Читать книгу Summer Kisses - Sarah Morgan - Страница 11

THE miracle didn’t happen.

A few of the locals reluctantly agreed to see Conner, but the majority refused, choosing to wait a week to see Logan rather than be forced to consult the island rebel.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ Flora told Evanna crossly a week after Conner had arrived on Glenmore. They were sitting on a rug on the beach, watching Kirsty dig in the sand. Finally the wind had dropped and the sun shone. ‘They tell Janet it’s urgent, and then say they’d rather wait than see Conner. I mean, just how urgent can something be if it can wait a week? Frankly, it would serve them right if a bit of them dropped off.’

‘Well, to be fair to them, Conner was a bit wild and crazy,’ Evanna said mildly, picking up Kirsty’s sunhat and putting it back on her head. ‘We just need to give them time to realise that he’s changed.’

‘Time isn’t on our side. Glenmore needs another doctor. A doctor the patients will see! Your baby is due in four weeks,’ Flora reminded her. ‘If the patients don’t stop demanding to see Logan, you won’t get a look-in.’

Evanna sighed. ‘I know. He’s shattered. He used to always get home before I put Kirsty to bed. Now I’m lucky if he’s home before I’m in bed.’ She lifted her face to the sun. ‘It’s hot today.’

‘I gather from Logan that your blood result was all right.’ Flora lifted a bottle of water out of her bag and took a sip. ‘That’s a relief all round.’

‘Yes, I was already immune to chickenpox, so that’s one less problem to contend with.’

Flora was still pondering the problem of Conner. ‘It isn’t as if he’s a useless doctor. He’s brilliant. You should have seen him with Harry Gregg.’ She leaned forward and helped Kirsty ease the sand out of the bucket. ‘There! A perfect castle.’ She smiled as Kirsty clapped her hands with delight. ‘And he’s diagnosed Mrs Ellis.’

‘Yes, she told me he’s given her thyroxine. He certainly seems to know what he’s doing.’

‘So why hasn’t word spread? Why won’t the islanders see him?’

‘Because they see the boy and not the man? I’m guessing, but I suppose they just don’t trust him.’ Evanna hesitated. ‘Apparently Finn Sullivan refused to rent him a yacht a few evenings ago.’

Flora stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes, but it’s not all black. I saw Conner kicking a football around with the kids on the beach yesterday. They think he’s so cool. And several women have made appointments to see him, but I don’t think he was too thrilled about that.’

‘He certainly wasn’t.’ Flora brushed sand from Kirsty’s face. ‘He strode up to Janet and said, “I’m not a bloody gynaecologist” or something equally unsympathetic. And Janet pointed out that as we didn’t have a female doctor, he was expected to see female problems.’

‘And what was Conner’s response to that?’

‘I don’t know because he lowered his voice but Janet went scarlet.’

Evanna laughed. ‘I don’t suppose there was much call for gynecology in the army. According to Logan, he was dealing with a lot of trauma. Anyway, it’s time we helped him settle in, which is why I’ve invited him to join us for lunch later.’

Flora’s heart bumped hard against her chest. ‘He’s coming to lunch? I thought it was just your family. Logan, Meg and a few others.’

‘Conner is family. I thought it might be a good idea to remind people of that.’

‘Oh.’ Flora concentrated on Kirsty. ‘Well, that’s great. Really nice of you, Evanna. So we should go back to the house. Start getting ready.’ She rose to her feet and picked Kirsty up. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get the sand off your feet and take you home. Who knows? Your daddy might even be there.’

Conner’s feet echoed on the cracked wooden floorboards and he glanced around him, feeling the memories swirl. The house smelled of damp, but that wasn’t surprising because it had been years since the light and air had been allowed to pour unrestricted through its doors and windows.

He’d always hated this house and nothing had changed. It was as if the walls had absorbed some of the anger and hatred that had been played out in these rooms.

He tried to feel something positive, but there was nothing that wasn’t dark and murky, and he gave a soft curse and strode out of the front door and back into the sunshine, drawing the clear air deep into his lungs.

Just walking into the house had made him feel contaminated.

He shouldn’t have come.

He should have just paid someone to sell the damn place.

Beneath him the sea crashed onto the rocks and he sucked in a breath, drinking in the wildness of it—the savage beauty. Everything about this part of Glenmore was angry. The coast, the sea, the wind, the house …

Him?

Conner stood for a moment, battling with uncomfortable thoughts until some inner sense warned him that he wasn’t alone.

He turned swiftly and saw her.

Flora was standing only metres away from him, the wind lifting her brown curls and blowing them around her face, her expression uncertain.

