We're doing real bionic stuff here.'
'For your information, Dr Walker, the Aston Martin's real,' James said. 'I'll prove it---I'll give you a lift home in it some time.'
'You can give me a lift home, if you like,' Danny suggested with a beaming smile.
'Not tonight, he can't,' Charlotte said. 'I want you in where we can keep an eye on you and make sure that it's all gone well.'
James and his Aston Martin. She really wasn't sure whether he was teasing or telling the truth; given that his watch was exactly what he'd said it was, she had a feeling that it was the latter. Completely flashy.
But at least it had taken the worry out of Danny's eyes.
'I'm utterly starving. Mum wouldn't even let me have a drink of water after eight o'clock last night, and I'm absolutely desperate for a cheeseburger with extra tomato ketchup. The only thing I've had today was antibiotics, and that was disgusting!' Danny complained.
Charlotte laughed. 'That's to make sure you don't pick up an infection. And I really hate to tell you this, but you've got an antibiotic for lunch and for dinner.'
Danny groaned. 'Oh, that's so unfair.'
She smiled. 'If you're good, I might let you have some food as well.'
'I'll be good. Really good. Scouts' honour,' Danny said quickly.
She ruffled his hair. 'I know. Now, you're OK with the fact it's an overnight stay and tomorrow you need a day's rest?'
'Sure.'
'The op's going to take about an hour. We went through it last time, but I know it's a lot to take in so I'll quickly run through what I'm going to do when we get to the cath lab.'
Once they were settled, she showed them the pacemaker. 'Basically, it's a battery and electronic circuit sealed in metal. The circuit takes energy from the battery and turns it into electrical impulses; the impulses go down an electrode to your heart and make it beat in the right kind of rhythm. It works "on demand", so if your heartbeat goes irregular it'll kick in, but if your heart's beating normally it won't interfere. It's also like a tiny computer, because it stores information that I can retrieve in a machine and tells me how well your heart and the pacemaker are working.'
'So it's really bionic,' Danny said. 'Cool.'
She smiled at him. 'I'm going to fit a dual chamber pacemaker---that just means it has two leads. Now, you're right-handed, yes?'
'Yes.'
'Then I'll put this on your left-hand side. OK---can you take your top off for me?' The boy was still smooth-chested, so she didn't have to shave him, but she cleansed the area she was going to work with, covered him with sterile drapes and got him ready for the op. Swiftly, she put an IV line in. 'I'm going to give you the anaesthetic now. You'll feel a bit hot and then you'll feel a bit woozy. I'm not going to hurt you, but you might feel as if I'm pulling you a bit. Are you ready?'
'Ready,' Danny said.
She gave him the anaesthetic. 'OK, Danny?' she asked. At his nod, she said, 'Good boy. It's not going to be long now.'
James watched Charlotte working: how she made a small incision just below Danny's collarbone and threaded an electrode through a vein in his shoulder. She guided it into the correct chamber of his heart, using the X-ray screen to show her where the electrode was going, then secured it in position. After that, she connected the electrode to the pacemaker, cut a small pocket between the skin and the muscle of Danny's chest, slid the pacemaker inside and closed up the pocket.
James was impressed by how deft her hands were and how neat the sutures were; Charlotte was very, very good with her hands. He could just imagine those hands stroking his skin, and it made him shiver.
Bad.
Very bad.
He was supposed to be concentrating on work and staying single, not letting himself get distracted by a colleague.
But he found Charlotte irresistible. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she seemed completely unaware of it. Charlotte wasn't like the woman who'd stomped all over his heart and made sure the cameras saw her doing it; she was kind and sweet. And he really, really wanted her.
He caught her gaze and saw a momentary flare of heat, quickly damped down again.
So it was mutual.
Good.
'When the anaesthetic wears off, is it going to hurt? Like when I broke my arm ice-skating?' Danny asked.
'There will be a bit of bruising around the site, but it shouldn't be too bad,' Charlotte reassured him, 'and we'll give you painkillers. You won't even be able to see the pacemaker, because it'll be hidden by your muscle.'
Danny, clearly making an effort to joke to mask his fears, said, 'I always knew I was a muscle man at heart. And now I'm a bionic muscle man.'
'You certainly are,' Charlotte said. 'I want to check your pacemaker now to be sure it's working, so I'm going to put this magnet on your skin. This will pull a switch inside the pacemaker to make it work and send electrical impulses into your heart, and I can programme it with this computer. You might feel your heart beating faster, but don't worry---just tell me what you're feeling, when you're feeling it.'
She checked that the pacemaker was running properly, listening to what Danny said and adjusting it accordingly. 'Yep, this will do.'She removed the magnet. 'Right, all done. You've been absolutely brilliant.' She smiled at him. 'Don't do any vigorous exercise for three weeks in case you move it out of position, but try and keep your shoulder mobile. You need to do some gentle movements on the side where I fitted the pacemaker; the physio will show you what to do a bit later, when you're back on the ward.'
'Can I still play footy?' Danny asked.
She glanced at James; to her relief, he picked up the unspoken message that this might be something that was better coming from someone who played football and understood just how much of a wrench it would be to stop playing. 'Contact sports are out, I'm afraid,'James explained. 'You need to avoid getting hit or kicked on the area around your pacemaker---so I'd avoid football, rugby and kickboxing.'
'And I suppose tennis and cricket have a risk of me being whacked, too,' Danny said glumly.
'I'm afraid so.'
The boy looked devastated. 'So what does that leave me? Walking the dog? Or is that banned, too?'
'Walking's fine. Or athletics. Swimming. And I'd wear a pad over the area where your pacemaker is, to be safe.'
'Oh.' He digested the news. 'Am I still allowed to kiss my girlfriend?'
Maria looked shocked. 'Danny, since when do you have a girlfriend? And how come I don't know about her?'
'Mu-u-um, I'm not going to tell you, am I? That's gross!' The boy shuffled on his seat. 'It's not as if I'm having sex with her.'
'I should hope not!'
'We just hold hands and kiss, that's all,' Danny said. 'It's cool. Really.'
'Hmm. We'll talk later,' Maria said, clearly not wanting to embarrass her son by discussing it in front of the doctors.
'Can I still use my games console?' Danny asked, looking worried.
'Yes. Pacemakers are built so they shouldn't interfere with equipment. You don't have to worry about avoiding the microwave or a computer---though you do need to make sure you keep your mobile phone away from the pacemaker. Use your right ear as it's on your left, and don't put your phone in your left pocket. And you also need to carry your pacemaker registration card with you in case you set off security system in airports or shops.' She grinned. 'It has been known to happen.'
'So I can use my games console on the ward?'
'Provided you take things easy and don't use any wireless connections.'
'Or my mobile phone.' He nodded. 'Mum's already told me about it interfering with stuff.'
Maria rolled her eyes. 'Believe it or not, Danny, I was your age once.'
'Tell you a secret, Danny,' James said. 'Mothers always know best.'
'You can go back to the ward whenever you feel like it,' Charlotte said. 'I'll come and see you later, and then give you an X-ray tomorrow before I let you out.'
'Cool.' Danny smiled at her.
'You might be a bit sore, but just tell the nurse if you are, OK? And I meant it about the antibiotics---it's to make sure you don't get any infections. When you get home, if you notice any redness, swelling or discharge, or you get a fever, see your family doctor or come back to us straight away.'
'What about his stitches? When do they need to come out?' Maria asked.
'They're dissolvable ones,' James said. 'Before you go tomorrow, we'll give you a letter to take to your GP.'
'But you'll be back in a month to see us, to check everything's OK, and then in three months' time, and eventually you'll go down to just an annual check to make sure the battery's still working,' Charlotte added.
When Danny returned to the ward, James said, 'I'm impressed. I like the way you work.'
She inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'Thank you.'
'I think it's a good idea, too, to see how each other works. Maybe you'd like to sit in on one of my operations.'
'Maybe.'
'How about the Ebstein's case you were telling me about---Ellis, wasn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Good.' He smiled at her. 'By the way, I really was telling the truth about my car---I cycled in today, but the car's in my garage. I'm dying to explore the Cornish coast. How about you come with me on Saturday and show me around a bit?'
It was tempting. Seriously tempting. She got as far as starting to say yes---and then she remembered what had happened in the pub and backed off. 'Sorry. No can do.'
'You were about to say yes.'
'I was,'she admitted, 'but I don't want to be dragged through the press, James.' She wanted to keep her private life just that: private. 'I'm sorry. I don't do flash. I'm not like the beauty queens you date.'
'That's true, though probably not in the way you're thinking,' James said. 'How about if I say just as friends?'
Friends. She tried to think of him sitting in her garden, with Pandora draped round his neck, and failed; apart from the fact that Pandora was even more wary of men than Charlotte herself was, she couldn't picture James doing anything so domesticated. Couldn't picture him in old jeans and a faded black T-shirt and bare feet. He was definitely the formal designer suit, handmade shirt and Italian shoe type.
And it would be much, much safer for her if she said no. Keeping temptation well out of arm's reach.
'I'm sorry, James. But thank you for asking,' she said politely.
'Is it true?' Steffie asked, coming into the staff kitchen later that day and looking at Charlotte with her arms folded.
'Is what true?'
'That James Alexander asked you out and you turned him down.'
'Mmm,' she said, concentrating on pouring hot water onto the instant coffee in her mug.
'Why, Charlotte? He's gorgeous. And he's a good doctor.'
True on both counts. Not that she was going to admit it. The last thing she wanted was for Steffie to start matchmaking. 'Whatever,' she drawled.
'Charlotte, just about all the single females in this hospital would be desperate to swap places with you and say yes. Why on earth did you turn him down?'
The truth would involve explanations she didn't want to give. Instead, she said, 'He's too flashy for me. So, now we've cleared that up, can I go back to making my coffee and writing up my notes?'
'You're mad. Utterly mad.' Steffie shook her head.
James, who had been near enough to the open kitchen door to overhear half the conversation, made a swift exit. The last thing he wanted was for Charlotte to find him eavesdropping. Not that it had been intentional.
So Charlotte thought he was too flashy.
OK, so he'd overdone it a bit with the James Bond stuff to help stop Danny feeling nervous. But she'd taken it too seriously. He really wasn't that bad...was he?
But as he left the hospital that night, he had to acknowledge that Charlotte had a point. He might be cycling home, but it wasn't on just any old bicycle. His was a seriously expensive bike, the latest model with a very lightweight carbon composite frame and carbon forks and top-notch components. He was going back to his rented townhouse---which had a sea view and was in the most expensive part of St Piran. And he really did own an Aston Martin...along with several other cars, back in London.
Maybe, he thought, Charlotte had been hurt by an ex who had focused too much on what people earned and not enough on what someone was like inside.
Maybe what he needed to do was find out what made her tick.
And then maybe she'd let him get close enough to prove to her that he wasn't as vain and thoughtless as she clearly believed him to be. And to teach her that just because you had a serious job, it didn't mean that you weren't allowed to have any fun.
ON THURSDAY, Danny's X-ray was completely clear. Charlotte was relieved, because one of the most likely complications with fitting a pacemaker was a pneumothorax, where the chest cavity filled with air. Fixable, admittedly, but painful, and she'd rather that the boy didn't have to go through it. 'It's all fine, so you can go home today,' she told him with a smile. 'And I'll see you next month.'
She and James were both too busy in clinic that day for their paths to cross, but on Friday, just after Daisy was transferred to the children's ward, he sauntered into her office.
'Can I have a word?' he asked.
'Sure. Do you need me to get a file out?'
'No. It's not work exactly.'
James was aware the very second Charlotte put the barrier up: a flicker of wariness in her eyes, followed by a super-bright smile. But he pressed on. 'It's about Tuesday night. The quiz. I'm on the surgeons' team.'
'Uh-huh.'
'And Steffie said the other day that you're head of the cardio team.'
'Yes,' she admitted.
'Then I'd like to make a bet with you. If my team beats yours then you go out to dinner with me.'
'And if mine beats yours,' she said, 'then you leave me alone.'
'Agreed.' He inclined his head. 'That's settled. Have a nice weekend, Charlotte.'
'You, too.'
James strolled out of her office, cool and calm. But inside he was jumping up and down and cheering. Charlotte was bright---very bright---but so was he. And he had no intention of losing. Especially now the stakes were high enough to give him a challenge.
He dropped in to see Jack on Friday night, to have a beer. Jack's father, Nick, had come over to see the children and was apparently helping Alison with bathtime, judging from the fine baritone James could hear floating through the bathroom window.
'So how have you settled in?' Jack asked. 'Sorry I haven't had a chance to catch up with you, but you know what it's like in surgery.'
'Busy, busy, busy,'James said with a grin. 'Which is just how I like it. No, it's fine. And I must say, I'm impressed with your cousin. She's very good at her job.'
'She's brilliant with the kids,' Jack said. 'Works too hard, mind. But she'll pop in and see us and tell a story to Freddie and Sam or sing to Helena.'
For a mad moment, James found himself hoping that she'd drop in to see her cousins that evening. It'd be good to see her outside the hospital environment---and maybe here she might relax with him.
Nick came out, his shirt splotchy with water. 'Jack, Alison could do with a hand with Freddie and Sam while she puts Helena to bed.'
'Of course.' Jack stood up. 'You remember Dad, don't you, James?'
'I do. Good to see you, Nick,' James said, standing up and shaking his hand. The older man was regarding him coolly. No doubt, James thought, he remembered the fact that he used to party with Jack in London.
'James,' Nick said.
An awkward silence stretched between them as Jack went indoors. James was about to break it when Nick said quietly, 'I overheard you talking about Charlotte. Whatever you're thinking about her, forget it: she's not a challenge for you to conquer.'
Jack had always complained that his father was a control freak. 'With all due respect,' James said, politely but coolly, 'that's between me and Charlotte.'
'Apart from the fact that she's my niece and I don't want to see her hurt,' Nick said, 'she's had a rough time in the last couple of years. She doesn't need any hassles.'
'I'm not going to hassle her.'
'I hope not,' Nick said. 'For her sake.'
On Sunday evening, Nick opened the door and frowned. 'Kate? I wasn't expecting to see you.'
'No.' She paused. 'Can I have a word?'
She looked terrible, Nick thought, as if she hadn't slept for days.
'Sure, come in. Can I get you a coffee or something?'
She shook her head. 'Thanks for the offer, but I don't want anything.'
Now he was starting to get really worried. The last time he'd seen Kate look this drawn had been...No. He didn't want to think about that conversation. 'Come and sit down.'He ushered her through to the living room. 'So what can I do for you?'
She dragged in a breath. 'Nick, I...'
To his horror, he could see her eyes glimmering with tears. Oh, hell. He didn't want her to start crying on him. He couldn't cope with that. Last time she'd cried on his shoulder, it had been a huge mistake. For both of them. They'd let the past get in the way and done something so awful that...Well, they'd both paid the price for it. More than paid.
She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. 'Sorry, Nick. I'm not going to cry over you.'
Hell and double hell. Surely he hadn't spoken his thoughts aloud? 'What is it, Kate?'
'I...' She wrapped her arms round herself. 'I need to ask you something. Something important.'
This sounded ominous. Unsure what to say, he just nodded.
'Remember the night of the flood? When you promised you'd try, with Jem?'
And he had. He'd even bought Jem a proper Christmas present. Though then that tourist's comment had caught him on the raw and he'd walked away. Now he could acknowledge just how unfair he'd been. Nick raked a hand through his hair. 'I'm not good with kids. I made a mess of things with my own.'
'Jem is yours,' Kate said tightly.
Hell. He was digging the hole even deeper. 'I meant, my kids with Annabel.'
She shrugged. 'Things are better between you now.'
'But it's still new. I can't...How are they going to feel if they find out I was unfaithful to their mother?'
'They're adults now. They don't see the world in black and white, the way children do. They understand that sometimes people act in ways you wouldn't normally do.'
And how.
'OK, so you were hard on them,' Kate continued, 'but that's the past. You have to draw a line some time. And you're good with your niece.'
'Charlotte?'
There was a hint of bitterness in her smile. 'Well. You would be. She's the spitting image of Annabel, whereas Jem...' She exhaled sharply. 'Sorry. I didn't come here to have a go at you.'
'Then why did you come, Kate?'
She moistened her lips. 'There isn't an easy way to say this.'
She was getting married to Rob? Well, it was obvious that was the way the wind was blowing. He'd heard the rumours. Everyone in Penhally had. And hadn't he seen it for himself, the night he'd gone over to her house? The two of them, kissing in full view. He'd walked away that night, too.
'I've got cancer.'
As the words sank in, Nick's legs gave way and he sat down heavily. 'Did you just say...?' He found he could hardly say the word. 'Cancer?'
She shivered. 'Yes. Breast cancer. I found a lump.'
It was just like learning of Annabel's death all over again. The shock of hearing something so shocking, so appalling, that he couldn't believe it. He forced himself to ask the question. 'Do you know what stage?' Please don't let it be stage four. Or even stage three. Please don't.
'No. Dr Bower...she thinks it's going to be OK with a lumpectomy. But we won't know for sure until...' Her voice faded.
Until Kate was on the table. Yes. He knew that. 'So when do you go in?'
'Monday next week.'
'Monday next week?' He stared at her in disbelief. 'How long have you known?'
'A few days.'
'A few days, and you didn't say anything?'
'Apart from the fact that you're not my GP, I didn't,'she said with quiet dignity, 'think you'd be that interested.'
'Not be...?' He shook his head, trying to clear it. 'Kate, how have we got to this point?'
She looked suddenly old. 'I'm not here to rake up the past. I thought I'd be OK with this. Thought I'd...'
Nick moved then. Sat next to her on the sofa. Held her close. 'It's OK. And now I know, I can pull some strings and---'
'No.' Kate wriggled out of his arms. 'No need, I've sorted it myself.'
'You always did do things your own way.'
Her eyes glittered. 'What was I supposed to do, Nick? If I'd told you about Jem when I first realised...You were happily married to Annabel. It would've wrecked your marriage and devastated her.'
'And it didn't devastate me, finding out the way I did?'
She wrapped her arms round herself again. 'I knew it was a mistake coming to see you.'
'Then why did you come here, Kate?'
'Because,' she said quietly, 'it's occurred to me. I go under the knife next week. God only knows what Dr Bower will find. With luck, she'll have caught it. But if she hasn't...if I'm not going to make it...there's Jem. I need to know that he's going to be all right.' She shivered again. 'I need to know that you'll take care of him. Be his guardian. Take your place as his father.'
'You want me to---'
'I've thought it through, Nick,' she cut in. 'You and I have known each other for years. Worked with each other for years. Been friends for years.'
Friends? They'd hardly been that recently. And he was still so angry with her about Jem. Angry with himself, and taking it out on her, he acknowledged wryly.
'So nobody's going to bat an eyelid about me asking you to be his guardian. You're the obvious person. And,' she said, holding his gaze steadily, 'like it or not, you're his father. If I don't pull through, he's going to need you.'
Nick swallowed hard. 'I need time to---'
'To think about it?' She shook her head. 'You've had months to get used to the idea, Nick. Months to pull your head out of the sand. And now you want more time.'
Her teeth had started to chatter, but when Nick went to put his arms round her again she pulled away. 'The thing is, Nick, I might not have time. Yes, we gave in to our emotions. Took comfort from each other on one of the darkest nights of our lives. But it was years ago, we can't change the past, and don't you think we've paid enough for it? And do you really think it's fair to take it out on Jem?'
'Kate, this is all such a---'
'Just forget it, Nick,' she cut in. 'I should've known that you'd let me down.' She stood up. 'I'll see myself out.'
And, before Nick could say another word, she walked out of the house.
On Monday morning, Charlotte was sorting through her list when James walked into her office. 'I would've knocked, but my hands are full,' he said as she glanced up.
Two paper cups of coffee and a paper bag containing something that smelled gorgeous.
'I'll try not to get crumbs on your desk,'he said, setting them all down on her desk and opening the bag. 'But I'm prepared to share, if you like pain au chocolat.'
She loved it. Though this felt as if James had somehow commandeered her into having breakfast with him. 'You're being a bit smooth for a Monday morning,' she commented.
'Actually, no. I haven't had breakfast yet and this is about the only time I'm going to get to have it. Also, I know you're a lark and I wanted to talk to you about this morning's list.'
'I see.' She paused. 'Well, thank you for the coffee.' The scent of the warm pastries was too much for her, and she took one. 'And the sugar rush.'
He smiled at her. 'Pleasure.' His voice was almost a purr.
Charlotte swallowed hard, willing her libido to behave. 'So, the list.' Talking to him about work was fine. She could do that. Even smile and laugh with him.
And then he leaned forward. Dabbed the tip of his forefinger on the corner of her mouth---and then licked his finger.
It felt almost as if he'd licked her skin, and her heart skipped a beat. She felt her eyes widen and her lips part, though she couldn't get the question out.
As if he'd realised that she wanted to know why he'd done it, he said softly, 'You had chocolate on the corner of your mouth.'
Oh-h-h.
'I just about stopped myself doing what I really wanted to do,' he said, his voice growing husky.
And this time---when she wanted the words to stay back---they spilled out involuntarily. 'What was that?'
Time seemed to stretch. And then he leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth, just where his fingertip had touched her moments before.
If anyone else had tried that, she would've pushed them away.
But with James...she was shocked by how much she wanted to turn her head slightly, allow his mouth closer contact with hers. How much she wanted to slide her fingers into his hair and kiss him back.
She pulled away and dragged in a breath. 'That...'
'Wasn't very professional of me and it shouldn't have happened,' James said.
And then, instead of the 'I'm sorry' she was half expecting, he added, 'Not at work.'
This was her cue to tell him it wasn't going to happen out of work either. Except her mouth was refusing to be sensible and say it.
She was sure he guessed at the turmoil going on in her head, because he said softly, 'I'd better let you get on with your paperwork.'
'Uh-huh.'
But even after he left her office, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop remembering how his mouth had felt against hers. A brief caress, cherishing rather than commanding.
Not like Michael.
But she was trembling. She dragged in a breath, and went through the grounding technique she'd learned and was teaching others---she sat down, held the arms of her chair and set her feet flat on the floor to make herself feel grounded. And then she focused on naming five things she could see. 'Desk, chair, door, window, computer.' Five things to hear, five things she could touch, five scents, five tastes...She went through each in turn, took a deep breath, and finally she felt still and calm inside.
Just as long as she didn't think about James.
On Tuesday, James dropped in casually to Charlotte's office. Considering that even her cousin had said she was too serious, it was time for Charlotte to realise that it was OK to have fun.
Preferably with him.
Which meant she needed to get used to him being around.
Then he noticed the framed photograph on her desk. 'Is that your cat?'
She nodded. 'Pandora.'
The name he'd puzzled over before...and it turned out that Pandora was a cat. He was careful not to let the relief show on his face. 'Nice cat,' he commented. 'What sort is she?'
'A Burmese blue.'
'How long have you had her?'
'Since a couple of weeks after I came to Cornwall.'
He smiled. 'You're determined not to talk to me, aren't you?'
'Don't be ridiculous.'
'You're going to have to talk to me a lot more, you know. When your team loses tonight and you have dinner with me.'
'My team isn't going to lose.'
He laughed. 'Tell me that later tonight.' He blew her a kiss. 'Catch you later.'
Charlotte set the cookies she'd made earlier on the table with the other refreshments. She always enjoyed these evenings, but tonight she was nervous. Because of that stupid bet. She'd better hope that James had a weak spot, because she couldn't back out of it now. And if he won...
She joined her team at the table and tried to chat normally with Steffie and Tim and the others, but she knew the very second that James walked in the door. She couldn't help turning round, and he looked utterly stunning. It was the first time she'd seen him in casual clothes---OK, they were clearly designer jeans and probably cost more than her entire outfit put together, but the faded denims suited him. They clung in all the right places. He'd teamed it with a white shirt, but it was casual rather than the formal ones he wore at work, with an open neck and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked utterly gorgeous, very touchable, and the question slipped insidiously into her head: was James the man who could make her forget the past?
The first three rounds of the quiz were all fairly close, and then it started getting serious. And somehow Charlotte had ended up sitting in a position where she could see James's face. His expression told her that he was playing to win.
Charlotte looked utterly gorgeous in jeans, scoop-necked pastel pink T-shirt and just a hint of lipstick. James was pretty sure she'd changed and got ready in less than five minutes---unlike his previous girlfriends and Sophia, who'd taken almost two hours to get ready, with immaculately coiffed hair and flawless full make-up. With her hair loose, Charlotte looked like the girl next door and he'd just bet she didn't have a clue about just how beautiful she was.
In the first couple of rounds, when she'd been laughing with her team, she'd looked relatively carefree, but he noticed in the break that she looked slightly tense. Because of him?
Maybe he could tease her out of it. 'We're neck and neck, Miss Moneypenny.'
'Don't count your chickens, Bond. There are still five rounds to go.'
Dave from the emergency department came over. 'You know, Charlotte, considering you come down to our place so often to work with us, I reckon you ought to be on our team.'
'Not a chance! She's ours,' Tim declared, draping his arm round her shoulders. 'Hands off.'
Jealousy flickered through James, shocking him. For pity's sake, he knew that Tim was married and Charlotte saw him simply as her colleague. But at the same time he noticed that she was so much more relaxed with Dave and Tim than she was with him---and it rankled.
'I want more cake,' Charlotte said, gently disengaging herself from Tim's hug.
'Ah, now I know the way to you is through your stomach, I'll learn how to make fabulous cakes---and I'll woo you over to my team,' Dave teased.
'In your dreams, Davey-boy,' Charlotte said with a grin.
She'd clearly worked with both of them for a long time and got on well with them, James thought, but she wouldn't let either of them put their arms around her for long. So maybe it wasn't just him.
'Are you enjoying yourself, James?' Lisa asked. 'I know it's probably a far cry from the kind of fundraisers you're used to---we have the Christmas ball, but that's the only really big one.'
'It all adds up, and the important thing about fundraising is to have fun,' James said.
'Oh, I'm all for fun,' Lisa said with a bright smile, flicking her hair back. 'I was wondering...seeing as you're fairly new around here, maybe you'd like me to show you around a bit. Show you where the night life is in St Piran.'
'That's really kind of you to ask me,' he said, smiling at her, 'but, as you say, I'm still finding my feet a bit. I'm not really ready to start seeing anyone.'It wasn't strictly true. If Charlotte had made the same offer, he'd have taken it up in a nanosec-ond---but he didn't see the point in being rude and hurting the younger doctor.
It was still neck and neck between the cardio team and the surgeons when the last round started. And James smiled to himself at the last question: the location of a really obscure island.
He knew exactly where it was.
His father owned it.
And, given the level of muttering around the room, nobody else had a clue where it was.
Which meant that his team was going to win.
Then he remembered what Nick had said. She's not a challenge for you to conquer...She's had a rough time in the last couple of years.
He glanced over at her at almost exactly the moment she glanced at him.
And the worry in her eyes decided him. He'd fib and say he didn't know the answer; the teams would tie, and the bet would be off. Along with all the pressure.
'Don't have a clue,' he said blandly.
But when the answers were read out, he discovered that he'd miscalculated.
It wasn't a draw.
Charlotte's team had won.
There was something fishy about this, Charlotte thought. Although James had looked surprised when her team had won, she'd seen the expression on his face at the last question. He'd known the answer. And yet his team had got the question wrong.
Had he deliberately let her win?
She drew a slip of paper from the old chocolate tin. 'The money goes to the Friends of the Hospital for their Christmas fund.'
'That's brilliant.' Dave took the envelope. 'I'll drop the money in to them tomorrow before I go on duty.'
She said her goodbyes, then hurried after James and laid her hand on his arm. The feel of his bare skin against hers sent a shiver down her spine. 'James, have you got a moment?'
'Of course,' he said politely.
She didn't want this discussion in front of everyone. 'Maybe I can walk you to your car?'
'I came by bike.'
She blinked. 'Motorbike?' She could just imagine him as a bad boy in black leathers. Like the picture of the Australian actor that Steffie kept on the pinboard behind her desk. Shockingly, it made her knees feel weak.
'Pushbike,' James corrected.
'Right.' She walked with him over to the bike shelter. Once she was sure there wasn't an audience, she said softly, 'That last question---you knew the answer.'
'I thought I did. Obviously I got it wrong.'
She shook her head. 'Don't lie to me, James. You deliberately got it wrong so you wouldn't beat me. Why?'
'Honestly?'
She nodded. 'Honestly.'
'That bet I made with you. It wasn't fair. I was bullying you and I was wrong---and, actually, I thought we were level pegging so I threw the question to make us even.'
'Making all bets off.'
He nodded.
'I still don't understand why.'
'I've been involved with someone who didn't want to be involved with me. I'm not going to make that mistake again.'
There was nothing she could say to that without prying. She spread her hands helplessly. 'Thank you.'
'You won,'he said. 'And I made a deal with you. So I'll leave you alone.'
'You miscalculated, and you meant to do the right thing,'she said. 'So I think we'll stick with your original intention. All bets off.'
'A new deal.'
His gaze flickered from her mouth to her eyes and back again. And again. And when she didn't pull away, he bent his head. Brushed his lips very, very gently against hers.
It was like fireworks going off in her head. Fireworks that really shouldn't be there. She wasn't in the market for a relationship, and she wasn't the kind of glamorous woman James normally dated.
And yet...
One more kiss, so sweet and soft and fleeting that she wondered if she'd dreamed it.
'Thank you,' he said. 'That's sealed it. Friends?'
Friends didn't kiss each other like that. Friends didn't look at each other like that.
'Friends,' she said shakily.
'Would I be pushing my luck if I offered to walk you home?'
'James, I'm twenty-eight.'
He smiled wryly. 'You're a grown woman and you can look after yourself. Message received and understood.'He unlocked his bike. 'See you tomorrow.'
When Charlotte got home, she sat on the sofa with her cat draped over her and purring away. What James had said about being involved with someone who didn't want to be involved with him...She had a feeling he was talking about his ex-wife. The paparazzi had shown him as partying away regardless of their marriage breakdown, but maybe that had been as much of a false front as the one she'd learned to put up, something to hide how hurt he really was.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't who she'd thought he was.
THE following morning, James walked onto the cardiology ward.
'Here's our hotshot surgeon,' Steffie teased. 'I thought you said you were going to make us eat crow?' She made the shape of an L on her forehead and laughed. 'Actually, it was pretty close. You gave us a real run for our money---everyone's still buzzing about what a good night it was.'
He wondered if that included Charlotte. 'I enjoyed it, too. And was that lemon cake yours?'
'Yes.'
'If you weren't already married,' he said with a grin, 'I'd think about asking you. Just so I could have cake like that every single day.'
Steffie flapped a dismissive hand. 'Yeah, yeah.'
He smiled. 'By the way, is your team captain around? I wanted a quick word with her about Brianna on my list.'
'Sorry, she's not in today.'
'She's off duty?' Though she hadn't said a word to him about it yesterday.
'Actually, she's off every Wednesday from now on.'
Surprise turned to worry. 'Steffie, I hope I'm not asking out of turn---but is everything all right?'
'It's fine. She's just negotiated different working hours---she spreads her time over four days a week at the hospital instead of five, and on Wednesdays she's working in Penhally, just down the road.'
He knew Penhally. The seaside village where Jack lived. 'What's she doing in Penhally?'
'Her uncle's the senior partner in the GP practice there.'
He knew Nick, too.
'She's doing some sessions at the women's clinic.'
'The women's clinic? Not what I'd expect from a cardiologist.' Strange: it was out of her specialty. Then the penny dropped. 'Of course. With obesity and diabetes on the rise, it makes sense to talk to people about heart health, and drop-in sessions at a GP clinic is a good way to do it---if she's doing the women's clinic, she must be talking to the women on the surgery's obesity register, the diabetics and the postmenopausal women.'
'That's what she thought---she says that preventive medicine is the way forward to relieve pressure on us.'
'Great idea.'
'And then there's her rape crisis centre.'
'Rape crisis centre?' James echoed. Hmm. For Charlotte to change her hours at the hospital so she could work a day a week pro bono...that had to be personal.
'She's a bit cagey on the subject,' Steffie said, 'but I think it happened to someone close to her, a while before she moved to Cornwall. This is her way of doing something to help. Putting something back. That's Charlotte all over.'
He'd met plenty of doctors who'd chosen their specialty because of something personal to them; it was the obvious reason why someone would choose to do something outside their own speciality.
But then something else clicked. Nick had said that Charlotte had been through a rough time. He could've meant that she'd supported a friend through an ordeal and had found it draining; but he could also have meant that Charlotte herself had gone through the ordeal.
And that would explain why Charlotte had gone to the lengths of negotiating different hours at the hospital.
So maybe it hadn't happened to someone close to her. Maybe it had happened to Charlotte herself---not that he could possibly ask her. But it would explain a lot.
And he needed to show her that she could trust him, as well as have fun with him.
On Thursday lunchtime, James was delighted when Charlotte knocked on his office door. She felt comfortable enough to meet him on his territory, then?
'James, I know you have a lecture this afternoon at the university rather than a stint in Theatre, but can I have a really quick word about one of my patients?'
'Sure. Come and sit down.'
'It's Ellis Martyn.'
He flicked through his memory. 'The boy with Ebstein's---you've got his portable recorder readings back?'
'Yep---and I'm not happy.'
He nodded. 'Put me in the picture.'
'He's coming up for thirteen, just finished his first year in high school. He's been complaining of his heart racing and "hiccuping"---he's tired a lot of the time, he's short of breath and he's been having a hard time in PE lessons. His mum says he's just started being a bit blue round the lips, and the GP referred him to me. The X-ray showed his heart's enlarged, the echo showed his tricuspid valve is leaking, and the portable recorder showed episodes of tachycardia.'
'So you're thinking extra pathways?'
'Yes. I can sort that out with ablation, but I'm going to need you to sort the valve.'
'Are the echo and ECG images on the system?' he asked.
'Yes.'
He logged in to the system and pulled them up. 'Mmm, the right atrium is really enlarged, and I can see here the tricuspid valve needs repair. When are you seeing him next?'
'Tomorrow morning.'
'OK. Let me know what time, and I'll come and talk to him and his parents.'
'Just his mum, Judy,' she said. 'His dad works in London during the week.'
'Ouch. That's tough on her.'
To Charlotte's relief, James was as good as his word and came in to see the Martyns the next morning.
'Thanks for dropping off the recorder yesterday,' Charlotte said to Judy. 'It's picked up several of the episodes where your heart was beating too fast, Ellis, and I've asked Mr Alexander to join us this morning---he's our specialist cardiac surgeon.'
'So Ellis needs surgery?' Judy asked.
'We both think so, yes.' She introduced James swiftly to them---and noticed that he had his James Bond watch on again. But instead of looking excited, the way Danny had, Ellis looked wary.
'Surgeons have this bad habit of needing flashy stuff,' she said to Ellis with a smile, 'but I happen to know that this one works very hard and is really good at his job. So ignore anything he says about being like James Bond.'
'Busted,' James said with a smile. 'Ellis, there's a valve in your heart called the tricuspid valve---it's called that because it has three flaps, pretty much the same way a triceratops got its name---'
'Because it has three horns,' Ellis chipped in.
'Spot on.' James smiled at the boy. 'In your case, two of the flaps are stuck to the wall of the heart, where they shouldn't be, so the valve can't do its job properly.'
'Charlotte told me it leaked when it shouldn't, so the deoxygenated blood goes into my body instead of into my lungs,' Ellis continued.
James was pretty sure that Charlotte had explained it in simpler terms, but clearly the boy was comfortable with scientific terms and had probably looked up his condition on the Internet. 'It's good that you know all that---it saves me banging on and repeating it all for you. Though I also know it's a lot to take in, so Charlotte and I are both more than happy to answer any questions you might have.'
'Is there no alternative to surgery?' Judy asked.
'I know it's worrying for you,' James said gently, 'and, yes, I'll be frank with you, there are always risks with surgery under a general anaesthetic. But if you leave it he's going to need surgery in the future and he might need a complete heart transplant, whereas now I can repair the tricuspid valve and it's not such a huge operation to get over. It's also better to do it when he's younger than to leave it until he's an adult---there are less likely to be any complications in surgery.'
'So when do I have to have it done?' Ellis asked.
'I have a slot free Monday morning,' James said.
'Monday? That quickly?' Judy looked shocked. 'But I thought people had to wait months for an operation?' She clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. 'Does this mean it's really serious?'
James, seeing the anguish in the woman's face said, 'All it means is that I have a slot free on Monday morning. I was lecturing, but my session has been moved, and because I knew I was going to see you with Charlotte this morning I've already checked out the bed and Theatre situation. We're in luck, so that's why it's free.'
'Ellis's condition is serious and it's rare,' Charlotte added, 'but it's also fixable and he'll go on to live a perfectly normal life.'
'Monday,' Ellis said.
'You don't have to decide right now,'James said. 'Take your time. But it's good timing for you because it means you'll have most of the summer holidays to recover from the operation and get fit for school again ready for the new term, though you might miss the first week or so. The good news is that it will make a huge difference to you---you won't feel tired all the time and you won't get breathless in PE.'
'I hate PE,' Ellis said.
'It'll be a lot easier for you when you're heart's working properly,' James reassured him. 'You might find it's not so bad then.'
'Will the operation stop my heart racing?' Ellis asked.
'No, because that's not caused by the valve,' Charlotte said. 'It's all because of some extra electrical pathways in your heart---they give an extra impulse to make your heart beat when it shouldn't. Don't worry, it's really common and we can sort it out during surgery---or if you decide you don't want to have surgery yet, I can sort that out for you in our cath lab as a day patient. You'll be able to go home the same day I've done it.'
'So how does the cath lab work?' Judy asked.
'What I'll do is put a special probe to Ellis's heart to where the extra pathways are, and then send a radio signal down to stop the pathways sending the signals.' She smiled at Ellis. 'It's very similar to the way microwave heat works, so you can gross out all your mates by telling them I'm going to microwave your heart.'
Ellis brightened at that, and then looked worried. 'Will it hurt?'
'No, because I'll give you a special local anaesthetic called sedation. It won't hurt, but you might be a little bit uncomfortable afterwards. The sedation means you won't remember much of what I do, but your mum can stay with you if she likes.'
'Microwave and sliced,' Ellis said thoughtfully.
James smiled. 'Or I can just do the slicing and sort out the pathways for you at the same time.'
'You're not going to microwave me?'
'Nope. They used to do it by surgery, but there's an even better way now---something called cryoablation.' He deliberately used the technical term, knowing that the boy would like it---if necessary, he'd explain it in layman's terms, but his guess was that Ellis would work it out.
'Cryo...' Ellis thought for a moment. 'What, freezing?'
'Exactly.'
'So I'll be freezed and sliced.' Ellis looked at his mother. 'I think I've just decided to become a vegetarian.'
Judy ruffled his hair. 'Whatever you want, love. It's up to you.'
'If I don't have surgery, I'm still going to be ill.' He took a deep breath. 'Will I have to come back to hospital a lot afterwards?'
'You'll be able to live a completely normal life,' James said.
'Though you will come back for regular check-ups,' Charlotte added, 'and you'll be able to ring me any time you're worried.'
'Can we have some time to think about it?' Judy asked.
'As much time as you need,' James said. 'I can give you a leaflet about the procedure if that'll help you, and you can come back and ask me questions when you've had a chance to read it.'
'Thank you,' Judy said.
'May I?' He gestured to the computer next to Charlotte.
'Sure.'
He logged her out, tapped in his password, scrolled quickly through some files and then printed off a leaflet and gave it to the Martyns. 'That should tell you everything to expect, but I know you'll have questions and I'm more than happy to answer them, when you're ready.'
'Go and have a walk or something to eat,' Charlotte said. 'The café here is good. Come back and see us...' She looked at James for an idea of timing.
'I'll be at the hospital for the next hour,'James said, 'but then I'll be lecturing until the middle of the afternoon. But if not now, we can talk on Monday. The operation doesn't have to be Monday morning---we can schedule it later, if that's better for you.'
'Thank you,' Ellis said.
'I appreciate this,'Charlotte said when the Martyns had left.
'No problem. That's what teamwork's all about,'James said softly.
'Teamwork.'
'We're a good team.' He paused. 'And I think we'd make a good team outside work.'
'We agreed that we'll be friends.'
'Absolutely.' He looked her straight in the eye. 'But I didn't say anything about excluding any other kind of relationship. And, actually, I'd rather date someone I happen to like and trust and respect.'
'Like and trust and respect,' she echoed, looking dazed.
He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. 'As well as fancying the pants off.' He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind her ear, then left her office before she could gather her wits enough to make a smart retort.
And he was faintly disappointed that when he got back after his lecture there was a brief and very professional email from her in his inbox, telling her that the Martyns had decided in favour of the operation.
She was clearly avoiding him.
Running scared.
Maybe he should take it just a little slower. Maybe. But he certainly wasn't going to give up.
On Saturday afternoon, Charlotte was sitting drinking coffee at Nick's house, chatting, when James's name came up.
'Is he bothering you?' Nick asked. 'If he is, I'll have another word with him.'
'Another?' She was horrified that Nick had had a word with him already. Especially as James hadn't mentioned it to her.
'Or I'll get Jack to do it, if you'd rather,' Nick offered.
'No, it's fine. Nick, I know you mean well, and it's lovely that you're being so protective, but...' She sighed. 'I'm not going to be rude and tell you not to interfere. Thank you for thinking of me, but I can handle this myself---really, I can.'
Nick gave her an appraising look. 'So you like him?'
She really wasn't prepared to talk about her feelings for James yet. She still needed to sort them out in her head. 'I'm happy as I am. I love my work and don't want that to change. And even if I was interested in James, which I'm not.' Ha, who was she trying to kid? She couldn't stop thinking about him. 'I'm not sure I could handle all the celebrity stuff that goes with him.' She'd hated the idea of her photograph being in the press and people gossiping about her; she'd been seriously relieved when the picture from the pub hadn't turned up anywhere.
'Why don't you have a word with Melinda?' Nick suggested.
Charlotte remembered all the headlines, the previous year, when Melinda had been outed as the future ruler of Contarini; the press had absolutely hounded her. It was all much quieter now and Melinda was plain Mrs Lovak, the local vet, but she was sure that Melinda didn't want to be reminded of all that stuff again. 'It's not fair to intrude like that.'
'Trust me, Dragan used to be even more wary of people than you are, before Melinda came along---and if you want an excuse to talk to her, you can always go and tell her how Pandora's doing. You know she loves hearing how her rescue cases are getting on. And their dog's expecting puppies, so she might try and talk you into giving one a good home.'
'Puppies...I'll bear that in mind.' Charlotte looked at her uncle. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes. 'Nick, it's my turn to interfere now. You look as if you haven't slept properly for a couple of weeks.'
He flapped a dismissive hand. 'It's the surgery. Dragan's cut his hours, Adam and Maggie are leaving at the end of next month, and even though we've got Polly on board now, it's still not enough to cover all the work.'
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. 'Nick, that's not the sort of thing you worry about. You just sort things. Annabel always said you were really good at organising things. It's more than that, isn't it?'
Nick's face tightened. 'I don't want to discuss it. Look, I need to be somewhere. Go and see Melinda about the pups.'
Charlotte, knowing that once her uncle had clammed up it was impossible to get him to talk, gave in. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Well, thanks for the coffee. Try and get some sleep, and stop overdoing it.'
Nick made no comment.
'And, Nick?' When he looked up, Charlotte added softly, 'You were there for me when I needed you. So I hope you know that it's the same for you. If you do decide you want to talk, I'll listen without judging, and I won't go and blab to anyone else.'
For a moment, she thought she saw tears in her uncle's eyes, but it must have been a trick of the light. Nick never cried. 'Thanks,' he said gruffly.
He wasn't going to tell her any more, she knew, so she headed off to see Melinda and Dragan.
'Charlotte!' Melinda greeted her warmly. 'Lovely to see you, cara. We're in the back garden. Come through. How's Pandora?'
'She's doing fine.' Charlotte showed Melinda the latest pictures on her mobile phone.
'Pwetty tat,' Alessandro announced, climbing onto Charlotte's lap and peering at the screen before wriggling down again and joining the flatcoat retriever in the paddling pool.
'I'm really not sure Bramble should be in the pool,' Dragan said, looking concerned.
Melinda rolled her eyes. 'Stop fussing, zlato. Honestly, Charlotte, he's nearly as bad as he was when I was expecting Alessandro. Dragan, Bramble will be fine. A flattie's idea of heaven is a paddling pool and a tennis ball, and someone who doesn't mind getting wet too.'
Little Alessandro, who was the image of his father, except he had Melinda's golden hair and curls.
'I know that, and I wouldn't mind, but---'
'She's expecting her first litter next month,' Melinda said.
'Nick told me---and also that you were looking for good homes.'
'Ah, so you're offering one. Bene.' Melinda laughed. 'You can guarantee Dragan's going to want to be there through every step and he'll be terrible when she has the pups.'
'There's nothing wrong with the fact that I love my dog and I worry about her,' Dragan protested. 'It's a big thing, having babies.'
'I'm going to have to switch my phone off when she starts labour, or you'll be calling me every ten minutes, just as you did when I was close to having Alessandro.'
'Every ten minutes,' Dragan said thoughtfully. 'Between patients. Mmm, sounds about right.'
'Dragan Lovak, you're impossible.' Melinda smiled. 'But I love you.'
He kissed her lightly. 'Volim te. I love you, too.'
Charlotte saw the tenderness in his face. He was clearly so much in love with his wife. And the way he looked at her...It was how she'd once wanted someone to look at her.
Funny how James's face was so clear in her mind's eye.
Dragan's phone beeped; he answered the call, then moved away slightly before ending it and coming back over to them. 'I'm needed. Sorry, carissima,' he said to Melinda.
'Hey, I knew you were on call today. It's not a problem.'
He kissed her and Alessandro goodbye, and shook Charlotte's hand. 'See you at the surgery on Wednesday, if you're not here when I get back.'
'Sure.'
When Dragan had gone, Melinda made them all a cold drink. 'All right, now you can tell me what's really wrong.'
'Nothing's wrong,' Charlotte said.
Melinda raised an eyebrow. 'It's lovely to see how Pandora's doing, but that isn't why you came, is it?'
Charlotte sighed. 'It's a bit awkward.'
'Tell me anyway.'
Charlotte bit her lip. 'I apologise in advance...but you're the only one I know who's had to deal with the press.'
'You're having problems with the press?'
'Um...sort of. Someone I know who gets followed by the press. We were having dinner together, just as friends, and we were photographed. It didn't bother him.'
'But it bothered you?'
Charlotte nodded.
'You do get used to it,' Melinda said. 'And dealing with press isn't so bad. You just keep saying "No comment", and scope places out in advance so you know the back way out.'
Just how James had dealt with it---sneaking her out to the taxi driver. 'And it's that easy?'
'Well...not easy, perhaps,' Melinda admitted. 'When the story broke about us, Dragan found the paparazzi thing hard. But if he's worth it you'll find a way round it.'
'That's the point. I didn't intend to date anyone.'
'But he's different?' Melinda guessed.
'I can't get him out of my head,' Charlotte confessed. 'Even when I try private visualisation techniques, he's suddenly there with me---it's meant to be just me on this deserted beach, and suddenly he's there, holding my hand.'
'Maybe you need to give him a chance, cara.' Melinda gave her a hug. 'I know you don't talk about things---just like my Dragan---but sometimes it can help.'
'Maybe.' Charlotte gave her a wry smile. 'I really ought to be going.'
'Come back and see the puppies.'
'I will.'
'And maybe bring your man with you. How he is with children and animals...that's a good way to tell someone's character.'
'He's brilliant with kids, actually---he charms them, but doesn't talk down to them.'
'Then I'd say half your battle's won. Does he like animals?'
Charlotte spread her hands. 'I have no idea.'
'There's only one way to find out,' Melinda said sagely.
On Saturday evening, when the boys were still playing in the garden, Rob curled up with Kate on the sofa. 'I was thinking,' Rob said. 'I'd like you to come and stay with us when you're out of hospital. It means you can rest whenever you need to and not worry about Jem, because he'll be with me and Matt, and I'll be happier because I'll know you're not overdoing it.'
Kate shivered. If only Nick had responded to her like this. If only Nick had been the kind of man she could lean on. She'd loved him for so many years, and yet he'd let her down time and time again. Whereas Rob was a man with a big heart, a man who cared about her and about Jem, in a way Nick never could.
She knew she was lucky to have him. He was good for her, and she intended to be good for him, too. Unable to speak, she just held him tightly.
Rob stroked her hair. 'Of course you're worried. You wouldn't be human if you weren't. But you know what the doctor said. I was with you. The chances are, they've caught it early enough.'
'I know.' She swallowed hard. 'And it's a hell of a choice to make, Rob. Lose my breast and know there wasn't any tissue left for the cancer to get into, but also not be able to use my arm properly for months and months; or have the lumpectomy so it'll be less of a problem, but I'll need radiotherapy every day for five weeks, which is going to make me knackered.'
'Damned if you do, damned if you don't.' He brushed a kiss against her mouth. 'Whatever happens, Kate, I'll be there for you. And, just for the record, if you do have a mastectomy, you won't be any less of a woman to me.'
The backs of Kate's eyelids pricked with tears. It had been one of the things running through her head. How she'd feel less of a woman. How she wouldn't be able to wear pretty, low-cut tops any more---and even after reconstructive surgery she'd be wary of anyone seeing her body again.
'I love you, Kate Althorp. And you'll always be beautiful to me,' Rob said softly.
Kate couldn't speak for the tears clogging her throat.
'And if you need radiotherapy, remember it's the school holidays, so I've got time off. I can drive you to St Piran's for the treatment, and the boys and I will have some serious competitions on their games consoles while w're Ewaiting for you. And then you can rest when we get home, while I take them out to burn off some steam.'
'Oh, Rob. I can't ask you to do that much for me.'
'You're not asking,' he said simply. 'I'm offering.'
An offer that Jem's father hadn't made. An offer that Jem's father hadn't even considered making. Total support.
'I like Jem,' Rob continued. 'He's a good kid, he's a good friend to my Matthew, and Matt and I both like having him around.'
A tear leaked out before she could blink it back. Rob wiped it away tenderly with the pad of his thumb. 'You're not alone, Kate. You've got Jem, you've got me and you've got Matt. And we'll get through this.'
'What if...?' she whispered.
'It won't come to that,' Rob said firmly. 'But, if it does, Jem will always have a home with me. And I'll tell him every day what a wonderful woman his mother is.'
She swallowed hard. 'I don't deserve you.'
'Yes, you do.'
'And, Rob...it's lovely of you to offer me somewhere to stay, but---I feel terrible saying this, when you've been so good to me. It's just...I'd rather go back to my own home, have my own things around me.'
'Of course you would. I wasn't thinking.' He smiled at her. 'Then how about Matt and I come and stay with you? Same deal, just your place instead of mine.'
Rob was prepared to move in with her? 'The cottage only has two bedrooms.'
He stroked her face. 'Matt can use a sleeping bag and camp out in Jem's room, or if the weather's good they can have a tent in the back garden---they'll love it. And I'm not going to push myself on you, love. I'll sleep on the sofa or use a sleeping bag myself.'
She rested against him. 'Sorry, Rob, I'm making a fuss over nothing. Of course you don't have to sleep on the sofa. My bed's big enough.'
'I know I'm being pushy, but I want to be there for you, Kate. Because I love you.'
'I love you, too,' Kate said, and hated herself for the insidious thought that she didn't love him with the same grand passion she'd once had for Nick.
But she was older now.
Wiser.
With Rob, she'd have a love that would last. The kind of love she'd never be able to have with Nick, because he just wasn't capable of it.
To say yes to him now would be the best thing she could do---for all of them. 'Thank you, Rob.'
'So that's a yes?'
She nodded. 'That's a yes.'
ON MONDAY, Charlotte agreed to sit in on Ellis's operation. And it was a real revelation to her: she was impressed by the way James worked---his organisation and the deftness of his hands. She couldn't help thinking of those hands holding hers. Touching her. Coaxing a response from her. Turning her to flame.
He would be gentle with her, she knew; he couldn't do such intricate work if he wasn't gentle. And the way he'd touched her, kissed her so far, he'd been gentle. He wouldn't push her too far, too fast.
She couldn't resist teasing him a tiny bit afterwards. 'So you dress like everyone else, then? I'm surprised you haven't had some designer scrubs made.'
'What, with pictures of Mars all over it, to match my ego?' he shot back.
She grinned. 'Or should we make that Jupiter after all?'
'Very funny.' He frowned. 'I'm not that flashy.'
'Yes, you are. Do you possess any clothes that aren't designer?'
When he didn't answer, she said, 'QED. That proves my case, I think.'
He sighed. 'Look, it's how I was brought up. With a mum who was a supermodel and a dad who owns an international leisure business, what do you expect?'
She winced. 'Sorry, James.' And it was a genuine apology. 'I really didn't mean to stamp on a sore spot.'
'It's not that sore---but if you feel guilty, that's good. You can always buy me a coffee to make up for it, after we've seen Judy and told her the good news.'
'Black, no sugar, right?'
James was pleased that she remembered. And even more pleased when, after they'd seen Judy, she suggested they make it lunch rather than coffee.
'So how's the cat---Pandora, yes?'
'She's fine.' To James's pleasure, Charlotte actually opened up to him. 'Pandora used to belong to an old lady in the outskirts of Penhally. The neighbours were worried one day when they saw milk bottles on the doorstep and couldn't get an answer from her. They thought she might have been taken ill, and they couldn't get hold of her daughter to get the spare key, so they broke the door down. It terrified Pandora; when she ran outside, they chased her and shouted because they were scared that she'd run into the road and be hit by a car, but all the noise frightened her even more and she ran away.'
