Читать книгу More Than Caring - Josie Metcalfe - Страница 7

MARC waited until he saw the taillights of Lauren’s car disappear into the September dusk before he switched the light back on in his room and sat down behind his desk.

Wretched woman would probably cause a scene if she knew that he’d been looking out for her this evening, but he couldn’t do anything else. At thirty-nine, the sense of responsibility had been part of him for far too many years for him to switch it off now.

If only he could switch it off, his life might be less stressful, but there would still be the guilt to keep him awake at night.

He sighed heavily, forcing himself to focus on the file spread open on his desk, then groaned again when he saw what it was.

In a larger hospital he wouldn’t have been so intimately involved with so many of the different departments. Here, at Denison Memorial, he had a role to play in almost every aspect of the day-to-day running of things. That included being a member of the interview panel for the appointment of new members of staff, but he was guiltily aware that wasn’t the reason why Lauren Scott’s file was on his desk.

As she’d reminded him, there was documented evidence of the self-defence courses she’d run at her previous post. What she didn’t know was that, in the course of checking her references, he’d also managed to find out about her involvement, almost to Olympic level, with several of the more strenuous forms of martial art.

He shook his head, bemused all over again. To look at her, so slender and elegant even in the loose-fitting tunic and trousers of her hospital uniform, you’d never know that her hands and feet could almost be classed as lethal weapons. Perhaps he should be counting himself fortunate that he had little more than a bruised elbow as a souvenir of their car park encounter.

He felt the wry smile edge over his face and knew that there was more than a hint of admiration in it. Her reaction to the perceived threat of his arrival on the scene had been so swift that he’d hardly had a chance to prepare himself for the impact.

He couldn’t help admitting that this was a hidden side to her character that he found uncomfortably fascinating. He’d watched her at work on her ward and all he’d seen had been a gentle woman with a caring word or touch for anyone who needed it.

She was slightly taller than average but because she was slender he hadn’t realised the fact until she’d faced him down in the car park. Then he’d had to notice that, in a pair of heels, her eyes would almost be on a level with his and her mouth…

‘Her mouth would probably take a bite out of me, rather than kiss me,’ he muttered, then was startled to feel a slow wash of heat spreading up over his face at the thought of those teeth sinking into his shoulder. And where had the thought of kissing her come from in the first place?

‘Crazy!’ he growled, slapping the file closed. ‘Doubly crazy,’ he added with a touch of bitterness that echoed around the unadorned walls of his office. ‘She won’t be staying long enough to start any kissing. She never stays anywhere long enough. And anyway, you’re not interested in starting any sort of relationship.’

He deliberately buried Lauren’s file under the heap of paperwork still to be done before he went home.

Not that he was in any rush to leave the hospital. There certainly wasn’t anything worth going home for. Just an empty cottage along a fairly isolated lane, one of a pair. He hadn’t even had any neighbours until a week or ten days ago when someone had taken up residence while he’d been at work.

If he were the sociable sort he could have gone round with a welcoming bottle of wine or something. As it was, he was grateful that whoever was renting the property seemed to lead just as busy a life as he did and was quietly content to keep himself to himself. The last thing he needed was some happy couple living right under his nose, reminding him of everything that was missing in his own life. Thank goodness the cottage was too small to accommodate a family with children.

Not that he begrudged others their happiness. He’d had it all once, until his own selfishness had put it in danger. He’d had to come to terms with the fact that duty and responsibility were going to fill his life from now on.

‘And paperwork,’ he said with a baleful glare, suddenly loathing the fact that his job involved so little activity. Once upon a time… ‘No. It’s over. Finished!’ he said fiercely. ‘I can take care of people just as effectively this way—by making sure that their medical services are running properly—as I ever could by running around, playing the hero.’

He forced himself to concentrate on the latest forecast figures for the hospital wages but still couldn’t stop the sudden shiver of awareness that snaked up his spine at the thought of Lauren’s self-defence class. She was intending that the first sessions were just going to be run for interested female staff and was probably hoping that, in spite of his offer to help with her demonstrations, he would be happy to sit at the back as an observer.

What she didn’t know was that he had every intention of being an active member of those classes. What he didn’t know was whether that decision was based on the desire to make sure that the lessons were thorough and accurate, or whether it had anything to do with the growing need to see if Lauren’s slender body was every bit as lithe and strong as he remembered.

