Читать книгу Return of Dr Maguire - Judy Campbell, Judy Campbell - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

THEY STOOD FOR a moment on the doorstep, looking towards the barns, the outside light from the surgery casting a beam across the courtyard and the ladder that Lachlan had been using. It was raining heavily now and the sound of it drummed on the roof and made huge puddles across the yard.

Then above that sound there was a muffled crash as if something heavy had fallen. A scream came from one of the outbuildings, and a hooded youth ran out into the beam of light, the raindrops silver as they landed on his frightened face. He looked wildly around and then darted back into the building. Titan barked excitedly and rushed after him.

Christa drew in a sharp breath. ‘I know that boy—it’s Carl Burton. He’s a patient! What’s he doing in the barn?’

‘I’m not waiting to find out,’ growled Lachlan. ‘Is there a torch anywhere?’

He ran quickly across the yard and Christa flew to the surgery, scrabbling round in a drawer to find a torch, and instinct telling her to grab the emergency medical bag she kept locked in a cupboard by her desk. She was back in the barn inside two minutes.

The light in the outbuilding was dim, but in the torch’s beam they saw a boy lying on the floor, ominously still, his legs splayed at an awkward angle. His face was so pale that the large gash over his forehead looked as if it had been painted on. A piece of wood had fallen from the roof and was wedged above him at an angle. Carl Burton crouched by the victim’s side and he looked up at Christa and Lachlan with a mixture of fear and bravado on his face.

‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Lachlan, darting forward and pushing Carl out of the way. ‘Let me see what the damage is.’

Carl backed away from the victim. ‘Is he dead?’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Has he been killed?’

Lachlan put his fingers on the boy’s neck to feel his carotid artery. He raised his eyes to Christa’s questioning look and nodded. ‘He’s still with us...better get some help, PDQ.’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Carl blurted out. ‘Greg saw that ladder. I told him not to climb on the roof, but he did. He was being stupid, standing on one foot and waving his arms about. Then he...he...dropped, like a stone...’ He stopped, putting his hands over his face.

‘That’s why he’s got to be treated as quickly as possible.’ Lachlan’s voice was brusque. ‘It’s lucky we were here.’

Christa pulled her mobile out of her pocket and flicked it open, punching out numbers. She walked over to the doorway as she spoke, glancing back at Lachlan bent over the victim’s body. Christa felt an almighty surge of thankfulness that she wasn’t alone in having to cope with things.

‘Ambulance and the police services, please—Dr Lennox here from the Ardenleigh Practice in Errin Bridge. I need the air ambulance for a serious leg, head and possible spinal injury to a youth who’s fallen from a roof just by the practice. My colleague and I will try and stabilise him, but he needs hospitalisation without delay. If you could inform St Luke’s to have an orthopaedic surgeon and anaesthetist on standby, please.’

‘We’ll have to do our best until they get here,’ observed Lachlan. He pulled back the upper lids of the boy’s eyes. ‘Pupils dilated,’ he murmured to himself, then examined the victim’s body, checking his head and other visible injuries. ‘He’s not bleeding too much from this head wound...’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Carl looked up at Lachlan hopefully.

‘I’m afraid it’s not the same as just banging your head on a cupboard. Hitting your head at speed can give rise to arterial bleeding, and he’s had a tremendous crack to his forehead, besides his possible back and neck injuries and a broken leg.’

Christa bit her lip. Had the boy’s spine survived the impact of falling from the roof? Could they keep him alive until the paramedics arrived with their specialist equipment? She looked closely at the young boy’s face, where a bruise was developing around the gash on his forehead.

She drew in her breath. ‘Oh, God, I know this guy too...he’s Gregory Marsh, aged about sixteen.’ Her eyes met Lachlan’s. ‘Are you thinking acute subdural haematoma?’

He nodded and bent low over the boy, saying clearly, ‘Do you know where you are, Gregory?’

After a few seconds the boy whispered, ‘I’m in the barn, aren’t I?’

