He rapped smartly on her door and turned round to look at her tiny front garden. He couldn’t remember which one it had been, but one of his earlier loves had been just like Libby. He remembered her short blonde hair and her slim, well-toned body. She loved gardens too; and she was a nurse. He frowned as he tried to think more clearly...in fact most of his serious loves had been blonde and…nurses. He smiled. One could say he had a real thing about blonde nursing staff.
The sound of a bolt being pushed back made him turn to face the door, and there she stood. His Libby! His darling girl!
“Nigel, you’re here.”
He smiled as deep a smile as he could, briefly wondering why she looked so pale and tense. “Hello, darling, sorry I’m late. I’m so glad we’ve finally managed to get an evening together. Are you going to invite me in? I don’t really want to kiss you on the doorstep in front of the whole neighbourhood.”
Libby stood aside as he walked into her home. She cast a wild look back out at the near street, but it stood empty. There was no one around that she could see.
Chapter 37
Jem couldn’t understand it. First Peter had bolted from the pub like a rabbit from its hole, and now Robert had just phoned to say he couldn’t make it after all. Robert didn’t even pause long enough to ask whether he had found anything out either. Frustrated, Jem downed his unfinished pint, strode over to the bar and ordered another.
“It’s nearly time, mate,” the barman said. “But seeing as I know ya, just remember you bought this pint ten minutes ago, see? I don’t want to lose me licence. What happened to your friend? He left rather sudden like, didn’t he?”
“Mmm. Suddenly remembered he had to be somewhere else. Never mind, I’ll see him tomorrow at work, and we can finish our conversation then.”
The barman nodded and carried on drying his glasses, chatting up the barmaid with his easy banter while she rang up the till for that night’s takings.
Jem finished his pint in record time and slapped his glass down on the bar. “See you,” he called and made for the exit. The fresh tangy air from the Hamble River hit him as he wandered over to his car and unlocked the door. The night was calm and as black as a tar pit. I wonder why Peter ran off like that, he mused. One minute we were talking perfectly naturally, or as naturally as you could with Peter and the next, he was off like a whippet.
Jem concentrated on what they had been saying. He couldn’t remember saying anything inflammatory. Peter had been looking out of the window, balancing on two chair legs like a kid. Then suddenly, wham, he was off.
Jem pondered over the evening some more. Had Peter seen something or someone outside the pub to catch his attention? Or had he simply wanted to get away and be on his own? He shook his head. No, something triggered Peter’s reaction. What had he seen that was so important that it made him run off like that? A shiver ran down Jem’s spine.
Chapter 38
The house was in complete darkness when Robert arrived except for a dim porch light. He let himself in and moved quietly down the hallway into the kitchen. Feeling around the wall, he felt for the switch and was rewarded when the kitchen was flooded in bright light. The clock on the cooker said it was getting on for midnight, and he wasn’t surprised finding the house deserted at this hour. Diana wasn’t a night owl, and she escaped to bed far earlier than before Poppy's birth.
Since her arrival, he had become used to the kitchen's different odours. Diana enjoyed cooking as much as he did, and they both relished in trying out new recipes on each other. Tonight had been no exception. Robert could still smell the aroma left over from a duck dish she had experimented with. The flavour had been both aromatic and delicate, and Robert found himself wishing his long departed Morwenna could have been there sharing in the fun. He stifled a sigh. For the first time since his family’s horrific accident, he felt he was finally coming to terms with life as it now was. Once upon a time, if anyone had suggested that having another woman and her baby sharing his house would be beneficial, he would have laughed in their face. Now he was quite sure Diana and Poppy were balm for his deeply hidden anguish.
Meeting Libby was something else, and he found her proximity disturbing. Thinking of Libby, he turned his thoughts to the evening. He felt bad that he had let Jem down by not meeting him at the pub. Under the circumstances it couldn’t be helped. He wondered if Peter had known or seen anything perhaps.
“I thought I heard you come in. Are you making hot chocolate by chance?”
Lost in thought, Robert jumped and turned at the sound of Diana’s voice behind him.
“Jesus, Diana, you move like a cat, I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Sorry. Steve complains about that too. Well, are you? Or shall I do it?” She wandered into the room wearing a cotton knee-length nightdress and nothing on her feet.
“Aren’t you cold?” he said, moving over to the cupboard for the tin of chocolate and a carton of milk from the fridge.
“Not really, my feet are a bit. Did you have a nice evening? Who were you meeting? Someone called Jeremy or something.”
“Jem, and no, I didn’t actually meet him in the end. I got stuck at the base. By the time I managed to get away, it wasn’t worth the trouble driving down to Hamble. How do you like this? Extra sugar?”
“Certainly not. A girl has to look after her figure, especially after giving birth. I put on pounds, and I’ve only just got down to my pre-preggers weight and size, although I have changed shape a bit according to Steve.” She grinned as she went and perched on a kitchen stool by the breakfast table.