'Poor cat,' James said.
'Eventually, she came back and the neighbours took her to Melinda, the vet in Penhally, knowing she'd find the cat a temporary home.' She wrinkled her nose. 'Melinda looked after Pandora herself, as she thought it would only be couple of days until Mrs Parker came out of hospital. But sadly Mrs Parker died. I was on duty at the time and had to get in touch with her GP, Dragan Lovak. I didn't realise it, but he was seeing Melinda and obviously he put her in the picture. It must've come up at practice meeting, too, because Nick knew I used to have a Burmese blue when I was little. He rang me and asked if I would take her on.'
'And you did.'
She nodded. 'Pandora's still a bit nervous of men, especially if they have a loud voice, but she's settled in pretty well with me.' She looked at him. 'How about you? Did you ever have a cat?'
'I've never really had that much to do with animals,' he said. 'I always wanted a dog when I was a kid, but because Mum was always jetting off on photo-shoots and Dad was busy with his hotel chain, I went to boarding school. I used to talk my housemaster into letting me walk his dog and pretended she was mine.' He was surprised to find himself telling her things he'd never told anyone, even Sophia. But, then, there was something about Charlotte that made him feel it was safe to talk---that she wouldn't laugh at him if he told her something important to him, and she wouldn't tell anyone else either.
'Every Christmas I used to write my letter to Santa and ask for a black puppy with a shiny nose called Dylan, who'd sleep on my bed and be my best friend,' he said wistfully. 'Of course, it never happened. But maybe one day. When I'm settled.' And the way things were going, he was beginning to think that Jack Tremayne had made the right choice. This little corner of Cornwall was the perfect place to settle.
At the end of lunch, he said softly, 'Thank you.'
Charlotte looked surprised. 'What for?'
'Giving me a chance.'
'I enjoyed it, too,' she said.
'Maybe we can do this again some time.'
'I'd like that.'
He knew he was probably pushing it, but he asked anyway. 'How about tomorrow?'
She paused, as if weighing it up, and then she nodded. 'Tomorrow.'
'Great.' He scanned the corridor quickly. Deserted. Perfect. He leaned forward, cupped her face with one hand and kissed her lightly. He half expected her to take a step back, and then she really surprised him, by resting her fingers against his cheek and kissing him back.
A tiny kiss.
Nothing that would warrant catcalls from a passing colleague.
But it made James wanted to punch the air and yell in triumph.
He didn't, not wanting to lose the ground he'd already gained. Instead, he made a huge effort to sound calm and serene. 'Tomorrow. I'll look forward to it.'
Kate opened her eyes, feeling as if she'd just gone ten rounds with a boxer. Dr Bower was sitting next to her, checking a chart. 'Hello,' she said with a smile. 'Good to see you're back with us.'
'How did it go?' Kate croaked.
'I've done a wide excision. I'm pretty sure we've got it all and the radiotherapy will sort out anything that's thinking about lurking. Obviously I'll know more in a few days, but in the meantime try not to worry.'
Kate lay back against the bed and closed her eyes. Her overwhelming thought was that she still had a long way to go, but she was on the right road now. She would be there to see Jem grow up. She could feel hot tears of relief leaking out. 'Thank you,' she whispered.
'I'm going to stay here with you for a few more minutes until you're properly awake, and then your family can see you. They've been waiting outside, looking pretty anxious. I'll go and tell them you're awake.' Dr Bower smiled at her again. 'And I'll let you tell them the good news.'
Over the next couple of days, Kate had plenty of visitors. Polly dropped in every day, and Rob brought Jem and Matt to see her.
'Rob took us out on the bikes and to the beach---Mum, wait till you're better and we'll take you,' Jem said excitedly.
Kate summoned a smile despite her tiredness. 'I'd like that, love.'
'And you'll be home in a couple of days. I can't wait! Rob's going to put up a tent in our back garden so me and Matt can camp out. He's going to teach us how to make a proper camp fire and everything. It's going to be so cool---just w're Enot going to eat bugs like the celebrities do in the jungle, w're Egoing to cook sausages and burgers,' Jem informed her.
Kate couldn't help laughing.
But then suddenly everyone went quiet and she looked up to see Nick at the foot of her bed, with a huge bunch of flowers.
And there was a distinctly territorial glance between the two men.
'Uncle Nick.' Jem regarded him warily.
'Hello, Jem.' Nick gave him a tight smile, and nodded to the others. 'Rob. Matthew.'
Rob looked at Kate, clearly wanting to know if she'd prefer him to stay or go. She gave him the tiniest nod, to let him know that she was fine and she could deal with this.
'Come on, guys. Let's go and get a drink and give Kate a bit of a break,' Rob said, standing up ready to shepherd the boys out of Kate's cubicle.
'No, it's all right. I won't stay long,' Nick said. 'I just brought you these from the practice, Kate.'
Oh. So the flowers weren't just from him, then. Kate's breathing stilled for a moment. Surely Nick, knowing that Polly was visiting every day, would've sent them in with her to save himself the trip to St Piran?
But it was stupid of her to think he'd do anything different.
And he'd made no move towards Jem. Just that tight little smile. Unlike Rob, who'd given Jem plenty of hugs and was looking after the boy as if he were his own.
'Thank you,' she said.
'How are you feeling?'
How do you think I'm feeling? she wanted to yell. But she mustered up a smile. 'I'm doing OK. Rob's been brilliant.'
That one definitely hit home. To the outside world, Nick Tremayne looked the way he always did. But Kate knew him well enough to be able to read his eyes. A flash of guilt, there, that he'd left someone else to do his job. Supporting Jem.
'Good, good.' Nick shuffled awkwardly. 'Well, it was just a fleeting visit. I know you'll be tired and I don't want to...intrude.'
Kate knew she ought to be nice. Tell him it was fine. But after the way he'd let Jem down---and her---repeatedly, she didn't think he deserved to be let off the hook. 'Thanks for coming in. Give my love to everyone at the practice.' She refrained from adding that Polly had probably already done so.
'When are you coming out?'
'Tomorrow morning,' she said.
'I, um, might call in and see how you're doing, then.'
What did he expect? That she'd be overflowing with gratitude? 'If you have time,' she said. 'I know how busy things are.'
'Right. Well, look after yourself.' He stood there, holding the flowers. 'I'd better find a vase, or something.'
'I'll do that,' Rob said quietly, and held out his hand.
Kate noticed the look between them. And she also noticed that Nick was the first to look away, and simply gave the flowers to Rob.
James and Charlotte grew closer over the next few days. To his pleasure, she actually had lunch with him twice more. They talked mainly about work, but at least she was spending time with him. And James knew he wouldn't have traded a bacon roll and a mug of tea in the hospital canteen for the kind of fivecourse dinner and vintage Chateau Lafite in a Michelin-starred restaurant he'd shared with Sophia.
If anyone asked her, he was pretty sure she'd deny that they were dating. And technically they weren't: they were having a case conference during lunch.
But---and it was a big but---she didn't pull away when his foot rested against hers under the table, or when his fingers brushed against hers. Or when he kissed her goodbye in the corridor. Little by little, she was letting him closer.
It was enough to give him the confidence to try the next stage in his plan to show her that life could be fun.
'What do you think of the tie?' he asked in the middle of their next case conference.
'A teddy bear with a stethoscope?' She considered it. 'You'll have all the littlies smiling.'
It wasn't the littlies he wanted to make smile. It was her. 'Good. Something else I wanted to try out...Oh, what's that behind your ear, Dr Walker?'
'My ear?' She put her hand up to her head. 'There isn't anything.'
'Yes, there is. Say the magic word.' When she looked at him in puzzlement, he prompted, 'Abraca...?'
'Dabra,' she finished, rolling her eyes.
He grinned, held both palms up to prove his hands were empty, then reached behind her ear and produced a small gold box.
'How did you do that?' she asked.
'Magic.'
'Magic doesn't exist.'
Oh, yes, it did. 'Sleight of hand,' he said.
'Do that to your patients, and they'll adore you.'
He wanted her to adore him. 'Don't you want to know what's in the box?'
'No.'
'Don't tell fibs.' He dabbed his finger on the tip of her nose. 'You know what happened to Pinocchio.'
'You're saying I have a big nose?'
'No.' She had a beautiful nose. 'C'mon, Charlotte, you know you're itching to know what's in the box.'
'More like, you're itching to tell me,' she said dryly. But at least she was smiling. 'All right. I'll play. What's in the box, James?'
'Close your eyes.'
She looked wary. 'Why?'
'Because I asked you to. And you trust me, don't you?'
'Ye-es.'
'Close your eyes,' he said softly.
She did.
'Open your mouth.'
She opened her eyes instead. 'James, I'm not comfortable with this.'
'Trust me.' He looked intently at her. 'If you're worrying that I'm going to leap on you and kiss you, rest assured that I'm not.'
Something he didn't quite understand flickered in her eyes. 'You don't want to kiss me.'
It was a statement rather than a question. And delivered so flatly that he couldn't even begin to guess what she was thinking.
'Of course I want to kiss you. Oh, what the hell.' He dropped the box on her desk and took both her hands in his, drawing them up to his mouth. 'I know you're a very private person, so I'm not going to push you to explain why you're so wary of me. But I like you, and I think you like me, and for your information I've been having X-rated dreams about you for the last week.'
Colour stained her cheeks. 'James, I...'
Too far. Too fast. He knew he needed to reassure her. 'So, yes, Charlotte, I'd like to kiss you. Properly. Except w're Ein your office, and I know you'd hate it if anyone came in and caught us.'
She nodded.
'And that is the reason why I'm not planning to kiss you right this second.' His gaze held hers. 'Though rest assured that I'm going to kiss you properly. When you're ready and when it's the right time.'
He knew he'd said the right thing when she stopped holding her breath.
And he also knew that he needed to bring the subject back to work, so she'd believe that he was sincere about not rushing her. 'Now stop talking, close your eyes and open your mouth, because I'm due in Theatre in five minutes and I haven't got time to mess about.'
As he'd hoped, the mention of work calmed her down, and she followed his instructions. He opened the box, withdrew the chocolate and slid it into her mouth.
Her eyes opened and she stared at him. As she ate the chocolate, the wariness in her face melted. 'I wasn't expecting that,' she said when she'd finished.
'I know.' He grinned. 'Did you like it?'
She nodded.
'It's called "having fun",' he said softly. 'Work's important. But it's also important to play.' He brushed his mouth lightly against hers, the way he usually did after lunch. 'I'm off to Theatre. See you later.'
Charlotte watched him leave, pressing her fingertips against her mouth as she remembered what he said---and wondering.
What would it be like when James Alexander kissed her properly?
'You know,' Steffie said thoughtfully on Monday morning, 'I haven't seen you this smiley and relaxed before. A proper smile that goes all the way through you.'
'Don't be daft,' Charlotte said. 'Course you have.'
'Hmm.' Steffie didn't sound convinced. 'Well, there's something different about you. You seem...happier.'
Because she and James were---well, not seeing each other officially, but they were more than just friends.
Not that she was ready yet to admit it to anyone else.
'I enjoy my job, I love working with you lot, and the centre's about to open officially. Of course I'm happy,' Charlotte said.
Though Steffie had a point. She could feel herself smiling more often. And she knew why: simply because James was around. There was something about him that made her want to smile. For all the right reasons.
On Tuesday afternoon, James said to Charlotte, 'So you're not in tomorrow.'
'No.' She paused. 'Actually, the hospital trust has been really good. They've let me reschedule my hours and my patients don't miss out because my afternoon clinics start half an hour earlier and last for an hour longer, I do my ward rounds an hour later and then I do my admin.' She looked levelly at him. 'Knowing the hospital grapevine, I imagine you've already heard what I do on Wednesdays.'
'Something to do with a rape crisis centre.'
'Advice and counselling. I've been really lucky because Nick's letting me use a room at his practice. In return I do the odd heart health session in their well-woman clinic, and I've said if they want me to check anyone out while I'm there, that's absolutely fine.'
'That's pretty selfless of you.'
'It's the point of medicine,' Charlotte said. 'Giving something back and making people feel better.'
'True.'
'And I want to make a difference.'
He nodded. 'Well, obviously I'm not the right person to man a helpline or what have you---but if there's anything I can do to help, give me a shout.'
'Actually, I was thinking about sorting out a promise auction or something like that to raise funds---then we can train volunteers on the helpline and pay counsellors. The centre's all about being a free service.'
'Count me in to donate a promise, then. And if you want a hand organising it, I'm pretty good at that.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'You're good at organising?'
'My parents excel at organisation---and I think it's in my genes as well,' he said with a shrug.
'So you'd help with the centre?'
'I respect what you're doing and I respect you so, yes, I'd like to help.'
She gave him the sweetest smile. 'Thank you. I might just take you up on that.'
On Wednesday, Charlotte took a call that broke her heart. A young girl who'd gone through exactly the same thing that she had. Though Libby hadn't reported it at the time, thinking nobody would believe her, she'd been feeling worse and worse and worse. And she'd been at the point of doing something stupid when she'd seen an article about the centre.
Charlotte stayed talking to her for a long, long time. Listened. Made no judgements, just gave suggestions and advice about how to start the long journey back to feeling safe again.
And when she'd persuaded Libby to come and see a counsellor, she knew that the young girl wasn't the only one who'd taken a step on the road to recovery. She, too, was starting to heal properly.
On Friday, James perched on Charlotte's desk with a broad smile. 'I've had the most brilliant idea.'
'What sort of brilliant idea?'
'You know the quiz nights---we have ten teams, right?'
'Ye-es.'
'Well, I was thinking, maybe we could do something a bit different. Something I did in London that made a ton of money for the hospital.'
'Flashy stuff?' she asked wryly.
He sighed. 'Yes, I like glitz and glamour---and there's nothing wrong with liking a bit of flashy stuff, before you start nagging---but I also enjoy taking the chance to raise the profile of a good cause. I used to help raise a lot of money for the hospital in London, and I'd like to do that here, too.'
She could see that he was being sincere. 'So what did you have in mind?'
'A ball---say, in a month from now. We can raise money from ticket sales, and we'll run a tombola on the night.' His eyes sparkled. 'It'll be a ball with a difference---dinner, and then a dance competition. Ten pairs of dancers---one from each department, and the winning couple can choose where the money goes.'
As he spoke, Charlotte grew colder and colder. 'A dance.'
'What do you think? Will you help me organise it?'
Her last date had been a dance. With Michael. A night that had turned out to be the worst night of her life.
But she really didn't want to tell James about that. She didn't want to see pity or revulsion on his face. This thing between them was so new, so fragile, she didn't want to spoil that. Besides, she would be organising a ball, not actually dancing, so she could cope with it. And maybe facing it would help her overcome the last few hurdles.
'Charlotte?' he asked.
'Sorry, wool-gathering.' She nodded. 'All right, I'll help you.'
'Good. So w're Eon the same team this time.'
'I suppose so.'
He smiled. 'Excellent. So, do you know how to dance?'
'Dance?' He couldn't be serious. A sick feeling rose in her stomach.
'It's a ball. People dance at them.'
'But I won't have time to dance. I'm helping you organise it.'
'Mmm-hmm, but we can hand over the reins for five minutes while we dance---because I think we should be one of the teams. A cardio-surgery mix.'
He planned to dance...with her? Sickness turned to panic. 'No. Look, James, I don't dance.'
He spread his hands. 'Don't worry, I can teach you---I spent too much of my misspent youth dancing.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Being flashy, you might say.'
She dug her nails into her palms underneath her desk, out of his sight. 'I can't do it, James.'
He really hadn't expected her to balk at this. Or to say she wasn't capable of doing something. The woman he'd come to know was quiet, yes, but she was hardworking and she didn't mess about. She simply got things done. 'Of course you can do it---besides, you're not on your own. W're Ea team. W're Ea good team at work, aren't we?'
'Ye-es.'
'So we'll be a good dance team, too. Trust me.'
'You're a doctor?' she capped.
He smiled, thinking all had to be well if she could be sassy with him.
'Something like that. So, where are we going to practise---your place or mine?'
'I...'
Why did she look so worried? 'Charlotte, I promise not to stand on your toes and make you hobble round the hospital for the next month.'
'No.' She paused. 'If we do this---and I mean if---w're Enot doing anything flashy like a tango.'
'No, of course not. I was thinking something like a waltz---especially as there was that Italian research showing that the waltz is one of the best ways to help regain cardiac function after a heart attack.'
Now that he'd put the subject back to medicine, she seemed to relax. 'The one where people who danced made better progress than those on an exercise bike?'
'They had a lower heart rate, higher lung capacity, and they also had more fun so were more likely to stick to the regime. And we can use that in the PR.'
'PR?' she queried.
'We tell the press what w're Edoing, they'll trail it in the local paper, and we'll get local businesses to offer prizes for the tombola. And we can double up when they contact us by asking them to donate something for your promise auction, too.'
'You don't hang about when you make a decision, do you?'
'No. Right---first lesson this evening, your place?'
'I...but you haven't organised it yet.'
He smiled. 'When I say I'll do something, I do it.'
'How are you going to book a band and food and what have you? It's summer, James. Everywhere's going to be booked up. You have to organise a ball months in advance---you're never going to do it in this short a time.'
'I like a challenge.'
The worry on her face seemed to deepen. James took a risk, squeezed her hand and let it go instantly. 'People aren't challenges, Charlotte. Tasks are. And I have contacts. I've done this sort of thing before, so it's not as if I'm going in cold.' Plus he could rope his parents in to help, if need be.
'Oh.' She looked a little less worried.
'What time tonight?'
'I...'
'Twenty minutes, that's all I'm asking,' he said softly. 'And that won't take much out of your evening. It'll still give you time to go and do whatever you normally do on a Friday night. Just tell me what time you want me to turn up---oh, and where you live.'
For a moment he thought she was going to back out. Then she nodded, still looking serious, and scribbled her address down on a piece of paper. 'Half past six, then. Do you need directions?'
'Thanks for the offer, but it won't be a problem.'
'Satnav, hmm?'
He smiled. 'See you at half past six.'
At precisely six-thirty Charlotte's doorbell rang. Trust James to be absolutely on time. She opened the door and discovered that he'd changed from his suit into jeans; somehow it made him feel less threatening, yet at the same time more dangerous. Touchable.
Though there was something else worrying her. 'Did the paparazzi follow you here?'
'No. They don't do it all the time.' He shrugged. 'And, anyway, they've decided I must be on a health kick because I cycle practically everywhere, so at the moment I'm not very interesting.'
She pushed away the thought of how interested the press would be at the idea of James Alexander giving his colleague private dance lessons. 'Come in. Can I get you a coffee or something cold?'
'Thanks, but I'm fine.'
She frowned. 'James, why are you whispering?'
'Because you told me your cat is nervous of men with loud voices, and I don't want to worry her.' He produced a small ball with a bell in it. 'I have to admit, I don't know much about cats, but the woman in the pet shop says they like these.'
'James, you really don't have to buy my cat a present---but thank you.' She led him into the living room. Pandora was sitting on the back of the sofa, her tail swishing; Charlotte picked up the cat and held her close. 'Pandora, this is James. He's a friend. It's OK,' she soothed, her voice calm and soft.
'As I said, don't know much about cats, but I'll work on the same principle as dogs---you don't crowd them and you let them come to check you out when they're ready,' James said.
She remembered what Melinda said about telling people's characters through their reactions to animals. James was giving the cat space, which meant he was likely to give her space, too. When the muscles between her shoulder blades eased, she realised just how tense she'd been.
'Now, are we going to do our routine to classical or pop?'
She grimaced. 'Sorry, I really hadn't even begun to think about this. I haven't done this sort of thing.' She'd made perfectly sure she was working on the night of the hospital ball, in the past, and people who'd wanted to go had been more than happy to exchange duties with her.
'Then humour me on this. I think we'll do classical.'
'So are you planning to have a huge orchestra?'
'A string quartet and a pop band,' he explained. 'I know a couple who owe me a favour, so it won't be a problem booking them.'
'I still can't believe you're going to organise this whole thing in less than a month.'
'We are,' he corrected. 'Tomorrow, I'll run the posters by you.'
He was planning to see her tomorrow?
'I'll call you,' he amended, clearly reading the surprise in her face. 'I'll read it through to you if you're busy.'
'OK.'
'Now, your first dance lesson. The waltz has just three steps---natural turn, reverse turn and change steps.' He demonstrated them for her. 'It's just a matter of following the beat and following my lead. Don't worry if you stand on my toes. I won't break.' He fished his mobile phone out of his pocket. 'Can I put this on the mantelpiece? It has a music player.'
It was one of the latest and most exclusive mobile phones around. It was odd, Charlotte thought, that this incredibly rich guy who mixed with the rich and famous would be slumming it in her little terrace in a Cornish seaside town. Then again, he was also James Alexander, children's heart surgeon, a man whose judgement she trusted at work. The only man she'd allowed to kiss her since Michael. So maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.
And then he manoeuvred her into the hold.
'James, isn't this a bit close?'
'That's the other reason I chose it. Because it means you're going to be close to me,' he said.
She dragged in a breath. 'I...'
'Charlotte, I'm not going to hurt you. Just dance with you. Relax,' he said softly. 'If I'm going too fast, we'll skip the music and do just the steps, until you get the hang of it.'
'Sorry.' She almost---almost---told him about Michael, but at the last moment she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want James to look at her with pity or revulsion. So instead she concentrated on following his lead, trying not to stumble.
'We'll do one more track and then stop,' James said.
She could still feel her heart racing, but he walked her through a three-minute waltz track, and this time it wasn't quite as hard.
'That's enough for today,' he said as the music stopped. He released one of her hands---but instead of taking a step backwards, he cupped her face. Bent his head to hers.
The fingers of her other hand were still tangled with his. And instead of pulling away from his kiss, she found herself responding.
And, to her mingled shock and delight, it was good.
When he broke the kiss, his pupils were huge and his colour had heightened. 'Charlotte. I wasn't expecting...' He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 'Thank you,' he said softly.
And he was the one to step back. To give her space.
'I said I'd take twenty minutes of your evening. Sorry, I've already gone past that. I'll leave now and let you get on.'
He really wasn't going to crowd her.
And she appreciated that. Enough to make a gesture of her own. 'If you're really not doing anything this evening, you can stay and have something to eat if you like. Nothing fancy, just baked salmon and new potatoes and salad.'
'If you're sure, I'd love that.' He smiled at her. 'Tell me where the nearest off-licence is, and I'll go and get some wine to go with it.'
'No need. I've got a couple of bottles in the rack; I can stick one in the fridge.' She paused. 'Did you cycle over?'
'No, I drove. So maybe I'll take a rain check on the wine.' He gave her a naughty little boy grin. 'Want to come and see my car?'
'Your James Bond car?' Something about the mischief in his eyes warmed her. 'You were kidding me, weren't you? It's a complete rust-bucket.'
'Come and see.'
She did.
And it wasn't.
It really was a shiny, gleaming, silver Aston Martin.
'James Bond.' She bit her lip. 'Are you sure you want to leave your car there?'
'Apart from the fact this is hardly a rough area, it's just a car. A box on four wheels.'
Er, no. It was a seriously expensive sports car, and you had to be on a waiting list to get one.
He gave her a sidelong look. 'Or there's another option.'
'What's that?'
'It'll take you about thirty minutes to cook salmon and new potatoes, yes?'
'Yes.'
'How far away is the nearest chip shop?'
'About five minutes.'
'Right. So that's twenty minutes to drive up the coast and back to your chip shop, five minutes to queue, and five minutes to get back here. How about it?'
She looked longingly at the car. It was hugely tempting. 'James, aren't you worried that the fish and chips will make your car smell?'
'W're Enot eating in the car,' he pointed out, 'and I'll have the windows open. So, no. Come and have some fun with me, Charlotte.'
This time, she didn't think about it. Didn't stop to check if there were any paparazzi around. She just gave in to the impulse. 'Let me lock my front door, and you're on.'
Driving in his car was just fabulous. It made her feel like a film star; no wonder he loved his car so much.
'Next time we have a teenage boy in, you can tell him you've sat in my James Bond car,' he said.
'It would be better still if I told him I'd actually driven it,' she retorted.
'He wouldn't believe you---James Bond wouldn't let a woman drive his car.'
She laughed. 'And now you're being sexist.'
'You want to drive?' He pulled over, removed the keys and tossed them to her.
She caught them automatically. 'James! I---No. Supposing I crash?'
'You won't crash.'
'Or scrape it? Or dent it? Or---?'
'Charlotte, it's a only a car,' he interrupted.
'It's gleaming. You must polish it every single day.'
'Well, yes,' he admitted.
She shook her head. 'I can't do this.'
'You thought you couldn't dance,' he pointed out. 'Yet you danced with me tonight.'
And kissed him back. 'That was different.'
He smiled. 'Not so very different. It's just a matter of confidence.' He glanced at his watch. 'Actually, we'd better get going or we'll be late for the chips.'
Just as he'd promised, they were back at her house within the half-hour.
'Thank you,' Charlotte said softly, when he finally got up to leave.
'What for?'
'Being patient with me. I didn't expect that.'
'It's not my strong suit, I admit,' James said. 'But I'm happy to try.'
'I'm happy to try, too,' Charlotte said.
'Thank you,' James said. And when he kissed her goodbye in the hallway, Charlotte felt safe enough with him to return the kiss.
Because James was most definitely different.
THREE weeks after her lumpectomy, Kate had her first radiotherapy session. She'd already met the radiology team, who'd marked tiny dots on her skin to show the area where she'd need treatment, and they'd advised her not to use any perfumed shower gel, deodorant or talcum powder because it might make her skin sore: plain soap and aqueous cream would be better.
'I know your appointment's not until eleven,' Rob said, 'but if we leave at ten, that allows us plenty of time for traffic. And we can always go and have something in the café if w're Ereally early.'
Kate hugged him. 'I really appreciate this, Rob.'
'I know. And I also know you'd do the same for me, so don't start getting any silly ideas.' He hugged her back. 'You don't have to worry about Jem, love. We'll wait with you until you're called in, and then we'll go for a walk or the boys will play on their consoles. And then we'll play it by ear---see how you feel. If you're tired, we'll go home, I'll make you a sandwich and you can sit with your feet up while I take the boys swimming; if you're feeling OK, maybe we can do something together.'
As a family.
The idea warmed her.
'Have I told you lately that you're wonderful?' she asked.
'Yes,' he said with a grin, 'but I'm quite happy for you to keep telling me.'
On Wednesday night, James didn't turn up at their usual time for their dance lesson. Charlotte tried his mobile, but it was switched over to voicemail; she didn't bother leaving a message, assuming that he was on his way and kept his phone switched to voicemail while he was driving.
When another hour had passed, she tried again. Still voicemail. 'James, this is Charlotte. I'm assuming that you can't make it this evening,' she said. She hung up and made herself a coffee. When she still hadn't heard from James half an hour later, she was about to give up waiting and run herself a bath, then her doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, James stood there, looking drawn. 'You look terrible,' she said.
'I feel it,' he admitted. 'I've been in Theatre all day.'
'Come and sit down. What's happened?'
He sank onto the sofa. 'The special care unit called me. They delivered a baby last night with a narrowed aortic valve---Tom. He wasn't up to surgery, so he was in ICU while they hoped to get him a bit stronger. He was cyanotic, and oxygen and prostaglandin therapy didn't do much. So that left me as his best chance. Let's just say it was a bit tricky.' He sighed. 'I did try to ring you, but your phone was engaged.'
'I'm sorry.' She sat down beside him and took his hand. 'Let's skip the lesson tonight. You look shattered---and I bet you haven't eaten, have you?'
'Well, no,' he admitted. 'I was too busy. And I've gone past hunger.'
'And your blood sugar will be dropping like a stone. Stay there and I'll fix you something,' she said.
'Really, you don't have to,' he protested.
'It's going to take me five minutes to make you an omelette. No big deal. Stay put.' She left to pour him a glass of orange juice, then went back into the living room. 'Have this for now. I'll call you when it's ready.'
But when she slid the omelette onto the plate, there was no answer. She walked through to the living room, and James had simply fallen asleep where he sat. And, to her surprise, Pandora was curled up on his lap.
He must be exhausted, she thought, deciding not to wake him. 'Good girl. Stay there,' she whispered to the cat, and tiptoed back out into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, James's mobile phone rang, and he woke with a start. He was even more shocked to find Pandora curled up on his lap. Since when...? And he couldn't even remember falling asleep.
He grabbed the phone from his pocket. 'James Alexander.'
'James, it's Rita from SCBU. We need you back in Theatre, I'm afraid,' the nurse told him. 'Tom isn't doing too well.'
'On my way,' James said. Gently, he stroked Pandora. 'Sorry, Puss. I'm going to have to move you.' He scooped her up and stood up just as Charlotte walked into the living room. 'Sorry, got to go back to Theatre.'
'Tom?' she asked.
He nodded bleakly. 'And you made me dinner and I wasted it. Sorry.'
'James, it was only an omelette. Look, I'll make you a sandwich to go while you wash your face to wake up a bit.' She took Pandora from him. 'Come on, you. Let the poor man go. Bathroom's top of the stairs, right in front of you,'' she said.
When he came down after splashing his face, she'd wrapped up a sandwich for him. 'Take care. I'll see you tomorrow,' she said softly. And then she really shocked him by taking the lead and kissing him. The warmth and sweetness stayed with him all the way through a tough evening in Theatre, and all the way back to his office. And when he closed his eyes to drift into sleep, it was Charlotte's face he saw.
The following morning, Charlotte was sorting out her paperwork before clinic when there was a knock at her door.
She'd never seen James look like that before. His hair was unkempt, his face---usually clean-shaven---was covered with stubble, and his clothes were creased. 'James?' she asked.
'Sorry. I feel rubbish.'
He looked it.
'I know it's completely inappropriate of me to ask, but I could really do with a hug.'
To her horror, she could actually see tears in his eyes. Something had happened. Something awful. Immediately, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms round him. 'What's wrong? Has something happened with your family?'
'No.' He swallowed hard and rested his head against her shoulder. 'Just, sometimes, I hate my job.'
'What's happened, James?'
He dragged in a breath. 'You know I came back to Theatre last night---well, I stayed here last night, in case I was needed.'
That explained his dishevelled appearance.
'And Tom died, Charlotte. I couldn't save him. I let him down, I let his parents down, and I let the team down.'
'Hey. You did your best---if you couldn't do it, nobody else could.'
'It doesn't feel like it right now.'
'You're a good surgeon. And I should know, because I've seen you work.'
'I don't lose many patients.' He held her closer. 'But it hurts like hell when I do. I was meant to save people, Charlotte, not lose them.'
She stroked his hair back from his forehead. 'Listen to me. You were in Theatre all day yesterday and most of the evening. And where did you sleep last night?'
'The chair in my office,' he admitted.
'Which meant you got practically no sleep.'
'I cat-napped.' He shrugged. ' But that's par for the course, a skill a surgeon has to learn early on.' He shivered. 'I hate my job, Charlotte. I really hate it when it doesn't work and I have to make the call. I hate it when I have to say the words "time of death". I hate having to tell the parents I couldn't save their child and I see the light go out in their eyes---when I see the grief and desperation just seeping through them, and I should've been able to stop it happening.' The last words came out overlaid with pain.
'You're being way too hard on yourself, James.' Her heart ached for him, but at the same time she was glad he'd confided in her, had taken off the mask of the flash playboy doctor and let her see the man underneath. He was a good man, who was hurting---a man who needed her.
She had no idea how long she stayed there, just holding him, letting her strength prop him up. But one thing she was sure about: if the positions had been reversed, James would be holding her and he'd be the strong one, letting her lean on him.
He'd once told her that they'd make a fabulous team.
And she had a feeling that he was right.
The week before the ball, James asked Charlotte to come over to his place for the dance lesson. 'Not that there's anything wrong with your place, but we need to try our routine in a larger area.'
'And your place is huge, right?'
'It's rented, so it's not strictly my place,' he said, 'but...um...yes. It's pretty big.'
That barely described it, Charlotte thought when he ushered her inside. The living room took up the entire top floor of the three-storey house---an enormous expanse with a sea view, a balcony and a proper wooden floor. Not to mention a state-of-the-art audio-visual system and enormous, butter-soft leather sofas.
Funny how far they'd come in four weeks. Four weeks of working together, dancing together, sharing bits of each other's lives. To the point where she'd even kiss him in her office, not worrying that someone might spot them and start gossiping. Four weeks ago, when she'd first danced with him, she'd stumbled over everything. And now she was gliding with him, at one with him, practically feeling his heart beat in time with hers.
He switched on his sound system and the first notes of the waltz from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty floated into the air. As they began dancing, she realised that he was right. Even with the furniture pushed back, her living room had been limited in space. Now they spun together and it was like floating. She actually closed her eyes, trusting in the rhythm of the music and James's lead. With one sense temporarily missing, the others grew more intense---she was aware of the hard muscle beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his hand in hers, his clean masculine scent.
At the very end, instinctively she tipped her face up towards his to welcome his kiss; her mouth tingled, her blood seemed to fizz in her veins, and she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck to pull him closer.
When they finally broke the kiss, they were both shaking. 'Charlotte. Stay with me tonight,' he said softly.
For a moment, she almost said yes. James was the first man she'd wanted to make love with since Michael---and she really did want to touch him, explore him, find out what gave him pleasure and what blew his mind. And let him explore her just the same way.
Though she knew it wasn't fair to take things further without telling him the truth about her past. Something that she wished now she'd done earlier, because she had no idea how he'd react. He'd be angry on her behalf, she knew that much, but when he'd had time to think about it, would it make him reject her?
'I...It's the wrong time of the month,' she prevaricated.
It wasn't true, but it was the best excuse she could think of right at that moment.
He brushed his mouth against hers. 'Stay anyway. You can still sleep in my arms. Even if I don't touch you the way I'm desperate to touch you.'
She really hadn't expected that sweetness from him. And it made her want to cry. 'James, I...'
'It's OK. I'm not going to rush you. I can wait until you're ready.' He dropped a kiss on her forehead and gently disengaged himself from the dance hold.
'Thank you,' she whispered.
'So have you decided on a dress yet?' he asked.
'No,' she admitted. She'd been so busy learning to dance that she'd forgotten about the dress. And she wasn't used to glitzy, glamorous clothes. She didn't go to glitzy, glamorous places---just on team nights out, to the bowling alley and to the cinema and to restaurants where casual clothing was perfectly acceptable. 'Sorry. I'll go and find something at the weekend.'
'Forgive me,' he said, 'for being a bit pushy.'
'Pushy?' she asked, not understanding.
'Stay where you are and close your eyes.' As if he sensed that she was about to ask why, he added with a smile, 'Humour me. It was OK last time, wasn't it?'
When he'd fed her chocolate. 'Uh-huh.' Warily, she did as he asked.
'Don't open your eyes or you'll spoil it,' he warned.
She heard him walk out of the room; a few moments later, she heard him ask, 'Are your eyes still closed?'
'Yes.'
There was a rustling sound. 'You can open your eyes now.'
She did so, and blinked in a mixture of surprise and delight as she saw the most incredible dress hanging on the door. 'Wow.' Then she bit her lip. 'James, that's a really lovely gesture, but this must have cost a fortune.'
He shrugged it off. 'As I said, I've been a bit pushy, but I really wanted to buy you a proper ballroom dancing dress. Do you mind very much?'
'Mind? James, it's beautiful. Thank you.' The dress was cornflower blue, the skirt was ankle length, silky and swirly, and the top was strappy. There was a floaty strip of silk running from the shoulder to a small cuff on her wrist; the back was low, but it wasn't the glittery thing she would've expected him to choose. It was subtle, and beautiful, and incredibly feminine. 'It's like a fairy princess dress.'
'Well, w're Edancing to the Sleeping Beauty waltz. I thought the dress went with the song.'
She smiled. 'I'm fairly sure it was Cinderella who had a blue dress, not Sleeping Beauty, and from memory it was a much paler blue.'
He laughed. 'This one's the same colour as your eyes. That's why I chose it.'
He'd noticed the colour of her eyes?
And then another thought hit her. 'How did you know what size to buy?'
'Guesswork,' he said. 'Bearing in mind what my mother did for a living, it's something I picked up from her, not because I'm a leering Lothario who sizes up every female in my path. But it is a guess, and that's why I'm giving it to you now, in case it needs alterations. If you want to try it on, my bedroom's down the stairs, first door you see.' His bedroom.
She felt the colour flood into her face.
'Uh, that came out wrong,' he said hastily. 'We've already established that w're Enot sharing a bedroom tonight. What I meant was, you can change in the bathroom if you want, or use my room if you want somewhere with a full-length mirror. And I'll be on the balcony if you want to come and see me when you're dressed.'
He really was trying, she thought. Really wasn't taking it for granted that she'd be like all the women in his past. 'Thank you,' she said softly. On impulse, she walked over to him, and kissed him on the cheek. 'For---well. Lots of things.'
'Go and try the dress on.' He flapped a hand at her. 'Before I try to change your mind.'
The back of the dress was much lower than she was used to, but it also meant she could handle the zip herself. And it fitted perfectly. She took her hair out of the French pleat she usually wore it in and let it fall over her bare shoulders.
'You look amazing,' he said when she joined him on the balcony. 'Turn round, so I can see it properly.'
'Obviously I'll get proper shoes,' she said. 'With heels the same height as the ones I've been using when we've practised.'
He nodded. 'And spray the soles with hairspray. It's another of my mother's tips---it means you're less likely to slip on the floor.' Almost as if unable to help himself, he curled the ends of her hair round his fingers. 'Your hair is beautiful like that,' he said softly, 'but it's easier to dance with it up. Just leave a couple of curls at the front to soften it.'
It sounded almost as if he was voicing a personal dream. Dangerous---so she took refuge in sass. 'And lots of glitter and make-up?'
He laughed. 'You don't need it.'
'I wasn't fishing.'
'I know.' His fingers were still in her hair. And her knees were decidedly wobbly. 'And you're wearing what?'
'An ordinary black tailcoat and trousers.'
She knew he was understating it---his outfit would be beautifully cut and hideously expensive---but that was who James was, what he'd grown up with. She had to learn to accept that about him.
'So shall we give it a whirl?'
They went through their routine again, and with the dress it made everything feel much more real. And she felt exactly like the fairy princess in the tale.
At the end, he kissed her again. A sweet, slow kiss that made her bones melt. And then he took a step back. 'Just so I can keep my promise to be a gentleman,' he said softly.
'OK, love?' Rob settled Kate onto the sofa.
'Just tired. I really didn't expect it to hit me like this,' she admitted. 'I know women who've had radiotherapy in their coffee breaks.'
'And others who've been sick as well as tired. Look on the bright side---you've been spared that.' He fetched her a glass of water. 'I'm just sorry that I have to go back to work next week and can't take you to the rest of your sessions.'
'Rob, you've spent your entire summer holidays looking after me. You've taken me to three weeks of radiotherapy,' she said, 'and you've been brilliant with the boys. You've had them doing chores without complaining, taken them out to burn off all that energy, and you've done more than your fair share of the cooking. I...I just can't tell you how much I appreciate it.' She scrubbed at a tear. 'And how much I hate being weepy and maudlin like this. It isn't me.'
'I know that, love.' He leaned over to kiss her. 'It's the radiotherapy, making you feel tired and a bit low. And, besides, tears can be healing.' He smiled wryly.
'Everyone's been so kind.' Kate indicated the vases of flowers that filled the room---and there were just as many in the kitchen. 'Every day someone brings me flowers.' To the point where Rob had had to nip out and buy some extra vases. As soon as one vase had passed its best and she'd consigned them to the compost heap, within half an hour someone else would bring some in. 'Polly's been brilliant.' She'd dropped in every day. 'And everyone from the practice.' Except Nick. Once he'd learned that Rob had moved in, he'd gone for complete avoidance. And Kate was surprised how much it still hurt.
'That's because,' Rob said, 'everyone loves you. And my guess is you've supported them in the past. And what goes around comes around. I think you're amazing, and so do the boys.'
'You're pretty amazing yourself, Robert Werrick.'
He brushed the compliment aside. 'So who's taking you to the hospital next week? Because I warn you, Kate, if you're even thinking about driving yourself, I'm going to confiscate your car keys.'
'No, I'm not,' she reassured him. 'Polly's already organised a rota, bless her. I was so worried about her, especially as this happened right at the time she came back and I haven't been there to support her. She's so strong in many ways, but still so fragile in others.'
'Kate, don't feel guilty. I'm sure she understands.'
'She more than understands, bless her. She's set it up so that she, Oliver, Dragan, Gabriel and Chloe are all doing one day a week, so that's the two weeks covered.'
'And the boys are both going to football training after school on the days when I'm doing after-school triathlon coaching,' he said. 'So you don't have to worry about them---I'll pick them up from their school when I've finished coaching at mine. Everything's going to be just fine.'
And Kate was beginning to believe him.
On Saturday morning, Charlotte dropped in to see Melinda. 'Oh, just look at them! They're gorgeous,' she said when she saw the puppies curled up asleep next to their mother. 'Bramble, you're such a clever girl.'
The flatcoat retriever's tail thumped.
'So how old are they now?'
'Twelve days. They can see now,' Melinda explained, 'but they can't hear yet.'
'Would Bramble mind if I...?'
'She's used to people dropping in now,' Melinda said with a smile.
Charlotte made a fuss of Bramble, then gently stroked one of the pups. 'So soft. Do you have homes lined up for them all yet?'
'I have a few people interested,' Melinda said, 'though they won't be ready until near the end of October. Kate said she'd like one of the brown ones for Jem; if she's not feeling quite up to dealing with a pup at that point, we'll look after him for a bit longer. We want to keep one ourselves.'
'Could you put me down for one of the black ones?' Charlotte asked.
'Anything to do with a certain person you think might be good with children and animals?' Melinda asked.
'Maybe,' Charlotte said. 'He did say something to me about wanting a dog when he was a boy.'
'Ah. You know, I'll have to meet him first---and I won't be vetting him for you. I'll be vetting him for the pup.'
Charlotte laughed. 'Of course. Though, if it helps, Pandora makes a beeline for him whenever he comes over and sprawls all over him.'
'That's a good sign. So you're seeing him?' Melinda asked.
'I'm his dance partner at the charity ball.'
'But it's more than that, cara?'
Charlotte gave a shy nod.
'Bene. I thought so. He's chased away a lot of the shadows in your eyes. And don't deny it. My Dragan's the same,' Melinda said with a gentle smile.
'Do you think a pup would get on with Pandora?'
'The wind's blowing in that direction, cara?'
'Too early to say. But just supposing...?'
'Burmese blues are pretty sociable,' Melinda said thoughtfully. 'I know Pandora had a bad scare when her owner died, but she's very settled with you. Obviously it'd take a few days for them to settle in together, but it's a lot easier to introduce a pup into a house with an adult cat than it is to introduce a kitten into a house with an adult dog. I'd say you'd be fine.'
On Monday morning, James knocked on Charlotte's office door. 'Got a minute?'
'Sure.'
He closed the door behind him, pulled the blinds, then drew her to her feet and kissed her thoroughly. 'Mmm. That's better. I've got some good news---I've managed to get the judges I wanted for the ball.' He named some dancers that even Charlotte had heard of.
'How did you manage that?' she asked.
'By shamelessly asking some of my mother's friends,' he said with a grin. 'Anyway, w're Edefinitely going to have the nationals covering us now.'
'Nationals?'
'Press. Which means we'll get money coming in after the event.'
The national press.
Oh, no.
The last thing she wanted was the national press hanging around. Especially as someone might do some digging and connect her with a certain story from three years before...'I'd rather not, James.'
'Rather not what?' He looked mystified.
'Involve the national press. Look, this is a local thing. We don't need the papers from London. And it'd be better to get the hospital press office to handle it for us.'
'Charlotte, I've been dealing with the press for years. They'll love this.'
'I'd really rather not.' She took a deep breath. 'So if the papers are there, I won't be.'
'Why?'
'Because...' Now wasn't the right place to tell him about Michael and the court case. 'I prefer my life to be a bit more private.' She still had no idea how she and James had managed to avoid being photographed together. But as soon as the national press came down here...she and James would have no privacy at all.
And as for what it meant for the crisis centre...
'I don't want to be involved with the press,' she said.
'Charlotte. There's nothing to worry about, really. It'll be fine.' He pressed a kiss into her palm and folded her fingers round it. 'Look---'
But whatever he'd been going to say was interrupted by his bleeper. He checked the screen and grimaced. 'Sorry. Got to go.'
'But you'll let the hospital press office handle it? And stick to just talking to the local newspaper?' Charlotte asked. 'Please?'
'Don't worry,' he reassured her. 'I'll sort everything out. See you later.' He kissed her, and left her office.
Nobody at the hospital talked about anything else for the next few days except the ball. By Thursday, the entire place was buzzing. James and Charlotte had promised to go into the children's ward just beforehand to give their patients a preview of Charlotte's dress.
'Dr Charlotte, you look just like a princess!' Tammy, the patient James had operated on the previous week to close a hole in the heart, said. 'And Dr James looks like Prince Charming.'
In a black tailcoat and trousers, a white wingtip shirt and a white bow-tie, Charlotte thought that James looked stunning. In his top pocket there was a silk square the same colour as her dress; typical James, paying attention to all the details.
'You're going to win,' Tammy declared.
'Maybe,' Charlotte said with a smile. And maybe they were going to win something more important than a dance competition.
James had ordered them a limousine.
'Surely I'm allowed to be flashy tonight?' he teased.
'Hmm,' Charlotte said, though she couldn't help smiling. He looked as excited as a little boy who'd just been told he could pick anything he liked from a toyshop.
At the ball, James was in his element---compering, persuading people to buy extra tombola tickets, smiling at everyone.
And he'd really pulled off the organisation. He had friends in TV who'd lent them special machines for the evening so that the audience could vote for their favourite dancers. He'd lined up four judges---Geoff Hunter, the head of surgery; Albert White, the hospital's chief executive; and the two professional dancers he'd told her about, who were happy to sign autographs and had donated tickets for top seats to their own shows as tombola prizes. The hospital's press officer was there, to Charlotte's relief; although they'd never had a chance to finish that conversation, clearly James had listened to her worries about the press.
She'd never seen her colleagues do all the glamorous stuff before---a huge variety of dances, from a passionate tango through to a glitzy American smooth---and everyone was clearly enjoying themselves.
She and James were the last couple to dance. When James picked up the microphone again to announce them, her heart started thumping so hard and so loudly that she was sure the people either side of her must be able to hear it.
'The cardio-surgical team has opted for a waltz,' James said, 'because there's research proof that it's good for your heart. W're Ejust practising what we preach.' He handed the microphone over to Geoff.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' Geoff said as James walked over to Charlotte, 'I give you the cardio-surgical team, Charlotte Walker and James Alexander.'
The cheering and clapping fuelled her nerves even more.
'Stop panicking,' James said in a low voice. 'W're Egoing to do just fine. We've done this every single day for the last month, and you know it works. Just pretend w're Edancing in your living room and Pandora's watching us.'
'OK.' But in her head she was thinking about dancing with him in that huge room overlooking the sea, and the way he'd kissed her.
And then she heard the first notes of the song: she and James were under the spotlight, waltzing, and it felt as though she were floating. At the very end, James was kissing her. Really kissing her. And it was only the sound of the applause that reminded her where they were and brought her to her senses.
Just.
The judges delivered their verdicts. Three nines---and a ten, which sent James straight into Cheshire cat mode.
'Don't forget it's the audience vote that counts,' James said, taking the microphone back. 'Think about it while we have dinner and a dance ourselves, and w're Egoing to announce the winner right at the very end.'
THE rest of the evening was a blur. Although Charlotte danced with other colleagues, she didn't get the floaty feeling with them that she'd experienced in James's arms. Every time she danced with James, it was as if all the lights were brighter and all the sparkly bits were glitzier. And to her surprise nobody teased her about that incredibly public kiss. Steffie just gave her a hug and whispered, 'We all guessed that was the way things were going, and you make a fabulous couple. I'm so glad for you.'
And then it was time for the final announcement. Charlotte was expecting it to go to Lisa and Matt, who'd danced the tango incredibly professionally. But then James's TV friend finished totting up the votes, and whispered to Albert White.
The chief exec made a mercifully short speech, and then smiled. 'I'm delighted to announce that the winning couple is the cardio-surgical team.' Charlotte was too stunned to say a word. All she could do was follow James as he took her hand and tugged her along beside him.
'This is a first,' James said. 'I'm used to Charlotte being quiet, but not speechless. Thank you very much for voting for us, and I hope you've had as good a time this evening as we have. Your generosity has helped us raise a huge amount of money...' there were gasps when he named the amount '...and I'd like to split it between three very deserving causes. Firstly, to the Friends of the Hospital, because they really do make a difference; secondly, to the cardiac department at St Piran's; and, thirdly, to the rape crisis centre that my brilliant dance partner has set up in Penhally. Thank you all very much.'
Flashbulbs were going off everywhere, there was so much noise that Charlotte could barely make out a word anyone was saying to her---and she was completely overwhelmed.
She hadn't expected this at all. She'd assumed that if they won---and she'd doubted that---James would want to split the money between the Friends of the Hospital and maybe the cath lab. But he'd put the spotlight on the rape crisis centre.
He hadn't given her the vaguest hint---and that showed her just how little she really did know him. Although part of her was delighted to know there was money coming in to help train volunteers for the helpline and to pay for counselling sessions for those who needed them, she still couldn't get past the fact that James hadn't even discussed it with her first.
He'd been completely high-handed about it.
And those flashbulbs...They had to be more than just the local papers. Even knowing that she didn't want the nationals there, he'd just gone straight ahead with what he wanted.
So much for thinking that he was nothing like Michael. He, too, had completely ignored her requests.
She was so hurt and angry that she couldn't say a word.
'What's wrong?' James asked, a few minutes later when she still hadn't said much.
'Bit of a headache.' It wasn't a complete fib. There was a tight, nagging band around her forehead.
'I'll take you home,' he said.
She shook her head. 'No need. You've got things to sort out here. I'll get a taxi.'
'Sure?'
'Sure.' The quicker she was out of there, the better. Before she said something unforgivable to him. She needed time to cool down.
'I'll call you later,' he said.
'I'd rather you didn't.'
'Of course. You need some sleep to get rid of that headache. Just text me when you get in, so I know you're home safely. And I'll see you tomorrow,' he said.
Except the following morning turned out to be even more difficult. When Charlotte rounded the corner to go into the hospital, she saw a pack of people waiting outside the main entrance.
As she drew closer, she could see cameras. And all of a sudden the pack turned and surged towards her. Flashbulbs popped, people were calling her name and yelling out questions, all talking at once. Instinctively, she raised her hand to her face and pushed her way through the crowd, not saying a word.
She'd seen this kind of thing in films and on television, but never in real life. All this, just because she'd won a dance competition in a charity ball? Ridiculous.
People in the corridor glanced at her curiously; some nudged others and whispered and pointed.
It wasn't until she passed the hospital shop and saw the newspaper stand that she realised what was really going on.
PLAYBOY DOC DANCES INTO HER HEART DOCTOR KISSES PLAYBOY BETTER
She stared at the headlines in disbelief. One of the papers even had a photograph of her dancing with James, showing that kiss at the end.
Oh, no. How could she have been so stupid? Even when they'd had a quiet dinner in the pub, they'd been snapped by the press. She should've realised that this sort of thing would happen. That even if it had just been the local papers there, the press would ignore the story about the money they'd raised and focus on James's personal life. And as the nationals were there...
This was bad.
She glanced quickly through the papers. At least there was nothing about Liverpool. For now. But it wouldn't take long for the press to dig it up. She'd wanted to stop Michael hurting someone else and to get help for him, so she'd agreed to waive her right to anonymity and she'd been named in the press. Bitter as it had felt at the time, she'd done it for the greater good. To make sure that justice was done.
Nobody in St Piran knew what had happened in Liverpool. She hadn't talked about it even to Steffie or Tim, the colleagues she was closest to, and when they found out the truth, they'd be so hurt that she'd shut them out.
But it hadn't been like that.
She'd wanted a fresh start, that was all. Somewhere that her name wasn't known. She'd been so happy here; and now it was going to be spoiled. Instead of people seeing the young, capable doctor they'd worked with for nearly two years, they'd see a victim.
And maybe the whispers would go out that she'd led him on, that date rape wasn't as bad as raping a stranger. But in her view, if anything, it was worse when someone you trusted betrayed you and hurt you like that.
The newspapers would get their angle and it wouldn't be the truth. There would be some kind of spin on it. Hadn't James himself said that the press always exaggerated their stories about him?
But even that paled into comparison with the real damage the stories would do. How would anyone at the centre trust her now? How could she give quiet support to people who needed it, people who were vulnerable? The last thing they needed was the press sniffing round and blaring lurid headlines about rape.
There was only one way to keep herself safe---to keep the people who came to the centre for help safe---and that was to back off from James.
Right now.
There were murmurs and looks when she walked onto the ward, and she hated it. Even Steffie looked wary. 'Are you all right, Charlotte?' she asked.
'I'm fine, thank you,' she said tightly.
'Hon, you don't look it.'
'I could throttle James,' Charlotte admitted. 'He didn't even discuss it with me.'
'Maybe he was trying to give you a nice surprise.'
'Maybe he wanted everyone to see what a hero he was,' Charlotte retorted, her lip curling.
'Charlotte---look, let me get you a cup of tea.'
'Thanks, but I'm fine.' And hanging around the department was making it worse. 'I'll be back in a minute. Bleep me if it's urgent.'
