Читать книгу The Surgeon's Miracle - Caroline Anderson - Страница 7

THE dress was gorgeous, shot with navy and olive green so it looked like the sea on a stormy day, the colours changing as the light caught it, and by the time Amy had poured her into the dress, hitched up the front a little for decency and scooped her hair into a knot and put a necklace round her throat, no amount of reasoning with her pulse was going to make a blind bit of difference.

Amy stood back and stared at her, and shook her head slowly. ‘Wow.’

‘D’you think?’ Libby hitched the front up again and had her hand slapped for her pains.

‘Leave it. You’ve got gorgeous boobs, be proud of them. Stick them out and hold your head up—that’s better. Fabulous. You’ll knock them all dead.’

‘Knock them out, more like,’ she said, shuffling her bra—clearly no room for a minimiser in there with that neckline!—and biting her lip. ‘Are you sure it’s all right?’

But Amy just rolled her eyes and draped an exquisite oyster-pink silk and cashmere pashmina around her shoulders. ‘There. You can always cover your cleavage with this if it worries you. Don’t lose it, it cost a fortune and it’s my only real extravagance. And you can wear it tomorrow with the black. Let me see you in it?’

So Libby changed into her dearly loved and classic little black dress, the high scoop neck and on-the-knee hemline much more demure and discreet. The back dipped to a V just above her bra strap, and there was a tiny kick-pleat at the back to allow for movement, and she loved it. It was elegant, sophisticated and timeless—which was just as well because she’d had it for three years now and by her reckoning it still owed her a substantial amount of money. It was, however, a little more snug than it had been before Christmas, and she sucked in her stomach and sighed.

‘You’ve given me too much to eat,’ she said. ‘Or I have, for weeks and weeks. It’s too tight.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Amy said, standing back and eyeing her critically. ‘Very demure. Very sexy.’

‘It’s not meant to be sexy,’ she said, her eyes widening. ‘It’s meant to be respectable!’

‘It’s perfectly respectable.’

She gave up, not entirely reassured, but her time and her options were dwindling by the minute. ‘Good. Can I go now? I’ve got to get my jeans dry somehow so I can pack them in the morning. Apparently we’re leaving at six and I don’t finish work till five tomorrow, so I’ve got to wash my hair and pack tonight—all except for the things still in the washing machine. Oh, why aren’t I better organised? I really wanted my nice cream jumper but it won’t be dry, it takes ages.’

‘I’ve got a jumper you can borrow,’ Amy said, rummaging in her chest of drawers and pulling out a couple of clingy little scraps.

‘It’s only just April! I meant a jumper, Amy, not a second skin!’

‘You’ll be fine. Here. Take them anyway, they’ll suit you. You can always wear your coat if you’re cold.’

‘In the house?’

‘They’re bound to have heating, you’ll be fine. Go on, scoot. You’ve got things to do and you need a good night’s sleep or you’ll have bags under your eyes.’

Not a chance, she thought. There was no way she’d sleep. She was getting ridiculously excited, and when she walked onto the ward the next morning Andrew was there, lounging against the nursing station and chatting to Lucas’s parents. He looked up and met her eyes and smiled, and her heart turned over in her chest.

Ridiculously excited, she told herself, trying not to grin like an idiot, and she went to find the staff nurse to do handover and made a futile attempt to ignore his presence.

Andrew watched her turn away and busy herself, and resisted the temptation to cut the conversation short. Despite their encouragement and constant support of Lucas, his parents were naturally worried about their son, and he took the time to reassure them yet again before he gave in to the need to speak to Libby.

She was at the nurses’ station in the middle, talking to the staff nurse who’d been on since seven, and as he excused himself and crossed over to her she looked up, her smile lighting up her face and warming him like sunshine. He propped his arms on the counter and smiled back at her, glad it was between them because he was having trouble resisting the unexpected urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her.

Not a good move. He cleared his throat slightly.

‘Hi, there.’

‘Hi. How’s things?’ she asked, her voice music to his ears. ‘I hear Jacob’s improving. How did you get on with Michael?’

‘OK. It was absolutely straightforward. He can go home today once the physio’s got him up on crutches. I’ll see him in the fracture clinic next week for follow-up, but he should be fine. He was lucky.’

