Читать книгу Once More, With Feeling - Caroline Anderson - Страница 6

EMILY arrived to take up her post two weeks later, having sent the housekeeper on ahead to clean up the cottage and prepare it for her arrival with Jamie.

He was thoughtful about leaving the big house in Surrey where he had lived with his parents, but she explained that they wouldn’t be selling it yet and could always come back for visits. Anyway, she remembered how much Jamie had wanted to move to Devon, how he had begged her. That was one reason, probably the most significant, why she had taken the job. She just hoped for all their sakes that it didn’t prove a huge mistake.

‘Are we going to live in Mummy’s cottage, Emmy?’ he asked for the hundredth time on the drive down. He was so insecure now, and she hastened to reassure him.

‘Yes, darling. We’ll be there tonight.’

‘Will I have my own room?’

‘Yes, of course.’

There was the question of where she would sleep, but as the cottage had four bedrooms there was no need for her to use the room that Sarah and Philip had used—and that she had slept in with David on their honeymoon.

Mrs Bradley, the housekeeper who had been with Philip’s family for years and who was to stay on to help care for Jamie at Philip’s behest, would have the large room next to Jamie as her bed-sitting room. Emily would have the fourth bedroom.

It was small, but she was on her own, so it didn’t matter. Anyway, it had a distant view of the sea down the valley and across the rooftops of Biddlecombe, and the sun would wake her every morning.

They arrived at the cottage to a warm welcome from Mrs Bradley, and within a very short time Jamie was settled in his bed, his teddy under his arm, his thumb tucked in his mouth, and Emily was sitting down with Mrs Bradley going over the arrangements for the beginning of the next week when Emily started work and Jamie would join the village school. She had managed to get a place for him, and the headmaster was looking forward to meeting the boy on Monday.

The only thing left to concern her was David, and the prospect of working with him made the ergonomics of her accommodation and Jamie’s schooling pale into insignificance.

In fact her first morning at the surgery was much easier than she had expected, because he greeted her with a friendly smile, gave her a cup of coffee and took himself off, leaving it to Laurence to make her feel at home and show her where everything was kept.

Her first patients were genuinely in need, but she had no doubt that after a few days word would get round and she would be inundated with people giving their noses a treat.

Her clinics, she noticed, were already booked some way ahead, especially the family planning and antenatal.

They like a woman for a woman’s domain,’ Sue said with a smile. ‘I have to agree—but if you feel you’ve got too many I can shift some back to David, although he won’t like it. Some of them flirt with him, but you can’t blame them. He’s just such a sexy beast—Oh, lord, I’m sorry!’ Her hand flew over her mouth, and Emily smiled at her discomfort.

‘Sue, forget it. It was ages ago, and I’m over him,’ she lied. ‘Don’t feel you have to walk on eggshells, please. One thing, though—I’d rather the patients didn’t know we’d been married.’

‘Oh, of course not,’ Sue agreed. ‘It’s nobody’s business but your own, and I’m sorry I said what I did.’

Emily smiled again. ‘You’re right, though—he is a sexy beast.’

‘You couldn’t be talking about me, could you?’

David’s voice behind made her jump, and she turned towards him with a cool smile. ‘Your ego’s still intact, I see. No, we were talking about Robert de Niro, actually. Excuse me.’

She slipped past him and retreated to her office, closing the door behind her.

It opened almost immediately.

‘Can I have a word?’

She shrugged. She couldn’t shut him out of her life completely; they had to work together.

‘Of course.’

She waved to a seat and positioned herself safely behind her desk. ‘What can I do for you?’

He sighed thoughtfully. ‘Oh, Emily, there’s a question and a half.’

‘David …’ Her voice contained a warning, and he grinned, melting her insides.

She almost groaned aloud. Sue was right—he was a sexy beast.

‘This afternoon,’ he said, the grin replaced by a businesslike expression that wasn’t nearly so heart-melting—thank God, she thought. He went on, ‘Mr and Mrs Blake are coming to see you. They’re my patients, and I don’t know what they want—perhaps it’s family planning or something. Anyway, they specifically requested an appointment with the new lady doctor when she arrived, and the appointment’s been booked for over a week.’