‘Damn. I’m going to be late!’ Lauren muttered with a quick glance at her watch. She hastened her steps past the X-ray department, wondering why some days turned out like that.

She should have had plenty of time to get to the physiotherapy department and give her notes a final read through before the first brave souls arrived. Now she’d be lucky to get there before it was time for the class to start.

‘Ah! Here she is!’ called a male voice as she pushed the doors open, and she had to deliberately tamp down the swift surge of pleasure that Marc’s husky voice set off.

Then she saw him and almost forgot how to breathe.

He looked good in the business suits he wore to work each day, but in the softly draping fabric of a tracksuit she could see just how well the formal clothing camouflaged the muscles beneath. And to see him lounging easily against the wall with his arms folded across an impressively broad chest…

It was a real physical effort to drag her eyes away and acknowledge the half-dozen assorted members of staff waiting for her.

‘Sorry to be late but I got delayed on the ward,’ she said in a strangely breathless voice.

‘You don’t need to apologise to us. We know it goes with the territory,’ groaned a staff nurse she vaguely recognised from the accident and emergency department. It was amazing the difference a slim-fitting pair of jeans made when she was accustomed to seeing the young woman in baggy cotton theatre greens.

‘It doesn’t help when staff numbers are down either,’ said another with a dark look in Marc’s direction.

‘You don’t need to tell me,’ he said, his hands held up in surrender as he shouldered himself away from the wall to join the group. ‘Most nurses are working the equivalent of one and a half jobs but aren’t being paid a fair rate for one. That’s why recruitment is so difficult.’

‘Well, love of the job won’t pay the grocery bills,’ said another voice, and Lauren realised her class was in danger of being hijacked by the perennial nursing complaint.

‘So, does anyone here want to learn how to defend themselves against people desperate to mug them for their lavish salary?’ she joked, and heard the mixture of groans and chuckles she was looking for. ‘If you’d like to come over and perch yourselves on these benches, we’ll start with a few basics.’

‘This reminds me of being in gym classes at school,’ said Sam, the youngest member of the group, with a giggle as they settled in a row on the low wooden bench.

‘OK, now, I’ll start with a general introduction. For those who don’t know me, I’m Lauren Scott, a recent recruit to Denison Memorial. Before I came here I worked in a big inner city hospital in a rather rough part of an industrial town. It was bad enough having to cope with so many victims of physical violence but when some of them were our own staff, I wanted to see if I could do something about it.’

She paused a moment to draw breath, needing to subdue the ache of memories of a friend she would never see again, knifed right outside the hospital by an assailant trying to snatch her bag to support a drug habit. If she had her way, none of these women would end up victims. That was what she should concentrate on.

‘At school I was into sport and, like a lot of women, I enjoyed pitching myself against the boys in my class.’ There was another chuckle and some shared glances that told her she hadn’t been the only one. ‘Unfortunately, as we moved up the school, the boys got bigger and stronger, especially in their upper bodies, and when I realised that I was going to have to learn to use guile to beat them, I turned to martial arts.’ It wasn’t the whole story by a long chalk, but it was enough to get their attention.

‘You mean judo? That sort of thing?’ Sam asked eagerly. ‘There have been several films recently with women doing that.’

‘Judo and Tae Kwon Do,’ Lauren said with a nod. ‘It came in very useful when the body-builders tried to get a little more friendly than I wanted, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I realised how few women know how to defend themselves against the threat of random violence.’

‘But if it’s random, you can’t be prepared against it, can you?’ objected one of her older pupils, a senior nurse from the A and E department. ‘It must be different if you’re waiting for a bell to go at the start and finish of a bout in a competition.’

In spite of the fact that she’d carefully positioned herself to keep him out of her direct line of sight, Lauren caught a glimpse of Marc’s expression and was suddenly gratified to see that he was every bit as interested in what she had to say as the rest.

She dragged her eyes away and forced herself to gather her thoughts.

‘In one way, you’re absolutely right. You can never know when violence might explode out of nowhere. But you can be prepared, especially if you learn to take sensible precautions on a daily basis.’

Getting into her stride, she started off with what was for her the number one rule.

‘The best way to get out of a difficult situation isn’t becoming an expert at martial arts, it’s running,’ she announced baldly, and watched them blink.

‘You mean, go to keep-fit classes, or take up jogging?’ Marc asked with a frown. It obviously wasn’t what he’d expected. He looked almost as though she’d disappointed him.

