Читать книгу The Socialite's Secret - Carol Marinelli - Страница 10

CALM, PROFESSIONAL AND DETACHED.

That was how Luke had intended to be with Scarlet as he updated her on her mother’s condition. The entire walk from the staffroom, right the way to his office, Luke had been telling himself that he was more than capable of being just that.

Luke had learnt a long time ago to push emotions aside—with patients and their relatives, with his own relatives too.

He had just never quite mastered objectivity when Scarlet was around.

It was something he knew he had better start working on.

Just not today.

Now the very last thing Scarlet needed was calm, professional and detached, but more to the point the impact of actually seeing her again meant that Luke could be none of those things.

Just yet.

As he pulled her into his arms, the embrace was as necessary for Luke as it was for Scarlet. There was so much anger and pain inside both of them. Their traumatic past was perhaps insurmountable but he dealt with the present now.

She was here. Not by the method he would have preferred—Luke had hoped Scarlet would contact him before she’d left for America today—but, yes, she was here, and so Luke held her in his arms and smelt again her hair, fighting not to kiss her salty tears away.

How messed up was that? Luke thought to himself.

He’d had a few months to prepare for the possibility of seeing her again. Since Anya’s UK tour had been announced late last year, the thought that their paths might cross had been constantly on his mind. Since Anya and her entourage had touched down in England he had been wondering if Scarlet would call, if their history meant as much to Scarlet as it did to him. And, since seven this morning, when the news had broken that Anya was in an ambulance, being blue-lighted towards the Royal, he had dealt with the knowledge that he’d face Scarlet today.

Every preconceived response to her that he’d had crumbled.

Yes, there was an awful lot that needed to be discussed but Luke knew that Anya wasn’t the only vulnerable, critical casualty that had been bought into his department today. Scarlet was another and, at a very personal level, he cared about her so very much more. Luke didn’t want to let her go because, when he did so, back to her world Scarlet would return and so Luke took another moment to hold her.

Scarlet held him too.

She didn’t just lean on him, she had slipped her hands into his jacket and wrapped her arms around his solid waist and just breathed in the delicious scent of him. Tangy, musky, male. It was a scent that she had yearned for and never forgotten and one that had been made familiar again now.

How could it be that he felt the same to her hands?

After all that had gone on, how, on this day, could Luke’s arms be the ones that were holding her up?

As she was in England she had hoped that they might meet, but she had expected harsh, accusing words to be hurled at her. Words that he had every right to deliver, but instead of that he held her and made the horrible world go away for a moment.

As she had sat in the staffroom, waiting for news, Scarlet had blocked out the sounds of the people around her. Vince had been trying to speak with her, telling her what to say, insisting that her version of events wasn’t quite correct. Her mother’s manager, Sonia, had demanded to know where Scarlet had got to yesterday and why she hadn’t been there to see her mother go on stage.

None of them knew about the row she’d had with her mother in the early hours and Scarlet had sat revisiting that as she’d done the best to block everyone else out.

And then in the midst of the madness she had heard the calm deepness of Luke’s voice.

Her frantic heart seemed to have stopped beating for a second.

Oh, she had known that Luke was a doctor but she hadn’t known he worked in London. When they had met he had been here for an interview but had been unsure if he’d take the job.

It had never entered her head that Luke might be here in the hospital and be the doctor fighting to save her mother’s life.

Yet he was.

When Scarlet had looked up she had felt the very same jolt that had run through her the night he had walked into the club and their worlds had changed for ever.

He’d been wearing a suit that night and he was wearing one now.

It was the little things she noticed and remembered.

The other stuff was way too insurmountable for now.

And, as Luke had the first night they had met, when she clung to him he pulled back.

‘Tell me.’ Scarlet held him tighter, not ready to let go. If the news was bad, and given the morning’s events she expected it to be, it was like this she wanted to hear it.

‘She’s doing better.’

Scarlet held her breath.

‘Your mother briefly opened her eyes,’ Luke explained. ‘And she was fighting the breathing tube. That’s good. For now she’s been placed in an induced coma.’

‘Is she going to die?’ Scarlet asked.

‘I don’t think so but she came very close.’

‘I know,’ Scarlet said. ‘I called an ambulance.’

‘That’s good.’

‘You told me the number.’

