Читать книгу Wedding Bells For The Village Nurse - Abigail Gordon - Страница 8

WHEN Jenna Balfour looked out of the window of the taxi as it cruised along the coast road on a Sunday afternoon in midsummer it was there down below, beautiful and changeless. A strip of golden sand where Atlantic breakers, white edged and powerful, forever staked their claim, and today, as was often the case, surfers were there to challenge them with boards at the ready.

It had been her favourite place while she’d been growing up and nothing had changed while she’d been studying nursing at a London college. Every time she’d been home on vacation she’d gone down to the beach to surf within minutes of arriving home.

But all that had changed. She hadn’t seen the house on the headland where she’d been brought up and the beach below for two years—ever since she’d insisted she wanted some time out to see the world before falling in with her mother’s wishes for her to join the local practice that Barbara Balfour ran with brisk efficiency.

Her father had understood how Jenna had felt. A retired solicitor who’d had a practice in the nearby town, he was easy to talk to and treated his bubbly only daughter, who had eyes blue as the sea below and hair the colour of corn at harvest time, with a whimsical affection.

Her mother rarely had time for family discussions and preferred results to rhetoric. Both father and daughter had cause to think that the practice came first, family second, with her, and for the main part they accepted it in the knowledge that Barbara Balfour was held in high esteem by patients and staff alike.

Eventually there had been a row, a big one, with Keith Balfour in the middle trying to keep the peace between the wife and daughter he loved, but it hadn’t worked and Jenna had gone to follow her dream in angry rebellion instead of with her mother’s blessing.

She’d regretted it as soon as she’d gone, but her mother wasn’t the only one with a mind of her own and she’d stayed away until the day that a phone call from her father had wiped out all the anger and she’d found herself getting an early flight home from the French town where she’d been doing some bank nursing.

He’d sometimes rung her for a chat, but his tone on that occasion had been serious, and she’d listened to what he had to say in shocked amazement. Her mother had been forced to take early retirement from the practice that was her life’s blood because of severe rheumatoid arthritis.

‘She needs two sticks to get around and it is difficult because her hands are so swollen. Sometimes we use a wheelchair,’ he’d said.

There had been silence while Jenna had digested that and then she’d said slowly, ‘Was this coming on when Mum was so keen for me to join the practice as soon as I’d qualified?’

‘She’d seen a rheumatologist, yes, but wasn’t expecting such a fast deterioration and now in spite of the fact that you quarrelled she needs you, Jenna, though she won’t admit it.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she’d said immediately, thinking tearfully that her mother being the needy one would be a first. ‘Give me a couple of days to sort things out at this end and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

‘Shall I tell your mother you’re coming?’

‘It’s up to you, Dad. Do what you think best. She’s never been keen on surprises, you know.’

‘She’ll like this one,’ he’d promised reassuringly, and that had been it.

And now in a few moments she would be back in the place that was so dear to her heart. The countries she’d visited had been interesting. She wouldn’t have wanted to miss the experience, but the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side of the fence, she’d found. It had been more a case of her wanting to stretch her wings a little before returning to her beloved Devon.

There was no car on the drive when the taxi turned onto it and her heart missed a beat. Her dad knew she was coming even if her mother didn’t, so where were they?

As she put her key in the lock of a front door that had weathered many a storm in its exposed position, the phone rang and when she picked it up her father’s voice came over the line in a whisper.

‘Ah, Jenna, you’ve arrived,’ he breathed. ‘I haven’t told your mother you’re coming home. I wanted it to be a complete surprise. When she suggested that we drive out into the countryside for a cream tea this afternoon I couldn’t very well drop it on her at the last moment, knowing what a stickler she is for everything being cut and dried.

‘We are in the tearooms now, waiting to be served. It’s quite a long drive back, so it could be a couple of hours before we return, but it will at least give you time to get settled before the two of you meet.’

