Читать книгу With Love From Cape Town - Joss Wood - Страница 14

‘YOU’RE cutting it a little fine, aren’t you?’ Niall said the next evening, glancing at his watch.

Robina had almost forgotten about the charity dinner she had promised to attend. Although it was the last thing she felt like doing, she knew they were expected. She had been called in to work for an unexpected meeting and still hadn’t managed to speak to Niall about the promise she had made to Ella.

‘I can get ready in half an hour if need be. Ella will be in bed before then. Won’t you, darling?’

Niall scooped his daughter into his arms and tickled her until Ella was shrieking with laughter.

Robina watched them for a few moments with an ache in her heart. ‘I’ll start running the bath, shall I?’

As she switched on the taps in the bathroom that had once been Mairead’s, her thoughts turned, as they inevitably did, to her loveless marriage. At least loveless as far as Niall was concerned, she mused, but how did she feel? She had loved him once, loved him so much that she’d thought she’d burst with it. She’d been so happy, never suspecting for one minute how easily it would all come crashing down about her.

Hearing footsteps behind her and the deep growl of Niall’s voice as he teased his daughter, Robina blinked furiously lest he see the moisture in her eyes. She couldn’t bear him to know that she still cared. All she had left was her pride and she was damned if she would let him take that too.

Niall strode into the bathroom and deposited his giggling daughter gently on the bathroom floor.

‘I’ll leave you to it while I get changed,’ he said. Robina ached, knowing that he couldn’t bear to be in close proximity to her. ‘I suppose I have to come?’ he added. ‘Couldn’t you ask someone else to accompany you? I have something I’d really prefer to be doing this evening.’

‘Of course I can’t force you to come,’ Robina said between stiff lips. ‘But you know the press will have a field day if you don’t. They’d like nothing better than to sense trouble between the author of How to keep your man happy—in bed and out of it and her husband.’ How bloody ironic it all was.

It seemed as if the irony wasn’t lost on Niall either. His lips twitched in a half-smile as he looked at Robina, his eyes glinting. To her mortification, she felt her face burn. Was he remembering how good it had been? Her book had been written from memory, it was true, but only because every moment of their love-making was burnt into her brain. She could remember every touch of his lips, the feel of his hands on her skin, the way they couldn’t get enough of each other, and the memories tortured her. Her heart thumped as he held her gaze and something flickered in his eyes. If only he would tell her he still loved her, then sweep her into his arms and take her to his bed, perhaps they could find a way back to each other again. She knew he still wanted her as much as she wanted him. But what good was sexual attraction, however intense, without love? She shook her head slightly.

Niall gave her one last lingering look before he turned and walked away.

‘Dr Zondi and Dr Ferguson, could you look this way, please?’

Cameras flashed in a maelstrom of light and noise. Robina supposed she should be used to it by now. But the speed with which her career had taken off and the media interest had taken her by surprise. She had gone from being a GP to a best-selling author and presenter of Life In Focus all within a few months, and her head still reeled. Never in a million years would she have imagined the life she found herself living. But for all its glamour and wealth and adulation, Robina knew she would have traded it all in a heartbeat for the life she had envisaged when she had fallen in love with Niall.

She sneaked a sideways glance at her husband. Although he hated these functions, no one except her would be able to tell. He cut a devastatingly handsome figure in his tux. Tall, dark-haired and incredibly goodlooking, the media loved him. As a couple they were portrayed as Mr and Mrs Perfect. If only people knew the truth, Robina thought bitterly. They were as far away from perfect as was possible.

Niall took her elbow and steered her through the photographers and into the hall. As Robina had expected, it was filled with a veritable who’s who from the TV world. Instantly they were surrounded, and Robina felt a pang as Niall moved away, leaving her to talk with the presenter of one of TV’s most popular chat shows.

‘Ah, Dr Zondi,’ the presenter, a grey-haired distinguished-looking man in his early fifties, was saying. ‘I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. I would love it if you would do a slot on my show as one of the celebrities.’

Robina nodded distractedly, watching Niall from the corner of her eye as he was cornered by a journalist from one of the national newspapers. Niall had recently published a paper on a new treatment for infertility, which was causing quite a stir. She watched him bend his head to listen to what the journalist was saying, before he threw his head back and laughed. Whatever his feelings about events like this, he would play his part. Robina knew he would never do anything to embarrass her publicly. She felt the familiar stab of regret. Once she had made him laugh like that. Robina swallowed a sigh, before turning her attention back to the presenter, who was still speaking. She was on duty, and for the time being, at least, would forget about the mockery that was her private life.

‘You want me to talk about the documentary I’m doing?’ she asked.

The presenter frowned. ‘Documentary? No, not really. People are interested in Dr Zondi the woman. Especially your new book. They know about the doctor, now they want to know what makes the woman tick.’

Robina shook her head. ‘I don’t do chat shows,’ she said dismissively.

‘Of course you do.’ Richard Christchurch laughed. ‘You have your own show every week.’