‘That’s right, Gregory, well done. Now, where does it hurt? Can you tell us?’

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, his breath rasping, his face contorted with pain. ‘My leg...bloody hell, it’s my leg,’ he muttered.

‘You can feel your leg, then?’ A measure of relief in Christa’s voice.

‘Of course I can feel my effing leg...’ he croaked. ‘It’s agony...’

‘Let’s look at this leg,’ said Lachlan briskly. ‘Can you cut his jeans?’

Christa used a pair of scissors from the bag to cut the leg of the jeans very gently from the distorted leg. They both looked down at the limb, which was gashed and swollen. Protruding through the gash was a white piece of bone.

Christa grimaced. ‘A compound fracture, not very nice...’

‘Poor blighter—it needs splinting.’

‘That’s OK. We’ve got some we use for the mountain rescue work. I’ll get them.’

‘Give me your bag of tricks and I’ll put some sterile dressings on these open wounds, and give him a ten-mil shot of morphine for the pain.’ Lachlan looked down reassuringly at Gregory and laid a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was a gesture not lost on Christa. Physical touch was an incredibly important and soothing thing, and reassurance could reduce the severity of shock—it was as important a medical tool as any conventional treatment.

‘Don’t worry, Gregory, you’re in good hands and we’ll soon have you in hospital.’

Christa went to get the collapsible splints and returned swiftly, snapping the splint joints into place and laying them out. The two doctors worked as gently as possible to immobilise the leg by strapping the limb to the splint, but Lachlan kept flicking a wary look at the beam above them, jammed across most of Gregory’s body. Christa heard him suck in his breath.

‘Bloody hell—can you hear that beam creaking?’ he muttered. ‘The whole damn thing could fall on top of us. It has to be moved.’

‘I don’t know how...’ began Christa.

He turned to Carl, watching them mutely, his face as white as a ghost’s. ‘I tell you what, Carl—you can help me try and push it out of the way.’

‘Don’t even think of doing that!’ Christa’s voice was sharp. ‘The helicopter will be here soon—’

‘And that could be too late. If I could get underneath it, I could lift it out of that gap in the wall and with Carl’s support we could push it to one side.’

She stared crossly at Lachlan. ‘Suppose you get crushed?’

‘If we wait for that damned air ambulance to come, the boy will need more than a spinal brace and a leg splint.’

Christa got up from Greg’s side and pulled at Lachlan’s arm. ‘Do you want there to be two casualties, for heaven’s sake?’

He shook her arm away irritably. ‘I’ll be OK. We haven’t got a choice—look, it’s swaying again...’

For a second they looked at each other stubbornly then Christa shrugged, acknowledging that Lachlan was right. They couldn’t just ignore the situation—something had to be attempted. She looked around the barn desperately. There were some old packing cases and dust sheets by the wall near Carl. She began dragging them across to Gregory and shouted to Carl.

‘Come on! Help me get these over Gregory to protect him before you start tampering with the damn beam—put the sheets over him and then the packing cases like a cage. It might just take the shock if the beam falls.’

‘Why can’t we just pull him away from it?’ asked Carl.

‘Because,’ said Christa in a low voice, ‘we don’t know what damage Gregory’s done to his spine. If he’s damaged it in the fall, we could sever it.’

They worked feverishly to construct some sort of barrier between Gregory and the chunk of wood wedged over him, then Lachlan slid his body underneath it to the side of the injured boy, so that he could try and shift the beam from where it was so precariously perched. There was a tense silence: Gregory’s eyes fluttered open again and he focussed them on Christa.

‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.

Christa’s voice was calm. ‘Nothing to worry about, Gregory, just making sure the beam’s secure. Everything’s under control.’

She hoped devoutly that that was the case, and indeed something told her that if anyone could handle an emergency like this, Lachlan Maguire could. She watched him tensely as he manoeuvred the beam, calm but concentrated, no sign of panic. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised by his competence—someone who worked with the Flying Doctor service had to be able to think on his feet, quite an asset for someone she was going to work with.