‘Er yes, I suppose so,’ she said weakly into the anticlimax. ‘I’ll see you later, but what do we do if Mum doesn’t want the joyful reunion bit?’

‘I suggest we worry about that when it happens’ were his parting words.

It had taken just a matter of minutes to make herself a coffee and a sandwich, then she went upstairs to unpack. As she crossed the landing the door of her parents’ bedroom was open and they were all there, the aids to mobility that were the lifesavers of those who had very little of it.

How could it all have changed so suddenly? she thought dejectedly. Her mother had always seemed invincible, nothing ever pierced her armour of capability, but something had, a creeping painful illness that was attacking her freedom of movement and the amazing energy she’d always had.

In her own room, overlooking rocky cliffs that descended to the seashore, there was comfort to be had. It was exactly as she’d left it, with her surfboard propped up in the corner, and as she stroked it lovingly it seemed to be just the thing to take away the hurt of arriving to an empty house with so much worry on her mind.

A summer sun was beating down and the sea was so blue she gave in to temptation. Deciding there was no need for a wetsuit, she fished out a bikini and once she’d changed into it tucked a towel under her arm. With sandals on her feet she picked up the surfboard and after locking the door behind her began to walk down the road that led to the beach.

She usually clambered over the rocks as a more speedy way of descending but today, wanting to savour every moment of her return, she used the slower and more sedate pathway.

‘Hi, Jenna, where’ve you been?’ a male voice cried as she hit the beach. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages.’

It was Ronnie, one of the lifeguards out on patrol, and as he came loping across she laughed up at him, the reason for her being there forgotten in the pleasure of the moment.

He was a muscular thirty-six-year-old, married with a wife and children he adored, living in a cottage at the other side of the bay, and always had a cheery greeting for Dr Balfour’s daughter when she came surfing.

‘I’ve been taking some time out,’ she told him, ‘and am now back for good.’

‘Great!’ he enthused. ‘We’ve been short of glamour on the beach since you went.’

‘Yes, I’ll bet,’ she joked, ‘and where is everyone on a sunny day in the height of the holiday season?’

She’d seen a few surfers in the water when she’d been looking through the window of the taxi, but now there was only one and he was on the point of coming out, carrying his board as he strode towards them.

‘They’ve all gone to the opening of a new theme park not far away,’ he replied, ‘or disappeared earlier on fishing trips.’

Out of the corner of her eye Jenna saw that the man who had just come striding out of the surf had stopped beside a folded towel and was now drying himself briskly. As she observed him she thought with a body like that he put Ronnie’s bronzed biceps in the shade.

He was half-turned away from them and she registered a thatch of dark hair, flat and glistening wet against his head, and hands with long supple fingers holding the towel. The vivid scar that she’d noticed across his chest as he’d moved in their direction was no longer visible, but there had been time for her nurse’s practised eye to observe that it was red and jagged as if from a recent injury.

‘Not good about your ma, is it?’ Ronnie was saying sympathetically.

‘No,’ she replied glumly, taking her glance off the man with the scar and feeling that until she’d seen her mother for herself she didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Cheer up, Jenna,’ the amiable lifeguard said, sensing a drop in spirits. ‘How about a kiss to celebrate your return?’

She was smiling again. Ronnie was a tease. ‘You’ll have to get down on your knees and beg,’ she told him.

He obeyed with a bellow of laughter and, planting a butterfly kiss on the top of his head, Jenna left him there and began to move towards the water.

The solitary surfer had finished drying himself and as he turned to pick up his board they almost collided as they came face to face.

‘Sorry,’ he said abruptly.

‘It’s OK,’ she told him easily, meeting the dark hazel gaze that was also part of the package with a sudden feeling of breathlessness and weakness of the knees.

He would be a tourist, she could bet on it, she was deciding, while at the same time registering that there was no responding cordiality in his expression. So with that thought in mind she sidestepped him and proceeded towards a joyful reunion with the pounding Atlantic breakers.