‘Not necessarily, although we could probably all do with a bit of extra exercise if only we had the time and energy,’ Lauren said. ‘No, what I actually mean is, if you’re attacked, the best thing you can do is to run away—even if your attacker has grabbed your handbag. It’s never worth being injured or even losing your life over a bag full of odds and ends.’

Lauren reached for the shoulder-bag she’d deposited with her notes and demonstrated how to carry it tucked tightly under her arm with the long handles folded well out of reach.

‘Most attacks on lone women happen at night, so it’s important that you’re aware of any dangerous places on your journey—badly lit short cuts, for example—and that you find a safer way to go.’

She had their attention now but, strangely, she was most aware of a certain pair of smoky grey eyes following her every word.

‘I’ve prepared a set of notes that you can each take home with you at the end of the session, just to remind you of the points that we’ll go through in each class.’

She handed out the notes and waited a moment till they settled down again then began working her way through the list of basic safety strategies for women travelling alone.

It turned into a lively discussion…much to Marc’s surprise, if she was reading his expression correctly.

Had he expected her just to stand in front of them and deliver a dry lecture? she wondered crossly. Just wait until she started teaching them some of the really physical stuff. She’d prove to him that she was just as good at this as she was at her nursing job.

‘As you can see, self-defence has some similarities with medicine,’ she pointed out. ‘Much of the prevention side is just common sense.’

‘Like parking in well-lit areas,’ Marc said, a meaningful glint in his eye just for Lauren.

‘Which brings us back to the aspect of planning ahead,’ she hastily added, hoping the sudden wash of heat she could feel in her face wasn’t showing as a blush. ‘If you’re parking a car during the day, don’t forget to check that it’s still going to be a safe position to come back to at the end of your shift when it’s dark.’

‘There was one of those programmes on the television that gave out advice like this and they said you should have your keys in your hand when you go out to your car,’ Sam offered.

Lauren was delighted that the youngest member of the group had so much to contribute. She was such a bubbly personality that she would be an excellent person to spread the word about the classes.

‘Do the rest of you know why?’ Lauren asked, opening the question up to the whole group. ‘Can you suggest any reasons why it would be a good idea to carry your keys on the way to your car?’

‘You wouldn’t have to stand there for ages trying to fish the darned things out of the bottom of your bag,’ groaned one.

‘You’d have them in your hand to use as a weapon,’ suggested her bloodthirstier neighbour.

‘It’s down to that “be prepared, look prepared” thing again, isn’t it?’ said a third. ‘You won’t look like a dithery potential victim.’

‘Good,’ Lauren said, trying to block out the approving nod she caught from Marc. She didn’t need it to tell her that this was probably the most receptive group she’d had so far. Or was that just her heightened perception because of the presence of her largely silent observer?

‘Now, let’s take it a step further. You’ve unlocked the car. What do you do next?’

‘Get in quickly and lock the door?’ suggested one with a smile.

Lauren had turned towards her as she’d spoken, so she saw Marc silently reach out towards the speaker in front of him.

‘And what if you’ve just locked yourself in the car with a stalker?’ he growled menacingly as he placed his hands around her neck.

The young nurse’s shriek was almost enough to curdle the blood. It was certainly enough to drive the point home.

‘As Mr Fletcher has just kindly demonstrated,’ Lauren said to a slightly nervous chorus of chuckles, ‘you should always look in the back of the car before you get in, to make sure you haven’t picked up any unwanted passengers. And do it every time you leave the car, even if it’s been parked on a brightly lit forecourt while you filled up with petrol. To be really safe, lock the car when you go to pay for the fuel, and take your handbag with you.’

‘It’s all such obvious stuff, isn’t it?’ groaned her oldest pupil, Marion. ‘So simple that we should be doing it on an everyday basis without even thinking about it.’

‘If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t take long before it actually does become routine,’ Lauren promised. ‘By the time you finish the course you’ll find that it’s become automatic to plan an outing with the safety factor as an integral part of it. You’ll no more think about setting off without making arrangements for your return than you’d go on a journey without letting someone know where you’re going and what time you expect to arrive back. You’re just planning to stay safe—and stay alive—without letting fear take over and rule you. After all, it’ll probably never happen, especially if you take precautions.’

‘What about at home? Do we need to turn our houses into fortresses?’ Marion asked.

‘Only if the Queen’s in the habit of lending you the crown jewels on a regular basis,’ Lauren teased. ‘Most people need do nothing more than fit good locks and a safety chain and make sure they use them.’

