Читать книгу A Very Special Proposal - Josie Metcalfe - Страница 8

WITH a strange sense that fantasy and reality had just become inextricably entwined, Amy’s heart almost forgot how to beat.

It felt almost as if she was turning in slow motion until she finally faced the man who’d been standing behind her.

There was a weird feeling of inevitability as she looked up into those newly familiar dark eyes but it wasn’t until she caught sight of that sleek dark hair cut close to his head, when once it had curled rebelliously almost to his shoulders, that the pieces fell into place.

‘It was you!’ she breathed when she recognised the motorcyclist from the scene of the accident that morning, the broad shoulders she’d admired earlier in the day so much wider and more muscular than those of the teenage boy she remembered so clearly. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘It wasn’t the time or the place and, anyway, I didn’t know if you’d even remember me,’ he said, then she caught a glimpse of that old familiar gleam in his eyes. ‘So, ABC, how have you been?’

‘ABC? Do you two know each other already?’ Ben was trying to keep up with this unexpected development but Amy barely heard him, every atom of her concentration focused on the man she’d nearly looked up on the internet just last night, the man she’d been convinced that she’d never see again because he was probably in prison or dead. Zach was a doctor? In her hospital?

‘Amy Bowes Clark was my lab partner for sciences when we were at school together,’ Zach explained with a slightly dismissive air, as though the matter was hardly worth mentioning, and Amy was struck by a pang that felt almost like disappointment.

‘You know very well that I never used the Clark, and I regretted ever telling you about it,’ she added crisply, remembering the way it had given him ammunition for teasing her about being far too upper crust for an ordinary state school. But at the same time it had also caused a strange sense of connection with him that he’d actually felt at ease enough with her to tease her about her family name and what it did to her initials. It had been more than he ever had with the other members of their class.

‘Dr Bowman?’ called a voice from the door, and all three of them turned to see one of the younger receptionists there. Her eyes were bright with appreciation as they travelled over Zach’s lean frame and Amy was startled to feel the sharp claws of possessive jealousy rake her when he smiled back at the young woman.

‘The police just phoned through and I thought you’d like to get the message as soon as possible,’ she said with an ingratiating smile that clearly telegraphed her availability. ‘They said to tell you that they ran that licence plate you gave them, and they’ve tracked the car down. They found clear evidence that it had been involved in a recent accident and wanted to know if it could have struck the patient. They’ll want to compare DNA from your patient.’

‘Did they leave a contact number?’

‘Oh, yes! Here,’ she purred as she offered him a piece of paper, then added in a blatant attempt at seduction, ‘And I put my number on there, too…in case you needed it for…anything.’

‘Thank you for passing the message on so promptly,’ Zach said blandly, tucking the piece of paper in his pocket unread. He turned to Ben and Amy. ‘What are the protocols in the hospital for getting permission for taking DNA samples?’

There was a silence that went on just a beat or two too long as the woman left the room, clearly crestfallen that Zach hadn’t responded to her invitation with something more personal, but as soon as the door closed behind her there was a definite response from the rest of the males in the room.

‘Hey! You’re in there, Zach!’ called one.

‘Way to go!’ hooted another. ‘That’s quick work.’

‘You haven’t even been here for a day and they’re already panting after you. You’ll have to tell us your secret,’ said a third.

‘It’s probably just that I’m new,’ Zach said dismissively, and when Amy saw the darker colour seeping over the lean planes of his face she suddenly realised that he was genuinely uncomfortable with the attention.

‘It always happens with fresh meat, male or female, or can’t you remember that far back, John?’ she teased one of the older consultants who’d joined in the catcalls. ‘Give it a day or two for her to see him haggard and unshaven at the end of a long shift and she’ll soon turn her sights on someone else.’

‘Now I don’t know whether to thank you for taking the heat off me or feel insulted that you were so dismissive of my charms,’ Zach said so softly that his voice probably didn’t reach even as far as Ben’s ears.

