Читать книгу A Gentle Giant - Caroline Anderson - Страница 5

IT WASN’T a good night. Between the strange bed, the uncertainty about her future and Rob Buchanan’s anger over her inquisitiveness, Jamie didn’t sleep much.

Her room was above the front door, and so she was aware of the exact number of times Rob was called out, and how long he was gone each time.

By five-thirty, when he left again, he had been in for precisely four hours, in three stretches, since the unfortunate scene in the kitchen—this on top of an already punishing schedule and at the start of a no doubt hectic week. Jamie sighed. Why was he so determined to get rid of her? Mrs H’s words came back to her. ‘If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’ Well, it was up to her to make him accept it—at least temporarily.

Throwing off the bedclothes, she made her way to the bathroom, had a quick wash and then dressed in the colourful and pretty tracksuit she had worn the previous night. With her trainers in her hand, she crept down the silent landing and tiptoed down the stairs, letting out her breath as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She put the kettle on and made a cup of tea, and then while it cooled she started her warm-up routine. She was standing head-down with her back to the door and her hands grasping one ankle when she heard a slight noise behind her. Peering through her legs, she saw a large pair of shoes at the bottom of impossibly long legs clad in lovat-green wool trousers.

She dropped her ankle as if it were red-hot and snapped upright.

‘Good morning.’

She shoved the hair off her face with both hands and turned reluctantly to face him, conscious of the flush on her cheeks and, strangely, every curve and hollow of her slender body. She tugged the tracksuit top down and tried for a smile.

‘Morning. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I haven’t had a better offer all day,’ he murmured. He hooked a chair with his foot and dropped wearily into it, one arm lying along the table-top with the elbow bent and his head propped on his hand.

She found another cup and filled it, then set it down beside him. His eyes were shut, and he looked absolutely exhausted. His skin was grey, the dark hair heavy on his brow in stark contrast. There were black shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed and deeply etched. He needed a shave, and the dark stubble did nothing to improve his appearance. He looked like a convict on the run, a man at the end of his tether. She stifled the urge to pull his head against her breast and smooth away the cares, instead perching on a chair near him and watching him with steady eyes.

After a few seconds a soft snore escaped him, and she realised he was asleep, bolt upright in the chair. Poor man. Poor, exhausted, stubborn, foolish man. She reached out and touched his arm lightly, and his eyes flickered and opened slowly.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered gruffly, and reached almost blindly for the tea.

‘Bad night,’ she stated gently, and he nodded.

‘Did I disturb you?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Just wondered. You’re up awful early.’

‘I was going for a run. It looks a lovely morning.’

He nodded. ‘It is.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Mind if I join you? I could do with a little fresh air.’

Well, what could she say? No, I want to be on my own? Yes, by all means, but keep your rotten temper to yourself?

‘That would be very nice,’ she said instead, and wondered why she didn’t choke on the lie. Still, it would give her a chance to be with him, and perhaps they could talk again about the practice. He couldn’t deny that he needed help, and she was ready, willing and able—not to mention having a contract in her handbag, which must surely mean something?

She stirred the dregs of her tea idly while he went and changed, and the thoughts ran endlessly round in a continuous loop, always coming back to the same thing—if Rob Buchanan wouldn’t let her help him, there was nothing she could do about it.

He was back quickly, and she pushed herself to her feet before she turned to look at him. Instantly, she wished she had remained seated, because he was dressed in nothing more than a pair of satin running shorts and a running vest that did nothing to hide him from her eyes, and he was hugely, overpoweringly—well, male, really, she thought with a last vestige of humour. It was just that the word man was suddenly redefined before her eyes, and it frankly took her breath away.

‘Ready?’

‘I—yes, of course.’ She pushed the chair under the table, took a deep breath and followed him down the hall. He stood back to hold the door for her, and she squeezed past him, skilfully avoiding contact. ‘Which way do we go?’ she asked quietly.

‘Up out of the village, along the glen and then back round to the coast road and home—about four miles. Is that OK?’

She nodded. Three miles was her usual run, but she hadn’t done it recently because of all the confusion and packing up and—well, she just hadn’t. Still, she could. ‘I’ll follow you,’ she said, and it was the last thing she managed for some time.

