Gemma knew he was waiting for her to say why she preferred a car to public transport. ‘Do you miss anything about Dubai?’ she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
‘Certain aspects of it, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘The working conditions were excellent and my apartment was bordering on the luxurious—oh, and I made some good friends.’
‘I’m amazed you even contemplated coming back here,’ she remarked.
Stephen shrugged. ‘Like I said, dear old England pulled.’
‘So was there no one special out there?’ She hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t know why she had, and regretted it the moment the words were out. She became conscious of his slightly amused, sidelong glance.
‘Special?’ he asked. ‘What do you mean by special?’
‘Well, amongst all those good friends you made, wasn’t there any one who was more special than the others?’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that sort of special. Special like you and I were.’
‘Yes…I guess.’ This was just the sort of topic she had wanted to avoid and she’d fallen headlong into it.
‘No,’ he said at last, ‘there was no one like that.’ He paused and for a moment the silence seemed to hang between them like something tangible. Then, with a little sigh, he said, ‘But that, of course, isn’t to say I didn’t have a good time.’
‘I wouldn’t for one moment have expected otherwise, Stephen,’ she said dryly. ‘I never would have thought you’d fit comfortably into an enclosed order.’
He chuckled. ‘Quite,’ he said, but made no attempt to elaborate further, leaving her to speculate on the type of women he might have dated during his time abroad. Stephen, she knew, preferred blondes, but if they’d been in short supply in Dubai had he succumbed to the charms of the local girls? The images that thought produced, from starry nights and crescent moons to sultry nights in the kasbah, evoked an acute stab of jealousy which she desperately struggled to suppress.
By this time they were caught up in the heavy traffic pouring out of the centre of London and Gemma had to concentrate as they reached one set of lights after another or she had to negotiate lane changes at the many roundabouts.
‘How about you?’ he said casually at last, breaking the silence that had grown between them.
‘Me?’ she asked, knowing full well what he meant.
‘Yes, has there been anyone special for you?’
‘Let’s just say I don’t think I was cut out for an enclosed order either,’ she replied ambiguously.
‘Touché.’ Stephen gave a wry smile.
They kept the conversation light after that, discussing work issues and how conditions at Denby differed from those at St Jerome’s. At first it seemed strange to be seated there next to Stephen, but once the sense of unreality had worn off it seemed the most natural thing in the world, almost as if they’d picked up where they’d left off three years before, and for a while it seemed like all the anguish and heartache in between had never happened.
Before Gemma knew it they had reached Streatham and Stephen was directing her to his address. ‘Here we are,’ he said at last, ‘just here on the left.’
She drew up and, with the engine still running, looked up at the large three-storey house.
‘That’s mine,’ he said with a grin, leaning forward, ‘right at the top. I have to say I hadn’t realised that chimney-pots were quite so interesting or came in so many varieties.’
‘I expect you have wonderful views,’ she said.
‘I do.’ He paused. ‘Listen, why don’t you come up and see for yourself?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she said quickly.
‘Go on, it won’t take long.’
‘I have to be somewhere…’
‘Five minutes.’
‘Oh, all right,’ she heard herself say.
They climbed out of the car and after Gemma had locked the door she followed Stephen up the steps to the front entrance to the house. There were panes of dark blue stained glass around the front door and in the porch five separate doorbells, each with its own plastic-covered card. The top one bore the name Preston. By the time Stephen had unlocked the door and she was following him up several flights of stairs she was already regretting having allowed him to talk her into coming in. But that was the problem with Stephen—he’d always seemed to have the knack of talking her into things.
‘Welcome to my loft,’ he said as they reached the top of the last flight of stairs and he unlocked and flung open a door. If penthouse had been an exaggeration, so had loft conversion for as Gemma stood on the threshold and looked around her she was immediately impressed by the minimalist décor and the lightness of the area. Huge slanting windows took up one entire wall and looked out across the rooftops of London whilst the main living space was cleverly divided into sitting, eating and cooking areas.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘what do you think?’
