Читать книгу Celebrity in Braxton Falls - Judy Campbell, Judy Campbell - Страница 7

ARCHIE settled happily in front of the television while his father went to see Frank in the local hospital, which was about five miles away across the valley in the larger town of Laystone. Denovan said he would probably stay an hour and find out what the prognosis on Frank was.

Kerry put on the kettle and started to make a quick supper for herself and Archie. She flicked a look at the little boy, endearingly quaint with his round glasses perched on the end of his snub nose, his jaws moving rhythmically as he devoured a little bowl of raisins. He seemed an adaptable child—obviously well used to adjusting to new people and situations.

‘Would you like some pasta?’ she enquired.

He didn’t take his eyes from the screen. ‘No, I don’t like pasta, thank you.’

‘What about some baked beans, then?’ Kerry rooted around in a cupboard looking for suitable food.

‘No, I don’t like baked beans, thank you.’

‘Then what do you like?’

Archie dragged himself away from watching the flickering screen. ‘I like chips and burgers and ice cream and crisps and chocolate,’ he said firmly.

Kerry’s lips twitched in amusement—evidently his parents didn’t bother about healthy diets!

‘Is that what you’re allowed at home?’

Archie fixed Kerry with his bright blue eyes and nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. Daddy says I can have what I want.’

‘Right, well, I’ll see what I can find,’ she promised, wondering where Mummy fitted into the picture.

A few minutes later Kerry collapsed on the sofa next to Archie and tucked into her pasta, giving the little boy some ice cream she’d found at the bottom of the freezer, and both of them sat in silence, one absorbed in the television, Kerry starting to look through her mail and flicking through the newspaper she hadn’t had time to read that day.

The room was warm and she fought against drifting off to sleep—it had been a hectic twenty-four hours, and she was feeling the effects of cramming a lot of things into a short time with little sleep. Archie leant cosily against her like a little hot-water bottle and she looked down at the top of his head. He was such a lovable little boy, even if his father was the arrogant Dr Denovan O’Mara!

She sighed softly. A year ago her future had seemed to be mapped out—a wedding, a loving husband, hopefully followed by children like Archie. Then all that had been taken away from her brutally and swiftly, and the children and family life she longed for were nothing but a faded dream.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of the front door opening just as she closed her eyes in a troubled doze. Denovan walked into the room then stopped suddenly when he saw his son and Kerry relaxed together on the sofa. Archie had his head against her shoulder, and Kerry had one arm round him, her freshly washed dark cloud of hair tumbling over the cushion she was leaning against, mouth slightly open as she dozed. He smiled wistfully at the picture they presented—it twisted his heart to see Archie nestled up against Kerry, for it seemed to highlight the lack of a motherly figure in his precious son’s life.

He sighed and pushed that thought to the back of his mind then leant forward and touched Kerry lightly on her shoulder. ‘Sorry to disturb you when you both seem so comfortable,’ he said.

Startled, Kerry sat bolt upright on the sofa and stared at him in surprise. ‘You’ve hardly been gone any time!’ she exclaimed.

‘I haven’t been able to get to the hospital,’ Denovan explained drily. ‘The wind’s brought down several big trees by the riverbank and the bridge has collapsed—there’s no way over the river now, so getting anywhere out of the village at the moment is impossible. It won’t take much for the river to burst its banks completely.’

‘What?’ Kerry gently put Archie to one side and stood up, staring in disbelief at Denovan. ‘The village is cut off altogether? So what’s happening down by the river now?’

He shook his head. ‘People are working like mad, putting sandbags or anything else round their properties to keep the water out. But the most immediate problem is that a woman’s trapped under part of the bridge wall that’s collapsed.’ His face was grave. ‘I’m sorry to say I’ll have to drag you away. We’re both needed urgently, and this woman needs medical help. There’s no way an ambulance can get through at the moment. There are people trying to free her, but she’s bound to have injuries—we should be there.’

The day she’d thought could get no worse had reached rock bottom, thought Kerry wryly. A disaster in the village and no backup from essential services. Kerry hauled on her cagoule and pushed her feet into some wellingtons—she flicked a look at Denovan’s stalwart figure and suddenly she was extremely grateful to have him with her to help, pompous and arrogant man though he was.

‘We’d better take my car,’ she said. ‘It’s a small estate so we could get her up to the surgery in that if necessary. We keep some equipment there for the Mountain Rescue Team—a stretcher, a collapsible splint, blankets and a neck collar, that sort of thing. We can call in and get them.’

‘A good idea,’ said Denovan. ‘It’s very cold out there.’