‘Sorry.’ Her voice faltered and it was obvious that she couldn’t decide whether to stay or retreat. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

He wished she hadn’t, because he was in no mood for company and his desperate need for isolation fuelled his temper. ‘Then why did you?’

Flora flinched at his directness, but she didn’t retreat. ‘You were supposed to be at Logan and Evanna’s for lunch. We assumed you’d forgotten.’

‘I needed some space.’

‘Oh.’ She took a breath. ‘It’s just that … you didn’t ring or anything.’

‘No.’

‘I was worried.’

‘Why?’ Since when had anyone worried about him?

‘This business with the islanders,’ she shrugged, embarrassed and awkward. ‘It’s horrible. I thought by now they would have accepted you.’

‘It’s not important.’

‘Of course it’s important! Evanna told me that Finn wouldn’t rent you a boat—’

When he didn’t answer, she gazed at him in exasperation. ‘Don’t you care?’

He could feel the blood throbbing in his veins. ‘What are you doing here, Flora?’

‘When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d bring lunch to you.’

It was then that he noticed the basket by her feet. He could see a bowl of strawberries, thick whipped cream and another bowl, this one piled high with bronzed chicken legs. And white and red checked napkins.

A traditional picnic.

It was all so civilised and in such direct contrast to this place and everything he was feeling that he felt his tension levels soar.

He wasn’t feeling civilised. He wasn’t feeling civilised at all.

In fact, he was in an extremely dangerous mood.

‘It’s pretty here,’ she ventured hesitantly, glancing over to the rocks and the tiny beach. ‘This is the only house on the island that has its own private beach.’

‘Flora, if you have any sense, you’ll leave right now.’

Her eyes flew to his. Widened. ‘I’ve made you angry.’

There was something different about her but he couldn’t work out what it was. ‘I was angry before you arrived. I know you mean well, but I don’t wish to take a trip down memory lane and I especially don’t want to do it holding anyone’s hand,’ he said harshly. ‘How did you know where to find me?’

‘I went to your barn first and you weren’t there.’ She captured a strand of hair as it danced in the breeze. ‘And I saw Mrs North picking blackberries in the lane outside and she said she’d seen you coming in this direction.’

Conner’s mood darkened still further. ‘Now I know why they don’t bother with CCTV on Glenmore. They have locals stationed on every street corner.’

‘I shouldn’t have come. I really am sorry.’ Flushed and flustered, Flora lifted the basket and stepped forward. She pushed the basket into his hands, her smile brief and shy. ‘Take it. Evanna is an amazing cook. Her chicken is delicious and the strawberries are freshly picked from the Roberts’ farm. If you’re not hungry now, you can eat it later.’ Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and walked quickly away from him, her long flowery skirt swirling around her body, outlining the soft curve of her hips.

He’d offended her. Or had he frightened her?

Conner watched her for a moment and then looked down at the basket and swore long and fluently. The day was not turning out as he’d planned. He lifted his gaze from the strawberries and stared after her retreating figure with a mixture of exasperation and anger.

He didn’t care that he’d offended her.

He really didn’t care.

It wasn’t as if he’d invited her here. He hadn’t asked her to follow him.

Caught in an internal battle, he opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind and closed it again, then growled with frustration and called out to her. ‘Do you like strawberries?’

She stopped and turned—slowly. ‘Yes. I love them.’

But she didn’t move and even from this distance Conner sensed her wariness and remembered what Logan had said about her being shy.

‘Good. Because there’s a large bowlful in this basket and I hate them.’ He dumped the basket on the ground and looked at her expectantly, but she still didn’t move.

‘Just eat the chicken, then.’

Realising that she wasn’t going to walk to him, he strolled towards her and suddenly saw what was different about her. ‘You’re not wearing your glasses.’

She lifted a hand to her cheek and shrugged self-consciously. ‘Contact lenses. I don’t usually wear them at work. I’m not a morning person and I’m never awake enough to risk putting my fingers into my eyes.’ She looked over his shoulder at the basket, which now lay abandoned on the soft grass. ‘I can take the strawberries with me, if they offend you that much.’

‘Or you can sit down and eat them here.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think you were looking for company.’

‘If the strawberries aren’t eaten, I’ll hurt Evanna’s feelings.’

A smile touched her mouth. ‘I thought you didn’t care about other people’s feelings, Conner MacNeil.’

‘I don’t, but if I upset her, Logan will give me a black eye. And then the locals will think I’ve seduced someone’s wife or girlfriend. And I’m already in enough trouble.’

She laughed, as he’d intended. ‘You told me that you thrive on trouble.’

‘That’s just habit. I’ve never known anything else.’

Her laughter faded and she stared up into his face. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. It’s personal for you. Stressful. And you don’t want to talk about it, do you?’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘Let’s just say that if I talk, you wouldn’t like the language I’d choose to use.’