He’d leaned closer to her, close enough for her to see every one of those absurdly long eyelashes and the start of creases at the corners of his eyes put there, in all probability, by six months of squinting into fierce African sunlight. He was also close enough for her to be able to feel the warmth emanating from his body and smell the hint of soap or shampoo that still lingered on his skin in spite of several hours of hard and often messy work.

It wasn’t anything with a strong perfume—she couldn’t ever remember him smelling of anything other than plain clean soap and water—and when it was underscored by the individual musky scent of his skin, it made her body react more strongly than Edward’s expensive colognes ever had.

His raised eyebrow reminded her that she hadn’t replied to his last comment but her brain was so overloaded with his proximity that she couldn’t even remember what he’d said.

Luckily, her blushes were spared by a head appearing around the door to announce the imminent arrival of several ambulances and she was left with the choice of scalding her mouth, trying to finish her coffee too fast, or abandoning the mug. She abandoned it with one last longing look and a mental note to try again soon. Her brain would soon slow down if she became dehydrated.

The brain is a perverse thing, she mused an hour later as she ducked a flailing fist as she tried to position an IV.

The patient on the table was suffering from multiple injuries from a car crash, yet, in spite of the fact he desperately needed their help, insisted in trying to fight them off.

Her own brain was no more logical.

Her first response to having to leave Zach to get to work on the unending influx of patients was relief. But, at the same time, her brain seemed to be silently counting the seconds until she could see him again, desperate to know whether her initial reaction to his presence had just been the result of shock.

It must be, she told herself reassuringly. It couldn’t be anything more than a knee-jerk reaction to meeting the man she’d been thinking about just last night. She’d got over that silly crush years ago.

Really? taunted the voice inside her head. Then why are your eyes searching him out every time you walk to your next patient and why are you straining your ears for the sound of his voice?

‘That’s just because…because I want a chance to find out what happened to turn his life around,’ she justified defiantly under her breath as she pulled on a second pair of gloves to treat one of the department’s ‘regulars’—a young drug addict whose HIV had already developed into full-blown AIDS.

‘What happened this time, Tommy?’ she asked gently as she took in the battered face. The way he was hunched over with his arms wrapped protectively around his ribs told her that they were probably in the same state.

‘Some people don’t seem to like beggars,’ he mumbled painfully through split lips.

‘I think you just can’t stay away from me,’ she teased as she slowly helped him to take off the clothing hanging on his skeletal frame, hoping she wouldn’t find anything more than bruises. She didn’t know whether he had enough reserves in his system to cope with broken ribs or, even worse, a punctured lung.

‘Sorry, Doc. You aren’t my type,’ he retorted with an attempt at a smile that ended in a wince as he opened up the cut on his lip again. ‘On the other hand, that is someone I could really go for…’ There was an unexpected gleam of appreciation in his least swollen eye as he nodded at something he could see beyond her shoulder.

Amy turned to find out who had caught his eye, and there, through a gap in the curtains, was Zach, a quizzical expression on his face as he watched…what? Tommy? Her?

Their eyes met and when her heart felt as if it turned a complete somersault in her chest she realised that this was something more than the lingering memory of a teenage crush.

‘You and me both,’ she muttered with feeling, and her hands tingled with more than a remembered longing to explore the clean lines of his face and the strength of his powerful body.

Tommy laughed aloud. ‘Down, girl!’ he teased as Zach responded to the sudden burst of sound, his dark eyes seeming to find hers unerringly. ‘It wouldn’t be a fair contest…I’m in no condition to fight you for him.’

The reminder that the young man was her patient and had potentially serious injuries snapped her back to what she should be doing with a guilty start, but she still had to force herself to drag her eyes away from the man outside the curtain.

‘So, let’s see what we can do to get you back in fighting form,’ she suggested, and began to palpate the darkly bruised ribs.

‘I dunno about fighting form,’ he said around a groan of pain. ‘I’d be grateful just to have a good summer. I’d rather not be around when winter comes.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, concerned. There had been such resignation in his tone…far too much for someone who hadn’t even reached his twenties yet.

‘I won’t make it through another winter on the street,’ he said bluntly. ‘And to tell the truth, I don’t really want to.’

‘Oh, Tommy…If you had a place in a hostel…’ Amy began, but he was shaking his head before she could complete the sentence.