Kerry noticed the little boy looking solemnly at them both. ‘We’ll drop Archie off at Daphne’s—she’s only a door or two away and I know she won’t mind.’ She bent down and smiled at him. ‘You know that nice lady who gave you biscuits and hot milk this afternoon? We’re taking you to stay with her for an hour or two while your daddy and I go and help a poorly lady.’

Archie’s mischievous blue eyes gleamed. ‘Will she give me some more biscuits?’

‘I dare say she will.’ Kerry smiled. ‘Come on, let’s go!’

A small crowd had gathered round the bridge where the river started to run through the village. Car headlights were trained on the dramatic scene where the woman lay trapped, with her legs pinioned underneath the collapsed stones. The lashing rain glinted on a million drops in the beams of the light, and the river looked very full; it was obvious that the bridge had been swept away.

Kerry’s eyes widened in horror as the enormity of the situation hit her. ‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed, scrambling out of the car. ‘How on earth will we get her out without equipment?’

Denovan opened the car tailgate and lifted out the blankets. ‘We’ll do it somehow,’ he said confidently. ‘You’d be surprised what a few strong men can do.’ He gave her a quick grin of encouragement. ‘You keep the lady calm and assess her condition and I’ll help these men to lift that rubble.’

Kerry turned to a woman on the edge of the little crowd. ‘Have you any idea who’s under all that rubble?’ she asked.

‘She’s Sirie Patel. She runs the Post Office and shop on the corner, poor woman. She never stops working—if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have a village shop.’

Kerry pushed her way through to the stricken woman, forcing herself into professional mode and forgetting her own shock that it was her friend Sirie who was hurt. She didn’t deserve this, giving so much of her life to the community, allowing those who were hard up to pay her ‘next time’, lending a ready ear to listen to the woes of any of her customers. It wasn’t fair.

In her next life, thought Kerry grimly as she packed the blankets as best she could around Sirie in the howling wind and stinging rain, she would come back as something less stressful than a GP trying to calm a terrified woman trapped under a bridge wall with water gushing over her. Perhaps she’d have a career as a lion tamer or a high-flying trapeze artist!

She pushed a folded blanket gently behind Sirie’s head, all the time talking to her, reassuring her that she was being looked after. Kerry knew the psychological importance of making sure the victim was aware that she wasn’t alone but in safe and capable hands.

‘It’s all right, Sirie, love, we’re here to help you now,’ shouted Kerry above the noise of the rushing river. ‘Try and stay calm. Here, hold my hand and grip it tightly. If you keep as still as possible, there’s going to be no danger.’

Oh, how she hoped that was true! The river was so very close and fast, the roar of it filling their ears. She had a horrible vision that if Sirie were to slip into it when they released her, she could be swept down into the torrent. It was a steep hill, and even though it was raining and dark, the ribbon of lights along the road at the bottom of the valley could be seen clearly, twinkling many feet below.

Kerry looked across at Denovan lying on his stomach close to Sirie as he tried to see where her legs were trapped, and if the two large slabs of stone were actually compressing the limbs. She admitted to herself that she hadn’t expected a man like Denovan to hurl himself into the situation as he had—to be so hands-on. He’d surprised her, but after the way he’d lost his cool with her earlier, she wasn’t about to become his biggest fan. However, she admitted grudgingly, she was very grateful that he was there, and revealing himself to be so competent.

He scrambled up and crouched near to Kerry, his eyes looking searchingly at the victim’s face. ‘How is Sirie?’ he asked. ‘Bearing up?’

‘Very shocked. She’s in considerable pain, and her pulse is quite thready—of course I don’t know what her sats are or her BP. I’ve morphine in my bag so perhaps you’d dig it out. Any sign of outside help yet?’

‘I’ve rung for an air ambulance, seeing nothing else can get through here at the moment,’ said Denovan, rummaging through Kerry’s bag to find the morphine. ‘The reception was incredibly bad, but I think they’ve got the gist of it. It sounded like a ten-minute ETA.’

Sirie’s grip on Kerry’s hand was fierce. ‘Will they be long getting me out?’ she whispered, screwing her eyes up. ‘I don’t know how long I can stand this …’

‘It’s all right, Sirie, you’re going to feel more comfortable very soon. Dr O’Mara’s just going to inject you with something that’ll make you feel much easier.’ Sirie’s eyes fluttered open. ‘What about my girls?’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got to pick them up from their Brownie meeting.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll make sure that they’re looked after. One of the mothers will take them to her house,’ Kerry assured her. Thank heavens for a small, close-knit community, she thought. They did look out for each other here.