“You look okay to me,” Robert said, eyeing her from where he stood. “Morwenna got her figure back pretty quickly too, if I remember rightly.”
“She was a lovely size to start with. I’m a bigger girl all round.” She laughed. “So what’s new?”
“Nothing.”
She sniffed. “Pooh, Robert. Don’t forget I’m the actress in the family. What are you hiding?”
He stiffened while adding chocolate to the two brightly-coloured mugs he had lifted down from a shelf and turned to meet her gaze.
“I was just thinking of Libby, that’s all. You know she has this knack for getting herself into trouble. Take this so-called fiancé of hers, Nigel. She told me the other night they’re having a break from each other. Well, listen to this too. Her fiancé has his ex-wife staying with him. Libby’s putting on hold moving in with him, and she’s not told him anything about her intruder! I despair!”
Diana was silent as she let him carry on.
“She’s finally come to the conclusion they’re not suited – at long last. That’s not all. Apparently, ever since she came out of hospital, things have felt odd to her. She’s told me that before. But what she didn’t tell me was, when she first woke up in hospital, she found Nigel sitting there at her bedside. She thought he was a total stranger until he claimed she was his fiancée. When she tried to protest and noticed she didn’t have an engagement ring, he argued it was in the jewellers being resized. She doesn’t actually believe they were ever engaged. She’s come to the conclusion it’s something he’s made up. I tell you, Diana, it’s bloody spooky.”
“It does sound suspicious.”
“Nigel had a key to her place at one time. He allegedly needed it to take her some clothes when she was in hospital. What if he took a copy? Could he be her intruder? And now the latest is, she thought she saw some porter called Peter hanging around her house the other evening. That’s what Jem was doing this evening when I was supposed to be meeting him. He was going to tactfully put a few questions to the porter.”
“Tactfully? What about the police?”
“Well, there’s the rub. You see, the porter is apparently a nice, harmless character who suffers from a form of Asperger’s Syndrome. He keeps himself to himself and enjoys a quiet life with his trainspotting and amateur dramatics.”
She frowned. “Amateur dramatics? Does he perform on stage then? That sounds strange, as most Aspe
rgers like a solitary life with no fuss and bother.”
“No, I don’t think so. His forte is stage make-up. He’s a whizz at disguise—”
They both looked at each other in shocked silence. They had both heard and read the news reports concerning the hospital attacker and his assault on nurses.
“Stage make-up. What if…? No, it couldn’t be. Surely someone would have thought about this before? Besides, Jem says he’s harmless,” said Robert.
Diana pursed her lips while she thought before replying. “And what did Jem find out tonight do you suppose? It’ll be interesting when you ask him.”
Robert glanced down at his watch. “It’s a bit late to ring him now. I know he’s on an early tomorrow. Look, there’s nothing we can do now until the morning. Let’s call it a night and we’ll talk to him then. I think I’ll finish my chocolate in bed. I’m bushed.”
She put her head on one side as she studied him. “Mmm, you do look a bit jaded. By the way, why are your jeans all muddy around the bottom? It looks like you fell into a puddle.”
Robert looked down at his feet and saw that she was right. “I took the opportunity to visit Caterina while I was down at Hamble. I must have stepped in some water then. There’s a high tide at the moment, and the sea was well over the wall in places. I’ll say goodnight then.”
Chapter 39
“So, when Stella showed up, there was nothing I could do about it except have her stay with me in town.”
Nigel sprawled on Libby’s sofa, looking very relaxed and evidently savouring the red Rioja wine in his glass. Listening to his explanation about the past couple of weeks’ comings and goings, Libby wondered if he was as laid back as he appeared to be. There was a tautness about his face and eyes that she didn’t remember being there before. He looked as if he had lost some weight too. Libby felt a pang of guilt. Despite all her good intentions, perhaps she was being too harsh with him. It couldn’t be easy having your ex-wife turn up and not be cordial to her, especially when their work involved a certain amount of commitment and involvement between them. She knew all about the famous psychiatrist, Stella, who was also an eminent professor in her field.
“So, does Stella stay with you often?” she heard herself say and not really knowing why she was asking the question. It wasn’t as if she was jealous.
Nigel paused as if considering whether to tell her the truth or not, and Libby thought she caught a trace of reddening around the tips of his ears. “To tell you the truth, she does rather impose upon me. These past few years, she’s made such a name for herself on both sides of the Atlantic that she’s constantly to-ing and fro-ing between England and the States. She doesn’t seem to understand that we are finally divorced or that my London house and Southampton apartment are my own. She sometimes turns up without giving me good notice or, on occasions, without letting me know. I have explained to her about you – about us.”
Libby felt her stomach flip over. She had to tell Nigel how she felt today. “And?”
