Читать книгу A Gentle Giant - Caroline Anderson - Страница 4

IT WAS a stone house, painted white like all the others, but large in comparison with its neighbours. Flowering shrubs nestled against the garden walls, their leaves still damp after the rain, and the intoxicating fragrance of night-scented stocks and nicotiana drifted on the mild evening air.

Jamie paused, her hand on the knocker, and listened to the stillness. She could hear the steady throb of a distant fishing boat, and the harsh cries of the gulls wheeling at the stern as the boat chugged steadily up the loch. Nearer to hand she caught the intermittent laugh of a little child, and the happy sound brought a soft smile to her lips.

It was so different from the city—so different, and so clean! No noisy crowds, no overflowing litterbins and gangs of youths hanging around every street corner. This small community, snuggled down in the fold of the land with the sea at its front and the mountains at its back, was a place where people worked hard and honestly. It looked clean and decent, a new beginning—and she was more than ready for it.

She straightened her skirt, smoothed her honey-gold curls into some semblance of order and drew a deep, sweet-smelling breath of fresh sea air. The smile still lingering around her soft blue eyes, Jamie turned back to the door and banged on the knocker. She heard the sound reverberate round the hall, and then quick footsteps approached.

‘Hello, there—come away in, would you, I’m just on the phone. Is it Dr Buchanan you’d be after?’

Jamie nodded agreement at the pleasant, middle-aged woman. That’s right—I’m——’

‘You’ll find him in the room on the left at the end—go on through, hen. I must get back to the phone. Can you manage?’

‘Of course,’ Jamie said softly to the woman’s retreating back, and headed quietly down the hall.

‘On the left,’ she murmured to herself, and, just as she reached the end of the corridor, a tiny child, vest flapping round her chubby legs, came barrelling round the corner, shrieking with laughter. A diminutive cherub, Jamie thought as the baby giggled again and waddled past her, her glossy black curls bouncing around her flushed cheeks.

‘I’m going to get you!’ growled a deep voice, and a huge bear of a man on hands and knees came charging round the corner snarling and snapping his teeth, and ground to a halt at Jamie’s feet. He looked up, his head level with her thighs, and gave a quiet groan.

‘Ah—er—hello!’ He stood up, brushing off his knees, and as he straightened, Jamie took a step back. He was huge! At five foot six, Jamie was used to men a little taller than her, although in high heels she could look many of her male colleagues in the eye. But this man! She didn’t even reach the dark-shadowed chin that jutted above her! Nor was he simply tall. He was broad, solid and vigorously masculine to boot.

He was also acutely embarrassed.

‘Sorry about that,’ he mumbled, a dull flush mounting his craggy cheeks. ‘Let me just catch the wee scamp and I’ll be with you. Chloe? Come here, darling——’

He squeezed past her and strode down the corridor. There was a delighted shriek, and the sound of an enormous raspberry, and then the man reappeared, apologising again. ‘That’s better; Mrs H has got her now. Come on in to the surgery.’ He led her down the corridor to the room opposite the one from which he had emerged, and opened the door for her, ushering her in with a hand on the small of her back.

It was impossible to go through the door without brushing against him, and, as she did so, Jamie felt the solidity of his body with a sensation of shock. He was built like granite, huge and unyielding, but unlike granite he radiated warmth and energy.

She felt at once safe and threatened, and for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. All she knew was that he had a physical presence, unrelated to his size, that something deep inside her had recognised, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

She took a deep breath and looked around, and was immediately captivated by her surroundings. The surgery was painted white, the plain walls hung with bold pencil drawings, delicate watercolours and children’s daubs in equal proportion. Mixed in among the colourful display were the more usual posters about breastfeeding and smoking. One of the amateurish paintings caught her eye.

In it a bright and vigorous sun shone cheerfully on a picture-book cottage, and a raggy tortoiseshell cat perched on the wall outside. ‘Dear Dr Rob,’ the straggling inscription read, ‘I’m better now. I love you. Trudy.’

‘Who’s Trudy?’ she asked with a smile.