Denovan tested the syringe he was holding, then smiled down at Sirie. ‘Hang in there. Ten mils of this magic stuff will help you to relax. In fact, you’ll feel on top of the world, as if you’ve had two double whiskies …’

Sirie’s face flickered into a frail, brave smile. ‘I’m teetotal, Doctor,’ she whispered. ‘I never touch the stuff!’

‘Well, now you’re about to find out what you’re missing,’ he joked. He turned to Kerry, his voice low enough so that Sirie couldn’t hear him but audible to Kerry above the noise of the voices of the men and the howling wind. ‘We’re nearly there now. Keep your fingers crossed.’

Kerry bit her lip, watching the last stones being inched away from Sirie’s legs, praying that the muscles in the legs wouldn’t be badly crushed. Whatever damage Sirie had suffered, it was imperative that she was hospitalised as soon as possible.

She watched the men grunting and groaning as they tried to lever the stones up without slipping in the thick mud around the site. Denovan and two other men had placed the stretcher on the ground as near to the bridge as possible and were waiting to pull the victim out as soon as they dared. It was a tense few minutes and Kerry kept up a low flow of conversation with Sirie, distracting her from the shouting and noise of falling rubble that was going on around her.

At last, with infinite care, Sirie was lifted away from the broken bridge and placed as gently as possibly on the stretcher. Kerry and Denovan bent over her to examine the damage that had been done to her legs. One lay awkwardly, bent at a strange angle with multiple contusions and a large gash down the shin bone.

‘We might have guessed Sirie wouldn’t get away without any injury,’ said Denovan, straightening up. ‘That left leg’s almost certainly broken, from the way it’s positioned. It’s taken the brunt of the fallen wall, but I don’t see a protruding bone, so hopefully it’s not a compound fracture.’

Kerry squeezed Sirie’s hand comfortingly, and Sirie’s large, scared eyes looked from one doctor to the other. ‘Am I going to have to have an operation?’ she asked in a quavery voice.

‘Until you’ve had X-rays we won’t know for sure. First thing we need to get you to hospital.’ Denovan squatted down next to the frightened woman and smiled kindly at her. ‘You’ve been absolutely great—really brave. Just hang on a little longer.’

Kerry was amazed at how sensitive Denovan could be, what a contrast to the impatient doctor of an hour or two ago. He seemed to have another, softer side to him that he’d hidden well when she’d first met him—perhaps he was just very good at acting!

He was looking at the raging river a few feet away from them. ‘Perhaps we’ll move Sirie nearer the car first and then strap her leg.’

Kerry followed his glance and swallowed hard. Was it her imagination, or did the water seem higher than it had been? It looked as if the river would burst its banks any second and completely cover the road.

‘OK, Doc, but let’s do it before the whole damn things goes,’ urged one of the men. ‘Hopefully the helicopter will be here soon. It’ll land on the field at the top of the village.’ They slid the stretcher into the back of the estate car, although it wouldn’t go in completely, and Kerry bound the affected leg above the site of the fracture to the splint—just securing it enough to stop it from being bounced around. Four men, including Denovan, supported the stretcher as Kerry drove very slowly back through the village to The Larches. As she left the scene, she heard a sudden commotion behind her—a roar of water, the cracking of trees.

‘What’s happening back there?’ she shouted, keeping her eyes glued ahead of her.

‘The river’s burst its banks—we got Sirie out just in time,’ yelled one of the men.

Oh, the relief when the little entourage eventually reached the medical centre—three stalwart figures in familiar orange and green emergency suits were racing down the road to meet them.

‘We’ve managed to land in the field at the top of the road,’ panted one of the paramedics. ‘You did well to get this lady out when you did. I believe the river’s completely out of control now. We’ll just do an assessment of the victim before we move her any farther—get a take on her oxygen levels, BP, etc.’

Kerry leant against the car and watched Sirie being monitored by the medics. If the men in the village hadn’t managed to free her so quickly, there might have been a tragic end to the story, she thought with a shudder. She glanced across at Denovan, who was talking to one of the paramedics and watching as they assessed Sirie’s condition.

‘Can you get word through to the other emergency services that the village needs help?’ he asked one of the paramedics. ‘My mobile’s not getting through to anyone at the moment and someone’s just told me some power lines are down.’

Sirie was eventually taken away, wrapped in a foil heat blanket to keep her body temperature up, and soon the clatter of the helicopter’s rotor blades were heard as it rose in the air and headed off across the valley. Kerry brushed a weary hand of relief over her eyes—what a way to finish the last twenty-four hours! Adrenaline had been pumping through her for the last hour, but suddenly the drama was over and she felt drained of all her energy.

