‘We don’t need stuff going on,’ he told Hoppy, and Hoppy looked at him as if he didn’t believe him.
‘Well, I am doing stuff,’ he told him. ‘The trust’s doing good and it needs competent administration.’
Yeah? Hoppy didn’t say it but he had his head cocked to one side, enquiringly. Hugh could almost hear the response. So what, mate? Two hours a day? Is that all you can give? You know Gina’s not just down there to fill in time. She wants to do good.
Do good. The unspoken words sounded hollow.
‘So remember where trying to do good gets us,’ he told Hoppy, his voice almost savage. ‘If we crack now, I’ll be stuck as Sandpiper’s doctor for ever.’
And once again, a silent question seemed to come from the little dog. Would that be so bad? You still have current registration. What’s stopping you?
‘It’s not why we came here. Dammit, she is blackmailing me.’ He was staring at Hoppy, who was staring straight back, and when he said that the little dog seemed to flinch.
Possibly because of the anger in his voice. Anger at Gina?
At a woman who’d held him. At a woman who’d offered her body with love and with laughter.
Not with love, he told himself.
Kindness? Even pity?
Who wanted kindness and pity? If that was what it had been, he could stay right where he was, stopping her intruding into his world.
But it surely hadn’t felt like kindness or pity. It had felt like...joy.
Was that what was holding him back? The thought of a woman who sensed what he needed, who somehow seemed to see inside his head?
Was it fear that was holding him back now? Fear of commitment to the islanders?
Fear of the way he was reacting to a woman who seemed different from anyone he’d ever met before?
‘So does that make me a coward?’ he demanded of Hoppy, and Hoppy looked blankly back at him. No judgement?
All his judgement was within.
Gina’s clinic would be operating until twelve. He could hardly help her. He was due to be online in half an hour. Trust business.
‘That’s a cop-out,’ he said, out loud again. He glanced across towards Babs’s cottage. Thinking.
He hadn’t come to Sandpiper to be a doctor. He didn’t want to be one.
But he was one. When Babs had needed him, he’d been there for her. When the explosion had happened, he’d been called.
How big was his veggie garden? How big did it need to be?
She’d done it. She’d got under his skin. She’d guilted him...
Hoppy was still looking at him. Bemused?
Was Gina guilting him?
She’d done no such thing. She’d just said it as it was.
‘How much fun are you having?’
The question had been thrown at him with a teasing smile. Fun. She thought it would be fun to treat the islanders’ minor complaints.
But suddenly he was thinking of his early years of medicine, of a dumb incident during his stint in family practice. Sunday night, late. He’d been on call all weekend and had finally headed home to bed when the phone had rung.
‘Me wife’s got an earache, Doc,’ the voice on the other end of the phone had said. ‘She’ll never sleep.’
‘Okay,’ he’d said, thinking longingly of his own sleep. ‘Do you have a car? I’ll meet you at the clinic in fifteen minutes.’
He’d dressed and driven back to the clinic. The guy had arrived ten minutes later, climbing out of his car to greet him. ‘Hiya, Doc.’
‘Where’s your wife?’ Hugh had asked, and the guy had looked at him in astonishment.
‘You never told me to bring my wife.’
He’d waited for another half an hour for the guy to go home and fetch his wife. He’d done what had to be done and then gone home to bed, gritting his teeth in frustration. But as he’d drifted towards sleep, he’d found himself laughing, and the next day the incident had been shared with the entire clinic staff. Their shared laughter and good-natured teasing—they’d even added a line to their answering machine recording: Patients are expected to arrive in person unless otherwise stated—stayed with him still.
‘How much fun are you having?’
He stared down at Hoppy, who looked blandly back at him. No help there.
His decision.
It had been his decision to move here, his longing. His head had been in some nightmare place and he couldn’t deal with more inputs. He’d walked out of that last counselling session and decided he needed to get away, from everyone, from everything. He’d run.
How long could he keep running?
‘How much fun are you having?’
He headed indoors, back to his desk. To what had been almost his only contact with the world for the last three years. He logged on, then hovered, his fingers poised to press the keys to admit himself to his trust administrators.
Hoppy had followed him in, but instead of settling beneath his desk he stayed sitting, watching, as if there were questions still to be answered.
Gina would be in the clinic by now. Treating odds and sods. People with earache. People who might even need the additional expertise of a doctor.
The Trust administrators would be waiting.
Fun.
He thought of the competent men and women he’d employed to run the Trust, people who, over the last couple of years, had been trained to know exactly the direction he wanted the Trust to take.
He could go help Gina.
‘But I wouldn’t be doing it for fun,’ he told Hoppy. ‘I’ll be doing it because it’s selfish not to.’
Yeah, right. Hoppy’s bland gaze said it all, but the decision had been made.
He sent a brief message to the administrators, then rang Gina.
‘Hugh?’ Her voice sounded wary.
‘You’re at the clinic?’
‘I’ve already seen six patients.’ Her voice held a note of pride.
‘Do you need me?’
The question hung. A cautious silence. Then...