‘They’ll only take you in if you’re clean—off drugs,’ he clarified, in case she didn’t understand.

‘But I’m sure we could find you a place on a programme to—’

‘Not a lot of point, is there, Doc, with me in this state? Anyway, I’m not too keen on going back into the system, seeing as how it was the system that did this to me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said quietly while she systematically cleaned up his wounds one by one, taping steristrips over the cuts that would heal without stitches and leaving the worst until last for suturing. This was the most she’d ever heard Tommy say about his life but she’d known that there were dark shadows in his background—she could tell by the expression in his eyes. They held the same fathomless, wary depths that she’d first seen in…Zach?

‘I was put into care when I was about four, when my mum dumped me at the social services office, and the system was so glad they’d found somewhere to put me that they forgot about me.’

He fixed her with eyes that were uncannily like Zach’s for the amount they kept hidden, but suddenly she realised that there was also a banked inferno of emotions raging underneath his apparent apathy.

‘By the time someone thought to check up on why I kept trying to run away, the bastard who was supposed to be looking after me like a father had been abusing me for years and I was HIV positive.’

‘Oh, Tommy…’ Amy breathed, her heart breaking for all the misery he’d suffered in his life…was still suffering, she realised, confronted with the evidence of his latest assault.

‘Hey, I’m cool,’ he said with an awkward shrug, even though the slight flush of colour in his pale cheeks told her he’d been touched by her sympathy. ‘If I’m lucky, it’ll be a good summer. I’ve got no job to go to so I’ll be outside in the sunshine with plenty of time to listen to the birds and smell the flowers while I stick my hand out for money for my next fix. By the time winter comes…who knows?’ he finished with another shrug and a corresponding grunt of pain when the manoeuvre jarred his ribs.

‘Have you been taking any anti-retroviral medications?’ Even as she asked, Amy realised that Tommy’s drug abuse would probably preclude his adherence to any regular preventative treatment.

‘Nah,’ he said dismissively, obeying her silent gesture to turn his head for the next set of stitches to close the wound in his scalp. ‘They made me feel worse than coming off dope, and it was already too late to have any real effect. Anyway, if I was given a supply of drugs…any drugs…I’d more than likely be mugged for them.’

Amy couldn’t argue with that. Tommy was the expert when it came to conditions on the streets.

‘Well, you probably already know that one of the dangers now is developing an infection that your body can’t fight.’

‘So they tell me, but I’ve been lucky so far—apart from having the crap kicked out of me. Haven’t had anything more than a cold.’

The conversation died for a few minutes while Amy concentrated on making a neat job of his scalp, grateful that he’d chosen such a brutally short hairstyle as it made the task so much easier.

Finally, as she handed over to the nurse to tape a protective dressing in place, she positioned herself so that she met his gaze head on, her pen poised over the clipboard that held his notes.

‘So, Tommy, if I give you a course of antibiotics, will you promise me that you’ll take the whole course?’

‘How long is a course?’ he parried warily.

‘Just until you come back to have your stitches taken out?’ she bargained, her heart aching that there was so little she could do for him. ‘A week? Would you be able to keep them out of sight for a week?’

‘Make it five days and I’ll do my best,’ he countered, then grinned cheekily. ‘And that’s only because you asked nicely.’

‘They break your heart sometimes, the way they’ve had to survive,’ said a quiet voice just behind her, and when Amy looked over her shoulder and up into Zach’s dark eyes she realised that he understood far more about the hell Tommy had gone through than she would ever know.

‘So, who is Mr Willmott?’ said that same voice right behind her in the cafeteria queue, and Amy gasped, dragged out of her pessimistic thoughts about young Tommy’s chances of surviving into his twenties by the man who could have ended up just like Tommy, if his teachers had been right.

‘Dr Willmott,’ she corrected automatically, only remembering as she said it that, of course, it had reverted to Mr when Edward had climbed up the next rung of the promotion ladder. Not that it was relevant any more.

‘Really,’ Zach said as he took a tray from the pile and kept pace with her slow shuffle in the queue towards the hot meals. ‘I presume he works here. Is he in A and E, too, or one of the other departments?’

