Читать книгу The Rebel Of Penhally Bay / Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Midwife / Falling For The Playboy Millionaire / A Mother For The Italian's Twins - Kate Hardy - Страница 13

‘JAMIE! Get up! You’ve got to be at school in twenty minutes, and I need to get Mum up and dressed before I go to work in half an hour, so I haven’t got time to drive you!’

‘For God’s sake, bro, chill! I’ll be fine.’

‘No, you’ll be late,’ Sam said, stripping off the quilt and hoisting Jamie out of bed one-handed. ‘Now get washed and dressed and get to school before you get suspended.’

‘I should be so lucky,’ he mumbled, but Sam wasn’t going to pick that one up in this lifetime, so he went downstairs and found his mother tangled in her bra.

‘Oh, Mum, let me help you with that,’ he said gently, and sorted her out, getting the straps in the right place and then hugging her as the tears of frustration filled her eyes. ‘Come on, you’re doing so well.’

‘It’s just all so unnecessary! If only it hadn’t happened…’

‘I know. But it did, and luckily Gemma was here.’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘Sam, don’t hurt her.’

He stared at his mother in astonishment. ‘Me, hurt Gemma? Mum, she walked out on me!’

‘But she loves you, Sam. It’s so obvious.’

‘Not to me, it isn’t.’

‘Well, then, you’re blind, and you probably don’t deserve her. Come on, help me into that top and then you’d better go or you’ll be late for work.’

He waited until she was settled in her favourite chair opposite the window with a view over the harbour, and then he paused.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked, still torn about leaving her, but she just smiled sadly.

‘I’ll have to be, Sam—and you’re not exactly far away. And I’ve got the phone and all I have to do is press 1 and I’ll get the surgery, so I’ll be fine, and I’ve got Digger for company. Go on—and take Jamie to school or he’ll be bunking off again.’

‘For heaven’s sake, he should just—’

‘Please, Sam. He’s in enough trouble.’

‘OK, I’ll take him. There are drinks in the fridge, and I’ll leave the back door unlocked so Lauren can get in. And don’t boil the kettle!’

‘No, darling,’ she said with a long-suffering smile, and he kissed her cheek, grabbed his keys, yelled for Jamie and started the car.

‘Linda?’

‘Gemma? Hello, sweetheart. How kind of you to drop in.’

‘Not at all, it’s always a pleasure to see you. I’m parched. Do you fancy a cup of tea?’

‘Oh, I’d love one! Sam won’t let me near the kettle at the moment, and I know fruit juice and water are good for you, but, oh, I do miss my tea!’

‘You’ll be telling me in a minute that he’s hidden all your chocolate,’ Gemma teased, and Linda rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t. Don’t even go there. He rations it. I don’t know where he keeps it, but I’m allowed one square a day, apparently. Too much saturated fat. And it has to be the dark stuff, like you said, or he won’t let me have it at all. He’s a tyrant.’

‘But you love him.’

‘And I’m not alone, am I?’ she said softly, and Gemma nearly dropped the teapot.

‘Linda, really—I don’t think—’

‘Don’t panic. He doesn’t see it, but if he’d only give you both a chance…’

‘Linda, he doesn’t like me.’

‘Sam? Of course he likes you. He’s just wary. Now, I don’t know what went on between you two, and it’s not my business, but he hasn’t been the same since you left. He’s like he was after his father went—defiant and defensive, but I thought he’d get over it—get over you, but he doesn’t seem to have done. So—don’t give up, Gemma. Please, don’t give up. Not without trying.’

‘Don’t give up what?’

‘Sam!’

This time she did drop the pot. It slipped through her fingers and hit the worktop, and only Sam’s hand flying out to steady it prevented an accident.

‘Guilty conscience?’ he murmured, and she turned and glared at him.

‘Not at all! You frightened the life out of me, sneaking up behind me like that!’

‘Sneaking? It’s my house! I’m allowed to walk in—and I didn’t sneak. I’m just not noisy.’

‘I didn’t hear your car.’

‘That’s because I could see yours here, so I left it at work and walked home in case there wasn’t room on the drive. I’ll go and pick it up later—take the dog out for a run. So is there tea in that pot, or are you just posing for effect?’