“She understands how I feel about you and that we want to be together. As she’s spending so much time over here now, I’m going to encourage her to buy her own place. I don’t mind her using the London one, but I’d much prefer to have the Southampton one just for us. She’s only here for a few more days, she said, and I suggest you move in once she’s gone. Darling Libby, I can’t wait!” He caught Libby’s hand in his own and raised it wrist side uppermost to his lips. “It’ll be so good. You do realise I’ve never lived with anyone else except Stella before, don’t you?” He caressed her hand with his fingers, the rhythm almost hypnotic by his touch.
Libby caught her breath, wondering how she could tell Nigel she wasn’t moving anywhere. His attitude was beginning to annoy her. Did he think she was really that stupid? It was obvious there was still something between them. Nobody in their right mind – amongst her circle of friends anyway – regularly shared a house once separated or divorced.
“Actually, Nigel, about me moving in with you, I’m sorr—”
“Darling, shall I get us another drink?” Nigel gave her hand a final stroke and stood up. “Another glass of wine?” He put his hand into his jacket pocket as if looking for something.
Relieved to be given a moment to recollect her thoughts and gather courage, Libby nodded. “Good idea, yes please.”
Nigel walked into the kitchen and Libby heard the cork being withdrawn from another bottle of Rioja. “Have you any peanuts?” he called.
“Yes, in the cupboard to the left of the microwave,” she answered.
Nigel walked back to where Libby was sitting and placed a brimming wine glass into her hand. “Sorry, I’ve filled it a bit too much. Take a big mouthful before you spill it. That’s my girl, cheers!”
The Rioja was lovely, with the distinct characteristic made by oak-aging. Nigel may have had many faults, but he certainly never chose a bad wine, Libby thought. She took another long sip, preparing to make good her resolution.
She turned to face him. “Nigel, I must talk to you. Please listen to what I have to say—”
He held up a hand to prevent her going on. “Libby, I know what you’re going to say. I must apologise for my behaviour of late. I have no excuse, except things have been on my mind, and what with work getting in the way, I know I’ve neglected you abysmally. I promise I’ll make it up to you, my darling. Wait until we’re together, then you’ll see how wonderful it’s going to be. You are going to be my perfect woman. By the way, I never did see you in that dress I bought you. You remember the beautiful purple one with the button-down sleeves. You’ll look stunning in that. Would you like to try it on now and give me a showing?”
Libby didn’t quite know how she held the neutral look on her face. That awful dress! She wished she had given it to the charity shop when she had the chance. “Not now Nigel, I really don’t feel like putting on a long-sleeved dress. It’s far too hot. What I was going to say was about moving in with you, I’m —”
“Have some more wine, my sweet, here,” he said, producing the wine bottle from the coffee table in front of them and hastily refilling her glass. “It’s far too good to waste.”
Libby watched the rich red wine being poured and again drank deeply, watching Nigel over the rim of her glass. If only he would let her get a word in! She had never appreciated before how much of a power freak he was. This had better be her last glass or she would be sloshed before she knew it. Already she felt a little tipsy.
“I also realised I was shockingly rude when I suggested you didn’t need any of your things and to move in with just your clothes. Of course you must sort through your belongings and bring your treasures. We’ll find room for them somewhere. Come on, drink up, I have something else I want to show you.”
Libby sat forward on the sofa, struggling to interrupt Nigel. He was being very tiresome, plying her with wine and cutting in whenever she had something to say. She had to get him to shut up and understand! As she sat up, the room suddenly seemed to move and things went out of focus. Her eyes gaped at the curtains drawn across the French windows. Was she imagining it?
“Nigel, I feel—”
“What’s that, my love? Do you feel all right? Drink your wine. It’ll make you feel better.”
Libby was aware of his nearness as he held the glass to her lips and helped her to gulp it down. There was a whooshing noise in her ears, and she was finding it difficult to hold her head up. “I feel odd. I can’t keep my head—”
All she could see was Nigel’s grinning face before her as he poured the wine down her throat and then tossed the glass down onto to the table. Libby watched as if in slow motion as the glass toppled over and broke on the wooden table top. Slivers of jagged glass fell onto the floor below.
“Now, my love, I have your first surprise here for you,” he whispered, drawing a package from his jacket pocket. Libby watched helplessly as he undid the jeweller’s box and slid a silver bracelet from the black velvet into his hand. “This is for yo
u, my darling. I’ve had this for some time, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give it to you. Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve found the perfect gift for one as precious as you. Now we’ve agreed when you’re to move in, I think this the ideal time.”
“But I’m not—” Powerless and speechless, Libby lay on the sofa as he brushed her skirt above her knees and fixed the bracelet around her ankle. Once in place he sat back to admire his handiwork, a smile on his face. Libby could feel her eyelids drooping, heavy as lead.
3 The Surgeon's Blade Page 18