‘No, he doesn’t work here.’ Suddenly she felt strangely guilty to be talking about her husband with Zach, but couldn’t find a way to end the conversation without sounding rude. ‘He’s…He was killed. A year ago. On the motorway.’

The words emerged in jerky lumps. Uncomfortable. Unpractised.

After the initial ‘getting to know you’ enquiries, the other A and E staff had tactfully refrained from asking for any more painful details and she certainly hadn’t volunteered. The only people who talked about Edward any more were her parents, bewailing the loss of her handsome, successful husband every time she set foot in their house, and his parents, endlessly, when she made her duty visits.

And yet…for the first time, she actually wanted to talk about what had happened. Did this mean that she was actually coming to terms with her loss, or was it because it was Zach she was telling?

Almost as soon as they were sitting down she found the stark details pouring out of her as if she needed to purge herself of the words. Somehow, in spite of the fact that she hadn’t seen him for so many years—and hadn’t really known him well even then—she knew that she could trust him with her confidences.

‘There was a pile-up in bad weather…dozens of cars involved…a woman had been thrown out of a vehicle. Apparently, Edward saw it happen. He pulled over and got out to help and was hit by another car. He was killed instantly.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Zach said, visibly shocked and clearly at a loss for what to say.

‘He was on his way back from a conference,’ Amy went on, the words coming easier now that she’d started. ‘I didn’t even know it had happened…that he was dead…until the police came to tell me.’ She shuddered at the memory of the late-night knock at the door.

‘Did you have any children?’ he asked, a perfectly ordinary question but one that caused a familiar pang for lost opportunities.

‘No. We hadn’t got as far as starting a family,’ she admitted sadly. ‘It’s still just me and my parents.’

For a second she thought she saw something dark in his eyes at that information, but couldn’t be sure—it was gone too soon.

She knew it couldn’t have been put there by her mention of her family, because he’d never met them, but that didn’t stop her speculating that she might have reminded him about something painful in his past.

How many relationships had he had since the days when she’d sighed over him in their biology and chemistry lessons? Probably far too many to count, with his bad-boy good looks…and why the thought of all those women should cause something painful to tighten around her heart…

‘Do you still live in the same place?’ he asked. ‘The big stone house near the top of the hill?’

‘I’ve got my own place now, not far from the hospital, but…How did you know where I lived?’

There was a glimpse of that shadow in his eyes again but then it was gone, hidden behind those thick dark lashes that he still seemed to have a habit of using to camouflage his thoughts.

‘How did I know where the princess’s castle was?’ he teased, looking up from the coffee he’d purchased to finish his meal, but there was an edge to his voice that was all too reminiscent of the old Zach. ‘Everyone knew where the Bowes Clarks lived. It certainly wasn’t any secret.’

And how Amy had hated the fact that, all too often, as soon as people realised who her parents were, they treated her differently, as though family wealth made her something other than just another teenager trying to get good exam results. Unfortunately, her parents still had some sort of crazy idea that their family was somehow inherently ‘better class’ than their neighbours and that their daughter should automatically—

Her thoughts were cut off by the simultaneous shrilling of their pagers.

‘Well, we almost managed an uninterrupted meal,’ Zach said as they both hastily piled the debris onto a single tray, depositing it in the appropriate place as they hurried towards the door, knowing that the ‘multiple trauma’ message could be anything from a small handful to dozens that would require all available staff.

‘Sorry to interrupt your meal break,’ the co-ordinator said as they appeared in the department, her gaze taking on a speculative air as she saw them arrive together. ‘We’re taking in the overflow from a major motorway incident. Initial estimates of ten vehicles involved seems to be going up every time the emergency services speak to us. The last person I spoke to said it could be as many as thirty.’

‘So, where do you want us, Liz?’ Amy offered, not envying her the major logistical nightmare she was going to have to deal with over the next few hours.