He set a punishing pace, and she fell into step behind him with a feeling of dread. Was he doing it on purpose? Probably. She gritted her teeth and tucked her head down, keeping just his heels in sight. It served two purposes. One, it stopped her having to see the length of the hill they were climbing—and two, she was less aware of the powerful legs with their liberal dusting of black hair pounding like pistons ahead of her. She spared him a glance, and shook her head slightly at what she saw.

Everything about him, from the immensely powerful shoulders, through the long arms and down the powerful column of his back to the taut buttocks and massive thighs that bunched with every stride—everything shrieked MAN. Jamie didn’t need that kind of distraction if she was going to have to fight with him about her job. The last thing she needed in a battle of the sexes was to be physically aware of him, or him of her, come to that. Thank God she was covered up—although as the run progressed and she heated up she wondered how long it would be before she wanted to tear off her top and let the air filter through her thin cotton T-shirt.

Too bad, she decided. Her bra was only so good, and although she was slim, she was also quite definitely a woman, and running was not calculated to make that go unnoticed. She kept the top on.

She was so busy in her thoughts that she didn’t realise they had reached the top of the hill, or that Rob was waiting for her. Consequently she cannoned into him, driving her breath out with a little ‘Ooof!’ and bringing a blush to her already warm cheeks. He steadied her with his hands, and she felt the shock all the way down to her toes.

‘You look hot,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘Why don’t you take off the top?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t want to have to carry it.’

‘I’ll carry it.’ He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a second.

Modesty be damned, she thought as she wrenched the suffocating top off. ‘I thought it would be cooler,’ she said lamely.

He knotted the sleeves around his trim waist and frowned at her. ‘Am I going too fast for you? You look a bit out of condition.’

‘It’s a few weeks since I went for a run,’ she confessed. More like a few months, she corrected herself, and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing.

‘All downhill now,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hell on the knees, but easy on the chest. Ready?’

She nodded weakly, and he set off, his long legs loping steadily down the slight incline. She kept up with him, but his stride was much longer than hers, and it wasn’t easy. Once she stumbled, and his hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

‘OK?’

‘Yes—fine—just—thank you.’

She looked up and met his eyes, and a new respect dawned in them.

‘I’ll shorten my stride,’ he suggested, the ghost of a smile playing around his eyes, and she stifled the retort. Playing games with her, was he?

‘Don’t bother,’ she said, and led the way, her pace too fast but her pride flying high.

He caught up with her, shot her a grin and moved in front, deliberately racing ahead.

‘Show-off,’ she yelled after him, and dropped back to a more sensible speed. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wondered how much further it was. Rob was out of sight now, the bend ahead hiding him from view.

As she rounded the corner, he thrust himself away from the rock he was resting against and jogged up beside her.

‘Nearly there,’ he said with a smile, and she nodded briefly and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

They dropped down the last section of hill to the coast road, and then turned left, back towards the village. This stretch of road was by now familiar to Jamie, and she knew it could only be a mile or so at the most, but it seemed to stretch on forever.

Just when she felt she really couldn’t go on any longer, Rob tugged her to a halt at his side. ‘Let’s walk,’ he suggested. The view is breathtaking, isn’t it? It never fails to move me.’

They fell into step, his long legs slowing to accommodate her shorter stride, and as they walked, he pointed things out to her.

‘Salmon farm,’ he said, and she squinted into the rising sun.

‘Where?’

He moved round behind her, stretched out his arm and pointed. ‘Look along my arm,’ he instructed, and she rested her cheek against his forearm and looked.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, distracted. His skin was cool and damp, covered with a fine sheen of moisture, and his body, so close behind her, smelt of soap and healthy exercise and a strange, heady fragrance that called to some long-buried primitive part of her.

She moved away.

‘Rob, about what you overheard last night——’

He stiffened. ‘Forget it.’

‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was prying.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘No! At least, not intentionally. My father always said I leap in where angels fear to tread, but last night it didn’t occur to me that there was anything to pry into. Obviously Chloe has or has had a mother, and a child of that age isn’t usually brought up by the father on his own. It wasn’t an unreasonable mistake to make.’

He was silent for a while, and then sighed, running his big hands through his hair. She thought he looked resigned.

‘I’m sorry, I tend to over-react.’

Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted gently.

He gave a brief snort. ‘I thought Mrs Harrison already did that.’