‘Use whatever language you please. I’m not as shockable as you seem to think I am.’

‘It would be all too easy to shock you, Flora.’ He thought of what his life had been and then he looked down at her gentle eyes and her soft mouth and wondered why he’d stopped her walking away. ‘I’m not the type of man who eats strawberries with girls in flowered skirts.’

‘You don’t like my skirt?’

‘You look …’ He gave a faint smile as he searched for the word that best described her. ‘Wholesome. Like an advert for that whipped cream in the basket.’

‘It’s Evanna’s whipped cream. And I don’t see what my skirt has to do with anything. Do you always push people away?’

‘I don’t have to. They usually run all by themselves.’

‘Well, I can’t run in these shoes.’

‘Is that right? In that case, you can sit down and help me eat this damn picnic.’

‘Where?’ Flora glanced towards the house and he made an impatient sound.

‘No way.’ He wasn’t going back in there. Instead, he took her hand, scooped up the basket and then led her down the path to the tiny cove at the bottom. The path was steep and stony but she didn’t falter, confident and sure-footed despite her comment about her shoes.

She was a local girl, he remembered. She’d spent her childhood playing on these cliffs and exploring Glenmore’s rocky shores.

As they reached the sand, she slipped off her shoes and stooped to pick them up. ‘It’s pretty here. Really sheltered.’

‘Haven’t you been here before?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Honestly?’ She hesitated. ‘This beach is part of your property and we were too afraid of your father. Even Kyla.’

Conner gave a bitter laugh. ‘Lovely man, my father.’ He sat down on the sand and then glanced at her with a frown. ‘Did you bring something to sit on?’

She smiled and sat down on the sand next to him. ‘This is perfect.’ She reached into the basket and then glanced at him, her eyes twinkling. ‘Napkin?’

‘Of course,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’d hate to drop anything on my tuxedo.’

She laughed and passed him the bowl of chicken instead. ‘Try this. I guarantee it will taste better than anything you’ve ever eaten before, tuxedo or no tuxedo. I bumped into Diane Gregg in the supermarket this morning. She said Harry is feeling much better.’

‘Yes. I saw him in surgery yesterday. One of the advantages of being treated like a leper is that I have plenty of time for the patients that do want to see me.’ He bit into the chicken and flavours exploded on his palate. ‘You’re right—this is good.’

‘I have a boat, if you want to sail.’

Conner lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you making a pass at me?’

The colour poured into her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’

‘But you’re offering to lend me your boat?’

‘Yes.’ She delved into the basket and pulled out some crusty bread. ‘Or we could sail together. You can sail it singlehanded but it’s more fun with two.’

‘I didn’t know you sailed.’

‘I suspect there’s quite a lot about me that you don’t know,’ she said calmly, and Conner gave a surprised laugh.

‘And what do you think the locals will say when they see you consorting with Bad Conner?’

Flora broke the bread in two and handed him half. ‘I suppose it might be sensible to avoid getting into trouble, just in case the lifeboat crew refuse to help.’

‘You’d be all right. They’d pick you up and leave me in the water.’

‘No problems, then. Lemonade?’

Conner winced. ‘Are you serious? What is this—nursery food?’

‘It’s home-made. Evanna makes it.’ She poured him a glass and he heard a dull clunk as ice cubes thudded into the glass. ‘It’s very refreshing.’

He took the glass and stared at it dubiously. ‘If you say so.’

‘You’d probably prefer beer.’

‘I don’t drink.’ He felt her eyes on his face and when she spoke her voice was soft.

‘Because of your father.’ Her quiet statement required no response and so he didn’t give one.

They ate in silence and he found himself glancing at her occasionally and noticing things about the way she looked. Like the fact that she had tiny freckles on her nose and that her eyes were incredibly pretty.

‘You should ditch the glasses,’ he said softly, and she blinked awkwardly.

‘Oh …’ She concentrated on the chicken and suddenly he was reminded of a baby kitten he’d found abandoned when he’d been a child. It had been so soft and vulnerable that he he’d been afraid to touch it in case he harmed it. So he’d placed an anonymous call to the vet’s surgery and had then hidden behind a tree, watching until they’d picked it up.

Flora had that same air of vulnerability.

They finished the picnic in silence and she packed everything away tidily in the basket. ‘There’s a good wind. I always find there’s nothing better than sailing to clear the mind and put everything into perspective.’

‘Flora—’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t want to sail, because I know you tried to hire a boat from Finn at the sailing school. I’m offering you my boat. With or without myself as crew.’

He stared out to sea. ‘I was going to clear the house out this afternoon.’