She took a splinter of their time and they both examined it for a moment. A little shard of conversation that, had it come from another, would have been swept away, never to be examined again, but both now recalled that tiny memory with absolute clarity.

Scarlet looked up but not into his eyes.

Never again, Scarlet knew, would she be able to meet that deep, chocolate-brown gaze. There was just too much regret and shame for that. Instead, she looked at that lovely unshaven jaw and the deep red of his mouth that had once delivered paradise.

And Luke, feeling her eyes scan his mouth, despite the circumstance of this meeting, wanted to lower his to meet hers.

It was as simple as that.

But those days were gone and so, because he had to, he let her go. ‘Have a seat,’ Luke said in his best doctor’s voice.

Calm, professional, detached.

If he was going to do this properly then he could be no other way.

Scarlet remained standing as Luke took off his jacket, threw it onto a chair and then went around the desk and sat down, waiting for her to do the same.

‘Tell me what happened.’ Luke kicked the interview off.

‘I told you,’ Scarlet said. ‘I called an ambulance. Vince had called for backup but they were taking for ever and—’

‘Scarlet,’ Luke interrupted, ‘we need to start at the beginning. Before this morning when did you last see your mother?’

‘Last night,’ Scarlet said, and watched as Luke picked up a pen and jotted something down. ‘There was a party to celebrate the end of her tour and …’ Scarlet shrugged but didn’t finish.

‘And how was she?’ Luke asked.

‘I didn’t make it to the party,’ Scarlet said. ‘I saw her back at the hotel.’

‘What time was that?’

‘About midnight.’

‘And how was she?’

‘Tired.’

‘Who was the last person to see her?’

‘Me,’ Scarlet said. ‘I think.’

‘Around midnight?’

‘Around one. Can you stop taking notes?’ Scarlet asked. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re writing things down.’

‘Scarlet, these details are important,’ Luke said, but he did put down his pen.

He’d been using it as a distraction.

Not a word of this conversation would he ever forget.

‘You found her?’ Luke checked, and Scarlet gave a tense nod.

‘What time was that?’

‘Just before six.’

‘Were the two of you sharing a room?’

‘No.’ Scarlet frowned.

‘Were you staying in the same suite?’

‘No.’

‘So why were you in your mother’s room at six a.m.?’

‘I just went in to check on her.’

‘Why?’ Luke persisted.

‘Because I was worried about her.’

‘Why?’ Luke pushed, but Scarlet did not elaborate. ‘Come on, Scarlet. I can’t help if you don’t tell me.’

‘You can’t help me.’

‘I’m talking about your mother!’ Luke’s voice rose, just a fraction. It had to if they were going to stay on track. That little pull back served to remind not just Scarlet but himself that this was work. He watched her eyes fill with tears at the slight reprimand but he had to push through. When no further information was forthcoming he chose to be direct.

‘Has your mother been depressed lately?’

‘No, no.’ Scarlet shook her head. ‘It’s nothing like that. She just took too much.’

‘How, when her physician keeps her pills?’

‘She keeps some on her,’ Scarlet said.

Luke honestly didn’t know if Scarlet was covering up for her mother or simply had no idea how serious the problem was.

‘Scarlet.’ Luke tried to meet her gaze. ‘Why did you go in to check on your mum? I’m not going to write anything down. Just tell me.’

‘I was worried.’

‘More so than usual?’ Luke checked, and she nodded. ‘I need to know why.’

‘We had a row.’

‘About?’

‘Please don’t ask, Dr Edwards.’ It was Scarlet now who rebuked him, just a little but enough for him to get what she meant—if there were lines that could not be crossed, if he wanted to keep this professional, then, right now, the answer to that question could not be discussed. ‘We had an argument.’

‘Okay.’

‘They want my mother to be moved to another hospital,’ Scarlet said.

Luke had guessed that they might. ‘Well, as of now, the only place your mother is being moved to is Intensive Care. Here.’

‘They think that she needs to be somewhere more used to dealing with …’ Scarlet stopped what she had about been to say. Luke loathed the word ‘celebrity’.

‘She’s in the best place and in no condition to be moved,’ Luke said. ‘As her daughter, you get to make that call.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Scarlet gave a worried shake of her head.

‘I know so,’ Luke responded.

‘But she has Vince. He deals with all that type of thing.’