Lachlan pulled the rag from his pocket and wound it round his hand to try and get more purchase. ‘Come on, Carl—I know you’re in shock, but you’ve got to help me, for your mate’s sake.’ His voice was tough, uncompromising. ‘Give me a hand to try and shift this. While I push it up, get your arms round it to pull.’

Both men grunted with the effort of trying to shift the wood away from over Gregory’s body, and eventually, with a final push and a shout of warning from Lachlan, it fell harmlessly to one side.

‘Thank God,’ whispered Christa, blowing out her cheeks and closing her eyes in relief. Lachlan climbed stiffly to his feet with a relieved grin and dusted his hands together.

‘There you are—nothing to it!’ He went across to Carl. ‘Thank you for helping there,’ he said quietly. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you. Now, tell me how all this started.’

Carl hung his head and muttered, ‘We...we were trying to get at the guttering—we saw the ladder and Greg thought it would be easy. I told him not to, but he started pretending he was a high-wire act and just fell from the beam up there.’

‘Were you trying to nick the lead?’

‘We didn’t think nobody would miss it. We didn’t mean any harm, we just needed a bit of cash...’ The boy started to shake at the memory of the accident, wrapping his arms round his thin body, rocking slightly on his heels.

Lachlan looked at Carl’s white face. ‘You feel all right?’

The boy shook his head helplessly as if unable to express just how he felt. ‘I...I just can’t believe it... Seeing it happen...’

His voice petered out, not equal to describing what he’d just seen, and Lachlan nodded, recognising all the signs of violent emotional shock in the boy. What Carl had witnessed had happened with appalling swiftness, with no time for him to prepare or adjust to the situation. His senses were stunned by the events and Lachlan recognised all the signs of ‘onlooker reaction’. He put his arm round Carl’s shoulder and drew him to the wall.

‘I want you to sit down here. Your body’s got a touch of shock, just as much as if you’d had a physical injury. After a nice hot cup of sweet tea you’ll feel much better.’

The boy’s face relaxed slightly. He hadn’t been expecting any kind words, but they helped to calm him, bring back something of normality to his fractured emotional state. There’d be plenty of condemnation later, thought Lachlan wryly.

Christa attached an oximeter peg to Gregory’s finger to get a readout of his vital signs.

‘What’s it like?’ said Lachlan.

Christa grimaced and murmured, ‘BP’s low, eighty over fifty. Not surprising, and his pulse is thready. How’s the pain, Greg?’

The boy stirred slightly but didn’t speak, and Lachlan looked at his watch.

‘How long are they going to be?’ he growled.

Then through the beating of the rain on the roof there was the sudden clatter of a helicopter’s rotors overhead, the sound increasing in volume as it descended somewhere near the surgery. Christa sent up a silent prayer—they’d arrived just in the nick of time.

‘Where will they land?’ asked Lachlan, as he and Christa exchanged relieved glances.

‘There’s a field beyond the woods at the end of the garden, they’ll put down there. It’ll only take them a few minutes to get here now.’

Lachlan got to his feet and went to the door to meet them, and very soon three men in bright orange outfits and luminous jerkins with ‘Doctor’ and ‘Paramedic’ labels across them came running across the courtyard. Lachlan gave a quick résumé of Gregory’s visible injuries and what he and Christa had done so far to stabilise him.

‘He’ll get a full body scan, and the theatre’s on standby,’ said the doctor accompanying them. ‘He was damn lucky that he had you two near him when he decided to do his sky-walking exploits.’

The paramedics set up a drip and strapped a spinal board on Gregory, with an oxygen mask over his face, and Carl started to sidle surreptitiously towards the door. One of the paramedics stopped him, looking at his pale face and trembling hands.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he enquired.

‘No. I’m OK.’ The voice was sullen, uncooperative.

‘Why don’t you come with us for a check-up, eh?’

A vehement shake of the head. ‘I’m OK, I tell you. I’m going home.’ He jerked his head in Gregory’s direction. ‘He’ll be OK now, won’t he? You don’t need me.’

