Читать книгу The Doctor's Rescue - Kate Hardy - Страница 9

MALLORY checked out of The Limes that evening and settled into Will’s cottage. It was small and functional—and it had no feminine touches, so clearly he hadn’t been living with the girl who’d hurt him. There weren’t any photographs to give her a clue either. The only three in evidence were one of a couple she assumed to be Will’s parents, one of a brown and white Border collie, and one of Will with another man. A man who looked so like him—albeit blond—that he had to be Will’s brother. Both of them were smiling. Will’s full-wattage smile was even more breathtaking than she’d guessed it might be.

And then she noticed where they were. At the top of a mountain.

If Will was a climber, why had he made such a fuss about safety? And a keen climber who was about to have an enforced lay-off would surely have made some remark about wishing they could change places. She certainly would have done.

Something didn’t quite add up.

She shook herself—it was none of her business—and familiarised herself with the rest of the cottage. The kitchen-cum-dining room was again basic but functional—there was bread in the bread-bin, cheese and butter and milk in the fridge, a bowl of fruit in the middle of the scrubbed pine table and the wine-rack was half-full. She pulled one or two bottles out to look at the labels. It didn’t look as if Will drank a lot—but what he did drink was good stuff. Very good stuff, she thought. This was a man with definite tastes. Good taste.

His living room was filled with books and CDs—there wasn’t a television, she noted, though the hi-fi system was a seriously expensive make—and his bathroom was spartan but the water was hot and plentiful. He wouldn’t be able to have a bath until his leg had healed a bit more, but he could probably manage a shower. Though he’d need a plastic garden chair to sit on so he didn’t have to balance precariously on one leg. From the little she’d seen of him, she guessed that losing his independence would be the worst thing for Will.

His small garden contained a tiny shed which was just large enough to store a lawnmower and a minimal collection of tools, but held no garden furniture. The garage didn’t yield anything either. Clearly gardening wasn’t one of Will’s interests. Though a trip to the local DIY superstore netted her a sturdy plastic chair that just about fitted in the shower.

She slept well for the first time in weeks, and Will was waiting impatiently for her the next morning, dressed and ready to go. He was actually drumming the fingers of his free hand on the table, she noted with amusement. And someone had clearly given him a shave. Will Cooper scrubbed up very nicely indeed.

Not that she should be thinking about him in that way. Renee was absolutely right. She needed a fresh start where her work wasn’t linked to her personal life. Falling for her new boss would be a complete no-no.

‘I’ve been waiting for ages. I thought you’d never get here,’ Will complained.

‘There’s no point in being here at eight if the rounds don’t finish until eleven,’ she said sweetly. ‘Thank you, Mallory, for coming to pick me up.’

‘Thank you, Mallory,’ he repeated, flushing at her gentle rebuke.

She grinned. ‘Come on, oh grumpy boss. Let’s get you home.’

Then she realised what she’d said. Home. As if it were their home. Hadn’t she already been through why they weren’t and never could be a couple? Hopefully he’d take it as meaning just his home.

She wheeled him out to her car and together they managed to cram him into the passenger seat of her small Renault.

‘I’ll have to get you insured to drive my car,’ Will said as she drove them back to Darrowthwaite.

‘Why?’

‘If we get bad weather and you have to do a house call, you’ll need a four-wheel-drive. The roads round here can get pretty icy,’ he told her.

‘Whatever.’ She wasn’t precious about always using her car. And it would be the sensible thing to do. ‘I’ve got my driving licence with me so you can fax it to the insurance company if you need to.’

‘Good. Sounds as if we’re on the same wavelength.’ He gave her a half-smile that made her feel all shivery inside. She just about managed to force herself to concentrate on the road instead.

When they arrived at his cottage, it took a while to manoeuvre him out of her car. She hadn’t thought to borrow a wheelchair so she had to help him with his crutches. But eventually they made it, and Will groaned in relief as he sank onto the sofa. ‘I could really do with a glass of wine after that. A nice cold Chablis.’

‘Not with co-proxamol,’ she said crisply.

His face mirrored his disgust. ‘That’s the one bad thing about sharing a house with another doctor. You know as much as I do,’ he complained.

‘You can have tea—or tea.’

‘Coffee?’ he tried. ‘Please?’

‘As you’ve asked nicely,’ she deadpanned.

She came back a few minutes later with a tray of coffee and cake.

Will perked up. ‘Proper coffee? I thought you didn’t do cooking?’

‘This isn’t cooking. It’s a necessity,’ she said, depressing the plunger on the cafetière and pouring the hot liquid into two mugs. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Neither, thanks.’

‘That’s easy, then.’

‘Mmm, and that’s nice,’ he said after his first sip. ‘Lucky guess or did someone tell you?’

‘What?’

‘Maple pecan’s my favourite.’

She smiled. ‘Neither. It’s mine.’

He looked at the tray. ‘Gingerbread, too. Better and better. All you have to do now is tell me you like anchovies on pizza and you’ll be the perfect housemate.’

‘I detest anchovies,’ she said feelingly.

‘Win some, lose some.’ He took another sip of coffee. ‘Seriously, Mallory, I appreciate you rescuing me. For the second time.’

‘Just don’t make a habit of it,’ she said lightly.

‘I’ll try.’ He paused. ‘So…what made you choose the New Forest?’

She nearly dropped her coffee. ‘What?’

‘You love mountains. And you can’t get much further from good climbing areas than the New Forest. Why not Wales, or Derbyshire, or Scotland, or here?’

She was silent for a long time. But he was a skilled doctor and she recognised how good he was at using the doctor’s greatest weapon. Patience. In the end, she decided to give in. Tell him. ‘Charles was my dad’s best friend at medical school. He offered me a job in his practice. He thought it’d be better for me to get some experience in another practice rather than going straight to join my dad and brothers. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘Probably was.’ He looked at her. ‘So what happened to your climbing?’