‘Of course I do,’ she said seriously, quietly. ‘Two of the people I’ve seen need to go on to Gannet to see a doctor. But if you came...’
‘I’ll come.’
Another silence.
Then, as if she were forced to be truthful even though she worried about the consequences, she said: ‘Hugh, if you come... I do understand what you’re facing. If...when Babs dies, I’ll leave the island, but you could end up stuck with this for ever.’
‘I’ve thought of that.’
‘It’s a big ask.’
‘That didn’t stop you asking.’
‘Suggesting,’ she said, and he heard the trace of a smile. ‘I only suggested.’
‘Like you suggested I jump into ice-cold water. Called me chicken.’
‘And look what happened when you jumped,’ she said, suddenly sounding happy. ‘But come on in, the water’s fine. And I and every Sandpiper Islander will be very pleased to welcome you in.’
‘So...is that what you wanted?’ he demanded of Hoppy as he disconnected, and Hoppy jumped up on his knee and licked him, nose to jaw.
‘Gee, thanks,’ he muttered. ‘Between you and Gina, I’m lost.’
CHAPTER TEN
BABS WAS GROWING more and more frail. Even though she didn’t want Gina hovering, her condition continued to decline. She was weak, she was constantly tired, but she was also fiercely independent. When Gina dared ask, she had her head bitten off for her pains.
Still, she knew Babs wanted her to be there. The night she’d had the full-blown heart attack must have been terrifying. If Hugh hadn’t noticed her light hadn’t gone on...if he hadn’t cared enough to check...
There was a reason that every time she felt up to it Babs was still cooking pies for him. �
�Give this to the doctor if you see him,’ she’d say nonchalantly as Gina left for work. And there’d often be pie for Gina as well—which was pretty much the only way Babs had of signifying she was grateful for Gina’s presence.
There was no other way, though. Gina learned fast not to offer to help, to stay out of her aunt’s way. But the need was there.
A month into her stay she came home after clinic and Babs was still in bed. That day Babs conceded she might just accept help taking a shower.
But the independence remained. ‘Can I ask Hugh if he could pop in after clinic, just to have a listen to your heart?’ Gina asked, and almost had her head bitten off for her pains.
‘And waste his time? I don’t know how you managed to drag him into treating the whole blessed island, but if he thinks he’s treating me he has another think coming. He’d probably charge like a wounded bull...’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t.’
‘Then it’d be charity, and do you think I need that? Butt out, girl. Help me to shower and that’s it.’
The next morning, Gina worried about heading across to clinic, but Babs almost pushed her out of the house.
‘If you think I want you sitting here like a vulture, waiting for me to die, you have another think coming. It makes me nervous enough having you here at all. Get out and make yourself useful somewhere else.’
So she did, but that day the clinic was abnormally quiet. Since they’d started there’d been a constant stream of islanders wanting help. Both she and Hugh had been needed more than they’d anticipated, but bad weather was forecast for the next few days. The islanders were busy getting outdoor tasks done, preparing for one of the storms that happened too often for comfort on this remote, wild island.
She only saw one patient who needed Hugh. He’d taken to doing his administrative stuff—some Trust he talked of—in the back room of the clinic, so he could be at hand when needed.
‘Rosemary Harvey’s here,’ she told him. ‘She has an ulcer on her leg that’s looking nasty. It needs debridement. She’d been seeing one of the Gannet Island doctors and was thinking about taking the ferry over, but with this weather forecast the ferry’s not running. Can you do it?’
‘Of course.’ They were almost absurdly formal in this setting. It was as if the swim and what had come after had pushed them to a boundary that neither wanted to cross. That neither could cross.
But this morning he hesitated before he went to see Mrs Harvey. ‘Gina, tonight...this storm’s threatening to be frightening. Babs’s cottage isn’t exactly a fortress. Would you both like to spend the night at my place?’
She blinked. An offer of accommodation...
With Hugh.
She’d been figuring what they’d need for the debridement. For some reason she didn’t want to look at him.
‘That’s very thoughtful,’ she managed.
‘I’m very thoughtful.’
‘Yeah.’ She managed to turn and smile. ‘It seems you’re getting more and more thoughtful. Mrs Harvey practically bounced with delight when I suggested you might help with her leg. It’s not just Babs who thinks you’re the best invention since sliced bread.’ She caught herself and added hastily: ‘Your patients, I meant.’
‘What else could you mean?’
‘I...nothing.’ Dammit, what was it with this man? He had her totally off balance. And here he was, asking that she spend the night with him.
Um...what? Spend the night with him? Whoa. That her hormones had taken the offer of a night’s accommodation and decided to fling a wild party inside her treacherous head was totally dumb. He was offering to accommodate her ailing aunt during the storm, and she was the accompanying baggage.
Even that seemed pretty good to those treacherous hormones, but she clamped them down—she’d give them a good talking-to later—and geared herself for refusal.
‘Babs wouldn’t have a bar of it,’ she told him. ‘She’s ridden out storms before. We have storm shutters, lanterns, plenty of supplies. We can batten down for a couple of days. You think Babs would accept help if she wasn’t desperate?’
‘I know she wouldn’t. But you?’