‘No.’ Jamie stopped him with a hand on his arm and turned him to face her. ‘She only told me she was away and wasn’t coming back. Nothing else.’

‘What else is there?’ he said bleakly.

‘There’s why.’

He shot her a black look. ‘Your father was right. You’re an interfering baggage.’

She took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Mrs ? told me not to let you frighten me. I get the impression you’re just a pussycat.’

He gave a wry snort of laughter, and then met her eyes candidly.

‘You want to know about Jennifer? She hated it in the Highlands. We met in Edinburgh, where I trained, and when I did my GP trainee year I came out here to this practice. It was wonderful, so clean and straightforward, somehow, after the city—but within a month Jennifer had left and gone back to Edinburgh. She said she wanted a divorce, and I was tied to the practice, so I begged her to wait until the year was over and let us try again.

‘She refused, and when the year was up they offered me a job here and I took it. As soon as the second year of our separation was up, she started divorce proceedings. I took some leave and went back to Edinburgh to try and talk her out of it. At first it seemed that we might have a chance, but, when she asked me if I would consider a city practice and I said no, the most I would consider was a small rural practice just outside a city, that was it. End of reconciliation.’

His face bleak, he continued, ‘Eleven months later she turned up with Chloe, eight weeks old, and said she didn’t want her. I was appalled. I had no way of looking after her, so I took a few days off, shopped for baby equipment and a housekeeper, and Mrs Harrison turned up, bless her heart. She’d lost her husband, her children had left the nest and she was finding things a bit tight and a lot lonely. She’s been a marvel, and without her I would have lost the only thing in the world I really care about.’

He turned away, but not before Jamie caught the bright sheen of tears in his eyes.

‘So now you know,’ he said a little unevenly. ‘As far as Chloe’s concerned, mothers don’t exist.’

‘And as far as you’re concerned, women don’t exist except in cities.’ Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. How could she fight such deep-rooted prejudice?

‘That’s right,’ he said tersely. ‘I have to get back. Do you know the way?’

She nodded, and he left her there, watching his powerful legs eating up the road as he sprinted back home. She followed slowly, her heart heavy.

How could she make him understand? The peace and tranquillity of the quiet little Scottish backwater were just what her spirit needed after the last harrowing year. Perhaps he would give her a trial? Yes, that was it, she’d persuade him to allow her to help, make herself indispensable and then he’d have no option …

She shook her head. It wouldn’t work. He wasn’t a man who allowed circumstances to dictate to him. As she let herself in the front door, she was almost resigned to putting her overnight bag back in the car and driving back to—where? Her parents’ house was sold, her half-brother and his wife didn’t want or need her—she had nowhere to go. No home, no job, friends who were too busy chasing the ladder of success to bother with a restless young woman who couldn’t settle down. No good telling them that her soul was starved. They would only laugh.

Rob was standing in the hall with Chloe in his arms, talking on the phone as she walked in. He looked worried, and as she went up the stairs she heard him say he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

He put Chloe in the kitchen with Mrs H and bounded past Jamie on the stairs, going up three at a time. He ran into his bedroom, stripping off his vest as he went, and seconds later she heard drawers slamming.

She tapped on the open bedroom door, and he glanced up, clad only in a pair of skimpy briefs. She dragged her eyes from his body, aware that this was not the time to be distracted.

‘Can I help?’ she offered quietly.

He looked at her as if she were an answer to his prayers, and nodded.

‘School bus overturned on the main road. Have you got a medical bag in your car?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Throw something on and bring it. I’ll get some syringes and some diamorphine from the dispensary, and we’ll need giving sets and some saline——’

She didn’t wait to hear the familiar list.

They met in the hall a few seconds later. He stuck his head round the kitchen door, rattled off instructions to Mrs H and joined her at the Land Rover.

‘Got the bag?’

She nodded.

‘Come on, then.’

He drove at breakneck speed, and when they arrived she could see why. It was a scene of absolute mayhem. Terrified children clustered round each other some yards from the bus, which lay on its side at the edge of the road. As they approached, the policeman who had been first on the scene greeted them with relief.

‘Most of the kids are fine—cuts and bruises, the odd fracture—one arm, a couple of fingers. A WPC is giving them some first aid and a bit of TLC. Two children still trapped inside—both still alive, but one has head injuries and probably leg injuries, and the other has abdominal injuries from the crushed seat in front of her.’