She stomped over to the surgical department and waited for James in his office. Her temper sizzled more with every passing second, and when James finally walked in she didn't give him a chance to speak. Even though she knew she was being unfair, that she was equally to blame, she lost her temper.
'What the hell were you thinking of?' she demanded. 'Look at the circus out there!'
'I'm s---' he began.
'Sorry? For pity's sake, James, why didn't you think before you opened your mouth? Women who've been raped don't want the media crawling all over the place! My clinic is meant to give comfort and practical advice to women who've been hurt and shocked, not sensational stuff for the tabloids.'
'Charlotte, it wasn't meant to be like that. I was trying to help---to give publicity to the cause.'
'Publicity isn't the answer, James. I don't need flashy celebrity stuff. I need people who are going to be able to give these women support and advocacy, counselling and information. Which they're not going to get with a pack of journalists baying outside. You don't have a clue, do you? Right now, I'm doing the centre for one day a week, plus the website and a phone support one evening a week, but I want it to grow. It doesn't stand a chance if there's going to be photographers and journalists sniffing around for scandal.'
'Charlotte, listen---'
'No, you listen to me, James. Rape's the most under-reported crime in the country, for a good reason. Women who've been attacked feel dirty, feel as if it's their fault, when it isn't. They're scared nobody's going to believe them. Four out of five don't even go to the police---and even if they do go to the police, a quarter of those have left it more than a day and it's too late to...' She choked for a moment. 'Too late to collect the evidence. And the trials are a mockery. It's slowly getting better, but still so many jurors just think the woman's asking for it or making it up to get revenge on the bloke. And it's not like that. The majority of women know their attacker, but it doesn't mean they want to be forced into having sex.'
James looked horrified.
'Centres like mine help women---but now, instead of having a quiet place to come for help, they've got the press shining a spotlight over them.'
'This wasn't supposed to happen.'
'You've lived with the paparazzi all your life. You're used to them---and, if anything, you thrive on the attention. You can't help seeking it out. Yes, you worked hard organising the ball and you raised a lot of money for good causes---but you like to be seen raising the money,' Charlotte said bitterly. Because that was the truth of it. 'You want people to know what you've done, so you get public acknowledgement and have everyone talking about what a great guy you are.'
'It's not like that,' James protested.
'No? I told you I didn't want the nationals involved, and you didn't listen. You just went right on ahead with it.'
'I thought you were just being...well...shy.'
'Shy?' She stared at him in disbelief. 'It's got nothing to do with shyness and everything to do with wanting to keep my life private.' Her lip curled. 'You might be a brilliant doctor, but as a person I think you're a total and utter...' She dragged in a breath, then used a word that really shocked him, coming from her.
'I'll work with you simply because I have to and I don't want my patients to suffer,' she said, 'but that's as far as it goes. I don't want to see you any more than strictly necessary.'
And she walked away before he could say another word.
She wasn't finished yet. James was just the first one she wanted to talk to. Buoyed up with anger, she strode back out to the hospital entrance.
The moment she appeared, the cameras started snapping.
'Charlotte, Charlotte, give us a smile,' several called.
She held up one hand, extending her index finger, and the hubbub fell silent.
'You're blocking the entrance to the hospital and you're getting in the way of the patients and the staff. That's not fair.' She took a deep breath. 'Come with me and I'll talk to you.'
There were calls of 'Good girl' and 'That's right, darlin'!'
But, to her relief, they moved away from the hospital entrance.
'Please listen to me,' she said quietly. 'There isn't a story for you here. I'm not sleeping with James Alexander and I have no intention of seeing him outside work. He's my colleague. I work with him---and I worked with him on the dance evening to raise money for the hospital.'
'Bet that's not all that was raised, darlin',' one of them called.
Charlotte took a deep breath. Willed herself to stay calm in front of the crudeness. 'This is a hospital. I'm a doctor. So is James. We work with sick children. And that's all there is to it.'
When the questions continued, she realised just how naïve she'd been. They didn't want the truth: they wanted to sell newspapers.
Again, she held her hand up. 'If you want a real story...'
They fell silent, agog---clearly believing that she was going to spill some scandal. Well, she wasn't. She was going to try and make the best of a bad job. 'What I suggest you do is talk to the hospital's press department. With my patients' permission, I'm happy for any of you to sit in my clinic, one at a time. You can talk to my patients and their parents, and you'll hear the stories of children overcoming real odds---children who'd die if people like me weren't around to do something to help them. Children who'd die if people didn't fill out donor cards or give blood. That's the real story here. Courage and kindness making the world go round. Other people, not me.'
'What about James?' someone called.
She sighed. 'I already told you. I'm here to do my job and so is Mr Alexander. To save children's lives. Will you let us do that?'
There was no comment, though she thought she could see shame flushing several faces.
'And I hope,' she said softly, 'that any money you've made from pictures and untrue stories of last night, you'll do the decent thing and give it to someone who needs it more. Make something good happen out of all this mess. Now, excuse me. I've got patients to see.'
And then she walked back in to the hospital, her head held high.
But the pep talk didn't work. Or maybe the paparazzi just didn't care, Charlotte thought, because they were still chasing her. Doorstepping her over the whole weekend.
By Tuesday, she knew that she couldn't do her normal stint at the centre. Couldn't drag the press with her to Penhally, besieging her uncle's surgery and bringing media attention to women who needed support, not scandal-mongering. The only way she could protect the centre was to close it for the day. And her anger with James grew minute by minute; he'd put her in an impossible position. She barely spoke to him at work; she just about managed to put their joint patients first and maintain a professional attitude, but rebuffed every offer of lunch or a coffee. She was only glad that he hadn't tried some over-the-top gesture like sending her roses---or she would probably have ended up throwing them at him.
And she found it very hard to be polite when the parents of patients she saw for follow-up appointments asked about James or mentioned seeing them in the paper.
The worst was Judy Martyn, when Ellis came back for a check-up.
'You looked so lovely together in the newspapers,' Judy said. 'The perfect couple. I should've guessed, the way you worked together---such a perfect team.'
If only Judy knew how far they were from being a team. And perfect didn't even begin to come into the equation where James was concerned.
'W're Ejust colleagues,' Charlotte replied, trying very hard to smile when she really wanted to scream. 'Really, I barely know him.'
And as for the man she'd been falling in love with...
Well, he didn't exist.
On Thursday, she had a polite call from the surgical team's secretary, asking to set up an appointment to see Millie Fowler's parents with James.
Ha. A week ago, James would've dropped in to see her before clinic or surgery and synchronised his schedule with hers. And although part of her missed that easiness between them, a larger part of her was relieved that he was doing things formally. It meant he was respecting what she'd said.
All the same, she felt sick with nerves when it got to two o'clock, knowing that she'd have to face James and work as a team with him. There was no alternative. She could hardly refuse to see her patients, and switching caseloads with Tim would be unfair to all their patients as well as to Tim.
James arrived at the special care baby unit at exactly the same time she did.
'Dr Walker,' he said coolly.
'Mr Alexander.' She, too, could do cool and formal. Even though being close to him again made all her insides ache.
Together---and yet as far apart as they could possibly be---they walked into the room where Millie was lying in a crib, having oxygen therapy.
'Mr and Mrs Fowler? I'm James Alexander, the surgeon, and this is Charlotte Walker, the cardiologist,' James introduced them both.
Gently, Charlotte took them through the diagnosis. 'Millie has a heart condition known as tetralogy of Fallot. It sounds scary, but it's the most common heart condition and plenty of babies go on to do really well.'
'Dr Cook said that she had a heart murmur,' Mrs Fowler said. 'And that she was a blue baby.'
Charlotte nodded. 'I've run some tests, as you know, so I could take a closer look at Millie's heart and what's going on. There are four parts to her condition.' Putting as much as she could into layman's terms, she explained the condition to Millie's parents: a narrowed pulmonary valve which obstructed the blood flow, a hole in the ventricle and an enlarged aortic valve which allowed unoxygenated blood to circulate through the boy; and a thickened muscular wall to Millie's right ventricle because it had to pump blood at a higher pressure.
'She will need surgery,' James said, 'where I'll close the hole in her heart so the blood can flow normally again, but that won't be until she's six months old.'
'So does she have to stay in hospital until after the surgery?' Mr Fowler asked.
'No, you'll be able to take her home,' Charlotte reassured her. 'But you might find she has "tetralogy spells" where she'll be a bit irritable and she'll look blue. That's because there isn't enough oxygen in her blood---the blood's darker and looks blue, and you'll notice it more in her lips and fingertips. Sometimes just lifting her knees up gently, like this...' she demonstrated '...will help, and give her a cuddle.'
'But if she has a lot of these spells, we might need to take her in for an operation called a BT shunt, to make sure Millie gets enough blood flow to her lungs. I'll be able to remove the shunt when she has the operation at six months,' James explained.
'It's a lot to take in,' Charlotte said, 'so I've got some leaflets for you. You're bound to have questions afterwards, so I'll come in again and see you and Millie tomorrow, and we can talk over anything you're worried about or want to know more about.'
'Thank you.' Mrs Fowler looked worried sick.
Charlotte reached over and squeezed her hand. 'I know it's worrying,' she said softly, 'and you're probably feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, but things will get better. Millie's in really good hands, and we can put you in touch with other parents who've been through exactly this and can help support you. Obviously w're Ehere and you can talk to us as any time, but it does help to talk to other parents.'
Mrs Fowler nodded, clearly too choked to talk.
Charlotte gently said goodbye. James clearly intended leaving the ward with her, but she managed to avoid him by the simple strategy of going to the loo.
Ah, hell. She'd been through worse---much worse---in Liverpool. Things would settle down again. It would just take time. And until then...she just needed to keep her distance from James. To stop thinking about him and wishing that things had been different.
KATE was asleep on the sofa; gently, Rob covered her with a blanket, and went to remind the boys to be quiet while they finished their homework as Kate was sleeping.
But he couldn't resist peeking in at her before heading for the kitchen.
When Annette had been killed, the bottom had dropped out of his world. He'd never thought he'd fall in love again. And then Kate had arrived in his life, sweet and warm and one of life's fixers. The more he'd got to know her, the more he'd liked her---and when he'd finally plucked up the courage to ask her out, he'd been amazed that she'd actually said yes.
Liking had turned to love. And he knew without a doubt that he wanted to marry Kate. Part of him wanted to wake her up and ask her there and then. Ask her to make him the happiest man alive.
But it really wouldn't be fair to ask her.
Not now, when she was so vulnerable. Near the tail end of her treatment, but still with the shadow of cancer hanging over her. Knowing Kate, she'd refuse---not because she didn't care about him but because she wouldn't want him to run the risk of becoming a widower for the second time.
It was a risk he was more than prepared to run, but he'd wait. Until Kate had had a chance to recover from the radiotherapy, go to her three-month check-up and get the all-clear. When she'd be in a place to meet him as his equal, in her eyes.
'And then, Kate Althorp,' he said very softly in the livingroom doorway, 'I'm going to ask you to do me the greatest honour. I'm going to ask you to let me love you for the rest of our lives. I'm going to ask you to marry me.'
The weekend was the most miserable that James could ever remember. The end of a whole week where he'd ached with missing Charlotte. And it scared him to find how much he missed her. He'd never, ever felt like this before.
And then it hit him with a shock.
He loved her.
Really loved her.
Though she certainly wasn't ready to hear those words from him. She might never be. He was going to have to work really hard to establish the old easiness between them---and, given the way she'd been with him at work for the last week, he was beginning to wonder if he ever would be able to do it.
How had it become such a mess? He'd meant to use his celebrity connections for a good reason, to draw attention to what Charlotte was doing and how important the work was. The idea had been to raise the profile of the clinic and get more people to donate funds. And he'd got it wrong. Big time.
This was worse than when he'd discovered the pictures of Sophia draped over the Italian on his father's yacht---worse than when he'd realised his marriage was an utter sham and Sophia hadn't loved him for himself at all.
But it wasn't himself he felt bad for, it was Charlotte. He hated himself for hurting her and causing her problems with the centre. It was so important to her---and, thanks to his interference, he'd heard that she hadn't been able to avoid the paparazzi and work at the centre that week.
He couldn't get her accusation out of his head: that he did good, but wanted to make sure that everyone saw him doing it. He'd never thought of it that way, but he was beginning to realise that she had a point. He did lead a flashy lifestyle, and the celebrity world he moved in was incredibly shallow.
He'd considered sending her flowers to apologise but, apart from the fact that it wasn't anywhere near good enough, he was pretty sure she wouldn't accept them. The only way he could think of to start making amends was to give some quiet support to the cause that was obviously close to her heart.
And to write her a very, very personal letter of apology.
He just hoped she'd read it.
On Monday evening, Charlotte came home to find a hand-delivered envelope on her doormat. The address was typed. Junk mail, she thought, and opened it, ready to shred anything with her personal details and put the rest in the recycling bin.
But it contained two more envelopes. Both very good quality papers. And both were addressed in handwriting she recognised.
James's.
One said Open me first and the other Open me second.
She wasn't interested in anything he had to say. She really ought to just give them back to him, unopened. But then curiosity got the better of her and she read them.
The first one was a letter.
Hand-written. In fountain-pen, of course---James wouldn't use a cheap and cheerful ballpen.
But he'd clearly spent time over it. He hadn't typed it or sent an email. This was personal. And when she read it, she realised he was being sincere. Really laying himself open.
I'm so sorry about all the mess in the papers. I can't change the past but, if I could, I'd go back and do things differently.
Yeah. So would she.
I can't use my training to support your work at the centre, because I realised that women who come to you for help will probably want to see a female doctor. But if there's anything else I can do, whether if it's licking stamps and sticking them on envelopes, or delivering flyers by hand, or cleaning the clinic and helping you lock up at the end of a session, just tell me and I'll do it.
She smiled wryly. Hotshot surgeon James, licking stamps and wielding a feather duster? Surreal. Though she knew he meant it.
There's a cheque in the other envelope. I'm not trying to be flash or buy you off, it's just the only thing I know how to do. And it will buy you training for volunteers. I hope that will go some way to making up the time you've missed this week.
Quickly, she ripped open the second envelope. There was a cheque, written out to the centre. She blinked at the size of it: this really would make a difference.
It was probably small change to a man like James, a man from such a wealthy background.
Then again, he'd been under no obligation to do this.
She turned back to the letter.
I miss you more than I ever thought was possible. There's a big hole in my life shaped like you, and I don't know how to begin to fill it because nobody else will do.
There was a lump in her throat as she read on.
But I understand that you want me to stay away, and I'll respect your wishes. I hope you find happiness in the future; I just wish it could have been with me.
She dragged in a breath and Pandora leaped onto her lap, purring.
'He misses me, Pandora.' And, if she was honest with herself, she missed him.
Pandora purred, as if saying that she did, too.
'And he sent me the cheque privately. He didn't have an art department mock up a gigantic cheque on featherboard and get the press there to take photographs and splash the story about. So he must have listened to what I said. He's trying to show me that he can do something good without being flashy.' She bit her lip. 'I was a bit hard on him.' Because she'd been so angry. And because she hadn't been honest with him before the ball, told him exactly why she didn't want publicity, he wouldn't have a clue why she was so angry. 'I think I owe him an explanation.'
The cat purred her agreement.
'I could ring him...but I think this is the kind of conversation I need to have face to face with him.' She paused. 'I'm sorry for deserting you again this evening, but I really ought to go and see him.'
Pandora simply rubbed against her and jumped off her lap, as if saying that she understood.
Charlotte checked the cat's water dish and put some extra biscuits in Pandora's food bowl.
When she opened the front door, to her relief, the paparazzi were nowhere to be seen. All the same, she took a circuitous route when she drove over to the waterside development where James lived.
Her heart was beating so hard as she walked up the steps to his front door, she was sure people must be able to hear it. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell. Hopefully James was in---and would answer.
James thought about ignoring the doorbell---he wasn't expecting anyone and he wasn't in the mood for visitors---but then it rang again. Clearly whoever was out there wasn't going to give up.
When he opened the front door, he blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. But when he looked again she was still there.
'Charlotte?'
'May I come in?' she asked quietly.
'Sure.'
She waited until he'd closed the door behind them. 'I got your letter. And the cheque.'
'Good.'
'Thank you.'
'Pleasure.'
'And I owe you an apology.' She took a deep breath. 'Look, I know I've given you a hard time this week. I guess I overreacted.'
He shrugged. 'Yes and no. You had a point---I do thrive on the attention of the press, probably because I've always been used to it. I never realised how intrusive it could be.'
'It wasn't just that.' She bit her lip. 'I didn't want the press dragging up stuff about me.'
'Stuff?'
'About my past.'
James had a nasty feeling that he knew what she was going to tell him, and he didn't want to hear it. He hated the idea that someone had hurt her. 'Charlotte, you don't have to confide in me.'
'Actually, I do. I should've trusted you before. Because then you'd have understood why I didn't want the national press there. I wasn't being shy, James. I don't want everyone at the hospital to stop seeing me as I am.'
He frowned. 'I'm not with you. Why would they do that?'
'It's messy.' She swallowed. 'And I don't usually talk about it.'
'I'd pretty much worked out that something had happened to you,' James said quietly. 'So you don't have to tell me. It's why you were so wary of me when you first met me, and why you set up the centre. I can understand that.' He sighed. 'And I was so busy trying to do something to support you, I blocked out the fact that any publicity might pick up on your past and use it to hurt you.'
'I told Steffie it happened to someone else.' She bit her lip. 'Which it did. I was a different person then.'
'Of course that kind of experience would change you.' He raked a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the discussion and not wanting to drag up memories that hurt her. 'Look, do you want a coffee or something?'
She shook her head. 'But I do need to be honest with you. I, um, haven't dated since...' She hesitated, as if she couldn't bear to speak the words. 'You were the first man I kissed,' she said eventually. 'The first man I even considered sleeping with.'
'And I let you down.'
She grimaced. 'You weren't in possession of all the facts.'
It was a more generous assessment than he felt he deserved.
'If I'd trusted you with the truth about me, would you have involved the nationals?' she asked.
He knew she was expecting him to say no. But she was being honest with him. He needed to be equally as straight with her. 'Actually, I probably would,' he said. 'But I would've handled it differently. We would've stayed in the background, as the organisers. And I would've talked to you properly about it beforehand, asked you if you wanted me to mention anything about the centre.'
'You would have listened to me?'
'Yes. And I'm sorry for not listening before, for assuming that you were just hiding your light under a bushel and carrying on regardless.'
She swallowed hard. 'That's what Michael did.'
'Michael?' The use of the name shocked him. 'You knew the guy?'
'Most vict---' She stopped short, shaking her head viciously. 'No. I'm not a victim. I'm not going to let him make me think that way about myself. But, yeah, most people know their attackers.' She dragged in a breath. 'We'd dated a couple of times. I thought he was a nice guy. Charming, good-looking.'
James really didn't like where this was heading. Terms that people had used about him, too.
'Then one night we went out dancing.'
Just what he'd made her do. Dance with him. In front of a crowd. He loved the glittery, sparkly events and he'd thought she'd find them as much fun as he did. Yet, all the time, he'd been twisting the knife---and Charlotte had been fighting the bad memories in private.
'He took me home, and I thought he was just going to kiss me goodnight and leave, but he started pushing me. I said no and he...' She shuddered and wrapped her arms round herself. 'He didn't listen. And he was bigger than I was. I couldn't fight him off.'
James didn't know what to say. Or do. He'd never been in a situation like this, and he really didn't want to make things harder for her. He'd already hurt her enough. The only thing he could do was act on his instincts and be honest, so he closed the gap between them and put his arms round her. 'I know this is probably inappropriate. But I don't know what to say or do,' he said. 'Other than that I want to beat him to a pulp for hurting you, and I want to hold you and protect you and make sure nobody ever hurts you again.'
'I don't need to be wrapped up in cotton wool. I just want to be treated decently.'
'I hope you know that I'd never...' He searched frantically for the right words, not wanting to make the situation harder for her.
'I know you wouldn't.' Her voice shuddered. 'But I never talk about it because I don't want people to look at me in pity. Or to whisper and wonder if I led him on.'
He pulled back just far enough for her to be able to see his eyes---to know that he was telling her the truth. 'I don't pity you and I know that you didn't lead him on. Nobody who knows you would ever pity you or make insinuations---sympathise, yes, but not look down on you.' He dragged in a breath. 'I'm sorry that you had to go through something so horrible, and I hate the thought of anyone treating you like that. But I admire the way you've held it together---and my guess is that anyone who works with you would see things the way I do. They'll be on your side.'
'I wasn't very together at the time,' she admitted. 'I felt so grubby. So disgusting.'
'You're not disgusting. You're brave and you're beautiful,' he said. 'So you told the police?'
She nodded. 'And I waived my right to anonymity. So it was in the papers.'
And she'd done that, knowing that the gutter press would try to dig up scandal? 'I take back what I said about brave. More like superhumanly courageous.'
'I just wanted to stop him doing it to anyone else,' she said simply. 'And the only way to do that, to get him the help he needed, was to...' Her breath hitched. 'I was so desperate for a shower. But I knew if I did, I'd get rid of the...of the evidence.'
He drew her closer. 'You don't have to tell me anything more.'
She was shivering. 'I do. I need this to be in the open, or w're Enot going to be able to move on from here. And I want to move on, James. I need to get past this. To go on with the rest of my life.'
With him?
He really, really hoped so.
'It took me a while to call the police. I was shaking so hard I couldn't dial the number. They came straight out, and they...they examined me. Questioned me.' She shuddered. 'I was lucky, because they believed me. One thing about having fair skin, you bruise easily.'
'The bastard,' James said, feeling his fists clench involuntarily. And he really, really wanted to give the guy back every single bruise he'd given Charlotte. With interest.
'He needed help. People don't behave like that unless they're really damaged.'
'You've got a more generous spirit than I have. I'd want the guy locked up and the key thrown away.'
'I wanted that, too,' she admitted. 'I'm only human. But I've had counselling, and I'm in a place now where I can help others. And that's why I wanted to set up the crisis centre. Because I've been there. I've come out the other side, and I want to help other people come out the other side, too.'
'I understand that now. And I really admire you for doing it. Doesn't it bring it all back to you, when you talk to women who've been in your situation?'
'Sort of, but it's slowly losing its power to hurt me.' She rested her forehead against his chest. 'There's still part of me that feels unclean. Even though I scrubbed my skin until it bled after the police had been. And that's why I don't date.'
He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. 'You're not unclean. You're strong and you're brave and you're gorgeous. And I'm humbled that you've trusted me with this. I'm not going to mention it to anyone---not because I pity you or think you led the guy on,' he added, just to underline the point, 'but because I respect your right to privacy. And if I'd had any idea, I would never, ever have put you in a situation like this.'
'I've been reading the papers every day. Just waiting for them to...to put two and two together and bring it all up again.'
And, unlike him, she hadn't grown up with media attention. Being its focus, like this, must be hell for her. 'If it makes you feel any better, according to Great! magazine, you wouldn't have sex with me if I was the last man on earth. They're enjoying playing with that far too much to spend time digging up any dirt on you.'
She pulled back to look him in the eye. 'So they're being nasty about you?'
He gave a half-shrug. 'They've done it before. I'll live.' She didn't need to know that they'd run pictures of Sophia draped over various European hunks, all of whom she'd found preferable to him during their marriage. 'They'll have photos of someone else next week---someone who drank too much at a party or was a bit indiscreet on the beach---and that will be the new story. Everyone will forget about us.'
'I hope so.' She bit her lip. 'It's horrible when the whole hospital's talking about you.'
He remembered people poring over the gossip magazines to get the next installment of the disaster of his marriage, the guilt on their faces and the way they'd hidden the magazines quickly when he'd walked into the room. The way that everywhere would go silent, and he'd known that they'd been discussing the mess of his so-called private life.
And no doubt it had been even worse for her. He at least was used to publicity and people talking about his family, whereas Charlotte was much more private. Professional, smiley---and kept her personal life completely under wraps. 'Yeah. I know,' he said softly, stroking her hair back from her forehead. 'And I'm sorry I've made it worse for you.'
'You didn't do it on purpose.'
'No. And I'd give a lot to be able to turn back time and change things.' He paused. 'But one thing I wouldn't change is coming to Cornwall. Meeting you.' He cupped her face briefly. 'You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I know I let you down, but if you give me the chance I'd like to make it up to you.'
'That letter...you really meant it, didn't you?'
He nodded. 'It went through quite a few drafts. Even that one sounded wrong. As if I was trying to be smooth and smarm my way out of things. I know you think I'm flashy---'
'You are flashy,' she cut in dryly. 'I bet you used an expensive fountain pen.'
'Yes, and it was a twenty-first present from my grandmother.' He smiled ruefully. 'I don't know if I can change all the glitzy stuff. But, for you, I'll try.'
'A new start.'
He nodded. 'Look...I know this is going to sound completely inappropriate, but it's not how I mean it. Have you eaten yet tonight?'
'No.'
'Neither have I. There's salad in the fridge. How about I order a pizza to be delivered? Nothing flashy. Just you and me, spending a little time together.'
'I'd like that,' she said, and her smile made him feel warm for the first time in days.
She opted for mineral water rather than wine---seeing as she'd be driving back to her place later---and James was chopping vegetables for the salad when the doorbell went.
'Do you want me to get that?' she asked.
'If you don't mind. I paid by credit card, so you don't have to worry about paying.'
Charlotte walked downstairs, opened the front door---and slammed it again in horror. Because it wasn't the pizza delivery boy---there was a sea of paparazzi. Cameras flashing, people all talking at once at top volume and thrusting microphones towards her.
James must have heard the door slam, because he came straight down into the hall. 'What's the matter?'
'Press.'
He groaned. 'Charlotte, I'm so sorry. I have no idea how they knew you were here.'
'Maybe one of them was outside when I arrived, and I didn't notice.'
'They'll have staked out the back, too.'
'Then how am I going to get home?'
He sighed. 'I think w're Ejust going to have to wait them out.'
'I...Are you suggesting I stay the night?' Panic skittered through her. Yes, she was attracted to him---but she wasn't sure that she was ready to skip a few steps and stay overnight at his place.
He took her hand. 'Look at me, Charlotte.'
She did so.
'I promise you, I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm attracted to you and I want to---well, court you, I suppose. So I'm not going to take advantage of the situation. We'll take things at your pace.'
The doorbell went again. 'I'll deal with this. Go into the kitchen and close the door,' James directed. 'They won't hassle you there.'
She headed for the kitchen, and he appeared a few minutes later carrying a box. 'Pizza,' he said with a smile.
'James, I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I could eat anything now.' She closed her eyes. 'Telling you as much as I did about my past, and now this...I'm not hungry any more.'
'Trust me, the carbs will make you feel better. If you let your blood sugar dip, you'll feel even worse.' He dished up. 'Help yourself to salad.'
She forced herself to take a couple of mouthfuls, to be polite. And, to her surprise, he was right. It did make her feel better.
When they'd finished, he said quietly, 'What I suggest we do now is sit down, listen to some music, and just ignore whatever's outside. They can't get in, they can't see into my living room---and eventually they'll realise they don't have a story and they'll go away.'
She let him lead her into his living room, and made no protest when he settled her on his lap, holding her close. Despite knowing what was outside, she felt safe here with James, and finally the stresses of the last week caught up with her and she fell asleep.
James had noticed the dark shadows under Charlotte's eyes. No doubt she'd slept as badly as he had, the last few days. He could always carry her down the stairs to his bed---but he very much doubted she'd continue sleeping through it. She wasn't a toddler. And if she woke while he were carrying her off, given her traumatic past...No, there was only one thing for it.
'Charlotte,' he said softly, stroking her cheek.
She murmured, and snuggled closer.
'Much as I would love to stay here like this,' he said, 'we'll both get a crick in our necks. The press isn't going away just yet, so why don't you grab a couple of hours' sleep on my bed?'
Her eyelids snapped open at that. 'Your bed.'
'I'll sleep in the spare room,' he said. 'But my bed's more comfortable, which is why I'm offering it to you.'
'I...'
'I'll stay with you until you fall asleep again,' he said. 'You'll be safe. It'll be fine.'
She shivered. 'If you're sure.'
'I'm sure.' He brushed his lips against her cheek. 'I did think about carrying you downstairs, but it's a bit too macho. Even for someone with an ego the size of Mars.'
'I apologised for that, a long time ago.'
He laughed. 'I know. I'm just teasing. Come on.' He gently urged her to her feet, then led her downstairs to his room. He pulled the duvet back for her.
'James, I...'
'It'll be more comfortable. And I'm staying above the quilt, OK? Just a nap. And we'll escape the press in a few hours' time.'
'Thank you,' she said quietly.
He settled the duvet round her, then lay next to her. Although he desperately wanted to hold her close, he was going to take this slowly. At her pace. Right now, the most important thing was for Charlotte to feel safe. Protected. By him.
THE next morning, Charlotte was woken by an alarm---an alarm that definitely wasn't hers.
She opened her eyes with a jolt, instantly aware that she was still in James's bed. And at almost the same moment she realised that James was still lying beside her. His body was curled round hers and his arm was draped over her, holding her close. A more intimate position than she'd been in with anyone for years.
'Good morning,' James said softly.
The weight of his arm lifted from her, and a moment or two later the shrill of the alarm clock stopped.
'Good morning.' She swallowed hard and turned onto her back, preparing to face him.
'Are you all right?' he asked.
'Yes,' she fibbed.
As if he guessed that, actually, she was incredibly nervous, he said quietly, 'I'm sorry. I honestly meant to go to the spare room as soon as you went to sleep, then wake you at three and drive you home myself. Except...' He smiled ruefully. 'I fell asleep, too. Luckily my alarm's a twenty-four-hour one or we'd both be late for work.'
'You must be freezing.' The duvet was still between them, so he'd had no covers over him during the night.
'It wasn't that cold last night. I'm OK.' He dismissed it with a smile.
He'd spent the night with her. Slept beside her.
But he hadn't taken advantage of her.
James Alexander really was the man she'd hoped he was. A man who'd keep his word. A man she could trust.
Charlotte shifted to her side, and curved her palm along his jaw. 'Thank you.'
'Why?' he asked.
'For being honourable.'
'Not all men are like the one who...' He stopped, clearly not wanting to voice it, and hurt her.
'Date-raped me.' At his widened eyes, she said quietly, 'I've come to terms with it, James. I've had counselling. I can say the word without flinching. I won't forget it, and I'm afraid I can't forgive it either---but I'm also not going to let it ruin the rest of my life.'
'I'm glad of that. I'm only sorry that I've exposed you to gossip and speculation.'
'It can't be as bad as when it actually happened,' Charlotte said. 'As you told me last night, if I think about it rationally, the people I work with are my friends. They know me. They'll be on my side.'
'Surely your coll---' He stopped abruptly.
'Michael worked at the hospital, too, in the finance department. And he was a charmer. Everyone liked him. People took sides.' She closed her eyes. 'Walking into work the next day...I was convinced everyone would know. And that he'd come onto the ward, pretending that nothing had happened.'
James drew her closer. 'Did he?'
'No. The police arrested him. But I had to face him in court, months later.' She shivered. 'He said what he did wasn't that bad because we'd been out together a few times and it was the next step in our relationship. He said he'd just rushed me a bit--- and I wasn't a virgin, so it wasn't as if he'd done anything that bad.'
'Yes, he bloody well had!' James said. 'He didn't have the right to make you do anything. I want to beat the guy to a pulp.'
'Apart from the fact that you need your hands in working order in Theatre, I don't somehow think the prison warders will let you do that,' she said dryly.
'So the jury convicted him?'
She shivered. 'I remember going to the sentencing and my solicitor holding my hand. I was so scared they'd blame me and he'd be let off, even though other women had come forward anonymously---they hadn't spoken up beforehand because they didn't think anyone would believe them. They thought he'd say they were trying to get revenge on him for dumping them.'
'I...Charlotte, I don't know what to say. I can't understand how a man could...It's just...' He shook his head in apparent disbelief.
'He was damaged, too. I had to remind myself he needed help to stop. Just as I needed help to come to terms with what happened.' She moved closer, needing James's warmth. 'They gave him seven years. And when it was all over, I just felt drained. I remembered coming to Penhally when I was a kid, staying with Uncle Nick and Aunt Annabel. I loved Cornwall. There's something about the sea, something healing about the beaches here. So I rang Nick and asked if I could come and stay. He found me a flat and this job came up at St Piran's.'
'And everything was fine until I interfered.'
'You were trying to do what you thought was the right thing.'
'And it was the wrong thing. I know that now. And I'm truly sorry.' He stroked her hair. 'It's a lot to ask, but if you could find it in you to forgive me, make a fresh start?'
She nodded. 'I have to admit, I missed you, too. Even when I was angry with you.'She paused. 'Maybe we can have dinner tonight.'
'I'd like that. A lot.' He looked steadily at her. 'Though there's something I need you to be clear about. You know what I do for a living. If we agree a time and a place, I can't promise to be on time and I can't promise that I won't stand you up.'
Charlotte knew immediately what he meant, though she had no idea why he was making the point. She already knew the situation. He'd been late for several of their dance lessons for the same reason. 'If one of your patients develops complications, of course you're not going to leave someone else to deal with it.'
'Though I'll give you as much warning as I can if I can't make it or I'm going to be late.'
'That goes for me, too,' she reminded him. 'I might get called to the children's ward or the special baby care unit. It's part and parcel of what we do, James. And it's pretty obvious: if you want to date someone who works regular hours, you don't date a medic.'
'I'm glad w're Eclear on that.' He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. 'We need to get ready for work. I'm afraid I can't do much about clean clothes, though you're welcome to a pair of my jeans and a shirt, if you want them. My bathroom's through that door over there, and I'll find you a clean towel and a new toothbrush.'
'Thanks, but I'd rather shower and change at home.' She grimaced. 'I just hate the idea of having a shower and then having to put dirty clothes back on. But I'll say yes please to the toothbrush. Very gratefully.'
'I'll sort it now. How about some breakfast? Coffee?'
She shook her head. 'I need to get going.'
'Pandora?' he guessed.
'She'll be OK---I left her plenty of water and I fed her before I decided to come and see you. And the catflap works on her microchip, so letting her in and out isn't a problem.' She bit her lip. 'But are the paparazzi still going to be waiting out there?'
'They'll think,' James said, 'that I drove you home at stupid o'clock in the morning to avoid them.'
Which had been the original plan.
'They won't think I've stayed the night?'
'If they're anything like the ones who usually trail me, they know I don't let anyone stay the night,' he said dryly, 'so there's no point in staying until breakfast.'
It took her a while to digest that. So James didn't let anyone that close? What about his reputation as a man who dated more women than she'd had hot dinners?
She already knew the answer. Press exaggeration.
So the fact James had allowed her closer than he normally allowed people...that was definite food for thought.
When she emerged from the bathroom after washing her face and cleaning her teeth, he smiled at her. 'I've checked outside and the coast's clear.'
'Thanks. And, um, thanks for last night.'
'My pleasure. I'll see you at work.'
She drove home, showered and changed, and then walked to work. For the first time in more than a week she greeted everyone with a smile that reached her eyes. She actually caught herself singing in the corridor on the way to the children's ward. And she regretted that she hadn't suggested to James that he should sit in on her operation that morning, closing a hole in a three-year-old boy's heart using a balloon on the end of a catheter. Although the operation still involved a general anaesthetic, it meant that the little boy didn't need to have openheart surgery involving having his heart stopped and being put on bypass, and he'd recover within a day and without scarring across his chest.
James caught up with her at lunchtime. 'Good morning?'
'ASD with a septal occluder in the cath lab,' she said. 'It worked, and little Barney's doing fine.'
'Next time you do one of those, I want to be nosy,'James said. She smiled. 'Next time, I'll invite you along.'
'Good.' He did a swift check to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. 'Dinner tonight. Anywhere in particular you'd like me to book?'
'My place, and I'm cooking,' she said. 'Because then we can talk without worrying about who's listening in and how many cameras are around.'
'Fair point,' he said. 'Half-seven?'
'Perfect.'
As always, James was on time, and Charlotte answered the door very quickly.
'I don't think I was followed,' James said. 'I took the long way round, just in case. But I think we've finished being a nine days' wonder.'
'Good,' Charlotte said feelingly.
'I was going to bring you flowers, but was I was terrified of getting it wrong and making you think I was being flashy.'
'A small bunch of flowers,' Charlotte said with a grin, 'is perfectly acceptable. Just not a whole florist's.'
He handed her a carrier bag that contained two bottles of wine and some seriously good chocolate. 'I hope these are OK. I didn't know whether to bring red or white, so I brought both.'
And both were much posher than the wine she normally bought. She squeezed his hand. 'James, you're trying too hard---and you only needed to bring yourself. This is just supper, like you've had here before. Nothing that fussy. Come and sit down. Dinner will be about another ten minutes.'
The second that James was sitting on the sofa, Pandora leapt onto his lap, settled herself, and started purring.
'Given her background, I think I'm flattered,' James said, stroking the cat.
It was the most relaxed evening she'd spent with him since the evening before the ball, and it was only when she offered James another coffee that he looked at the clock. 'It's getting late. I really ought to be going---so, regretfully, I'd better say no to the coffee.'
She saw him to the door.
'Thank you for this evening. I really enjoyed it,' he said. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then back to her eyes---as if asking permission.
'James,' she said softly. 'If you want to kiss me goodnight, then kiss me.'
'I want to. But I don't want to rush you, do anything you're uncomfortable with.'
She smiled wryly. 'Says the man who brought me pain au chocolat and then licked chocolate from my mouth. In my office. When anyone could've walked in.'
'If I'd known what had happened to you, I would never have pushed you like that.'
'So what's the difference now? You said that what I told you didn't change the way you saw me.'
'It hasn't. I still think you're incredibly gorgeous.'
'A week ago, you wouldn't have hesitated. So knowing about Michael has changed things.'
'In a way.' He looked serious. 'Charlotte, as long as you know that I'm listening to you---and if you say stop, I'll stop immediately---'
She smiled at him. 'James, just shut up and kiss me.'
She slid her hands behind his neck, drew his face down to hers, and brushed her mouth against his.
He responded instantly, letting her deepen the kiss and wrapping his arms round her so she was left in no doubt of his physical arousal yet at the same time keeping his tough light and unthreatening.
When the kiss finally ended, he asked softly, 'OK?'
'Very OK.'
'Good.' He touched his mouth briefly to hers. 'Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow.'
Over the next few days, Charlotte and James spent more time together outside work---to the point where it was as if the ball had never happened. Somehow they'd managed to recapture their old easiness, even though Charlotte was very aware that James was being careful with her and just the tiniest bit overprotective.
At the weekend, they explored the local coast and found a quiet, practically deserted beach; as they walked along the shoreline, barefooted and holding hands, James finally opened up to her.
'Before you, my life was a mess,' he said. 'I really crashed and burned with Sophia.'
Sensing that he needed to tell her, the way she'd told him about what had happened with Michael, she just squeezed his hand and listened.
'She was part of my crowd. My family knew hers, and I guess I thought she was my type.' He smiled wryly. 'Tall, slender and beautiful, with this cloud of dark hair. On paper we were suited, with similar backgrounds and what have you.'
Charlotte could hear the 'but', and voiced it.
He sighed. 'I'm a doctor. Yes, I've chosen a flashy specialty and I love the challenges of my job---but I do it because I want to make people better. I want to make a difference to people's lives. And that's what Sophia couldn't understand---that my patients come before my social life and always will. She wanted me to have a clinic in Harley Street and work nine to five.' He grimaced. 'Actually, I think she wanted me to change specialties. Go into plastics, like your cousin Jack.'
'And that's not what you wanted?'
'No. If I had gone into plastics, I would've wanted to do what he did. Specialise in burns. I mean, of course there are good reasons why people need cosmetic surgery. The boy who gets bullied at school because his ears stick out, so he wants them pinned back to make him less of a target; the girl who's so selfconscious about her nose that she can't bring herself to date or believe that someone would want her. Sure.' He sighed. 'Though even then I'd say one of the talking treatments would help more, because a few surface changes aren't going to be enough to repair psychological damage. But Sophia wasn't thinking about that sort of plastics. She was thinking more along the lines of face lifts and botox---I think she liked the idea of me being plastic surgeon to the celebs, and then she could add my patients to her social circle.'
'Ouch.'
He shrugged. 'If I was late for a party or something---and I admit, I often was---she'd flounce off and hit the shops until she'd spent her way out of a bad mood, or she'd fly off somewhere for a few days to chill out. With Dad owning the hotel chain, she was assured of the best suites in the best hotels in the most fashionable cities.'
Privately, Charlotte felt that James's ex sounded as if she needed to grow up.
'Marrying her was the biggest mistake of my life. I think I knew that even on our wedding day. It was a bit on the glitzy side, even for me. Her wedding dress was more catwalk than bride, and...' he grimaced '...although she insisted on tight security and had a hissy fit when unofficial pictures appeared in the gossip magazines, I think she enjoyed all the attention.'
Attention that Charlotte most definitely didn't.
'But I wasn't the husband she needed. I put my job before her, and I didn't try hard enough to make the marriage work,' James said.
'It takes two to make a marriage,' Charlotte reminded him softly.
'But it wasn't all her fault. I didn't meet her expectations. And she decided that if I wasn't going to give her the attention she wanted, she'd find it elsewhere.' He sighed. 'The first thing I knew about it was when I saw the pictures in Great! magazine. Topless, on my father's yacht, draped over an up-and-coming Italian model. The exposure...' he gave a wry smile at the pun '...was good for his career. And it did me a favour, really. It made me realise that this wasn't how I wanted to live, and something had to change.'
'So you got divorced?'
'That was the problem, You have to be married for a year before you can be divorced.'
'How long had you been married?' she asked gently.
'Six months.' He blew out a breath. 'I had to wait it out and try to ignore the men she flaunted in the gossip rags. And I swore I'd never get involved with anyone again.'
She regarded their joined hands. 'Hmm. Not involved.'
'You're different,' he said. 'I knew you were different, the first moment I met you. And the more I get to know you, the more I realise...' He stopped.
'Realise what?'
He shook his head. 'Later. Anyway, thanks for listening.'
'No problem. And thank you for trusting me. It goes without saying that I'm not going to betray your confidence.'
He gave a half-shrug. 'I think you've taught me how to trust. You opened up to me first. Made yourself vulnerable. So I feel safe with you.'
She tightened her fingers round his. 'I feel safe with you, too,' she whispered.
On Wednesday, while Charlotte was working at the surgery, Nick dropped in to see her at lunchtime. 'How's it going?' he asked.
'Really good.' She smiled at him. 'I'm helping people, Nick---and it's helping me leave the past behind.'
'Uh-huh.'
She looked at him and frowned. 'You've got shadows under your eyes. Do you want to go out for a sandwich or something?'
'I'm fine. Just...things on my mind,' Nick hedged.
'You know,' Charlotte said quietly, 'Annabel would be furious with you for letting yourself be unhappy like this. Whatever's eating at you, Nick, maybe it's time to let it go. I've done that myself, and it's incredible how much better it made me feel.'
Nick wasn't sure whether anything could make him feel better. Or how he could let the past go. He'd betrayed Annabel with his first love, on one of the darkest nights of his life. And he'd gone on to make Kate miserable by refusing to recognise who Jem really was---though how could he do that without risking his newly fixed relationship with his grown-up children?
As for Kate herself...Guilt ripped at him. He hadn't exactly been supportive during her illness, had he? True, she'd pushed him away. But every time he'd tried, he'd seen Rob there. Looking tenderly at her. Being there for her. Hell, the man was even living with Kate now. Nick had seen them on the beach together---Kate, Jem, Rob and Matt---and they looked like a proper family.
He ought to just leave her be. Let her go and have her chance of happiness with Rob.
And yet...
'Nick?' Charlotte said softly. 'If you want an ear---someone who won't judge you or argue or push you---you know where I am.'
'I do. Thank you.' He forced a smile to her face. 'Well, I'd better let you get on.'
'Sure you don't fancy lunch at the Smugglers'?' Charlotte asked.
'Thanks, but I'll pass.' He paused. 'James...he's being all right to you? Not pushing you?'
'He's fine.' Charlotte's smile was full of tenderness. Of love. And Nick was pretty sure where her relationship was going.
The same way that everyone else's seemed to.
Except his own.
The first Saturday in October, Charlotte rang James. 'Are you busy?'
'Not particularly. Why?'
'There's something I want to show you. I'll come and pick you up.'
'Why don't I come and pick you up?' he asked.
'Because it's a surprise, and I want to drive.'
'You could always drive the Aston,' he suggested.
'Really?'
'I put your name on the insurance. So if you want to...'
'Oh, yes!'
He laughed. 'You sound like a kid in a sweetshop. I'm on my way now.'
When he rang the doorbell and handed her the keys to the Aston Martin, Charlotte beamed at him. She drove immensely carefully at first, and James teased, 'You're allowed to go up to the speed limit, you know.'
'Very funny.' But she relaxed after that, and seemed to be enjoying handling the car as much as he did. And he loved seeing the sheer pleasure on her face.
Pleasure he'd like to see there for another reason.
But he'd keep himself in check until she was ready.
'So where are we going?' he asked.
'There and back, to see how far it is.'
'What?'
'That's what my parents always used to tell me,' she said. 'Funnily enough, they used to say it on this very stretch of road.'
James recognised the route to Penhally. 'W're Egoing to see Jack? Your uncle?'
'Neither.' She parked outside a large, slightly ramshackle house. 'W're Egoing to see some friends of mine.'
A very pretty woman with golden hair opened the door and greeted Charlotte with a hug. 'Charlotte, cara, it's lovely to see you---and you won't believe how much they've grown!'
Grown? James was completely lost. Who or what had grown?
'James, this is Melinda Lovak---she's the one who rescued Pandora and introduced her to me,' Charlotte said. 'Melinda, this is James Alexander.'
'Pleased to meet you,' James said politely. And then he frowned. 'Don't I know you from somewhere?'
Melinda rolled her eyes. 'Probably the same place as I know you. Great! magazine.'
It suddenly clicked. 'Princess Melinda Fortescue.' The heiress to the principality of Contarini.
'Mrs Melinda Lovak nowadays,' she corrected with a warm smile. 'Lovely to meet you too, James. Come in. Dragan and Alessandro are out in the garden.'
Charlotte took his hand and they followed Melinda through the huge old-fashioned kitchen to the garden.
There, in the middle of the lawn, a toddler sat next to a black flatcoat retriever, and climbing all over both of them were six puppies, three black and three brown. A tall, darkhaired man was chatting to the little boy; he looked up as Melinda, Charlotte and James joined them.
Charlotte introduced them quickly. 'Dragan, this is James. James, this is Dragan and Alessandro.'
Dragan and James gave each other a slightly wary nod.
Charlotte exclaimed in delight at the pups. 'Look at them---I can't believe how huge they're getting! Dare I ask why they have little bits of wool round their necks?'
'So we can tell them apart,' Dragan explained. 'The wool's really soft, so it doesn't hurt them; it breaks easily if they chew it or get it caught on something, and we can replace it as the pups grow.'
'So I assume this one's a girl.' Charlotte knelt down and scooped up a black puppy with a bright pink thread around its neck.
'Er, no. Alessandro chose the colours,'Melinda said, smiling. 'That one's a boy.'
James just stared, utterly enchanted. Especially when the pup promptly licked Charlotte's face and she laughed.
'They're gorgeous,' James breathed, including Charlotte in the description.
'Aren't they just?' Dragan stroked the dog's head. 'My Bramble's done really well.'
'I'm horribly envious,' James confessed. A houseful of puppies. Something he'd desperately wanted as a child, but there had never been time.
'Pick one up and have a cuddle,' Melinda said. 'We need to socialise them. The more people they meet and have a fuss with, the better.'
James needed no second invitation. 'When I was a kid, I always wanted a black dog called Dylan who'd go everywhere with me.'
'I had a dog like that when I was a boy,' Dragan said, 'and now I have Bramble.'
'Bam-bam,'Alessandro said, beaming and stroking the dog. 'Zando loves Bam-bam.' He grinned at them, clearly pleased with himself. 'Look, puppies!'
'"Dog" was his second word,' Melinda said dryly. '"Dada", of course, being the first.'
What would it be like to have a little boy looking up to you, calling you Dada? James wondered, and settled himself on the lawn next to the little boy. How much he'd like something like this in the future. To live in an old rambling place, instead of a gleaming modern townhouse that looked as if it belonged in a photo shoot and was definitely a house rather than a home. He could imagine coming home at the end of a hard day to his children and puppies and someone he loved so much he'd walk to the end of the world and back for her---someone who'd feel that same way about him.
His gaze connected with Charlotte's, and he had to look away, not wanting her to see the longing in his soul and be scared off.
Because he knew exactly who that person was, the one for whom he'd walk to the end of the world and back.
Charlotte.
'Come and help me make some drinks, Charlotte,' Melinda said. 'We'll leave the boys to play with the puppies.'
Charlotte smiled at her. 'Sure.'
In the kitchen, Melinda and Charlotte watched Dragan, James, Alessandro and the pups.
'Children and animals,' Melinda said quietly. 'It looks to me as if he's good with both. Bramble likes him, so I'd be happy for him to have one of the pups.'
'Thank you.'
Melinda smiled at Charlotte. 'Did you remember to bring the blanket I asked you about?'
The blanket---a thirty-centimetre square of soft fleece---was for the pup to lie on and would then go with him to his new home, so he had a familiar scent to help him settle in. Charlotte took it from her shoulder bag and handed it to Melinda. 'I haven't said anything to James, yet---I'm planning a surprise.' One that she knew he'd love; watching him play with the pups and chat to Dragan and Alessandro, as well as hearing him talk about his boyhood dreams, had shown her how much James would love a dog in his life. And from what he'd told her on the beach, she had a feeling that he'd want to stay in Cornwall now. Go for a less glitzy but much fuller life.
'So things are better now between you?' Melinda asked.
Charlotte nodded. 'We've talked. We understand each other. And Pandora even curls up on his lap.'
'That's real progress.' Melinda paused. 'I know it's been tough, but don't let the paparazzi come between you, Charlotte. Dragan and I nearly did, and we would've regretted it for the rest of our lives.'
Charlotte knew Melinda was right.
And she also knew that it was time to move her relationship with James on a step further.
Starting tonight.
LATER that evening, James cooked dinner back at his house---chicken breasts stuffed with Brie and wrapped in bacon, served with new potatoes and steamed green beans, followed by raspberries and rich vanilla ice cream.
'Bliss,' Charlotte said when they'd finished. 'If you ever get bored with being a surgeon...'
He grinned. 'What, you're offering me a job as your personal cook?'
She laughed. 'I'm not sure I could afford your rates.'
'We could always negotiate.' He took her hand. 'Come and sit down.'
She ended up sitting on his lap, cuddled into him, and she could feel the beat of his heart against the palm of her hand, strong and steady. Like the man himself.
She knew what she wanted.
Only...not here.
And to say it outright felt too tacky. So she picked a more oblique way. 'James, sorry to be a pain, but I'm feeling a bit...you know...Do you mind if I go home?'
He masked his disappointment quickly, though Charlotte was gratified to notice it.
'Of course. I'll drive you back.'
'And I, um, need to stop at the supermarket on the way. You know, for, um...supplies.'
She knew full well what he'd think, but she had something else entirely in mind.
'Sure,' he said.
As he drove into the supermarket car park, he asked, 'Do you want me to go in and get them for you? And have you got paracetamol and a hot-water bottle?'
Her heart warmed. Despite his flashy exterior, James was a good man at heart. A thoughtful man. And tonight was going to be...special. 'I'd rather get the stuff myself, if you don't mind. I won't be long.'
Once back at her house, James insisted on seeing her to her door---just as she knew he would.
'Would you like to come in?' she asked.
He frowned. 'I thought you were feeling a bit rough?'
'You can still come in for a few minutes. If you'd like to.'
He smiled ruefully. 'I'm selfish enough to want a bit more time with you---so, yes, please. I've really enjoyed today and I loved seeing the puppies. A coffee would be nice, if you're sure that's OK.'
She closed the door behind them. 'I'm not planning to make coffee right now.' She paused. 'But I'll make you some tomorrow morning, if you like. With pain au chocolat.'
He stared at her. 'Charlotte, are you saying what I think you're saying?'
'Uh-huh.'
'But I thought you...?'
'A little bit of misdirection.' She felt her face heat. 'I just wanted the first time to be here. Not on the eye-watering tones of your duvet.'
He folded his arms in mock indignation. 'There's nothing wrong with it. Those are Mediterranean colours, I'll have you know.'
'And this is Cornwall,' she pointed out.
'Which is the nearest this country's climate gets to the Mediterranean...' His teasing smile faded. 'Charlotte, I really wasn't expecting this. I don't have anything with me. I'm not prepared.'
'I am. That's why I asked you to stop at the supermarket.'
'I thought you were feeling rough because your period was due any time now.'
'I know.' She stroked his face. 'But I could hardly say to you in the car that I wanted to go to bed with you---could I?'
He actually quivered.
'Whereas, here...Come to bed with me, James.'
He swallowed hard. 'Are you sure about this?'
Oh, hell. She'd miscalculated this. Badly. He was obviously trying to let her down gently. She wrapped her arms round herself, mortified and wishing she'd kept her mouth shut. 'Sorry. I presumed.'
'No.' He shook his head frantically. 'No, no, no, no, no. It's got nothing to do with me not wanting to go to bed with you. I do. I just want to be sure you don't feel pressured.'
'I feel safe with you.'