‘There’s no worse job in the world,’ she said softly. ‘After Dad died, it took me six months to even go into the house. I just couldn’t face all those memories. And mine were happy ones. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about this?’

‘I wouldn’t know what to say. I’ve been away for twelve years. But it seems even that isn’t long enough.’ Conner took a mouthful of his drink and choked. ‘That is truly disgusting.’

Flora laughed. ‘Some people prefer it with sugar.’

‘The only way I’d drink it is topped up with gin. And given that I don’t touch alcohol, there’s no chance of that.’ Pulling a face, he emptied his glass onto the sand. ‘Where’s your boat moored?’

‘South Quay.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘In full public view.’

‘Yes.’ She scrambled to her feet and brushed the sand from her skirt. ‘We need to go via my house so that I can change, but that will only take a minute.’

‘You seriously want to sail? I thought you hated being the focus of people’s attention.’

‘I won’t be the focus,’ she muttered, carefully stacking everything back into the basket. ‘You will.’

She was being kind, he realised. Trying to show solidarity in front of the locals.

He probably ought to refuse but just as he opened his mouth to do just that, the wind gusted and he glanced at the waves breaking on the beach. ‘It’s a perfect afternoon for a sail.’

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She walked towards the path. ‘Are you coming, Dr MacNeil? Or would you rather spend the afternoon being moody?’

She’d never had so much fun. The wind was gusting at five knots and Conner was a born sailor, with a natural feel for the wind and the sea and blessed with nerves of steel. And although they came close several times, he didn’t land them in the water.

As the water sprayed over the bows, Flora laughed in delight. ‘Who taught you to sail?’

‘Taught myself. Sank two boats in the process. Probably why Finn won’t rent me a boat. I always loved being on the water. The sea was the place where everything came together.’ He tightened the mainsheet as he turned the boat into the wind. ‘Ready about,’ he called. Flora released the jib sheet and they both ducked under the boom as the boat came swiftly around. The wind caught the sails and the boat accelerated smoothly away, the sea sparkling in the summer sunshine.

It was hours before they finally turned the boat back towards the jetty and Flora felt nothing but regret. ‘Do you ever feel like just sailing away and never looking back?’

‘All the time.’ He adjusted the sail. ‘What about you?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She gazed dreamily up at the sky, loving the feel of the wind and the spray on her face. ‘I love being on the boat. It’s just so easy and comfortable. No people. No problems.’

‘You are full of surprises, Flora Harris.’ Conner laughed. ‘I never imagined you were a sailor.’

‘I bought her with the money Dad left me when he died. He was the one who taught me to sail. I was hopeless at team sports at school because I was too shy. No one ever picked me. I think Dad realised that sailing would suit me. I love the freedom of the boat. And the fact that you’re away from people.’ She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her skin. ‘I’m always tense around people.’

‘You’re still incredibly shy, aren’t you?’

She opened her eyes. ‘Yes. But I’ve learned to act. That’s what you do as an adult, isn’t it? You act your way through situations that would have paralysed you as a child.’

‘Was it that bad?’

‘Yes.’ Her simple, honest response touched him.

‘I didn’t realise. I just thought you were studious.’

Flora stared at the quay, measuring the distance. ‘If I was absorbed in a book then no one bothered with me, and I preferred it that way. I liked being inconspicuous.’

‘So why did you come back to Glenmore? Logan said you were working in Edinburgh before this. I would have thought it was easier to be inconspicuous in a city.’

‘It’s also very lonely and I missed the scenery and the sailing. Coming back here seemed like the right thing to do.’

‘And was it?’

She glanced at him. ‘I don’t know. Even though I know they mean well, I can’t get used to the fact that everyone knows what everyone is doing.’

They approached the jetty and she released the jib sheet and the sail flapped in the wind. Conner turned the boat head to wind and brought her skilfully into the quay.

‘She’s pretty.’ He ran a hand over the mast and Flora felt her heart kick against her chest.

She wished she were the boat.

He leapt over the foredeck onto the quay and secured the boat to the jetty while Flora de-rigged the boat, wishing they could have stayed out on the water. Now that they were on dry land she was suddenly aware that she was with Conner MacNeil and that all the locals were watching them.

As usual, Conner was totally indifferent. ‘I had no idea your father encouraged you to indulge in such dangerous pastimes. My impression was that he kept you under lock and key. He was strict.’

‘Not strict, exactly. Protective.’ Flora stepped off the boat and onto the quay. Hot after the exertion, she removed her hat and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. ‘My mother died when I was very young and I think he was terrified that something would happen to me, too. He never relaxed if I was out.’

‘I don’t remember you ever going out. All my memories of you have books in them.’