‘Have their parents been informed?’ Rob asked tersely.

‘Doing it now. The two in the bus are apparently Stephen Watson and Trudy Douglas——’

‘Trudy?’ Rob’s face lost its colour and he closed his eyes. ‘Come on, Jamie. You come with me into the bus and we’ll see if we can get them out.’

They made their way in through the smashed windscreen, past the rows of broken seats to the two children trapped near the back. There was a policewoman crouched beside them, murmuring reassuringly to Trudy. Rob, hunched up in the cramped roof of the bus, reached Trudy first.

‘Hello, Trudy, love,’ he said gently. ‘We’ll soon have you out of here. Tell me where you hurt, hen.’

She lifted wide, terrified eyes at him and gave him a trembly little smile. ‘Hello, Dr Rob,’ she whispered. ‘I think my effluent’s oozed out; I’m all wet,’ she told him.

‘Is it just the tummy?’ he asked, and she nodded.

He quickly assessed the extent of the damage, and then turned to Jamie. ‘I’m going to have to get her out to deal with her. I think I may be able to shift the seat if you can steady her—think you can manage it? It’s a bit awkward.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him. ‘This little boy’s unconscious, but his vital signs seem fairly strong. He’s trapped by the legs. I think most of the blood’s from a scalp wound.’

Rob nodded. ‘We’ll get Trudy out first before we try and move him.’

He got a line into her arm, ran in some saline and gave her a small shot of pethidine, examining the seat while it took effect. Then he positioned Jamie under Trudy so she wouldn’t fall when the seat was moved, and braced his legs against the roof and the seat behind.

‘Ready?’ he murmured, and winked at Trudy. Then he bunched his muscles and heaved, and the seat creaked up and eased steadily away. She slithered on to Jamie’s lap with a little cry, and Jamie’s arms wrapped instinctively around the brave little girl.

‘All right, sweetheart, soon have you out and comfy,’ she crooned reassuringly, as Rob gave the seat one last wrench and cleared the way. Then he stooped and lifted Trudy from her lap, and bore her tenderly out of the bus to lie on the grass outside.

It was immediately obvious that it was more than her dialysate that had leaked. Her school uniform was soaked with blood, and Rob looked desperately worried.

She met his eyes over Trudy’s body, and could have wept for them both. So much for not getting involved with one’s patients, she thought with a wry little smile.

‘Where the hell is the ambulance?’ he muttered. Just then they heard the siren blaring in the distance, and in seconds it came into view, slewing off at the side of the road. Immediately the crew leapt out and ran over.

‘Internal injuries,’ Rob said briskly. ‘It isn’t helped by the fact that she’s on CAPD.’

The ambulanceman bent over Trudy and touched the tip of her nose. ‘We know you, don’t we, pet? Old friends, aren’t we, Trudy? Coming for a ride?’

Jamie left the three of them and took the other ambulanceman to the bus. He produced some cutters which made short work of the seat and they soon had the little boy free. His legs were both broken below the knee, but he moaned as they moved him, a good sign that his unconsciousness wasn’t too deep. Jamie got in a line and cleaned up the head wound while the ambulanceman splinted both the boy’s legs and fetched a stretcher. Soon both the children were loaded into the ambulance and were away, leaving Rob and Jamie to deal with the walking wounded.

By the time the last of the children had been either sent to hospital or collected by their parents, it was ten o’clock and Rob was showing the effects of the night on call.

They drove back in silence, both preoccupied with their thoughts, and when they arrived at the house Rob led her round to the back door and up the back stairs to the landing.

The hall will be full of patients, and neither of us is exactly inspiring to look at,’ he said ruefully.

Jamie had to agree. If she looked half as bad as him …!

‘Rob, let me help you with your surgery,’ she said urgently. Those people have had a long wait already and they have work to get on with.’

He studied her in silence for a time, and then gave a weary nod. Thank you. I’ll accept—for them. See you downstairs in five minutes.’

Well, she thought, progress!

She showered rapidly, washing her hair and tying it back to dry while she tugged on a skirt and jumper and slid her feet into sandals. She went down the back way and met Mrs H in the kitchen.

‘Congratulations!’ the housekeeper whispered. ‘I knew you’d be good for him. He says you’re to use the little surgery next to the office. The notes are on the desk. Away and get started, and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee in a minute.’