She had thought he was ugly, has face too rugged for good looks, his heavy brows and battered nose no adornment to the rough-hewn plains and valleys of his cheeks above the jutting jaw. Then he smiled, and the sun lit up his midnight eyes and scattered in a million rays from the corners, and the brackets round his mouth deepened as a slow chuckle rose from his chest. Goodness, she thought, why ever did I think he was ugly? She had to force herself to take a breath.

‘A young fan,’ he admitted gently. ‘A real treasure, bless her.’

He closed the door and moved round behind the vast mahogany desk. ‘Take a seat. What can I do for you?’

She continued to stand, the lingering traces of a smile touching her eyes, and held out her hand. ‘I’m Jamie Cameron—I believe you’re expecting me.’

An expression of puzzlement crossed his face, and then he let out his breath on a harsh rush of disbelief.

‘Who?’

Her smile slipped, and she retrieved her hand from the air over his desk and tucked it into her jacket pocket. ‘Jamie Cameron. You were expecting me?’

‘No—that is, I was expecting a Dr Cameron, but I certainly wasn’t expecting you!’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re a woman,’ he said accusingly.

She glanced down at herself and blinked. ‘So I am.

How astonishing!’

He glowered at her.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘A problem?’ he growled. ‘Are you joking?’

She lost the last of her smile. ‘Dr Buchanan, I can’t pretend to understand, but I can assure you I have in my bag a letter from you asking me to join you in the practice, initially for a trial period——’

‘Not you,’ he insisted. ‘There must be some mistake. Perhaps there were two candidates—Janie and Jamie are very similar——’

‘So they might be, but I’m Jamie, with an “m”—you know, for monkey?’

‘Not nuts?’ he said with an unexpected touch of humour.

Her lips twitched. ‘Not until I got here!’

His eyes swept her fleetingly, as if to check that she was indeed a woman, and he dropped heavily into his chair with a sigh. He muttered something under his breath that she pretended not to hear, and then he shot back the chair and strode over to the filing cabinet.

Yanking out a file, he returned to the desk and slapped the file down amid the papers that littered its surface. Several of them drifted off the edge of the desk and she bent to retrieve them. His finger traced down the application form to the M/F question, and stabbed the circled F viciously.

‘Oh, God, bloody hell. Why didn’t I see it before?’ he said bitterly.

She straightened up and glanced round at the chaos. ‘Perhaps because you were rushed off your feet and barely able to cope?’ she suggested gently.

‘More than likely,’ he muttered brusquely. ‘That’s why I wasn’t at the interview. Damn! Another wait. Oh, well, it can’t be helped——’

‘Wait? What are you talking about?’

He slapped the file shut and pushed away from the desk, propping his huge feet on the edge. ‘You can’t stay. Surely you can see that?’

She shook her head. Maybe the ten-hour drive had affected her mind, but she didn’t think so. ‘I don’t see that at all. I’m perfectly qualified to do the job!’

He cranked an eyebrow. ‘On paper, maybe.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Tell me, Dr Buchanan, how many suitable applicants did you have?’

He sighed and ran his hand through the tangle of black locks that fell forward over his brow. ‘Only you,’ he admitted reluctantly, but he met her eyes frankly. ‘You were the only suitably qualified applicant stupid enough to want to work out here in the wilds of nowhere who had enough money to invest in the practice and no overriding need to escape from the world. That’s why you were offered the job. That, and because I thought with a name like yours you would be a Scotsman with some understanding of the country.’

‘And would you have put my application forward if you’d realised I was a woman?’ she asked quietly.

He met her eye without a qualm. ‘No way. This is no place for a girl.’

‘Rubbish! Lots of women live out here quite happily!’ She stressed the word ‘women’ slightly but deliberately. His gaze flicked over her, and returned to her eyes.

‘They’re raised to it. You aren’t. You belong in the city, Dr Cameron, not the wilds of Scotland. You aren’t safe here.’