Lauren invited questions but they all seemed perfectly happy with the basics they’d covered so far. A quick glance at her watch told her that they still had plenty of the allotted time left but she didn’t know whether the group would have had enough for one session and decided to leave the decision up to them.

‘Well, ladies…and gentleman,’ she added with a tilt of her head towards Marc, ‘that’s the end of the first part—the mainly theoretical side concerned with trying to avoid getting into dangerous situations. Have you had enough to take in for one day, or do you want to continue?’

‘Is this the bit where we learn how to throw giants around like matchsticks?’ her youngest pupil demanded with relish. ‘Like that kung fu stuff they do in films?’

‘And leap tall buildings in a single bound? Not exactly, Sam,’ Lauren said with a grin. ‘If you want to learn martial arts you’ll have to find classes where they can teach you from scratch. Here, you’re just learning the basics to help you get out of dangerous situations. And remember, the most important one is to run.’

‘Run?’ her young pupil said dismissively. ‘Running away’s cowardly. I’d rather wipe the floor with the so-and-so who tries to attack me.’

Lauren saw the frown beginning to darken Marc’s face and had a feeling that he was tempted to break in. She was glad when he resisted the urge.

She confronted the problem head on, hoping to inject a touch of humour to get it across.

‘OK, Sam, I know that we’re always taught that it’s cowardly to run away from our problems,’ she agreed. ‘And I’d be the first to admit that it can give you a buzz when you manage to throw a much bigger opponent…’ She paused just long enough for another, more wicked grin, telling herself that it wasn’t being aimed at Marc. ‘But I doubt the buzz would last very long when you realised what damage he’d done to your face with the knife he was carrying in his other hand. Or what about the broken jaw or the shattered eye socket when your attempts failed on the first try and you only succeeded in making him angry?’

Several members of the class pulled faces and Lauren could see from the thoughtful expression on Sam’s face that she might have succeeded in her aim.

‘At this moment, we’re just interested in defensive manoeuvres rather than offensive ones. But if you’re feeling particularly bloodthirsty there’s nothing to say that you couldn’t have all the fun you need, learning to throw people around in classes. Now, who’s going to be my guinea pig while I do some basic demonstrations?’

Lauren was expecting Sam to be the keenest but before the young woman even had a chance to offer, Marc was on his feet and making his way to the front of the group.

‘It would make more sense if I volunteered,’ he said firmly, the direct expression in those smoky grey eyes almost daring her to object. ‘Then all the others get an equal chance to see what’s going on.’

He was right, of course, but just the thought of being in any sort of close contact with the man was enough to have her pulse throbbing at twice its usual rate.

‘Well, yes, of course,’ she muttered, startled to realise that there was more than a little anticipation mixed in with the apprehension. ‘Good idea.’

‘So,’ he said as he pushed his sleeves up to reveal surprisingly muscular forearms shaded with dark hair, ‘what do you want me to do?’

‘Grab me…or rather, grab my clothing,’ she directed, then prayed that she’d manage to fight the blush working its way up from her throat. ‘I want to demonstrate how to break your hold.’

It didn’t take long to demonstrate several ways to break an attacker’s hold but Lauren was glad when it was time for each member of the class to take a turn to be victim and aggressor. At least with Marc sharing the supervision she had a chance to calm down.

It shouldn’t be like this, she told herself sternly. He was just a colleague, and a rather disapproving one at that. He certainly wasn’t someone who should be sending her hormones into orbit when all he was doing was grabbing hold of a handful of her clothing.

‘Now, grab my hair,’ she directed, trying to adopt an air of briskness as she demonstrated several ways of breaking his hold while losing as little hair as possible in the process. ‘And don’t forget, as soon as you’ve broken free, run before he’s had a chance to work out how you got away.’

Once again, Marc assisted as each of the members of the class practised the simple manoeuvres that would startle an attacker into releasing his hold.

It was just by chance that Lauren caught sight of the clock on the wall and realised that they’d overrun their allotted time.

She could almost have predicted the groans that went up when she called an end to the session. All of them were obviously taking everything seriously, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t prepared to have fun while they were learning. Especially if it came at Marc’s expense, it seemed.

‘If you’re going to start teaching them how to throw me around, I don’t think I’ll come next time,’ he groaned theatrically as they made their farewells. The others laughed sympathetically and promised to dump him gently if he was brave enough to turn up for the next instalment.