She nearly threw it at him.

‘Ron Reynolds is home.’

Sam was lounging in the doorway to her room the following afternoon, and Gemma looked up from her notes.

‘Is he? Good. How’s he doing?’

‘OK. It was an MI, so he’s another one on anticoagulants for your INR checks. They’ve done a balloon angioplasty apparently and he’s much improved. He’ll need checking on, but he should be all right to come here to your clinic.’

‘Well, if not I’ll ask Rebecca to do it. So how come he knew you? Because it sounds as though he did, quite well.’

Sam’s face was wry. ‘Oh, he did. He lived quite near us, and I guess he had quite a lot to put up with. I took their washing off the line one night and hung it in the top of the fir tree in the front garden. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for his daughter’s underwear. She was a bit of a goer, Amy Reynolds, and her underwear was a legend.’

Gemma laughed. ‘And were you familiar with the underwear before this occasion?’

He chuckled. ‘Sadly not—well, only from the washing line. We could see it from the top of the tree in the Tremaynes’ back garden next door. Jack, Ed and I used to go up there and try and spy on her through her bedroom window.’

‘Sam!’

‘What? We were about fourteen! We were just kids, Gemma. We didn’t know anything about sex then, really. It was just a bit of harmless fun.’

‘You weren’t so harmless when you were nineteen,’ she said rashly, and then could have bitten her tongue as he went still.

‘No. But that was different, Gemz. You were my wife.’

Gemz. He’d only ever called her that when they were alone. She looked away, her mind flooded with memories. Intimate memories, of the time they’d spent together. His touch, his soft, coaxing voice, his gentleness—his passion, finally unleashed and exquisitely shocking in its awesome power to thrill her. She swallowed hard. ‘Sam, I—’

‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘It’s in the past, Gemma. Let’s just leave it there. I have to get on. I’ll see you.’

And shrugging away from the doorpost, he crossed the landing and went down the stairs, and she listened to his limp and wanted to cry for everything they’d lost and the fact that there just didn’t seem to be any way back.

Damn.

He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t think about anything other than Gemma, about how she’d felt in his arms, how much fun they’d had, the laughter they’d shared, and how it had felt to hold her long into the night, just talking about anything and everything.

He couldn’t remember anything they’d not been able to talk about, and yet now—now every conversation seemed to lead back to them, and the fact that they’d split up, and it was like a minefield. And he knew, from bitter personal experience, just how dangerous they could be.

But he couldn’t stay away from her, couldn’t ignore her. Couldn’t, despite his best efforts, manage to keep away. And at the bottom of his heart, hidden low down behind all the disillusion and pain, was a gut feeling that there was something going on, something he hadn’t known about—something she was keeping from him. So maybe she was right. Maybe what they needed to do was try again, see if they could make a go of it this time—and maybe now she’d trust him enough to share whatever it was that had taken her away from him.

No. He felt himself recoiling from the idea, curiously unwilling to disturb the status quo, the unstable truce they seemed to have established. Perhaps to try and pick up their relationship where they’d left off was too much, too soon—but what if they wound the clock back further, maybe, to when they’d met? Pretended they’d just met now, that they were strangers and they were attracted to each other and they were just starting out?

Would it work? Give them a chance to get to know the people they were now, and see if there was any way forward from there?

He didn’t know, but he was going to give it a damn good try, because his time back in Penhally had proved to him, above all else, that he couldn’t live without her. Not live. He could exist, as he’d been existing for the last eleven years. But live? No. Not without his beloved Gemz.

So he’d suggest they start from scratch, as if they’d just met. Strangers. It could be interesting. Fun. And maybe…

All he had to do was talk her into it. Whistling softly, he left his consulting room and ran upstairs and tapped on her door, but it was opened by Lara Mercer, the other practice nurse.

‘Ah. Is Gemma here, Lara?’

‘No, sorry Sam, she’s gone home. She said something about dropping in on your mother on the way, but that was half an hour ago.’

‘Right. OK, thanks.’

‘Is there a message?’

‘No. No message.’ At least, not one he’d leave with anyone.