‘Oh, yes, we do, my friend.’ A burly policeman had appeared at the barn door and stood in front of the boy. ‘We need a few names and addresses, young man. A little bit of information as to how this happened, if you please.’

He led Carl out of the building. The boy looked pathetic, shoulders drooping, and his jeans hung so low around his hips they were barely able to stay up. He looked back at Lachlan and muttered, ‘Will Greg be all right?’

‘Hopefully, but he won’t be climbing around on roofs for a while,’ remarked Lachlan drily.

* * *

The emergency services had gone and it had stopped raining as Christa and Lachlan walked back across the yard, Titan trotting proudly beside them, as if aware that he had been the first to alert them to the emergency. Lachlan stretched, flexing his stiff lower back, which had taken the strain of him pushing the beam away, and took a deep breath of the clear air. The velvety night sky had cleared of cloud and was twinkling with a tapestry of stars. In the distance was the sound of the sea, whooshing in and out on the beach.

‘God, that smells good. How I’ve missed that special Highland tang,’ he murmured. ‘I’d forgotten just how intoxicating the air can be in this little corner of the world.’

‘How many years since you’ve been here, then?’

A short silence, then he said roughly, ‘Too many...but it’s good to be back.’

Christa looked at the bleak expression on his face, and felt a moment’s impatience. If he had missed home so much, why hadn’t he come back occasionally to see his mother, a woman on her own? Christa was tempted to ask outright what had kept him away, but she sensed that that would be a question too far at the moment.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. So much had happened in the last hour and she should have felt drained, but instead she felt the kick of adrenalin after a job well done. Together they’d managed to keep Gregory alive, to retrieve a situation that had looked almost impossible.

She was profoundly grateful that Lachlan Maguire had been there—almost unwillingly she admitted that he’d been pretty impressive, efficient and reliable. Just the kind of person one would want in an emergency. She flicked a glance at his tall figure beside her—perhaps, after all, she was prepared to believe that he was as good as he said he was at his job!

‘I...I’m glad you were here. In fact, if you hadn’t been, I think the ending could have been very different. Thank you,’ she said.

‘Do you think our young friends are the culprits who’ve been nicking stuff from here?’ he said.

‘Could be... They’re both patients but I haven’t seen them for ages. From his odd behaviour on the roof I wonder if Gregory’s on something Anyway, they’ll do plenty of tests at St Luke’s.’ Christa sighed. ‘I’ll bet his parents don’t know what he’s up to—or are turning a blind eye to the situation.’

‘They’re going to find out soon,’ said Lachlan grimly.

‘God—it was a bit scary, like being back in A and E again. I thought we’d lost him, and he had so many injuries...’ Then she puffed out her cheeks, laughing up at Lachlan, her amber eyes dancing with relief. ‘But it was a great feeling that we kept him going till the paramedics came, wasn’t it?’

He looked down at Christa’s dust-covered face turned up to his, and a feeling of affinity with a colleague after a job well done intensified into something else—the treacherous flare of sexual attraction. For a second his eyes roamed over her heart-shaped face and wide eyes, as if seeing her properly for the first time, and he sucked in his breath. Good God, she was absolutely ravishing...and desirable.

Almost absent-mindedly he touched her cheek, wiping away some mud and allowing his finger to trail down her jaw. He smiled at her, then without warning he bent his head down and brushed her lips with his, slowly, deliberately, fiercely.

‘You shouldn’t look so bloody beautiful,’ he whispered against her ear.

Christa remained motionless for a second then touched her lips where his had been. They felt full, tingling and soft, and for a second she was bewildered. Where the hell had that come from, or had she just imagined it?

Then a feeling of outrage swept through her—Lachlan Maguire had the cheek of the devil!

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded icily.

He laughed. ‘Come on—you’ve got your headmistress look on your face again! It was just an expression of thanks for a job well done. Am I to sit on the naughty step?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘We seemed to work rather well together, that’s all! A spur-of-the-moment thing!’