When she turned he’d gone and so had Ronnie. She had the beach to herself and in a moment of wild joy Jenna walked into the oncoming tide with surfboard at the ready.

She could have stayed there for ever, but a glance at her watch said that soon her parents would be back and the moment she was dreading would be upon her.

Had the young blonde in the bikini been the Balfours’ prodigal daughter? Lucas Devereux pondered as, with feet slapping wetly against the stone of an old causeway, he walked to where he’d parked his car.

He’d heard the lifeguard greet her and the name had fitted, as had the flippancy she’d displayed. He’d wondered a few times how a daughter could leave her mother in the state that she had been in during her last months as head of the practice and flounce off to do her own thing.

Keith had been there for Barbara, of course, and he was much easier to get on with than his wife. She was a very strong character, while all her husband asked for was peace, and from what he’d heard the man didn’t get much of that.

They’d met the other day in the post office and the retired solicitor had told him that their daughter was coming home, that it was going to be a surprise for her ailing mother, and he would be obliged if Lucas didn’t mention it to anyone else.

He’d replied grimly that being involved in the affairs of others was not his forte, far from it, and that no one was going to get to know of Jenna Balfour’s return from him. No doubt if it had been her on the beach they would find out soon enough. In the close community of Bluebell Cove news got around faster than the speed of light.

As he drove inland from the beach the whitewashed wall of The Tides practice loomed up in front of him with its tubs of summer flowers at the entrance and a long wooden bench for those who preferred to wait their turn outside—weather permitting.

When he’d been discharged from the hospital where he’d been employed ever since qualifying and had ended up as a patient after an incident that had almost cost him his life, he had been persuaded by his friend Ethan Lomax to move into community health care work for a while in a coastal suburb of Devon that was blessed with golden sands and backed on to fertile countryside.

On doing so, he had rented a property called The Old Chart House just a few doors away from the surgery and it was there that he was heading with his expression just as sombre as it had been earlier when he’d seen the girl that he’d surmised might be the Balfours’ daughter.

Just as that family were going through a sticky patch, so was he, and the only person who knew about that was Ethan, who had taken over as senior partner in the local practice when the redoubtable Barbara had been forced to let someone else take the reins.

His friend had visited him in hospital a few times after the incident that had nearly killed him and had made him feel like turning his back on medicine for ever. He’d been performing a routine operation, serious enough but not normally life threatening, when the patient, a woman in her thirties, had gone into shock and died almost immediately on the operating table. There had been no response to resuscitation and he’d had the unpleasant task of telling her husband the tragic news.

The man had gone crazy, his outrage outweighing his grief, and as Lucas was turning away he’d lunged at him with a knife that he’d produced from somewhere and slashed him across the chest. The thin hospital gown he had been wearing had been no protection and the wound was life threatening.

Afterwards, on several of his visits, Ethan had mentioned casually that there could be a place for him here in Bluebell Cove if he so desired, in quieter, less stressful surroundings than those of a big hospital.

At the time he hadn’t been even remotely interested. The future had loomed like a black abyss with no sense or reason in it. But as his body had slowly healed he had accepted grimly that surgeons at the hospital where he saved lives had given him back his, and he was going to have to drag himself up out of the black void.

In the end he’d listened to what Ethan had to say with regard to life in a place like Bluebell Cove being lived at a slower pace, and his friend’s comment that surgeons of his standing were few and far between when he’d said he was thinking of giving up medicine.

He’d taken indefinite leave from the hospital in the nearby town where he’d been the top cardiovascular surgeon for the past five years and so far it was working out all right because he had fallen completely under the spell of Bluebell Cove. So much so that he was in the process of buying The Old Chart House and turning part of it into a private heart clinic which would fill the time when he wasn’t helping out at the surgery. But the nightmare that had brought him there still tormented him in the long hours of the night and on awakening.