‘Yes, well, Vince is going to be a bit busy for the foreseeable future. After I’ve spoken with you, believe me, I’m going to be speaking with him and getting a far more accurate history than the one he gave me earlier. I may also be speaking with the police so trust me when I say that I’ll back your call if you want your mother kept here.’

‘Luke, please, don’t bring the police into this.’ Scarlet started to cry and not very quietly.

He sat and watched unmoved. Those tears did not move him and certainly he would not be swayed by hype and celebrity status when he made his decisions.

He just needed more facts but few were forthcoming.

His pager trilled and Luke checked it. Seeing that it was Heather, he made a phone call and rolled his eyes as she told him that the press were becoming more insistent. ‘Just say no comment,’ Luke responded tartly. ‘How hard is it to say that?’ He let out a tense breath. ‘Unless there is a change in Anya’s condition, or you need me for another patient, you’re not to disturb me. I’m speaking with a relative now.’

He looked over and saw that in the couple of minutes it had taken to speak with Heather, Scarlet had stopped crying long enough to take out her phone. Luke watched with mounting irritation. They were speaking about her mother’s near-death and yet Scarlet was checking the news reports and quickly scrolling through social media!

‘What are you doing?’ Luke asked.

‘It’s everywhere!’ Scarlet said, but then she really started to cry and they weren’t false tears this time. As she put the phone down on the desk, Luke saw an image, and he reached over and picked it up.

The photo that he saw was of Scarlet. She was dressed in a pair of red pyjamas and her feet were bare as she stood on the street beside the ambulance that her mother was being loaded into. Two bodyguards were restraining her from climbing in. Her black hair was a mop of wild curls, her usually pale skin was red from crying and there was a look of sheer terror on her face.

Luke looked up from Scarlet’s phone and at the woman who now sat on the other side of his desk—she was the perfectly groomed star in crisis now! Scarlet was wearing tight leather leggings and a tight black top. Over that there was a large silver leather jacket that looked as if it had been thrown on at the last minute. Her black curls were now perfectly tousled. Luke knew, though, from very personal experience, that the photo was a truer portrayal of Scarlet’s morning locks.

He pulled away from that memory; instead, he looked back at the phone and the image that had been captured by the press.

It showed a rare moment of reality in a very unrealistic world and this would be the photo that would dominate, Luke was sure.

Scarlet looking less than perfect.

It was the Scarlet he far preferred.

‘It’s going to be worse than ever now …’ Scarlet could not stop crying. Yes, she was terrified for her mother, but she’d had so much hanging on today, so many plans in place. There wasn’t a hope of escaping from the press now and, Scarlet knew, now more than ever her mother needed her to be near.

‘They’re going to make my life hell.’

‘Don’t feed them, then,’ Luke said. Her head was in her hands, her fingers were scrunched in her hair, but she lifted her face and gave him a scornful look as he continued to speak. ‘You don’t have to respond to the press, just focus on your mother and yourself.’

‘What would you know?’ Scarlet scoffed.

‘Oh, I know,’ Luke said. It was pointless to sit and pretend that he could take a comprehensive history from Scarlet and leave the personal aside. ‘David, the anaesthetist, will take a more thorough history once your mother has been transferred to ICU.’ He handed her back her phone, and as he did so he looked at Scarlet’s slender, manicured fingers and remembered hands that were as smooth as a kitten’s paws.

No, anger at her spoiled, pampered life didn’t now gnaw at him; instead, it saddened him that that funny, adventurous mind had been locked away for so long.

Yes, the world was supposedly Scarlet’s oyster, but Luke knew that since the day she had been born, her life had been magnified by a lens.

‘You’re handing me over.’

‘I’m handing your mother’s care over,’ Luke said. ‘That’s normal policy when a patient is moved. I need to get back out there, Scarlet. I have patients to see.’

‘What about me?’

Typical, Luke thought, but, though he tried to generate anger, though he did his best to remind himself of the spoiled princess Scarlet was and the absolute diva she could be, he failed.

‘What about us?’ Scarlet said.

‘There’s no us,’ Luke lied.

He was angry now as he recalled all she had done, but instead of standing to leave, he sat there.

And so did she.

They sat in the silence of his office and as the world carried on outside, both went back to a time when things had seemed so different.

When hope had arrived in both their hearts.

Even if it killed them to do so, both remembered.