‘I’ll tell you what it’s about,’ she promised.

He nodded. ‘OK. I’ll be around if you want to refer to me—perhaps sneak out to get a form from reception or some such excuse.’

She eyed him curiously. ‘Do you really think that’ll be necessary?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably not. I just get a feeling about them. I don’t think they’re all that happy together, and a joint appointment with a stranger—’ He shrugged again. ‘Could be nothing, of course, but I just thought I’d prime you. Right.’

He unfolded his legs and stretched his hands over his head, yawning widely. ‘Oh, God, I hate weekends on duty. I’m going home to walk the dogs—I’ll be back before two for my clinic. What are you doing about lunch?’

She opened her drawer and pulled out some sandwiches.

‘You don’t want to come with me and grab a snack at home and a quick stroll over the hill?’

It sounded lovely, just the way they had spent their honeymoon, but she forced herself to shake her head. This was hardly the way to start, and working with him would be hard enough without encouraging little intimate walks over the hills.

‘I think not,’ she said as firmly as she could manage, and with a rueful grin he left her alone, wondering if she’d lost her marbles completely or if it just seemed that way.

She should have known to trust his instincts, she thought as she studied the couple opposite her.

They were in their thirties, a very average professional couple, but the way the consultation was going was far from average.

‘Of course,’ Mr Blake was saying, ‘we’d probably stand more chance of having another child if the first one wasn’t always in our bed.’

Mrs Blake’s eyes slid away, and Emily’s own instincts prickled. Her attention switched to the woman.

‘How old is your child?’

‘Four—and she has terrible nightmares. If we don’t have her in bed with us, she wakes screaming and it takes ages to settle her down again.’

‘Not that long,’ her husband argued.

‘No, well, it isn’t you that ends up doing it,’ she returned bitterly. ‘You just lie there on your back snoring your head off and complain that I’ve woken you with the creaky boards—though if you’d ever put them down again properly after you fixed that pipe they wouldn’t creak—’

‘I think we’re rather getting off the point,’ Emily interjected gently but firmly. ‘I have a son of six, and when his father died recently he was very upset. He started getting into bed with me at night, and I could see this becoming a pattern, so what I did was when he woke I got into his bed for a little while and gave him a cuddle, then slipped out again when he’d gone off. If he came to me, I’d carry him back once he’d settled.’

She regarded the couple in front of her. ‘It worked for us—it might work for you. I certainly don’t think you can leave a child upset in the middle of the night, but to allow her presence to affect your relationship to this extent I think is probably not healthy either for the child or for you—’

‘Not healthy?’ Mr Blake bristled. ‘Are you accusing us of abusing her or something?’

‘No, of course not,’ Emily soothed. ‘I’m simply suggesting that a better sleep-pattern, undisturbed by a frightened child, or more opportunities to concentrate on the physical aspect of your relationship might be emotionally and physically healthier for all of you.’

‘Well, it wasn’t my idea to have her in bed with us in the first place, and she’s much worse now than she used to be.’

‘And I suppose that’s my fault!’ Mrs Blake said defensively—too defensively.

Clearly, Emily thought, she wasn’t going to get anywhere until she split these two up—and perhaps a word with the intuitive Dr Trevellyan might be in order.

‘I don’t seem to have all your notes here,’ she said blandly to them. ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll just go and see what I can find in the office.’

She nipped out of the door and down the corridor. Sue was on the reception desk, and Emily asked if she knew where David was.

‘In his office—he’s alone, so if you want to go in you can. I think he’s half expecting you.’

She knocked on the door and went in. ‘You were right,’ she said directly.

‘The Blakes? What’s the problem?’

‘He’s complaining that they can’t have another child because the first is still coming into their bed at night and so they don’t have the opportunity. Reading between the lines, I would say Mrs Blake isn’t keen anyway. Apparently they’ve been trying for over a year.’