She gave a harsh, bitter laugh. ‘Dr Buchanan, I did my GP trainee year in an inner-city practice. In one month alone my flat was burgled three times and I was mugged and almost raped while I was making a night visit. You call that safe?’

He gave her a level look. There are different types of safety. Up here, you get into difficulties in the snow and good men are going to risk their lives to help you.’

‘And they wouldn’t help you? What if you got stuck in the snow?’

‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Superman, eh?’ She snorted. ‘God deliver me from arrogant male chauvinists!’

‘If I have my way, He will,’ Dr Buchanan muttered, reaching for the phone. Two seconds later he slammed the receiver back down and growled something unintelligible.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sunday,’ he said succinctly. ‘There’ll be nobody there.’ He glared at her for a moment or two, and then, as if he had made up his mind about something, he unfolded his long body and stood up. ‘I’ve got two calls to make. You might as well come with me, then you’ll get some idea of what we’re up against. Perhaps it’ll put you off.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she muttered.

His craggy brows shot up. ‘What?’

‘I said that will be very nice.’ Ignoring her pounding head and the crick in her back from the long day behind the wheel, she rose calmly to her feet and followed him. He went into an office that was marginally more chaotic than the surgery, and retrieved two sets of notes from the wall of patient files, then picking up a battered old medical bag in one hand and his coat in the other, he held the door for her.

They met Mrs H in the hall, the dark-haired moppet in her arms. ‘Another call for you, Doctor. Trudy’s got a query again. I said you’d pop in and have a look.’

He dropped a kiss on the baby’s head, tousled the soft curls and went back into the surgery. When he emerged, he gave Jamie a thoughtful look. ‘Have you arranged accommodation yet?’

She shook her head. ‘I thought I’d book into the pub until I’d found somewhere to rent——’

Mrs ? tutted disapprovingly, and Dr Buchanan turned to the housekeeper. ‘Mrs Harrison, Dr Cameron will be staying the night. I wonder if you could make up a bed for her in the spare room? I’ll take the phone—contact me if any more calls come through.’

With that he kissed the baby again, opened the front door and ushered Jamie out into the still evening. She breathed in the heady scent of the flowers, and followed him to a battered old Land Rover standing in the drive.

‘Why do you feel the need to control people?’ she asked loudly as they roared off down the road in a great cloud of diesel fumes.

He looked puzzled. ‘Control who?’ he yelled.

‘Me! I would have been quite happy in the pub, but you obviously have this absurd moralistic and chauvinistic attitude towards women——’

‘It’s shut.’

‘What?’

‘The pub. It’s shut. Sunday. With the best will in the world you couldn’t have stayed there tonight, and anyway they don’t do accommodation.’

‘Well, I could have found a guest house——’

‘No chance. It’s September.’

She gave an exasperated sigh and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. ‘Would you care to elaborate?’

He shot her a grin. ‘Sure. Shooting season. The place is overrun with guns.’

‘Oh.’ Suitably chastened, she fell silent for a while, and then her professional curiosity got the better of her. ‘Who are you going to visit?’

‘Elderly woman who’s had a fall and may have a fracture, and a woman who thinks she’s in labour prematurely.’

‘And Trudy.’

‘Aye, and Trudy,’ he said softly—so softly that she wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been watching him.

‘Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted.

A whole series of emotions played across his face, and then he sighed. ‘She’s eight. She got glomerulo-nephritis from a neglected strep throat, and ended up with chronic renal failure. To make matters worse her mother’s disabled. It made Trudy’s dialysis difficult, because Mum can’t drive and they can’t afford a home dialysis unit. She’s missed so much school, and become so exhausted with all the travelling, that they’ve switched her to CAPD—continuous ambulatory peritoneal dialysis. So far she’s doing really well, but every now and then she gets a touch of peritonitis and we all panic for a bit until it settles down.’

‘Isn’t she very young for that? I mean, changing the fluid all the time and so on—does her mother do it for her?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Trudy virtually runs the house, and all her CAPD procedure is handled by her. Her mother’s always there, but I get the feeling Trudy is the one who does the bulk of it. She’s so gutsy, it makes you weep.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh, and flashed her a grin. ‘She’s a great kid, but what she needs is a transplant.’