He leaned over and brushed his mouth against hers. 'Charlotte, if you're sure, then I'd like nothing more than to make love with you, right now. But I also want to make it clear that if you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me and I stop.' His gaze held hers. 'And that means at any point, Charlotte. Even if w're Eskin to skin. Even if I'm inside you.'
James. Inside her. The thought made her heart skitter.
And he'd be prepared to stop at such a point, regardless of his own discomfort?
'Thank you,' she said quietly.
'Though I'm definitely feeling the pressure,' he admitted. 'I just hope I can live up to your expectations and make it good for you.'
It was her turn to kiss him lightly. 'Sex is supposed to be fun, James.' The last time for her had been a painful ordeal. But she knew that James would change all that. He'd make some new memories with her, to wipe out the bad ones. 'So let's just enjoy this. Let's draw a line through my past---and yours. I'm not Sophia, and you're not Michael.'
He took her hand and drew it up to his mouth, making her knees go weak. 'That's true. Take me to bed, Charlotte.'
She led him upstairs to her room.
James wasn't surprised to discover that Charlotte's bedroom was as calm and restful as Charlotte herself: decorated in tones of duck-egg blue, eau-de-nil and white. Her double bed had a wrought-iron frame, painted white.
She switched on the bedside light---one that clearly had several levels of brightness, as it was bright enough for him to see her face and be aware of her responses, but not so bright as to be overpowering---and closed the curtains.
And then, slowly, she walked over towards him.
She'd been close to him before. She'd waltzed with him. Kissed him. Sat on his lap. Spent the night with him---albeit with a duvet chastely between them.
But this was different.
The ultimate closeness.
The first time she'd made love since Michael.
She'd chosen a man who'd dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. And he thought he was feeling the pressure?
Charlotte's fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, too shaky to undo them.
Gently, he lifted her hands to his mouth. Kissed each finger in turn. 'We can stop any time you like,' he reassured her again.
'I know, and it's not that. It's...' How could she explain, without sounding ridiculous or needy? And it wasn't that she was putting herself down: she was comfortable in her own skin. She just wanted this to be perfect. Which was crazy: how could a first time be perfect? 'It's been a while for me,' she said.
'It doesn't matter. Tonight w're Egoing to learn a bit more about each other. Discover what each other likes. It's going to be a journey of pleasure, Charlotte. And we can take as long as we like, stop when we like. No rush, no pressure. Just you and me.' He pressed a feather-light kiss against her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her cheekbones. Reassuring her. 'You know what?' he said. 'I've just had a brilliant idea.'
'What?'
'You're the captain of the quiz team. So it's a fair bet you have a trivia game.'
'Ye-es.' Where was he going with this?
'Go and get it,' he said. 'Because I'm going to challenge you.'
She felt her eyes widen in surprise. 'Challenge me?'
'Uh-huh. Except w're Echanging a couple of the rules, and w're Enot going to play on a board---just the cards will do.'
'What kind of rules?' she asked.
'If you get the question right, you can take off an item of my clothing. If I get the question right, I can take off an item of yours.'
'Strip trivia?'
'With a twist,' he confirmed, smiling.
She fetched the trivia game from the cupboard in her living room and handed it over to him.
He took a set of quiz cards from the box. 'Right. I'll go first.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm the guest, and you have to be polite to me.'
She knew exactly what he was doing---and she loved him for it.
Loved him, full stop.
He got the first question right. 'That's a shoe to me,' he said.
She allowed him to remove her left shoe, and copied his choice when she got her question right.
He opted for a shoe with his second question, as did she; but he got the third question wrong. Deliberately, she was sure. To reassure her that they'd take this at her speed.
Though she was ready for this. She knew this was the right thing, for both of them. So when she got her third question right, she smiled at him. 'That's your shirt.'
He spread his hands. 'Take it.'
She reached out to undo the buttons of his shirt, and this time her fingers did as they were told. She tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, flattened her palms against his chest, and then burst out laughing.
'What?'
'You're always so perfectly groomed---I suppose a bit of me wondered whether you'd wax your chest,' she confessed.
He laughed. 'I'm really not that vain, Charlotte.'
'No?' She ruffled his perfectly groomed hair. 'That's better---James, you're so perfect that it makes you a bit...well, scary.'
'I think there was a compliment buried under that lot,' he said. 'But perfect...no, I'm just a man.' He looked at her. 'Your man,' he amended softly. 'If you want me.'
Her mouth went dry. 'I do.'
'Good. Hold that thought.' He won the next question. 'Your T-shirt, I think. May I?' At her nod, his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her T-shirt and stroked her midriff. She remembered seeing his surgeon's hands at work, deft and precise---and she really wanted to feel those hands against her body, feel them coaxing a response from her. Slowly, he bunched the soft cotton upwards, stroking her skin as he did so. 'Your skin's so soft, Charlotte. You feel beautiful. You are beautiful,' he said, his voice quiet and intense, as he removed her T-shirt completely. He traced the lacy outline of her bra with a fingertip. 'I like this. It's pretty.' He pushed the straps down, and nuzzled the bare skin of her shoulders. 'Mmm, you taste nice.' He breathed in her scent. 'You smell nice, too.'
'Uh, I thought this was one question, one item of clothing removed?'
'Rule change, as of now,' he said. 'You're allowed to touch the skin you uncover.'
'Strictly speaking,' she said, 'you're cheating---because you moved my bra straps and you hadn't actually won the question to do that.'
'Guilty as charged.' He spread his hands. 'So I guess that's your choice of forfeit.'
Her heart rate speeded up a notch. 'A kiss.'
He tilted her chin up towards him with his index finger and kissed her lightly; she closed her eyes as his lips traced a path along the curve of her throat, and she tipped her head back, giving him access. He found the pulse beating madly at the base of her neck and lingered there a while before tracing a slow exploratory path along the sensitive curve of her neck.
'Forfeit paid in full,' she said shakily.
He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, straightened up and smiled at her. 'Pity. I'll have to do some more cheating, I think.'
He lost his jeans in the next round, and her mouth went dry. She lost her jeans next, but she couldn't think straight enough to work on the next question.
'Your bra, I think,' he said, and unclipped it with one hand.
'That,' she said, 'was a bit smooth.'
He grinned. 'Blame it on my misspent youth.'
She could believe it. James Alexander had probably charmed every female within a ten-mile radius from the moment of his first smile.
'But there are two things you should know about me,' he said. 'Firstly, I'm never, ever unfaithful. And, secondly, whatever the gossip rags claim about me, I'm a bit fussy about who I go to bed with.'
'I'm glad to hear it. I'm fussy, too.'
He traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. 'So that makes two of us with high standards.' He let her bra fall to the floor and gave a sharp intake of breath. 'Charlotte, you're incredibly beautiful.' He cupped her breasts and teased her hardening nipples with the pads of his thumbs. He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, teased it with his tongue and his teeth until she shivered; then he stopped. 'OK?' His voice was full of concern.
'More than OK,' she whispered, knowing that she could trust him.
'I'm not entirely sure either of us is going to get another question right,' he said.
'So what do you suggest?'
He put the cards away. 'That we cheat,' he said, and drew her gently into his arms.
She wasn't sure which of them removed the last vestiges of each other's clothing, but the next thing she knew they were naked beneath the sheets and exploring each other with hands and lips and tongues---and oh, it felt glorious to have those clever surgeon's hands stroking her skin and teasing her nipples and gently parting her thighs.
James ripped the foil packet open and slid the condom on to protect her, then lay back against her pillows, grasped the wrought-iron headboard, and gave her a smile that managed to be sweet and utterly sinful at the same time.
'I,' he said, 'am completely yours. Do whatever you want with me.'
Then it clicked.
He was giving her control. Giving her back what Michael had taken.
And she really, really loved him for it. For caring that much. For knowing the right thing to do and let them move forward.
She straddled him, and he sucked in a breath.
'Take it at your pace,' he said, his voice cracked. 'Only...can I ask, please don't take too long? Or I might just have to beg.'
His fingers tightened against the iron as she slid her hand round his shaft and positioned him so she could sink down onto him, then lowered herself slowly, slowly, slowly.
The moment that he was fully sheathed inside her, he took one hand from the headboard, laced his fingers through hers and whispered, 'Charlotte.'
His were dark and soulful and sweet.
'What?'
He drew their linked hands to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. 'Thank you. For trusting me.'
She smiled back. 'Thank you. For taking the shadows away.'
At that, he shifted so that he, too, was sitting, released her hands, and wrapped his arms round her. 'This is probably the worst timing in the world,' he said, resting his cheek against hers and holding her close, 'but there's something I need to say.'
'What's that?'
He drew back just enough so she could see the sincerity in his face. 'I love you.'
She blinked. 'Did you just say...?'
'I love you,' he repeated, and smiled wryly. 'I almost told you, that time we were walking on the beach and I explained about Sophia. But it wasn't the right time.'
'And now is?'
'Probably not,' he admitted. 'But I'll tell you again. After.'
'After what?'
He gave her a grin of sheer devilry. 'After I've made you come.'
His words alone made her heart skitter, and as she moved over him, she could feel her body racing towards the peak.
Just as her climax hit, James tightened his arms around her.
'I love you,' he said, burying his face in the curve between her shoulder and neck, and she felt his body surge against hers.
THE next morning, Charlotte woke up alone; but there was a dent in the pillow that told her she hadn't dreamed it---James had spent the night with his body curved protectively round hers.
The scent of fresh coffee told her that he was downstairs. Just as she was thinking it, her bedroom door opened, and he walked in, carrying two mugs. He was wearing nothing but a towel, slung low around his hips. And he looked so gorgeous that she couldn't think straight.
'Good morning,' he said with a smile.
'Morning,' she mumbled.
He placed the coffee on her bedside table, then dropped the towel and climbed in next to her. 'I hope you don't mind me hijacking your kitchen. And I've fed Pandora. I don't know if I've given her enough breakfast, but I'm sure she'll complain to you later if I haven't.'
'You'll know. She'll come and miaou in your ear,'Charlotte said with a wry smile.
'Just in case you've forgotten what I said last night---I love you, Charlotte,' he told her, settling back against the pillows and shifting her into his arms. 'I think I fell for you pretty early on, and the more I got to know you, the more I liked you. And these last few days, since we've sorted things out between us...it's made a few things clear to me. What I want out of life.'
'And what's that?' she asked.
'I could tell you---but I don't want to pressurise you. And I still don't know how you feel about me.'
She coughed. 'You're the first man I've allowed this close to me since Michael. What does that tell you?'
'I hope I know,' he said, 'but I'd rather you told me. Just in case I'm wrong.'
'That you're special.' She paused for just long enough to make him squirm, then grinned. 'I love you, too.'
He leaned over and kissed her. 'Good. Then all's right with my world.' And all was very much right with her world, too.
The next week passed in a blur; Charlotte and James were both incredibly busy at work. On Friday, Millie Fowler's parents brought their baby back in as her tetralogy episodes had become more frequent. James reviewed the echo with Charlotte, and came in with her to see the Fowlers.
'She's still too little for surgery,' James said, 'so I'm going to do what's called BT shunt. The "BT" stands for Blalock-Taussig---it's basically a tube that I'll place between her aorta and her pulmonary artery.'
Charlotte drew a swift diagram. 'That's from here to here,' she explained.
'It means she'll get enough blood flowing to her lungs and will stop her having so many tetralogy episodes between now and her operation,' James explained. 'I'll remove it then.'
'And in the meantime I'll see Millie regularly and we'll keep an eye on her,' Charlotte said. 'James and I work closely together, so he'll always know what's going on.'
'You do seem to work well as a team,' Mrs Fowler said.
James rested his hand briefly on Charlotte's shoulder and squeezed. 'We do. I'll check the theatre slots and give you a ring this afternoon to see when we can fit her in.'
'Is she...is she going to...?' Mr Fowler clearly couldn't bring himself to ask.
'She'll be fine,' Charlotte reassured him. 'James has done plenty of these operations in the past, and it'll make life a lot easier for her until she has the hole in her heart closed. It'll save you a lot of worrying, too, once the operation's over---and I'll be here with you while you're waiting for Millie to go to Theatre.' She smiled at the Fowlers. 'Everything's going to be just fine.'
On the Saturday afternoon, James discovered that there was a travelling funfair just down the road, halfway between St Piran and Penhally.
'Now, this we just have to do,' he said. 'I love fairs.'
Seeing the way his eyes sparkled, Charlotte put up no resistance. And it turned out to be enormous fun---eating candyfloss and doughnuts, spinning round on the rides. James insisted on trying every stall, and on the hoopla stall he won a plastic egg. He opened it, eyed Charlotte, and grinned.
'What's in the egg?' she asked.
'I'll show you later.'He linked his fingers through hers. 'Are you scared of heights?'
'No.'
'Good. We'll go on the big wheel next, then.'
It was late enough for the sky to be dark; the lights from the fairground glittered beneath them as they rose to the peak of the ride.
'Charlotte. There's something I need to talk to you about.'
James sounded serious, and she had to struggle to keep her own voice light. 'Sure.'
'I know I said I wouldn't rush you, but I'm really not very good at waiting for things. And I want the rest of my life to start now.'
She still wasn't with him.
And then he produced a bottle of sparkling mineral water from one pocket and the plastic egg from the other. 'Traditionally, this moment's meant to involve champagne and a diamond solitaire, but you've taught me that that stuff's just for show. The important things are what lie behind it. And the important thing is love. I love you, Charlotte. With you, the world is full of sunshine, instead of the glitzy stuff I used to have in my life as its substitute.' He opened the egg to reveal a translucent blue plastic ring decorated with three blobs in the same material. 'So will you marry me?'
He was asking her to marry him---with a plastic ring. Leaving all the glitz behind. Because he said that she'd taught him to see the important things behind the surface.
'Marry you?' she repeated, still not quite believing he'd asked her.
'The word I'm looking for is "yes",' he said softly. 'It doesn't matter whether this is water and plastic, or vintage champagne and a one-carat platinum-set diamond. They're just trappings---and I want something real. I want you. And me. And a family.'
Exactly what she wanted, and had thought would never happen for her.
She threw her arms round him and kissed him. 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, I'll marry you. Because I love you all the way back.'
He slid the ring onto her finger. 'This is temporary,' he said.
Extremely temporary, because James took Charlotte shopping the next morning to find a ring. And then he went all mysterious on her, insisting on dropping her home for the afternoon as he had 'something to do'. Which suited her fine, as she had something to do, too.
That evening, James picked her up and took her back to his place. 'Dinner, madam, is served.' Charlotte could see how much effort he'd taken. He'd lit candles everywhere, his living room was full of flowers, and he'd set a table on the balcony so they could look out at the night sky and the sea.
And over pudding---the richest, most gorgeous chocolate mousse she'd ever eaten in her life---he gave her the ring they'd chosen together that morning, a simple band of Cornish gold set with a tanzanite that he'd said was the exact colour of her eyes.
'To us,' he said, lifting a glass of champagne, 'and the rest of our lives.'
She echoed the toast, and then handed him an envelope.
'What's this?' he asked.
'Engagement present,' she said with a smile.
He opened the envelope to reveal a photograph of a black flatcoat retriever puppy with a piece of pink ribbon round his neck.
'His name, I believe, is Dylan,' Charlotte told him. 'And he'll be ready to come and live with us towards the end of October.'
James looked steadily at her. 'Us?'
'OK, so my house isn't quite as flash as your townhouse with its sea view---but, if you don't mind downgrading for a while, you could always move in with me,' she said.
'Charlotte, with you I'd be happy to live in a beach hut,' he said, his face full of sincerity. 'I would love to move in with you.' He stared at the photograph. 'Every birthday, every Christmas, every summer, I asked if I could have a dog.'
'I know,' she said softly. 'And I think maybe you're ready for him now.'
'Ready to settle down. To start our family.' He paused. 'What about Pandora?'
'Melinda says you can introduce a pup into a house with a cat much more easily than a kitten into a house with dogs,' Charlotte reassured him. 'Burmese blues are really sociable, and Pandora's really come out of her shell with you. She'll be fine with Dylan, too; she'll probably smack him on the nose to keep him in line, but she'll also probably cuddle up with him.'
'A dog, a cat, a future and a family.' He smiled at her. 'Charlotte, you've just made all my dreams come true.'
'It's mutual,' she said softly. 'Until you, I didn't think I'd ever find love. I'd stopped looking.'
'Me, too,' James said. 'But we've found each other. For keeps.'
Six months later: late afternoon on an April Saturday
JAMES glanced at his watch. Two minutes to go. Was Charlotte going to hold with tradition and be late? Sophia had kept everyone waiting for nearly twenty minutes...
'Relax,' Jack said. 'This isn't like the last time.' He smiled. 'For a start, you're marrying the right woman.'
'Yeah.' James smiled back at his best man. Jack was right. This was nothing like his wedding with Sophia. Instead of having all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, the ridiculous security, he and Charlotte had talked to the press and done a deal: they'd pose for photographs after the wedding in return for a decent donation to hospital funds and being left alone to enjoy the rest of their wedding.
A small wedding, with just their closest family and friends attending. Not people who wanted to boost their celebrity rating, people who were coming to the wedding because they wanted to celebrate James and Charlotte's happiness. A wedding full of love rather than bling.
Admittedly they were having the wedding in the most upmarket hotel in St Piran, and were holding the reception there, too; Charlotte had agreed to compromise that far.
James had stayed at the hotel the previous night, with his parents and his brother Mark, while Charlotte had stayed in their new house with her parents. Melinda and Dragan had been kind enough to take in Dylan and Pandora for the weekend, because Charlotte had worried in case the cat and the pup wouldn't settle into boarding kennels.
And today she was going to marry him. Pledge her love in front of the people they loved most.
He glanced at his watch again. And almost exactly at the moment the second hand reached the number twelve, Jack nudged him and the first notes of Bach's 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' floated into the air, played by a solo cellist.
She was here.
James had a huge lump in his throat as he turned to see his bride walk towards him, holding her father's arm and wearing the dress she'd managed to keep a secret from him over the last few weeks. A knee-length confection in lilac taffeta, with a sweetheart neckline, matching lilac high-heeled court shoes and lavender pearls. She was carrying a bouquet of white roses and white tulips with frilly lilac edges; her hair was loose, in a mass of soft waves, and James had never seen her look more beautiful.
'I love you,' he said as she joined him in front of the registrar.
She smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes and made the whole room feel as if it were bathed in sunshine. 'I love you, too.'
'And I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to the rest of our life together.'
She laughed. 'I thought about being late. But then I remembered that my husband-to-be isn't the patient type.'
'I can learn. Everything's possible, with you by my side.'
The rest of the ceremony was a blur, as were the photographs afterwards, but James felt as if his smile was a mile wide. All through the formal meal, he kept looking at his bride and kept wanting to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming---that he really had got this lucky.
And then finally it was the evening reception. A reception with a slight difference---because they'd merged two homes and had everything, Charlotte has asked people to donate tombola prizes rather than give wedding presents. All the proceeds were going to be split between the rape crisis centre and the hospital. And so far people had been incredibly generous, both with their donations and with buying tickets.
Charlotte had sold tombola tickets to all the paparazzi, too. Even the most hard-bitten snapper had softened at her smile and paid up with pleasure.
The first dance was a proper waltz, played only on the piano: Tchaikovsky's 'Sleeping Beauty' waltz. Charlotte had suggested it: 'It reminds me of the moment I fell in love with you, James. The night you gave me a dress that made me feel like a princess and danced with me---and kissed me.'
It was a precious memory for him, too. And he knew he'd remember this moment for the rest of his life. Holding his bride in his arms, dancing with her in perfect teamwork.
As the last notes died away, James spirited Charlotte out to the balcony. The stars were just coming out and they could see the moon reflected on the sea.
'I hope you didn't mind us having glitzy ballroom dancing for the reception,' he said, stroking her face.
'Given your penchant for flashy things,'she teased, 'I could hardly object.'
'Hey, sometimes you need to put on a bit of glitz.'He kissed her, feeling her mouth open beneath his and feeling as if he'd finally come home. 'But the important thing is what's behind the glitz,' he said softly. 'With you, I know I've got the most important things in life---things that a year ago I never thought I'd know. Trust, and love.'
'Me, too,' Charlotte said softly. 'You've taught me to trust again.'And then she laughed.
'What?'
'Listen,' she said.
He did. The band was playing 'True Love', from the film high society.
'This,' she said, 'could be our song. Admittedly you're the one with the posh background, and I'm just an ord---'
He spun her round and kissed the rest of the words from her lips. 'There's nothing remotely ordinary about you, Charlotte Alexander. But the sentiment behind the song's about right. I love you. For ever. And I'll always be true.'
She kissed him back. 'I love you, too, James. Truly. And for ever.'
Margaret McDonagh says of herself: 'I began losing myself in the magical world of books from a very young age, and I always knew that I had to write, pursuing the dream for over twenty years, often with cussed stubbornness in the face of rejection letters! Despite having numerous romance novellas, short stories and serials published, the news that my first "proper book" had been accepted by Harlequin Mills & Boon for their Medical™ Romance line brought indescribable joy! Having a passion for learning makes researching an involving pleasure, and I love developing new characters, getting to know them, setting them challenges to overcome. The hardest part is saying goodbye to them, because they become so real to me. And I always fall in love with my heroes! Writing and reading books, keeping in touch with friends, watching sport and meeting the demands of my four-legged companions keeps me well occupied. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I loved writing it.'
www.margaretmcdonagh.com margaret.mcdonagh@yahoo.co.uk
Recent titles by the same author:
ITALIAN DOCTOR, DREAM PROPOSAL
THE REBEL SURGEON's PROPOSAL
THE EMERGENCY DOCTOR CLAIMS HIS WIFE
DR DEVEREUX's PROPOSAL\*
\*Brides of Penhally Bay
'GOOD morning, everyone. If I could have your attention.'
As Dr Nick Tremayne strode into the staffroom at the Penhally Bay Surgery on a sunny Monday morning in mid-September, GP Polly Carrick slipped unnoticed to a chair and sat down. Although it was two hours until her first scheduled appointment, Polly had come in early for the meeting, hoping to use the extra time to make an impression on the mountain of paperwork growing on her desk.
'Could we move along, please?' The bite of impatience in Nick's voice was symbolic of the edgy, unpredictable mood he had been in during the last few weeks. 'Patients will soon be arriving---and I have an upcoming meeting. Before then, I have a couple of items to discuss with you.'
The senior partner, Nick's restlessness was evident as he waited for the room to quieten and the on-duty staff to settle. Finally, a hush descended, broken only by the clink of teaspoons against mugs and the familiar metallic ping as the tin containing practice manager Hazel's homemade biscuits was opened with customary eagerness.
'The last couple of years have brought many changes, not only to Penhally in general but to this practice in particular as we continue to expand and extend the services offered to patients.' Nick paused, an aloof smile on his face as his dark gaze scanned the room. 'Luca d'Azzaro is joining us today, filling the gap created by Adam's departure two weeks ago. Some of you met Luca during his familiarisation visit in August, but for those of you not yet acquainted, he moved to Cornwall from Italy three years ago, working since then in St Piran.'
A frown of consideration knotted Nick's brow. 'I won't be betraying any confidences when I tell you that Luca's ambition was to be a paediatric surgeon, but a change in circumstances led to him switching specialty and qualifying as a GP. His references are exceptional and, having done surgical and trauma rotations during his training, he will be an asset in our minor injuries unit. I trust you'll all extend a warm welcome and offer any assistance Luca needs.'
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the staffroom, which was situated on the first floor of the ever-growing and increasingly busy Penhally Bay Surgery. Polly tuned out Nick's voice as he moved on to the next item on his agenda. Luca's arrival meant that she was no longer the newest member of the team. She'd joined the practice nine weeks ago and had settled well, enjoying the job and receiving a warm welcome from the rest of the staff.
Settling in Penhally itself had presented a bigger challenge. She was no stranger to the north Cornish village, having spent the first seventeen years of her life here. Most of them had been unhappy, tormented years. At least, after her mother had died when Polly had been four, leaving her alone in the charge of Reg...a man singularly unsuited to the role of father. A shiver ran down her spine. Polly wrapped her arms around her waist, as if by doing so she could protect herself from the remembered pain. This was neither the time nor the place to poke around in old wounds.
News of the new GP post in Penhally had come out of the blue. When Kate Althorp---godmother, friend, confidante, and the only person with whom she had kept in touch after leaving Cornwall thirteen years ago---had phoned, Polly had thought she was joking.
'I know how difficult the last few years have been, Polly, and I'm so proud of you for overcoming yet another ordeal,' Kate had told her, bringing a lump to Polly's throat. 'In your last email, you said you needed a complete change and wanted to get right away from London.'
'Yes, I did. I do. But Penhally?'
'I know, my love, but all the bad you once knew here has long gone. I've recommended you to the team and told them about your professional skills. There will be an interview, of course, but that's just a formality. The job is yours...if you want it,' her friend had continued, countering her protests. 'Starting over is never easy, as you know from past experience, but here you have people waiting to welcome you back with open arms. And I'm at the head of the queue.'
The lump in her throat had swelled to mammoth proportions. 'Kate...'
'Please come, Polly. You're a wonderful doctor. Penhally needs you. And I think you need Penhally. Don't let the shadows of the past continue to cloud your future,' Kate had advised, genuine emotion in her voice.
Although doubts and anxieties had remained, Polly had gone through the interview, agreed terms and signed a contract. Which was why, thirteen years after she had left, vowing never to set foot in the village again, she had found herself back in Penhally.
The meagre possessions she had salvaged---all she had left to show for her years of independence and her folly---looked lost in the Bridge Street flat where Nick's daughter Lucy had once lived and which was now rented out. Kate, ever thoughtful, had stocked the flat with basic supplies and fresh flowers for her arrival.
'Polly?'
Nick's impatient voice, accompanied by a gentle nudge from Chloe Fawkner, who had come to sit next to her, roused Polly from her introspection. She looked up, uncomfortably aware that she had no idea what her boss had said. Everyone was looking at her and a blush heated her cheeks...she hated being the centre of attention.
Trying not to squirm, Polly met her boss's enigmatic gaze, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt. 'Yes, Nick?'
'Thank you, Polly. I'm glad you agree,' he replied, turning away.
Amusement rippled round the room and, with a sinking heart Polly wondered what she had unwittingly agreed to. Chloe sent her a sympathetic smile. Besides Kate, it had been Chloe, physiotherapist Lauren Nightingale and their partners who had gone out of their way to include her, both professionally and socially. It was the social stuff she struggled with.
Polly remembered Chloe and Lauren from school. And Sam Cavendish, a part-time GP in the practice, had been in her year. Not that he would have noticed her. No one had. She'd been the quiet, skinny loner who'd lurked in the background.
In the weeks since she had returned to Penhally, Polly had come to know Chloe as a dedicated professional, very caring of her mums-to-be, kind to her colleagues and a good friend to Kate. Chloe had matured into a beautiful woman, with long, dark hair and big green eyes. Polly couldn't help but envy her looks and curvy body. Or the fact that Chloe was so evidently in love with, and loved by, her wickedly handsome husband, Oliver Fawkner, another of Penhally's GPs.
With Nick busy talking to Croatian GP Dragan Lovak, Polly quizzed Chloe on the details she had missed from their boss's talk.
'What have I agreed to do?' Polly whispered.
Chloe leaned closer to murmur her reply. 'Babysit our new doctor.'
'Oh, hell.'
Polly slumped back on her chair and stifled a groan. It was the last task she would have chosen. Surely one of the more established doctors would be better suited for the role? Oliver had been Polly's mentor for the first few days. He'd been kindness itself, warm in his welcome, and whether or not he had sensed her nervousness, Oliver's easygoing nature and irreverent humour had set her at ease. The least she could do was extend the same courtesy to Luca, although her shyness and anxiety would make her task harder. With patients, she was fine, able to project her work persona, but she continued to find any kind of social interaction difficult.
The morning briefing came to an end, and the staffroom emptied as everyone dispersed to their own rooms and designated tasks. There was no opportunity to talk to Nick. Used to keeping in the background rather than pushing herself forward, by the time Polly had urged herself to act it was too late, and her boss was already out of the door.
'I'll bring Luca along and introduce you in time for your first consultation, Polly,' he called over his shoulder, before jogging down the stairs.
Sighing, Polly found herself alone in the staffroom. After making a mug of white tea with cranberries, she went downstairs to her consulting room and closed the door, determined to do battle with the never-ending paperwork.
As she settled at her desk and sipped her tea, her mind drifted to the new doctor and the little Nick had said about him. She couldn't help but wonder what had caused Luca d'Azzaro to give up his surgical career and why he had turned to general practice instead. Polly shook her head. Such speculation was pointless. And Luca's decisions were none of her business.
Polly glanced at her watch and a frission rippled down her spine, a curious flicker of...what? Apprehension, unease, excitement? She didn't know. She'd never experienced such nervy anticipation before. Why now? And why had Nick chosen her to help Luca settle in? All too soon she would meet the mysterious new doctor for herself.
'I think that covers everything, Luca.' With a benevolent smile, Nick leaned back in his chair and closed the file he'd had open in front of him. 'Do you have any questions?'
Luca shook his head. 'No, thank you. I'm eager to begin my new duties.'
Eager, yes, but he also felt a flicker of nervousness at what lay ahead, Luca acknowledged, facing his first day in his first full-time position as a general practitioner. As a young medical student he'd been determined to turn his dream of being a paediatric surgeon into a reality, but fate had had other plans for him, and he'd learned some valuable, if painful lessons. In consequence, he was here today, a qualified GP, embarking on a new chapter of his life.
He'd got just far enough in his surgical training to have had a tantalising taste of what he'd longed for before it had been taken away again. But when life dealt a cruelly vicious blow, a man had to make sacrifices and carry on as best he could. The change of career allowed him more settled working hours so that he could be a better father to his fast-growing twin daughters. And no sacrifice was too much, no cost too high for him to pay, in an attempt to compensate his girls for the fact that they didn't have a mother. The familiar sting of pain, betrayal and crushing burden of guilt weighed heavily upon him.
'W're Edelighted to have you on board,' Nick said, rising to his feet.
Luca stood up and shook the older man's hand. 'Thank you.'
Nick gestured for him to precede him to the door. 'I've arranged for you to shadow Dr Polly Carrick. You can sit in on her surgeries today, before starting your own consultations tomorrow, and you can double up on home visits for a couple of weeks to learn your way around.'
Luca murmured his acquiescence. It was what he'd expected, Nick having raised the issue when Luca had last visited the surgery to formalise his appointment. He'd looked round the premises on that occasion and had been very impressed by the expansion and all the new facilities. He'd also met some of his soon-to-be colleagues, all of whom had been friendly and welcoming. Their reaction, and the feeling of ease he had experienced being in the surgery, had given him confidence that he'd made the right decision to pursue the sought-after position in Penhally.
He'd yet to meet Polly Carrick, however, and wondered why Nick had chosen her as the doctor he was to shadow.
'Polly joined us in July. She grew up in Penhally, so is familiar with the district.'
'I'm sure her local knowledge will be useful,' Luca responded politely.
Turning down a corridor that housed the physiotherapy room and three consulting rooms, Nick opened an unmarked door and showed him inside. 'This will be your domain. Say if there is anything that you need. You have your name-plate?'
'Yes.' Luca sneaked a quick look around as he moved to set his bag on the empty desk. The room was bright and airy, quite big enough and very well equipped. He opened the bag and took out the plate. 'Here it is.'
Nick smiled. 'You do the honours.'
As he slotted the plate bearing his name into the empty bracket on the door, Luca experienced a sense of achievement and belonging tinged with sadness.
'Next to you is Gabriel Devereux,' Nick informed, pointing towards the door. 'I think you met him the last time you were here.'
Luca smiled, remembering the warmth of the French GP's greeting. 'Yes, I did. And his fiancée, Lauren.'
'Of course. That's Lauren's domain,' Nick told him, gesturing to the physiotherapy room across the other side of the wide corridor. 'And here we have Polly.' His new boss halted outside the closed door bearing her name. 'I've paired you with Polly for several reasons. One was your desire to see your girls settled at nursery school before you came in---and Polly's first appointment on a Monday is at ten o'clock, whereas the other surgeries have been under way for an hour or more.'
Luca was relieved and grateful that the initial understanding Nick had shown was being maintained. 'I appreciate your thoughtfulness. It's true that I wanted time to see them settled on their first day, but I don't expect any undue concessions...and I fully intend to pull my weight on the team.'
'I never expected any different, Luca,' the older man reassured him. 'As the father of twins myself---who are now grown up with children of their own---I can only imagine how difficult it is and what commitment you show in bringing them up alone.'
'Thank you, Nick.'
The words had touched him. But Luca wondered how understanding his new boss would have been had the girls succeeded in scuppering his efforts to get them organised and had made him late on his first day of work. This was a new move and a new routine for them to get used to, and he was well aware that, at three years of age, the twins were also facing challenges in their lives.
He had dropped them off for their first day at nursery. Christine Galloway, the owner of the highly respected school, and Trish Atkins, who taught the three-year-old reception class, had assured him that Rosie and Toni would be fine. Luca smiled. He was more worried what mischief the twins might get up to!
Both girls had been keen to go and make new friends. Even so, he'd had a lump in his throat the size of a boulder when he had left them half an hour ago. It wasn't the first time they had been parted, of course. The twins had been looked after by their grandparents so he could work, first at St Piran Hospital to finish his rotations and then as he'd done his general practice training. But this was their first day at proper nursery school and marked a big stepping-stone in their lives. All three of them were facing changes...a new home, a new school for the girls, and a new job for him.
Nick knocked on Polly's door and a female response from within invited them to enter. Luca felt a strange prickling along his nerve-endings as he heard the voice, which was soft and throaty yet undeniably feminine. Trying to shake off the odd sensation, he followed Nick into the room, completely unprepared for the slam of awareness that crashed into him when he closed the door, turned round and looked at Polly Carrick for the first time.
Having felt nothing at all for a long time, the immediate, instinctive and unwanted reactions unnerved him. He took an involuntary pace backwards, one part of his brain screaming a denial, while the other part drank in every detail, trying to hang onto each rapid-fire sensation and observation.
The first inescapable truth was that Polly was tiny. It wasn't that she was particularly short---as she stood up, Luca judged her to be around five feet four or five---but even wearing what looked like several layers of colourful but shape-hiding clothes, there hardly seemed to be anything of her at all. And she looked so young, scarcely more than a child herself.
The fine features of her face highlighted her delicate bone structure...accentuated further by the way she had swept soft, wavy strands of ash-blonde hair up into a loose knot at the back of her head. A few strands had escaped to feather her face and her slender neck, and his fingers itched to feel their texture and to tuck them back behind her neat, shell-like ears. The fine line of her jaw held a touch of stubbornness in the set of her chin, as if she had been forced many times to punch above her weight in order to be taken seriously. She had high cheekbones and a small, straight nose, baby-soft, pale skin, and a mouth that screamed temptation, the unglossed lips plump and rosy, designed for kissing, and settled now in a natural, sexy pout.
Then he looked at her eyes...Luca sucked in a ragged breath. Polly Carrick had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Fringed by ridiculously long sooty lashes, they were like the finest sapphires, a rich, deep blue with a luminous effervescence shining within them. They widened now as her gaze met his, and the predominant emotions he saw were confusion, awareness and a touch of fright.
'Luca, meet Polly. Polly, this is Luca d'Azzaro,' Nick introduced them, apparently oblivious to the charge of...what?
Dio! What on was going on here? Whatever it was, Polly didn't want it any more than he did and was fighting just as hard to deny it. Luca tried to gather himself, but it proved impossible to ignore the zing of electricity that awakened every cell in his body as, unable to avoid it, he shook Polly's reluctantly offered hand.
'How do you do?' she greeted him, her words polite but shaky, her voice having the same effect on him now as when he had first heard it from the other side of the door. 'Welcome to Penhally.'
He was acutely aware of her hand in his, of the delicate bones he feared would snap if he held her too tightly and of the brush of her satin-soft skin. Looking down, he saw her paler flesh offset against the darker tones of his, and her whole small hand disappeared, enveloped within his.
'Thank you, Polly.'
Somehow he managed to force the words out. Seconds ticked by, then Polly was drawing away, gently tugging on the hand he still held within his own. Shocked at his uncharacteristic behaviour, Luca abruptly let her go. How was he going to cope being in her company for a day, let alone the two weeks Nick had decreed?
'Polly, I was telling Luca why I've paired you together even though you've not been with us very long yourself,' Nick explained, continuing to show no sign that he had noted the heightened atmosphere in the room. 'One reason is your remarkable affinity with troubled youngsters, hence the dropin clinic I encouraged you to set up.'
Luca glanced at Polly, noting at once how uncomfortable she was. Nick's 'encouragement' might well come across quite differently if you were on the receiving end and brought in against your will to carry out one of his ideas.
'It wasn't my intention to work with a specific age group,' Polly began, her puzzlement evident.
'However it came about, you're doing an excellent job and we want to give you all the support we can.' With a benevolent smile, Nick continued, 'The Saturday drop-in clinic has been up and running for about a month now, and it's open to all those under eighteen who may not usually consider consulting a doctor. They can come informally for help and advice about anything that is bothering them.'
'It's an excellent idea,' Luca agreed, impressed that Polly had apparently got the whole thing going single-handedly.
'Knowing of your own interest in paediatrics, especially the older age range, I thought the project would interest you. You'll bring Luca up to date on things, won't you, Polly?'
'Of course, Nick.'
Luca met her gaze and noted her reluctance. His interest was piqued by the clinic...and by Polly. He could shout denials from the rooftops, but Polly, with her beautiful eyes and elfin face, dressed in her gypsy-like clothes and fizzing with barely suppressed energy, had made a startling impression on him.
'Good, good,' Nick said, rubbing his hands together. 'Luca, I'll leave you to decide if you want to be involved and can volunteer any hours to Polly---but only if it fits in with your other commitments.'
By which Nick meant the twins, Luca knew. 'Thank you.'
He had a way out and could say no from the outset, removing himself from the possibility of spending even more time around Polly. He opened his mouth to do just that, but before he knew what he was doing or could listen to the voice of reason nagging at the back of his mind, his words emerged very differently.
'I'm sure Polly and I can arrange something.'
'Splendid. And that reminds me,' Nick continued, turning to Polly with an apologetic smile, 'John Whittford, headmaster at the high school, received the flier you sent out about the drop-in service and he's very keen to give it his backing.'
Polly's smile lit up her face and took Luca's breath away. 'I'll contact him and discuss it,' she said, sitting down again and pulling her diary towards her.
'Ah...' Nick grimaced, a guilty expression in his eyes.
'Is there a problem?' she queried, glancing up, even white teeth nibbling the luscious swell of her lower lip.
Luca smothered a groan as he watched her, feeling the ache tighten deep inside him in response to the sensual gesture. He was relieved when Nick began speaking again, and he struggled to focus on the conversation and not on watching the only woman to have captured his attention and imagination in the last four years.
'I somewhat jumped the gun,' Nick confessed, his arms folded defensively across his chest. 'John requested that you visit the school one day this week to speak to the pupils at assembly about the new service and I pencilled you in for Friday. Luca can go with you.'
'I see.'
Nick seemed unaware of Polly's reaction to his words but Luca, who had been watching her, despite his determination to do otherwise, had seen the flicker of distress in her eyes and had noted that she had visibly paled, her hands clenching until her knuckles turned white. He wondered what was wrong. Was she upset that Nick had committed her to something without her knowledge and agreement? Or was the cause something much deeper? He didn't know, but he intended to find out---on Friday, if not before.
'Right, I think that's all. Luca, let me know if there is anything you need.' Nick shook his hand once more, then turned to Polly with a nod and a smile before glancing at his watch. 'It's almost ten. I'll leave you both to your morning surgery---and to get to know each other. I'm sure you'll work well together.'
The words hung in the air as Nick crossed to the door and let himself out. A tense, charged silence remained, shimmering between them. Luca had no idea how well he and Polly would work together. What he did know was that neither of them relished the situation in which they now found themselves. Perversely, that only intrigued him more and made him wonder what Polly's reasons were for keeping her distance and ignoring the connection they had both felt from the moment they had looked at each other. They might both resist it, but that didn't make it any less real. Or go away.
Meeting Polly's sapphire-blue gaze and seeing the turbulent emotions in the depths of her eyes, Luca had no doubt that getting to know each other was going to be a challenging experience, one that neither of them had anticipated or wanted---but one which was now unstoppable and that neither of them would forget.
HER immediate and uncharacteristic response to Luca d'Azzaro was a temporary aberration, Polly reassured herself. These peculiar feelings would pass. They had to. Any moment now she would be able to breathe again. Her heart would return to its normal, regular rhythm rather than beating out a manic tattoo like a jungle drum sending an SOS message. The restriction in her throat would ease, the aching knot deep inside her would unravel, her skin would stop tingling and her braless breasts would no longer feel so sensitised that even the soft cotton material of her crop top felt too much against taut, peaked nipples.
She took a hasty, surreptitious glance down at herself, thankful that her propensity for wearing several layers of loose clothing to disguise her body meant that the betraying evidence of her arousal to Luca was not obvious for all---and especially the man himself---to see.
'Would you like a cup of coffee or anything?' she asked, wishing that her voice sounded less breathy and more controlled as she broke the tense silence. She glanced at her watch. 'There's just time before the first appointment.'
'No, thank you, Polly. I'm fine.'
Fine... Not the word most people would use to describe this man. An inch or two shy of six feet, and dressed in a perfectly tailored dark grey suit with a white shirt and a dark purple tie, he was, quite simply, the most stunningly gorgeous man she had ever seen. Around her own age of thirty, she estimated, his hair was short, thick and lustrous, and so dark it was almost black. The strongly defined angles of his face and clean-shaven jaw screamed masculinity. His mouth, with the sensual fullness of his lower lip and the attractive bow of the top one, promised sinful pleasure, while his eyes, under the neat dark slashes of his brows and framed by long, thick, dusky lashes, were the colour of rich, dark melted chocolate. They were deep and mysterious, burning with suppressed passion, and as she looked into them, Polly felt as if she was slipping away from reality.
And, as if his looks and sheer presence were not enough to bring her to her knees, there was his voice. Deep, warm and smoky. He spoke fluent English, but the lilting Italian accent added an undeniable sexiness and every word vibrated along her nerves.
When they had shaken hands, Polly had been struck by the stark contrasts between them. The darker tones of his olive-hued skin had highlighted the paleness of her own, as well as making her hand seem impossibly small and fragile as it all but disappeared within the clasp of his. It had made her feel both vulnerable yet protected. And given the very real sense of danger that had overwhelmed her the instant their gazes had met, she was confused how she could, at the same time, feel so safe.
Polly was shocked by Luca's effect on her, and the magnetic pull she felt. Attempting to cover her nervousness, desperate to focus on something else, and wishing for her world to be normal again, she turned away and busied herself making extra space on her desk. She then fetched a chair for Luca so he could observe the computer screen.
'Thank you,' she murmured as Luca took the chair from her and eased it into place. 'Did Nick tell you about the shadowing?'
'I was expecting it, yes.'
'As well as doubling up for a couple of weeks on home visits to become familiar with the district, Nick likes new doctors to spend the first day learning the way things are done in the practice in terms of sending off blood tests and samples, processing notes, referral letters, prescriptions and so on before taking their own consultations,' she told him, aware she was babbling but unable to stop herself.
Luca's sudden smile---revealing a dimple in his left cheek and laughter lines bracketing his eyes---took away any remaining breath she had left. 'It makes sense. Left to my own devices I could well crash the system on my first day!'
His wry laughter and self-deprecating humour were unexpected and infectious, and Polly found herself smiling back, liking him far more than she wanted to. Once more her gaze clashed with his and a tingle shimmied down her spine. The connection between them was undeniable, the awareness in-disputable...and she was scared. She didn't want to like him or be attracted to him.
She'd fallen for a handsome face once before, and look how that had turned out. Polly had learned the lessons of the last painful years. The hard way. And she wasn't about to repeat her mistakes. It didn't matter how incredible Luca was...she had vowed never to get involved with a man again and she had no intention of changing her mind or of opening herself up to any more heartache. She'd do well to remember that, she warned herself, making a supreme effort and dragging her gaze free of his.
'If you're ready, Luca, we should make a start.' Taking her place at her desk, she pulled the tray of notes towards her. 'We have a full list before lunch, then several home visits this afternoon before the next scheduled surgery, which begins at four o'clock.'
'I'm ready, Polly.'
How could such innocuous words make her pulse race and her chest feel tight? It hadn't been the words themselves but the delivery of them...that rough baritone voice could make a shopping list sound sexy. Polly sucked in a steadying breath as Luca drew up his chair and sat down. He was far, far too close. Now, every time she needed to use the keyboard, she would have to lean into Luca.
Gritting her teeth, Polly tried to keep as much distance between them as possible as she reached across for her mouse. Being right-handed, she kept it on the right side of her keyboard, an added disadvantage now, but Luca picked it up and teased the cable through so she could use it without stretching.
'Thank you,' she murmured, flicking a sidelong glance towards him and finding him watching her.
Discomfited, she concentrated with more care than necessary on opening the required program, checking her morning list before accessing the first patient's record and giving Luca a quick briefing. He leaned forward to study the notes and was so close that Polly became aware of his scent. She couldn't put a name to it but, whatever it was, the subtle, faintly musky aroma was so incredibly sexy that it inflamed her senses and made her want to burrow into him and absorb the very essence of him.
Aware her eyes were closing and she was in danger of swaying towards him, just as instinct demanded, Polly jerked backwards, hastily fumbling with the first packet of notes she had drawn from the box. She cursed herself, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. What was wrong with her? She never reacted like this, yet a few moments in Luca's company and she was thinking and feeling uncharacteristic things. Thank goodness she only had to do consultations with him for one day. Even so, she wasn't sure she would survive it. She didn't want to think about two weeks trapped in the car doing home visits with him.
Her hand was shaking as she reached for the phone to buzz Reception. She hoped Luca hadn't noticed---or, if he had, that he had no idea being in close proximity to him was the cause.
'Hello, Sue,' she said when the head receptionist answered the phone. 'W're Eready to start. Could you send the first patient through, please?'
'Of course, Polly.'
Polly hung up the phone, surprised when she heard Luca sigh and whisper a couple of words in Italian. She didn't understand what he'd said, but she caught the sentiment.
'Nervous?' she asked, her gaze drawn to his despite her determination not to look at him.
'That first-day feeling.' The wry smile that had nearly undone her before reappeared, curving his mouth and tightening the knot deep inside her. 'Will the patients like me? Will I fit in? Please God I don't make any mistakes.'
A lump formed in Polly's throat. She hadn't anticipated him being so honest---that he had admitted his worry and doubt made her like him even more. Instead of hiding behind some macho façade, he had exposed an inner part of himself, revealing unexpected vulnerability.
'I've been here nine weeks and I still have moments when I feel like that,' she told him, her voice huskier than normal as she matched his honesty with her own.
Dusky lashes lifted and the expression in his eyes, the unique sense of oneness, took her breath away. The intense connection seemed to last an eternity, and was broken only when Luca spoke.
'Nick said you were born in Penhally. Is there not a familiarity for you here?'
'Not really.' Polly bit her lip, unsure how much to tell him. What could she say? That she'd always felt on the outside, looking in? That she'd never belonged? She shook her head, more at herself than at him. 'I left a long time ago, so I doubt people would remember me.'
The slow smile that curved his mouth was brief but incredibly sexy. 'I cannot believe that anyone, having met you, would forget you, Polly.'
Luca's words had a disturbing effect, unexpectedly cracking open the vault in her head into which she'd consigned things she wanted to banish from her memory. Luca didn't know it, but he couldn't be more wrong in his assessment. She'd never made much of a blip on anyone's radar, let alone left any kind of permanent impression.
Whoever had invented the saying 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me' had got it all wrong. At least for her. There had been no sticks or stones but thirteen years of constant verbal abuse had shattered her already shaky self-esteem. Plain Polly from Penhally. The once-familiar taunt returned to her with a suddenness that stole her breath. Worse, tears stung her eyes. Tears she refused to shed at thirty, just as she'd fought against them from the age of four...determined, even then, not to show any outward signs of weakness. She'd lived with the incessant stabbing pain before. She could do so again.
'Polly? What's wrong?'
Concern laced Luca's voice, but Polly shook her head in denial and resolutely avoided looking at him. She was shocked that after meeting only minutes ago, he should be so adept at reading her, so attuned to her inner feelings when she was quite sure nothing showed on the outside. Hiding her emotions was a technique she had perfected from a very young age.
She was saved from replying, or from Luca probing further, because a knock at the door announced the arrival of their first patient. Polly called for them to come in and rose to her feet, finding her knees still too shaky to hold her. What she needed was to refocus her mind and, if not entirely forget that Luca was there, at least be distracted enough by the patient now opening the door not to notice the effect Luca had on her.
'Hello, Mr Murray. Do come in and take a seat.'
Polly fixed a public smile on her face as she offered her greeting. In the nine weeks she had been working here, very few people had recognised her or commented on her return. Which suited her just fine. But how ironic, after Luca's comments just moments ago, that the first patient of their joint surgery together should the father of a girl who had been in her class at school. Not that she expected Mr Murray to remember her---she and Dawn had never had much to do with each other. True, Dawn had teased her a time or two, but she had been nowhere near the worst. And how she had envied Dawn her closeness with her father.
As the sixty-year-old man with greying hair and a distinct stoop to his shoulders shuffled rather than walked into the room, Polly stepped around the desk and went to his aid. She remembered him as a robust, active and jolly man, so it was a huge shock to see how much he had aged in the years since she had last seen him.
'Thank you, Dr Polly.' Mr Murray's smile was warm but tired as he took the arm she offered.
Guiding him to a chair, Polly noted the dark circles under his pale green eyes, as well as the shallowness and raspy sound of his breathing. Clearly there had been no improvement since his last consultation. And now it was up to her to root out what lay behind the man's recurring chest infections. After ensuring he was comfortable, she introduced him to Luca---a quiet presence in the room but one she was continually aware of.
'Mr Murray, this is Dr Luca d'Azzaro.' It took a supreme effort of will, but Polly managed not to look at her new colleague, fearful of becoming trapped by the inexplicable pull he held on her. 'He's joined the medical team today, and is sitting in on a few consultations to familiarise himself with the practice system. Is that all right?'
'Fine by me,' Mr Murray agreed with a smile and a nod towards Luca.
'Dr Donnelly---Adam---suggested I take over from him in providing your care,' Polly continued, again ensuring that none of her inner feelings showed in her expression, 'but if you would rather see someone else, I---'
Mr Murray was swift to interrupt her. 'Goodness, no! Dr Adam gave me the choice, and when I heard you were back in Penhally as a GP, I asked to see you.'
'You did?'
The information took Polly completely by surprise and a lump formed in her throat as she absorbed his words, unable to doubt the sincerity of them. So thrown was she by the knowledge that anyone had specifically asked for her that her mask momentarily slipped before she could regather her composure.
She cleared her throat and tried to find her voice. 'Thank you, Mr Murray.'
'Please, call me Sandy,' he requested, encompassing them both, before a coughing fit overtook him, stripping the smile from his face and replacing it with evident discomfort.
This time Polly couldn't help but glance at Luca, noting that the same concern she felt was reflected in his dark eyes. As she passed Sandy a couple of tissues from the box she kept on her desk, Luca rose to his feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of cool water. When he returned, he rested his hand on the man's shoulder, a gesture of silent support and comfort, waiting until the coughing had subsided and he had gathered himself together before passing over the glass.
Polly's insides warmed at Luca's instinctive caring. It would be so much easier to harden her heart and ignore the fizzing attraction if he wasn't so damn likeable!
'Thanks.' Sandy's voice was rough after the bout of coughing. 'Sorry about that.'
'There is nothing to apologise for,' Polly reassured him, sending Luca a grateful smile as he returned to his chair, her heart jolting as he smiled back.
She had studied Sandy's notes after Adam had spoken to her the day before he had left, and now she handed them to Luca, hoping he would see what she did. As Luca looked through the medical history, Polly gathered her thoughts and focused on the patient.
'Sandy, have things been much the same since your last appointment with Dr Donnelly?' she asked now, eager to hear the patient's point of view.
'Worse, if anything. This is as bad as it's ever been. I feel I've aged about twenty years in the last two,' Sandy confided, his raw chuckle at odds with the tiredness and flicker of fear in his eyes.
Luca caught her gaze and signalled that he would like to ask a question. Appreciating his consideration and grateful for his input, Polly nodded.
'How did all this start, Sandy? Have you always had chest problems, or is it something that has come on gradually?' Luca queried. 'A quick glance at the notes now tells me you used to be a smoker.'
'Aye, I'm afraid so. Forty a day since the age of fifteen. Back then we didn't know it was bad for you,' he admitted with a sigh.
Polly listened as Sandy told them about his job, which had involved him welding in confined spaces---a known trigger for chest problems---and how he had taken early retirement when it had become apparent that the work was having a detrimental affect on his health.
'My chest has worsened over the last two years. The cough has become more persistent and I can't ever shake it off. In the last few months I've had recurring bouts of bronchitis. Dr Adam convinced me that smoking was contributing to my health problems and persuaded me to stop. I haven't had a cigarette since.'
'Which is a fantastic achievement,' Luca praised him.
Polly added her agreement. 'Well done, Sandy. It's not easy breaking a lifelong habit.'
'Aye, well, I can't say that I've noticed much benefit from it.' His smile was wry, his voice maintaining a trace of his Scottish ancestry. 'I've gone from being an active man who enjoyed life to one who gets breathless after walking even a short distance. And then I get these chest infections on top of the wretched cough.'