Flora laughed. ‘That was partly my fault. I was painfully shy and books stopped me having to talk to people.’

‘So why aren’t you shy with me, Flora?’

Her eyes flew to his, startled. It was true, she realised. She’d had such fun she hadn’t once felt shy with him. Not once. ‘I’m never shy when I’m sailing.’

But she knew that it had nothing to do with the sailing and everything to do with the man.

She felt comfortable with Conner.

Unsettled by that thought, she looked across the quay at the throngs of tourists who were milling around on their way to and from the beach. ‘Can I treat you to a hot fudge sundae? Meg’s café is calorie heaven.’

‘I don’t think so.’ He checked that the boat was securely tied. ‘I just upset the balance of Glenmore. I’m like you. Better with the boat than people. I’ve never been any good at platitudes and all the other false things people say to each other.’

It was so close to the way she felt that for a moment she stood still. Who would have thought that she and Conner had so many similarities? ‘But you came back.’

He gave a careless shrug. ‘It was time.’

But it wouldn’t be for long, she knew that.

Suddenly she just wanted to drag him straight back on the boat and sail back out to sea. On the water she’d had glimpses of the person behind the bad boy. He’d been relaxed. Good-humoured. Now they were back on dry land his ice-blue eyes were wary and cynical, as though he was braced for criticism.

A commotion on the far side of the quay caught her eye and she squinted across the water. ‘I wonder why the ferry hasn’t left yet.’ Flora glanced at her watch. ‘It’s five past four. Jim always leaves at four o’clock sharp. He’s never late.’

‘Obviously he is today.’

‘What are they all staring at?’ An uneasy feeling washed over her. ‘Something is happening on the quay. Conner, I think someone must have fallen into the water.’

A woman started screaming hysterically and Flora paled as she recognised her.

‘That’s Jayne Parsons, from the dental surgery. Something must have happened to Lily. It must be little Lily in the water.’ She started to run, dodging groups of gaping tourists as she flew towards the other side of the quay.

And suddenly she could see why people were staring.

Blood pooled on the surface of the water and Flora felt a wave of nausea engulf her as she realised just how serious the situation was.

Her hand shaking, she delved in her pocket for her mobile phone and quickly rang the coastguard and the air ambulance. Then she caught Jayne by the shoulders before she could throw herself into the water after her child. ‘No! Wait, Jayne. What happened? Is it Lily?’

‘She fell. One minute she was eating her ice cream and the next … Oh, God, she fell.’ Jayne’s breath was coming in hysterical gasps and out of the corner of her eye Flora saw movement, heard a splash and turned to see Conner already in the water.

A local who had seen the whole incident started directing him. ‘She went in about here. Between the quay and the boat. I guess the propeller …’ His voice tailed off as he glanced towards Jayne and the woman’s eyes widened in horror as she focused on the surface of the water and saw what Flora had already seen.

The blood.

Jayne started to scream and the sound had a thin, inhuman quality that cut through the summer air and brought horrified silence to the normally bustling quay. Then she tried to launch herself into the water again and Flora winced as Jayne’s flying fist caught her on the side of her head. She was too slight to hold the woman, her head throbbed and she was just about to resign herself to the fact that Jayne was going to jump when two burly local fishermen came to her aid.

They drew a sobbing, struggling Jayne away from the edge of the quay and Flora gave them a grateful nod. Whatever happened next, Jayne being in the water would only make things worse.

Oblivious to the audience or the building tension, Conner vanished under the water. Time and time again he dived, while strangers and locals stood huddled in groups, watching the drama unfold.

Offering what comfort she could, Flora took Jayne’s hand. ‘Conner will find her,’ she said firmly, praying desperately that she was right. ‘Conner will find her.’ If she said it often enough, perhaps it would happen.

‘Conner?’ Shivering violently and still restrained by the fishermen, Jayne looked at Flora blankly, as if she hadn’t realised until this point who was trying to rescue her daughter. ‘Conner MacNeil?’

‘He’s in the water now,’ Flora said gently, wondering whether Jayne was going into shock. Her eyes were glazed and her face white. ‘He’s looking for her, Jayne.’

‘Conner? When has he ever put his life on the line for anyone? He won’t help her. He won’t help my baby.’ Her eyes suddenly wild with terror, Jayne developed superhuman strength, wrenched herself from the hold of the two men and hurled herself towards the edge of the quay once again.

The two men quickly grabbed her and she wriggled and pulled, struggling to free herself. ‘Get the coastguard, anyone—Oh, God, no, no.’ She collapsed, sobbing and Flora slid her arms round her, this time keeping her body between Jayne and the quay.

‘Jayne, you’re no help to Lily if you fall in, too. Leave it to Conner. You have to trust Conner.’