‘What about one of her family donating a kidney?’ Jamie asked. ‘If it was my child, I wouldn’t hesitate. I assume no one is suitable?’

‘There’s only her mother, and she’s got MS. It makes her a rather unsuitable donor!’

‘Oh, good grief, the poor child!’

‘Mmm. Exactly.’

They travelled in silence for a while, each absorbed in thoughts, and Jamie was able to look at her surroundings. Dusk was falling as they approached a lonely cottage on a tiny, winding track.

He braked to a halt outside the cottage and jumped out. ‘You might as well come in,’ he said briskly, and went inside. She followed him slowly, her legs stiffening up after the long day, and found him crouched on the floor in front of a frail little lady, her tiny wrist lying oddly in his great hand.

Jamie noticed that it had the classic ‘dinner-fork’ appearance of a Colles’ fracture.

‘You’ve done it again, my darling, haven’t you?’ he said softly, one finger lightly brushing the back of her gnarled hand. ‘You’ll have to go to the hospital for an X-ray, and then they’ll set it for you and put it in plaster.’

‘I thought you’d say that, so I packed a bag and arranged for my neighbour to feed the cats. Do I have to go? I hate that place, it’s so noisy. Can’t you set it, Doctor?’

‘Not really, my love. You’d be better off in the hospital, truly. I’ll put a splint on it so it doesn’t hurt you, and then we’ll call the ambulance and they can come and get you.’ He laid her hand gently back in her lap, and stood up, his head bowed to clear the low ceiling. ‘I tell you what, I’ll do a deal with you. You promise not to do this again, and I’ll send you to the cottage hospital instead of Fort William. How’s that?’ he said with a wink, and the woman laughed.

‘I’ll do my best just for you, you handsome devil!’

He gave a cheeky grin. ‘That’s what all the ladies tell me!’

While he went out to the Land Rover for the splint and then phoned the hospital, Jamie introduced herself and admired the patchwork that was sticking out of a basket in the corner.

‘I do them all the time—well, with no television there’s not a lot to keep me out of mischief——’

‘They’ll be here in a minute. That’ll keep you out of mischief for a day or so. Let’s get this splint on.’

Jamie watched as he dealt tenderly with the broken limb. For such a big man he was incredibly gentle, his large hands surprisingly deft. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

She was caught staring, of course. He lifted his head and met her eyes and an eyebrow quirked mockingly at her.

‘Never seen a splint put on?’ he ribbed gently, and she flushed.

‘Of course I have!’ she muttered defensively, and he laughed.

‘Of course. There you are, Mrs McKay. All done.’

A few moments later the ambulance arrived to take her to the cottage hospital, and they set off again.

‘Where to now?’

‘Mrs Reeve—baby’s not due until the middle of October, but she’s had a show and the odd twinge. I said I’d look in, and luckily it’s not far away, then it’s back to Trudy.’

A short while later they turned off the main road on to a bumpy farm track, and bounced and jostled along for about a mile before reaching the isolated croft at the end.

‘What a lovely place to live!’ she exclaimed, gazing round at the broad swaths of heather and grass dotted with sheep and bathed with gold by the slanting rays of evening sun.

‘You think so? Of course it’s very pretty in September, but in January it’s quite different. They can be cut off for weeks at a time.’

He was only trying to put her off, she realised, so she ignored his comment.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Only if you promise not to stare,’ he told her, and she blushed again.

‘I wasn’t staring. There was nothing else to look at!’

He grinned. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just not used to being watched all the time. Of course you can come in.’

He led the way, introducing her to Mr Reeve, a tall, solid young man in his late twenties.

‘I expect you’ll want to wash your hands,’ he said to Rob, and the doctor went over to the sink in the corner of the living-room-cum-kitchen, stripped off his coat and scrubbed thoroughly.