‘Tired?’ asked Denovan, his eyes looking critically at her exhausted-looking face.

‘A little,’ she admitted, then added with sudden can-dour, ‘Actually, I feel I could go to sleep on a clothesline for three days after all that’s happened. I’m going to leave the car here, I think, as I thought I heard something important give a horrible crack as we set off with Sirie, but I’ll look at it in the morning.’

‘You need a hot drink,’ he ordered, mock-severely. ‘And perhaps something a little stronger, if you’ve got anything in. Come on, I’ll walk you to your house before I pick up Archie.’

‘You’ve no need to,’ protested Kerry firmly. ‘It’s late. You go and get Archie now.’ She wasn’t about to get too chummy with an unpredictable man like Denovan just because he’d helped out so much that evening. She was still smarting at the conversation she’d had with him earlier.

‘Your house is on the way to Daphne’s so I might as well see you back first,’ he said easily.

They went up the hill together silently, heads down against the wind. In the dark it was hard to see the path, and although Kerry moved cautiously, the pothole she stepped into took her by surprise. Suddenly she sensed the ground coming towards her face and flailed her arms to keep her balance and stop her smashing against the asphalt of the path.

In an instant Denovan’s arms were round her waist, pulling her towards him. ‘Steady does it,’ he murmured.

She gasped in surprise, momentarily winded, and for a second she clung on to him, dazed at the speed of it all, braced against his rocklike frame. Feeling the rough texture of his chin stubble rasping against the softness of her face, and the cold damp clothes he was wearing pressed against hers somehow seemed embarrassingly intimate with someone she didn’t know—but nevertheless she leaned into him, prolonging the contact, relaxing as she savoured that sensation of protection, the physical strength of him. And unexpectedly for an extraordinary moment she felt the unmistakeable flicker of physical attraction for Denovan O’Mara, a man she’d instinctively disliked since she’d spoken to him on the phone that morning.

A poignant memory of being in another man’s arms floated into her mind, and in her imagination she was close to Andy again, so close that she could feel the thump of his heart against hers, enclosed in the warmth and safety of the man she’d loved so much only twelve months ago. But how long ago that seemed now, another life away …

Then the wind blew cold against her face and she was back in the present, and to her embarrassment tears welled up in her eyes. Her grief for Andy was still very near the surface, and she felt a funny little shiver of guilt, as if she’d betrayed his memory. She stepped back from Denovan hastily, almost shoving him away from her, and gave a nervous laugh.

‘I’m so clumsy …’

‘It’s pitch dark—no wonder you lost your footing. Are you OK?’ he asked, his hand taking her arm in an iron grip again. ‘We don’t want another casualty, do we?’

He looked down into her eyes, his own glinting with amusement, rivulets of water running down his face, his teeth white in the shadows, the lean planes of his muddied scratched face showing up every so often in the headlights of the cars coming up the hill and away from the flooding.

There was no doubt about it—he was a very attractive man. Kerry’s heart did a stealthy double beat and the treacherous flicker of attraction flashed through her again, and to her shame in her imagination she pictured herself kissing this man, feeling his firm mouth on hers, his cheek against hers. Then she looked away, sick at heart. How could she fancy another man so quickly? It was Andy she wanted, missed so desperately, and no one could fill the gap he’d left. What on earth was she thinking of—allowing herself to imagine anything intimate with a man she didn’t even like?

‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she said distantly. ‘Just lost my footing for a second.’

‘Lucky I’m here, then, isn’t it?’ he murmured, his hand still holding her arm as they went into the warm little cottage.

He flicked on the light switch. ‘A miracle,’ he remarked. ‘The power’s still on.’ He looked at Kerry’s white face and said sternly, ‘You need some sleep. Get up to your bedroom, and I’ll bring you a hot drink when you’re actually in bed.’

Denovan looked pretty tired, as well. His face was covered with mud, as was his hitherto immaculately tailored suit—the trousers were ripped and the sleeves of the jacket almost torn away from their seams. But it was his hands that Kerry noticed with horror—torn, bleeding, the nails jagged—they had been badly damaged in the race to free Sirie.

‘Oh, Denovan, your poor hands!’ She forgot that she disliked the man and without thinking took his hands in hers and looked down at them in distress. ‘You’ve got to get these cleaned as they’re very badly cut. There’s disinfectant in the bathroom cupboards.’

He pulled them gently away from her. ‘Don’t worry, Doctor, they’ll be OK. It’s just a few surface abrasions.’