‘He was an idiot,’ she reminded him drily, and he chuckled.

‘True. And Jacob’s looking good, considering, so I should be able to get away reasonably promptly tonight. Are you all set?’ he added softly as the staff nurse turned away to answer the phone.

‘I am. All packed and ready. I washed my hair last night so I should be OK for six. Well, except that I haven’t got your mother a birthday present yet.’

‘You don’t have to do that! Just give her a card. She’ll be overwhelmed with presents and it’s the last thing she’d expect.’

‘Sure?’

‘I’m sure. Anyway, we need to head off as soon as we can. Will you have time to get ready?’

‘I should. Do you want me to change before we go, then, or are we changing there?’

‘Change before we go,’ he advised, trying not to sniff for the scent of apples in her hair. ‘The place’ll be in chaos and it’ll be easier. Tell me your address and I’ll pick you up as soon after six as I can get to you.’

‘Fourteen Elm Grove,’ she said. ‘It’s off Wood Farm Drive, but it’s sort of buried. I can give you directions.’

‘No, I’ll find it. Postcode?’ he asked, keying the information into his BlackBerry, and she gave him the code. ‘OK. The sat-nav should do it, but you’d better give me your phone number in case it fails. It has been known.’

‘Surely not,’ she said with a teasing smile, and he felt a kick in his gut.

No strings? Who was he kidding?

It was going to be an interesting weekend…

The day was chaos.

After she’d seen Michael and his parents to discuss his discharge, there were several other post-op patients who needed her attention, and of course there was Lucas. He was desperate to show off his new-found skills with the crutches, and as Amy had been up to the ward to equip Michael with his own set and show him how to use them, they were busy competing, the accident clearly not having slowed Michael down at all.

She stopped them before there was another accident, threatened to confiscate the crutches from Lucas, saw Michael off with his paperwork, then had to deal with an IV crisis in a tearful, wriggling three-year-old, and by the time she’d handed over and got away, it was nearly five-thirty. So much for her plans to slip off early!

She raced home, ripped off her uniform and had the quickest shower on record, skimmed the lightest of make-up onto her face, brushed her hair and pulled on her dress as the doorbell rang just after six. She wriggled the zip up and then, grabbing her shoes and evening bag, she ran downstairs and threw open the door, hardly pausing to greet him as she ran back into the living room, hopping on one foot as she put her shoes on on the move.

‘Sorry, I’m on the drag, I couldn’t get away,’ she said breathlessly over her shoulder, then turned and stopped talking, because he was standing there behind her, looking utterly, devastatingly gorgeous in his DJ, the dress shirt with its immaculate black bow-tie blinding white against his skin, his jaw freshly shaved, his hair—damp?

‘Either you have far too much gel in your hair or it’s still wet,’ she pointed out unnecessarily, and he gave a soft grunt of laughter.

‘I showered and changed at the hospital or I wouldn’t be here now,’ he said wryly. ‘I was hoping to get away early, but you know what it’s like. Are you all packed and ready?’

She laughed with him. ‘Sort of. Hang on.’ She rummaged in her case, came up with the perfume and spritzed herself lightly, then threw it back into the case and zipped the lid. ‘Now I’m ready,’ she said with a slightly nervous grin. ‘Will I do, or will I disgrace you?’

She gave a self-conscious twirl, and he ran his eyes over her. ‘No, you won’t disgrace me,’ he said softly with an odd note in his voice. ‘Turn around, your zip’s not quite up.’ And she felt his fingers cool against her heated skin as he pulled the zip up the last half-inch and fastened the hook, then smoothed it with his hand and stepped back.

‘All done,’ he said, and she tugged it straight and turned to pick up her coat.

‘Oh, Kitty!’ she wailed. ‘You rascal—you can see why I wear black,’ she added drily to Andrew, and he chuckled, eased the black cat off her coat, gave it a shake to remove the hair and held it out for her, settling it solicitously on her shoulders, and she wondered if she’d imagined his hands lingering for the tiniest moment.

Her shoulders tingling, she reached for her case, but he was there first, leaving her to scoop up her handbag and keys, then she followed him out of the door.