On the outside he still gave off an aura of cool competence, but underneath there was hurt and disillusion and the fear that he would never again be the man who had always taken life by the horns, had known where he was going, what he was aiming for—that sort of confidence was now in short supply.

The one thing that his friend hadn’t taken it upon himself to offer advice on was Lucas’s broken engagement to Philippa Carswell, who had worked with him in the cardiac unit at Hunters Hill Hospital.

It had occurred just before the attack on him and he’d never mentioned it since, but there’d been a drawn, pinched look about him afterwards. At the time it had been thought by some that the broken engagement had affected his work and had led to the death of the patient on the operating table which had triggered off the savage attack on the hospital’s top heart man.

But while Lucas had been fighting for his life enquiries had shown that as usual his work had been faultless, and that the demise of the woman undergoing heart surgery had been due to a massive embolism that had blocked the main pulmonary artery and caused sudden death.

Jenna was framed in the open doorway as her father helped her mother slowly and painfully out of the car. She wanted to run to her and hold her close, but caution was holding her back. They’d parted on bad terms, for one thing, and for another it was rare for her mother to be at a disadvantage in a situation. She doubted she would take kindly to this one—a gentle approach was called for.

When Barbara straightened up on the drive supported by the two sticks that Jenna’s father had mentioned, she looked up and saw her, and Jenna felt her throat go dry as the moment took hold of the three of them.

Her mother’s face was slack with surprise and the colour was draining from it as she said, ‘Jenna! Where have you come from?’

‘Just across the Channel, Mum,’ she said softly as she walked towards her.

‘Why didn’t you let me know what was happening to you, for goodness’ sake? I would never have gone if I’d known.’

Barbara’s smile was wintry. ‘I’m not used to pleading. I couldn’t use my fast-approaching immobility as a means of tying you to me.’ She turned to her husband, who so far hadn’t spoken. ‘You are behind this, I suppose, Keith?’

‘Yes,’ he said stoutly, ‘and don’t tell me that you’re not pleased.’

There was no reply forthcoming to that. Instead she asked Jenna, ‘So how long are you here for?’

‘As long as you need me. I’m home for good.’

Her mother’s face was crumpling. ‘Even though I’m still a bossy and cantankerous woman? I don’t deserve you both.’

‘We’ll say hear, hear, to that, won’t we, Jenna?’ Keith joked, gazing at the two women in his life and smiling his relief.

One day he would tell Jenna what it was that had driven her mother through all the years when they and the practice had been in two very separate compartments of her life, theirs being the smaller. But in the meantime Barbara needed to be inside and resting after their drive across the downs on the cliff tops and into the countryside.

The sun was setting like crimson fire on the horizon as Jenna gazed down onto the beach later that evening. Her mother was asleep and her father contentedly watching television.

She had helped Barbara to undress and assisted with her toiletries, and when she had finally settled against the pillows her mother had taken her hand into her own swollen one and without any words of endearment had said simply, ‘I will sleep better tonight not having to wonder where you are and if you’re safe.’

Knowing that such a comment coming from her was the nearest she might ever get to ‘I love you’, Jenna had kissed her gently on the brow and said, ‘Don’t disturb Dad if you need help in the night. Call me, yes?’

‘Yes,’ her mother had replied obediently and they’d both dissolved into laughter at the reversal of their roles, and the moment of shared amusement was another first.

And now the night was still young and there were lots of folk on the beach and in the sea, out to enjoy every moment of the waning day. Ronnie must have been right, she decided. Their absence in the afternoon had been because there had been something special on.

‘I’m going for a stroll,’ she told her father on returning to the sitting room.

‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I will most likely have gone to bed by the time you get back so I’ll see you at breakfast, beautiful daughter.’ With a twinkle in his eye, he added, ‘I thought sometimes that you might bring the man of your dreams back with you one day.’

‘No chance. I met one or two nice guys, but Mr Right wasn’t amongst them. I think he’s still on the drawing board,’ she said lightly, and for a moment the man with the amazing attractiveness and closed expression that she’d seen on the beach came to mind.