David’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Have they, indeed? So why did she come and see me six months ago for another diaphragm?’

Emily’s jaw dropped, and then she nodded. ‘Oh, that figures. The child’s a smokescreen—she’s using her so she doesn’t have to sleep with her husband—or, at least, can only sleep.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Hmm?’

‘I heard a rumour—it might be nothing, but she could be having an affair.’

Emily’s mouth formed a round O. ‘Tricky.’

‘Very. I’ll give you the details later. Split them up, send him in to me for a physical, and get her to spill the beans.’

‘OK. Now?’

‘Yeah, send him straight in. I’ll return him to the waiting-room.’

She went back and sent Mr Blake to David, then confronted Mrs Blake.

‘OK. On your notes it says you have a diaphragm. I’ve spoken to Dr Trevellyan; he confirmed it.’

Panic flared in the woman’s eyes. ‘He won’t tell Neil, will he? I mean, it is confidential?’

‘Of course he won’t tell him. And clearly you haven’t, or else you wouldn’t be here today talking about infertility.’

She let the silence stretch, then Mrs Blake gave a shaky sigh and reluctantly met Emily’s eyes. ‘I don’t want another baby,’ she said slowly. ‘At least, not Neil’s.’

‘Things don’t seem all sweetness and light between you,’ Emily acknowledged.

The woman gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘You could say that. It was OK for a while, we struggled along making the best of it, but then—there’s someone else, someone I love—’ She pressed her fingers to her mouth, clearly upset, and Emily settled back in the chair.

‘Take your time,’ she said reassuringly.

‘He’s wonderful—warm, tender, understanding.’ She paused. ‘He’s also married.’

‘Ah.’

‘His wife’s disabled. He loves her, but like a sister, you know? Not that there could be anything else between them. She’s got multiple sclerosis, and she’s—well, she’s bad.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Emily’s soft heart went out to the unknown woman whose husband apparently loved her, but not enough to stay at home.

‘She’s permanently bedridden now—she’s incontinent and her limbs are very spastic. She finds swallowing difficult, and she’s very depressed.’ Ann Blake looked at Emily. ‘I’d hate her to find out about us, but Richard’s coping all alone and someone has to help him through it. He gives her so much, not just his time but friendship, support—he gets really depressed. That was how it started, really—he was sitting in the park, and I was out with Jane and the dog. He looked so bleak, so alone. We started to talk, and …’

Ann paused, her face softening. ‘He laughed, for the first time in months, he said. I saw him again by accident, and then we began arranging to meet, always quite innocently. We never meant this to happen.’

‘But it did.’

‘Yes. And all I want is to be with him, but I can’t.’

‘And meanwhile you’re living with a man you no longer love, who wants to have another child.’

She nodded, and her eyes filled. ‘What can I do? Richard can’t leave Jenny, and I can’t afford to leave Neil and live on my own with Jane. Anyway, he’d probably want custody and she loves him.’

‘Is it fair to her to use her as a smokescreen?’

There was silence for a long while, then Mrs Blake shook her head. ‘No—no, of course not. I didn’t even realise I was doing it until just now. It was only when you suggested that if we put her back in her own bed it would give our physical relationship a chance that I realised how badly I didn’t want that to happen.’

Emily eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Mrs Blake, when did you and your husband last make love?’

She snorted. ‘We don’t make love, Dr Thompson. We had sex back in—June? July? And that was the first time since Easter.’

‘And it’s now September. How long can you fool him?’

She shrugged helplessly. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Nor do I,’ Emily told her, ‘but one thing I do know—it isn’t fair to Jane to use her like this. She must start sleeping in her own bed again, and I don’t mean with you. How you persuade your husband that you aren’t going to have intercourse is your problem, but if you want any help or counselling advice you can always go to Relate, the marriage guidance people. They’re very good. Perhaps you ought to try it.’

‘And what can they do?’ Ann asked heavily. ‘Make me fall back in love with Neil again? I doubt it.’