‘So who feeds the cat while you’re away?’ he asked, opening the car door for her and tucking her coat in.

‘Oh, I’ve got an automatic thingie. I’ve set it.’

‘In which minute?’ he asked with a chuckle, then slid behind the wheel and threw her a smile. ‘You look lovely, by the way,’ he added softly, making her heart hiccup and her insides tighten with anticipation. ‘Much better than the uniform.’

‘Well, that wouldn’t be hard. It’s a bit tight, though. I haven’t worn it since before Christmas—I must have been staving off the cold a bit too enthusiastically,’ she said with a rueful smile, but he shook his head.

‘It’s perfect. You look very convincing.’

Convincing. Of course. That was what this was all about, and she’d better not forget it. He’d only invited her as an afterthought, and she needed to keep that in mind. This was not, repeat not, a date. She was there to be convincing, and so convincing she’d be. End of. She flashed him a bright smile. ‘Well, that’s a relief! I won’t be pitched out on my ear as a fraud, at least.’

They shared the smile as he started the engine and headed out into the countryside. She had no idea where they were going. Somewhere near Southwold? She’d meant to look it up on the internet to see if she could find the address of the Ashenden pile, as Amy called it, but she simply hadn’t had time. She hadn’t had time to draw breath, really, since yesterday morning, and as she sank back into the soft but supportive leather seat, she realised just how tired she was.

‘All right?’

‘Yes—it’s just been a busy day. Well, busy week, really. I’m glad it’s a sit-down formal dinner, because I don’t think my feet would cope with standing up all evening in these ridiculous heels after a day like today.’

He peered across at the footwell in the dark. ‘Are they ridiculous? I thought they looked rather good.’

He did? ‘Thank you—but looking good and feeling good aren’t the same thing,’ she explained ruefully, and his lips twitched.

‘No, I can imagine. I’ve only worn high heels once, and it was excruciating.’

She shifted in the seat, turning to face him, struggling to hold down her incredulous laughter. ‘You’ve worn high heels?’

He grinned. ‘And a dress. It’s amazing what my brother can persuade me to do for charity,’ he said drily.

That piqued her interest—that and the thought of Andrew in a dress and heels. ‘Any particular one?’

‘Meningococcal disease. He had it as a teenager and could have lost his limbs, but he was lucky and he’s very aware of that, so now he fundraises for research—well, the whole family do, he makes sure of it. The house and gardens are open to the public alternate weekends during the summer and they hold events in the park and split the proceeds between the charities and the estate.’

‘Gosh, that sounds like a lot of hard work.’

‘It is. Will’s the estate manager, so he just incorporates it into his workload, and Mum oversees the garden and the house, but it’s pretty much a full-time job for them keeping the place ticking over. And one day it’ll be my job.’

She detected a note of resignation in his voice and tipped her head on one side enquiringly. ‘You don’t sound thrilled.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not. I have a job, in case you haven’t noticed, but I’m the oldest, so I get the short straw. Not for a while, though. Dad’s only sixty-three and he’s as fit as a flea, so between them hopefully they’ll struggle on for a good few years yet.’

‘I take it your brother will be there this weekend?’

‘Will? Oh, yes. And his wife Sally. She’s their events manager at the moment, but she’ll be off for the summer on maternity leave, which should make life interesting.’

‘I’m sure. Will they cope without her?’

He chuckled. ‘I have no idea, but I’m not volunteering, I can assure you. I have quite enough to do.’

‘I imagine you do. Does your brother know you’re bringing me, by the way?’

He turned towards her, and in the dim light she could see his eyebrow twitch. ‘As in, did I tell him I’m bringing a girl? Yes. Did I mention why? No.’

She smiled at that. ‘Won’t he think it’s odd?’

‘That I have a social life? No. Should he?’

‘No, of course not, but I didn’t mean that.’ She shrugged. ‘I meant—I don’t know—that none of them have ever heard of me. Won’t there be a lot of speculation? Most people wouldn’t turn up for their mother’s sixtieth birthday with a total stranger in tow.’

‘They would if they had my mother,’ he said drily, making her laugh. ‘And anyway, speculation is the general idea, isn’t it?’