‘It’s wonderful, Stephen.’ Slowly she moved forward. She’d been quite prepared to have a quick glance round then beat a hasty retreat, but she found herself lingering, wanting to see, wanting to look at what had been done and wanting to stand at those slanting windows and gaze at the remarkable view.
‘The bedroom is through here.’ She turned from the window to find that Stephen had moved across to the far side of the living area and opened a door and was obviously waiting for her to go and look. Slowly she crossed the room, somehow reluctant to enter his bedroom, afraid of the emotions it might evoke.
‘It’s a bit on the small side,’ he said, ‘but I guess adequate enough for one.’ The room carried the same uncluttered lines as the rest of the apartment, with ivory walls, blinds and carpet relieved only by the bedcover, which was a deep shade of burgundy. A white towelling bathrobe hung beside the wardrobe and on the bedside table stood a radio clock alarm. Both these items stirred some memory in Gemma—the robe because it was the type Stephen always wore, and the radio because it was the same one that had stood beside his bed in his previous flat, the one that had awakened them on numerous occasions.
As she stared at the radio, battling with her emotions, she became aware that Stephen was standing very close behind her—so close, in fact, that had she turned she would have touched him. She became aware of other things; the scent of him, again familiar—the same cologne and brand of soap he had always used—and a sense of longing. For quite suddenly, here in Stephen’s bedroom, with him standing so close to her, she had an overwhelming desire to throw herself into his arms, to beg him to let it be how it had once been between them, to have his lips touch hers, for the passion to flare between them again just as it had before, and then for him to draw her down onto his bed and make love to her, disturbing the neat smoothness of that immaculate burgundy bedcover.
But then what? What would happen afterwards when the questions began? What would she tell him when he asked about her life in the three years they’d been apart? What would his reaction be when he found out he had a two-year-old daughter whose existence had been kept a secret from him?
‘Gemma…’ Briefly she felt his hand on her arm and wildly she swung round. ‘I have to go, Stephen,’ she said. Suddenly the most urgent thing in the world was for her to get away from this man who still had so much control over her emotions.
‘But…’ he began to protest, no doubt to delay her. ‘Can’t I get you a drink or something?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, pushing past him. ‘The flat is lovely, but I really do have to go…’
He followed her to the door and said goodbye, but as she clattered down the stairs, even in her haste she knew he stood on the narrow landing outside his flat, leaning over the banisters, watching her, a puzzled expression on his face as if he couldn’t understand what he had done to upset her.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I NEED to change your dressings Mr Grainger.’ With a smile at the man Gemma drew the curtains around the bed. Edward Grainger had come back to the ward that morning after a spell in In
tensive Care following a quadruple bypass. Carefully Gemma checked his heart monitor, blood pressure and fluid chart.
‘We’re going to be getting rid of some of these tubes and drains,’ Gemma explained as she gently removed the soiled dressings covering the large wound on his chest. ‘We’ll remove the catheter shortly as well and we can take away your morphine pump. Don’t worry,’ she added soothingly when she caught sight of the patient’s expression, ‘you’ll have pain relief by mouth from now on as and when you need it. Now, tell me, have you done any breathing exercises this morning?’
Edward nodded. ‘Yes, the physiotherapist came in just now.’
‘That’s good. You’re doing well, Mr Grainger, and the wound is looking very healthy. When I’ve finished here we’ll ask another nurse to come along and we’ll get you out of bed for a little walk around the ward. But first I also need to take off those leg bandages.’
‘When you’ve finished, Nurse, would you phone my wife for me?’ Mr Grainger suddenly looked anxious, as if he’d just remembered something. ‘It’s her birthday, you see. I’ve left a card and her present with our daughter but…well, it’ll be the first birthday morning I haven’t been there…and I would rather like to speak to her.’
‘Of course,’ said Gemma as she replaced the soiled dressings with fresh pads, ‘but, instead of me phoning her, how about if I bring the phone trolley in here, then you can phone her and wish her a happy birthday yourself?’