So did Emily, but there was nothing more she could do. There was clearly no fertility problem that exposure to the appropriate opportunity wouldn’t solve, and there was obviously no need for any further medical involvement. How Mrs Blake dealt with it from here was her own problem, and it was one Emily didn’t envy her one bit.

As she was leaving, she turned back to Emily. ‘Dr Thompson, this is confidential, isn’t it? I mean, whatever we’ve told each other in here won’t get back to Neil?’

‘No, of course not. Not without your permission.’

‘So he won’t ever know what went on in here today?’

As Emily confirmed that, it occurred to her that it was a strange way to phrase the question. After her surgery was over she went and sought David out.

‘Tricky one,’ he said. ‘I expect she intends to lie through her teeth to him.’

‘Oh, dear. Do you think he’ll come back for some answers?’

David shrugged. ‘Depends how convincing she is. Some women aren’t very convincing liars.’

He was looking at her oddly, as if he was referring to her, and she felt her heart thud uncomfortably. Not that she had lied—except by omission, to allow him to think that Jamie was hers.

Still, his eyes searched hers as he stood up and came slowly round the end of the desk.

‘I ought to tell you all about the man she’s having the affair with. Why don’t we do it over a drink on the way home?’

She had to physically stop herself from backing up against the wall to get away from him.

‘No! I mean—I’m tired, and it was Jamie’s first day at school. I ought to get back and see him and ask Mrs Bradley how he was when she picked him up.’

‘Mrs Bradley?’

‘Our housekeeper.’

David’s brows quirked slightly. ‘Housekeeper, eh? I thought you’d have an au pair.’

Emily shook her head. ‘No—it was a provision of Philip’s will that she have a home with us for life, and a living allowance. He left us all very well provided for, and Mrs Bradley’s just another example of his thoughtfulness. She’s been with his family for years, and Jamie knows her. It seemed very sensible, and to be honest I’m very grateful to her for all she does. I couldn’t do my job properly without her.’

‘No, I can see that,’ he said. He paused, those soft grey eyes searching her face until the need to run was paramount. And yet he wasn’t threatening—rather the reverse. His hand came up and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and she quivered at his touch. ‘Poor Emily,’ he said softly. ‘It must be very hard for you. How does Jamie cope with his mother working when his father’s died so recently?’

She should have corrected him then, but she didn’t—another lost opportunity. Tonight, though, didn’t seem to be the time. Instead she focused on his words. ‘I haven’t worked since Philip became very ill near the end.’

‘Was it cancer?’

She nodded. ‘Yes—stomach cancer. For ages he thought he had an ulcer. By the time they realised it wasn’t, it was too late.’

‘But you didn’t pick it up?’

She shook her head. How could she have done? She wasn’t there; but David didn’t know that. She must find a time to tell him all that had happened, before he thought she was deceiving him. After all they had been through, she owed him honesty, even though Jamie made a useful smokescreen.

To think she had just finished telling Ann Blake that she couldn’t use her daughter to hide behind!

And Jamie, her son or not, needed her now. She might not be his mother, but she was the closest the poor child would ever get, and she fully intended to do her job well. ‘I must get home,’ she said now. ‘Jamie will be fretting.’

‘Of course.’

He seemed suddenly distant, and for a moment Emily felt a shocking sense of loss sweep through her.

Absurd.

Without giving herself time to think, she bade him goodnight and made her way out.

He was the last person she would want to see, David told himself disgustedly, but it didn’t stop him pulling up outside her cottage with a pot plant from the local garage and a bottle of plonk.

It was only a welcome to the area, after all, a simple gesture from an old friend.

And he might get to meet this child of hers, the child she had conceived not two years after their separation—before their divorce was final, even.

He fought down the bitter jealousy that surged in his veins, and concentrated instead on juggling the plant and bottle while he locked his car. Perhaps he should just go, he thought, take the stuff to the surgery in the morning and forget about invading her privacy—

‘Can I help you?’