‘That’s different,’ Robina insisted. ‘That’s not about me.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Richard raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s not a chat show,’ Robina persisted. ‘It’s a chance for patients to talk about their medical problems and get some answers. And for viewers to get information. They come on and talk about how illness affects their lives and what help they have found. It’s not entertainment!’

‘Isn’t everything on TV entertainment?’ Richard continued. ‘But if, as you say, your programme is more of a public service, then you appearing on my show can only help get information to the public.’

Robina still wasn’t sure. She didn’t altogether trust Richard Christchurch as he had a reputation for taking cheap swipes at his guests. On the other hand, he was right. If she appeared on his show, it would help raise public awareness about her own show. And that was good. Wasn’t it?’

‘I’ll need to speak to my agent,’ she hedged. ‘But I don’t know if I’ll have the time. I’m in the middle of this documentary, and my own programme returns in a couple of months. And somewhere in between I have to find time to promote my latest book—at least my agent tells me I have to.’

Richard smiled. ‘Of course. It was only a thought, but I’ll get my agent to speak to yours, shall I? In the meantime, perhaps you want to discuss it with your husband?’

Discuss it with Niall? Who was he kidding? Niall was the last person she’d be discussing it with. She glanced across the room to find her husband’s eyes on her. He was too far away for her to read his expression, but as their eyes held, she felt her heart thump against her ribs. There had been a time when their eyes would have met across the room and she would have known exactly what he was thinking. That he wanted to leave, so he could make love to her. At one time, they couldn’t get enough of each other. At one time no words had been necessary.

At dinner, she and Niall were placed at different sides of the table and she was thankful that they wouldn’t have to pretend to everyone to be wrapped up in each other. Throughout the seemingly endless meal she would look up from conversations she was having with the guests on either side to find Niall’s unfathomable eyes on her. Whenever he caught her eye he would smile dutifully and she would grin back as if her heart wasn’t breaking.

After the main course, the band struck up and Niall got to his feet, came over to her side, and held out a hand to her.

‘Shall we, darling?’ he drawled. As usual he was playing the attentive husband role and if he had a sardonic look in his cool blue eyes, only Robina saw it.

Conscious of several pairs of eyes on them, she let him whirl her around the dance floor. His hand was low on her back as he guided her and she could feel his fingers on her bare skin, burning into her. The movement of the dance brought her body tight against his and she let her body melt into him, taking the opportunity to let herself believe, even for a few minutes, that they were a normal couple, still in love.

Her head only reached as far as his shoulder, and she rested her head against the rough material of his suit, breathing in the scent of soap and the faint smell of his aftershave.

‘What did Richard Christchurch want?’ he murmured into her ear, his breath like a caress.

‘He wants me to appear on his show.’ She smiled up at him, conscious that people would be watching.

‘And will you?’ He frowned. ‘Be careful, Robina. He’s a snake.’

The concern in his voice was unexpected. ‘I can look after myself,’ she responded lightly.

Niall’s answer was to pull her closer and Robina let herself relax into his arms, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her, even if it was all for show. All too soon the music ended and they returned to their seats.

The evening was almost over when Robina heard a commotion coming from the rear of the room. Looking across, she noticed several people had jumped out of their seats and were standing about in confusion.

She glanced across at Niall. The noise had attracted his attention too.

‘Someone call an ambulance.’ The voice cutting across the room was shrill, panic not far away.

Wordlessly, she and Niall were on their feet moving swiftly across the room. As the crowd parted, Robina’s heart missed a beat. On the floor lay a middle-aged man, his face grey and his lips tinged with blue. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Immediately Niall took command of the situation. Squatting beside the stricken man, he loosened his tie and felt for a pulse.

‘What happened?’ he asked the woman who had cried out.

‘Bill…my husband…he said he had indigestion earlier. He took something for it, but then all of a sudden he said the pain was getting worse and he would go to the bathroom. But when he stood he clutched his chest and just dropped to the floor.’ The woman’s teeth were chattering with shock. Niall looked at Robina.

‘No pulse. We need to start CPR.’

‘Call an ambulance,’ Robina told one of the bystanders. ‘Tell them we have a cardiac arrest.’ In the same breath she dropped to Niall’s side. Aware of the eyes of the room on her and the flash of cameras, she shut them out of her mind. First and foremost she was a doctor and this man needed their help. It had been some time since she had done any clinical practice and she was hugely relieved that Niall was with her. She knew that, as a practising clinician, he was required to keep his resus skills up to date.

He was pressing on the stricken man’s chest, counting off the beats under his breath. She waited for him to count to thirty before she bent over the stricken man and, taking a deep breath, tipped his head back and blew twice into his mouth.

The room was deathly quiet as she and Niall worked together, completely in synch as they once had been in everything. As long as they could keep blood circulating in his system until the ambulance arrived, the man had a chance. They worked silently, until after a couple of minutes the man coughed.

‘I’ve got a pulse,’ Niall said. He looked at her and grinned. Robina’s heart rate escalated further. With his help she turned Bill onto his side, into the recovery position. There was little they could do now until the ambulance arrived, but it looked as if Bill would make it.