There had been no mention of the practice since she’d arrived home, Jenna was thinking as she walked slowly along the road that led inland from the seashore, and when there was, what was she going to say?

There might be no need to say anything if the surgery was fully staffed, and how would she feel then—disappointed? That kind of thing was in Ethan Lomax’s hands now. He was senior partner and would be the one she needed to talk to if she wanted to work there.

She’d always wanted a career in nursing and having had her time out was ready to put to use the skills and knowledge that she’d acquired during her training. Most of the friends she’d made during that time had gone into hospital situations but, Jenna thought whimsically, they hadn’t had a mother who’d been the best G.P. for miles around and had wanted the same kind of dedication from her daughter.

The local pub was just a few doors away from the surgery and when it came into sight she saw that all the tables and chairs outside were occupied by those who had been tempted out by the mellow night.

Someone called across to her. She waved but didn’t linger and carried on walking past the surgery towards The Old Chart House, which had been empty the last time she’d seen it.

A guy was cutting the lawns at the front of it with a powerful machine and even with his back to her she recognised the stance of him as the surfer she’d met that afternoon.

As the memory was taking shape he swung the mower round to face the front and it was as before, a meeting of glances.

‘Hello, there,’ he said. ‘We met earlier on the beach, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘Yes,’ she replied, and having no wish to give the impression that she’d seen it as a memorable occasion commented, ‘I’m surprised to find this place occupied. It has been empty for a long time.’

‘So I believe,’ he replied, resting his arms on the handle of the mower. ‘I rented it originally, but when I decided to stick around I wanted living in Bluebell Cove to be a more permanent thing, and have heard only today that my purchase of the property has gone through.’

‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s a lovely house. Congratulations!’

‘What for?’ he asked dryly. ‘Buying a house that is far too big for me?’

‘So you live alone?’

‘Yes, where do you live?’ As if he didn’t know.

‘With my parents at the moment in the house on the headland called Four Winds.’

So he was right, Lucas was thinking. This was the Balfour girl, having changed the bikini for a blue cotton sundress that matched her eyes.

There might have been a time when he would have warmed to her attractions but after Philippa the mighty ocean not far away would freeze over before he made that mistake again. From what he’d heard this one had an eye to the main chance too, leaving her mother in the state she’d been in when he’d made the acquaintance of the staff at The Tides practice.

He had no family and envied those who had in whatever shape or form. His father had died while he’d been at medical school fifteen years ago, and as an only child he’d been very protective of his mother until she too had succumbed to inoperable cancer.

Philippa Carswell had been his second in command on the cardiology unit at Hunters Hill Hospital, with hair the colour of fire and the passion to go with it. He’d been in love with her and had believed she’d returned his feelings.

As well as being physically attracted to her, he’d admired her determination to get to the top of her profession, until he’d discovered that she had intended him to be a casualty on the way.

But she’d reckoned without friendship. He’d always had a good relationship with fifty-year-old Robert Dawson, head of the hospital trust at Hunters Hill, and one night when the two men had met up for a meal, which they did occasionally, his friend had warned Lucas that Philippa wanted his job and had told him that she would do anything to get it.

He might have doubted the truth of it coming from anyone else, but not from Robert, who was the soul of integrity. When he’d challenged her about it she’d laughed in his face and commented that all was fair in love and war.

It had been war all right from that moment on, and realising she’d gone a step too far she’d packed her bags and gone to work in America, leaving him with a jaundiced view of the opposite sex, beautiful ones in particular.

Discovering that he’d been just a rung on the ladder of her ambition had been the first life-shattering thing to happen to him, but the next had been far worse and he was always going to carry the scar from the stab wound he’d received that day.