‘Thanks, that would be great.’ Looking much happier, Edward leaned his head back on his pillows and closed his eyes. With his grey hair and rimless glasses he briefly reminded Gemma of her father, and just for a moment she was swamped with a rush of feeling. When her father had been a patient on this unit, and she and her mother had sat at his bedside, the outcome had been very different from that of Edward Grainger’s.
She was just finishing her tasks when she heard sounds outside in the ward that suggested the doctors had arrived for their morning rounds. She hadn’t seen Stephen since the previous day when she’d left him standing on the landing outside his flat. At the time the most important thing had seemed to have been to get away from him as fast as she could but, perversely, since then she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind and all that morning she’d actually been consciously waiting for his arrival.
With her heart thumping uncomfortably she opened the curtains and looked out. Mr Van Haelfen and Madeleine Powell, together with Kim and Sister Miles, were grouped around the bed of a patient who was due to go to Theatre that morning, but there was no sign of Stephen. Gemma was aware of a stab of disappointment and found her gaze travelling to the entrance to see if maybe he was late in arriving. Even as she was wondering, the group moved forward to Edward’s bed.
‘I saw Mr Grainger earlier this morning and reviewed him,’ said Madeleine to Mr Van Haelfen. ‘He’s progressing well.’ She handed him the report. ‘Oxygen therapy has been discontinued.’ She glanced at Gemma for confirmation of this fact and when Gemma nodded in response she continued, ‘Dressings have been changed and he’s going onto oral analgesics.’
‘Good morning, Mr Grainger.’ Mr Van Haelfen looked down at his patient. ‘You’re looking better than on the last occasion we met. I trust you’re also feeling much improved.’
‘Well, yes, I am…’ Mr Grainger nodded.
‘I performed coronary artery bypass graft surgery using the saphenous vein from your leg,’ the surgeon explained. ‘It was completely successful and I’m well satisfied with the results.’
‘Well, thank you. Thank you very much, Mr Van Haelfen,’ said Mr Grainger. ‘I’m very much obliged to you.’
‘Not at all.’ The consultant inclined his head. ‘It’s all in a day’s work.’
‘I’d like to thank that other young fellow as well,’ said Edward as Bjorn Van Haelfen would have moved away. ‘He was very patient with me and my wife in explaining everything that was going to happen. My wife was in a bit of a state but he was really very good.’
‘I presume you’re referring to my registrar, Stephen Preston,’ said Bjorn Van Haelfen. ‘Unfortunately he’s on a course at another hospital for a couple of days but, no doubt, you’ll still be with us when he returns.’
Gemma’s heart sank. So Stephen wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be seeing him anyway, and if what Mr Van Haelfen said was right, and there was no reason to presume otherwise, Stephen wouldn’t be in for two days. Two whole days, she told herself as she made her way to the sluice with the dressings trolley. But why should that make any difference to her, for heaven’s sake? She pulled herself up sharply. It had only been the day before that she hadn’ t been able to wait to get away from him, and here she was now bemoaning the fact that she wasn’t going to see him for the next two days. What on earth was wrong with her? Stephen meant nothing to her now. He had gone out of her life a long time ago and whereas at one time he had meant the world to her that had now all changed.
So, if that was the case, she asked herself as she disposed of the soiled dressings and began cleaning the trolley, why did she feel so miserable? And why had she been looking forward to seeing him so much? When she’d left his flat the previous day she’d driven home in a curiously emotional state. Being so close to Stephen again had aroused all the old feelings and longings and the evening before, while she’d been bathing Daisy and putting her to bed, those same feelings had resurfaced. She’d been hard pressed not to let them overwhelm her completely.
Until Stephen had appeared at Denby she had really imagined herself to be getting over him, but now, seeing him and being with him, she feared that had all been an illusion and she was forced to face up to the fact that her feelings for him were as strong as ever.
What if she was simply to go along with these feelings? she asked herself now. What if she was to find herself in the middle of a full-scale affair with Stephen for a second time? And what would happen when he found out about Daisy, as he would be sure to if they became close again? Was he still wary of commitment? Would he take her love as he had before then simply move on out of her life? Could she let that happen again? More to the point, would she survive it a second time?