‘Is he all right?’ his wife was asking frantically. ‘Please tell me he’s going to be okay.’

Robina stood, easing the stiffness from her legs. ‘It’s early days yet, but he’s breathing on his own now. And that’s good. The paramedics will be able to give him something when they arrive, and the sooner he gets to the hospital the better.’

‘Oh, thank God. Thank you. Thank you.’ The woman dropped to her knees and cradled her husband’s head in her lap. She looked up at Robina, her eyes wet. ‘Thank you, Dr Zondi. You’ve saved his life.’

Robina was embarrassed. ‘It’s Dr Ferguson you have to thank,’ she said. But as she smiled into Niall’s eyes she was dismayed to find the shutters had come back down and he looked as distant as he always did these days.

The doors swung open as the paramedics rushed into the room, carrying a portable defibrillator and medical supplies. Robina stepped back, knowing that Bill was in safe hands. She turned to look at Niall, but he had already turned away and was striding away from her. She bit down on her disappointment as the cameras continued to flash.

‘Please,’ she said, suddenly furious. ‘Give this man and his wife some privacy, can’t you? This isn’t a live TV show, for goodness’ sake.’

Chastised, the photographers lowered their cameras and stood about looking shamefaced.

The paramedics lifted Bill onto the stretcher and moved briskly towards the exit, Bill’s wife following closely behind. As they left, the photographers picked up their cameras again and focussed on Robina, the flashes blinding her.

She had to get out of there. She whirled around, trying to remember what she had done with her coat, and then Niall was by her side, holding it out for her to slip her arms into.

‘I think my wife has earned the right to some privacy, don’t you?’ he told the reporters. His tone was even, but Robina could hear the suppressed fury behind the words. He would hate the way the man’s heart attack had turned into a circus. All because she was there, and everything she did was newsworthy. Robina had no doubt that her picture would be splashed all over the morning’s newspaper. It was one thing not to have any privacy, it came with the territory after all, but quite another for photos of the unconscious man to make the news. She felt Niall’s hand on her elbow and then she was being steered out of the room and into their waiting car.

Inside the safety of their limousine, Robina felt the adrenaline seep out of her body. Uncomfortably aware of the length of the hard muscles of his thigh against her leg, she shifted slightly in her seat, wanting to put some distance between them. Despite the tumult of different emotions she felt towards him, he still had the power to send her senses into overdrive. Tonight, working with him over that poor man, she had remembered why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. He was a good man, a kind man. Couldn’t they try to put the past behind them and move on? Try to be friends at least? It had taken little steps to destroy their marriage—could little steps take them back?

She reached for his hand as she prepared the words in her head.

Niall brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, the feel of his lips sending shock waves through her body. But then, his eyes glinting in the semi-darkness, he took her hand and replaced it in her lap with a little pat, as if she were a child.

‘Well done, darling,’ he drawled. ‘Another opportunity to get your name in the press. You must be delighted.’

She glared at him. Every time she thought she was softening towards him, he would do, or say, something that would cause her to clench her fists in fury. How was it possible to lust after your husband, even though you weren’t even sure you liked him? And what kind of woman did that make her? In that respect she was just like him.

‘Yes,’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘How very clever of me to arrange for that man to have a cardiac arrest. Just for another photo opportunity. God, Niall, what kind of person do you take me for?’

‘A woman who would do anything to promote her career.’ His voice was gentle, almost caressing. ‘As we both know very well.’

Stunned, she edged even further away from him. ‘At least you know now who you married—just as I know the kind of man I married.’ Why had she thought even for a minute they could be friends when clearly he despised everything about her? It seemed the only way she could save her marriage was by giving up work and becoming some sort of earth mother. And there was no chance of that.

Niall closed his eyes as they sped towards home.

Why had he said that? It was grossly unfair and he knew it. But she got under his skin. When he had seen her dressed in a gown of simmering bronze that fell to her feet, her short black hair highlighting that impossibly beautiful face, the diamonds he had given her as a wedding present sparkling at the base of her long neck, she had taken his breath away.

He had needed every ounce of self-control he could muster to stop himself from picking her up and carrying her off to…to where? His bedroom? Hers? And there it was. She hadn’t spent a night in his bed since the night they’d argued before the miscarriage. She had made it perfectly clear that she couldn’t bear him to touch her. He had tried to be patient, hoping she just needed time. He smothered a groan, thinking back to the night he had gone into the room they had once shared, thinking—hoping—they could comfort each other. But when he had reached out for her, she had recoiled and the look of fear in her eyes had shocked him. He clenched his teeth, pushing away the bewilderment and pain of her rejection. Although he had known it would take time for her to recover from the miscarriage, that had gone deeper. He was sure of it. It was almost as if she hated him. Every day she had drawn further and further away from him, throwing herself back into her work. If he’d hoped that with time she would come round, he had been badly mistaken. All that time had done was to drive a wedge between them. A wedge the size of the Grand Canyon. And as far as he could see, there was no way across.