‘There was a climbing wall at one of the sports centres nearby, and I spent my weekends here or in Derbyshire. I had a couple of weeks in the Rockies one summer.’ She smiled. ‘And I did the Three Peaks challenge—Ben Nevis, Scafell and Snowdonia. Charles, bless him, let me have the time off without having to use my holiday entitlement, because I was raising money for a local charity.’

‘But?’

She stared into her coffee. ‘I think I would have had to leave anyway. Even without the Lindy situation.’

‘Because you need the mountains.’

That, and because of Geoff. Not that she could tell Will about him. Even the thought of Geoff made her feel guilty. ‘Well. Maybe I’ll climb Everest one day. Though competition’s tough for places on an expedition.’

‘If it’s what you really want, go for it.’

There was a strange, shuttered look on Will’s face—a look she couldn’t interpret. What had she said to upset him? Had the woman who’d broken his heart gone on an expedition and not come back? Had that been the accident Hayley had mentioned—had Will been on the same expedition and felt bad because he’d been the one to come back and his girlfriend hadn’t?

But she couldn’t ask him straight out, not without being nosy or rude, and if his girlfriend had died she didn’t want to rub salt into his wounds.

Mallory took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Monday’s surgery.’

‘It starts at half past eight. There’s a practice meeting on Monday afternoons, too. Then house calls, if that’s OK?’

‘Ye-es. I was just wondering…would you like to sit in on my first surgery? If you feel up to it, of course.’

He frowned. ‘Why? Your details checked out. Actually, I spoke to Charles myself this morning. Before you came to pick me up.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What did he say?’

‘You’re a good doctor but you need to sort your life out.’

Had Charles told him about Geoff? Was this Will’s way of telling her he knew all about it? ‘Sort my life out,’ she echoed nervously.

‘And trust your own judgement.’

‘So he told you about Lindy.’

Will shook his head. ‘I told him what you’d told me. And he said the same thing that I did—it was an honest mistake, it could have happened to anyone and you shouldn’t give up medicine over it.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘He also said he thought you’d be happier up here, and said we should fine you twenty pence for every time you mention the c-word. Or the m-word.’

Mallory relaxed again. So Charles hadn’t mentioned how nearly she’d been his daughter-in-law. Or maybe Charles hadn’t thought she was right for Geoff either, but hadn’t wanted to interfere in his son’s life. ‘They used to do that at the practice, and buy cream cakes for everyone on a Friday with the proceeds,’ she said wryly. ‘And if there wasn’t enough in the kitty, they’d start asking questions where I’d have to answer “climb” or “mountain”!’

‘Noted. I’ll get Marion onto it,’ Will said dryly. She wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not until he added, still straight-faced, ‘And bearing in mind where we are, I’d say it’ll be more like two rounds of cream cakes a week.’

‘Meanie,’ she retorted, smiling back. ‘Seriously, Will, I’d be happier if you sat in. Just so you can see whether I’m good enough to fill in for you.’

‘Mallory, I have every faith in you. You just need to get your confidence back. But if it makes you happier, of course I’ll sit in,’ he said.

The weekend went incredibly quickly. Will was a good host, with charming manners, though Mallory noticed that he rarely smiled, and never properly—not like in that photograph. And it wasn’t just post-accident pain, she was sure. Every so often he’d simply clam up. He’d get this intense, brooding look that told her very clearly to back off, so she didn’t push it. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she might have said to upset him. Or why he didn’t smile.

At least he’d meant it about not expecting her to be domesticated. He’d even suggested that they should work their way through every take-away in the high street, one by one—and, even better, put the washing-up straight in the dishwasher. The cottage might be small and spartan in most respects, but Will had the mod cons that really mattered. Not to mention the fact that he lived near a superb pizzeria.

She spent Sunday on Scafell—after making Will promise he’d ring on her mobile phone if he needed anything—and walked her demons off. And before she knew it, it was half past eight on Monday morning. Will was in the consulting room beside her, propped in a chair with his crutches close to hand. He’d just had time to show her where he kept everything, and it was time to face her first patient.

Her first patient since Lindy had been hospitalised…

‘This is Craig Clarke and his mother Rita,’ Will said. ‘Rita, Craig, this is Dr Mallory Ryman—she’s standing in for me for a while.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Rita said. ‘First on the scene when Dr Will rescued Kelly, weren’t you?’

‘Something like that.’ Mallory smiled back at her. No doubt the Darrowthwaite grapevine knew that she was Will’s house guest, too. There had been half a dozen visitors over the weekend, all bearing fruit or home-made cakes or chocolates for their ‘Dr Will’. And the amount of get-well-soon cards and pictures waiting for him at the surgery, drawn by his younger patients, had to be seen to be believed. Will was clearly popular with his patients. ‘So what’s up with you, Craig?’

The small boy sniffed. ‘Mum says she’s sick of me having a cold. She says you’ll give me some antibiotics,’ he finished, ‘to make me better.’

‘If it’s a just cold, antibiotics won’t work, I’m afraid,’ Mallory said gently. ‘How long has Craig had a runny nose, Mrs Clarke?’

‘Off and on, as long as I can remember. It’s like a constant cold. Sniffles, a cough…’

‘Any wheezing?’ Mallory asked.

Rita shook her head.

‘Is it worse at any particular time?’

‘Weekends,’ Rita said. ‘And at night—he coughs something chronic at night.’

It was beginning to sound more like some kind of allergic illness, Mallory thought. Possibly asthma. ‘What do you normally do at the weekends, Craig?’

He shrugged. ‘Help Dad with the sheep, play in the barn.’