A matronly woman stood in the open doorway, lit from behind by the welcoming glow that spilt from the cottage across the path to his feet. It didn’t quite reach him, and somehow stepping into the light suddenly assumed an almost mystical significance.

‘Is Emily at home?’ he asked, remaining where he was.

‘Who should I say it is?’ she responded, without inviting him in.

‘David—David Trevellyan.’

The door was immediately held wider, and a smile broke out on the woman’s face. ‘Come in, Dr Trevellyan. I’ll fetch her—she’s putting Jamie to bed.’

He stepped into the light, his heart easing even as he did so. ‘Could you find a home for these? Just a sort of house warming present.’

‘How kind.’ The warm hazel eyes twinkled like currants above plump cheeks that rose with her smile and squashed her eyes into merry slits. David found himself returning the smile and feeling grateful that Emily and her son had such a kindly soul caring for them.

‘Make yourself at home, Dr Trevellyan—I’ll just pop these in the kitchen and go and find Emily.’

He stood in the hallway while she bustled into the kitchen and then out again, hurrying up the stairs.

He heard a mumbled conversation overhead, then Emily appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘David?’

Was it his imagination, or did she sound breathless?

He tipped his head back and shielded his eyes from the overhead light. ‘Hi. I just wondered if you wanted to go out for that drink now—if Jamie’s settled.’

‘Oh.’ She looked flustered, her hands fluttering over her clothes. ‘I’m not really dressed for going out.’

‘That’s OK. The local isn’t smart; your jeans are fine.’

More than fine, if the tightening in his body was anything to go by.

‘Um—let me brush my hair and I’ll be down.’

He watched as she turned, the faded denim taut over the smooth curve of her bottom, and cursed softly under his breath.

He must be mad.

Emily felt sick with fright—or was it anticipation? Ridiculous. She brushed her hair until the roots protested, then dragged a scrape of colour over her lips and smudged them hastily together. That would do. It would have to.

Abandoning her brush, she ran down the stairs like an eager teenager.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I just need my coat.’

He held it for her, his fingers brushing her neck as he lifted her hair away from the collar in a gesture she remembered so well. A little shiver ran over her skin and, forcing a smile, she turned to him.

‘Shall we?’

He opened the door for her, closed it behind them and then settled her into the car before going round and sliding behind the wheel.

The inside of the car seemed suddenly terribly small and intimate, and her breathing seemed unnaturally loud.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked to fill the emptiness.

‘The Bull-remember it?’

She did—vividly. They had spent many a happy lunchtime there, sandwiched between long, lazy mornings in bed and long, equally lazy evenings in front of the fire at the cottage.

‘Has it changed?’

‘Not much. Nothing round here changes much. It gets a bit hectic in the summer, but at this time of year it’s mainly locals.’

They pulled up in the nearly deserted car park, and she followed him through the low doorway into the heavily beamed lounge that was empty except for a grizzled, thick-set man wiping down the bar.

‘Evening, George.’

‘Evening, Doctor. What’ll it be?’

‘I’ll have the usual—Emily?’

‘Dry white wine, please.’

George set the drinks on the bar and eyed her curiously.

‘This is Dr Thompson—she’s just joined the practice,’ David told him.

‘Pleased to meet you—you’ll cheer that place up no end,’ he said gruffly, and pushed a glass of wine towards her. ‘Here—have them on the house.’

She smiled, his welcome warming her. ‘Thank you. Cheers—your very good health.’

His rusty laugh crackled in the empty room. ‘Of course, you’ve got a vested interest in that, haven’t you? Keep the surgery empty.’

She smiled again. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that. Still, at least you won’t have to pretend to be ill to satisfy your curiosity.’

He laughed again as he headed for the other bar, and David steered her over to a table in the corner, tucked in behind the deep chimney breast where they had often sat during their honeymoon. It was too intimate, and she was very conscious of his nearness.

He lifted his glass, condensation beaded on the outside, fogging the pale beer. ‘Here’s to a long and happy partnership,’ he murmured.