He drove home, wondering if she’d still be there, and she was, so he pulled in behind her—to stop her getting away? Maybe. Then he went inside, calling as he did to avoid the possibility of her accusing him of sneaking up on her.

She was just leaving, picking up her bag and keys, and he wondered if she’d seen his car pull up and decided to get out of his way. He couldn’t blame her if she did, because every encounter seemed to peel another layer off their defences.

‘Could you move your car for me, Sam?’ she asked, not quite looking at him, but he wasn’t ready to let her go.

‘Can we have a chat first?’

She looked at him, searching his face for clues. ‘What about?’

He gave a crooked, slightly uncertain smile that tipped her heart off kilter. ‘Oh, this and that. Can we take the dog and go up to the headland? He could do with a little run.’

She hesitated, but then Linda came out into the kitchen and kissed Sam on the cheek. ‘Hello, darling. I’m just going to have a lie-down for a few minutes. It’s been a long day. Call me when you get back from your walk.’

So there was no excuse she could give him, no way she could suggest that his mother needed him, not while she was sleeping.

She nodded. ‘All right,’ she agreed, but her heart was pounding and she didn’t know what he was going to say. Probably nothing. She was being silly, it was probably about Linda or work or telling her he was going back to Africa.

He picked up the lead and Digger was there, coiled ready for action, and he clipped it on, opened the door and ushered her out.

‘Well?’ she asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer. They were up on the headland; they’d walked up Harbour Road to the church at the top of the rise with its pretty lychgate, and now they were heading down to the lighthouse on the end of the promontory, above the cliff. And she couldn’t bear it any more.

‘Can we sit down?’ he suggested, and she looked at the grass. It had been sunny all day, it might be dry enough. And they’d often sat on the headland and talked.

‘Sure,’ she said, and watched as he lowered himself carefully to the ground and stretched his left leg out in front of him, bending the other one up and wrapping his arms around his knee.

‘Sam?’ she prompted when he still showed no signs of speaking, but even then he didn’t say anything or look at her, just stared out over the sea while Digger sniffed around his feet and finally lay down. And, like the dog, she resigned herself to waiting patiently until he was ready.

‘I was wondering,’ he began at last. ‘We can’t turn the clock back, it just doesn’t work. We can’t pick up where we left off, not really, and as you said, we were just kids then. We’re adults now, different people. Different things have happened to us, to shape us, strengthen us—change us. And you’re right, we don’t know each other. So why don’t we start again? Right from the very beginning, back before we ever met, as if we don’t know each other, have no history, nothing to beat each other to death with. Just two people, with common career interests, getting to know each other.’

She stared at him, because of all the things she’d expected him to come out with, that wasn’t one of them. And odd though it sounded, maybe it could work.

She felt a glimmer of excitement, a flicker of hope. She moistened her lips, took a deep breath and started.

‘OK. So—I’m Gemma. I’m a nurse, as you know, and I work in the surgery here, as you know, and I’m twenty-nine, and I’m sort of single—well—am I?’ she asked, and he turned his head and smiled a little wryly.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, his voice low and slightly gruff. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘OK,’ she said, suddenly feeling a little less confident because she hadn’t ever thought of herself as single in all this time, more as—a wife on ice? ‘So, I’m single, and I like children and animals, and daytime TV when I get a chance, and I read crime fiction and biographies, and I like swimming in the sea but I can’t surf to save my life, and I love walking on the moors. How about you?’

He gave her a funny little smile that made her heart turn over again, and said, ‘I’m Sam, I’m thirty, I’m a doctor, and I’m covering for an old childhood friend until her replacement can be found, and I’ve been working in Africa for an aid agency but I did something stupid and got myself blown up, which is why I walk with a limp and can’t feel much in my left hand and why—why I’ve got some pretty horrible scars.

‘And my mother’s not very well, but because you did your job and checked on her even though you were off duty she’s going to be fine, and I’m really grateful, and I’d like to get to know you better. And I’m single, I suppose, but there was a girl a long time ago who broke my heart, so I’m a little wary.’