It was one of the hazards of being a doctor, one he could have done without, but he’d forgiven the culprit and was trying to get on with his life in the slower, less fraught kind of way that Ethan had described by holding a twice-weekly heart clinic at the practice where the other man was in charge. He was also intending to open up a private consultancy shortly, in the house that was now his.

It was all very different from the life he’d envisaged for himself. With Philippa gone and the cut and thrust of the cardiac unit at the hospital no longer at his elbow all the time, whether he was going to be happy in it remained to be seen, but no doubt, as it always did, time would tell.

While his thoughts had been somewhere else Jenna had been observing him warily, keen to know who he was but not about to ask. She sensed something in his manner and as she’d never met him before until today it was strange. Her curiosity was increasing by the second.

It was not to be satisfied, however. He wasn’t quite as aloof as when they’d met on the beach, but no name or any other item of information was forthcoming from him. Only one thing was sure, he’d bought The Old Chart House so she would be seeing him around and that was a thought not to be treated lightly.

‘Bye for now,’ she said breezily into the silence that had fallen between them. ‘I hope you’ll be happy in your new home.’

‘Thanks,’ he replied, taken aback at receiving good wishes from a stranger, and as if he had to justify himself for some reason he went on, ‘I’m not sure about that, but I do admit that I’ve fallen in love with this place, the house, the beach, and the green fields of Devon stretching as far as the eye can see.’ His voice hardened. ‘Those kinds of things don’t change.’

‘Er, no,’ she agreed, not sure what to make of that, and turning to go back the way she’d come, she left him with a casual wave of the hand.

When she’d gone he stood without moving, staring grimly into space. What on earth had possessed him to start chatting to her? If she was out to scrape an acquaintance she’d chosen the wrong man. He might have been a fool once, but twice? Never!

When she awoke early the next morning Jenna could already hear the laughter of children down below and the deeper tones of parents, signalling that the tide was out. Further along on the headland someone had lit a fire and she could smell bacon cooking.

If only her mother was in better health she would be content, she thought as she watched them from her window. Their reunion had been less stressful than she’d expected and if she would let her help instead of hanging so tightly onto her independence she, Jenna, could combine a part-time job somewhere with looking after her.

As she was clearing away after breakfast she heard a familiar voice on the terrace where her parents were sitting in the sun, and when she went outside Ethan Lomax observed her in surprise.

‘Jenna!’ he exclaimed. ‘Have you come back to us, or is it just a visit?’

‘I’m back,’ she told him, smiling her pleasure at the sight of the good-natured doctor who had taken her mother’s place. ‘I haven’t discussed it with Mum and Dad yet as I only arrived yesterday, but I would like to combine looking after her with some sort of part-time nursing somewhere.’

‘I can manage…’ her mother started to protest.

Ignoring the protest, Ethan was smiling and saying, ‘You need look no further if you want a job. We need a part-time practice nurse to help with morning surgery, and for a couple of afternoons to assist Lucas in the cardiology clinic.’

‘Lucas! Cardiology clinic!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who might he be? And how long has the surgery been able to offer that kind of thing?’

‘Since a friend of mine needed a change of scene,’ he said with a smile. ‘So are you interested?’

‘Of course I am!’ she hooted, ‘just as long as Mum and Dad agree.’

‘You already know my views regarding you joining the practice,’ her mother said.

Her father commented gently, ‘It’s all right by me, but I don’t want you to feel that now you’re back you’re being hemmed in with our affairs, Jenna. You’ve got a top degree in nursing, remember.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she replied, ‘but a nurse is a nurse is a nurse wherever he or she may be. My stepping into that role here has been delayed, but I always intended to join the practice one day if there was a place for me. We Balfour women have to stick together.’

The saying of that sentiment would have stuck in her throat at one time, she thought, but there was something so sad in seeing her mother defeated by illness that she’d meant every word.

Ethan was checking his watch. ‘Must go,’ he said, ‘or they’ll be thinking at the surgery that I’ve got lost. So are we sorted, Jenna? You’re interested in coming to join us?’