‘Probably.’ She rested her head back and looked across at him. ‘Tell me about your mother, I’m sure she can’t be that bad,’ she said, and listened to him talking about his parents and his childhood with great affection. They were obviously a close-knit and loving family, and she envied them that. Her father was dead, her mother was remarried and lived in blissful penury in Ireland with her artist husband, and she and her married elder sister hardly ever spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, but with seven years and several hundred miles between them, they had little in common, and the last time she’d seen her had been at a great-aunt’s funeral a few months ago—a gathering that had opened a potentially devastating can of worms.

‘So that’s us. My father, my mother, me, my brother and his wife and a whole horde of cats and dogs and horses and cattle and deer—I take it you’re all right with dogs, by the way? We have quite a few.’

She pulled herself back to the present and put the troubling thoughts aside. ‘I’m fine with dogs. I’d have one if I wasn’t at work all day.’

‘Ditto. Not to mention half the night.’

‘Mmm. So tell me about Jacob. I know you’re happier with him now but did you get last night off?’

He laughed and scrubbed his hand around the back of his neck. ‘Sort of. His left leg was swelling a bit yesterday—that was why they paged me. They thought he might be getting compartment syndrome, but nothing came of it, and I popped in before I went home last night and I went in again early this morning and it seems to have settled. He’s OK—well, orthopaedic-wise, anyway, for the moment. The head injury’s still a bit of a worry and he might need further surgery later on his legs and pelvis if he makes it, but at least that’s looking increasingly likely, thank goodness.’

‘So will you have to go back over the weekend?’ she asked, wondering whether he would abandon her to the mercy of his mother and the dowagers, or take her back to Audley with him, but he was shaking his head.

‘No, I hope not. This leg is the only critical issue I can see that might involve me, so I might take a quick run back tomorrow to check him, but the team are pretty good and he was looking stable when I left.’

He turned his head and she caught the flash of teeth as he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you. I’ll leave you with Will, if I have to dash off. He’ll look after you.’

‘I’ll look forward to meeting him. He sounds interesting. ’

‘He is, but I hope you’re tough. He’s got a wicked sense of humour and he’s a bit of a tease, and I don’t suppose for a moment he’ll be subtle. Stand by to be quizzed.’

‘I’m sure I’ll cope,’ she said drily. ‘I manage the boys on the ward.’

That made him laugh, and as they turned off the road and rattled over a cattle grid, he threw her a grin. ‘Ready for this?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, although she wasn’t really sure. Not now she knew a little more about them and the scale of the estate. It was sounding grander by the minute. ‘What do I call your mother?’ she asked as an afterthought.

‘Jane—and my father’s Tony.’

Or Lord Ashenden. Or should it be Sir Tony? Sir Anthony? She had no idea. Was he a lord? An earl? A baron? A marquis?

The titles were confusing, the whole aristocratic hierarchy a mystery to her, and she resolved to find out more about it. Not that it would be necessary to know, after this weekend, of course, because it would never affect her again. She reminded herself of that as they pulled up in what looked like the courtyard of an old stable block and he cut the engine. So far, so good, she thought, looking around in the gloom. It didn’t look too outrageously grand—except of course this was the back. The front was probably altogether different.

By the time she’d fumbled with the catch on her seat belt, the door was open and he was helping her out. ‘Watch where you walk, it can be a bit uneven on the cobbles and you don’t want to fall off your stilts and wring your ankle.’

‘What about our cases?’

‘I’ll get them later, unless you want anything from yours now?’ he said, and when she shook her head, he ushered her towards a well-lit doorway with a firm, steadying hand on her back.

‘We’ll see if Will and Sally are still here—they’ve got the east wing,’ he said, and she just about stopped her jaw dropping. The east wing? Good grief! Well, she’d known it was big, but for some reason it was only just starting to sink in how big, and she realised her whole house would probably fit into one of the stables!

‘Shop!’ he yelled, banging on the door, and it swung in to reveal a younger version of him, slightly taller, identical ice-blue eyes mocking as he scanned his brother’s face.

‘You’re cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, well, some of us have to go to work. And it’s not as if you’re in there already.’