That made her eyes fill and her heart twist with anguish, and she bit her lip as he went on, ‘I love swimming in the sea, and I used to be able to surf but I’d probably fall over now because of my leg, and I read thrillers and crime fiction and car magazines, and I used to ride a motorbike but I can’t any longer, but I still love walking on the moors, even though my ankle’s not too keen on it. And I have two younger sisters, both married with children, both living fairly near but not apparently near enough to be of much help to my mother, and I have a younger brother who’s off the rails a bit but basically a good kid.’

He smiled again. ‘And that’s me, really. Any questions?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really.’ Not that she could ask, anyway. Not under the terms and conditions of this new relationship. ‘How about you?’

‘Are you an only child?’

‘No, I’ve got an older brother, he’s thirty-three and he’s married with two children, and he lives in Bristol. He’s an architect.’

‘Interesting. So—did you always want to be a nurse?’

She gave a strangled little laugh, then shook her head. ‘No. I was going to be a doctor, like you, but then…’ She faltered. Should she tell him? Explain what had happened, why she’d gone? But, no, they were playing let’s pretend, and she wouldn’t have told a stranger about it, so she carried on, choosing her words carefully, ‘Then something happened, and I met some nurses, and I realised I’d rather do that. I’d met lots of doctors, because my father’s a doctor so I’ve grown up round them, but I’d never really had anything to do with nurses before, and the more I talked to them, the more I thought it was a better direction for me.’

Sam was silent, assimilating her words. There was something missing, some gap in her story—something vital. But he didn’t know…‘What was it that happened? Was it while you were travelling?’

Oh, rats. Tell him? Or not tell him? She wanted to, but at the same time she didn’t, because she was so afraid he’d feel obliged to stand by her, just as she had all those years ago, and she didn’t want that. She wanted him for himself, and she wanted him to want her for herself, not feel saddled with her out of duty or a misplaced sense of responsibility.

So she lied—well, no, because it wasn’t really a lie, but she was flexible with the truth, and it hurt. ‘No, I wasn’t travelling at the time, but my circumstances changed and I ended up living amongst nurses.’ Well, it was true, in a way. She had, and she’d been there for ages. ‘And it changed my conception of them and what they do.’

No. She was still holding something back, still not telling him all of it. But he let it go—for now. He’d get it out of her later, make her tell him everything. For now, he’d let her tell him what she wanted, and he’d try and fill in the blanks.

‘So—why practice nurse rather than hospital nurse?’

‘For the continuity, really,’ she said, relieved to be off the sticky subject of the past and onto something she could talk about with genuine enthusiasm. ‘I love the fact that I can watch an entire family grow, from inoculating the babies and giving them advice all through childhood to routine health checks on their parents, and continuing care clinics for the grandparents—like your mother, for example, who comes in regularly for her blood pressure and cholesterol, and Ron Reynolds with his angina, and then there are the children with asthma and the mums who want to give up smoking because they’ve just found out they’re pregnant, and the drop-in contraceptive clinics to keep the youngsters out of trouble and the weight-loss clinics, and the diabetic clinics, and the travel clinics—it’s just so varied. Everyone thinks it’s just inoculations and smear tests and dressings, but it’s not. It’s fascinating, and it’s all about the people. And it’s the people who make the job.’

She looked at him again. ‘Does that answer your question?’ she asked, and he gave a slight smile.

‘Yes, I think it probably does.’ For now…

‘Can I ask you something now?’

‘Sure.’

‘Why Africa?’

He looked away, his smile vanishing. ‘Why not? God knows, there’s a need.’

‘But not everybody goes. Why you?’

‘Because I was—single? Because nobody was going to be hurt if I was?’

‘Except your mother. She was terribly upset.’ And me…

He shrugged. ‘Accidents can happen to anyone.’

‘But that wasn’t an accident, Sam. It was a booby trap laid by insurgents.’

‘Whatever. I gave the people much more back than was taken from me during the time I was there, and that’s what matters. I remember one occasion when I had to contact a colleague in London and ask for advice on a procedure I’d never done before, and the only way to contact him was by mobile phone. We had satellite phones, and he was able to text me instructions. And I saved this kid’s life because of that. Without me, without the team, without people going out there and having a go in often impossible conditions, these children and their mothers and fathers would die. And it’s the simple things—like appendicitis and not having clean water and not having basic antibiotics and antimalarials that kills them so often. And I was able to make a difference.’