Lauren was surprised at the sudden stab of disappointment his announcement caused, then cross with herself for being disappointed.

She hadn’t expected him to turn up in the first place and when he had, she hadn’t expected that he would be so helpful, not after the way he’d been keeping such an eagle eye on her in the ward.

She also hadn’t expected to find herself responding to him as anything other than the man intent on watching and waiting for her to make a disastrous error of some sort. She certainly didn’t want to see him as an attractive man who set her blood racing.

‘Thank you for your help,’ she said politely as he waited beside the door to switch the light off behind them.

‘You’re welcome. I actually enjoyed it.’

Lauren couldn’t help chuckling. ‘In a masochistic way?’

‘Sounds like it, doesn’t it?’ He gave one of those grins guaranteed to set a firecracker under any woman’s libido. ‘I actually meant the whole thing. You’re good at putting the stuff across so they take it in.’

‘I had a good teacher,’ she said briefly, allowing herself a fleeting memory of the indefatigable woman who had made it her life’s mission to teach self-defence after she’d lost her only daughter in an attack.

They’d reached her car, sitting safely under the blue-white glow of the safety light. As she turned to say goodnight she was suddenly aware of a strange reluctance for the evening to end. Not that she had any reason to prolong her farewell. Marc was far too busy even to take time out to attend her class this evening, let alone walk her out to her car.

‘Lauren, you haven’t remembered anything more about the other night, have you?’ he demanded, much to her surprise. She’d actually managed to put the whole incident to the back of her mind.

‘Remembered anything more?’ she repeated, puzzled. ‘Like what? I barely saw the man because it was so dark, remember?’

‘So you wouldn’t recognise him if you saw him again?’

‘Not if he were standing in front of me right this minute,’ she confirmed honestly.

‘Well, did he say anything? Make any threats? Did he have a particular regional accent, for example?’

‘I honestly can’t remember…’ she began, only to pause as that niggling impression rose up from its hiding place in the back of her mind. ‘Wait a minute…There was something…’

He started to speak but she put up her hand to stop him, not wanting anything to interfere with her concentration. There had definitely been something odd about the encounter…something that had stuck like a burr in a totally inaccessible place…

‘He called out to me,’ she said aloud as she ran through the events, like replaying a video in her mind. ‘I’d broken my own rules because until he spoke I hadn’t even realised that he was there. Then he grabbed me…’

‘And you sent him neatly over you to land in a heap,’ Marc finished for her with an unexpected edge of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I saw that part, but do you remember what his voice sounded like? Or what he said?’

‘My name. No! That was it! It wasn’t my name, but just for a moment I thought it was, so I was a bit slow on the uptake.’

‘So, what did he say?’

‘He called me Laura…no, Laurel something. I can’t remember exactly.’ Lauren resorted to the trick she used with crossword puzzles of running through the alphabet in her mind. She’d almost reached the end when she exclaimed, ‘Wright! No, that’s still not quite…Something-Wright…Arkwright? Wainwright? Yes! That’s it. He called me Laurel Wainwright.’

‘And you’ve no idea why?’

‘None at all. I’ve never heard the name before.’

‘And it’s not as if you’re from the area, so he couldn’t have recognised you and just forgotten your name,’ Marc mused.

‘Oh, well. It’s probably destined to remain one of life’s great mysteries,’ Lauren quipped. ‘Along with what happened to my other pair of walking socks when I did the laundry yesterday. I could have sworn I put both pairs in, but only one pair came out.’

‘Hmm. They can’t have gone to the Planet of Lost Socks, then. They only accept them if they arrive one at a time,’ Marc retorted with a straight face, then spoilt it by laughing at her expression.

Lauren couldn’t help joining in. The last person from whom she’d have expected such whimsical nonsense was super-efficient, perennially serious Marc Fletcher, but with just that one sentence he’d revealed another, deeply hidden facet.

Suddenly, she knew she was in trouble; knew it was time she said a swift goodbye and made her way as far away from the man as quickly as she could.

It had been easy to resist his physical attraction…with a minor lapse or two while she’d watched that gorgeous body striding away down yet another corridor. All the while he was being so suspicious and grouchy her emotions were in no danger.

Unfortunately, the Marc Fletcher she’d seen this evening was another matter altogether—generous with his time, sharply intelligent, and with a surprising sense of the absurd.

This was a man who could easily chip away at the self-sufficiency that had become so much a part of her over the last decade or so.