‘You took a damn liberty!’

He looked rather penitent, but his blue eyes danced at her mischievously, and he gave his most disarming grin. ‘It was just a little gesture of, er, thanks,’ he protested. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you—it was a sort of compliment!’

Christa opened her mouth to say something cutting then shut it again because for a minute Lachlan looked so like a naughty schoolboy that, despite herself, she felt an urge to giggle. Obviously the impulsive kiss that had sent her reeling meant absolutely nothing to him—just a bit of fun.

And yet, she admitted to herself, the truth was that every single nerve in her body had seemed to respond with a longing for something more, something much more intimate, something that would repeat the fireworks that had seemed to explode so suddenly around her as his mouth had plundered hers. It was as if a switch had been thrown, and something that hadn’t worked for a long time had been kicked into action.

She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and decided the best response was to try and treat the episode with dignified aversion.

She buttoned up her jacket, and said rather pompously, ‘Don’t expect a repeat performance, Lachlan—I took you on as a work colleague, not a rake!’

He burst into laughter. ‘Come on...it doesn’t suit you to take life so seriously, Dr Lennox! I thought you secretly wanted to press your lovely body close to mine...’

This was a little too near the truth. Christa flushed and said indignantly, ‘Don’t be silly!’

Lachlan assumed a more contrite expression. ‘Don’t be cross. I’m sorry if I took you by surprise, but I know we’ll make a very good partnership.’

Those amazing eyes danced winningly into Christa’s, almost like a caress in itself, and although she was really mad at him, she couldn’t help smiling back. They were going to have to work together amicably, she told herself, so there was no point in maintaining a frigid atmosphere. She’d just have to be on her guard in the future. After all, wasn’t it typical of some males to take relationships as casually as picking sweets from a jar?

Then, dangerously, the thought echoed in her mind that if one kiss could practically send her into orbit, making her heart clatter in her chest and a thousand butterflies seem as if they were fluttering somewhere around in her stomach, what would it be like if they made real, proper love?

Titan whimpered and Christa bent down to ruffle the little dog’s head, grateful of the distraction to her thoughts. ‘Poor old Titan, you want your supper. In all the fuss I’d forgotten that. Come on, then—home time now.’ She turned to Lachlan and said lightly, ‘See you soon.’

As she walked home through the still night Christa’s heart beat a tattoo against her ribs, and even her legs felt slightly wobbly. It had been so long since any man had caressed her or kissed her—so long since she’d fancied anyone enough to do so. But out of the blue, out of nowhere, had come a man she didn’t know at all, sending her into a spin! She came to her front door and her hand trembled slightly as she tried to put the key in the lock.

‘What’s the matter with me, Titan?’ she asked the little dog. ‘Have I gone completely mad?’

* * *

Lachlan closed the door, leaning against the wall for a minute, and took a deep breath, reflecting on the effect two soft full lips could have on a man when they were pressed to his mouth. He hadn’t expected his body to respond so urgently, and wondered what on earth had possessed him to kiss Christa after a mere afternoon’s acquaintance. Then he grinned to himself—because she was so damned beautiful, of course, and didn’t the thought of shocking that rather prim, headmistressy personality rather appeal?

He was used to casual relationships—never commit yourself because they never lasted, was his mantra. Take your pleasure where you could. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake his parents had—get married, supposedly for life, and then destroy the family with a bitter and cruel break-up.

Perhaps he’d gone a step too far with Christa Lennox, expecting her to take his kiss as casually as he had—but life was for living and having fun, wasn’t it? Except, of course, he’d forgotten that one person he should keep at arm’s length was someone from the Lennox family. And neither had he bargained for the fierce longing he now had to kiss Christa again—and more.

* * *

‘Isobel’s son? I don’t believe it!’ Alice Smith’s large blue eyes looked at Christa in amazement, and she paused in mid-action as she pulled open a filing-cabinet drawer. ‘He’s a bit late, isn’t he? Isobel’s funeral was a week ago!’