His eyes were in shadow, but she sensed the intensity of his gaze. Was he talking about the practice? Or them? She didn’t dare ask.

She lifted her glass, dropping her eyes to the contents. Silently she drank, the chilled wine soothing her tight throat.

‘So,’ she said eventually, ‘tell me about Ann Blake and this affair.’

‘Ah.’ He set his glass down precisely in the centre of a beermat and squared it up with the edge of the table. The task seemed to require an inordinate amount of attention.

‘Richard Wellcome is a local farmer. He and his wife are patients of mine. His wife, Jenny, has MS and is in a pretty sorry way. She hasn’t had much in the way of remission, and I don’t think she will. She’s getting increasingly spastic—she’s on Baclofen to combat it, but it’s a bit of a juggling act because it makes her very sleepy, and she keeps dropping things. Last week it was a cup of tea. Luckily it wasn’t too hot or she could have had a nasty scald.’

‘Poor woman.’

‘Mmm. And Richard, of course, is having a hard time. The farm’s not doing too well, and he’s hiding the real situation from Jenny because he doesn’t want to worry her. What with one thing and another, I’m not surprised he’s having an affair.’

‘Do you condone it?’ Emily asked sharply.

He sighed. ‘Don’t be judgemental, Emily. Life’s hard. We take what ease we can. If Ann helps him to cope, then so be it.’

‘But her own marriage is in ruins as a result.’

‘Her marriage has been in ruins for years. Women don’t have affairs with other women’s husbands if everything’s rosy at home. She was ripe for the picking.’

‘And that justifies it?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

She felt anger stir her, an old, familiar anger remembered from their earlier fights. It shocked her, but she couldn’t help responding to it.

‘David, you can’t just accept it like that. You should encourage her to seek help, to go to Relate and find a solution—’

‘Why? I’m their doctor, not their priest.’

‘But you should treat the whole person.’

‘You’re assuming that infidelity is an illness. You can’t interfere in people’s lives, Emily. That’s not what you’re there for.’

‘But what about the child?’ she argued.

‘What about her? They’ll sort themselves out, one way or another.’

She let out her breath on a whoosh. ‘I can’t believe you’re that callous.’

‘I’m not callous,’ he reasoned. ‘I just know my limitations. Medically speaking, Richard Wellcome is the one with the need. He’s a depressive—and if Ann Blake acts as an antidepressant that helps him through his life, then who am I to take her away from him? Besides, if he can cope, then Jenny can stay at home, which is what she wants. She was born there; technically it’s her farm. Richard was employed by her father to work the farm once he became too ill to manage it any more. I think he feels that quite keenly.’

‘And if it’s going badly, that’s quite a responsibility.’

‘Exactly. It’s a hell of a coil, Emily. You’re better off having as little to do with it as possible.’ He tipped back his head and drained his glass, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Emily watched, transfixed. He set the glass down. ‘Another one?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I ought to be getting back; I’m quite tired.’

‘You’ve had a busy day,’ he said softly, and, helping her into her coat again, he ushered her out of the door.

They were silent on the journey back, and when he pulled up outside her cottage she reached immediately for the handle.

Her mouth, however, was on his side.

‘Coffee?’ she found herself asking.

‘In a minute.’

His hand on her shoulder turned her back towards him, and in the light from the porch she could see need glittering in his eyes.

She knew he was going to kiss her before he reached for her—before the warmth of his arms enfolded her against his chest, before the softness of his lips brushed against hers once, twice, before settling firmly against her mouth. One of them sighed, a ragged, broken sigh of remembrance, and then thoughts fled, lost in the heat that flared between them as their mouths met and melded, locked in a passion as old as time.

After an age he lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes dark. ‘You taste the same,’ he whispered wonderingly.

‘So do you.’

Her voice was fractured, scrapy. She eased away from him, needed room to order her thoughts.

‘Coffee, I think,’ he said, and his voice was ragged too.

She had forgotten her offer of coffee, but it was too late now to take it back.

They got out of the car and went in.