Polly could see how much it was taking out of him, physically and emotionally. 'It must be very wearing. I'm not surprised you're fed up with it.'
Unable to resist, Polly's gaze was drawn to Luca. A tingle feathered down her spine as she looked into sinful dark eyes, and it was a struggle to drag hers free from his magnetic hold. She sucked in a shaky breath. Then promptly lost every scrap of air her lungs had managed to inhale as Luca touched her. One fingertip rested on the inside of her wrist. That was all. Yet her skin was on fire. Her pulse throbbed in her veins and a current of electricity sparked to every nerve ending. Luca apparently felt it, too, as he snatched his hand back as if scalded. Again her gaze clashed with his, the flare of awareness frightening in its suddenness and intensity.
Luca cleared his throat and looked down. Polly followed suit and saw the notepad he turned towards her. She bit her lip, trying to force away the strange and unwanted responses to the man as she concentrated on her job. She was unsurprised to discover that the four letters he had written with a question mark after it them mirrored her own thoughts in terms of Sandy's diagnosis. Nodding, she turned back to her patient, focusing on him and trying to ignore the way the pad of Luca's finger seemed to have permanently branded her.
Polly picked up her stethoscope and, after taking Sandy's blood pressure and his pulse, she listened to his chest, unsurprised by her findings. Next she discovered some swelling in his ankles, which he told her had been happening over the last couple of months. A gentle press with her fingers produced pitting in the skin that confirmed the oedema.
'Did Dr Donnelly talk to you about what might be wrong, Sandy?' she asked, not wanting to scare the man but needing him to be informed and actively involved in making decisions about his care.
Frowning, Sandy took another sip of his water. 'The last time he said that if things hadn't improved he would send me for a chest X-ray.'
'That's right. It would be wise you for to have that X-ray, Sandy. And I'd like to book you in for a few other tests as well.'
'Like what?' he queried, anxiety making his breathing sound faster and rougher.
Polly perched on the edge of the desk close to him. 'I'd like to do a blood test, and I want you to have a lung-function test. It's called spirometry---it's a bit like a breath test---and it accurately measures the air-flow obstruction and gauges the severity of the problem.'
'And what is the problem?' Sandy asked, his tension obvious.
Polly reached out and laid a hand on his arm. 'Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or COPD, is the rather grand umbrella title used to cover diseases like chronic bronchitis and emphysema. The symptoms can be like asthma, but it's a completely different condition. It's common, especially among those who are, or have been, smokers, exacerbated by certain jobs like yours. Put in simple terms, it causes a narrowing of the airways, preventing you from breathing properly. COPD is classified in stages, and we need to assess which group you fall into so that we can plan a proper course of treatment to help you.'
Sandy released a raspy breath. 'And can this COPD thing be cured?'
'No, I'm afraid not,' she told him honestly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. 'Any damage already done can't be repaired, but what we can do is try to prevent things getting worse and help keep the symptoms in check.' Polly paused a moment, her gaze sliding of its own accord to Luca, her heart skipping as he smiled, approval and support foremost in his eyes. Feeling breathless herself, Polly continued. 'There are various things we can do in terms of medication, inhalers and shortor long-acting drugs. You've already taken a big step by stopping smoking and preventing further damage. Once we know what w're Edealing with, we can talk again and decide what is best for you.'
'It's a lot to take in,' Sandy murmured with a shake of his head.
Polly smiled in sympathy. 'I know. But you can come and see me, or phone me, at any time if you have questions, and we'll be here to work through this with you, Sandy,' she promised him.
'My wife will be worried when I tell her,' he said, a frown creasing his brow.
'By all means bring her with you next time and I'll be happy to explain to her.' Polly straightened and went to her filing cabinet, removing a couple of leaflets from a folder. 'These will give you both the basic information. Once we've put a treatment plan in place, I'd like you to have the annual flu vaccination and also an immunisation against pneumococcus, which is a germ that causes a chest infection. We want to guard against you picking up anything else,' she explained. 'It's also important for you to do some regular exercise once we have things under control---a brisk walk each day would be good. Anything that helps to improve your breathing. Lauren, our physiotherapist, will help you with that.'
Polly returned to her chair and jotted down a few notes. 'Are you able to get to the hospital in St Piran for the X-ray?' she asked.
'Aye, that won't be a problem,' Sandy confirmed. 'My wife or son will take me. I'm not looking forward to telling my daughter what's going on. You remember Dawn, don't you, Dr Polly, love? She was in your class at school.'
'Yes, of course. How is she?' Polly asked, her guard in place, her smile polite.
'Grand, she is! Married now and living in Canada. She'll be pleased to have news of you.'
Conscious of Luca listening in, Polly hurried to bring the subject back to Sandy and his health. 'We'll make an appointment for you to see one of the practice nurses for the blood test and the spirometry, and when we have the results of those, and the X-ray, I'll see you again and we can discuss the options. In the meantime I'm adjusting your prescription to help relieve some of your symptoms.'
'Thanks so much, you're a grand girl,' Sandy told her with a smile.
Embarrassed, Polly rose to her feet to escort him out. 'I'll see you in a week or so, Sandy. But don't forget I'm here if there is anything troubling you.'
'I won't forget. You've both been very kind and helpful.' At the door, he paused and shook her hand, then nodded to Luca. 'Welcome to Penhally, Doctor.'
'Thank you, Sandy. I am already finding my time here very interesting and enlightening.'
Luca's response made Polly tense. His huskily accented voice affected her, but his words made her wary as she very much feared he was referring to more than his interest in Sandy's condition. Having stopped by the reception desk to ensure that Sandy made an appointment to see practice nurse Gemma as soon as possible, Polly asked Sue to send the next patient through. Then she had no excuse not to return to her consulting room. Her nerves were jangling as she prepared herself for seeing Luca again.
He was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers. Polly paused, drinking in the imposing sight of him, so masculine, so attractive, so disturbing. She didn't know what was happening between them, but as Luca turned and his gaze met hers, a surge of electricity shot through her. If the expression in his dark eyes was anything to go by, he was as confused and wary and unwelcoming of the attraction as she was.
She knew nothing about him, had met him only a short time ago, and yet she very much feared Luca d'Azzaro was going to turn her already turbulent life upside down.
'I'M FULLY aware of the pressure on beds but that doesn't excuse discharging a patient so soon after an open cholecystomy, especially when they live alone and have no back-up assistance whatsoever. It isn't going to help the hospital's bed situation if the patient is brought back to St Piran's A and E department in an ambulance with complications requiring readmission, is it?'
Luca smothered a grin as he listened to Polly politely but firmly express her point of view. With the patient's cordless telephone in one hand and the other sketching occasional gestures in the air, she paced the bedroom in the small bungalow, looking for all the world like a brave and bold Valkyrie throwing herself into battle---well, she would if she had a few more inches in height and considerably more weight on her tiny frame.
Glancing at their patient, a fifty-five-year-old widow who had undergone an emergency operation to remove her gall bladder, Luca agreed with the stand Polly was taking. Sitting on the side of Delia Hocking's bed, he held her clammy, trembling hand, sharing Polly's anger that some error or misjudgement had caused Delia to be sent home without adequate analgesia and before she had even eaten anything. Now, aside from the pain, Delia was nauseous---not uncommon after such an operation---and there was some bleeding from the wound. Thankfully, there was no sign of infection. Yet. The risk was there, however, so he and Polly had erred on the side of caution and prescribed some prophylactic antibiotics.
'Maybe you consider that nibbling on half a digestive biscuit is eating proper food, but I'm afraid I don't,' Polly said now, resuming her pacing, a frown on her face as she listened to the person on the other end of the line.
Delia met his gaze. Although her face was grey with pain and exhaustion, humour brought a twinkle of amusement to her hazel eyes. 'Feisty little thing, isn't she?'
'That she is,' Luca agreed with a smile.
Admiration welling within him, his focus strayed back to Polly who was standing by the window, the toes of one sandalled foot tapping the carpeted floor with impatience. Despite his determination to ignore the intense reaction he had felt for her from the moment they had met, his interest and fascination had grown with each day that passed. Now it was Thursday, his fourth day working at the surgery, and while he had come to know Polly extremely well as a doctor, he had discovered frustratingly little about her personally, apart from basic tastes in books, music and that sort of thing.
What meagre details he had gleaned had been thanks mostly to colleagues, especially in the staffroom, where questions had been asked and confidences shared. Everyone had been friendly and welcoming, helping him find his place at the surgery, and it was thanks to the general chat and the occasional moment of indiscretion that he knew that this was the first time Polly had returned to Penhally since leaving at the age of seventeen. He had also learned that Carrick was her mother's maiden name, but no one seemed certain about why or when she had undertaken the change of surname, although rumour suggested that she had, at one time, been married. Whether that meant she was widowed, divorced or separated, he had not yet ascertained.
Luca wanted to know more, much more, but he had declined to ask...so for. Although his list of questions was rapidly multiplying. Polly chose to melt into the background, hoping not to be noticed. Why? At first he'd wondered if it was just him she was wary of, but he'd soon discovered she was the same with everyone. Polly was fiercely private---a trait they shared---and, as she had refrained from probing into his life, so he had shown her the same respect. He was hoping that, in time, she would come to trust him and would freely volunteer some of her secrets.
That Polly was an incredible doctor had been apparent from that first consultation with Sandy Murray. She was a wonderful listener, empathetic and instinctive, and adept at assessing what patients responded to---an arm around the shoulder, a challenge to motivate them, or a push to face up to reality and to take back control of their lives and their bodies. She wanted the best for them and she gave of herself to help them. And Delia was right about the feistiness. Polly gave total support to her patients, fighting battles for them and prepared to take on their problems.
Nick had told him Polly was good with young teenagers, but as far as he could see she was wonderful with everyone, young and old alike. The only times he had seen her in any way uncomfortable and forced was with young children. He didn't believe for a moment that she disliked them, but she was certainly awkward with the younger ones around the age of his twins. He had yet to work out why. In his experience, children were excellent judges of character, and they gravitated to Polly, just as everyone else did, but there was a definite reserve from her. It was yet one more puzzle to figure out about her.
Rosie and Toni were his top priority. Everything he did was for them. And if there was ever to be anyone in his life in future, they would have to love the girls, and the girls them. But that was no more in his plans than flying to the moon, and he had not so much as noticed another woman since Elaine had died...until Polly.
Luca's insides squeezed with pain and guilt and confusion, just as they always did when he thought of Elaine. Then came the lance of hurt at what she had done. He didn't want anyone new in his life, he hadn't even thought about it. So why now? And why, of all women, was it Polly who had captured his attention? In build and colouring she was definitely not the type of woman he had been attracted to before Elaine. And she was nothing like adventurous, outgoing Elaine, who had been tall and athletic, with womanly curves, dark auburn hair and green eyes. But his body appeared to have a will of its own. It was rousing itself from a long---and, he had thought, permanent---hibernation, and, inexplicably, Polly was the was the woman making it happen.
He didn't want this. But day by day he was in deeper and deeper trouble, more and more intrigued by Polly. He couldn't explain it. He didn't understand it. But somehow, from the first moment of meeting her, his inner radar had been plugged directly into Polly's frequency. Not just in physical terms with the searing sexual attraction between them, although his body's instinctive response to her was irrefutable, but...He couldn't find the right word. Not emotionally, or even mentally. More spiritually, which sounded completely wacky and off the wall. But how else to explain the fact that although Polly presented a smiling face and an air of outward calm to the world---and anyone looking at her would think she was fine---he knew it was an act, a public face, hiding her emotions, presenting a serene façade quite at odds to how she was feeling within.
How did he know that? How could he see what no one else could? Things Polly didn't want them to see. He didn't know how, but he sensed when she was unsettled or upset, as had happened with Sandy Murray on Monday when the man had mentioned Polly's past.
His heart skipped a beat as he looked at her now, standing illuminated in a patch of sunlight by the window, her wavy ash-blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her style of dress was unique. She put colours together that ought to clash horribly, but on her they looked right. Long gypsy skirts---today's was a patchwork of purples---several layers of assorted tops that threatened to swamp her, and, on her feet, sandals with little or no heel.
Luca's gaze journeyed down, paused at the flash of bare ankles that looked far too slender to hold her upright, and then he noticed the delicate feet and the purple-painted toenails. His gut tightened. Dio! Now he was developing a toe fetish. The attempt to mock himself failed, and it was a struggle to force his gaze upwards again, where it paused at the collection of assorted bangles on her right wrist that jangled softly as she moved, before returning to her expressive face as she talked.
One word had popped unbidden into his head when he had first met Polly on Monday and, despite trying to keep his distance from her, mentally and physically, he found himself thinking of her by the nickname all the time. Zingarella...little gypsy in Italian.
Time was flying by. He'd been taking his own consultations since Tuesday and had told himself he was relieved to be spending less time in Polly's company, but no matter how many times he told himself he wasn't interested, he found himself looking for her, listening for the sound of her voice and waiting impatiently for the hours they spent together doing home visits, which then rushed by far too quickly. Already the first week was nearly over. One more and he would be on his own and opportunities to work with Polly would be restricted.
Thankfully, after Monday their journeys out together had been undertaken in his car, but today it had let him down, developing a mechanical fault that meant it was now in the local garage, being fixed. It also meant he'd had to break a promise to himself never to get in Polly's car again. It was nothing to do with her driving. It was simply far too cramped, increasing his awareness and confining them so closely that he inhaled the subtle but intoxicating scent of her with every breath---a flowery, old-fashioned scent he couldn't immediately name. But it was heady and sexy and drove him crazy. At least his four-wheel-drive---roomy enough to accommodate two growing girls and their assorted stuff---afforded sufficient space that Polly wasn't brushing against him with every gear change or turn of the steering wheel.
'Yes, of course I'm still waiting!'
Polly's words pulled him from his thoughts and refocused his attention. The exasperation as she responded to the person on the other end of the line was obvious. She turned around and paced back towards the bed. Meeting his gaze, she rolled her eyes, sharing several moments of deep connection before returning her attention to their patient and leaving him trying to regain his equilibrium.
'Don't worry, Delia,' she said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand and sending the woman a warm smile. 'I'm not sending you back to St Piran's unless absolutely unavoidable. I just need to shake them up a bit.'
Luca couldn't help but smile at the image of this half-pint-sized young woman taking on the stubborn bureaucracy of the hospital administrators.
Hearing Delia's moan of pain as she tried to reach out with her free hand for a glass of water, Luca moved to make her more comfortable, supporting her as he held the glass for her. 'Just take a few sips,' he advised her, concerned that too much water too soon might aggravate her nausea.
'I'm sorry to put everyone to this bother,' Delia apologised, the catch in her voice betraying how raw and close to the surface her emotions lay.
'You're not a bother, Delia,' Polly insisted. 'None of this is your fault. We want the best for you.' She hesitated a moment, then smothered a curse. 'If they put me on hold again, I'm going to scream!'
Leaving Polly to focus on her call, Luca took over the task of reassuring Delia. He explained the arrangements he and Polly had already put in place, including switching Delia to stronger painkillers and prescribing an anti-sickness medication as well as the antibiotics.
'Someone will come in morning and night to assist you, and Rebecca Grey, one of Penhally's district nurses, will call in every day to begin with to check your dressing,' he told her, smiling at her surprised expression. 'Polly has spoken with the two neighbours you're friendly with, and both are eager to help you with anything you need, so don't be afraid to ask. And ring the surgery any time. OK?'
Tears moistened Delia's lashes. 'Thank you. You've both been terrific.'
Polly finished her call with the hospital and sat down to speak with Delia. When Polly's mobile phone rang, Luca offered to answer it, and was rewarded with the kind of smile that set his blood on fire and made him think things he had not thought about for a very long time. Disturbed by her affect on him, he picked up the phone and stepped out of the room.
'Oh, hi, Luca,' Chloe greeted him as he answered the call. 'I'm sorry to bother you. We have a bit of a crisis.'
Kate Althorp walked slowly through St Piran Hospital, a place she had become far too familiar with since July and which, after tomorrow, she hoped never to spend time in again. Not as a patient, anyway.
Tomorrow was the last day of her radiotherapy, a necessary treatment after a successful lumpectomy had removed a cancerous growth from her breast but one she had endured the last five weeks and which had left her tired, emotional and with other side-effects like a dry mouth, sore throat and a rash. And, as she approached the end of her treatment, there had been some redness and blistering of the skin. Still, as Rob had said, at least she hadn't been horribly sick.
Thinking about Rob made her smile. And yet she also felt a touch of sadness. He had been so wonderful to her and she had come to care deeply for him, appreciating the fact that, for the first time in years, she didn't have to carry every burden alone. But always at the back of her mind, lurking and tormenting, was the spectre of Nick and his inability to face up to the reality of Jem and his responsibilities.
She hadn't seen Nick since he had come to the hospital after her operation, and she knew he was avoiding her. Just as she knew, thanks to comments from various visitors, that Nick was ever more aloof at work, his moods uncertain, largely due to burning the candle at both ends and apparently working his way through many of the available women in Cornwall. It was none of her business---but it hurt.
Approaching the front doors, where she had arranged to meet Chloe, Kate tried to set Nick aside. It did no good to dwell on him. He found it impossible to give her what she needed, whereas Rob was the exact opposite. He treated Jem the same way he did Matthew, his own son. And, for her, Jem's well-being took priority over everything else.
'Hi, Kate.'
'Polly!'
It took a moment for Kate to adjust her thoughts. Polly was not just her goddaughter but like a younger sister and, most definitely, a friend. Seeing her here now brought a flash of concern at the unexpected change of plan.
'Is everything all right? What's happened to Chloe?'
Polly smiled, linking arms as they walked side by side towards the main doors. 'Chloe's fine. She's sorry not to come herself but even though she isn't on duty, she was called to one of her mums and an emergency delivery.'
'Oh, dear. I do hope mother and baby will be all right.' Worry was uppermost as they stepped outside into the warm September air.
'Chloe says everything is fine,' Polly reassured. 'Luca and I were halfway between here and Penhally on our final home visit, so it was no trouble to come and collect you. And Oliver is taking over for tomorrow because I haven't been able to escape this wretched talk Nick's arranged for me at the school.'
'You'll do fine, my love,' Kate reassured her, hiding her own concern about Polly going back there.
Polly shivered. 'I hope so. About Nick...' she added after a pause.
'What about him?' Kate asked, wariness setting her nerves on edge.
'Chloe said the only other person able to collect you was Nick, and you would rather he didn't.' Kate noted Polly's indecision as she paused and bit her lip. 'Not that I'm sorry to come myself, but I was puzzled. You and Nick were always good friends. Has something happened?'
'It's a long story---and one I'll explain once this week is over and we have some time alone,' Kate promised, dread settling like a lead weight in her stomach.
She owed the truth to Polly, of all people. Indeed, she had planned to confess when Polly had returned to Penhally but the events of the last weeks had pushed all other things from her mind. She couldn't put off the unsavoury task much longer. Despite the September sunshine, Kate shivered. Polly had been fond of James, and Kate didn't relish the prospect of telling her how she, Kate, had betrayed him on the night he'd died. Fresh tears, which seemed to flow all too readily these last few weeks, beaded her lashes.
'Oh, Kate, I didn't mean to upset you!' the younger woman exclaimed.
'You haven't. It's not you, Polly. I seem to cry over nothing at the moment,' Kate joked with a forced smile, eager to change the subject.
As they approached the car, the passenger door opened and a stunningly handsome man emerged. Kate saw the expression in the man's dark eyes as he looked at Polly, and felt Polly stiffen in response. Glancing from one to the other, Kate felt a dart of hope shoot through her. Oh! If only...Polly had been through so much, both as a child and an adult, and from what Kate had heard about the new doctor he, too, had suffered heartache. From the looks of things, they were both fighting the attraction between them, but Kate wished with all her heart that Polly, who so deserved it, would find a way to open herself up to happiness.
'Now, my love,' she said, noting the tinge of colour warming Polly's pale cheeks, 'I presume this is Luca, our new GP?'
Polly drove out the hospital car park and headed in the direction of Penhally, relieved that Kate and Luca were making small talk, absolving her of the need to join in. She had been thrown by the change of plans, and Chloe's call for help had left Polly anxious. Although Kate was usually the soul of discretion, Polly felt uneasy bringing Luca along, with the risk of opening up other aspects of her life to him.
She'd been relieved to get Monday over and for Luca to be taking his own consultations, although she still had over a week of joint home visits to survive. In the last few days she'd discovered that Luca was a fabulous doctor, medically skilled and wonderful with patients, setting young and old at ease. Polly took a surreptitious peep at him in the rear-view mirror. If only he was horrible she would be able to forget him and ignore the good looks. But he wasn't. He was funny, kind and smart. He had the uncanny ability to read her with ease, to see beyond the smile...And he fired her blood in a way no other man had ever done. She forced herself to ignore it because she didn't understand it and she didn't want an involvement with anyone, especially someone with children the age of Luca's.
After being introduced to Kate, he'd been a total gentleman, charming her and giving up the front seat so she would be more comfortable---even though that meant his athletically muscled body was cramped in the rear of the car. He'd then faced the issue of Kate's situation with a directness and a gentleness that Kate had clearly appreciated. And anything that made Kate happy and set her at ease met with Polly's approval.
The older woman had always been strong, coming through whatever life had thrown at her, but Polly knew this was the toughest thing Kate had faced---along with the death of her husband James. Polly was very proud of her friend. She was also relieved that, however difficult things might be for her, facing up to the past and searching for a place where she fitted in, fate had brought her back to Penhally at the very moment Kate had needed all her friends around her.
'Yes,' Kate was saying, in answer to a question from Luca, drawing Polly's attention back to the conversation. 'Tomorrow is my final day of rads, and it can't come soon enough.'
'The last three months must have been an ordeal for you, not to mention very scary,' Polly heard Luca sympathise, the sound of his voice sending a wave of tingles skittering down her spine.
'It's not been easy,' Kate admitted. As Polly halted at a road junction, Kate briefly laid a hand on her arm and smiled. 'But everyone has been wonderfully kind and supportive, especially my little Polly.'
Feeling emotional, and very aware of Luca's presence behind her, Polly shook her head. 'I haven't done anything much.'
'Oh, but you have, my love. Aside from organising the rota for these last two weeks of visits to St Piran's, setting my mind, and Rob's, to rest, just having you here at last, and being able to see you every day, has been so wonderful for me.'
'Kate...'
'The timing couldn't have been worse, of course,' her friend continued, her lack of discretion in front of Luca making Polly intensely uncomfortable. 'I've been so worried about you, and feel as if I've abandoned you. I persuaded you to come back here, after all, and then the minute you do, I'm not around for you...more like the wicked witch than your kind godmother!'
Any hope that Luca might not have heard was dashed when Polly had a quick peep in the rear-view mirror and met his enigmatic dark gaze. She had the eerie feeling that he could see inside her right to her soul. Frightened, she dragged her gaze away and tried to compose herself.
'You didn't ask for this to happen, Kate,' Polly murmured after a moment, focusing on the road and reminding herself not to look at Luca again. 'And there was nowhere else I would have wanted to be but here with you when you were going through this.'
'Bless you, my love.' Kate's voice sounded heavy with emotion. 'You can deny it all you like, but you've done so much for me these last weeks.'
'A mere blip compared with all you have done for me all my life, not just as my godmother but my friend,' Polly replied, hugely relieved when Kate changed direction.
'Jem was my main worry. How can a ten-year-old get to grips with something like this? But he's been tremendous.' Kate half turned in her seat to bring Luca into the conversation. 'Having raised my son alone, I have every admiration for you, Luca. I understand you have twin girls? I imagine that's double the trouble.'
'They can be a handful. And they gang up on me to get their own way!' he confided with a chuckle.
Polly heard the amusement and the love in Luca's voice and a new, even larger lump formed in her throat. Staffroom gossip had furnished the information that Luca's wife had died having the twins. She had tried not to think about the pain he had gone through, tried, too, not to think about two girls without their mother, of the parallels---and differences---with her childhood, and of now and what never could be. Countless times she had told herself not to think of Luca at all, or of his girls, forcing herself to ignore and resist the undeniable attraction she felt but which she knew could never come to anything. But nothing worked. She could not put him out of her mind.
'How old are your girls, Luca?' Kate was asking now, and Polly braced herself against the smart of hurt that she knew would come, along with the despair and the longing and the insidious nagging guilt.
'Rosie and Toni are three---and they'd insist I add the allimportant "three-quarters".' Another throaty, sexy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and despite the riot of emotions roiling within her, the sound teased her, inflaming every nerve ending. 'They'll be four in January.'
'Ah. I see.'
Polly heard the tone of Kate's voice and knew she was looking at her, but she stared studiously ahead, refusing to react, scared in case she made a fool of herself in front of Luca. A silence fell, one that now felt charged, and Polly was uncomfortably aware of Luca behind her, concerned in case anything Kate had divulged would register with him. Her pulse was rapid, she could feel it throb at the base of her neck, and her chest felt tighter and tighter as she tried to contain the confusing mixture of feelings that threatened to press in on her. Old memories and old pain, stirred up by her return to Penhally, clashed with more recent heartbreak and turmoil. And now, thrown into the cauldron to be jumbled up with the rest, was everything relating to Luca...
The unwanted attraction.
The assault on her senses.
And his daughters.
She needed desperately to be alone right now to sort things through in her head and get her emotions and her memories under control. Hopefully the remainder of the journey back to Penhally would be completed quickly and without further incident. But they had barely covered another mile when Kate spoke again.
'Lilacs!'
Taken completely by surprise, Polly frowned. 'I'm sorry?'
'Your scent. I knew I recognised it, but it's been such a long time since I smelled it,' Kate told her. 'It's just hit me. Lilacs---it's what your mother used to wear.'
'Yes.'
The whispered word escaped her lips. So many things about her mother had faded from her memory and she hated it that she could not draw on more, that she had nothing more of her to touch and to remember, that she could not even recall her face. But she had only been four when her mother had died. She did remember the lilacs, and all her life their scent had reminded her of the mother she had loved so much and lost so young. It was something she could wrap herself in, like an invisible comfort blanket. She had worn it since she had struck out on her own when she had been seventeen, trying to keep what she could of her mother close to her.
Kate reached out again and lightly brushed her arm. 'Yvonne would have been so proud of you, my love. Just as I am. As if you were my own daughter.'
Polly was unable to force any response past the restriction in her throat, and her fingers tightened around the steeringwheel as she fought back the sudden tears that threatened to blur her vision.
'When I feel up to it, Rob's going to help me go through the stuff I've been hoarding in the attic,' Kate continued, resting her head back against the seat, her tiredness evident. 'There are some things there that I packed away a long time ago---now you might like to have them.'
Polly sucked in a ragged breath, trying to steady herself and not be too hopeful in case of further disappointment. 'Kate, do you have any photos of my mother?'
'I know there are some amongst the attic treasures. If there are any you haven't already got, I can get you some copies done,' Kate offered.
'I don't have any.'
Sitting cramped in the back of the too-small car, Luca had to strain to hear Polly's words she was talking so quietly. Kate turned to look at her and, in profile, he saw her frown of confusion. 'Your mum had albums full of photos. She loved them. You used to sit on her lap and beg her to tell you the stories behind each one. Don't you remember?'
Polly nodded, but Luca saw her knuckles whiten as she clung to the steeringwheel. From where he was sitting, he could see the reflection of part of her face, but he was well aware of her tension, could hear it in her voice. It had been there when Kate had asked him about the twins, increasing when he had spoken of their ages, puzzling him, but it had now intensified and he felt the emotion coming off Polly in waves. She hid it well, but it unsettled him that he knew how she was feeling, unsettled him, too, that despite knowing he should leave well alone and keep away from Polly, he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to unravel her mysteries and find out what was wrong. He had no idea what was upsetting her but it felt, to him, as if she was at the end of her tether.
'I'd love to see those albums again,' Kate continued, apparently oblivious of Polly's inner distress, although it was shouting out at him. 'Do you have them?'
'No.'
'Oh, that's a shame. Whatever could have happened to them?' Kate mused.
Luca wanted to tell Kate to stop. Could she not see that her questions were upsetting Polly?
He leaned forward, catching the sweetness of Polly's scent, able to identify it now, learning the significance of it for Polly. Her hands were still tightly clenched and her face was pale. She headed the car down the hill and into the centre of Penhally to the sea, before turning left out of Bridge Street and into Harbour Road, driving around half of the horseshoeshaped seafront. As they neared the surgery, Polly turned left again and, within moments they had covered the short distance up to Kate's house and were drawing into the kerb outside.
'Polly? What is it?'
The anxiety in Kate's voice alerted him, and Luca shifted closer.
For a moment Polly sat still, staring straight ahead. Then she spoke. 'The albums. He burned them.'
Although the words were whispered, they seemed to echo loudly in the confines of the car.
'Oh, Polly.' Kate sucked in a breath, pressing one hand to her throat, her other hand once more going out to rest on Polly's arm. 'I'm sorry, my love. I never thought.'
Polly shook her head and scrambled out of the car. As Kate rummaged in her handbag, Luca opened the rear door and, feeling a bit like a sardine escaping a tin can, he eased himself out and stretched his limbs. He and Polly reached for the passenger door's handle at the same moment. The brief brush of flesh on flesh before Polly snatched her hand away was enough to leave him feeling singed, sending a charge of electricity and desire shooting through him. Dio! He had to get a grip.
As Polly stood back, clearly not wanting a repetition, any more than he did, he opened the door for Kate and held out his hand to help her out. 'Thank you, Luca.' The older woman smiled up at him, but he could see how exhausted she was.
He was surprised when Kate lingered, maintaining her hold on his arm. In her free hand she had her keys, and she held them out to Polly.
'Would you mind getting the front door open for me?' she asked.
Polly looked puzzled but did as Kate asked. 'No problem,' she agreed, taking the keys.
When Polly had crossed the pavement and opened the gate, Kate turned to him. 'Luca, watch out for Polly.'
No matter how many times he told himself he wanted nothing to do with Polly beyond a friendly working relationship, with each moment spent in her company, he wanted to know more about her. The nagging feeling persisted that beneath her serene exterior something wasn't right---and now, hearing Kate's concern, he knew he would not be able to keep his distance.
The relationship between Polly and Kate was a very close and special one. From the conversation in the car, and the fact that Kate was Polly's godmother, it was obvious that Kate had been friends with Polly's mother and, of course, had known Polly as a child. What had happened back then? Why was Polly upset? And who had burned something Polly had treasured?
The more he found out about Polly, the less he knew and the more questions he had that needed answers. Why had Polly left the village all those years ago? All this time later, Kate had persuaded a reluctant Polly to come back to Penhally. Why now? And why had Polly needed persuading?
'Kate?' Polly called from the porch at the front of the pretty, whitewashed cottage.
'Just a minute, my love.'
Luca looked round at the exchange, his gaze resting on Polly. Even across the distance that separated them he could see the confusion and anxiety evident on her face. She looked small and fragile and exquisitely lovely. The heart he had been sure would never feel anything again clenched inside him. He should walk away. Before the twins got involved or anyone was hurt. Now, while he still could.
'Luca?'
Dragging his gaze from Polly, he looked down into Kate's eyes, seeing the worry and the plea in their depths, and he found himself nodding his head without making a conscious effort to do so.
'Thank you.'
Having secured his acceptance, Kate walked slowly up the path to join Polly. At the door, the two women hugged and as they drew back he saw Kate rest the palm of one hand against Polly's cheek. He couldn't hear what words were spoken, but everything about Polly's tiny frame screamed of aloneness and inner unhappiness. He had enough to contend with, coming to terms with what Elaine had done and giving everything to care for the girls as they began this new chapter of their lives in Penhally. There was no room for anything or anyone else.
But as Polly walked back down the path towards him, sapphire-blue eyes reflecting her confusion, unease and the awareness she was fighting as hard as he was, he knew he was already in too deep and that it was now too late to turn back.
TOSAY she'd had reservations when Nick had sprung the young persons' drop-in clinic on her so soon after her arrival would have been an understatement, Polly admitted. Aside from being new to the medical team and not wanting to step on anyone's toes, there had been a nagging concern in the back of her mind that working closely with young teens here in Penhally might trigger memories she would sooner remain buried in the past where they belonged.
Having once committed to the project, however, Polly had thrown herself into it wholeheartedly. The surgery's community room was used for various groups and activities on different days of the week, including the new rape crisis centre, which Nick's niece, Charlotte, ran on a Wednesday. Furnished like a common room or large living room, with sofas and armchairs and occasional tables, it was an ideal venue for the teenagers, helping them feel relaxed and comfortable.
From the first day the clinic had opened in early August, it had been obvious that it had struck a chord with the local youth. More people came each week, and while some just looked around and took a few leaflets, others stayed, asked questions and joined in group discussions. A few took the opportunity for an informal but confidential chat in the private room next door about a wide range of things bothering them, from medical or emotional issues to family, friends or school problems.
Distracted, Polly stared out of the window, wondering what she would have done had a clinic like this been available when she had been a teenager. Her throat tightened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. There had been no similar resource back then. And with Reg preventing her from having regular access to Kate, the one person she might have been able to talk to, Polly had coped alone. With hindsight some of her choices had been poor ones, but she had survived. Sort of. She struggled to push back the past, refusing to let it take hold of her.
She dragged her focus back to today. It had been the busiest Saturday so far, and she had been grateful for an extra pair of hands...even though they had come in the disturbing form of Luca d'Azzaro. His presence had allowed her more one-on-one time with those who needed it. But when just so much as thinking of him made her blood heat and squeezed the aching knot deep inside her, having him around all the time kept her nerves jangling and her senses on red alert.
Frowning, Polly reflected on the situation with Luca. She was increasingly confused, especially as there had been a subtle change since Thursday's car journey with Kate. It was nothing she could put her finger on, but the charge between them felt more electric, and she was even more on edge and aware of him. She had met him less than a week ago and had tried hard to keep things on a purely professional footing, refusing to ask any personal questions or acknowledge her growing curiosity about him.
But no matter how much she reminded herself of the misjudgements and mistakes she had made in the past, and of her promise to herself never to trust anyone again or give herself up for any other man, it was becoming more and more diffi cult to ignore her attraction and growing feelings for Luca. Which made her fearful that the shield she had worked so hard to create around herself was not as impenetrable as she had hoped. At least when it came to Luca.
Polly glanced up as the door of the community room opened and the object of her thoughts stepped into the room. Immediately she felt warmth bloom across her cheeks and hastily dragged her gaze from his, busying herself tidying up the stacks of leaflets to file them away and leave the room ready for the next group to use it.
'Hi,' Luca greeted her. 'That's the last of them away. I've just locked the main door.'
Polly nodded in acknowledgement, then looked down. She had left her hair loose today, hoping to appear more approachable for the youngsters, and now she welcomed the effect as it fell forward to screen her face. But her hands shook, betraying her, so she pulled them away, clasping them behind her out of sight.
'Thanks for your help, Luca. It's been a busy day.'
'I've enjoyed it. They're nice kids. And they're gaining so much from what you're doing for them,' he praised her.
'It was Nick's brainchild, not mine.' She frowned, still puzzled by the whole thing. 'I just wonder why he didn't set it up before.'
'Nick didn't have you before.'
The huskily accented voice, laced with both amusement and appreciation, made her chest feel tight. It was almost impossible to draw enough air into her lungs as Luca perched casually on the arm of a two-seater sofa nearby and smiled...a rare, slow, sexy smile that ought to come with a government health warning. Polly swallowed, trying not to notice the way faded jeans hugged the length of athletically muscled legs or how his grey jumper accentuated his colouring and masculinity.
Her blood pressure rose as she recalled how the hem of the jumper had risen several times during the day as he had stretched, exposing a tantalising sliver of olive-toned skin---smooth at the back and sides but with an intriguing line of dark hair running down from his navel to disappear below the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers had itched to touch him and, feeling hot and bothered, she had to clench them together now to prevent them giving in to temptation.
Feeling jumpy, she longed to escape, but the only route to the door would necessitate her pushing past Luca. So she held her ground and tried to focus on the topic at hand and not on her runaway thoughts.
'I don't know that I have anything to do with it,' she protested.
'It has everything to do with you, zingarella.' Her heart throbbed under her ribs as he chuckled, and she bit her lip, wondering what he had called her. 'You may not recognise it, but you have a special gift with people. And the youngsters gravitate to you and feel comfortable with you. That's what Nick saw---it's what I can see,' he added, dark eyes watching her intently. 'You have an instinctive knack of getting to the heart of what is troubling the teenagers, and you set them at ease. You have a natural empathy and ability to listen, you take on people's problems, and you inspire trust and confidence because you make them feel as if they matter.'
'Luca...'
Flustered, Polly broke off. She had no idea what to say. Aside from Kate, no one had ever believed in her before and that Luca, who had known her less than a week, could say these things with apparent sincerity confused her completely. It also made keeping him at a distance ever more difficult.
'I lost count of the number of people who said they had heard of the clinic but it was listening to your talk and meeting you at the school yesterday that convinced them to come. It's you they come for, Polly.'
The talk Nick had arranged with the headmaster and which Polly would have given anything to avoid. She had not expected Luca to accompany her, but he had. And, once more, he had been scarily sensitive to her emotions, picking up straight away on her nervousness and anxiety. He'd been supportive and understanding, although Polly felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't corrected his assumption that her unease was because she didn't like to speak in public. Thankfully, he'd had no idea of the real reason for, or the extent of, her inner turmoil.
Aside from the surgery, she'd managed to stay away from any places in Penhally that might provoke memories she was not yet able to cope with. Until yesterday. Visiting the school had threatened to be worse than she had anticipated...had it not been for Luca.
Painful memories of her years growing up in Penhally had assailed her as soon as she had seen the building. For a few moments she had been frozen to the spot, scarcely able to breathe as the sudden weight of her past had crashed down on her. Luca had stopped beside her. He hadn't said a word, but had taken her hand in his and linked their fingers.
It was only now that she looked back on it with a clear head that she realised how she had clung to him, energised by the surge of electricity that had flowed between them, absorbing his strength, able to do what had to be done because he had been there beside her. And that frightened her. She had learned the lessons of the past and knew she could never again rely on anyone but herself, yet for those moments, with Luca, she had forgotten. For a short span of time she had not felt alone. And it had felt far too good.
Acutely aware that just thinking about his touch made her hand tingle all over again, she turned away from his steady, silent inspection, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself. Searching for something---anything---she remembered Nick's comments on the day Luca had arrived.
'I'm sure some of the teenagers, the boys in particular, felt more comfortable talking to a man and were glad you were here,' she murmured, fidgeting once more with the leaflets she still needed to put away. 'You have an interest, too.' Pausing, unable to help herself, she looked up and met his dark, watchful gaze. 'Why did you give up your ambition to be a paediatric surgeon?'
Luca felt the unexpected question like a body blow and it took a moment for him to catch his breath. Polly had neatly turned the tables on him, guarding her own secrets yet trying to expose his own. Had it been anyone else, he would have given the usual flippant answer to brush the enquirer off, but it was Polly who for the first time in the whole week had actually shown any sign of interest or asked him anything about himself. And because it was Polly, because he wanted her to trust him, to know him, despite the battle that still raged inside him against what he was beginning to feel for her, he told her the truth.
'Paediatric surgery, and working with the older children in particular, was my dream, and what I went into medicine to do,' he began, standing up and sinking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 'I worked ludicrously long hours during my training to achieve my goal, extra hours that I could---should---have spent at home with Elaine. When she died...'
Luca paused, bracing himself, anticipating the customary stab of pain, confused and unsettled to find that it had dulled to a raw ache and no longer seared through him like a red-hot lance. He moved away, needing time to think, aware he had left out a huge chunk of important information but not yet ready to tell Polly what Elaine had done, or of his feelings, his guilt, concerned she would think badly of him. As he did of himself. Turning round, he discovered Polly hadn't moved, but was watching him through big blue eyes. There was no pity in their depths, but he saw sorrow, pain on his behalf, and the kind of empathy that inspired such confidence and trust from her patients.
Closing the gap between them again, he continued with the edited version of his tale. 'Suddenly I was left alone with newborn twins. And while grieving for Elaine, I somehow had to make important decisions about what to do.'
'It must have been impossibly difficult---a time of very mixed emotions.'
'Yes, it was,' he admitted, finding Polly as easy to talk to as he'd expected, and grateful that she faced things head on. 'I couldn't right the wrongs of the past, but I knew things had to change if I was to be any kind of father to Rosie and Toni. There were people who said I should give the girls up for adoption.'
'What nonsense. How could anyone suggest something like that?' she asked with evident disbelief and anger.
Luca was warmed by her support, amused by her fierce indignation, and alerted by a brief yet unmistakable flash of intense, dark pain. Puzzled, he filed the moment away for later. 'I don't know, but adoption was never an option.'
'Of course not.' Her voice was throaty with emotion, tightening his gut and firing his blood, but again he noted the underlying pain. 'How did you cope?'
'I had no close family in Italy by then. My only grandparent died when I was eleven, and my parents, who spent long periods of time working abroad, died when I was sixteen. But Elaine's parents were wonderfully supportive, and not just to the girls. Jane and Brian were like a second mother and father to me,' he confided, smiling as he thought of his in-laws.
'They were in Cornwall?'
'That's right.' In response to Polly's soft query, he explained how he had met Elaine when she had been backpacking in Italy during her gap year, and how they had fallen in love, changing the course of both their lives. 'We lived in Cornwall for a while, and I did some of my early training at St Piran's, but there came a point when Elaine and I decided to move back to Italy.'
Once more Luca hesitated. He didn't want to play what-if games in his head for the umpteenth time and wonder if Elaine would still be alive today if they had remained in Cornwall. Or if, at any point during those years, Elaine would have told the truth about the risk of what they were doing, and if he could have made her stop. If he had, of course, he would never have had the twins. Familiar guilt ripped at his heart. No man should have to make a choice between the lives of his wife and his children. Elaine had made the decision for him, driven by her single-minded determination---yet the consequences had been like playing Russian roulette with her life and those of the twins.
Elaine had paid the ultimate price. And he had lost the wife he loved. But he had gained their twins...her final gift to him. He'd wanted Elaine back, but how could he wish away his daughters? It had been an impossible situation, one that even now he had not properly resolved in his head. All he did know was that he didn't blame the girls or resent their existence, even though there had been moments of anger at Elaine...and himself. An unsteady breath shuddered through him.
'Luca, what is it?'
The whispered words and the light touch of Polly's fingers on his wrist brought him back with a start. Before she could move away, he captured her hand, needing her touch, the comfort of human contact. For a moment he looked at the contrast of her pale skin against his darker tones, entranced by the impossible fragility in the bones of her slender hand and graceful fingers. His gaze slowly trailed up over her floaty skirt---which today was a swirl of greens and blues---and over the now familiar layers of assorted tops she wore and which so effectively masked her body.
That brought him up short and for a moment he frowned, wondering why the fact that Polly was in hiding had not occurred to him before. Now that it had, he couldn't shake the thought. And when he saw the jumble of emotions chasing across her eyes, he knew he was right. He'd been aware of her heightened emotions at various times during the week, most especially with Kate, and yesterday at the school, when he had been uncertain of their cause but had welcomed her acceptance of his efforts of support. Now, though, he saw so much more. He saw the pain that raged inside her. A pain that might stem from a very different cause---and why/how/who/what/ when questions raged in his mind---but that appeared as deeply ingrained as his own. Maybe it was one of the reasons they were so drawn to each other...one lost soul instinctively recognised and reached out to another.
'Luca?'
This time Polly's voice was laced with wary uncertainty, enough for him to refocus on what he had been saying but not enough for him to relinquish her hand when she tried to withdraw it. He could deny it and fight it all he wanted, but Polly set him on fire and his flesh burned from the contact with hers.
'Jane and Brian brought me and the girls back to Cornwall.' He cleared his throat, needing to finish the story before he could turn to other things. 'I finished my training at St Piran's, and they cared for the girls while I was at work. If I had continued with paediatric surgery, it would have entailed long shifts, spells of night duty and a lot of weekends, but I knew I needed a more settled routine and to work better hours if I was to have more time to be a father to my daughters, so I switched to general practice, which offered what I needed.'
He was aware of Polly searching his own expressions and he tried to keep himself open to her, wanting her to trust him the same way. 'Do you miss the surgery?'
Another kick-in-the-gut question. 'Sometimes, yes. But I genuinely enjoy being a GP,' he confided truthfully. 'Brian and Jane were both in their early seventies when the twins were born---Elaine was a late, unexpected but longed-for child after previous miscarriages and health problems.' Problems Elaine had inherited and which, combined with others, had led to the fatal complications with the twins---facts she hadn't shared with him until too late. He cleared his throat and pressed on. 'Brian and Jane became ever more frail and found it impossible to care for two active, growing girls. I arranged other help, not entirely successful, then this post came up. It was time for a change, for me to take responsibility for raising my daughters, and for Jane and Brian to relax.'
The older couple had a lot of medical issues between them and Luca was very concerned about them. He'd been relieved by their decision to move to a flat in a warden-assisted, sheltered-housing complex along the coast from Penhally.
'The girls must miss them,' Polly murmured, echoing his thoughts.
'They do. It was a big change in routine for them. We see them often, although their failing health means not for too long each time. Rosie and Toni can be frighteningly intuitive for such tiny tots.'
As he finished, he noted Polly's increased tension and emotional distance when he talked of his daughters. Why? It was the question that seemed to crop up most often with Polly. The more he learned about her, the less he seemed to know.
He hadn't so much as looked at another woman from the moment he'd set eyes on Elaine twelve years ago, and that he not just noticed but was so attracted to Polly felt like a betrayal of the wife he had loved. His emotions and his libido had died with Elaine. He hadn't imagined them ever coming back to life. Apparently they'd only been in hibernation because his body responded in a once-familiar way to Polly, his interest and attraction increasing every day.
Why Polly? Why now? And what was he going to do about it?
Polly remained an intriguing and complicated puzzle, more and more difficult to solve and understand. As he watched her, she bit her lip, her gaze still averted following his mention of the twins, and his free hand moved with a will of its own, tipping up her chin before his fingers brushed her cheek. Even though his other hand was still holding hers, the instant his fingers made contact with her face it felt as if he had been plugged into an electric socket, so intense was the physical charge that shot through him.
Blue eyes widened in surprise but he also saw the answering awareness she failed to mask. Anxiety and confusion were evident, too, and gave him pause. Even white teeth nervously nibbled the soft swell of her lower lip, firing his blood and driving him insane. His thumb traced the outline of her upper lip, with its cute Cupid's bow, before teasing across the lower one, erasing the tiny indentations left by her teeth.
He heard her breath hitch and felt the racing of her pulse in her wrist. Her pounding heartbeat matched his own. This was crazy, and he knew it. If anyone had told him a week ago that he'd be lusting after and feeling protective of any woman, let alone one so opposite from Elaine, he would have considered having them certified. But Polly, his unique and fragile little gypsy, had thrown his life and his mind into total disarray, burrowing under his skin and refusing to be whittled out again.
'You were married once, too?' he ventured after a mo-ment's silence, needing a few answers of his own.
'Yes.'
He barely heard her, so soft was her voice, but he registered the hurt that clouded her eyes and dulled their light. Again the pad of his thumb explored the succulent temptation of her lower lip. 'What happened, Polly?'
She shook her head, and long, dusky lashes lowered to hide her expression. Luca curbed his frustration, eager to uncover all her mysteries but scared of pushing too much too soon. A while ago he would never have imagined making this much progress with her. But he was desperate to know why Polly and her husband had divorced...and whether she was still in love with the man. That thought brought an uncomfortable burn far too reminiscent of jealousy.
'We've both had to adapt and cope, haven't we, zingarella?' he whispered, leaning closer, breathing in the delicious scent of lilacs, feeling the tremor that rippled through her. It took every scrap of self-restraint not to close the last of the distance and kiss her but it was too soon---for both of them. 'Sometimes life throws us unexpected challenges, no?'
Luca was startled by Polly's sudden humourless laugh. 'What a masterful understatement, Luca.'
The touch of uncharacteristic sarcasm was overridden by the raw emotions in her voice that conveyed not only agreement but also regret and a soul-deep pain that shook him to the core. Yet as he cupped her face, savouring the downy softness of her skin, concern for her was rivalled by the growing temptation that challenged the resolution he had made only moments ago not to kiss her.
'Talk to me,' he encouraged, hoping she could start opening up to him.
She shook her head. 'I can't.'
'Polly, I---'
To his intense frustration, the emergency bell sounded at the front door. He wanted more time alone with Polly, but the possibility that someone was in need could not be ignored. The bell rang again, and he cursed. Sighing, he stroked her face one last time, lost in the turmoil swirling in her eyes, then he allowed himself the briefest, lightest of kisses...brushing her lips with his own, getting the tiniest, most tantalising hint of her taste, whetting his appetite and leaving him craving more.
'This isn't finished, zingarella,' he whispered as he stepped back, reluctantly releasing her, his hands dropping to his sides as the bell rang a third time.
Aware of Polly's confusion, feeling as mixed up as she was, he forced himself to turn away and leave the room before he did something crazy---like throw all caution and common sense to the wind, gather her slender frame up in his arms, kiss her senseless and set them both on fire.
Left alone, and with her legs unable to hold her up a moment longer, Polly sank down, grateful there was a chair behind her. The information leaflets she'd been holding slipped from her nerveless fingers and scattered across the floor. Luca had been going to kiss her. Which was scary enough. More frightening still was that she had wanted him to...and was disappointed that he hadn't.
She had learned much more about him---about his wife, his loss, his daughters, and the changes he had made to his life to give the little girls the best he could. His pain had been evident and had twisted her heart. It had taken every bit of strength she possessed not to give in to her instinct to hug him. She was vulnerable to him and that made him dangerous, but keeping her distance, as she knew she must, was becoming harder with each passing day.
Luca's questions about her own marriage had caught her off guard. She never liked to think about Charles. Not for any reason. Kate was the only person who knew anything about what had happened, and even then Polly had been very careful to edit and censor her story, so the sudden compulsion she had experienced to confide in Luca had rocked her to the core. The thought of Luca knowing about her life, her mistakes, her marriage and what she had done, sent a chill down her spine. And the very fact that it mattered what he thought of her, and that she was even thinking like this, brought home how far he had broken through her defences in six days. Defences she had worked so hard to build since she had finally managed to put Charles behind her.
To this day she didn't know how something that had started out with such promise could have gone so badly wrong. She had believed in her marriage vows and had meant every word, including 'for better, for worse'. But that had been before she'd known what 'worse' was. Or that sometimes there came a point where you had to think of yourself, to recognise that however hard you try, other people have to take responsibility for their own actions and decisions, and there was nothing more you can do for them. All that was left was to survive...and to be safe, you have to walk away. By the time she had understood that and had reached that point with Charles, it had almost been too late, and the cost of doing it was more than she would ever have wanted to pay.
She had been living with the aftermath for nearly four years now. About three months longer than Luca had been living with his. Listening to him, she had heard his pain and anger and confusion, but also his love for his daughters, and she couldn't imagine how difficult it had been for him to have to try and reconcile gaining his children at the cost of his wife's life.
Hurting, for him and for herself, she slipped off the chair and knelt on the floor to begin gathering up the scattered leaflets, finding that her hands were still shaking in reaction. Distracted, she sat back on her heels, her fingers touching lips that still tingled from softest brush of his. Her eyes closed as she relived those few moments with Luca. She had been aroused by his subtle masculine scent and his gentle caresses, her whole body had been energised, her senses on high alert, and she had yearned for so much more.
Luca had said it wasn't finished, but it had to be. She couldn't allow anything else to happen, for many reasons. A sigh escaped as she tried to push her thoughts of Luca aside. Needing to return to her task if she was ever to finish up and escape for some time alone, Polly opened her eyes, smothering a gasp when she found herself looking at what had to be one of Luca's daughters. The little girl's dark brown eyes, so like her father's, were filled with curiosity. Dressed in a pretty red-and-white spotted dress, she stood a couple of feet away, silent and watchful, her silky dark hair cut into a bob that didn't quite reach her shoulders, her skin tone a shade or two lighter than Luca's.
Fearing that her heart was going to rip right out of her chest, Polly sucked in a steadying breath, completely unprepared for this moment. 'Hello. What's your name?' she finally managed, struggling not fall apart as pain washed through her.
'I'm Rosie.' The little girl stepped closer. 'Are you Polly?'
'Yes, that's right.' The realisation that Luca had spoken about her to his children added to her surprise and confusion.
Rosie's impish smile tightened the band around Polly's chest. 'You're Papà's friend.'
'We work together,' Polly murmured, her voice sounding rough as she tried to contain the emotions she feared might emerge if confronted with Luca's children.
Rosie tilted her head, an endearing little moue of consideration on her face. Despite herself, Polly couldn't help but be amused and enchanted by this gorgeous child. It took considerable willpower to resist the instinct to invite Rosie into her arms for a hug. Experiencing a wave of desperation, unsure how long she could maintain her composure, Polly looked towards the door, hoping Luca would come and collect his little stray.
'Toni hurt her hand and Papà is trying to mend it,' Rosie told her.
'I'm sure your sister will be fine.' Polly swallowed as the little girl edged closer until she could feel her pressing gently against her arm. 'Your Papà is a very good doctor.'
Rosie gave another sweet smile. 'He makes people better. Do you do that, too, Polly?'
'I try to.'
Apparently satisfied, Rosie nodded, leaning into her. 'What are you doing?'
'I dropped these leaflets on the floor and now I have to tidy them up. Do you want to help me?' she asked.
'OK.'