‘Yes. Definitely.’

She would have agreed to sweep the streets, or empty waste bins, if it would have resulted in the same degree of happiness she was seeing on her mother’s face.

‘Call in this afternoon for a chat if you get the chance,’ he said as she walked to the gate with him. He lowered his voice. ‘It must have been a shock when you saw your mother. She was fine when you left, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes, she seemed to be,’ she told him sombrely. ‘I had no idea, and needless to say she didn’t tell me what was going on. That isn’t her way.’

‘I know,’ he agreed, ‘and it isn’t always the best.’

When he’d gone her father said by way of explanation, ‘Ethan calls every morning on his way to the surgery to make sure we’re all right. He’s a good guy.’

It was late afternoon before Jenna got the chance to call in at the practice and when she went through the main doors into Reception she was gripped by a feeling of unreality. This had been her mother’s domain and now here she was, another Balfour about to become part of The Tides practice.

There was a new face behind Reception and as Jenna moved across to explain why she was there, the door of a consulting room opened directly behind her. As she swivelled round, there he was again, the mystery man, surfer, property owner, and what else—patient, doctor, medical sales rep?

The questions crowding her mind were soon answered as with a swift glance in her direction he said to the elderly man about to depart, ‘I want to see you again next week, Mr Enderby, and if in the meantime the fast heartbeat or breathing problems return send for me immediately and we’ll take it further. The ECG you’ve just had didn’t show any cause for concern at the moment, but do remember that my heart clinic is here for your benefit.’

‘It was probably me getting so worked up about losing my sheepdog that caused me to be the way I was,’ the elderly farmer said awkwardly. ‘I’d had Jess for a long time.’

‘So maybe it wasn’t surprising, then,’ he said with a sympathetic smile, and Jenna thought that it must just be her that he couldn’t take to. Yet why should this stranger want to get to know her? He might be living alone but there was nothing to say that he didn’t prefer it that way, or wasn’t already spoken for.

George Enderby halted in his tracks when he saw her standing there and exclaimed, ‘Jenna! How long have you been back in Bluebell Cove, my dear?’

‘Since yesterday,’ she told him with a wide smile.

‘And are you staying?’

‘Yes, I am, Mr Enderby. I’m going to be working mornings here and will be helping with the new heart clinic on two afternoons.’

‘That’s good news. I feel better already.’ He chortled and went slowly on his way, leaving her to adjust to the fact that the man on the beach was the Lucas person, the celebrity who was involved with the practice.

He was a new face there, just as the receptionist seemed to be, and she, Jenna, would be another when she joined the staff. Though she wouldn’t be a new face to everyone. To most folk she would be Barbara’s daughter.

Only that morning Ethan had referred to a cardiologist who had his own clinic there, and this just had to be him with a dark suit and smart shirt and tie replacing the swimming trunks of their first meeting and the sports shirt and shorts that had been his attire on the second.

The elderly farmer had gone and now the receptionist was on the phone to a patient and the man observing her with cool dark eyes said, ‘I’m presuming that you are Jenna Balfour here to see Ethan. He said to look after you if he wasn’t back from an urgent home visit he’s been called out on, but I’m sure that the receptionist will be only too pleased to make you a cup of tea when she comes off the phone.’

His tone implied that he didn’t want the responsibility of looking after her and she told him frostily, ‘I’ll be fine, thanks just the same. It seems as if you have quite rightly decided who I am, so how about introducing yourself?’

‘Lucas Devereux,’ he said evenly, ‘recuperating in the countryside and involving myself in medicine at a slower pace.’

She held out a smooth ringless hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Dr Devereux.’

He hesitated for a second then took it in a firm clasp and instead of greeting her in a similar fashion merely said, ‘Nice of you to say so.’

The receptionist had replaced the phone and he didn’t waste a second in saying, ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient waiting.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and seek out someone that I know after I’ve introduced myself to this lady.’