Jamie crossed the hall, smiling at the assembled patients who looked back curiously.

‘Good morning!’ she said brightly, and they mumbled a ragged response. She smiled grimly to herself. They weren’t giving anything away to a stranger! The surgery was small but clean and neat—lacking Rob’s chaotic influence, she thought, and also his warmth. She would have to get some posters up to brighten it.

She picked up the first set of notes, walked to the door and stuck her head round. ‘Mrs Ferguson? Could you come in, please?’

Mrs H brought her a cup of coffee between her third and fourth patients, and she gulped it down gratefully before carrying on. After about an hour, she found that the pile of notes had moved from one side of her desk to another, and with a sigh and a stretch she walked to the door and looked out into the empty hall. Rob’s door was open, and she could hear him on the phone.

It went down with a crash, and he swore softly. She tapped on the door.

‘Come in!’ he barked.

She did, quirking an eyebrow at him, and he sighed and grinned ruefully.

‘What do you want first—the good news or the bad news?’

She answered his smile.

‘Good, of course.’

‘Trudy’s going to be fine. The blood was from her exit site, which must have got torn when the seat trapped her. She’s a bit sore, but nothing drastic. She is, of course, back on haemodialysis until the site settles down,’ he added heavily.

‘And the bad?’

‘Can’t get a locum for at least a fortnight.’

She tried to stifle the smile, but failed. ‘Why is that such bad news? You’ve got me.’

‘Huh!’ he snorted. ‘Now I have, but for how long? I have to get someone permanent and reliable before the winter sets in,’ he explained patiently, as if she were an idiot.

She leant over the desk and stabbed her finger into his rock-hard chest. ‘I am here, and I am permanent, and I am reliable.’

He took her hand in his, and the warmth shot up her arm, stunning her.

‘Jamie, be reasonable,’ he pleaded.

She snatched her hand away, partly because he was irritating her, and partly because she couldn’t concentrate for wondering when her arm was going to catch fire.

‘I’m being perfectly reasonable,’ she argued, spinning away from the desk and moving to the window. Chloe was outside, playing in the sandpit in a pair of bright pink dungarees and a clashing yellow T-shirt. She watched as the child made a sandcastle and then smashed it down with a delicious chuckle.

She was aware of Rob standing beside her, his face hard as he stared past her at his beloved daughter. She laid a hand on his arm, and felt again the warmth coursing through her veins.

‘Rob, not everyone is like your wife.’

‘Ex-wife,’ he corrected, and shifted his eyes to hers. ‘I’m sorry, Jamie, my mind’s made up. I have no choice but to accept your help for a while, but you may as well start looking for another job somewhere more suitable.’

‘Damn you, you insufferable, chauvinistic, pig-headed fool! I don’t want another job! I want this one, and I’m damn well going to have it!’

She turned on her heel and cannoned into Mrs H, who was standing in the doorway with an approving smile on her face.

With a muttered apology she squeezed past her and fled upstairs, slamming her bedroom door and counting to ten to try and get a handle on her rage.

A few minutes later there came a tap at the door.

‘Who is it?’

‘An insufferable, chauvinistic, pig-headed fool. May I come in?’

Lord, she thought, did I really call him all that?

‘Yes, come in.’ She got off the bed and turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry about the adjectives——’

‘Don’t be.’ He gave her a lop-sided grin. ‘I expect I deserve them all, and more besides. I have a proposition for you. Suppose you stay for the full two months of the trial period?’

‘And will you give me a fair run? Put your preconceived notions on hold and give me a chance to prove myself?’

He grinned. ‘Yes—as if you’d give me a choice!’

She sat down on the bed with a plonk, her mind whirling. Two months took them up to the end of October. The weather was starting to break up then, and hopefully he wouldn’t be able to do anything about another partner until the spring—by which time …

I accept,’ she said quickly.

He gave her a wry grin. ‘I rather thought you might. It only took Jennifer half that time to find out she hated it. It should be long enough to convince you.’

‘Or you,’ she said challengingly.

‘Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?’

She grinned. ‘Oh, yes—every bit as stubborn as you, and then some, probably.’

‘I doubt it,’ he said with a laugh.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be too sure.’

The challenge hung in the air between them.