‘I’m nowhere near desperate.’ She managed a glower. ‘But I will head home early if it’s okay with you. I’ll stick around and help with the debridement and then batten down the hatches.’
* * *
She wasn’t desperate?
She wasn’t, but the thought of Hugh’s solid, dependable house grew more and more enticing as the evening wore on.
And Babs grew worse.
When she got home from clinic, she found her aunt curled up in bed, ashen-faced, her covers drawn up to her chin almost as if she was trying to hide.
‘Pain?’ Gina asked, trying not to panic. Her aunt’s face was deathly pale and there was a tinge of blue around her lips.
‘Just...no...just getting hard to...’
‘Let’s hook up the oxygen cylinder and call Hugh,’ she told her.
‘No!’
‘Babs—’
‘I won’t have help. I don’t need it. I don’t need you.’ When Gina lent over to put her fingers on her neck, to feel her pulse, Babs grabbed her hand as if to push her away—but then she clung.
‘I’m glad you’ve come home, girl.’
‘I’m glad I came home,’ Gina said softly. ‘Babs, let me help. Let Hugh help.’
‘For what? To live longer? I don’t need it.’
‘The oxygen...’ Hugh had set it up for her when she’d come home from hospital and shown her how to use it.
‘Okay, the oxygen,’ Babs conceded, as if it were a truly magnanimous concession. ‘But nothing else. And can you stop those shutters banging?’
That was easier said than done, Gina thought. The shutters were old and rickety, and they’d had no maintenance for years. She’d fastened them as much as she could, but the wind was building to gale force.
She thought of Hugh’s house, hunkered in the landscape, looking as if it was built to withstand an apocalypse. She thought of the limited things she could do to help her aunt.
Hugh was a phone call away. He’d come, she knew he’d come. He’d take them both over there. He’d know how to help Babs.
But this was Babs’s call. This was her aunt’s house and it was her aunt’s right to call the shots on her treatment, on what she did and didn’t want. For so many years she’d lived alone—apart from those two strained years where she’d had to put up with Gina. Gina had to respect that.
So she foraged in the storeroom and found hammer and nails and went out and nailed the shutters closed. She’d have to pull the nails out in the morning but then...what mattered was tonight.
A couple of slats were missing on the shutters. Grit was being blasted at her while she nailed, and she sent up a silent prayer that nothing would get through to crack the windows. There was so little Babs would let her do, but she could do her darnedest to give her peace.
Then she went inside, bullied her aunt into drinking a mug of hot, sweet tea—or at least a portion of it—then stoked up the fire and settled beside it.
She didn’t go to bed. She hadn’t nailed the shutters on her bedroom and maybe she should have, but she wouldn’t have slept anyway. She didn’t like storms. She didn’t want to be here.
She’d tried to pull up a chair and sit by Babs, but Babs had told her in no uncertain terms to take herself off. ‘If I’m dying, I’ll do it alone,’ she’d managed.
‘Please, Babs, let me call Hugh.’
‘Get out of my life.’
So she sat and stared into the fire and thought... Well, she tried not to think. Right now the world was just too unutterably bleak. Every now and then she rose and opened Babs’s door a sliver, listened to the labouring breathing, softly asking... ‘Babs? Do you want me to come in?’
‘No.’
/>
Oh, that breathing, though.
There was nothing she could do, but sleep was impossible. Outside the wind was a series of shrieking gusts. The little cottage seemed to be shaking on its foundations.
And then, at three in the morning, the lights went out. No electricity.
There was the faint glow from the fire. She focussed on that, holding to its glow to keep panic at bay. The dark, the storm...
‘It’s okay,’ she said, out loud. ‘We have lanterns and candles in the kitchen. You’re a big girl, Gina Marshall. You can cope with this.’
But it was with trembling hands that she fumbled for the lantern and headed for Babs’s room. Babs had left the bedside lamp on—that would have gone off. She needed to check.
She opened the bedroom door and stilled. Every time she’d checked—every twenty minutes or so—she’d heard that laboured breathing.
Now there was nothing.
Her own heart seemed to stop. She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing but not knowing what had happened. Finally, she made her way to the bed, set the lantern down, put her fingers on the old lady’s face.
Death had slipped quietly into the room.
Her aunt looked as if she were sleeping.
She was gone.
* * *
Hugh had been dozing by the fire, but only lightly, and he was awake when the lights went out.
His place was secure. Nestled into the side of the hill, built of stone and with double-glazed windows and secure shutters, nature could throw its might at his house and it wouldn’t move. Inside the living room, with the fire blazing in the hearth, he could almost imagine the storm wasn’t happening.
Except it was happening. He should be in bed, but a deep sense of unease had him not even trying to sleep. Across the bay, within sight from his living-room windows, he could see the faint lights from Babs’s home. And Gina’s home.
Usually the lights there went off at about eleven. Tonight though, they’d stayed on. Babs’s shutters were old, slats were missing, and he could still see the chinks of light.
As the night wore on his sense of unease only deepened. His place was safe. Babs’s cottage—not so much.
Healing Her Brooding Island Hero Page 12