The shepherd handed him a towel, and then opened a door. ‘Josie’s in bed,’ he told them, and they followed him out to the back of the little single-storey cottage. ‘Doctor’s here, hen,’ he said gently, and the woman turned her head and smiled sleepily, pushing herself into a sitting position.

‘Sorry, Doctor, I dozed off. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to call you out—it’s probably nothing, but I just felt I ought to check.’

He smiled reassuringly. ‘That’s what I’m here for, Mrs Reeve. Let’s have a look, can I?’

The woman eased back down the bed, and he pulled back the covers and felt her abdomen all over, his huge hands all but covering it.

‘How often are the contractions?’

‘Half an hour or so—nothing very bad, but they were stronger than the others, the practice ones you told me about—oh, there’s one starting!’

He kept his hands still, and then nodded. ‘I’m fairly sure they’re still just the Braxton-Hicks, but if I can just take a look we’ll be sure. What was the show like?’

‘Just a slight pink stain—nothing much, but I didn’t know what to expect.’

‘More than that, probably, but not everybody has one.’ He flipped open his bag, pulled on a pair of gloves and examined her deftly while her husband shifted awkwardly near the door. Jamie smiled at him.

‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’ she said quietly.

He seemed relieved to be given something else to focus on. ‘Aye, we love it. Couldn’t live anywhere else. Can’t stand the city.’

She grinned. ‘Neither can I—dirty, stinking place. Give me the country any day of the week.’

She turned back to Mrs Reeve, who was now respectable again.

The doctor was stripping off his gloves and shrugging back into his jacket. ‘No problem. Your cervix hasn’t started to open yet, as I thought, but I doubt you’ll be long. That’s a fair old baby you’ve got there, you know.’

She smiled. ‘Takes after Sandy, I expect,’ she said fondly.

‘You’re sure of your dates?’

‘Oh, aye. There was only that one month, because the month before Sandy was away bringing the sheep in, and he was too tired …’

She flushed and trailed to a halt, and Dr Buchanan stifled a smile.

‘Just try and rest a bit for a few days, and call me if you’re the slightest bit worried. Don’t worry about wasting my time. I’d rather be called too early than too late, all right? I’ll see you on Tuesday at the clinic.’

As they walked back to the front of the house, Sandy took the doctor on one side and murmured something to him. Judging by the way he blushed and shifted from foot to foot, it was something he would rather Jamie didn’t hear, so she took herself out to the Land Rover and waited there.

A few seconds later the doctor emerged, shook hands with the young shepherd and climbed up into the cab.

As they pulled away, a broad smile broke up his rugged features, and he turned to her, his eyes twinkling.

‘He’s had a quiet week on the farm, and they’ve been taking advantage of the fact to do a little honeymooning. He wondered if he might have done her any harm!’

Jamie chuckled. ‘Judging by his smile, you set his mind at rest!’

He nodded, and the smile faded. ‘On that score, but I’m still concerned about the baby’s size, and to a certain extent its position. The head’s engaged, and all I can feel is hands and feet and bottom, So I think we may end up with a malpresentation. Of course there’s nothing to stop it turning; it’s still pretty active. I’ve told him to bring her in to the branch surgery on Tuesday and bring a urine sample—I just want to check she’s not become diabetic during her pregnancy, but she hasn’t got any of the other symptoms. It could be deceptive, of course, but I think I’ll get her sent along to the hospital for a scan.’

Jamie’s brow creased into a frown. ‘Do you think she’ll have problems with delivery, then?’

He shrugged. ‘Could be. Her pelvis isn’t bad, but that baby seemed big enough now, and she’s still got six weeks to go.’

‘Trudy next?’

‘Uh-huh. That’s back the way we’ve come and on a bit further.’ They headed down the track, turned left at the end and made good speed along the narrow, twisting road back to the coast. Then they ran along beside the loch again, sometimes so near to the water that Jamie felt she could touch it. The darkness was creeping in, and with it her tiredness, but the peace and tranquillity took the edge off her discomfort and she relaxed back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Seconds later she was being shaken gently awake by a massive hand cupping her shoulder, and as she straightened she found herself inches away from his startling slate-grey eyes.