‘Who in their right mind would trust Conner MacNeil?’

‘I would,’ Flora said simply, and realised that it was true. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

‘Then you’re obviously infatuated with him,’ Jayne shrieked, ‘like every other woman who comes close to him.’ But she sagged against Flora, her energy depleted by the extravagant surge of emotion.

Infatuated?

Dismissing the accusation swiftly, Flora stared at the surface of the water but there was no movement and a couple of tourists standing next to her started to murmur dire predictions. She turned and glared at them just as there was a sound from the water and Conner surfaced, the limp, lifeless body of the child in his arms. He sucked in air and then hauled himself onto the concrete steps with one hand, his other arm holding the child protectively against his chest.

Lily lay still, her soaked dress darkened by blood, her hair streaked with it.

Flora felt panic, jagged and dangerous. Oh no, please no.

There were no signs of life. None.

Next to her Jayne started to moan like a creature tormented and then the sound stopped as she slid to the concrete in a faint.

‘Leave her,’ Conner ordered, climbing the steps out of the water, the body of the child still in his arms. Lily’s head hung backwards and her skin was a dull grey colour. ‘Someone else can look after her and at the moment she’s better off out of it. Get me a towel, Flora. With the blood and the water, I can’t see what we’re dealing with here.’

A towel?

Feeling sick and shaky, Flora scanned the crowd and focused on two tourists who were loaded down with beach items. ‘Give me your towel.’ Without waiting for their permission, she yanked the towel out of the bag, spilling buckets and spades over the quay. Then she was on her knees beside Conner.

Lily lay pale and lifeless, her tiny body still, like a puppet that had been dropped. Blood spurted like a fountain from a wound on her leg.

‘It’s an artery.’ With a soft curse Conner pressed down hard. ‘I’m guessing she gashed it on the propeller as she fell. She’s lucky the engine wasn’t on.’ He increased the pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding. ‘She’s stopped breathing.’

Flora almost stopped breathing, too. Panic pressed in on her and without Connor’s abrupt commands she would have shrivelled up and sobbed, just as Jayne had. Perhaps he realised that she was on the verge of falling apart because he lifted his head and glared at her, his blue eyes fierce with determination.

‘Press here! I need to start CPR. Flora, move!’

She stared at him for a moment, so stunned by the enormity of what was happening she couldn’t respond.

‘Pull yourself together!’ His tone was sharp. ‘If we’re to stand any chance here, I need some help, and you’re the only person who knows what they’re doing. Everyone else is just gawping.’

Flora felt suddenly dizzy. She’d never seen so much blood in her life. She’d never worked in A and E and all the first-aid courses she’d attended had been theoretical. She didn’t know what she was doing.

And then she realised that he did. Conner knew exactly what he was doing and she knelt down beside him.

‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Press here. Like that. That’s it—good.’ He put her hands on the wound, showed her just how hard he wanted her to press, and then shifted slightly so that he could focus on the child’s breathing. With one hand on her forehead and the other under her chin, he gently tilted Lily’s head back and covered her mouth with his, creating a seal. He breathed gently, watching as the child’s chest rose.

Then he lifted his mouth and watched as Lily’s chest fell as the air came out. ‘Flora, get a tourniquet on that leg. She’s losing blood by the bucketload.’

‘A tourniquet?’ Flora turned to the nearest tourist. ‘Get me a bandage or a tie, something—anything—I can wind around her leg.’

The man simply stared at her, but his wife moved swiftly, jerking the tie from the neck of a businessman who had been waiting to take the ferry.

Flora didn’t dare release the pressure on Lily’s leg. ‘If I let go to tie it, she’s going to bleed.’ Feeling horribly ignorant, she sent Conner a helpless glance. ‘I haven’t done this before. Do I put it directly over the wound?’

‘Above the wound. You need a stick or something to twist it tight. Tie it and leave a gap and tie it again.’

Flora swiftly did as he instructed. The towel was soaked in blood and her fingers were slippery with it and shaking.

‘The bleeding’s not stopping Conner,’ she muttered, and he glanced across at her, his expression hard.

‘You need to tighten it. More pressure. Get a stick.’

She glanced at the uneven surface of the quay. ‘There’s no stick!’

‘Then use something else!’ He glared at the group of tourists standing nearest to them. ‘Find a stick of some sort! A kid’s spade, a cricket stump—anything we can use.’

‘The blood is everywhere.’ Flora tried to twist the tie tighter but the bleeding was relentless and she felt a sob build in her throat. It just seemed hopeless. Completely hopeless. ‘She’s four years old, Conner.’ She was ready to give up but Conner placed the heel of his hand over the child’s sternum.