Kerry bit her lip. Why had she done something so personal as holding his hand? It implied a degree of intimacy with him that she certainly didn’t feel.

He said briskly, ‘Now, I’m going to make you some hot cocoa with a nip of whisky in it. It’ll do you a world of good.’

Kerry didn’t argue, too tired to dwell on her embarrassment at holding his hands, but stumbled into her room, not even bothering to pull off her clothes. She collapsed onto the heavenly soft bed in her filthy clothes, and as soon as her head hit the pillow her eyes closed, and she never heard Denovan come upstairs with a mug of cocoa.

Denovan put the mug on the side table and smiled down at her wryly. No wonder the woman was exhausted—she’d had a lot to cope with since the night before. For a few seconds he looked at her recumbent slim figure, her tangled dark hair spread across the pillow, long eyelashes sweeping over her high cheekbones. Those delicate looks belied the toughness she’d shown tonight in the raging storm, he reflected.

He grinned, forgetting for a moment how tired he was. It was hard to believe that a few minutes ago he’d held this beautiful woman in his arms, felt her soft body pressed to his—and very nice it had been, too! And hadn’t it reminded him very forcibly that despite the so-called glamorous social whirl he was supposed to enjoy, he’d led a pretty monastic life over the past few years despite his years in the limelight and being featured with nearly every glamorous young woman in London? Since Archie’s mother had left he was wary of being linked to any one woman. And anyway, he had to be very choosy—whoever he took up with had to be very, very special, someone who would cherish his little boy as much as he did. And, he thought sadly, show more affection for Archie than his own mother ever had.

He supposed that someone like Kerry would have a boyfriend. Obviously she wasn’t married, but she was an attractive and successful woman. Fleetingly he wondered how she could work with a bastard like his brother—but he guessed that Kerry was pretty feisty and she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. Or perhaps it was more likely, Denovan thought cynically, that his brother had hidden his true character from her. After all, that was Frank’s stock in trade—pretending to be something he wasn’t.

Gently he placed the duvet over her and turned to go out of the room, nearly falling over a large suitcase with a folded dress draped on top of it by the door. He bent down to look at the labels and raised his eyebrows. It looked like Kerry was, or had been, going on holiday—Frank’s stupid accident had obviously meant that she’d had to forfeit that. No wonder she’d been a bit tetchy with him. Her plans had been ruined and instead of a fairy-tale holiday she was back at work for a long stint if Frank’s injuries were as serious as they thought they were.

He went down to the little kitchen and stretched before flopping down in a chair, his elbows on the table, and closed his eyes for a second. Although he felt exhausted, he had decisions to make before he returned to London. His contract with the television company was ending, but the company wanted him to front another programme about the general health of the population, and he was wondering whether he really wanted to take on more work. Wondering, in fact, if he actually wanted to do any more television work at all.

On the face of it, his life had all seemed so glamorous and exciting, working in a place with a buzz to it, mingling with the good and the great, knowing that he had a certain cachet amongst his colleagues. But the truth was he was bored with answering people’s queries and giving his opinion on hypothetical questions—and the boredom was beginning to show. He was easily irritated, becoming autocratic if someone didn’t agree with him, used to having his own way.

Tonight had made him realise that he was becoming further and further removed from the practical care of the patients he’d loved treating. He’d just been thrown into a situation a few hours ago where he’d used the skills he’d been taught at medical school and as a result he felt alive, stimulated, his body humming with the unaccustomed rush of adrenaline. It had been so rewarding to help in Sirie’s rescue, working in a team and establishing a relationship with the victim, persuading her to put her trust in himself and Kerry. It had been worthwhile—and how long had it been since he’d felt like that at the end of a day’s work? A few years ago he’d have given anything to achieve what he had done in the media world, but suddenly it was beginning to seem a very hollow world.

He rose restlessly from his chair, went to the back door and opened it. The wind had died down and it had stopped raining, and there was a sweet country-fresh smell from the fields. He took a deep gulp of the crisp air into his lungs; he’d forgotten how much he’d loved Braxton Falls, the little valleys and the rolling hills. It had been the best part of his childhood, growing up in the countryside. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it since he’d left six years ago after falling out so spectacularly with Frank. His father had wanted them both to take over the practice when he retired—but Denovan had known that working with his half-brother was an impossibility. After what had happened, they could never live near each other again, and so he’d ended up in London and his life had taken a very different direction from anything he’d imagined.

He closed the door and turned back abruptly into the room. He would have to go and collect Archie from Daphne’s house, and then tomorrow start thinking seriously about his future, because it wasn’t just his future that was affected but his dear little son’s—and he was the most important thing of all.