Rosie knelt down beside her and reached for one of the leaflets. Then another. Side by side they worked together in silence for a few moments and Polly would have laughed at the incongruity of it had she not been so on edge.
'Rosie?' Luca called from further down the corridor.
A lump lodged in Polly's throat at the way girl's face lit up in response to the sound of her father's voice. 'Rosie's with me, Luca,' she managed, steeling herself for the customary jolt that always rocked her when she saw him.
He arrived in seconds, looking heartstoppingly sexy. 'Sorry about that. Carol, the childminder, knew I was here and brought them along when Toni cut herself rather than try and dress it herself or wait for me to pick them up in half an hour or so.'
'That was sensible of her. It must be a relief to have found someone reliable,' Polly murmured, still feeling very unsure and discomfited.
'It is. Nick put me in touch with her,' he informed her. 'She looks after some of his grandchildren and works closely with the nursery school, so it was ideal.'
For a moment Polly's gaze lingered on his mouth, warmth stealing across her cheeks as she recalled their nearly-kiss, then she looked away, suffering another painful pang as she focused on the girl holding his hand.
Almost identical to Rosie in terms of facial features, Toni's cheeks were slightly thinner, while her hair was an inch or so shorter. She was wearing jeans, trainers and a green sweatshirt with animal pawprints on it, and her free hand sported a neat bandage.
'And how is Toni?' Polly was moved to ask as Luca let go of the little girl's hand and she skipped across to join her sister.
'She's fine...thankfully. The cut on the heel of her hand just needed cleaning and gluing.' His caring, benevolent smile as he moved close to his daughters and reached out to ruffle Toni's hair stripped another layer from Polly's frozen heart. 'This one is always up to mischief, aren't you, trottola?'
As Toni grinned, unrepentant, Rosie tugged at his other hand, claiming his attention. 'I've been helping Polly, Papà.'
'So I see, topolino,' he praised, gently tweaking the little girl's nose and making her giggle.
Hearing his pet names for his children and seeing how wonderful he was with them only added to Polly's pain. For a moment her gaze clashed with his, and the speculative gleam in his dark eyes made her acutely uncomfortable. She had no idea what he was thinking, just as he could have no idea what she was feeling. And she hoped to keep it that way. She didn't want Luca to know.
'You've been a great help, Rosie.' Rising shakily to her feet, Polly took the leaflets the girl held out to her. 'Thank you.'
Adding the papers to her own, she crossed the room and filed them away with much less care than usual, driven only by a desperate need to be alone to lick her wounds.
All week she had worked hard to keep Luca at a distance, and not to talk about, see pictures of or meet his children. She had sensed at once that he was dangerous to her but she had failed miserably at protecting her fragile heart. Now, what she had feared all along had happened. She was drawn to Rosie and Toni with as much need and yearning as she was to their father, but it was an impossible dream.
With unsteady fingers she fumbled with the key as she unlocked the desk drawer and took out her bag. Turning round, she saw the smiles on two adorable little faces, and then the puzzlement, concern and contemplation in Luca's eyes. There, right before her, was everything she had wanted but would never now have. A good man. Lovely children. Fixing an overbright smile on her face, she edged towards the door.
'I'll leave you to lock up if that's OK,' she murmured, unable to meet Luca's gaze again.
Disappointed protests came from both girls, surprising her and bringing the threat of tears.
'Do you have to go?' Luca queried.
Backing up as he took a couple of steps towards her, Polly nodded, hoping her desperation didn't show in her voice. 'Yes.'
As she turned once more for the door, a tug on her skirt detained her and she looked down, finding Rosie beaming up at her. Confused, she hesitated, then Rosie beckoned for her to bend down. Polly did so, only for the little girl to shock her once again.
'Bye, Polly,' she whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Polly felt the burn of emotion at the back of her throat. 'Bye.' It was the only word she could manage and even then it sounded strangled.
She took a last look back at the special little family who had so swiftly and devastatingly breached her defences, then she fled. It hurt so much to remember, to think, to wonder how like Luca's two beautiful little girls her own daughter might have been. She would be the exact age of Rosie and Toni now...had she lived.
'THE girls---especially Rosie---seem very taken with Polly. Who is she?' Jane Watson asked.
Sitting opposite his motherin-law, and subjected to her direct green gaze, Luca felt himself blushing like a school-boy, the mention of Polly's name sparking off an array of conflicting reactions. 'She's one of the doctors in Penhally.'
'And you like her?'
'I like all my new colleagues,' he responded, hoping the basic truth of his answer would mask his deeper confusion about Polly.
Jane chuckled. 'Luca!'
'I don't know. No. Yes.' Luca sighed, dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation. 'Look, I've only known her a week.'
'You and Elaine were certain of your feelings within hours of meeting,' Jane pointed out with maddening calm.
'This is a completely different situation. And Polly is nothing like Elaine,' he added, concerned how his in-laws might feel at the idea of another woman attracting his attention.
'And that's a good thing.' Leaning forward, Jane laid a hand on his arm and smiled. 'It shows you're ready and this might be real.'
Luca frowned. 'How do you mean?'
'Because you're not looking for someone like Elaine, trying to conjure up a substitute,' she explained.
'I'm not looking for anyone,' Luca insisted, troubled about the situation with Polly. 'There was only one Elaine.'
'I know, my love.' Jane's smile was tinged with sadness, and Luca followed her gaze as she looked at the photograph of Elaine on the mantelpiece.
Elaine and Polly were different in every way. He didn't want a replacement. He hadn't thought he wanted anyone, but a week with Polly and he was being forced to rethink everything. Not that he felt he knew her much better than on the day they had met, and he had yet to figure out her puzzling behaviour the previous afternoon.
'Brian and I hoped this would happen long ago,' Jane said, shocking him. 'You're a very attractive man, Luca, and an exceptionally good one. You have to start thinking about your needs.'
He hadn't had any needs. Not for a very long time. The only thing he had cared about was the twins, ensuring they grew up feeling secure and loved.
'Elaine wouldn't have wanted you to be alone, Luca. You have our blessing. And you aren't betraying Elaine, or letting anyone down.' She took his hand, green eyes moist with unshed tears, her words making him choke up with emotion. 'We know how much you loved Elaine. Nothing is going to take that away.'
Luca thought about Elaine's obsessive need for a baby, of her persistence, her furtiveness and odd behaviour when she became pregnant. 'I should have done something, should have seen.'
'Elaine should never have deceived you, Luca. You know how strong-willed she was. Even as a child, when she set her mind to something, there was no reasoning with her, no diverting her from the course she had set herself on.'
'I know, but...' He broke off, shaking his head, finding it difficult to set aside the guilt---and flicker of hurt, angry betrayal---that had weighed him down for so long.
Jane's fingers tightened on his. 'Luca, it is not your fault. No one blames you. No one. It's long past time you stopped blaming yourself and moved on with your life, not only for your sake but the girls' too. They need their father to be happy. And there will come a time in their lives when, no matter how marvellous you are, they'll need a woman's understanding.'
Maybe Jane was right, but he was confused, uncertain. Polly was so different from anyone he had ever known or been attracted to before. How did he know it was real? It wasn't as if Polly's life was uncomplicated. With each day that went by, and with each new scrap of information he unearthed about her, the more mysterious she became. And she seemed to have more baggage from her past than he did. He shook his head thinking of her rushed exit from the surgery yesterday and of Rosie's words after Polly had gone.
'What is it?' Jane asked, a quizzical smile on her face.
'I was just thinking of Rosie and how frighteningly perceptive she is---and she isn't four yet.'
Jane chuckled. 'Rosie has Elaine's intelligence, sensitivity and intuition, while Toni has her mother's energy, and her love of sport and adventure.'
'And for getting into trouble,' Luca pointed out, and they enjoyed a moment of shared laughter, thinking of the scrapes Toni had landed herself in. He didn't want to imagine what might lie ahead as she grew older. As for her sister...'Rosie asked me why Polly is so sad inside. How can she see that at her age?'
'And is she right?' Jane queried.
'Yes.' That was one thing he did know. 'But I don't yet know why.'
Jane looked interested. 'Is she a local girl?'
'She is. Or was,' he amended.
'How do you mean?'
'She grew up in Penhally but left thirteen years ago,' he explained, drawing on the bits of information he had managed to glean. 'Her godmother and good friend persuaded her to take the GP job. Polly came back in July but I don't think she is finding the return to Penhally easy.'
Jane nodded. 'I suppose it depends why she left. If she has bad memories. What's her surname?'
'Carrick. At least, that's the name she's using now. It was her mother's maiden name. She died when Polly was young,' he confided, remembering the conversation he had overheard between Polly and Kate in the car.
'Carrick? Carrick...' Jane's eyes widened. 'Goodness, I wonder if it could be.'
Luca frowned. 'Could be what?'
'Do you know her father's name? Her mother's married name?'
'Reg Searle, I think,' Luca replied.
'Well!' Releasing his hand, Jane sat back in her chair and let out a rush of breath.
'Jane?'
She pressed her palms to her cheeks, a far-away look in her eyes for a moment. 'Yvonne Carrick. I used to teach her at school. I remember the gossip when Yvonne became involved with Reg Searle. We moved to St Piran because of Brian's job, and I gave up work to have Elaine, but I remember Yvonne died when her own child was very young.' She paused a moment and frowned. 'I have a hazy recollection that Penhally's formidable headmistress, Gertrude Stanbury, was concerned about the girl. That would be your Polly.'
His Polly... A riot of conflicting emotions churned inside him. What Jane had told him had been interesting, but there was little that helped him work out anything about Polly's life now. Whatever had happened in Polly's past had been sufficiently serious and important that it had had an impact on her present...and, unless he did something to stop it, it threatened her future, too. He had no idea what to do or how he could make a difference, he only knew he had to try.
All of which made a mockery of his resolution not to get involved with Polly and confirmed how far she had burrowed under his skin and into his heart in just one week. And all with no intent on her part. He knew Polly was as reluctant as he was to acknowledge the attraction between them and was fighting equally hard to stop it happening. He could tell her it was too late. The battle was over...he'd lost. And yet, instead of defeat, what he felt was a mix of trepidation, puzzlement, fear and a spine-tingling excitement.
His talk with Jane had given him a lot to think about, Luca admitted, but there was no time for more now as Brian arrived back at the small, ground-floor flat, having taken the twins to feed the fish in the pond in the centre of the communal garden belonging to the sheltered-housing complex. Brian, his thinning hair now almost white, leaned heavily on his walking stick, and he was breathing heavily when he sank into his armchair.
Luca glanced at his watch, surprised at the time. They had to get moving. After rounding up the twins and making sure they had everything, they said their goodbyes.
'Think on what I said, my love,' Jane whispered as she hugged him.
'I will. Thank you.'
Further delays ensued when Rosie discovered she had mislaid her favourite cuddly toy, and it was several moments before Pooh Bear was back in her arms.
'Come on, bambine,' Luca encouraged, hustling them out to the car. 'Or we'll be late for the beach picnic.'
'Papà, will Polly be there?' Rosie asked once they were on their way back along the coast.
The query took him by surprise. 'I don't know, topolino.'
'I hope so,' Rosie countered.
Never liking to be left out, Toni added her agreement. 'I want to see Polly, too.'
From the time they had been babies, the girls had proved to be remarkable judges of people, clear about who they liked and who they didn't, and he'd never known them to be wrong. But even he was surprised at the speed with which they had taken to Polly.
If Polly had been invited, would she go? One of the things he had learned during the week was how she generally kept to herself. The thought of seeing her brought excitement, doubt, arousal and confusion, and there was no denying that his heart rate had kicked up or that the blood was flowing hot through his veins.
A few minutes more and he was parking off road near the quiet cove Oliver had directed him to. He helped the girls change into their beach things, everything taking twice as long because they were bouncing with excitement and impatience. When they had everything, Luca changed his own things, welcoming the kiss of the September sun on his skin, then he picked up the cooler and locked the car.
There was no sign of Polly's little Renault and the sting of disappointment was acute. Of course, she might have come with some of the others, he reasoned. And the unanswered question about whether she was there or not had him quickening his pace as he led the girls down the steps carved into the rocks to the safe, sandy beach below.
'The forecast for Sunday is wonderful, so we're going to get together to relax and have fun,' Lauren had explained in the staffroom on Friday.
'You can swim or play ball,' Chloe had continued. 'Or you can read, have a nap, or just sit and talk and eat. Please come, Polly. We'll stop by on Sunday morning and pick you up.'
Although she usually went out of her way to avoid social gatherings, Polly had woken on Sunday morning to find herself anticipating the promised arrival of her new friends with eagerness. She had even braved the kitchen to make some muffins and cookies as her contribution to the picnic. Chloe and Lauren had seemed genuinely delighted, and their pleasure that she had chosen to accompany them for the day had given Polly a boost. As had the enthusiastic welcome she had received from Oliver and Gabriel---and Foxy the greyhound---when she had climbed into the car.
A couple of hours had passed since then, and Polly had started to relax, largely thanks to the way her new friends had included her and set her at ease. They had talked about all sorts of things---and she had learned with dismay about Lauren's diagnosis of retinitis pigmentosa earlier in the year which meant she had to keep her sunglasses on to protect her eyes. There had been a lot of laughter and some gentle teasing, but Polly was grateful that none of them had pressed her to talk about herself.
Polly had been content to be left with her book while the others had gone for a swim. Now she sat on a blanket spread on the soft sand in the secluded cove a short distance along the coast from Penhally's busy main beach. It was a glorious day, the sun was shining and they pretty much had the small cove to themselves. Setting her book aside, she wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees, smiling as she watched her companions kick a football around in the shallows to the eager delight of Foxy who bounded around them. Her smile turned wry as she realised that here she was, thirty years old, back in Penhally, and still sitting on the sidelines, keeping apart, just as she had in all the years growing up here.
She thought of Kate and longed to see her. The older woman had undergone her final session of radiotherapy on Friday, and Polly knew that Rob and the boys had planned something special for them to do together this weekend in celebration. Polly was delighted for Kate---both that the ordeal of her treatment was over and that she had a new man in her life after so many years alone---so she felt guilty for the twinge of disappointment that, thanks to a turn of events no one could have foreseen, there had been little opportunity since her return in July to have a real heart-to-heart with Kate. And, since their conversation on Thursday, Polly was also now impatient to hear whatever it was Kate needed to tell her about Nick Tremayne.
A prickle of envy trickled through her as she saw Oliver sweep Chloe up in his arms and kiss her passionately, before setting her back on her feet. As Chloe headed back towards her, Oliver plunged into the sea for a swim. They were such a special couple, as were Gabriel and Lauren, who continued to play with Foxy for a few more moments before Gabriel kissed Lauren with equal fervor, then ran into the sea to join Oliver.
Polly wondered what it felt like to be that loved, that secure, and seeing two couples who undoubtedly shared the real thing only served to make her realise that she had never come near it. She had hoped she had found it with Charles, but it had been an illusion, a painful mistake, and after all that had happened she felt certain she would never be able to love or trust again. With Chloe and Lauren approaching, she struggled to hide her feelings and shake off her introspection.
'I'm pooped.' Chloe laughed, briskly drying herself with a towel and wrapping a sarong around her waist and over her one-piece swimsuit before sitting on the blanket.
Pulling a T-shirt on over her bikini, Lauren knelt down, nodding her agreement. 'You definitely have the right idea, just chilling out, Polly.' Pulling out an old towel, she gave Foxy a quick rub.
'Oh, they're here!' Chloe exclaimed.
Lauren looked up from her task and adjusted her sunglasses. 'Great.'
Wondering what had caught her friends' attention, Polly looked over her shoulder and her mouth went dry. Luca! She had not known he'd been invited, too. For the moment she was too overwhelmed to think straight as her gaze locked on the sight of him wearing nothing but figure-hugging swim shorts. The black Lycra hung low on his hips, leaving his impressive torso bare, while the legs of the shorts moulded his legs to mid-thigh.
Polly's pulse started racing and she couldn't stop staring at him. Whereas both Oliver and Gabriel were gorgeous and both had lean, athletic bodies, she scarcely noticed them as they jogged up from the sea to meet the new arrival. Her gaze was riveted on Luca. He was a few inches shorter than the other two men and he was bigger built, less streamlined. But there wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on him. He was all muscle, solid and strong.
Luca had more hair on his chest than the other men, too. The flat, dark ruby-red orbs of his nipples nestled within the dark whorl of curls that spread across and between his pecs. The hair arrowed down in a dark line to his navel, continuing down over olive-toned skin to disappear beneath the lowslung waistband of his shorts. Her traitorous fingers itched to explore his body, to know the texture of his skin, the firmness of the muscles rippling beneath the smooth flesh.
The undeniable attraction and arousal Luca caused made her think of sex. And how long it had been since she had even been cuddled, let alone had felt loved---even if it had been an illusion. She pressed her palms to overheated cheeks. Her experience had been limited, Charles her only lover, but even with her hang-ups about her body, the physical side of their relationship had been nice...in the beginning.
When things had started to go wrong in other ways, so had their love-making, and when they had reached the point where Charles had no longer touched her at all, she had been relieved. She had shut that side of herself down ever since, more so for the last four years with the ending of her marriage and the loss of her baby.
She had never imagined wanting to be with another man again, to be held and kissed and touched and loved, especially as the issues with her body had increased, filling her with dread at the thought of anyone seeing her naked. But since meeting Luca, everything in her had reawakened and she felt edgy with desire and longing and unfulfilled need. There was no denying the fact that she ached with wanting him. But she couldn't have him. And not only because of her fears about her body. She wasn't a one-night-stand kind of woman, neither did she want to get involved again. Given his circumstances, she couldn't imagine that Luca did either. Far safer if she worked harder to fight against the attraction now, before she did anything foolish.
'Polly!'
Her name, called in high-pitched excitement, drew her attention away from Luca and for the first time she noticed the twins. As Rosie ducked out from behind her father and ran across the soft sand as fast as her little legs would carry her, a lump of emotion lodged in Polly's throat. She didn't want to bond with these children, but even though she had only met them once, she knew it might already be too late.
As Toni set off in hot pursuit of her sister, Rosie caught her foot on the edge of the blanket, a comical expression of surprise on her face as momentum propelled her small body towards Polly. And no matter how she told herself that she only opened her arms and caught Rosie because the little girl might have hurt herself with her ambitious flying leap, Polly knew it was a lie. Instinctively, she held the child against her, the feel of her and the scent of fruity shampoo and baby powder tugging at her heartstrings and twisting the pain inside her.
Giggling, Rosie wrapped her arms tightly around Polly's neck and planted a kiss on her cheek. Then, holding on with one arm, she looked towards her father and rapidly approaching sister with a triumphant grin on her face.
'Papà, I told you Polly would come,' she declared.
Toni, still with her bandaged hand, pushed her way in, determined to make room for herself on Polly's lap, and kissed her other cheek. 'Me, too.'
Polly struggled to choke back tears, her gaze inexorably lifting up the masculine length of Luca's body as he arrived at the blanket and set down the cooler and other things he was carrying. Then she met the watchful speculation and burn of fire in his dark eyes, and the aching knot of need and want tightened inside her. Scared at what was happening, she dropped her arms, thankful when the twins reluctantly moved away to be introduced to the others by their father.
'Rosa Jane and Antonia Elaine,' she heard, missing many of the words as she lost herself in the husky, sexy sound of Luca's voice.
'But everyone calls me Toni...'
'And me Rosie,' the girls explained in tandem.
Polly tensed as Luca knelt down on the blanket, far, far too close to her. Then her heart turned over with a mix of pain and longing as Luca sat back on his heels and gathered both girls into his arms, kissing them and tickling them until each was breathless from laughing.
Once released, the twins switched their attention to Foxy and, for a dog Lauren had told her was once people shy, the greyhound accepted the attention with remarkable fortitude.
'Why don't you all go and have another swim or play with the girls before lunch?' Polly suggested, needing a few moments to regather her composure. 'I'll set the things out and call you when it's ready.'
She was relieved when Oliver, Chloe, Gabriel and Lauren agreed without protest, taking the ball and moving down the beach with the girls and Foxy. Much to Polly's dismay, however, Luca remained behind, which was not what she had intended. Oh, help...she didn't want to be alone with him!
'Hello, Polly.'
Flustered by the throaty purr of his voice, positive he had moved even closer, she couldn't stop fidgeting---anything other than look at him or, worse, give in to the temptation to touch him. 'Hi,' she managed to reply, busying herself unpacking the picnic plates, cutlery and cups, before turning her attention to the food in the coolers.
'You don't want to swim yourself?' Luca asked, automatically helping her with the tasks.
She shook her head, her long plait bouncing against her shoulders. 'I'm not keen on the water.'
Her disobedient gaze flicked to him and she couldn't force it away again. She cursed the tinge of colour that warmed her cheeks in response to his nearness. For the first time she noticed the tattoo over his heart, above his left nipple, partially hidden beneath his chest hair, her attention lingering far too long as she deciphered the design. It was plain and simple but clearly heartfelt, and combined the names of his children in the shape of a cross and written in blue, with ANTONIA going across horizontally and ROSA going vertically, down through the central O.
'I had it done straight after they were born,' Luca told her, his voice rough with emotion. 'To keep them close to my heart and remind me they were my reason to go on living without Elaine.'
Any embarrassment she felt at being caught looking at him was washed away by the pain that ripped through her at his words. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, unable to halt the single tear that spilled between her lashes and dropped onto her cheek.
'Don't cry for me, zingarella.'
The softness of his words was matched by the gentleness of his caress as he raised one hand, the pad of his thumb catching the tear and brushing it away. It sat for a moment, beaded on his skin. Then he raised it to his lips and sucked it inside his mouth, tasting her, the gesture so tiny but so erotic that Polly forgot how to breathe.
His palm cupped her face, and a shiver ran through her at the sensation of his touch. It was impossible to drag her gaze from his. She feared she would lose herself in those deep, dark eyes---eyes that saw into her very soul. As his thumb traced the swell of her lower lip, she could feel every rapid beat of her heart. His touch was unmistakably male, making her wonder how his hands would feel on the rest of her body and sending heat coursing through her.
A sudden shout and burst of laughter snapped her out of the spell of the moment, and she dragged a shaky breath into lungs that felt starved of oxygen as she drew away from Luca. She glanced round, thankful that no one was looking in their direction.
'You have beautiful children,' she murmured, her voice unsteady, returning to her task unpacking the lunch things in an effort to mask the way her hands were shaking. 'You've done a great job with them.'
Again Luca moved to help her. 'Thank you.'
'They look so alike and yet are very different,' she added, cursing the wistful edge that laced her words as her gaze strayed to watch Rosie and Toni playing...pain for what was lost and yearning for what would never be stealing through her.
'From the first they swiftly developed distinct personalities.' Luca sat back, a smile on his face as he watched his daughters, tightening the ache inside her even further. 'Rosie is a thinker. She is quiet and very sensitive. Toni's a doer, confident, always jumping in with both feet. Rosie is frighteningly intelligent, and learns easily, while Toni is sporty, a tomboy, fearless and keen to try everything.' He gestured to the first-aid kit he had brought. 'That's nothing to do with being a doctor, that's knowing we can rarely go anywhere without Toni getting into some scrape or another.'
'You have nicknames for them...what do they mean?'
Luca chuckled, and the sound seemed to vibrate down her spine, making her tingle. 'Rosie, quiet but also very inquisitive, became topolino, or little mouse. Toni, always on the go and often leaving chaos in her wake, became trottola, meaning spinning top or, sometimes terremoto---earthquake,' he explained, the love and affection so clear in his voice squeezing her heart.
Polly smiled, touched by his love for the girls and interested in his insight about their individual characters, probably the reason he never seemed to dress them in copycat outfits. He looked horrified when she said as much.
'Never. They aren't toys or clones of each other. Each has her own taste. Occasionally they'll pick the same thing, usually in a different colour, but less often the older they get.'
'What about hobbies?' she asked, taking the muffins and cookies she had made out of her bag and adding them to the spread, automatically taking the wallet and keys Luca handed her for safekeeping and zipping them into a pocket in her canvas bag.
Luca leaned back on one elbow, half-turned towards her, and she struggled not to stare at his impressive physique---again. 'Rosie likes her soft toys, dressing up and anything to do with fairies! Toni is good with her hands and likes being on the go outside. Sometimes there's a squabble, but they get on well. And they're both mischievous. I wanted them to know their Italian heritage, so they've been bilingual from the outset. But it can cause problems,' he admitted with a heartstoppingly sexy chuckle that lodged the breath in her chest.
'How come?'
'They quickly learned they can speak Italian to each other and most people can't understand. I try to stop them doing it. And it's very embarrassing if they say something cheeky to a teacher---especially if the person does understand!' he confessed, making her laugh. 'Together, they have a lot of interests they share...a love of books, Disney films, dancing and, most especially, animals. In fact---'
He broke off, his gaze returning to the girls as they played with Foxy. 'What?' Polly prompted, watching them, too.
'They've been pestering me about a dog. I'm weakening.' He sighed and shook his head, his smile wry. 'They can wrap me round their little fingers!'
Polly sighed, too, the knot of pain fisting inside her as her gaze was drawn inexorably to the two small girls running and laughing on the sand. She was unable to watch them without thinking about her own lost daughter. Would she have been advanced for her age, outgoing and adventurous like Toni, or thoughtful and sensitive like Rosie? She jumped as Luca caught her chin and turned her to face him.
'Why does looking at my children make you so sad, zingarella?'
Polly could only stare at him in stunned disbelief, affected by the soft huskiness of his words and by his scary insight. She shook her head, panic rising inside her. She wasn't ready to talk about it---wasn't sure she ever would be. But...
Thankfully, she was saved from answering as a warning shout alerted them to a miskick that sent the football sailing through the air over their heads. Foxy came charging by, missing the picnic food but bumping into Polly, knocking her off balance and toppling her into Luca. He caught her, strong arms wrapping protectively around her, and Polly experienced several moments of suspended animation, the world around them fading away, all her awareness centred on Luca. His heady, sexy scent teased her nostrils. Her traitorous fingers lingered, assessing and savouring the textures of smooth warm skin, firm muscles and the surprisingly soft dark hair on his chest.
The overriding impression was of strength, of maleness and of intense sexual longing as the customary electricity arced between them. Unfathomable dark eyes looked into hers and she feared he would read her reaction to him and recognise her body's desire. Embarrassed, she tried to push away, but it seemed ages before Luca finally loosened his hold. He helped her upright but still didn't release her, his hands moving from her shoulders to glide down her back.
'Are you all right?'
The sultry, intimate tone of his voice played havoc with her resolve, but somehow Polly nodded. 'I'm fine. It was nothing.' Which was a monstrous lie.
She was supremely conscious of his touch, which branded her even through her clothes. Her body was pressed against his, and while she never wanted to move, she knew she had to. She was scared---of so many things. And this couldn't happen. She couldn't let it. Again she made an effort to withdraw from him, grateful when the twins came running up, closely followed by the adults, everyone talking, apologising and laughing at once, and checking she was OK.
Polly sensed Luca's frustration and heard his soft curse as she shifted to put some distance between them.
'No damage done,' Polly reassured them, her smile overbright.
As everyone sat down, eager to satisfy the hunger they had worked up for lunch, Polly could only think of a different kind of hunger...her own for Luca. A hunger she feared would continue to grow and which she could never risk assuaging.
'OH, POLLY, these lime and coconut muffins are to die for,' Chloe enthused, a smile of bliss on her face. 'How much will it cost me to bribe you to give me the recipe?'
'I'll write it out for you...free of charge!'
Luca heard Polly's soft, shy reply. Her ash-blonde hair was drawn up and secured in a knot, leaving her face and neck exposed, highlighting her exquisite bone structure and revealing the colour that bloomed on her pale cheeks in response to Chloe's compliment.
He'd noticed a lot of things about Polly during the picnic lunch. To begin with, the twins had taken most of his attention, but once they had decided what they wanted and had settled to eat their food, he had been able to switch his focus back to Polly.
That's when he'd realised what Polly was doing.
In the self-appointed role of waitress, passing round the various foods everyone had contributed and refilling the plastic mugs with fruit smoothie, lemonade or water, she was cleverly keeping everyone else happy and too busy to notice that she wasn't eating anything herself. It was subtle but obvious if you studied her. And he did. Polly picked at things...a bit of salad, a sliver of chicken or some of the delicious blue cheese which Chloe, who claimed to be addicted to it, told him came from the Trevellyans' farm shop. He'd made a mental note to buy some. But Polly, by always having something in her hand, and switching her attention between different people, masked the fact that she never actually put any food in her mouth.
Looking up, he met Oliver's gaze and saw the concern in his new friend's eyes. In the week he'd been at the surgery, Luca had discovered that Oliver was not only an exceptional doctor but very empathetic and aware of people. Now Luca shared with him a moment of silent understanding. Oliver had noticed too.
A frown knotted his brow as he thought back over the days he'd spent with her. He'd never seen her eating. She had made herself scarce at lunchtime, and on the day she had claimed to have eaten at her desk---when Nick had taken him to Smugglers for lunch---Luca had seen no evidence of it when he'd returned. The only thing she consumed at work was that insipid-looking cranberry-flavoured white tea.
Then there were her clothes. It had occurred to him the previous afternoon that Polly was hiding herself. Today was no exception. While everyone else wore bathing suits or shorts and Tshirts, Polly was wrapped up in an over-sized, albeit colourful gypsy skirt and layers of tops. The only difference was that now her feet were bare. A lump lodged in his throat. They were small, pale and delicate, and his gaze lingered as he noted that today her neatly groomed nails were painted pastel pink. Dio! He definitely had a thing about her toes.
With difficulty, Luca forced himself to return to the matter at hand and face the worrisome possibility that Polly had issues about her body and, maybe, about food, too. He'd seen from first meeting her that she was absurdly slender. Too slender? When she had fallen into him and he'd been able to hold her close for far too short a time, there had been nothing of her! More pieces of the Polly jigsaw were slotting into place but he wasn't close to seeing the whole picture, and he had ever more questions that needed answers.
This time last week, the furthest thing from his mind had been any kind of involvement with a woman. Then he'd met Polly. And now he couldn't get her out of his head, or stop his body responding every time he was close to her, or heard her voice, or breathed in her lilac scent, or thought of her. Which seemed to be all the time. Something indefinable about Polly Carrick, his little gypsy, called to everything in him and, quite without knowing it, she was reawakening parts of him that had shut down when Elaine had died. And for the first time in nearly four years, something other than his children and, to a lesser extent, his job mattered to him.
'Your girls look so cute.' Lauren's comment---as she helped herself to the rapidly dwindling stock of Polly's homemade white chocolate and raspberry cookies---caught Luca's attention. 'They had the time of their lives with Foxy. I think the three of them wore themselves out!'
Dragging his gaze away from Polly and looking at Rosie and Toni, Luca's heart swelled with love for them. They had started wilting part-way through their picnic lunch and were now curled up together, sound asleep. Foxy lay as close as possible, his head on his paws as he watched over them.
'Make the most of the lull. I know from experience they'll wake with batteries recharged and will be up and running again,' he replied with a wry smile, making his companions chuckle.
As if drawn by some invisible magnetic pull, Luca's gaze returned to Polly. Her lips were curved but her halfsmile bore evidence of the same sadness he saw in her eyes whenever she watched his daughters. He'd witnessed it several times...enough to suspect that the awkwardness she displayed around young children was nothing to do with disliking them and everything to do with the shadows of pain and longing in her eyes when she saw them.
Much to his frustration, they'd been interrupted earlier and he hadn't been able to get an answer from Polly about her reaction to the girls, but there was no doubt his question had rattled her. Had she wanted a baby and, for some reason, her husband had not? Was that why her marriage had failed?
'Did you talk to Dragan about the puppies?'
Oliver's query snapped Luca from his latest thoughts about Polly. 'Yes, and he's almost convinced me! When I foolishly promised the girls a dog once we had moved and settled in, I meant in a couple of years, not months, and I was thinking more of a rescue dog, older and trained already.' He glanced again at his sleeping daughters. 'Their grandparents' dog died six months ago and they miss him. I'm just concerned whether a puppy is right for three-year-olds, and how we'd manage,' he admitted, interested to hear his new friends' views.
'Rosie and Toni are nearly four, Luca, and they definitely have an instinct with animals. They've been gentle and sensible with Foxy,' Gabriel pointed out.
'I agree.' Chloe leaned back against Oliver's chest, smiling as her husband wrapped her in his arms, and Luca pushed away a flicker of envy at their closeness. 'And as for any worries about managing, you'll never have another chance like this one for full doggy support!'
'How do you mean?' Luca asked, taking another cookie before they all vanished.
'I popped in to see the puppies yesterday---oh, they're so cute! Melinda said that only two of the six are left without definite homes, and one of those is on reserve. So far none of the puppies are leaving Penhally!' Chloe explained, green eyes sparkling with excitement.
Chuckling, Lauren took up the story. 'Dragan and Melinda are keeping one puppy, Kate is taking one for Jem, and Gabriel and I are having one as a companion for Foxy. Having been reassured about introducing a puppy to a home with cats, Oliver and Chloe are having the other one. So if Nick's niece Charlotte goes ahead and takes the one on reserve and you have the other one, we'll all be together!'
'We're going to have a puppy crèche! And aside from helping each other in the early weeks, we also have Melinda on hand for veterinary advice, and she's organising puppy training classes for all of us when the time comes,' Chloe told him.
Lauren sighed, a wistful look on her face, her hands lightly massaging Gabriel's scalp as he lay with his head in her lap. 'Another week, two at the most, and we'll know which pup is ours. I can't wait for that!'
'Or for mid-October when we can take them home,' Chloe added.
'Oh, Luca,' Lauren murmured, adjusting her sunglasses and looking again at the girls curled up with Foxy. 'You and the twins have to have one. And you live so close to the four of us it will be no bother to get together and help.'
'Flatcoats are excellent with children.' Oliver took a sip of his drink. 'We always had animals at home when I was growing up and I think pets are really good for children. Aside from the fun and companionship, an animal teaches them to be unselfish, to care for another life and be responsible for its needs, and, inevitably, it helps them to understand loss.'
It made sense, Luca admitted. And, as Chloe had said, when might he get an opportunity again to consider a puppy with such an excellent background and with so much support on hand from friends? Luca vowed to go and see Melinda and Dragan---and the puppies---as soon as possible. Maybe Polly would go with him.
'I was never allowed any pets when I was young,' Chloe told them, and Luca caught an edge in the her voice, noting how Oliver cuddled her closer and Lauren reached out to touch her hand. Clearly there was a story there.
'Neither was I.' Polly's words were soft and shaky. 'Although my mother had a dog when I was very young.'
Luca was immediately aware that everyone was looking at Polly in surprise. In the time he'd known her, Luca knew how rare it was for Polly to volunteer anything about her private self. A hush fell as everyone waited, willing her to continue. Luca shifted closer to Polly and, out of sight of the others, rested his hand on her back, trying to give silent support.
'His name was Barney,' Polly continued after a moment, her head turned away, her gaze focused, he was sure, not on the scene around them but on something far away in her past. 'I loved him. He was my only friend. And I clung to him when my mother died. But---'
Her words snapped off and Luca sensed the group holding a collective breath. He believed Polly needed to begin trusting the people who cared about her and to release whatever was bottled up inside. Before he could prompt her, Chloe, who was sitting on her other side, did it for him.
'What happened, Polly?' she asked gently, handing over a tissue, her smile understanding.
'My father never liked Barney---he hated anything that took attention away from him or that someone might like more than him.'
Concerned only for Polly, and uncaring if any of the others noticed, Luca took her hand and linked their fingers, trying to convey his understanding and encouragement.
'Of dubious parentage, Barney was nothing much to look at, but he was loyal and loving and just the friend I needed. He never left my side at home. About a week after my mother died, I was brought home from nursery school to find that Barney had gone.' Polly looked pale and fragile and, while her voice was little more than a whisper, it was laden with remembered pain, confusion and distress. 'I cried and cried, unable to understand. My father just laughed. Then he told me he'd disposed of Barney. I didn't understand, just that the friend I needed was gone and my father had taken pleasure in the fact that I was upset and had lost something important to me. I never found out if Barney had been put to sleep or given away to a new home.'
As a shocked stillness fell over the group, Luca's fingers instinctively tightened on Polly's and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, aching for the child she had been. Her father's deliberate cruelty was inexcusable enough, but it was his apparent enjoyment of it that appalled Luca and made him as angry as hell. As he was struggling with his increasing awareness of her and the growing desire to hold and comfort her, to protect her, he had another disturbing realisation. The sickening possibility that this could be but one example of her father's cruelty. She had been left alone with the man from the age of four. Just what had Polly's childhood really been like?
He didn't have long to ponder on the question of Polly's past as the conversation moved on to the experiences others had had with animals, and then Lauren turned back to him, a mischievous glint in her grey eyes.
'You wait, Luca. Two little girls who love animals...it'll be ponies next!' she teased him.
'They're way ahead of you, Lauren,' he countered with a smile. 'The pleas for riding lessons have already started.'
He noted Lauren's gaze flick to Polly. 'Didn't you ride at one time, Polly? I seem to remember you spent a lot of time at the Somers' stables.'
'Um, yes.' Still holding Polly's hand, Luca not only felt the tightening of her fingers around his but also sensed the growing tension within her, and his thumb strayed to the inside of her wrist, picking up the quickening beat of her pulse. 'I went up there sometimes and helped out with chores in exchange for a ride.'
She'd told them the bare facts but Luca was convinced by her tone and the responses he had detected from her that the stables had been important to her. 'Have you ridden since, Polly?' he asked, seeing myriad emotions reflected in her eyes as she turned her head and met his gaze.
'On and off.' She bit her lip, a tinge of pink staining her cheeks in evidence of some emotional discomfort. 'But not in the last few years.'
'You'll have to visit the stables when you have time, Polly. I'm sure Georgie would love to see you,' Lauren suggested, smiling down at Gabriel.
'Georgie's still there?'
Luca heard surprise, curiosity, pleasure and a touch of anxiety in Polly's reply. Again her fingers clung to his, although he wasn't sure if she was even aware of it as she sat with a far-away look on her face.
'Very much so! Georgie's in charge there now her parents have retired,' Lauren informed her in response to Polly's question.
'Georgie got married eighteen months ago. Her husband is a Romany,' Chloe added, with obvious affection. 'He's an incredible horseman and really lovely.'
'Polly, why don't you take Luca and the girls out to the stables and show them around? Georgie is the perfect person to give the twins lessons,' Lauren suggested, and Luca wanted to hug her for giving him an excuse to spend more time with Polly.
The woman in question was clearly startled by the suggestion if her 'Oh!' was any guide.
'I'd like that very much, Polly.' Luca met her blue gaze and pressed home his advantage. 'And the girls would be so thrilled.'
'Perhaps we can arrange something, then,' she murmured.
Feeling a twinge of guilt for tricking her into the situation, Luca brushed a soothing caress across her wrist over the point where her pulse beat a rapid tattoo. 'Thank you, zingarella.'
It was wonderful to just be. Kate inhaled a deep breath of clean air, content to sit enjoying the late September sunshine and the chrysanthemums, dahlias and other flowers that continued to give a splash of bright colour as summer slid languorously towards autumn. Since the end of her course of radiotherapy last Friday, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and, although still tired and uncharacteristically emotional, she felt relieved, more relaxed and, above all, free.
Kate patted the space beside her on the rustic bench in the rear garden of her cottage and beckoned Polly to join her. She had indulged in some uncharacteristic but gentle meddling since July, which she excused because she wanted Polly to be happy. Focused on battling breast cancer and unable to give Polly the support she deserved, Kate had felt justified in asking Oliver, Chloe, Gabriel and Lauren to watch over Polly, thankful when the friendships had grown naturally. Luca's recent arrival was an unexpected bonus and one Kate had shamelessly exploited when she had noticed the attraction between Polly and the new Italian doctor.
'How was the beach picnic on Sunday?' she asked, knowing the subjects of the puppies and the riding stables had been raised.
'It was good---everyone seemed to have fun.'
Kate glanced at Polly's finely etched profile. 'Including you?'
'Yes. I didn't think I would, but I did. I even made some muffins and cookies as my contribution to the food,' she added, her smile tinged with sadness. 'They're the only two recipes of my mother's I was able to salvage.'
Kate suppressed a shiver as she thought of all Polly had been through after Yvonne had died, leaving her alone from the age of four with Reg Searle. The man didn't deserve to be called Polly's father. It made Kate furiously angry but also weighed down with guilt because, despite all her efforts, she hadn't been able to do anything to get Polly away from the beastly man. Pushing the disturbing thoughts away, she concentrated on Polly and the here and now.
'And did you eat anything?' she asked softly, already knowing the answer.
Betraying colour warmed Polly's cheeks. 'I couldn't, Kate. But no one noticed.'
Kate didn't have the heart to tell her that both Luca and Oliver had been very aware that Polly had issues with food. A frown creased Kate's brow as she remembered when her beloved goddaughter had been eleven and had shown the first signs of anorexia, the disorder she would struggle with throughout her early teens. Already tiny for her age, she had shrunk before Kate's eyes. Gertrude Stanbury, then headmistress at Penhally High, had been concerned, too. They had tried hard to help but with Reg denying them access to Polly, and generally being obstructive, it hadn't been easy.
Polly's interest in ponies had done much to help her back then and Kate hoped revisiting the riding stables would enable Polly to deal with some of the issues from the past. Especially if Luca was with her in support. That the twins wanted riding lessons was a stroke of good fortune and provided another opportunity for Polly and Luca to be together. But that was for the future. For now her thoughts returned to the past.
By the time Polly had left Penhally, determined to escape Reg's control and to go to medical school, she had been physically well again. There had been a blip, a risk of her slipping back into the grips of anorexia again, when things had gone wrong in her marriage and with the events surrounding her losing her baby. Again she had pulled through and, while always svelte, she was healthy. Or so Kate had thought.
'Is there a problem here, Polly?' she asked now, voicing her concern, wishing once again that things had been different and she had been able to give Polly more time and support since her arrival.
'No.' Sapphire-blue eyes looked at her and Kate saw the truth in them. 'I was at risk of a relapse four years ago, but the counselling I had after losing the baby also helped get the anorexia back under control before it took hold again. Things have been much better, except...'
Kate slipped an arm around Polly's shoulders. 'Except?'
'I know it's stupid, but I still find it a struggle to eat in front of other people.'
'You eat in front of me,' Kate reminded her.
Polly's smile was sad. 'You know me. You've seen me at my worst and been there for me. Even now, all these years on, it's hard to ignore the voice in my head that tells me people are watching what I eat and judging me---and that I don't deserve to enjoy anything or to have nice things.'
'Oh, Polly,' Tears stung Kate's eyes as she hugged this special young woman.
'The rational part of me knows I should have overcome these feelings of inadequacy years ago, but they're so deeply ingrained.' She paused and bit her lip. 'In my head I'll always be Plain Polly from Penhally.'
'No!' Kate fought the fury that rose inside her at the damage Reg had done to his daughter with his verbal cruelty. 'Listen to me, my love. You are a beautiful, smart, funny, caring and wonderful woman---that is who people see.'
Polly shook her head and wiped a hand across her eyes, tears beading on her lashes. 'I hate my body. Sitting on the beach last Sunday, I felt so dowdy and unfeminine next to Chloe and Lauren, like a skinny runt. Luca was there...with his children---' She broke off and turned her head, allowing Kate to see the conflicting emotions warring in her eyes.
'Polly...'
'It hurts, Kate. I see girls the same age as my daughter would have been now and I can't help but wonder what she would have been like.' Kate felt her own heart constrict in response to Polly's pain. 'And as for Luca---'
'Before you start running yourself down again, young lady,' Kate interrupted, 'the charge of attraction zinging back and forth between you and Luca was obvious. And he looked more than interested in you!'
Polly shook her head, clearly agitated. 'Oh, Kate, I'm so confused. Any woman with half a breath left in her body would find him attractive. And his children are so beautiful. I've tried to keep myself at a distance from them all, but those girls...they just slipped right through my defences. And so did their father. But I'm scared, Kate,' she confided.
'I know, my love.'
Kate rested a comforting hand on the younger woman's back, her heart going out to her. Polly had been through so much, both as a child and with the awful end to her marriage---about which there was much Kate was sure she didn't know, believing Polly had kept the worst from her. She wanted Polly to move on, to be loved as she deserved, and from what Kate had seen and heard of Luca, she was hopeful he could be the right man to provide all Polly needed...including his daughters.
'I've resigned myself to never having children. And I swore I'd never get involved with anyone again,' Polly continued. 'I can't handle any more heartache, or finding myself back in a controlling situation again. I've made so many mistakes.'
'You are not to blame for anything, Polly,' Kate insisted firmly. 'Nothing that happened when you were growing up, or in your marriage, was your fault. Nothing. Please, my love, don't let Reg, or Charles, continue to influence your life.'
'How do you mean?' Polly asked with a puzzled frown.
'Coming back to Penhally was always going to be hard, and I'm so proud of you for doing it, not to mention overjoyed at having you close to me again,' she told her, briefly resting a hand against Polly's pale face. 'There are ghosts you need to lay to rest so that you can draw a line under the past and let it go.' Kate turned more to face Polly, needing to get through to her. 'If you shut yourself away from life, and from love, then Reg and Charles are still pulling the strings and controlling you. Don't let them win. Set yourself free. It's obvious that you and Luca have a connection. Give yourself a chance. Give Luca a chance. He could be the best thing that's ever happened to you.'
Polly drew in a ragged breath. 'I don't know.'
'It's understandable that you're scared. There's no need to rush into anything. A step at a time. Take Luca and the girls to the riding stables, spend time together. See what happens. And there are the puppies. You've been to see them, yes?' Kate asked, seeing the smile ease the worry from Polly's face.
'We went yesterday. They're so cute!' She laughed, wiping away a lingering tear. 'Luca's not telling the girls, he's going to surprise them when they go to pick the puppy up to take him home.'
Delighted to see Polly smiling again, Kate laughed. 'I know what you mean. Jem has wanted a puppy for ages. He's coped so well all summer while I was ill, and I feel he's earned it and is responsible enough to take care of an animal.' Kate shook her head, pushing down her own emotions as she thought not just how wonderful her son had been but of what she still had to tell Polly about the real identity of Jem's father. 'I went with Rob and the boys to see the puppies and now I'm as excited as Jem! He's chosen his puppy, he even has a name...Bruno. And he and Matthew are busy getting everything ready from Melinda's list.'
Kate cherished this time with Polly but, aware the boys would soon be home from school, she knew she had to face things and confess her secret to Polly while they were still alone. A shiver went through her. How could she explain? She had betrayed James on the night he had died. With Nick. A ragged breath escaped her.
'Kate, what's wrong?' Polly asked, her dark blue eyes clouding with concern.
'I need to tell you something.' Her voice wobbled and a smile was impossible. 'Oh, God, this is so hard.'
She saw Polly's already pale face turn ashen. 'The cancer...it hasn't come back?' she whispered, reaching for Kate's hand and clinging to it.
'No! Oh, no, my love, not that.' For one terrible moment, Kate almost felt that might be easier to deal with. What a mess she had made. Tears squeezed between her lashes and she viewed Polly through a film of moisture. 'I hope you won't hate me when you find out what I've done.'
Something was wrong.
As the ambulance doors closed and Luca stepped back onto the pavement, his attention switched from his patient to Polly. She'd been quieter than normal since the beach picnic, but otherwise fine. They had both enjoyed the hour they had spent on Wednesday visiting Dragan and Melinda and seeing the puppies, and yesterday Polly had spent her afternoon off with Kate. Today, Friday, he had seen her briefly in the staffroom first thing and, while she'd seemed distracted and edgy, there had been nothing to unduly concern him. Given that his own mind had been grappling with the fact that this was the last day he would spend working so closely with Polly, it was possible that he'd not been as observant as usual.
They had joined up during the afternoon to cover the list of home visits---the final ones they would share together as, from next week, he would be assigned a list of his own. Polly had definitely been acting strangely, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on anything specific. However, they had just seen their last patient and were about to head back to the surgery to sign off and go home when an emergency call had come in, diverting them to a woman with chest pain who needed immediate attention.
By the time they'd arrived at the house in The Towans---a hillside road beneath Penhally Heights, the new housing estate that was nearing completion, and a part of the village he'd not been to before---Polly had turned deathly pale. She'd been restless and unfocused, and had looked like someone on the ragged edge of control. One wrong move and he'd feared she would fall. He intended being there to catch her.
Sheer professionalism had allowed him to temporarily switch off his concerns about Polly while he had taken charge of the situation inside the rundown house and attended to the sixty-five-year-old lady who had, undoubtedly, had a heart attack. He had done all he could to keep her stable and comfortable and, although he had wanted nothing more than to find out what was wrong with Polly, he hadn't been able to abandon his patient or risk her taking a turn for the worse before the paramedics arrived.
Now, as the ambulance carrying Mrs Gunn to St Piran pulled away from the kerb, her distressed daughter and sonin-law following to the hospital by car, Luca was finally free to focus on Polly. She was already occupying the passenger seat, he discovered as he stowed his bag in the back, every atom of her being crying out her tension and inner turmoil.
'Are you OK?' Sliding behind the steeringwheel, he closed the door, cursing himself for the stupid question. She was anything but OK.
'I'm fine.'
Her smile was overbright, while her eyes, which had been strangely blank when they had been in the house a short while ago, now carried a kind of wildness that made her look like a cornered animal. One knee was jinking up and down as her foot tapped repeatedly on the floor, and her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. As he drove back down The Towans, which joined Mevagissey Road not far from the church, he glanced at Polly again, finding her staring straight ahead.
'Would you mind dropping me off in Bridge Street?' she asked, her voice brittle.
Frowning, Luca nodded. 'Sure.'
A few moments later he was pulling into a parking space outside Polly's rented flat. Before he had brought the car to a halt, she was fumbling with the seat belt then the doorhandle, her hands shaking.
'Polly---'
'Sorry to rush. Something I need to do. Thanks, Luca. See you tomorrow. At the clinic.'
Short, punchy sentences, her voice raw, her breathing too rapid and uncontrolled. Then she was out of the car, pulling her bag awkwardly behind her. Switching off the engine, Luca watched as Polly hurried up the outside stairs that led to the flat's front door. She stumbled a time or two, struggled with the lock, then pushed her way inside, leaving the door wide open. Shaking his head, Luca phoned the surgery, reporting the status of the patient to Sue, the head receptionist, before having a quick word with Oliver to inform of the situation.
'Go,' his friend told him without delay. 'I'll take care of anything here.'
'Thank you, mio amico.'
Free to act, Luca set off in pursuit of Polly. If she thought for one second that he was going to drive away and leave her, she was very much mistaken.
At the top of the wrought-iron stairs, he moved Polly's bag further inside the flat, closed the door and locked it. Then he followed the sounds of panicked breathing and harsh crying, desperately needing to ease her pain and discover its cause. He found her in the bathroom, kneeling on the floor, one hand gripping the basin. His throat tight with emotion, Luca dropped to his knees behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She felt ridiculously fragile and tiny, and he was scared of hugging her too tightly. After a momentary struggle, the fight went out of her, allowing him to hold her close as he absorbed each shudder of her body, every agonised sob tearing holes in his heart.
'Shh. Easy, mio amore. You're safe. I'm here, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you.' Hoping to stop her hyperventilating, he whispered soothing words against her ear, one hand moving to stroke the silken strands of hair that fell in an ash-blonde cloud around her shoulders. 'Breathe with me. Slowly, zingarella. One at a time. That's it. And again.'
Gradually, Polly's breathing began to quieten and her tears to slow. As she rested limply against him, he reached around her with one hand and moistened the flannel on the side of the basin with cool water. Shifting position, he rose to his feet, scooping Polly up in his arms and carrying her to the small living room. She was as light as a feather, Luca fretted. He sat on the sofa, cradling her on his lap, brushing back her hair so he could gently bathe her face with the flannel.
A ragged sigh escaped her and she let her head rest on his shoulder. Luca closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the subtle lilac scent of her, relishing the opportunity to hold her close even while hating the reason that had brought it about. Questions fired through his mind but remained unasked...for now.
'I'm sorry,' Polly whispered, the warmth of her breath a soft caress against his neck, her voice raw and rough.
'There is nothing to apologise for.'
Luca eased her up, his heart stuttering as he looked into bruised blue eyes filled with pain, confusion and a definite hint of embarrassment. He wanted to do anything to take those away and to see her happy again. Cupping her face, savouring the downy softness of her skin and tracing the line of her neat, straight nose, the curve of her chin and the shape of her mouth with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned in and pressed kisses to her forehead, the tip of her nose, and an all-too-brief and chaste one to her lips, feeling the shiver of response ripple through her.
'Luca...' She broke off and cleared her throat.
'Would you like some water?'
When she nodded, he eased her off his lap and onto the sofa. He missed the contact, but he'd had to stop before he'd succumbed to temptation. When he kissed her properly, he wanted them both to be consciously aware and involved, not using it as an anaesthetic to mask other emotional events.
In the kitchen, he ran the cold tap and, searching for a glass, discovered the sorry state of her cupboards. A peep in the fridge confirmed that aside from some tired fruit and the remains of the ingredients left over from her baking for the picnic, she had virtually no food in the place. His mind made up, he carried the glass back and handed it to her, waiting while she drank.
'Can you stand?' he asked, supporting her as she rose unsteadily to her feet, not giving her time to argue. 'I'll help you pack what you need.'
She looked adorably befuddled as she stared at him. 'What I'll need for what?'
'You're coming home with me.' Sapphire-blue eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Knowing he didn't have much time, that he had to act before she regained her equilibrium, he stated his case. 'I'm not leaving you alone like this, Polly. Apart from anything else, you have nothing here to eat.'