‘She’s hypovolaemic. She needs fluid and she needs it fast.’ He pushed down. ‘Where the hell is the air ambulance?’

Someone thrust a stick into Flora’s hand and she looked at it with relief. Perhaps now she could stop the bleeding. ‘Do I push it under the tie and twist?’

‘On top.’ Conner stopped chest compressions and bent to give another rescue breath. ‘Between the two knots. Twist. Make a note of the time—we can’t leave it on for more than ten minutes. But if we’re not out of here in ten minutes, it will be too late anyway.’

He covered Lily’s mouth with his again and Flora followed his instructions, placing the stick between the first and second knots and twisting until it tightened.

‘The air ambulance has just landed on the beach,’ Jim, the ferryman, was by her shoulder, his voice surprisingly steady. ‘What can I do, Flora?’

‘I don’t know. Keep the crowd away, I suppose. How’s Jayne?’

‘Out cold. Might be the best thing. Someone’s looking after her—a nurse from the mainland on a day trip.’

Conner returned to chest compressions. ‘Jim—get over to the paramedics. I want oxygen and plasma expander. And get them to radio the hospital and warn them. She’s going to need whole blood or packed cells when she arrives. I want her in the air in the next few minutes. We don’t have time to play around here.’

‘Will do.’ Without argument, Jim disappeared to do as Conner had instructed and Flora lifted the edge of the towel.

‘The bleeding’s stopped.’ She felt weak with relief and Conner nodded.

‘Good. We’ll release it and check it in about ten minutes. If the bleeding doesn’t start again we can leave it loose, but don’t take it off—we might need it again.’ He bent his head to give Lily another life-saving breath and Flora saw the paramedics sprinting along the quay towards them.

‘They’re here, Conner.’

Conner wasn’t listening. His attention was focused on the child. ‘Come on, baby girl,’ he murmured softly, ‘breathe for me.’ His eyes were on her chest and Flora watched him, wondering. Had he seen something? Had he felt a change in her condition?

‘Do you think she—?’

And at that moment Lily gave a choking cough and vomited weakly.

‘Oh, thank God,’ Flora breathed, and Conner turned the child’s head gently and cleared her airway.

‘There’s a good girl. You’re going to be all right now, sweetheart.’

He spoke so softly that Flora doubted that anyone else had heard his words of comfort and she felt a lump block her throat as she watched him with the child.

So he was capable of kindness, then. It was there, deep inside him, just as she’d always suspected.

But then he lifted his head and his eyes were hard as ever. ‘Get some blankets, dry towels, coats—something to warm her up,’ he ordered, and then looked at the paramedics. ‘Give her some oxygen. I want to get a line in and give her a bolus of fluid and then we’re out of here.’

‘How much fluid do you want?’

Conner wiped his forearm across his brow, but he kept one hand on the child’s arm. Offering reassurance. ‘What’s her weight? How old is she? We can estimate—’

‘I know her weight exactly,’ Flora said. ‘I saw her in clinic last week. She’s 16 kilograms. Do you want a calculator so that you can work out the fluid?’

‘Start with 160 mils of colloid and then I’ll reassess. I don’t want to hang around here.’ Conner released Lily’s hand and started looking for a vein, while one of the paramedics sorted out the fluid and the other gave Lily some oxygen.

The child was breathing steadily now, her chest rising and falling as Conner worked. Occasionally her eyes fluttered open and then drifted closed again.

‘She’s got no veins,’ Conner muttered, carefully examining Lily’s arms. ‘Get me an intraosseous needle. I’m not wasting time looking for non-existent veins. We need to get her to hospital. We’ve messed around here long enough.’

The paramedic dropped to his knees beside Conner, all the necessary equipment to hand. ‘You want an intraosseous needle?’

‘Actually, just give me a blue cannula. She might just have a vein I can use here.’ Conner stroked the skin on the child’s arm, focused. ‘One go—if it fails, we’ll get her in the air and I’ll insert an intraosseous needle on the way.’

Flora leaned forward and closed her fingers around the child’s arm, squeezing gently and murmuring words of reassurance. Lily was drifting in and out of consciousness and didn’t seem aware of what was going on.

There was a commotion next to them but Conner didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t look up or hesitate. Instead, he applied himself to the task with total concentration, slid the needle into the vein and then gave a grunt of satisfaction. ‘I’m in—good. That makes things easier. Let’s flush it and tape it—I don’t want to lose this line.’

The paramedic leaned towards him with tape but just at that moment Jayne launched herself at Conner and tried to drag him away. ‘What are you doing to my baby?’ Her face was as white as swan’s feathers, her eyes glazed with despair. ‘Let me get to her—I need to hold her—Get him away from her.’