‘I went to sleep—I’m sorry,’ she said breathlessly, and he nodded slightly. ‘It’s the drive—I left early this morning.’

He nodded again. ‘You should be tucked up in bed somewhere, not gadding about the countryside. We’re at Trudy’s house—do you want to come in, or stay here and rest?’

She looked around. They were parked outside a little terraced cottage in the middle of a village—if you could call it that. Out here, where neighbours were few and far between, a cluster of five or six houses probably did count as a village, Jamie thought, and it was here that Trudy lived.

‘Come in?’

‘Come on, then.’

He swung down from the seat, hefting his bag like a handful of feathers, and strode up to the door.

It was answered by a small girl who looked about seven at the most, but turned out to be Trudy, small for her age because of her temperamental health.

‘Hello, Dr Rob!’ she said with a gappy smile, and he ruffled her hair and hugged her against his side with one long arm.

‘How’s my girl, then? What’s this I hear about you not feeling too good?’

‘Oh, I feel fine, but I had jellyfish in my effluent and Mum though I ought to call you. I told her it was just fibrin, but she panics!’

Jamie stifled a grin, but Rob was dead-pan and serious.

‘Did you save it for me to look at?’

‘Of course!’ She gave a cheeky grin and led the way through to the little sitting-room. ‘Mum, Dr Rob’s here. He’s brought a visitor. Come away in and sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you. Trudy, come here and sit down and let me see this effluent. I expect Dr Cameron here would like to see it too. You’re sure you feel quite well?’

‘Uh-huh—I’ll get it.’

She skipped off, and her mother gave a weary smile. ‘She should be in bed by now, but I thought—I’d hate to neglect her and have anything dreadful go wrong. Like that sore throat—I’ll never forgive myself for that, but she always had them, and I thought it was just one more …’

Rob laid a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. ‘You had enough on your plate, Mrs Douglas. Your husband had just left you, your MS was progressing fast and furiously—no one could possibly blame you, and I’m damn sure Trudy doesn’t. And I think you did the right thing to call me tonight. Ah, Trudy, let’s see your jellyfish.’

He held up the bag of yellow-coloured fluid which had been used to dialyse Trudy, and frowned at it. ‘You sure you haven’t been fishing in the loch?’

She giggled. ‘I fell in yesterday—maybe some of the jellyfish swam inside then!’

He lowered the bag. ‘Did you fall in?’

‘No, of course not! I was just teasing you.’

‘Hmm. I’m never sure with you, young lady. Well, I reckon that’s all right, but I think we need to have a look at you. Could you just lie down on the settee and let me see your tummy?’

Once again Jamie was fascinated, but this time by Trudy. Just beside her tummy-button was a neat little hole through which emerged a catheter with a connector on the end, linked to another length of tube that ran to an empty bag. The skin around the exit site was clean and pink and healthy, and Rob nodded and covered the little girl up.

‘How’s your weight?’

‘Fine—going up a bit, but I’ve grown, so I think that must be why. I tried drinking less in case it was a fluid build-up but I got dehydrated——’

Trudy, come and talk to me or the clinic before you alter your fluid intake, love.’

The child instantly looked crestfallen, and he sat beside her and engulfed her little hand in his.

Trudy, I’m very proud of the way you’ve learnt to understand your condition and deal with all your problems, but there are times, and things, that you don’t know enough about. You know, the health service pay me and the people in the CAPD clinic a lot of money to help people like you—it’s cheating them if you won’t let us!’

She looked up at him, her serious face melting into a loving smile. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. You always look so tired…’ Her little hand came up and cupped his cheek, and he flushed slightly and hugged her.

‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. Anyway, Dr Cameron here is going to help me for a little while. Let me take your temperature and blood-pressure. Any chest pain, swollen ankles or shortness of breath?’

She shook her head, temporarily silenced by the thermometer.

‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Rob joked, and Trudy punched his arm gently.