'I'd planned a take-away after work and shopping at the farmers' market in the morning before the clinic,' she riposted, a flicker of her usual spirit returning.
He believed her---although he suspected she had an issue with food---but he wasn't backing down. 'Either you walk or I carry you. The choice is yours, zingarella.'
A FEW hours later Polly still felt shaky. And in shock. Not only because of the emotional turmoil of the last twenty-four hours that had brought her to breaking point but because of how wonderful Luca had been and the way she---who, thanks to Reg and her ex-husband, hated relinquishing control to anyone---had allowed him to take over without so much as a token protest.
Maybe somewhere deep in her subconscious she had known all the time that Luca would come after her. When the storm had hit, cutting her free from her moorings and plunging her into the very depths, it had been Luca who had rescued her, Luca who had held her safe in his arms, Luca who had refused to abandon her.
After leaving the Bridge Street flat, they had collected the twins from Carol. Polly's heart had nearly broken all over again at the way the two little girls had shown such caring concern when their father had explained her presence and told them she wasn't feeling well.
Luca's house was a mile further along the road from where Oliver and Chloe lived in Gatehouse Cottage and Gabriel and Lauren lived in the manor house. In the past they had all belonged to a big estate which had long since been broken up. Set back from the quiet country road and surrounded by woods and farmland, Polly remembered how rundown Keeper's Cottage had been the last time she'd seen it. Now, the two-storey whitewashed cottage with its slate roof and two squat chimneys had been lovingly renovated. Scarily, she had felt immediately at home.
While Rosie and Toni had watched a DVD and then eaten the supper their father had cooked, Polly had gratefully accepted Luca's suggestion and had indulged in a long, leisurely soak in a hot, fragrant bath. She had emerged, dressed in unflattering but cosy pyjamas, in time to say goodnight to the girls who claimed a hug and a kiss.
'Your phone rang,' Luca told her, gesturing to her mobile that lay on the kitchen table where she had left it. 'I saw Kate's name come up on the display and thought she might worry if you didn't answer. I just said that you were here and would phone back when you were free. I hope that's OK.'
'Thanks, Luca.' The small gesture was kind and thoughtful to both Kate and herself...but a flush had warmed her cheeks as she wondered what Kate thought and if she was adding two plus two and making ten.
'There's plenty of Bolognese, Polly, and we have some blackcurrant cheesecake in the fridge,' Luca had added, ushering his charges towards the stairs. 'Help yourself to them, or anything else you want, while I get these two bathed and then to bed.' He paused and met her gaze. 'Then we'll talk.'
So thankful was she for the opportunity to eat alone---especially with the irresistible temptation of dessert---that Polly gave Kate a quick call and was halfway through her helping of the delicious spaghetti dish Luca had made before his final words sank in and brought her down to earth with a bump. It was unsurprising that he had questions...and wanted answers. But how much should she tell him? There were things even Kate didn't know, Polly acknowledged, especially about Charles. Things she hoped never to reveal. So why was there a desire---almost a compulsion---to tell Luca?
Although she had been fighting hard since the first moment she had set eyes on him, every day spent with Luca had further weakened her resolve. She had known him barely two weeks and already it mattered far too much what he thought of her. How would he react if he knew the truth? The mistakes she had made and the things she had done---as a teenager and, later, in her marriage---would no doubt shock and appall him. The thought of him disgusted and disappointed in her was too horrible to contemplate.
Restless, Polly cleared the table and washed up, but her brain continued on the same track. What was it about Luca that caused her to act so out of character? The strength of the connection between them and the potency of her attraction to him were beyond her experience---and she found it impossible to believe that such a sexy and supremely masculine man like Luca could ever be interested in a someone like her...Plain Polly from Penhally.
Her troubled thoughts fragmented when she heard Luca's footsteps descending the stairs, and her tension increased. She was running out of time...and diversions.
'Hi,' he greeted her, the husky timbre of his voice sending tingles down her spine. 'Everything all right?'
Polly nodded. It was the only response she could manage as she had forgotten how to breathe when Luca walked into the kitchen and bestowed on her one of the special smiles that turned her bones to jelly. He'd changed out of the suit he had worn to work. Now jeans encased long, athletically muscled legs, the denim so worn and faded that it clung lovingly to him like a second skin. And his feet were bare. For some reason that was shockingly intimate and arousing.
A black cashmere sweater shaped his impressive torso, the hem riding up to reveal a tantalising glimpse of olive-toned flesh when he stretched his arms above his head and yawned. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing strong, hair-brushed forearms...arms that had held her with such care and tenderness.
'The Bolognese was lovely.'
'You had some?' His genuine pleasure and the warm intimacy of his smile made her tingle all over. 'I'm glad. Is there anything else I can get you?'
'No, thanks. I hope you don't mind, but...' Polly paused, hating it that she was still so afflicted by the conditioning of her childhood.
As Luca gave her his full attention and slowly closed the gap between them, Polly's heart fluttered. 'Mind what, zingarella?'
'I, um...' Again her words trailed off and she fought the inbuilt programming that encouraged her to deny what she most enjoyed. 'I did take some cheesecake.'
'Of course I don't mind. I told you to help yourself to anything you wanted.' Her skin tingled and she sucked in a shaky breath as his hands cupped her face. 'Why do you feel it is wrong if you enjoy something?'
Polly shook her head. The question hit right at the heart of one of the main issues she was trying so hard to understand and reconcile. One of those ghosts Kate said she had to face if she was ever to move on. She looked into dark, dark eyes, warmth stealing across her cheeks as he studied her intently. His perception and instinctive reading of her were scary. She was aware the instant his expression changed. The blood turned thick and hot in her veins as Luca grazed one thumb across the sensitive skin at the corner of her mouth.
'You have some blackcurrant here.'
'O-oh...'
The pad of his thumb pressed against her mouth, silencing her mumbled reply. Her lips parted instinctively to the gentle pressure and his voice dropped to a throaty purr as he issued his instruction. 'Lick.'
Polly told herself to resist the temptation to obey, but her body had a will of its own. Her disobedient tongue peeped out, shy at first and then bolder as his thumb slipped between her lips to meet it and the tangy masculine taste of him exploded in her mouth. Luca slowly moved his moistened thumb and wiped at the fruit stain he had found. Without breaking eye contact he raised the thumb to his own mouth, his eyes half closing as he sucked on it, as if savouring her.
It was a simple gesture but so incredibly erotic that an involuntary whimper escaped as Polly watched him. Every part of her was on fire, and an aching knot of need tightened deep inside her, driving her crazy. One tiny taste of his skin had left her craving more. His touch, his closeness, his subtle earthy aroma...everything about him robbed her of common sense.
'Luca---'
Polly heard the hitch in her voice. Everything was so jumbled up inside her, her emotions raw and near the surface, especially after the last twenty-four hours, and having Luca witness her loss of control. And now, as if she hadn't enough to resolve, her feelings for Luca were confusing her.
Before she'd had a chance to regain her equilibrium, Luca held out a hand, waiting patiently for her acquiescence. While part of her mind questioned the way she had so meekly allowed him to take charge, she found herself sliding her hand into his, feeling at once enveloped by his strength. Switching out the kitchen light, Luca led her to the cosy living room which had a surprisingly high beamed ceiling, pastel-painted walls and a Cornish bluestone floor covered with rugs. A welcoming fire burned in the stone and slate fireplace. Luca added a couple more logs, dimmed the lights and then, before she could draw breath or raise a protest, Polly found herself lifted off her feet and cradled in his arms once more.
Choosing a comfortable armchair, he sat down with her on his lap. One arm supported her back, the palm of his hand cupped possessively over her hip, while his other arm draped across her legs, his hand resting on her leg, just above her knee. She was acutely aware of every point of contact---acutely aware of him. For a few moments the only sounds penetrating the silence were the crackling of the fire. Tense and uncertain, Polly stared into the flickering flames.
'I hope you know that neither Kate nor I would betray any confidences,' Luca said, reclaiming her attention, the sincerity in his voice undeniable.
'I know.' And she did. Even if she was confused about everything else. 'What did she say when she rang earlier?'
'That the two of you had an emotional time together yesterday.' The hand at her knee stroked up and down her thigh, soothing yet arousing. 'Does that have anything to do with what happened this afternoon?'
Polly tried to refocus her scattered thoughts. 'Indirectly.' What she couldn't tell him about was the big secret Kate had confided to her.
She was still in shock after those revelations. And exhausted from the tears both she and Kate had shed as they had hugged each other. First had come the stunning confession that Nick Tremayne was Jem's real father, followed by the circumstances that had brought it about on the fateful night of the big storm eleven years ago. How had Kate coped, carrying that burden for so long? Yet she had raised Jem alone, and lived with the grief and guilt. How Polly wished she had known and could have done something to help all those years. And how could Kate have thought for one moment that she, Polly, would judge her or hate her? Never! More tears had flowed.
Kate had explained the awful circumstances that had led to Nick learning the truth about his son fifteen months ago---and how badly he had behaved to Kate and Jem since. Polly still felt emotionally raw and shocked, but she couldn't share any of that with Luca because she had promised to keep Kate's confidence. Only a handful of people besides Kate and Nick knew the truth...and now she did too.
On top of learning Kate's secret, there had been the talk of the beach picnic, Polly's eating issues and her reaction to Luca and his daughters. With mention of her own past, her return to Penhally and the ghosts she still had to face, it had been an emotional rollercoaster---and that had been without laying open the wreckage of her marriage or touching on the no-go area of her lost daughter. In view of all that, it was hardly surprising that last call to The Towans had been a shock too far.
'Talk to me, zingarella.' Luca's softly voiced words brought her crashing back to reality. 'You'd been on edge all day, but it was when that last call came in that you zoned out on me. I suspect sheer force of will made you hang on until we reached the flat. If it was nothing to do with your visit to Kate yesterday, what was it?'
How much could she tell Luca? It was scary to even consider opening herself up to inevitable pain reliving old memories would cause, and to making herself so vulnerable to another person. But maybe Kate was right---however difficult, maybe it was time to face some of her demons. Perversely, Luca was both the first and last person in whom she wanted to confide. The first because even in such a short time she had come to trust him, and although she had tried to keep herself apart, the deep connection between them was impossible to deny. And the last because exposing dark secrets and opening herself ran the risk of him thinking less of her.
Releasing a shaky breath, she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her face so close to his neck she could breath in his musky male scent and feel the warmth of his smooth, olive-toned skin.
'I don't know where to start,' she finally whispered, resolved to divulge at least some of her past. 'Or what you'll think.'
Polly's softly spoken words brought a lump to Luca's throat.
'Do you trust me?' he asked, relieved that her nod of assent came with no hesitation. It humbled him. 'Thank you.'
Polly raised her head and looked at him, puzzlement evident. 'What for?'
'I don't think you trust easily, or often, so I'm honoured...' He lifted his hand from her thigh, his fingers stroking the softness of one pale cheek. 'I won't let you down.'
'You'll probably wish you'd never met me.'
Her attempt at light-heartedness fell flat, her words revealing a genuine fear, one he was determined to set to rest. 'Look at me, zingarella.' Slowly, reluctantly, her lashes opened to reveal bruised blue eyes. Luca cupped her chin, holding her gaze, praying she would recognise his sincerity. 'I care about you, I respect you, and I admire you. You can talk to me about anything, at any time, and nothing you say will change how I feel. Nothing. OK?' he finished, feeling emotional himself as Polly nodded again and he saw the unshed tears she was battling to contain.
Luca breathed a sigh of relief at the small gesture of Polly's trust in him. Everything he had learned about her these past two weeks had shown him it was not something she granted lightly. It was a small breakthrough, and he welcomed it, but knew it was only one step on what might be a long journey.
Thank God for Kate. He thought back to the moment earlier in the evening when he had answered Polly's mobile phone. He had explained what had happened without giving more away than necessary, relieved when Kate had given him her wholehearted support.
Without breaking any confidences, the older woman had managed to impart some useful tips. One of which had been her advice not to make an issue of food, and to leave the room if he wanted Polly to eat anything. It had sounded strange, but he had followed Kate's guidance, and it had worked. Just to make sure, he had peeped round the kitchen door to see her tucking into a plate of spaghetti Bolognese with relish. He had been relieved she was eating, grateful to Kate for the guidance and even more intrigued about her relationship with food.
'Can you tell me now?' he asked, eager for her to begin talking. 'What happened today? What was it about that last call that brought things to a head?'
Luca felt a shudder run through Polly's slight frame. 'I---um...The house...' Again she broke off, one hand fluttering nervously. He caught it, linking their fingers, trying to convey his support.
'The house,' he encouraged.
'Yes.' Her eyes closed briefly and when they opened again, they were so full of pain that the breath locked in his chest. 'It was the house I lived in for the first seventeen and a half years of my life. I'd not been there since I left Penhally and being called out there was so unexpected. Having to walk through that front door again brought everything crashing down around me. It was even more of a shock because although there was a long delay in selling it after Reg died four years ago, I assumed the new owner would have improved and redecorated it by now. That it wouldn't mean anything to me. Seeing it, cleaner but otherwise much as it was when I lived there, really hit me and threw me back to the horror of that time.'
As an involuntary shudder rippled through Polly, her fingers tightened painfully on his, but Luca didn't care. Any short-lived discomfort was as nothing compared to that which Polly had so clearly endured. No wonder she had reacted so strongly, being confronted with her past that way. He had so many questions but he forced himself to silence, waiting for Polly to take this at her own pace, feeling the tension in her fragile frame.
'Kate told me that Reg Searle was a handsome man when he was young, a charmer, a master of manipulation and used to getting whatever he wanted,' she began, her voice shaky and uncertain. 'And he wanted my mother. She was just out of school, quiet and shy, clever and beautiful, and she fell for Reg, five years older, in an instant. She became pregnant with me very quickly, married Reg and gave up every dream she ever had for herself and her career as a teacher.'
'Scusami...I am sorry,' he murmured, raising their joined hands and brushing his lips over the inside of her wrist, feeling the steady, over-fast beat of her pulse.
Polly bit her lip, her eyes closing momentarily before she opened them again. 'Reg very quickly became bitter and resentful.' She turned her head to stare at the fire.
Luca followed her gaze, wondering what she saw in the flickering flames. He noticed how she never referred to the man as her father. A tight knot formed inside him---anxiety at all the things he had yet to learn about the man and his effect on Polly's development.
'Reg expected everything to be handed to him on a plate, blaming his failings on everyone else, chasing one hopeless get-rich-quick scheme after another and hating to see others succeed. That other people worked hard for what they had didn't seem to register with him,' she continued after a moment, shaking her head. 'He needed to control everything and everyone, most especially my mother, blaming her for his downfall, for holding him back. More and more he turned to drink and to gambling. He wasn't physically violent, but he was verbally and emotionally cruel. Quite early on he lost everything, including his looks and his charm, and he became an embittered, lazy, unpleasant man. And when my mother died, he turned all that frustration and resentment on me.'
'Polly...' Her name whispered out on an agonised breath as a painful image formed in Luca's mind of a fragile child---hardly older than his own girls were now---left in the charge of a bullying man who had no right to call himself a father.
'The first sign of what was to come was when he took Barney away.' Her explanation rushed on, as if she would never start again if she stopped. 'At four, I didn't understand. All I recognised was his perverse pleasure in making other people miserable. Me especially. I soon learned that anything I enjoyed or took pleasure in was taken away or spoiled or forbidden. Over the years, any academic or other achievement was punished, because having someone, especially a child, do well or be successful, served only to highlight his own failures.'
Luca turned his head, nuzzling the graceful curve on her neck, breathing in her scent, wishing he could have been there to make a difference to Polly's life. 'What happened?' Somehow Luca forced the words out, not at all sure he could bear to learn more of Polly's unhappy background, but knowing he needed to, for her sake as much as his own. He couldn't change her past---but he hoped to find a way to make her future a happy one.
'With Reg it was verbal abuse and control. When it goes on for so long and is so insidious, it wears you down and you believe it. He belittled me constantly, about everything, from being stupid to the way I looked...' As she paused, Luca worried what slight she was remembering. 'It was all about him having control over me. I don't like to admit it, but I learned to be sneaky and to lie, to deceive him. If I hid the things I liked most, like books and animals and learning, they weren't taken away from me. And if I pretended to like the things I really hated, I could avoid them.'
'Self-preservation. You were one smart cookie even then,' he praised, rewarded when she turned her head and met his gaze, a tiny smile curving her mouth. A mouth he could not help but drop a swift kiss upon.
A hint of pink washed her cheeks and she ducked her head, relaxing more in his arms, her fingers still linked with his. 'There were constant putdowns about how I looked and acted and behaved. I never had friends. Or things---money was so tight and whatever he had went on his drink and gambling. The house was filthy and falling into disrepair, much to the annoyance of the neighbours. I think I knew, even quite young, that education was my way out. If only I could hang on until I left school.' A humorous laugh escaped. 'I must have been the only child with a parent who was angry if I got good grades and a favourable report. That's where Kate and my headmistress, Ms Stanbury, really triumphed,' she added, a genuine smile acting like a sudden sunny break in the clouds.
'What did they do?' Luca asked, intrigued.
'I confided in them about the reports and grades, and from then on, until I finished school, Ms Stanbury kept my real reports locked away in the safe for me to take when I left, and made sure that a false report, one with poor grades and worrying about my lack of ambition and success, was sent to Reg.'
Luca wanted to hug Ms Stanbury for the stroke of ingenuity---one which could have landed her in trouble had she been found out. 'Did it work?'
'Like a charm. He would open the report and---' She broke off, a shiver running through her, and Luca tightened his hold.
'And?' he prompted as she settled again.
She ran her free hand over her face as if trying to scrub away an image or a memory. 'I can see the sly, mocking smile now as he told me how thick and stupid I was, that I'd never amount to anything, just like my mother. There were times I longed to tell him the joke was on him, but I never did. Somehow I always managed to hold onto the bigger picture...counting down the days until I could get away.'
'How did you survive it, zingarella?' he asked, haunted by the thought of what she had been through.
'By turning into a person I didn't like...a bad person.'
Luca shook his head. 'You are not a bad person,' he insisted, stroking her hair as she turned her face into his shoulder.
'I hated him,' she admitted, her voice rising. 'For years all I had inside me was hate and anger. I wished he was dead and not my mother. Everyone loathed him, and me by association. He never lost an opportunity to belittle me in front of other people and I hid from everyone, trying not to be noticed.' She paused, drawing in an angry breath. 'I looked for ways to get back at him, but he took everything from me that mattered, Luca.' A sob escaped and his throat tightened at her distress, making it hard to breathe.
'Those photograph albums Kate mentioned---they were the only pictures I had of my mother, including a few of me with her. I stashed them away, tried to protect them until I could sneak them out to Kate. But Reg found them. He said I was a thief, that the pictures weren't mine and that I had to be punished. I was seven.' Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Luca's heart broke for her. 'He took me outside, holding me by my hair as I fought him, laughing as he burned all the pictures and made me watch. I tried so hard to hold onto her but I can't remember her face clearly now.'
Luca wrapped his arms around her, feeling guilty that he had pushed her to talk and opened up all this pain. 'That's not your fault, zingarella. It's one of the painful effects of loss. I make sure the children have pictures and memories of their mother, but after nearly four years, the images in my mind are becoming fuzzier around the edges, and more and more I need the pictures to help me remember,' he told her, and she raised her head, understanding and empathy in tearstained eyes.
'It hurts,' she whispered.
'I know, mio amore. I know.' Facing his own pain, he laid more of himself bare in the hope of giving her comfort. 'I didn't have the problems you did growing up, but my parents were archaeologists. They were both Italian, but they met when studying at university in Cambridge. Their work meant they spent weeks, months at a time out in the field, and when I came along---unplanned---I was a hindrance, in the way around digs, so as I grew older, I was left behind. At first I stayed with my only surviving grandparent, my mother's mother, but after she died when I was eleven, I was sent to boarding school in England. I always felt different. Apart. That I had only myself. Which was the case when my parents were killed in an accident in South America when I was sixteen. I saw them so rarely, I hardly remember them.'
'Oh, Luca...'
He shook his head, moved at her capacity for caring and kindness, even at the height of her own distress. 'My situation was nothing like yours. I shared it only to try and show I understood the emotions and the importance of photographs and memories. I just wish there had been someone who could have helped you. Why did no one intervene?' he demanded hoarsely, feeling continuing rage that Polly had been treated so badly.
'Kate tried, but Reg made life difficult for her and her husband James, and kept them from seeing me. As I got older, I'd find ways to meet Kate without Reg knowing, but it was risky,' she told him, her voice thick with emotion. 'Ms Stanbury tried, too. But although he was mean and had a nasty temper, Reg was sharp enough never to do anything physical to hurt me that would have allowed the authorities to step in. Even when I was ill...'
'You were ill?' Anxiety gripped him as her words trailed off. 'What happened?'
She exhaled a ragged breath, and Luca kept her close. 'From the age of eleven to seventeen I had...'Again she hesitated, and Luca held his breath, waiting for her to continue. Lashes lowered, hiding myriad emotions, while her fingers clung ever more resolutely to his. 'I was anorexic,' she finally whispered, hiding her face against him.
Luca took a moment, wrestling with an array of thoughts or feelings, one of which was a strange kind of relief because so much was now explained. But he needed to know more. Equally important was the need to show Polly his support. He eased her head up, his heart squeezing at the embarrassment and shame shadowed in her eyes, emotions he desperately wanted to erase.
Cupping her chin, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, drawing back as he felt the answering response within her. 'You felt food, and what went into your body, was the only thing you could control?' he asked softly, seeing her eyes widen in surprise at his understanding.
'Yes. That was one aspect of it.'
'Tell me,' he invited, adjusting their positions so she was resting comfortably against him, feeling the sigh that shuddered through her.
'It was a combination of things. Control, as you said. Also punishment...for Reg. And self-punishment for me.'
Luca frowned. 'Why for you? Nothing was your fault.'
'You live like that for so long and things become twisted,' she explained. 'The harsher and more verbally abusive Reg became, the stricter my eating regimes. He ran me down so much that I felt worthless, and during my early teens his taunts just echoed in my head, even when he wasn't around. I had no friends. I tried to shrink myself, to hide. I was the skinny kid who kept in the background, never speaking, always with her nose in a book. And Reg's words went round and round that I didn't deserve anything.'
'Polly---'
'It was drummed into me from the age of four that I didn't deserve nice things, that I couldn't have what I wanted or enjoyed, and I somehow turned that round in my own mind to use food as a control,' she told him, shaking her head, the fingers of her free hand picking at the hem of her pyjama top.
Luca didn't know what to say. He was scared at what could have happened to her, filled with admiration for all she had overcome, and utterly determined that she should have everything she wanted---all the good things she deserved---to make her happy for the rest of her life.
'You're an amazing and inspirational young woman, Polly Carrick.'
Luca's husky words, and the sincere admiration and warmth in his eyes, took Polly's breath away. She shook her head. How could he say that after what she had told him? 'No, I---' Her protest was silenced as two fingertips pressed against her lips.
'To have overcome your childhood with such a brutish man is extraordinary enough, but to add in five or six years battling against anorexia while still keeping up your education is incredible, zingarella,' he insisted, her skin awash with sensation as his fingers trailed across her cheek and down her neck, making it hard for her to concentrate. 'You have shown such strength of character to face and overcome all you have. You should be proud of yourself.' Smiling, he brushed another soft and tantalising kiss on her mouth. 'I'm proud of you.'
Polly didn't know what to say. It had been harrowing, dredging up so much from her past, things she had tried to suppress for so long because they hurt so much, but which her return to Penhally and especially revisiting the house she had lived in had brought back to the surface. Facing old demons was tough, but Luca had been the amazing one, offering her support and understanding.
'And now?' he queried, still keeping her as close as was possible in the confines of the chair. 'Do you still have issues with food? Do you still deny yourself the things you like?'
'Not exactly.'
A heartstopping smile brought the dimple to one lean cheek. 'How exactly?'
'I'm mostly OK with food now.' She hesitated, her gaze sliding from his. She wished she could lie, but he was scarily insightful. He was also non-judgemental and that gave her the confidence to carry on. 'I find it difficult eating in public or in front of people. There's still a tiny part of me that feels I have to deny myself things I most want, that I can't be extravagant or enjoy anything but the basics.'
'Thank you, again, for trusting me.'
'Thank you for listening,' she whispered back.
She didn't know who moved first, but the small gap between them narrowed and her lips met his in another slow, lingering, gentle kiss. Red-hot passion and urgent need shimmered around the edges, but as if they both shared a silent agreement, it didn't get out of hand. Yet. For Polly it was almost more erotic and sensual. It was also important, like the silent sealing of some kind of vow.
'It's late,' Luca murmured when they finally broke apart, one hand stroking the wavy strands of her hair. 'I think you've had enough for one day. If I make us some hot chocolate, will you drink it?'
'Yes.'
Her agreement earned her another special smile. As she slid off his lap, she immediately missed the closeness. She went to use the bathroom, her mind in a whirl as she thought back over the evening and how wonderful Luca had been, how easy to talk to. It had been hard and emotional to face many of the issues, but she was surprised to find she felt much better for having confided in him. Some barrier had been crossed tonight. She knew it, was scared by it, and yet there was no urge to run away from it.
Unable to resist, she peeped in the doorway of the twins' bedroom. She had been given a tour of the room earlier by the girls who were proud of their space, especially the feature wall that depicted a forest scene with lots of exotic animals. Polly had been amazed to discover Luca had painted it for them, revealing a talent she hadn't known he possessed.
Now the room was in darkness, save for the nightlight on the chest between the twin beds. Near it, Polly knew, was a photo cube that contained several photos of Elaine. She had experienced mixed emotions looking at the images, seeing for the first time the woman Luca had loved and lost, who'd been so much the opposite of herself. Elaine, she'd discovered, had been tall and athletic and curvy, with auburn hair, green eyes and a wide, vibrant smile. Polly had felt dowdy and inadequate and unfeminine in comparison. And despairing. How could Luca possibly be interested in her, having been married to such a woman?
Sighing, she looked down at the shadowed shapes of the twins. Toni was sprawled on her front, one small hand clasped round the leg of a soft, plush grey elephant who sat protectively on the pillow. Smiling, Polly straightened the duvet. Her gaze switched to Rosie who was on one side and curled in a foetal position, one arm wrapped around her favourite companion, a cuddly Winnie the Pooh. Neither of the girls stirred. For a moment Polly listened to the sound of their breathing, her heart squeezing with emotion. She was alarmed how much they and their father had taken over her life in two short weeks.
Exhaustion overtook her as she left the girls and walked along to the far end of the upstairs corridor to Luca's bedroom. The spare room had yet to be furnished, he had told her earlier, and they had already had one debate about using the sofa, which she had lost. She sat on the edge of the huge bed and knew she didn't want to be there alone. But...
Luca's arrival forestalled her thoughts. 'Thanks.' She accepted the mug and sipped her drink, watching as he went to a chest of drawers and pulled out a T-shirt and pair of boxers. Setting down his own mug, he disappeared into the en suite. The low ache deep inside her begun to tighten, and her hands gripped her mug as she listened to the sounds of him undressing. When he returned to the main room, she kept her head down, anxious not to be caught staring at him.
'What's wrong?'
His voice broke the growing tension that had descended. She shook her head, unable to ask.
'Polly?' He hunkered down in front of her, taking her empty mug and setting it aside before cupping her chin and tilting up her face. 'Talk to me.'
She stared into deep brown eyes and feared he now owned he soul. 'I don't want to be alone, but...'
'But you're not yet ready for anything else to happen between us,' he finished for her with gentle understanding, his fingers stroking her cheek. 'Do not worry, mio amore, I had no intention of leaving you. Now, into bed with you.'
As he moved and turned back the duvet for her, she slid underneath, trying to mask her nervousness with a light-hearted comment. 'You must be used to putting little girls to bed!'
His chuckle resonated to every nerve-ending. 'I can assure you, Polly, that you are not a little girl in my eyes, and I do not feel remotely fatherly towards you,' he added, the sexy rumble of his voice causing the breath to stutter in her lungs. 'I want to make love with you,' he continued huskily, sliding into bed and making her pulse race as he snuggled up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, drawing her back into him. 'I hope it will happen when we are both ready. But there is no pressure, zingarella.' He was silent for a moment, but then his next words, so softly spoken, shocked her. 'I have not even looked at another woman since Elaine, let alone held or kissed or slept with one. I've waited nearly four years. I can wait a bit longer, OK?'
'OK.' Tears stung her eyes as the enormity of what he had said sank in. And he knew, his fingers there to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. 'I'm sorry. I never cry. Not usually.'
'These are not usual times, mio amore. You are going through a difficult process to lay the past to rest that's never easy. I meant what I said,' he continued, his whole being cocooning her in warmth and safety in the darkness. I am proud of you. And I'll be here with you every step of the way. If you want me to. I know there is more you need to deal with---here in Penhally, and with whatever it is that makes you sad when you look at the girls---and I'm here to listen whenever you are ready.'
Her throat was so thick with emotion that a hoarse 'Thank you' was all she could manage.
'Sleep now, zingarella. I will not let anything happen to you.'
Instinctively Polly snuggled deeper into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his musky male aroma, feeling safe, but also on the cusp of something dangerously exciting. She had still not dared to ask what his nickname for her meant, but that he said it in the same affectionate tone as he did the loving endearments for his children made her feel warm and cherished for the first time in her life.
Luca was wonderful and she didn't deserve him. Or his girls. He had taken everything she had thrown at him and he said he was ready for more. In the darkness, she listened to his steady breathing and the regular beat of his heart. Her hands clung to the arm wrapped strong and sure around her waist.
A silent tear squeezed between her lashes and trickled down her cheek.
What would he say---and would he still be there---when he found out that she had killed her baby?
'THANK you, Polly. It takes a while to stir these old bones to action.'
Jane Watson smiled her appreciation as Polly held the Zimmer frame steady and helped the older lady rise stiffly to her feet. Once up, she paused a moment, a faint grimace on her face as she allowed painful joints to adjust and settle.
'Just take your time.'
Glancing through the front window of the ground-floor flat in the sheltered-housing unit, Polly could see Luca chatting to Brian Watson as he ushered the twins out to the car. As always when looking at him, her breath hitched, her pulse raced and myriad conflicting thoughts and emotions filled her mind.
The news that they were to visit to the twins' grandparents on Sunday morning, before going to the riding stables, had terrified Polly. How could she possibly go with Luca and his children to visit his late wife's parents? A second question had followed closely on the heels of the first. Whatever would they think? Of her---and of her inclusion as part of their group?
As it turned out, she had been taken aback by the warmth of the Watsons' welcome and their ready acceptance of her presence. She had been grateful for Luca's silent support and encouragement, and she knew instinctively that he was watching out for her. But it hadn't been necessary. As he had promised her, there had been no awkwardness at all. Elaine was remembered with love and affection but Polly sensed all was being done to move on and make life normal and exciting and full of promise for the children.
Polly had been concerned by the frailness of both Jane and Brian, and understood Luca's relief that the older couple were now living somewhere that allowed them to maintain some independence and yet had help on hand twenty-four hours a day. With Brian's heart condition and Jane's rheumatoid arthritis and asthma, it was a miracle they had kept so active for so long and had managed any care of the twins in the early years. Polly hoped that now the couple were settled in the sheltered-housing flat, they would follow Luca's advice and register with the Penhally Bay Surgery. She would be honoured to be part of the team to care for them.
'Can I do anything for you before we go?' Polly queried now.
'No, my love, but bless you for asking. Oh, it's been so wonderful meeting you!'
Surprised, Polly found herself drawn into an awkward embrace, the Zimmer frame between them. 'Thank you and Brian for making me so welcome. And for sharing with me your memories of my mother,' she added, her voice tinged with emotion.
She had been amazed to discover that Jane had known her mother, had been her teacher at school---a little surprise Luca had dropped on her as they had arrived that morning. To hear anecdotes wholly new to her about Yvonne and Kate as young teenagers had been a special and unexpected gift she would treasure.
'I hope we can now look forward to seeing you often,' the older woman said as she made her way slowly towards the door. 'Brian and I are so grateful to you.'
'To me? But why?' Polly exclaimed in astonishment.
Jane's smile was engaging, almost girlish. 'You have brought happiness and real smiles to the faces of Luca and the girls these last two weeks. Forgive an old woman her interference. Luca hasn't shown interest in anything but the girls or his work. Of course his grief and his mixed emotions over all that happened were natural when Elaine died---it was a shock and a loss for us all.' She paused a moment, sadness evident in her eyes. 'Brian and I have been worried as more time has gone by and Luca has continued to ignore his own happiness. We've spoken of it to him, he knows he has our support when he is ready to move on. But he showed no sign of it. He's a wonderful man and an excellent father.' Her deep affection apparent, Jane's gaze moved to the tableau outside the window.
'Yes, he is,' Polly admitted softly, watching him tease Toni.
Shifting position to make herself more comfortable, Jane turned to face her and Polly couldn't look away from the warmth in the older woman's gaze. 'A lot of female doctors and nurses at St Piran Hospital tried to get themselves noticed, but Luca was blind to them all. Brian and I despaired. Then, two weeks ago, Luca met you.'
'Oh, but...I don't think...' Polly's confused reply came to a halt when Jane smiled and laid a hand on her arm.
'I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, my love. Far from it. I just wanted you to know that Brian and I have no reservations---quite the opposite. You have our blessing.'
Embarrassed and unsure, Polly was saved from answering as the door opened and Luca stepped inside. 'Are you ready to go?' he asked.
'Yes.' Polly met his gaze, noting how his eyes narrowed as he studied her, as if he could read her agitation. 'I was just on my way out.'
He stepped closer, resting a hand at the small of her back. 'Is everything all right?
'Fine,' Polly answered, hoping her smile wasn't as shaky as it felt.
'I think I ran a bit ahead of myself,' Jane admitted, her tone apologetic. 'I was trying to reassure Polly that Brian and I are wholly in favour and supportive of you both.'
Luca gave her a gentle squeeze, keeping her close. 'Thank you, Jane. I'm sorry to rush, but I arranged to meet Georgina at the riding stables at eleven,' he explained, acknowledging his motherin-law's sentiments but neatly changing the subject, Polly noticed.
'Of course, you must go. The girls are so excited!' Jane laughed, giving Luca a kiss and hug. 'I shall look forward to hearing all about it.' Smiling, she turned her frame to a better angle and Polly found herself hugged again, then Jane rested the palm of one frail, papery hand against her cheek and shook her head. 'You look so like your mother, it's uncanny.'
'Really? Oh, no, I don't think so. Although maybe we had similar hair colour,' Polly murmured in protest, unable to believe it. The features of her mother's face had long been hazy, but she knew Yvonne had been beautiful---just as she knew that she, Plain Polly from Penhally, was not.
Polly's mind was buzzing as they said their final goodbyes to Jane and Brian. She would have thought she had dreamed the last couple of days if they hadn't been so real. Two nights running she had lain in Luca's arms in his bed. As well as sleeping better than ever before in her life, she also felt jumpy and on edge...and finding it increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to either ravish Luca or beg him to ravish her---or both.
She had woken on Saturday morning to find herself alone in bed, but the girls had come running, clambering over her and bestowing hugs and kisses as they gave her a thirtyminute call for breakfast. They had all visited the farmers' market together, and then Rosie and Toni had gone happily to the childminder, while Luca had accompanied her to the surgery for the clinic. It had been a busy but rewarding session, and she had been grateful for Luca's help and admiring of his skill.
Nothing had been discussed or decided, but instead of returning to the flat as Polly had expected to---and, indeed, had told herself she must---Saturday night had found her back at Keeper's Cottage. The girls had been adorable. They seemed to find nothing peculiar about her presence in their house---or their father's bed. Luca didn't make a big issue of it but remained open and truthful with them.
Polly had worried in case the girls mentioned it to anyone at school, or to their grandparents, concerned for any effect it might have on Luca more than herself, but he wasn't bothered at all.
'We have done nothing wrong, zingarella. It is no one else's business.'
Luca had spoken the words more than once over the weekend and Polly knew they were true. They hadn't done anything wrong. They hadn't done anything at all---yet. A shiver of fearful anticipation rippled thorough her. She knew Luca was giving her time to feel comfortable, to be ready---knew, too, that it had been as long for him as it had for her since being intimate with anyone---but all that succeeded in doing was to ratchet up the tension and cause simmering expectation. Some time soon, the cauldron was going to boil over and that both scared and excited her. As much because she knew there were things she had not yet told him. And, when it happened, it meant facing another inner fear. Having Luca see the body she hated.
For now she was taking each moment as it came and marvelling how, in such a short time, she had become immersed in the d'Azzaro family's lives. Things had changed so dramatically in a matter of hours, without her conscious thought or choosing, and it was almost as if she was living someone else's life. A fantasy life that surely had to end, crashing her back to earth and reality with a bump.
A light touch on her arm pulled her sharply from her reverie and she turned to look at Luca. 'Hmm...did I miss something?' she murmured, warmth stealing through her in response to the slow-burn smile he sent her.
'Which way, zingarella?'
'Oh.' She sat up straighter in her seat and looked around to see where they were, amazed to discover they had almost reached their destination. 'Goodness, we've arrived in no time at all,' she told him, thankful there was no other traffic on the road as Luca kept the engine idling and waited patiently at the crossroads. 'It seemed to take for ever to get here in the old days when I had to pedal a rusty old bicycle!' Embarrassed that she had been rambling on, and that the emotions the memories evoked were showing in the shakiness of her voice, she cleared her throat and gave him the information he needed. 'Take a right here, and it's about half a mile down on the left-hand side.'
'Are you all right?' Luca asked, lowering his voice so that the twins, chattering together in the back, could not hear him.
'Fine,' Polly managed, not at all sure that she was.
His fingers lingered a moment longer before he withdrew them and moved his hand to put the car in gear. 'Is this the first time you have come out here since returning to Penhally?'
'Yes. It feels strange,' she admitted after a pause, her voice low.
'If at any time it's too much and you want to go, promise you will tell me.'
Luca's husky demand took her by surprise. Her gaze met his, and she saw the understanding in deep brown eyes. His intuition was scary sometimes. They had met two weeks ago. But he knew her. How could he see inside her soul? 'Luca, I---'
'Promise me,' he insisted.
The silent battle of wills didn't last long. Sighing, Polly nodded her head. 'OK.'
As Luca pulled away from the crossroads, Polly wiped suddenly damp palms down the thighs of the loose-fitting jeans she had worn, more appropriate for the occasion than her customary gypsy skirts. A knot formed in her stomach as they approached the entrance to the stables. The sign at the end of the drive was new---bright and informative without being ostentatious---and Georgina's name now had pride of place along with her husband's as owners and instructors.
A hundred yards down the unpaved track brought them to an extended parking area, a gate preventing people from driving to the yard itself. Polly climbed out, breathing in the country air and the familiar scents as they all walked towards the main yard.
'OK, bambine. Team talk.' Luca gathered the twins to him and hunkered down, causing the denim jeans to tauten over muscled thighs and taut rear, raising Polly's temperature several degrees. 'Do you remember what we said about the way to behave around animals and in the stables?'
Two dark heads nodded in agreement. Polly's throat tightened as she watched the little tableau in front of her...caring father and devoted daughters at once angelic and mischievous. At the moment, the girls wore identical expressions, managing to combine solemn concentration as they watched their father through big brown eyes with the bubbling excitement at what was to come. She wanted to hug them. And Luca.
'Yes, Papà. We're to talk quietly and we mustn't rush around,' Rosie said, sending her father a sweet smile.
Toni shifted from side to side with pent-up energy. 'And we do what you and Polly and the horse lady tell us to do.'
'Good girls.' Luca straightened and Polly met his gaze, her heart turning over as he winked at her. 'Let's go and meet Georgina.'
As they approached the yard office, a young woman came out and told them that Georgina was on the telephone and would be out to greet them shortly. Polly used the few moments to look around her. There had been considerable improvements and upgrading since her last visit, but the core of the place was the same, and memories swamped her.
The yard was busy and Polly remembered what it had been like to work here. How she'd missed these surroundings...being around the horses, even mucking out stables and cleaning tack. If she closed her eyes she could almost capture the familiar scents of leather and saddle soap and neastsfoot oil.
'All right?'
Polly turned and met Luca's intense dark gaze, seeing the concern for her in the depths of his eyes. She hadn't been sure how she would feel revisiting what had been her sanctuary and escape, but...Releasing a shaky breath, she nodded and managed a smile.
'I'm fine.'
Luca held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded, apparently satisfied.
'I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Dr d'Azzaro. I won't be a second.'
Georgie's voice, long unheard and yet familiar, came from inside the office. Feeling nervous, excited, unsure, Polly missed Luca's reply. Her thoughts were on Georgina. They hadn't been friends, exactly. Polly hadn't had any friends. But Georgina had been the closest to one she'd. Outgoing, self-assured and popular, Georgina had always been kind to her, seeming to understand her need to be around the horses and making her feel welcome as she spent all the time she could there, doing any chores assigned her and earning herself the occasional ride or lesson which she could never otherwise have afforded.
As Georgina stepped out of the office, her attention was focused on Luca and the children. It gave Polly a moment to study her former classmate who was dressed in the ubiquitous jodhpurs, riding boots and a sweatshirt with the riding stable's monogram on the front. Of average height, Georgina was slim but curvy, with shoulder-length, burnished brown hair and hazel eyes. She certainly didn't look thirteen years older, Polly thought.
'We'll have a look round and introduce you to some ponies to see how you feel, and then we can discuss what you'd like to do riding-wise,' Georgina suggested, smiling as the twins beamed and clapped their hands with glee.
'That sounds good, thank you,' Luca agreed.
Nodding, Georgina turned and looked at Polly, then did a double-take, surprise, disbelief and, finally, delight, crossing her face. 'My, God! Polly...is that really you?'
'Hello, Georgie.' Polly's throat felt thick with emotion.
Georgie closed the gap between them and enveloped her in a hug. 'Oh, it's so good to see you! You look great---barely a day older, damn you! And so pretty,' she enthused, stepping back a pace to look at her.
'Oh, I'm just the same old me,' Polly dismissed, her smile faltering. 'You, however, look amazing.'
'Thanks. Luka adds the sparkle---' She broke off and giggled as she looked at them. 'My husband, I mean. Luka with a "k"!' she explained, making them laugh with her and at the same time demonstrating the subtle difference in pronunciation between the two men's names.
'How are your parents?' Polly asked.
'They're well, thanks for asking.' Georgie's smile was mischievous. 'It took Dad a while to let go and get used to retirement---and to me marrying Luka---but he's fine now.'
Malcolm Somers had run things with military precision, his fingers on the pulse of everything that went on, and Polly found it hard to imagine him relaxing.
'They'll be so delighted to have news of you,' Georgie said, surprising her anew. 'We all missed you. Oh, Polly, I had no idea where you'd gone or how to contact you. And I must admit I feared you might never come back,' she told her, giving her another brief hug. 'We must arrange to meet and have a really good talk---we have so much to catch up on. OK?'
Polly nodded. It would be good to rekindle a friendship with bubbly, generous Georgie---one of the few people who had been kind to her and of whom she had good memories from the past. 'I'd like that.'
'Excellent! As for now, would you like to have a walk around and explore? We've made a few changes in the last couple of years.' A glint appeared in Georgie's eyes. 'Do you remember where Long Meadow is?' she asked, and Polly nodded. 'Well, you might enjoy a walk down there, too.'
Knowing Polly needed some time alone, Luca reluctantly watched her walk away, then turned his attention to his excited daughters and the purpose of their visit here, following Georgina and the girls into the office for a chat.
'Three, nearly four isn't too young to begin riding lessons?' Luca asked, keen to assess the woman who might well be in charge of the safety of his children.
'It's never too young to learn to ride---or swim.' Georgina smiled and looked at the girls. 'My father will tell you I was doing both before I could walk! But it very much depends on the child, too. I don't believe in forcing anyone, but I do believe in supporting and encouraging those who have a natural aptitude or who clearly enjoy it and benefit from it. And it is very soon apparent which children fall into which group.'
Luca nodded, liking her answer. 'Rosie and Toni have been talking ponies for some time. I thought it best to wait and see how they get on before investing in hats and boots and things of their own.'
'Very sensible. We have everything they need to begin with.' She called one of her stable girls, who found the rightsized hats for the twins. Georgina smiled, curiosity in her eyes. 'It's fantastic to see Polly. How long has she been back in Cornwall?'
'Since July, but from what I understand it has been difficult for her, so don't be too hard on her for not coming to see you before,' he suggested gently, seeing the play of emotions across Georgina's expressive face.
'No. You're right. As I said, I never expected to see her again. It must have taken a lot for her to come back here. Why did she? What is she doing?'
'Polly is a GP---an excellent one---and she is working at the Penhally surgery, like me. We only met two weeks ago, but I know she came here when she was young and things were difficult at home.'
'I felt sad for her. There were rumours and stories about Reg Searle---his drinking, his gambling, his inability to hold down a job or care properly for Polly. She was always so lonely and unhappy,' Georgina confirmed, breaking Luca's heart anew. 'She kept so much to herself, always in the background, losing herself in her books. When she started coming here and clearly enjoyed it, my parents and I did all we could to encourage her. My mother worried constantly that she was so thin, and we wanted to draw her into the family, at least to feed her, but we were afraid of driving her away, depriving her of the very thing she needed.'
Luca watched as Georgina rose to her feet and crossed to a large pinboard, which held hundreds of photos of horses, ponies and riders. Unerringly her hand went to one in particular and she took it down, smiling as she turned around.
'Polly had one special friend here. I never let on that I knew, or broke her confidence, but I often heard her pouring out her heart to him. It nearly broke mine.'
'Him?' Luca experienced an uncomfortable moment of jealousy.
Georgina handed him the photo and he looked down, seeing a thin little girl with untidy long blonde hair, her arms wrapped round the neck of a chestnut pony. 'Polly...' He could see the loneliness in her eyes, and if he thought she was tiny now, she had been like a little waif when this photo had been taken.
'Polly was about thirteen then. The pony, Copper Canyon, was five. I know because my father bought a lovely Irish mare, not knowing she was in foal, and Copper was born on my eighth birthday and given to me. I saw how Polly bonded with him and was happy to share.'
'Thank you for being such a good friend to her,' he said, his voice rough.
'Copper's twenty-two now, and retired from any ridingschool duties.'
Luca realised the significance for Polly. 'But he's here?'
'Yes.' Georgina's smile was wide. 'That's why I sent her down to Long Meadow. I'd love to see her face when she finds him!'
So would he, Luca admitted to himself, as much to make sure Polly was all right as anything else. She had been through a great deal of emotional turmoil in the last few days and he was full of admiration for her courage and resilience, coping with each new surprise while still coming to terms with her past.
The weekend had been both heaven and hell. It was purgatory having Polly in his bed, snuggled up against him and wrapped in his arms. He could breathe in her scent---lilac mingling with her sweet femininity---feel her warmth and fragility, the beat of her heart, but not to be able to touch, kiss and make love to her as he so wanted to was driving him crazy. He had to slip from the bed each morning before she became aware of his aroused state. And he was fed up with cold showers. Yet on the two nights they had been together, he had slept better than he had in years.
Polly was also overcoming whatever hesitancy she had first exhibited with Rosie and Toni. That the twins loved her was obvious, and he thought back to last night when they had begged for her to put them to bed. Polly had looked startled, unsure, and he had feared she would say no, but she had agreed. After clearing up following the night-time bath ritual, he'd stood outside the girls' room, leaning against the wall. Polly had been a revelation, and he'd discovered a whole new side to her, one which had seen his growing love for her expand even more.
It had been Toni's turn to select a story and true to form it had both animals and an adventure in it. Polly had surprised and delighted him, displaying a natural gift for storytelling, getting involved and putting on different voices for all the characters. He hadn't been able to tear himself away, enchanted by this fun side of her soft and gentle nature. The story finished, he'd peeped into the room, and his heart had clenched at the sight of both his girls cuddled up against Polly on Toni's bed as she had stroked their hair.
'Mamma died when we were born.'
Rosie's sleepy words drifted to him and he drew back, holding his breath as he waited for Polly's reply.
'I know, darling, and I'm so sorry,' Polly soothed.
'Papà said she had to go to heaven,' Rosie added, and although it hurt, Luca was relieved there was acceptance, not distress in his daughter's voice.
'My mother died when I was very young, too, so I know how it feels. But you and Toni are blessed to have Papà. He loves you so much, and he'll always be there for you, encouraging you to reach for your dreams and sheltering you from harm.'
Luca had no idea if the girls had heard all Polly's words because by the time she had finished speaking, they were asleep. But he had heard them. And it took a few moments to ease the lump that had formed in his throat. He had felt so humbled that Polly believed him to be a good father but there had also been the painful knowledge of everything Polly had lacked, that as a child she'd been deprived of the love and care and cherishing she had deserved. He hoped it wasn't too late to give her those things, because with every day that passed, he was more and more sure that he wanted her in his life...for all his life.
With Polly, he felt the most amazing closeness and intimacy, and a real sense of peace. It was extraordinary how far he had come in two weeks, from meeting Polly, fighting against the initial desire and not wanting any involvement with a woman to now...unable to bear a moment apart from her, knowing something very special was happening that could make a huge difference to his future and that of his children.
He also knew there were issues yet to be discussed that Polly needed to face before she was free to embrace that future with him.
'You can keep the photo,' Georgina said now, drawing him from his thoughts. She hesitated, then she glanced up and met his gaze, a serious expression in her hazel eyes. 'I'm only mentioning this because of the way Polly responded when I complimented her on how she looked.'
'Go on,' Luca invited, his attention sharpening. He, too, had noted Polly's dismissive denial, especially as it had come so soon after her rejection of Jane's comment about her sharing her mother's looks.
'I know Polly doesn't have a copy of this picture, because I offered her one at the time and she wouldn't take it.'
Luca frowned. 'Why not?'
'She said it would cause trouble if her father found it and she didn't want to risk her visits here to the stables,' Georgina admitted, and he felt sick to his stomach at the implications. 'She gave it back to me and said she'd written a suitable caption on the back. It's what Reg called her.'
Something in the young woman's voice forewarned Luca that he wouldn't like what he was about to see. Slowly, he turned the photograph over, his gaze zeroing in on the four words written in a youthful but recognisable hand. Plain Polly from Penhally. Dio! He could only imagine the damage caused by the planting of those words in Polly's mind when she was so young and fragile---words he feared the man who had dared to call himself her father would have repeated insidiously, and, from all he had learned so far, with perverse enjoyment, knowing it would hurt.
To judge from all Polly had said, and her problems with the anorexia, she had believed those words. Did she still? Was that what lay behind her lack of self-belief and the way she hid her body? Was that why she rejected any suggestions that she was attractive and desirable? He needed to find out. Because if it was, it was way past time he did something about it.
'Maybe Polly would like a copy of the picture now,' Georgina suggested.
Luca nodded. 'Thanks. I'll take care of it.'
'No...thank you,' she countered with emphasis.
Luca raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'Me?'
'Yes. For bringing Polly back here...' She paused a moment, watching him. 'And gut instinct tells me you're just what Polly needs. Look after her, Dr d'Azzaro.'
'I plan to. If she'll let me. And it's Luca...with a "c",' he added, making her laugh.
Still chuckling, Georgina rose to her feet. 'OK, girls, shall we get started and take you for your first ride?'
Following through the yard, his heart swelled in his chest as he watched his daughters almost burst with joy as they met their first real-life pony. He loved them so much. They were his life. But he still found it hard to reconcile what Elaine had done...and how she had done it. If things were to go much further, he needed to know that Polly would never try to do the same. There was an issue with her and children, that was obvious, and it was one more important thing he needed to understand. Soon.
The changes and improvements Georgina and Luka were making to the riding stables were obvious, and everything about the yard seemed more professional and run to an even higher standard. After looking round the new indoor school, Polly went back outside and paused for a moment to watch the lesson under way in one of the ménages. The horses and ponies were in excellent condition, and all the staff, including volunteers as she had been, were smart and wearing monogrammed sweatshirts like the one Georgina had on.
As Polly walked down between the well-fenced paddocks, some of which were being rested, while others contained animals enjoying good-quality grazing, the late September sun was warm on her skin. Occasional trees lined the track, providing pockets of shade, and Polly stepped into one of these when she reached Long Meadow, an attractive field bordered by woods and which had a shallow stream flowing through it.
Folding her arms on the top of the post-and-rail fence, Polly sighed, letting the memories roll over her. Her gaze moved over the half-dozen ponies in the field before her, settled on one and stopped.
'No...it can't be.' The words whispered from her as she stared in disbelief at the chestnut gelding grazing a short distance away. 'Copper?' She shook her head, her heart thudding in her chest as she raised her voice and called again, loudly this time. 'Copper!'
The pony's head came up and turned in her direction. She called his name once more, hardly daring to believe it was true, but a soft whicker sounded in answer and the pony began to walk towards her. Copper Canyon, her special friend! He must be in his twenties, she calculated, amazed and delighted to see how well he looked. Surely it was fanciful to believe he remembered her after thirteen years apart? Yet there was no denying the way he was responding to her voice. And Georgina must have known...she had deliberately sent her down here.
He arrived before her, his head over the fence, ears pricked, eyes alert. 'Oh, Copper,' she whispered, tears escaping as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the silken warmth of his neck.
There was nothing like the smell of horse. Polly closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar, comforting scent, feeling some of her tension melting away. She ran her fingers through Copper's mane and along the muscled curve of his neck, and it was as if thirteen years had been stripped away. He'd been her only real friend. Time and again she had poured out her heart to him, sobbing out her pain and despair about Reg, her hopes and dreams for the future.