‘I have been. I came back to check the dog and ring you. Ma was starting to panic. Hi, you must be Libby,’ he said, turning the full force of his charm on her. ‘Come on in. I’m Will,’ he said, and shook her hand firmly. He was looking intrigued and curious and welcoming all at once, and she smiled back, relishing the strength of his grip and utterly charmed by his smile and frank, assessing eyes—eyes just like his brother’s.

‘Hello, Will. It’s good to meet you. Andrew’s just been telling me a bit about you.’

‘It’ll all be lies,’ he said with a grin. ‘So—how come my brother’s failed to mention you? Is he keeping you a deep, dark secret from Ma?’

She chuckled. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ she said lightly, and he laughed.

‘You don’t need to. Discreet isn’t the word—getting information out of him is like getting blood out of a stone,’ he said with a grin, and then stepped aside to let a great, shaggy grey dog through. ‘This is Lara. Are you all right with dogs?’

‘I’m fine with dogs. Hello, Lara. Aren’t you gorgeous?’

‘No, she’s a pain,’ Will said affectionately as the lurcher thrashed her long, skinny tail against his leg and slurped Libby’s hand. ‘She’s a terrible thief, so I’ve cleverly trained her to steal my father’s newspapers every morning, but the downside is if we leave anything on the worktop, she eats it.’

Libby laughed and rubbed the dog’s head. ‘Oh, darling, are you a naughty girl?’ she murmured, and Lara slurped her again with her tongue.

‘You’d better believe it,’ Andrew said drily, then sighed. ‘Come on, then, I suppose we ought to go and get this over with. Where’s Sally?’

‘In the kitchen trying to stop Ma interfering with the caterers. Come on, let’s go and find them and then the birthday girl can make her grand entrance.’

Leaving the mournful Lara on the other side of a door, Will ushered them down a corridor into what was obviously the main part of the house, and then Andrew took her coat, putting it on a hook beside his as they went through into a huge and beautifully equipped kitchen and a scene of organised pandemonium.

‘Andrew, darling! At last—I thought you were going to make some weak excuse about work like you usually do!’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he teased. He bent his head and kissed his mother’s cheek, hugging her gently, and then turned and drew Libby forward.

‘Mum, this is Libby Tate. Libby, my mother, Jane.’

Lady Ashenden was elegant, beautifully groomed and she looked a little flustered. Her dark hair was threaded with silver, swept up into a smooth pleat—unlike Libby’s own which was twisted up and skewered more or less in place with faux-ivory pins—and she realised that Andrew and Will both had her eyes.

Piercing eyes, searching, which turned on her and seemed, to Libby’s relief, to like what they saw, because she embraced her warmly and kissed her cheeks. ‘Libby, welcome to Ashenden. This is Sally, my daughter-in-law. ’

Sally was small, obviously pregnant and had the same friendly openness as Will. She buzzed Libby’s cheek and grinned. ‘Hi, there. Welcome to the madhouse. I’ll look forward to catching up with you later, but in the meantime, Jane, isn’t it time we went up?’

‘I’m sure it is. They don’t need us in here fussing and you’ve done enough, darling. Let’s leave them to it, I’m sure they can cope without us.’

And Jane turned away from her, missing the eyerolling and laughter that passed between her and Will, and the intimate smile which followed as Will drew the pregnant woman up against his side and hugged her tenderly. They were obviously very much in love, Libby thought, and felt a wash of restless longing. If only there was someone in her life who felt like that about her, but even if there was, there would be no guarantee they’d have Will and Sally’s happy ending.

The question-mark hanging over her future loomed again, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it, and as they left the kitchen and walked along a magnificent curved hallway with tall, elegant windows overlooking the floodlit front of the house, she was brought firmly back to the here and now as the scale of the house began to register.

Amy hadn’t been exaggerating, Libby thought. It really was a stately home—a vast, magnificent, Palladian country house, the centre part built in a crescent around a carriage-sweep at the front of the house, and as they reached the entrance hall, bracketed by broad, sweeping stairs that led up towards an ornate domed ceiling soaring far above them, Jane led them across a rug that would no doubt have been priceless if it hadn’t been worn thin by the passage of generations, and through an open doorway.