‘And you don’t think you can make a difference here? What about Ron Reynolds? If you hadn’t been there in the surgery when he’d come in, he might have died.’

‘No, because Hazel would have got you, and you would have taken one look at him and called an ambulance, and got Nick back from fiddling with the barbeque arrangements and he would have been fine. But there are kids out in Africa now who are dying because I’m not there.’

‘Sam, that’s nonsense, because if you’re there, then there are children dying in India or Indonesia or South America or Birmingham or even Cornwall because you aren’t there. You can’t save the world. You can only do your bit.’

He turned and searched her face, then his eyes softened in a smile that made her breath catch. ‘You know, you’re beautiful when you get worked up about something. You come alive inside, and your skin glows and your eyes are bright and—you’re just gorgeous.’

She felt her skin warm, and she couldn’t stop the slightly embarrassed little laugh that escaped from her chest. ‘Sam…’

‘I want to kiss you,’ he said softly. ‘Will you let me?’

She nodded, speechless with need and emotion, and, leaning over, he angled his head and touched his lips to hers.

Just gently, just the lightest touch, but it struck a spark to the tinder of her withered, lonely heart and brought it to life. But all too soon he was lifting his head and moving away, his eyes still locked with hers.

‘Can I see you again?’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Tonight?’ He closed his eyes. ‘Damn, no, I can’t tonight, I promised I’d go up to the Carters’ for a drink later. You could come?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think so. I think this should just be between us.’

A shadow crossed his face. ‘Yes, of course. I was forgetting. Saturday, then? Saturday night. We could—I don’t know, we could go out of town somewhere.’

‘Or I could cook for you,’ she suggested, and then wondered if that was too much, too soon. ‘Or we could just go for a walk.’

‘We could go for a walk and then you could cook for me another time.’

She smiled. ‘That’s two dates.’

‘Mmm.’ He smiled back. ‘It is. Well?’

She nodded, still smiling. ‘Yes. Let’s go for a walk on Saturday, if it’s not raining.’

‘And if it is?’

She shrugged. ‘We could go to the cinema?’

‘And sit in the back row?’

The little bubble of laughter wouldn’t stay down. They’d done that so often when they’d first started going out together. And he’d taken full advantage of the darkness…

‘Maybe. If you promise to be good.’

‘Oh, I’ll be good,’ he vowed, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest.

She sucked in a deep breath. ‘OK. We’ll do that, then. Walk or cinema, and then on Sunday I’ll cook for you.’

He pulled a face. ‘I should probably be at home on Sunday, cooking a roast for my mother. Sunday is always a roast, or it always used to be. And if I cook it, there’s a fair chance it won’t be drowned in saturated fat and there’ll be lots of fresh vegetables.’

She cocked her head on one side. ‘That sounds very civilised.’

‘Oh, I can be—when the occasion demands it, I can be very civilised. But most of the time it’s something fast, cheap and easy.’

She laughed. ‘That sounds a little suspect,’ she teased, and he chuckled.

‘Well, if the cap fits…’ He turned back to the dog and scratched his ears. ‘Shall we go back to Mum, little man?’

Digger jumped up, tail wagging, and Sam got stiffly to his feet, flexing his left leg which was obviously giving him trouble still.

‘Are you sure you’re OK for a walk on Saturday?’ she asked, and he shot her a curious look.

‘Yes—why?’

‘I just wondered. Your leg?’

‘My leg’s OK. I have to keep using it. It’s getting better all the time, and a walk will be just what it needs. And Digger will have a great time, won’t you, mate?’

They walked back to the house side by side, not quite touching but close enough for little electric currents to zing between them, and when he slipped his hand behind her back to usher her across the road she felt the warmth of it curl through her, right down to her toes.

‘Have you got everything?’ he asked as she stopped by her car, and she nodded.

‘Yes, I picked it all up on the way out.’

‘I’ll just put the dog in and move my car, then.’

She unlocked her car and got in, wondering if he’d kiss her again, but instead he opened his car door once the dog was safely inside, fired up the engine and moved out into the road so she could get out, and then he gave her a lazy, sexy wink and a wave as she moved off up the hill.

It was going to be a long time till Saturday…