‘Could you both start off processing the walking wounded to keep the decks clear for the major injuries coming in? At some stage you’ll have to be redirected to Resus as the more serious patients start arriving, but—’

‘Has someone warned the patients already waiting that they could be about to be pushed to the back of the list again?’ Zach asked with a glance towards the grid on the whiteboard that was heavily populated with the names of the people already signed into the department and waiting for attention.

‘I’m just about to do that,’ the co-ordinator said with a grimace. ‘I wanted to get my troops organised first.’

‘Bang goes the department’s performance targets,’ Amy said grimly. ‘Those politicians who think they can sit at a desk and tell a doctor how many minutes it should take to treat a patient should try coming down here and seeing what it’s like living in the real world. It couldn’t be less like a production line in a factory.’

‘Don’t get me started!’ Liz warned. ‘If they’d only pay the staff properly we’d have enough of them willing to stay to do the job. As it is, all the money seems to be swallowed up by employing more and more administrators to carry stopwatches for the politicians.’

‘I heard that there are now more administrators in the hospital than there are patients!’ offered one of the staff nurses as she moved a patient’s name from one place on the board across to the list signifying that they were now waiting their turn for X-rays.

‘Don’t depress me!’ Liz groaned with a shake of her head as Amy hurried after Zach, her voice carrying along the corridor. ‘I wouldn’t mind if the extra staff were actually doing some of the real work…cleaning floors, delivering meals or spending time with patients. As it is, it seems as if their only function is to draw eye-watering salaries for shuffling unnecessary papers…’

‘Oops! I’m sorry I spoke!’ Amy murmured with a wry grin as she and Zach stationed themselves in adjoining stations in a three-bay treatment room, donning gloves and disposable aprons in preparation for their first patients. ‘I didn’t mean to set her off like that.’

‘It’s such a sore spot with medical personnel that it’s difficult not to,’ Zach said sombrely. ‘When you apply to medical school, they certainly don’t warn you just how demoralised you’ll be by the time you finish your training. You’ve just spent years piling up debt while you slog your guts out to qualify, and you…we…can see what’s wrong and how to fix it, but they bring in someone from big business who hasn’t a clue what medical priorities are and he builds an empire of bean counters trying to run it like…like…’

‘Perhaps you should think about something else, too, or your blood pressure will be astronomical,’ Amy teased, even as she appreciated the fire in his eyes as he voiced his views.

They barely had time to treat one patient apiece before the floodgates opened and from that point on there certainly wasn’t time to conduct a debate about the shortcomings of the health service. There was time, though, for Amy to realise that Zach’s impassioned pronouncement showed a different side of his character to the Zach she’d known all those years ago.

Then he’d mostly kept his head down below the parapet, limiting his subversion to the length of his hair, his leather jacket and his motorbike. Even so, the teachers had seemed to target him for scorn and derision, belittling his work in front of his peers and denigrating his chances of ever making anything of himself.

‘If they could only see him now!’ she breathed into her disposable mask as she hurried to lend him a hand putting in a drain when a patient collapsed spectacularly with a previously undiagnosed flail chest. Every movement was swift, decisive, accurate and, in its own way, beautiful to watch. There was absolutely nothing of the juvenile delinquent in this caring, dedicated man.

‘Thanks for your help,’ he said, the slightly gruff tone to his voice her only clue to the fact that he’d been worried whether he would be able to sort out the problem before it resulted in brain damage and heart failure.

‘You’re welcome,’ she said with a smile that answered his relief, and suddenly knew that there was more to the words than their social meaning.

It had only been a matter of hours since she’d been tempted to try to track him down on an internet website. Not wanting to destroy her teenage fantasies, she’d decided against finding out what had happened to him but, as if by magic, he’d reappeared in her life.

‘So, where do I go from here?’ she murmured, groaning as she tried to stretch the kinks out of her neck and shoulders after long minutes spent retrieving far too much of a shattered windscreen from a child’s face. It was going to take the expert techniques of their most experienced plastic surgeon to minimise the scarring that would be a permanent reminder of this day. In the meantime, she could step out of the way while the cubicle was cleared of debris and readied for the next patient and lean back against the nearest wall to allow her spinal muscles to recover. She didn’t even have the energy to remove her gloves or apron.