He grinned and took the thermometer out of her mouth. ‘Fine. Good. I’ll put some heparin in the next couple of bags to keep the fibrin down, so it doesn’t clog the tube, then I want to know if it comes back again or if the effluent quantity is down. OK?’

Trudy nodded sagely. ‘Shall I ring the clinic?’

He tapped her on the end of her nose. ‘No, madam, you shall not, I’ll do it. I’ll see you again in a day or two. Now, how about going to bed?’

He was quiet on the way back to the surgery, and so was Jamie. In fact, she was too shocked and moved to speak, her thoughts trapped by the tremendous courage of the little girl whose life was destined to be dominated by her dialysis. Over and over again medicine had shown her the vast resources of courage that people, and especially children, were able to tap in times of crisis. It was humbling, and awe-inspiring, and just then it made her want to cry.

She huddled down in the seat and turned her face to the window, staring out into the almost dark night. Although it was late, the night was clear and bright, the moon gleaming coldly on the rocks by the shore. It was a night for lovers, she thought sadly, a night made for strolling hand in hand—not for sitting beside a man who had made it clear he had no use for her.

She risked a quick glance at his stern profile, and swallowed. He looked angry—furiously so, and she wondered why.

‘She needs a transplant,’ he growled. ‘Poor bloody kid shouldn’t have to suffer like that! It makes me so cross—the number of people who die with perfectly healthy kidneys, and because they haven’t thought of carrying a donor card, a kid like Trudy is condemned to an abbreviated lifetime of constant dialysis.’

‘She’s got time,’ Jamie murmured soothingly. ‘Perhaps a kidney will turn up soon.’

‘Maybe.’

He turned the Land Rover on to the drive and cut the engine, and the quiet of the night stole over them, A dog was barking somewhere in the distance, and they sat for a moment absorbing the stillness. Then the front door was opened and a golden flood spilled out into the garden.

‘Call for you, Doctor. Mrs McRae—think’s she’s got a chest infection. And the babe won’t settle without a kiss from her father.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll give her won’t settle. Call Mrs McRae for me and tell her I’m coming, and I’ll sort Chloe out.’

He was in, upstairs, back down and off out again within five minutes. Mrs H took Jamie upstairs and showed her her room and the bathroom which she would share with the housekeeper and the baby.

‘Dr Buchanan’s got his own bathroom off his bedroom, so we’re quite private. I expect you’d like a bath and then something to eat, wouldn’t you? You look all in.’

Jamie agreed, and bathed quickly, dressing warmly in a tracksuit before running back downstairs. She found the kitchen by trial and error, and Mrs H turned to her with a smile.

‘Here you are, lass. Bacon and mushroom omelette and a cup of tea.’

Jamie returned the smile. ‘Thank you, you’re very kind. How did you know I was hungry?’

There was a motherly chuckle. ‘I didn’t, but it was a fair bet that you hadn’t eaten before you got here, and the doctor wouldn’t have given it a thought. If it wasn’t for me tying him down and force-feeding him three times a day, that man wouldn’t eat from one week’s end to the next.’

‘What about his wife?’ Jamie asked, and the housekeeper’s face lost its smile.

‘Away,’ she said briefly.

‘On holiday?’

She snorted. ‘You could say that.’

‘Oh.’ Jamie didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘When’s she coming back?’

There was a slight sound behind her, and she turned, the blood draining from her face. She had never seen anyone look so angry in her entire life. Then he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

She turned her bemused gaze back to the housekeeper, and the woman sank down at the table and covered Jamie’s hand. ‘Don’t let him frighten you—and don’t let him drive you away either. If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’

‘Tell me about his wife,’ Jamie pleaded.

The woman shook her head. ‘If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself. I’ll tell you this much, though. She’ll not be back, and good riddance. He doesn’t need her, and no more does the child—but I’ve said enough. Ask him—if you dare—but pick your moment. He’s awful touchy about it still.’

Jamie had noticed—and she had no intention of asking him about any such thing. Besides, it was by no means certain that she’d even get the chance!