‘Nobody knew where he was, and he only heard she’d died a few days ago,’ explained Christa.

Christa and the two receptionists, Alice Smith and Ginny Calder, were having a quick cup of coffee before the Monday morning surgery, and Christa had been regaling them with the previous day’s events in the barn. Both girls goggled in disbelief at Christa.

‘Where’s he been, then, all these years?’ asked Ginny, the elder of the two receptionists, her eyes popping with surprise behind her thick-lensed glasses.

‘He’s been working in Australia—it took a time to find out where he was.’

Alice stuffed some papers into the files and said thoughtfully, ‘It was sad, wasn’t it—to stay away as long as he did. I wonder what happened.’

‘I remember him,’ recalled Ginny. ‘He was a handsome lad, and I know he was the apple of his mother’s eye. She was so proud of him.’

‘Well, what went wrong?’ asked Alice bluntly. ‘How come she never spoke about him?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘No one knows, except that Isobel’s husband left her around the time that Lachlan went off to college—and, of course, Lachlan was never seen again. How long’s he staying?’

Christa put her cup of coffee down on the desk. ‘Actually, it’s not just a flying visit—he’s going to work here permanently. Isobel left him a letter saying that she wanted him to take over the practice. And he’s decided to do that. She’s left the house to him.’

‘What?’ Alice closed the filing-cabinet drawer with a crash and turned to her in amazement. ‘But...but I thought you would be taking over... It doesn’t seem fair.’

‘It’s OK, Alice. We’ve talked it over, and he’s coming in as an equal partner. He understands that, at least for a trial of six months. And anyway we need another doctor, that’s for sure. Even before Isobel died we were pretty stretched.’

‘Since Colin Maitland left, I suppose... I hope Lachlan’s nothing like him,’ said Ginny sharply, then watching Christa’s face she grimaced and clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. But you’re over Colin now, aren’t you?’

Christa smiled brightly. ‘Of course I’m over him,’ she said robustly. ‘I can assure you I won’t be taken in by any other con men, however charming!’

‘And is he charming, this mysterious Lachlan?’

Christa shrugged, trying to look as casual as possible. ‘He wasn’t so charming when I thought he was a burglar—he was up on the roof inspecting the gutter, and I shouted at him. I got a frosty reception, I can tell you!’

‘We want more information than that!’ protested Alice. ‘Is he single or married, good looking?’

‘Now, why do you want to know that?’ teased Christa. ‘You’ve got a lovely boyfriend. But for general information, yes, he says he’s single, and I suppose some people would say he’s not bad looking. Not that I find him attractive,’ she lied.

Of course the truth was that she’d found it difficult to get that mind-blowing kiss from the night before out of her head. To him it had been just a casual brush of flesh on flesh, but in her imagination she could still feel the imprint of that sensual mouth on hers, and the feeling of exploding stars and fireworks it had produced! She took a deep slurp of coffee, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice the blush she was sure was spreading over her cheeks.

‘Ah!’ Alice said with satisfaction, her eyes meeting Ginny’s with meaning.

‘What do you mean, “Ah”?’ Christa looked sternly at Alice and Ginny. ‘I can assure you both I’m off men for good, however eligible. I can promise you that if George Clooney were to go down on bended knee and give me a million pounds to marry him, I’d send him off with a flea in his ear! I’ve no ambition to have a wedding ring on my finger!’

A discreet cough from the doorway and they all whirled round. Lachlan was standing there, a suspicion of laughter in his startling blue eyes, but the expression on his face was impassive.

Christa’s cheeks crimsoned, and she jumped up in a flustered way, swallowing whole the biscuit she was eating. Had the darned man heard her inane comment about marriage as he’d stood there?

‘Sorry to interrupt you all,’ he said smoothly. ‘I know I’m not starting work until next week, but I just wanted to know if you’d had any word about how that young boy is from last night’s accident...’