She drew back a little, stroking his face, rubbing the spot at the base of his ear, just as he had always loved, enjoying the softness of his muzzle as he explored her face and neck. All too soon he moved a few steps away and began to graze again. She missed the immediate contact but basked in the joy of their reunion.
'Are you all right, zingarella?'
With a startled gasp, Polly swung round to find Luca close behind her, recalling too late the evidence of her tears. 'Yes...thanks.'
'And the tears, they are happy ones at seeing your special friend?' he asked, stepping even closer, making her supremely aware of him.
Polly nodded, unable to force out any words as Luca's hands cupped her face, the pads of his thumbs erasing the moisture from her cheeks. 'The girls?'
'Are in their element and loving every moment,' he confirmed. 'They want you to see them.'
'OK.'
There was something different about him. Polly couldn't explain what it was, but every part of her responded to it, the aching knot deep inside tightening and every nerve-ending tingling as his fingers continued to caress her face, slowly moving down to her throat, and then lower, whispering along her collar bones. He leaned in, his lips nibbling along her jawline to her ear, teasing her lobe before his tongue tickled the sensitive hollow beneath. A shudder rippled through her.
'Luca?' she whispered, a curious mix of uncertainty and excitement building inside her, her legs feeling too unsteady to hold her upright. 'What is it?'
He looked up and her breath caught at the sultry, slow burn heat in deep brown eyes. 'There's been a change of plan.' Another step closer and his body made contact with hers, gently rubbing against her, firing her blood and liquefying her bones with the full-body caress.
'W-What do you mean?' she stammered.
'I mean, mio amore, that I cannot allow another day to end with you believing you are unattractive and undesirable.' His thumb brushed across her trembling lower lip. 'So I'm taking you home to prove to you how beautiful and sexy you are.'
BY THE time they left the stables after the twins' first successful riding experience, Polly had convinced herself that she had misunderstood Luca's shocking pronouncement. More of her tension eased on the journey back to Penhally until, that was, Luca made an unexpected stop at the deserted surgery.
'I will be just a moment.'
True to his word, he was back in a very short time, although he didn't appear to be carrying anything. Polly, her stomach fluttering uneasily, couldn't help but be curious about what he was up to, but as he slid behind the wheel, their gazes met, and the sultry expression in deep, dark eyes sucked all the air from her lungs. OK...so maybe it was safer for her not to know.
She had hardly regained her breath when they made another unscheduled stop. Polly had no idea how or when Luca had arranged it---or what reason he had given---but the twins were to spend some time with Oliver and Chloe. Delighted at the prospect of playing with Chloe's cats and meeting up with Gabriel and Lauren to walk Foxy, Rosie and Toni ran off without a backward glance.
Left alone with Luca, Polly felt the tension ratchet up on the final mile back to Keeper's Cottage. Every part of her seemed electrified, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, whereas Luca, damn him, appeared composed and unruffled. Exactly what he had in mind for them Polly wasn't sure, but her imagination was racing at a million miles an hour. And now they were home and she was running out of time.
'Luca,' she murmured, desperate need, fear, excitement and anxiety just some of the emotions churning inside her as he took her hand and led her up the stairs to his bedroom. 'I'm not at all sure about this.'
'I'm very sure.'
How could he be? Her heart was threatening to beat right out of her chest and she felt paralysed with nerves as Luca moved around the room, turning down the duvet, removing his watch, his shoes and socks. He then took a packet of condoms from his pocket and set it on the bedside table. She swallowed back a rush of fearful excitement, realising now what the impromptu stop at the surgery had been for.
Colour tinging her cheeks, Polly could only stare as Luca's fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt and slowly, slowly began to undo them. She had seen him wearing less on the beach, and in the last couple of days---had slept with him, in this very bed, with only a couple of thin layers of material between them. But this was different. Luca was different. He'd changed the rules. And now...Oh, my!
He slid off his shirt and tossed it aside in a gesture of thoughtless abandon, as if all that mattered was to be rid of it, revealing all that smooth, olive skin and rippling muscle. Next he turned his attention to his belt, unfastening it and sliding it free from the loops at the waistband of his jeans, letting it fall where it may. His wallet came next, drawn from his back pocket and set on the nearby chest. The snap of the button and parting of the teeth of the zip sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the room and Polly fought for each ragged breath, unable to move or to look away as he eased out of the jeans. Dressed only now in boxer shorts, he closed the gap between them.
Luca had the most incredible physique. Her mouth watered as her gaze devoured him, moving from his strong shoulders down to his broad chest and six-pack abdomen, the covering of dark hair she itched to feel that arrowed down in a tantalising line over his navel and disappearing beneath his boxer shorts.
He halted in front of her...so close that the warm, musky aroma of him teased her senses, heightening her arousal and clouding her thoughts. One of her hands lifted, and it took a supreme effort of will to resist the temptation to explore.
'You can touch,' he invited, his voice warm and low and sexy as he caught her hand and drew her palm to rest over his heart, near the tattoo bearing the twins' names, where she could feel its steady if rapid beat. 'I long to feel your hands on my body.'
His words made her hot all over, her pulse racing as she imagined having the freedom to do just that. For now she was preoccupied with savouring the feel of warm male skin and discovering that the dark hair on his chest was silkier than she had expected...so much so that she was scarcely aware of Luca picking up his wallet and taking something out.
'Do you remember this, zingarella?' he asked softly.
Polly was shocked to find herself looking at an old photograph of her in her early teens with Copper. 'Yes. I remember.'
'Georgina gave it to me. She said you wouldn't keep it all those years ago, but she thought you might like a copy now,' Luca explained, and Polly cursed the sting of tears that pricked her eyes as old memories and emotions flooded her.
'Th-Thank you.'
'Do you also remember writing on the back?'
Something in his tone alerted her and her gaze clashed with his. Dark eyes were filled with compassion and implacable determination. She looked back at the photo, seeing the scruffy, painfully thin little girl she had been, and briefly closed her eyes. What had she written? She didn't know.
Luca turned the picture over. For a moment Polly couldn't bring herself to look. When she did, an involuntary sound escaped, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She averted her gaze, humiliated that Luca knew the words that resonated in her brain now, just as they had done for over twenty-five years...Plain Polly from Penhally.
'Those were Reg's words?' Luca asked, refusing to bestow the title 'father' on the man, and hoping for Polly's sake that the anger banked inside him was masked.
'Yes.'
The word whispered out on a sigh, but it was the shame, resignation and hurt in her blue eyes that cut him into pieces. 'This morning, when Jane said you looked like your mother, you denied it. Why?'
'My mother was beautiful. I know I'm not,' she riposted, lashes lowering to hide her expression. Her voice was thick and low when she spoke again. 'I've always known what I am.'
'And what do you think you are, zingarella?'
'The anorexia took its toll. And Rex was right...so was Charles, my ex-husband.' She paused a moment, and he felt a shudder ripple through her. 'I'm unfeminine, scrawny and unattractive.'
Luca had never known that silence could be so loud before, but as each second passed and neither of them spoke, Luca's anger roared in his ears, growing to fever-pitch---anger at the man who had dared to call himself a father and who had conditioned Polly from such a young age to feel so bad about herself. At the moment the information about her marriage was sketchy, but he very much wanted to know about her husband, Charles. From what she had just said, the man had failed to make Polly feel loved and cherished. If Luca had his way he would be telling---and showing---her every day for the rest of their lives how beautiful and loved and special she was. Starting now.
'Come with me.'
Luca knew he was taking a risk, but he believed he had to do it, that it was time...for both of them. He could feel Polly shaking as he led her across the room to the full-length mirror, placing her in front of it and standing up close behind her. Wrapping one arm loosely around her waist, he cupped her chin with his free hand and raised her head until their gazes locked in the mirror.
'You are a beautiful woman, Polly.' He saw the immediate denial and disbelief in her eyes, but he was determined to counteract them. 'Your skin is flawless, peachy-soft, so touchable,' he told her, hearing the huskiness of his voice as he began his honest assessment of her. His fingers caressed the line of her jaw before moving on the trace all the features of her face. 'The contrast of your pale skin against mine fascinates me. Your bone structure is exquisite.'
'L-Luca...'
He shushed her interruption, continuing to hold her gaze in the mirror, feeling her response to his touch and his words in the tremble of her body, the faint wash of colour across her cheeks, the unsteadiness of her breathing and the increasingly rapid beat of her heart.
'Your eyes, glinting like dark sapphires, mesmerise me,' he continued, using one finger to lightly trace her brows, before moving on down. 'This is so cute!' He smiled as he gently tweaked the tip of her small, straight nose. She was following his every move, he could see, confusion mingling with doubt and growing desire. He brushed the pad of his thumb across the swell of her lips, which parted instantly. 'And as for your mouth...if I don't kiss you properly, very soon, I shall go crazy. Your lips are so soft, so sexy. I want to taste you, to unleash the burning passion we've both been trying hard to keep in check since we met. I want you, Polly. I want to see all of you, kiss all of you, spend hours making love with you.'
A whimper escaped her, a needy little sound that aroused him even more, and as she leaned back into him for support, he splayed his hand low over her belly to hold her close as he rubbed his hips against the delicate curve of her bottom, letting her know just how hard he was for her.
'Can you feel how much I want you?' he murmured against her ear, teasing the lobe between his lips before sucking on it, teasing her as her breath hitched and she swayed against him. 'You, Polly. For the first time since Elaine died, I'm attracted to a woman. It is you I respond to, you I find attractive and beautiful.'
His fingers moved to the zip of her fleece, opening it before easing it from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. As his fingers moved to the buttons of the shirt she wore beneath it, he watched her reactions in the mirror. Her body tensed as he undid one button at a time and disposed of the shirt. The final layer was a sleeveless white crop top. The cotton fabric clung to her body and revealed that she was not wearing a bra. Aroused, swollen nipples were clearly defined, cresting the small globes of her breasts. He couldn't wait another moment to touch her, his palms covering her through the soft fabric and gently shaping her firm flesh.
Polly moaned, her head dropping back against his shoulder as her body arched to his caresses. Impatient, his hands gathered the material, pulling it up, and she raised her arms to allow him to remove it, but dropped them to cover herself, her face flushed in the reflection of the mirror, uncertainty returning to her eyes.
He whispered his fingertips up her arms and across her collar bones, feeling her quiver. 'Why do you wear all these clothes to hide your figure, mio amore?'
'I haven't got a figure...not like Chloe and Lauren and Gemma,' she whispered.
'You most certainly have.' Taking his time, he gently eased her arms from across her chest, every part of her shaking as he stroked her abdomen, slowly working up until his fingers shaped the outline of her breasts, zeroing in to the swollen dusky-pink nipples that crested them. 'You're beautiful...small but perfectly formed.'
To his surprise and consternation, even as her body responded instinctively to his touch and his hands slid down to unfasten her jeans, tears filled her eyes. 'You don't understand.'
'I know you hate your body and it cuts me up inside that you cannot see what I see...that you are lovely and special and desirable,' he answered, his lips skimming kisses across her bare shoulder. 'Let me show you, Polly. Let me love you.'
'I have a scar.' Her voice broke. Unable to bear it any more, he turned her in his arms and gathered her close. 'There are things I need to tell you that might change your mind.'
He cupped her face, thumbs brushing the moisture from her cheeks. 'Nothing will change my mind and a scar is not going to put me off,' he reassured her.
'It's afternoon,' she protested weakly as he backed her towards the bed. 'The curtains...'
'No one can see in. And I want to see you. Just as I want to make love to you at any time of day,' he teased, working deftly on the fastening of her jeans and brushing them and her tiny lace panties down her legs. He couldn't help but see the scar low on her abdomen or know from its size and position that a painful story lay behind it, but he wanted her reassured before she told him. 'Do you think I am not nervous, too,
zingarella? Do you think I am not scared?'
Sapphire-blue eyes widened. 'You? But why?'
'I've not kissed or touched a woman in nearly four years---have not done anything with anyone but Elaine since the day I met her. What if I disappoint you? It's scary starting over with someone new.' He saw her surprise, but laid out his own insecurities for her to see. His hands gently caressed her. She was so fragile he feared she might snap if he held her too tightly or made love to her with the fiery passion churning inside him. 'You're so beautiful, so slender...What if I hurt you?'
Polly was stunned as she listened to Luca's fears. She had no doubt they were genuine and that he had them at all, that he could doubt himself, eased some of her own worries. There were things she had to tell him. He said now they wouldn't matter, but what if they did? What if she told him first and it did put him off, and then she never knew what it would be like to make love with him? She was scared, of so many things, including what might happen afterwards, but whatever happened, she had to grasp this moment---in case it was the only one she ever had.
Filled with an uncharacteristic boldness, her hands returned to his body, her fingers tracing the corded muscles of his arms, feeling his strength, the hard muscle under warm, smooth skin. She lightly dragged her nails down his chest, through the soft, springy hair, gaining confidence as he groaned, dark eyes heavy lidded with pleasure and passion. Unable to wait another moment, she stepped up and pressed her body against him, satisfying the need to feel his chest against her own, his hair an exciting caress against her soft skin and peaked nipples that hardened even further as she rubbed herself against him.
Every millimetre of her skin was on fire from the caress of his hands exploring her own body and she was trembling from head to toe, frustrated that she couldn't get close enough. She looked up, the hollow ache inside her intensifying at the primal look in his dark eyes.
Their mouths met, no longer with soft, gentle, safe kisses. For the first time, this was the real thing and instantly the passion ignited, exploded, enveloping them both in its blazing intensity. Polly could do nothing but surrender herself to it, lost in something extraordinary and which she had never experienced before. Neither of them had allowed the desire to take hold before, but now the passion that had simmered just beneath the surface from the first moment they had met burst free---like the eruption of a volcano blowing its top when the pressure within, building and building, could no longer be contained. It rocked her to her toes. It excited her beyond bearing. And it scared her to death.
Despite the urgency, she could sense Luca holding onto the last threads of his control. 'I want to savour every part of you,' he mouthed against her skin as they fell to the bed.
True to his word, his hands and his mouth drove her to near insanity as he explored every part of her body, making her feel cherished for the first time in her life, treating her with such care, and overwhelming her with the intensity of his kisses and caresses, the sinful and inventive exploits of his hands and mouth. She explored in turn, revelling in the freedom to learn all the different textures and tastes of his body.
She froze when he touched her scar with his fingers. And when he traced it with his lips, bestowing the softest, sweetest kisses, it made her cry. He was so special, so caring, and despite not knowing its cause, he'd sensed its importance to her and without words was accepting it as part of her. As if he had all the time in the world, he kissed his way up to her navel and Polly gasped. She heard Luca chuckle as she squirmed against him, warm breath tickling her skin. She'd had no idea she was so sensitive there and was still savouring the sensations when his mouth reached one of her breasts. She cried out as lips, teeth and tongue tormented supersensitive flesh before drawing her nipple into his mouth and sucking strongly, making her sob at the almost unbearable pleasure as he rolled and teased her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
Her whole body was on fire and she needed him to fill the emptiness, to take away the terrible ache deep inside her, and she needed him to do it now. No more waiting. But he was holding back and Polly was worried it was because of the fears he had voiced. She slid her hands up his arms, feeling the tension in them as he supported his weight. Her fingers curled into taut biceps as she urged him to let go.
'Luca, please.'
'I don't want to hurt you.'
'You won't. I'm not going to break. I need you, need this.' She buried her face in his neck, nibbling and licking his skin, breathing in the intoxicating musky male scent of him. 'All of you. Now. Please...'
He groaned, and she felt the shudder run through him. Looking into his eyes, she saw the passion in them, the need, and she knew the moment he gave up the struggle for control. She knew a surge of excitement, a flicker of nervousness and a sense of feminine triumph, and then she couldn't think of anything at all but the new explosion of passion that swept them both away, whirling her into something more intimate and intense and extraordinary than she had ever imagined possible.
She welcomed the press of his body on hers and she arched up, seeking more, wrapping her legs around him, her cry mingling with his in reaction to the joyful intensity as their bodies became one with a single fluid motion. Her mouth met his in a searing kiss that stole what little breath she had left. Luca fisted the fingers of one hand in her hair, his other arm sliding under her hips to lock her to him.
It was as if their bodies recognised each other, were made for each other, moving in an age-old rhythm, immediate, demanding, out of control. Making love with Luca unleashed hidden, untapped depths of her own sensuality she had not known existed, but she threw herself into the moment, losing herself in the magical connection between them, meeting his demands and making demands of her own. They drove each other higher and higher. Polly never wanted this incredible experience to end, but she couldn't hold on any longer. She pleaded with him, her hands dragging at him as she tried to get ever closer, and they clung together as their pleasure crested, crying out as they spun together, freefalling into the abyss, the ecstasy indescribable.
Luca had taken her to paradise and, at that moment, she didn't care if she ever came back to earth again.
Days turned into weeks, and the end of summer morphed into a warm, wet autumn. While the bond between herself and Luca strengthened every day, and she was drawn ever more deeply into the d'Azzaro family, Polly became increasingly scared that she wasn't allowed to be this happy. Any time soon something would burst her bubble of joyful contentment and smash her back to earth with a bump.
Professionally, things had been hectic, Penhally Bay Surgery continuing to draw in new patients as the services offered expanded. The Saturday clinic for young people was busier than ever and Luca's help with the youngsters was invaluable. His presence also gave her confidence to tackle the cases she found most difficult...those of young people coming to her with issues that mirrored those she had faced in her own life.
Kate had returned to work at the beginning of the month and Polly was relieved to see the older woman regain her strength and vitality. Speculation was rife that Rob would ask Kate to marry him, but Polly remained silent. Kate had said nothing, but Polly suspected that her friend would want to wait until her hospital appointment in January when she would hopefully hear that the cancer had gone. The only discordant note was the ongoing tension between Kate and Nick, and Polly had no idea how that issue was ever going to be resolved.
Polly cherished the time she spent with Rosie and Toni, reading to them, teaching them to bake cookies and muffins, playing with them and enjoying their unbounded joy about the puppy. Little Jasper had been with them for almost two weeks now, a glossy black bundle of fun and mischief who had won all their hearts. The girls were wonderful with him, attentive and caring and determined to do as much for him themselves as they could.
Chloe's idea of a puppy crèche had proved invaluable. Dragan and Melinda had kept one puppy for themselves, a boy called Cocoa. Nick's niece, Charlotte, newly engaged to James, had taken a black boy called Dylan. Jem's puppy was called Bruno, Oliver and Chloe's Rolo, and Gabriel and Lauren's Monet, after Lauren's favourite painter. It was sometimes chaotic but always enjoyable and while serving to help the puppies to learn and grow, the shared experience was tightening the bonds of friendship between the humans, too.
As the end of October approached, Polly couldn't believe how much her life had changed---how much she had changed. It hadn't all been easy, but Luca had been beside her every step of the way as she had faced the remaining demons from her past, just as she had tried to be supportive of him as he had lain the final threads of Elaine's ghost to rest.
Sitting at her desk in her consulting room with a rare few moments alone, Polly stared out of the window as another shower fizzled out and the sky began to lighten. For the first time in four years she was coping with this time of year, able to face Halloween with her own personal horror less raw. Thanks to Luca. That amazing Sunday afternoon a month ago when they had first made love had been as memorable for the things they had talked about afterwards as for the extraordinary physical connection they had shared. Polly would never forget it...
'Whatever happens between us in the days and weeks ahead, I want you to know that I will never lie to you,' Luca had told her, cradling her in his arms. 'And I ask you to promise me the same.'
Polly had nodded, taken aback by the serious tone of his voice. 'OK.'
'It's important to me, Polly.'
'I can see that.' She had wondered why. 'What happened to make you feel so strongly about this?'
He had paused a moment, his smile fading, dark eyes filling with changing emotions, including pain and anger. His voice had been controlled when he had spoken, as if trying to cover the turmoil within him. 'Elaine wanted a baby so badly that she tricked me with the pregnancy and kept the truth from me about the risk to herself if she carried a baby to full term. She knew there was a high probability she would die, leaving me alone with an infant baby, but she didn't tell me until near the end, until there was no choice left for me. She said she was afraid I would have tried to change her mind. Of course I would. I loved her. The idea of a baby---at that point unknown and unformed---to me was not worth the risk of losing Elaine. Part of me is still angry with her---both for taking the decision alone, and for leaving me and the girls---and yet had she not done it Rosie and Toni would not be here. But how can you ask any man to make that kind of choice?'
'I don't know. You can't. You shouldn't have to. It was awful, but not your fault, Luca.' She had shifted position, hugging him, pressing kisses to the strong column of his throat. 'Elaine was very wrong to deceive you. Some might say she was selfish, knowing she might well be committing her child to life without a mother, not to mention the impact on you. Others might say it was the ultimate sacrifice---she wanted a baby with you so badly that she felt it worth that risk.'
His fingers in her hair, he tilted her head so he could meet her gaze, the pain in his eyes taking her breath away. 'I can't go through anything like that again, Polly. I know there is something about the girls that makes you sad when you look at them. Is it because of this?' he asked softly, the fingers of his free hand inexorably finding and tracing the line of her scar.
'Yes.'
Emotion welling inside her, Polly sucked in a ragged breath, knowing the time had come for her to step off the precipice and tell Luca everything, hoping he would catch her.
And so it all came pouring out. How, after a couple of short-lived and unsatisfactory dating experiences, she met Charles Atkinson as she neared the end of medical school. Two years her senior and a trainee surgeon, he was the first person, besides Kate, to show her any kind of affection and, looking back, she realised now that that had helped to skew her judgement.
'Charles was smart and good-looking, sophisticated, and a lot of the female staff vied for his attention. I couldn't believe it when he said he was interested in me,' she explained, a squeeze of pain tightening inside her as the old Plain Polly from Penhally taunt whispered through her mind. 'He was kind, patient, apparently prepared not to rush me into anything, and I lapped up the attention.'
'I'm not surprised after you had been starved of it for so long,' Luca soothed.
'Eventually we become lovers. He was the first person I'd been intimate with and while he didn't set my whole world on fire, I enjoyed being with him, and I was so caught up in the whole thing, surprised anyone might care about me, that I didn't realise how little I really knew about him.' She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. 'Charles was very ambitious and managed to land a much-coveted place on the team of a renowned surgeon on Harley Street. He had an almost obsessive zeal to succeed, and I thought he understood why my own career was important to me.'
Luca's fingers stroked her hair. 'But he didn't?'
'As it turned out, no, but I didn't see it then,' she confided with a frown.
'What happened?'
'To cut a long story short, we got married after I qualified. It was a very quiet, no-frills registry office wedding---neither of us had family, Kate couldn't come up to London at that time, and so there were just a couple of Charles's work friends as witnesses.' A shiver rippled through her as the memories returned. 'At first things were OK, then Charles began making comments about me giving up work and starting a family. We'd discussed it, and I'd told him I didn't want children, probably ever.' Her voice wavered and she hesitated, trying to get it back under control. 'I had this thing in my head that I was never going to pass on Reg's genes. I didn't want to one day look at my child and see him looking back at me.'
Luca tightened his hold and dropped a kiss on her forehead. 'I can understand that.' The sincerity in his voice reassured her.
'I wasn't unhappy that first year and I loved my work. The changes began gradually, insidiously. Little things at first. Almost unnoticeable. Charles started to criticise the way I looked, the way I kept the home, then he complained that I worked too much. His personality began to change, too, and he became impatient, tired and irritable. Nothing was right. He was drinking more and spending hours on the computer. He was secretive and angry when I questioned him, and he told me it was work and none of my business. I started to get scared, fearing Charles was showing some of the signs I'd known too well in Reg.
'Things got worse as the months progressed,' she continued, unconsciously snuggling into Luca, seeking comfort and security as she told him things she had never told anyone else. 'Charles became more critical, more inconsistent in his behaviour and more and more determined I give up work. He wanted to be the successful one and he was determined his wife should be at home, doing his bidding, making him look good. And, he said, his job was more important than mine. I refused and we argued all the time as he became increasingly controlling.'
Polly felt Luca tense. 'Did he hurt you?' he demanded roughly.
'Not physically. Not then...'
'Dio! Polly, what did he do?' Luca demanded, his concern for her giving her the strength to go on, to face the worst yet to come.
'We rarely made love any more, and I was glad, because when we did he was selfish, taking only what he wanted. I didn't know what to do. I'd taken my vows seriously, and the way he was wearing down my self-esteem was just like Reg, until I thought it must be my fault, that I wasn't good enough. At the beginning I'd agreed to a joint bank account, but soon he was using that to control me, to make sure I had to ask for any money I wanted. I thought of opening my own account and to switch having my salary paid into that, but Charles found the forms before I could finalise things and went mad. It was around then that Reg died. I didn't want anything from him, but I'd confided some of my problems to Kate, and when a firm of will hunters contacted her, Kate put them in touch with me. I was Reg's only heir. The value of the house was all that was left, and Kate persuaded me to swallow my pride and to take Reg's money, to put it in a safe place Charles knew nothing about in case I ever needed an escape route.'
'It was good advice.' Luca kissed her, his voice gentle. 'And then what happened?'
Polly closed her eyes, remembering. 'I discovered I was pregnant. I was shocked and upset, more so when Charles admitted he had deliberately tampered with my birth control. We rowed terribly for weeks, it seemed. The timing was wrong, I didn't want to bring a baby into our relationship the way it was. Charles continued to demand I do what he said, including giving up my career. Again I refused. My job was increasingly the only good thing in my life. And then...'
In the moments of silence that followed Polly felt the tension building inside her, and could feel every rapid thud of her heart against her ribs, not sure how to tell Luca the rest.
'And then?' he encouraged softly, his gentle understanding giving her the courage to go on.
'It was Halloween. I was six months pregnant. Charles was waiting for me when I came home from work. He was drunk, and there was a wildness in his eyes that scared me,' she told him, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, her body starting to shake. 'I'd hardly got inside the door when he came for me. He was screaming abuse, and he was waving a kitchen knife in his hand. I genuinely feared for my safety, and that of my baby. He chased me out of the house. There were people about, witnesses who later supported my version of events. Scared, I tried to get away. I ran into the street and... And,' she tried again, tears spilling from between her lashes, 'I was hit by a car.'
Luca swore long and hard in Italian, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close.
'I nearly died. My baby girl was already dead. The placental abruption and haemorrhaging were so bad that there was nothing else they could do. The only way to save my life was to do a hysterectomy---to take my baby and with her any chance I could ever have any more.'
'But you are alive. Dio grazie.'
'It didn't seem such a good deal in those early days. Charles came to the hospital, pretending to be a grieving husband, but then he went mad, accusing me of killing the baby and trying to attack me. Hospital Security restrained him and the police arrested him, the witness reports confirming what he had done on the day and, later, in the hospital. I was given protection and a restraining order stopping him coming near me. It all came out over the next weeks...his drinking, his addiction to poker on the internet, the vast amounts he had lost and now owed to various money-lenders, some more dodgy than others. He was clearly ill, and was committed for a time to a secure hospital. I was granted a divorce and chose to take my mother's maiden name. The house and everything we had went to settle Charles's debts. I had nothing---except, of course, the money from Reg's house that Kate had persuaded me to hide away. As much as I didn't want to touch it, tainted as it was, it was all I had and helped me to survive the weeks of recuperation until I could go back to work. Not at the same place. I couldn't face it, but I signed on for locum work while I decided what I wanted to do with my life.
'I hated London, felt insecure, as if I was looking over my shoulder, scared Charles might one day reappear. And there were the memories. So when Kate told me about the new job in Penhally, and persuaded me to return, it was like a new start, a new chapter.'
'You are amazing,' Luca whispered with admiration, nuzzling against her.
Polly shook her head. 'I'm not. I feel so guilty,' she confessed, tears sliding down her cheeks.
'What for?' Luca rested the palm of one hand over the physical scar that, four years on, was beginning to fade. The emotional ones still felt so raw. 'It was not your fault, zingarella.'
Polly sucked in a breath, scared Luca would hate her when he learned how selfish she had been. 'But I didn't intend to have children at all. When Charles tricked me and deliberately made me pregnant, at first I didn't want the baby. So when I lost her, it was as if I had made it happen, as if I had killed her, just like Charles said,' she sobbed.
Luca's hold tightened as he rolled them onto their sides, his free hand cupping her face and making her look at him. 'No! No, Polly, you did not kill your baby. Charles attacked you, you had no option but to escape him. It was an accident, tragic and terrible, but an accident,' he insisted, nothing but understanding and compassion in his eyes.
'I didn't want her to die.'
'I know, mio amore.' He brushed a kiss across her forehead. 'And I'm so sorry for your pain. We will never forget your little girl. Had you given her a name?'
Polly nodded, her thoughts in turmoil. 'I was going to call her Yvonne Katherine, after my mother and Kate. And she would have been born a week or so after the twins were. I look at Rosie and Toni, and at other children the same age, and I wonder what my daughter might have been like now. I never wanted children, yet once I had become used to the knowledge I was going to have a baby, I loved her completely, and I yearned in a way I had never imagined to be a mother. Not only did I lose her, but I can never have another child.'
Luca was incredible...understanding, supportive, reverential of her lost baby, caring and gentle with her. He dried her eyes and made love to her with exquisite tenderness, telling her again and again that she was special and beautiful, just as he had done every day since.
She was almost coming to believe him. Almost. Self-doubt remained, locked deep inside. After checking the notes for the home visits she was about to make, she rose to her feet. A shiver rippled through her. Why did she have an impending sense of doom?
'YOUR relationship with Polly is serious, is it?'
Nick's voice came from Luca's consulting room and, as she neared the open door, Polly hesitated, her heart in her mouth as she waited for Luca's response.
'Polly is perfect. The twins love her.'
Luca's phone rang, masking Nick's next question. Polly edged forward, but when Luca spoke again, she halted, rooted to the spot in shock.
'I have no regrets, Nick. I've tried always to do what felt right,' he said, an edge of reserve behind the polite tone. 'And, yes, I plan to ask Polly to marry me---soon.'
Glad she had remained out of sight, Polly pressed a hand to her mouth to smother her gasp of shock. Luca was thinking permanence? With her? Cinderella didn't get to marry Prince Charming, not outside fairy-tales. The ghost of Plain Polly hadn't been fully exorcised.
'I appreciate that, Nick, but there's no going back.' She must have missed more of the men's conversation as Luca's statement puzzled her. Worse followed. 'I knew what I was doing when I made the decision. I'd make any sacrifice necessary to ensure my daughters' happiness.'
Polly stepped back from the doorway, Luca's words pounding in her head. Was that what being with her was to him...a sacrifice? The twins liked her and needed a woman's touch, so Luca would make do? All her insecurities returned to torment her. She would never be good enough. She was too plain and unattractive to capture the heart of a man like Luca. The message was loud and clear. By marrying her, by sacrificing himself, he was providing for his children. That's what mattered to him.
Tears stung Polly's eyes as she hurried towards the exit, unresponsive to those who greeted her, including Kate. She had to get out before she broke down completely. Because hearing Luca's words had made her realise how much she loved him. She'd fought against it, knowing he was dangerous, but in a very short time he had demolished her defences and stolen her heart. And he didn't want it. Not for himself. All he wanted was a mother for his children and, as much as she loved Rosie and Toni, she knew that would never be enough.
Frowning, Kate watched Polly rush out of the surgery. Something was wrong. The young woman had definitely been upset, but whatever could have happened? Concerned, and making a mental note to talk to Polly later, Kate headed for the stairs, just in time to encounter Nick as he left Luca's consulting room.
'Ah, Kate...' His smile was awkward, the tension that had simmered between them since her return to work seeming to increase by the day. 'A word, if you have a moment?'
Time alone with Nick was to be avoided, but at work it was impossible. 'All right.' Footsteps heavy with reluctance, she followed to his room.
'I was talking to Luca about his plans for the future,' he told her, closing the door and waving her to a chair.
Was that the cause of Polly's upset? Had she overheard something bad enough to turn her face ashen and bring tears to her eyes? For now Kate tried to set Polly's situation aside, because she needed all her wits about her to maintain her guard with Nick.
'I'm hoping Luca and Polly will stay on and become junior partners in due time, as Oliver and Gabriel have done,' Nick continued. 'Things will become busier with the surgery expansion.'
Kate recognised the delaying tactic and wished he'd say why he'd wanted to speak with her. 'I'm sure the patients will appreciate the increased range of services.'
Having been involved in the practice since Nick and Marco Avanti had taken it over several years ago, Kate was proud of what had been achieved, and was excited for the future of the practice. It was a future in which she wanted to play a part but...She forced herself to look at Nick. Could she stay here if things between them failed to improve?
After everything that had happened, and all the times he had let her down and hurt her over Jem, why did her stupid heart still react to the sight and sound of him? Why was the right man wrong and the wrong man right? The question led her inexorably to Rob.
Dear Rob. He'd been wonderful to her throughout her ordeal, and he had embraced Jem, giving her son the male role model he so badly needed. She cared about Rob, deeply...but was that enough to sustain a permanent relationship? After their talk a few nights ago, she had three months to find an answer.
'I need to say this, Kate, so please hear me out,' Rob had begun, his voice unusually serious. 'I love you. I believe the four of us can be happy as a family unit. I know it's important for you not to make big decisions before seeing the oncologist in January, so I'm not going to ask before then,' he'd added, his smile endearing. 'But I want you to know I'd marry you tomorrow. My feelings and desire to be with you aren't dependent on the result. No...' He'd cupped her face, pressing one thumb to her lips. 'Please, don't say anything---just don't close your mind to the kind of life we could have.'
Kate had thought of Rob's words often in the last days. How could she not? Rob was a generous, giving and loving man who offered her and Jem stability and happiness. Accepting his proposal, when it came, would be the sensible and obvious thing to do. But---
'How are you getting on back at work, Kate?' Nick asked, redirecting her attention.
'I'm enjoying it,' she told him honestly. 'It's been a long time.'
He shifted, anxious and ill at ease. 'We've missed you. I've missed you,' he added, shocking her as much by the intimate tone of his voice as the words themselves.
'Nick---'
'I've had time to think these last months,' he continued, forestalling her protest. 'I've behaved badly to you and Jeremiah. I'm not excusing it, but finding out the truth was a shock, one I've yet to come to terms with.' He leaned forward, resting folded arms on the desk, the expression in his eyes sincere. 'We've been through a great deal you and I. I not only value you as a colleague, one who's been loyal and hardworking from the first, but also as a close friend and confidante.'
Tears stung her eyes. 'Thank you. I don't know what to say,' she murmured, unnerved by the electric atmosphere growing in the room.
'I want things to be different between us, Kate.'
'Different, how?' A mix of emotions welled within her, ranging from panic and confusion to hope and shock.
Nick's brow knotted in concentration. 'I regret the distance that's grown between us, the awkwardness and loss of friendship. And, yes,' he added, with a rare admission of his own failings, 'I've been responsible for that. But I have missed you, and I've hated being on the sidelines while you've been through your operation and treatment, worrying about you and wanting to be with you, to help.'
Again his words shocked her. Part of her wanted to remind him that he was the one who had distanced himself, who had made no effort whatsoever, and who had let her down when she'd asked for his reassurance about Jem's security should something happen during her operation, or afterwards. It had been Rob who had stepped up to the plate and shouldered everything. But what good would it do to rub that in now? Nick was making an effort, and it was what she had wanted for the last eighteen months, since Jem's real paternity had been made known to him.
'You and Rob...' Nick cleared his throat, lids lowering to shadow the expression in his eyes. 'Do you love him?'
'I'd say it wasn't your business, but I suppose it is, in part, because of how things may affect Jem. We have mentioned the possibility of marriage at some point, if that's what you want to know,' she told him, knowing she was embellishing the truth but watching him carefully to assess his reaction.
Sitting back in his chair, he steepled his hands under his chin, his gaze direct as he faced her, his tension and displeasure evident. 'I see. And do you think that's the best thing to do?'
'The best for whom? Me...or Jem?' she parried, hope turning to disappointment as she guessed the possible direction this was going. 'Rob treats Jem just the same as his own son, they've bonded well and Jem has really benefited from having a male influence in his life, not to mention the emotional support while I was ill.'
'I see,' Nick repeated, a muscle pulsing along his jaw. 'So there's no hope for us?'
'What sort of an "us" did you have in mind, Nick?' she enquired, her heart thudding as her tension and annoyance increased.
Looking uncomfortable, Nick sighed. 'I don't know. As I said, I miss you in my life in so many ways. I'd like us to regain what was lost---maybe to take things further.'
'And Jem? Where does he fit in?'
Pain lanced inside her as she read the answer in his eyes. Damn the man for doing this! And damn her heart for still wanting him, clinging to a hope and love that seemed as impossible now as it always had done. Anger and disappointment drove her to her feet.
'You're no closer to acknowledging Jem, are you? This isn't about us at all, is it, Nick? Your world has been rattled, I'm not there as I used to be, uncomplaining and reliable. You don't love me, I don't think you even want me. You just don't want someone else to have me or to have to watch as another man earns the love and respect and trust of a son you cannot bear to admit is yours.'
'Kate, please,' he appealed, also rising to his feet.
'No, Nick. We've been over this endlessly. You'll never accept Jem. You use your own children as an excuse,' she accused, moving towards the door and raising her chin in defiance. 'You're so busy worrying what Jack, Lucy and Edward might think of the fact that Jem was conceived that fateful night of the storm while their mother was still alive. But has it never occurred to you what they'll think now, when the truth comes out?' she demanded, one hand clinging to the doorhandle for much-needed support, her whole body shaking. 'And the truth will be known one day, Nick, as Jem grows older and the similarities between you become more obvious, people are going to notice and speculate. Your adult children are all wonderful, caring, decent people. How are they going to feel when they discover how you've shunned Jem and refused to accept him as your son?'
Kate made herself face him, seeing the anger, surprise and the touch of fear he couldn't hide. They were as far apart as ever and she hated that it hurt it so much. Unable to bear any more, she opened the door, praying for him to stop her but knowing he wouldn't. She closed it quietly behind her, leaving Nick to struggle with his demons while she tried, for the umpteenth time, to put the pieces of her heart back together.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. She wasn't going to let Nick do this to her any more and she had other people to think of rather than herself. With that in mind, an image of Polly's tearstained face returned to her, and she went in search of Luca---her own life might be far from settled, but at least she could hope for a happy ending for the young couple so precious to her.
A mix of relief, fear and confusion slammed in Luca's chest as he took the stairs two at a time and discovered Polly sitting on the bedroom floor, Jasper the puppy in her arms as she rocked back and forth, the evidence of tear-tracks on her pale cheeks. Thank God for Kate...again. When she'd popped into his consulting room earlier in the afternoon to tip him off about Polly's distress, he'd been desperate to go after her, but he'd had to wait until he'd finished his list, careful to not let his own worries affect the care he gave his patients.
And now he was here. And so was Polly. Thankfully, the twins were at a birthday party at the vicarage, which meant there was time alone to talk. He needed to find out what was wrong and, if Kate was correct, what snippet of his conversation with Nick Polly had overheard and had taken exception to. She looked up as he walked into the room and he managed a shaky smile.
'Hello, zingarella.' Although he wanted nothing more that to sweep her into his arms and make love to her, he sat on the edge of the bed, as close to her as possible, and prayed that whatever had gone wrong could be put right.
'Hi.'
Scared of doing or saying the wrong thing, Luca felt tense. 'What happened, mio amore? Something you overheard upset you?'
'Yes,' she whispered.
Unable to bear even this distance between them, Luca took a chance and slipped to his knees on the floor, edging closer and taking one of her hands in his. 'We made an agreement to always tell each other the truth, no matter what. I'll always be honest with you, Polly. Please, tell me what's wrong.'
'I can't be what you want me to be,' she finally said, confusing him even more.
'I don't understand.' He shook his head in puzzlement. 'I don't want you to be anything but yourself. You're perfect as you are.'
'As a mother for your children.'
The way she flung the words at him took him by surprise. 'I come as a package deal, you know that. I thought you liked the girls, were bonding with them.'
'I do. I am. But...' She broke off. 'It's not enough,' she continued, almost stopping his heart.
'Not enough?' Instinctively, he drew her hand towards him and held it over his rapidly beating heart. He swallowed, then forced himself to say the words. 'You do not care something for me also? You cannot find a way to come to love me, too?'
She was staring at him as if he had grown two heads. 'What are you talking about?'
'You said caring about the children was not enough.'
'It isn't,' she repeated, hurting him anew. 'Not long term. You told Nick you'd make any sacrifice for your daughters...like marrying me to give them a mother. I thought it was you who was just making do, who couldn't come to love or care for me.' Luca's mouth dropped open in shock, but she continued before he could correct her. 'I know I'm nothing like Elaine. She was beautiful and feminine. And I have nothing else to offer. I can't even give you children.'
As the words finished on a sob, Luca carefully removed Jasper from her lap, then pulled her into his arms, wanting to laugh and cry at one and the same time, angry and relieved all at once.
'No, no, no, you have it all wrong, amore mio,' he chided. 'How can you think that of me? Had I just wanted any woman as a mother for the girls, why would I have waited four years? I hadn't wanted anyone in my life, hadn't noticed another woman existed until the moment I stepped into your consulting room that first morning. Just looking at you was enough to bring me rushing out of hibernation. You brought me back to life, zingarella, a life I was living only for the twins. I didn't think I could ever have anything for myself again, that I would ever feel or hope or dream or love. You've given all that back to me, Polly. You brought light into the darkness. That the twins love you, too, is a bonus, but I would still want to spend the rest of my life with you even if I'd never had the twins. You made me realise there was a life for me, one I wanted to live again if I could share it with you.'
Tears squeezed between Polly's lashes and trickled down her cheeks. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop another sob escaping. Dear God, Luca meant it. He really meant every word he had said. She just had to believe, to allow herself to trust again---herself and him. Either she could stay alone, scared to reach out for what she most wanted, frightened to take another risk, or she could reach for her own dreams and embrace everything Luca was offering.
She'd left the surgery with every intention of packing her things and going back to the flat in Bridge Street. Her final house call had been to Gertrude Stanbury who, as ever, missed nothing and had demanded an explanation. By the time Polly had finished a tearful and somewhat disjointed account, her former headmistress had subjected her to the full force of her uncompromising grey gaze.
'Are you sure you are not looking for an excuse?'
'What do you mean?' Polly had asked, taken aback by the accusation.
'It is easier to blame something or someone else, to use that to back away, rather than to take the risk of being hurt again, of having to take responsibility for trusting your own judgement.'
Polly had wanted to deny the truth of the words.
'I've always admired your inner strength and your courage. Don't let them fail you now. You have another chance for real happiness, Polly---you mustn't be afraid to take it. That kind of love doesn't come around every day, so grasp it with both hands because you never know if and when you will get another chance.'
'But---'
'What if...two saddest words in the English language. Don't make the mistakes I did, Polly. You have so much courage. And no one deserves happiness more than you do. If you love Luca as much as I think you do, don't run off in the heat of the moment. Give him a chance to explain and find out the truth first. Follow your heart.'
Polly had returned to Keeper's Cottage with Ms Stanbury's words ringing in her ears and knowing she had two choices. Run away or wait for Luca. She'd imagined life without Luca and the girls and there had been no decision to make. And so she sat on the floor in the bedroom, Jasper's warm little body snuggled in her arms, fighting the inner demons that told her she wasn't good enough for a man like Luca, that Plain Polly from Penhally wasn't lovable.
And the gamble had been worth taking because Luca had come home and had laid his heart on the line. For her. Luca had lost Elaine and he was brave enough to try again, knowing life was uncertain. Whether she had one day, one year or a whole lifetime, she wanted to spend it all loving him. This, oh, so special man who made her feel, for the first time in her life, that maybe she was worth something and maybe she deserved to be happy and loved. It was a miracle in itself. And he had another miracle gift to give her, too. Having thought she had lost the chance of ever knowing the joy of motherhood, Luca was prepared to give her a precious gift...that of being a mother to his beautiful children.
'I love you so much, Luca,' she sobbed, and the naked happiness and relief in his deep brown eyes showed her what those words meant to him. 'I didn't believe I was worth loving.'
'I will prove to you every day just how much you are loved,' he vowed.
'I love you. I love Rosie and Toni...and I love Jasper.' She giggled as the mischievous puppy tried to push his way between them, stubby tail wagging happily.
If she had a tail, it would be wagging, too! She hadn't believed she could be this happy, could have so much in her life. Wrapping her arms around Luca's neck, she sank into his embrace, feeling safe for the first time, as if she had finally found her real home, the place she belonged. Penhally had brought her pain in the past but she had returned here to face it---in doing so she had found her future, one filled with love---with her sexy Italian and his adorable twins.
THE late January day was cold but a weak sun hung low in a pale blue sky sprinkled with off-white clouds. Most of the month had been wet and windy. Surely today's break in the weather was a good omen?
It was one of the happiest days of her life, Kate reflected, giving away her beloved goddaughter, who had known so much heartache in her young life, and watching her marry the man of her dreams in a simple but beautifully poignant ceremony in Penhally's small church.
Polly looked ethereal and beautiful, glowing with happiness as she and Luca pledged their vows to love, honour and cherish each other. And it was clear to all that they did. The handsome Italian with the loving, giving heart had worked a miracle, helping Polly to set her unhappy past behind her and sharing with her the hope and expectation for the future. A future that included Luca's most special gift---his twin girls. A gift of motherhood for Polly, something the young woman had never expected to know after the tragic loss of her unborn daughter.
'Don't they look adorable?' Chloe whispered.
Kate turned her head to smile at her friend and colleague beside her. 'They are as cute as anything!' Kate agreed.
She and Chloe turned as one to watch Rosie and Toni perform their roles as flower girls and ring bearers, the beaming smiles on their faces a testament to their delight at having Polly as their new mother. Today was definitely a day for joy and celebration.
Yesterday had been, too. Kate had yet to fully grasp the relief that had swamped her when Dr Bowers, her oncologist, had told her that the cancer had gone. No one knew what the future held, but for now, at least, her own was brighter and fuller. But not uncomplicated, she allowed, all too conscious of Rob sitting on her other side.
Any day Rob might ask her to marry him and, despite all her thinking, she was no closer to an answer. Her gaze strayed across the narrow aisle to Nick. The wrong man in so many ways and yet, despite all that had passed between them and all the pain he had caused her, still the man that her stupid heart yearned for. Unless Nick could acknowledge and embrace Jem wholeheartedly, there could be no future for them. And she couldn't wait for ever for that miracle to happen.
Kate dragged her gaze from the man who had, over the years, been friend, confidant, boss, colleague and one-night lover, refocusing her gaze on Polly, determined to put thoughts of her own future aside while she celebrated her goddaughter's special day.
'I can now declare you husband and wife,' Rev Saunders announced with a smile. 'You may kiss your bride.'
Polly turned to Luca, seeing the love in his eyes. Their gazes locked. Their mouths met. And they sealed their bond. The fingers of one hand were linked with his, while the fingers of her other held a tiny one belonging to Rosie. And with Toni's held by her father, the four of them were united as a family.
As they walked together down the aisle, Polly had a lump in her throat as she met and returned the smiles of those who had gathered to celebrate this day with them. Kate, who had done so much for her all her life and who had made this day all the better with two treasured gifts...the news that she was cancer free, and an album filled with copies of photographs she had unearthed in her attic of the mother Polly had loved and lost and had never expected to visualise again.
Jane and Brian Watson, though frail, had been determined to attend and give their blessing. Their generosity in accepting her role in the lives of Luca and their granddaughters made Polly's heart swell with gratitude. She could assure them that Elaine would never be forgotten, having given life to the twins at the expense of her own.
Nick was there, an excellent doctor and a good boss, but a man who needed to make peace with himself. Gertrude Stanbury's presence brought another smile to Polly's face. She owed her old headmistress a great deal, not just for her help when she'd been young but for her advice last autumn not to be afraid to take risks again. Next came Georgie and her husband Luka, the couple becoming good friends these last months, as well as satisfying the twins' enthusiasm for all things pony!
The rest of the places were filled by colleagues who had become good friends and who did much to make Penhally the special place it was...Oliver and Chloe, Gabriel and Lauren, Dragan and Melinda, and Sam and Gemma, herself expecting their first baby in March. Even Charlotte and James had come, bonded through voluntary work with Charlotte's rape crisis centre---and by puppies!
Polly felt as if she was floating on a cloud of happiness. She was scarcely aware of the photographs being taken and she couldn't remember who she'd spoken to. All she was aware of was Luca, and she welcomed the few moments they were able to be alone as everyone travelled up the hill to Smuggler's for a buffet lunch, one that included a sinfully gorgeous white chocolate and raspberry cake. It was a sign of how far she had come in dealing with her food issues, thanks to Luca, that Polly intended to eat a huge piece of that cake in public and enjoy every moment of it!
'Happy?' Luca asked as they lingered a moment before getting out of the car.
'Not really,' she murmured, feeling guilty for teasing him when she saw the panic and hurt in his deep brown eyes. 'Happy doesn't even begin to cover the extent of my euphoria!'
She giggled as his fingers cupped her chin, the sexy, smouldering expression on his face fanning the fires of desire that constantly burned within her. 'Oh, you're in so much trouble now, zingarella,' he warned her, the husky rumble of his voice sending a delicious shiver down her spine.
'I do hope so! And, Luca, you never did tell me what zingarella means,' she reminded him with a mock pout. 'Surely today of all days...'
His slow-burn smile brought a dimple to his cheek and made her warm all over. 'It came to me as soon as I met you, with your unique style of clothes. Just one of the many, many things I love about you, little gypsy,' he whispered, his fingers stroking her cheek before he leaned in for an all-too-short but passionate kiss.
A knock on the car window ended their brief moment alone and despite planning it and looking forward to it, Polly now wished they could skip the buffet entirely.
'It will soon be over,' Luca murmured in her ear, accurately guessing the direction of her thoughts. 'And anticipation heightens the pleasure, no?' he added with a naughty smile. 'Do not worry, mio amore, I will make the wait worth your while.'
As if such a promise was going to achieve anything but raise her pulse and her blood pressure and make her even more impatient!
Rosie and Toni stayed close to them through the buffet, and Polly once more gave thanks for the gift Luca had given her, sharing with her these precious children. At times she still grieved for her own lost daughter, but Luca's understanding eased the ache. And to prove to her that Yvonne Katherine would never be forgotten as a much-missed part of their family, he'd taken her completely by surprise by having the names tattooed under those of the twins' over his heart. The gesture had made her cry, and had provided yet more evidence of how special this man was.
It felt hours later before things began to wind down. The twins were staying with Kate, Rob, the boys and puppies Bruno and Jasper. So much a part of them, it had been a difficult decision, but they'd ruled out a full honeymoon and so wanted this one weekend alone to savour the reality of their marriage.
And now it was time to go. Polly looked round and saw the twins approaching their father, hands fisting in the material of his trousers to claim his attention. Smiling, he hunkered down to meet them face to face, listening as they whispered to him in Italian. Polly heard the words but couldn't understand what they were saying. Her breath stuttered as Luca looked up and caught her gaze, allowing her to see the moisture filming his eyes. He returned his attention to the girls and, nodding his head, he gave them a gentle nudge towards her.
Rosie and Toni approached her where she sat, stuffed on cake and dazed with happiness. 'Hello, darlings,' she greeted them as they arrived one on either side of her. 'You look so beautiful and never have there been better flower girls or ring bearers,' she praised, earning huge grins.
'We want to ask you something,' Rosie said, reaching out to hold Toni's hand. 'Today's special, isn't it? We really become a proper family?'
'That's right.' Polly's throat felt tight with emotion.
'Well...'
Rosie hesitated and Toni frowned. 'Go on, Rosie. Papà said to ask her.'
'OK.'
Polly looked down into two pairs of brown eyes, so like their father's. 'What is it?'
'Toni and me want...' Rosie began, clearly nervous, so Polly didn't correct her grammar. 'Please can we call you Mummy?'
Their faces swam before her as her eyes filled with tears. Speechless, fearing her heart would burst, Polly gathered them to her and hugged them tight. 'Yes, darlings, if you want to, I'd be very happy,' she finally managed, her voice choked with emotion.
'We definitely want to,' Toni asserted, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Rosie kissed her other cheek. 'We love you, Mummy Polly.'
'I love you, too. Both of you. So very much.'
Polly stood with them still in her arms as Luca joined them, his arms wrapping around them and binding them as a family. Somehow, Plain Polly from Penhally had fought off the darkness and had emerged into the light. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure this dream was true, but she had her hands full---full of love and hope and joy in the shape of the Italian husband she adored and the twins she would be proud to mother. The four of them together...a family for ever.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
THE REBEL OF PENHALLY BAY © Harlequin Books S.A. 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
Special thanks and acknowledgement are given to Caroline Anderson for her contribution to the BRIDES OF PENHALLY BAY series.
SPANISH DOCTOR, PREGNANT MIDWIFE © Harlequin Books S.A. 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
Special thanks and acknowledgement are given to Anne Fraser for her contribution to the BRIDES OF PENHALLY BAY series.
FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE © Harlequin Books S.A. 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
Special thanks and acknowledgement are given to Pamela Brooks for her contribution to the BRIDES OF PENHALLY BAY series.
A MOTHER FOR THE ITALIAN'S TWINS © Harlequin Books S.A. 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
Special thanks and acknowledgement are given to Margaret McDonagh for her contribution to the BRIDES OF PENHALLY BAY series.
ISBN: 978-1-408-91490-8
Table of Contents
Falling for the Playboy Millionaire
A Mother for the Italian's Twins