‘Jayne, not now.’ Flora quickly slid an arm round her shoulders and pulled her out of the way so that the paramedic and Conner could finish what they’d started.

‘But she’s dead,’ Jayne moaned, and Flora shook her head.

‘She’s not dead, Jayne,’ she said firmly. ‘She’s breathing.’

‘Not dead?’ Relief diluted the pain in Jayne’s eyes but then panic rose again as she saw Conner bending over her child. ‘What’s he doing to her? Oh, God, there’s blood everywhere.’

‘Lily cut herself very badly,’ Flora began, but Jayne began to scream.

‘Get him away from her! Get him away from my baby! I don’t trust him!’

‘You should trust him. He’s the reason the bairn’s breathing now.’ It was Jim who spoke, his weatherbeaten face finally showing signs of strain. Gently but firmly he drew Jayne away from Flora. ‘Flora, you help Dr MacNeil. Jayne, you’re staying with me. And you’d better remember that Conner MacNeil is the reason Lily is alive right now. I know you’re upset, and rightly so, but you need to get a hold. The man is working miracles.’

Conner straightened, conferred with the paramedics and together he and the crew transferred Lily’s tiny form onto the stretcher. Then he wiped his blood-streaked hands down his soaked shorts. His handsome face was still damp with sea water and the expression in his ice-blue eyes cold and detached as he finally looked at Jayne. ‘We’re taking her to hospital.’

Jayne crumpled. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ Tears poured down her cheeks as she looked from him to Lily’s still form. ‘Can I come with you? Please?’

Conner took a towel that a tourist tentatively offered him. ‘That depends on whether you’re likely to assault me during the flight.’ He wiped his hands properly, watching as Jayne breathed in and out and lifted a hand to her chest.

‘I—I really am sorry.’

‘No, you need to understand.’ Conner handed the towel back, his voice brutally harsh. ‘This isn’t over. If she arrests during the flight, I’ll be resuscitating her. Can you cope with that? Because if you can’t, you’re staying on the ground.’

Jayne flinched but for some reason his lack of sympathy seemed to help her pull herself together and find some dignity. ‘I understand. Of course. And that’s fine. I’m just grateful that you …’ She swallowed and nodded. ‘Do everything,’ she whispered. ‘Everything. I just—I just want to be near her. And with her when we get there. I—Thank you. Thank you so much. Without you …’ Her eyes met Conner’s for a moment and he turned his attention back to Lily.

‘We’re wasting time. Let’s move.’

In a matter of moments the helicopter was in the air and Flora watched as it swooped away from Glenmore towards the mainland.

Suddenly she realised how much her hands were shaking.

She stared down at herself. Her shorts were streaked with blood and Lily’s blood still pooled on the grey concrete of the quay. ‘Someone get a bucket and slosh some water over this,’ she muttered to Jim, and he breathed a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

‘I haven’t seen anything like that in all my time on Glenmore.’

‘No. I suppose it was because the quay was so crowded. She must have been knocked off the edge and into the water.’

‘I didn’t mean that.’ Jim stared into the sky, watching as the helicopter shrank to a tiny dot in the distance. ‘I meant Conner MacNeil. He was in the water like an arrow while the rest of us were still working out what had happened. And he just got on with it, didn’t he?’

‘Yes.’ Flora cleared her throat. ‘He did.’

‘Logan says he was in the army.’ Jim pushed his hat back from his forehead and scratched. ‘I reckon if I was fighting in some godforsaken country, I’d feel better knowing he was around to pick up the pieces.’

‘Yes. He was amazing.’

‘He’s not cuddly, of course.’ Jim held up five fingers to a tourist who tentatively asked whether or not the ferry would be running. ‘Five minutes. But in a crisis which do you prefer? Cuddly or competent?’

Flora swallowed, knowing that Jim was right. Conner’s ice-cold assessment of the situation had been a huge part of the reason Lily was still alive. He hadn’t allowed emotion to cloud his judgement, whereas she …

Suddenly Flora felt depression wash over her. The whole situation had been awful and she was experienced enough to know that, despite Conner’s heroic efforts, Lily wasn’t out of danger. ‘I’d better go, Jim. I need to clean up.’

‘And I need to get this ferry to the mainland.’ Jim gave a wry smile and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s the first time the Glenmore ferry has been late since the service started. Nice job, Flora. Well done.’

But Flora knew that her part in the rescue had been minimal.

It had been Conner. All of it. He’d been the one to dive into the water. He’d pulled Lily out. And when she’d been frozen with panic at the sight of Lily’s lifeless form covered in all that blood, he’d worked with ruthless efficiency, showing no emotion but getting the job done. Nothing had distracted him. Not even Lily’s mother. He’d had a task to do and he’d done it.