Even as the questions teemed in her mind she turned and found that Kim had come into the sluice room behind her. ‘Oh, Kim,’ she said with a start. ‘I didn’t hear you. You made me jump. I was miles away.’
‘Sorry,’ said Kim abruptly. Turning away, she began emptying a kidney dish.
Suddenly Gemma felt guilty that she’d been so wrapped up in her own affairs that she’d forgotten her friend’s troubles. Gently she reached out and touched Kim’s arm. ‘How are you this morning?’ she asked.
Kim shrugged. ‘OK, I guess.’
‘Did you tell Dean?’
‘No.’ Kim shook her head.
‘Oh, Kim…’ Gemma stared at her sympathetically.
‘I know. I know.’ Kim gave a deep sigh. ‘I suppose I hoped that if I did nothing the whole thing might prove to be a mistake and just go away. But that’s stupid, I know. It isn’t going to go away, is it?’ Her gaze met Gemma’s.
‘No, Kim,’ Gemma replied gently, ‘I’m afraid it isn’ t.’
‘I even wondered about a termination.’ Kim gulped. ‘But then…oh, I don’t know. I started thinking that this is a baby we’re talking about, not just a collection of cells. It’s a real baby and it is a part of both me and Dean—there will be similarities to us both and somehow I don’t think I could do that. Dean would be devastated, I know he would…’
‘And what about you?’ asked Gemma. ‘How would you feel?’
‘I think it might be something I would regret for the rest of my life…’ Kim trailed off uncertainly then she looked at Gemma again. ‘What about you?’ she said. ‘Did you contemplate a termination?’
‘Yes—briefly,’ Gemma admitted. ‘During the time of panic after I first found out I thought I would just go quietly back to the Midlands, do what was necessary and that no one else need ever kno
w.’
‘What happened to change your mind?’ asked Kim curiously.
‘My mother heard me throwing up each morning and guessed what had happened.’ Gemma smiled ruefully. ‘She tackled me and when I admitted it and said how hopeless the whole thing was she made me see that it wasn’t the end of the world and that together we could sort it out.’
‘And how do you feel now?’
‘Now?’ Gemma didn’t even need time to consider. ‘Well, I have no regrets I can assure you, certainly not about Daisy, I adore her and so does my mother—we simply couldn’t imagine life without her. But if it hadn’t been for my mother’s help I know that being a single mother would have been much more difficult.’
‘Do you think you would have gone through with it without your mother?’ asked Kim.
‘Yes,’ Gemma replied slowly, ‘actually, I think I would have done when it came to the crunch.’
‘And what about Daisy’s father—do you wish he’d stayed around?’ asked Kim, the curiosity apparent in her voice.
Suddenly Gemma longed to tell Kim about Stephen, to unburden it all, but somehow she resisted the temptation. ‘Sometimes I do,’ she admitted in answer to her friend’s question. ‘But, well, I’ve managed all this time without him…’ She shrugged. ‘But you and Dean are different—you’re in a long-term relationship. OK, so it’s been a bit rocky at times, but aren’t all relationships? You have to tell him, Kim.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Kim nodded.
‘Is he going to Alex’s party with you?’ Gemma asked after a moment.
Kim shook her head. ‘No, he’s on duty.’
‘I see.’ Gemma knew Dean was a paramedic. ‘In that case we may as well go together.’
‘Actually, I was going to suggest that I pick you up,’ said Kim. ‘I guess if I’m going to take this thing seriously I’d better stop drinking right from the start.’
‘Good girl.’ Gemma grinned. ‘Now, if you’ve finished scouring that kidney dish, which by now must be the cleanest in the entire hospital, would you come and give me a hand in getting Mr Grainger out of bed? We’ll let him have a little walk then I’ll take the phone trolley to him so he can have a chat with his wife.’
Dr. Preston's Daughter Page 6