Christa rearranged her features quickly from shock to welcome. ‘Oh, Lachlan, it’s you!’ She turned to Alice and Ginny and cleared her throat. ‘This is Lachlan Maguire—Isobel’s son. Alice and Ginny are the backbone of the practice, Lachlan. We couldn’t work without them.’

He looked like someone out of central casting for the lead in a medical drama, she thought, noting irritably how Alice goggled at him with frank admiration. He unleashed a charming smile.

‘Then I must keep on the right side of them!’

‘I was telling them what happened yesterday,’ she explained, then felt her heart begin to race as she remembered just what had happened between them after attending the accident.

Lachlan grinned, his eyes holding hers rather too long. ‘Plenty happened, that’s for sure! I was pushed in at the deep end all right.’

Christa looked away hastily and added some more sugar to her coffee, stirring it vigorously. Alice looked at Lachlan rather like a puppy given a special treat.

‘I believe you’re going to be working here with us permanently,’ she enthused.

‘Yes, that’s right. I know it’ll be a steep learning curve, but I’ll do my best. I look forward to getting to know you all.’

He smiled urbanely at them, and Christa could see Alice melting under his easy charm, although Ginny looked more wary. Perhaps, thought Christa, she was a little more cynical than Alice, wondering just why a son should lose touch with a lovely woman like Isobel, then suddenly appear out of the blue after she’d died.

‘A cup of coffee?’ enquired Alice, still staring at him as if mesmerised.

‘Thank you, just a quick one. I guess you’re pretty busy and I don’t want to hold you up. As I say, I just wanted to find out about the young lad who was injured last night.’

Christa nodded. ‘I rang the hospital a few minutes ago. He’s injured vertebrae in his back, and he’s being operated on this morning for his leg—he’ll pull through, though.’

‘That’s the good news I was hoping to hear before I see the builders this morning. There is one more thing, however. I wondered if it would help if I started on a part-time basis this week—I could get to know the ropes, and if I came with you on one or two visits it would familiarise me with the area again, after so long away.’

Of course it would help. Christa had been sleepless for many nights, wondering how she could cope with the work that was piling up. But she wasn’t so sure that being close to Lachlan Maguire was a good thing so soon after her experience with him the night before. She’d rather have liked that episode to fade into the past.

‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any need to—’

‘I think that’s a great idea,’ interrupted Ginny. ‘You’ve been working yourself to a frazzle over the past weeks, Christa. You accept any help that’s offered!’ She turned to Lachlan. ‘Visits are usually done around midday to two o’clock after morning surgery.’

Dear Ginny—she was like a mother hen where she, Christa, was concerned, and she’d been marvellous when Isobel had died, staying late to reorganise surgeries, bringing Christa meals to eat at the surgery. But sometimes she was just a little too fussy!

‘Right!’ Lachlan said briskly. ‘I’ll be back, then. See you later.’

When he’d gone, Alice turned to Christa and said accusingly, ‘You misled us there! You said he wasn’t bad looking...’

‘Well?’ asked Christa innocently.

‘You ought to go for an eye test...he’s absolutely gorgeous!’

‘Beauty,’ said Christa grimly, as she picked up a pile of blood results and went towards the door, ‘is in the eye of the beholder!’

‘Quite so,’ agreed Ginny tersely, as she reached out to answer the phone.

‘Will you listen to yourselves?’ demanded Alice in disbelief. ‘I can tell you, that man’s made my pulse go into overdrive! You two must be made of stone!’

* * *

Lachlan stood for a moment before he got into the car and looked back towards the surgery, amusement flickering across his face. So Christa Lennox wouldn’t get married for a million pounds—even to George Clooney! What the hell had brought that on, a bad experience perhaps?

He grinned to himself. It was a delicious irony that she should say that she wouldn’t marry at any price, when one of his mother’s ridiculous suggestions in her letter to him had been that he should get married. And that, of all people, Christa Lennox should be the bride!

Well, that was one proposition that wouldn’t be fulfilled! He was damned if he’d be manipulated by his mother from beyond the grave, however much he regretted her death and wanted to atone for his quarrel with her.