‘You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?’ Zach demanded, his shoulder almost touching hers as he joined her against the wall. ‘I thought you were settled in the area?’

Amy blinked at the unexpected questions, belatedly realising that she must have spoken her own thoughts aloud.

What could she say? I was just wondering whether I had any more chance of attracting you now than I did as a teenager?

‘I am settled, I think. I’m close enough to my parents so that visiting them doesn’t have to be a major time-consuming trek, yet far enough away so I can call my life my own…’…More or less, she added silently, hoping she hadn’t grimaced at the thought of the way the two of them still tried to organise her life for her.

Which reminded her, she thought with a barely stifled groan.

There had been a message on her phone earlier, reminding her that she was supposed to be attending some ‘do’ this evening. She certainly couldn’t remember what it was about—with her father a stalwart member of so many prestigious committees and boards of governors, there was usually something at which it was ‘imperative’ she show her face.

She also had a sneaking suspicion that, now that a year had passed since she’d been widowed, her mother was trying to be surreptitious about using the events to introduce her to a selection of ‘suitable’ men from whom she would be expected to choose another husband.

Not that her parents could ever find fault with her first choice, as they told her ad nauseam, but if she was ever to provide them with the grandchild they needed if they were to pass on their inheritance…

For just a second she toyed with the idea of inviting Zach to go as her partner, but it was definitely a less shocking idea than it would have been when he’d sported his unruly hair and an attitude to match. He might still ride a motorbike, but as a fully qualified doctor, the rebel was now well and truly part of the establishment.

Anyway, if she did ever get up the courage to invite Zach to go out with her—or vice versa—the very last place she’d want to go to fulfil her fantasy would be anywhere under her parents’ eagle eyes.

She glanced up at the clock, hoping for a moment that the current workload would give her the excuse to phone and cancel, but no such luck.

‘Clock-watching?’ Zach asked while she was still trying to work out some way of avoiding an evening of tedium. ‘Got a hot date this evening?’

‘Hardly!’ She laughed. ‘Just a command performance at some semi-formal function—some committee or other—and the very last thing I want to do after a shift like this. I can’t imagine anything worse than being herded into a room full of people spouting inanities, plied with white wine so acid that you could use it to clean drains and offered very pretty-looking “nibbles” that are totally tasteless unless they’ve been overloaded with salt and artificial flavourings when I’d far rather have a hearty plate of spaghetti Bolognese or carbonara.’

Zach chuckled. ‘I remember that about you—the way you could always put away about twice the calories of any other woman and still stay so slim. And you had the best brain in the class. No wonder the other girls were jealous of you.’

Simultaneously embarrassed by the praise and delighted that he’d noticed anything personal about her, she forgot to keep a tight rein on her tongue.

‘If they were jealous of me it was because I had the sexiest boy in the class as my lab partner,’ she countered, then groaned in humiliation, mortified that she couldn’t remember what she’d last touched with her gloved hands and so couldn’t even cover her red face. Furious with herself for putting her foot in her own mouth, she stripped the gloves off and flung them into the bin then made a performance about donning a clean pair.

‘The sexiest boy in the class?’ he repeated with a dawning grin. ‘Really? If only I’d known!’

‘You must have known!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s why you always grew your hair so long, wore the leather jacket and rode the motorbike…a motorbike, by the way, that everyone in the class, male or female, wanted an invitation to ride.’

‘Ready for your next one?’ prompted Liz in the doorway behind them while Amy was still desperately wanting to call back her words. If only there was a way of turning the clock back just one minute. ‘We’re down to the last few who were delayed by the influx from the motorway.’

‘Wheel them in,’ Zach invited in a resigned tone that completely disappeared as soon as Liz’s head did from the doorway. Then he took several long strides to bring him close enough that their shoulders touched as he leant against the wall beside her, his broad muscular one against her more slender one.

Below the short sleeves of their faded green scrubs his firm flesh was hot and darkly tanned against her cooler, paler skin, but she shivered at the intimacy of the contact, overwhelmingly aware that he was doing it deliberately.

‘One day,’ he murmured for her ears alone, ‘I might tell you why I really dressed that way.’