As soon as they entered the drawing room—jaw-dropping in its proportions and dripping with antiques and old masters—they were swept into a round of introductions and fleeting, meaningless conversations. They lost Sally and Will somewhere along the way, and then Andrew grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, steered her into a quiet corner and gave her a rueful smile.

‘Sorry, it’s a bit full on if you’re not used to it.’

Full on? She was utterly out of her depth! ‘I thought it was just dinner?’ she murmured, and he laughed.

‘It is dinner, but there’s nothing just about it. Dinner will be about forty people, and tomorrow will be a couple of hundred, I expect. Possibly more. And she’ll know every last one of them and the names of all their children and dogs and horses—she’s a legend.’

‘And she wants to see you married.’

‘Mmm. All ready to take over this crumbling old heap of dry rot.’

‘Are you whingeing about the ancestral home again, bro’?’ Will murmured from behind them, and he gave a soft snort and turned to him.

‘Would I? Thankfully they’re both looking well, so I don’t have to worry about it for donkey’s years. Have you got a drink?’

‘No, but I’ll have champagne, if you’re offering, and I expect Sally’ll have some elderflower cordial. Don’t worry about Libby, I’ll entertain her while you’re gone.’

Libby met Will’s twinkling eyes as Andrew walked away to get the drinks. ‘So, tell me about this crumbling old heap of dry rot. Does he really hate it?’ she said to him, and he chuckled.

‘Oh, he loves it to bits, really, but he thinks it should be mine, since I run it. The law of primogeniture offends his sense of right and wrong.’

‘And yours?’

He shrugged casually. ‘It’s just one of those things, isn’t it? If you split the estate with every generation, you end up with nothing left—and if you ask him about it, he’ll tell you we’re just caretakers, which is right. Glorified janitors. But he’s welcome to the title—and frankly he’s welcome to the house. The east wing is much nicer—I still get to enjoy the grounds, but it’s cosier than the house, and the heating bills aren’t quite as stratospheric, and I can walk to work. And whatever he’s told you, I only run the estate because I’m too lazy to do anything else!’

They were laughing as Andrew returned, a ripple of interest following him as the single girls monitored his progress. Or was it Will they were interested in? She couldn’t blame them. Both men were strikingly good-looking and she felt completely overshadowed in the glittering crowd of slender, elegant women with their bright, witty banter and designer dresses.

Until Sally came over a moment later, short and round and utterly charming, and smiled at her and gave her a hug.

‘Finally I get to meet you properly! This is such fun, I didn’t know my brother-in-law had a deep, dark secret.’

Andrew rolled his eyes. ‘Just because I don’t gossip.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sally said, and took her by the arm mischievously. ‘So—tell all. I gather you’re colleagues. That must be tricky. What’s he like to work with, because his brother’s a nightmare—’

‘I am not!’

‘You are. You’re hopelessly disorganised.’

Will grinned. ‘That’s why I employed you.’

‘No, it’s why you married me. You were terrified I’d leg it and you wouldn’t find anyone else who could cope with your filing system.’

‘It’s a good system!’

‘It’s a collection of piles on the floor, William!’ she corrected with a grin, and Libby laughed.

‘Sounds rather like my desk,’ she said with a smile at Will, then turned back to Sally. ‘So what do you actually do? Andrew said something about being events manager.’

‘Oh, that’s just a fancy title for doing anything and everything. I’m just a dogsbody,’ she grumbled cheerfully, but Will shook his head.

‘She’s actually my PA as well, and she helps me run the charity side of things, too,’ Will said. ‘We’d be lost without her—will be lost when she has the baby, but it’s not why I married her. I married her because I struggle to boil water and she’s a darned good cook.’

And rather more than that, Libby wouldn’t mind guessing, hearing the pride in his voice and seeing the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at Sally, and yet again, she felt a twinge of envy.

If only Andrew would look at her like that—would ever, in the future, look at her like that—but he wouldn’t. Why would he? Their worlds were light-years apart. He’d only invited her here this weekend as an afterthought. He’d never noticed her before, never singled her out, never been anything but the perfect colleague. She was only here because he needed a shield, and he’d made that perfectly clear.

Not that she needed to worry. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship either at the moment, with him or with anybody else, and she’d do well to remember that fact.