Damn. Ben didn’t want to speak to him, and he was sure it was mutual, but he cut straight to the point. ‘Dr Tremayne, I’m phoning from St Piran. It’s Ben Carter—there’s an outbreak of vomiting and diarrhoea that may be connected to Trevallyn House in Harbour Road in Penhally. It’s run by—’
‘Beatrice Trevallyn. I know. What are the symptoms?’
‘Acute abdominal cramps, profuse diarrhoea—in one of the patients it’s bloody and mucoid—vomiting, headache, pyrexia of 38.5°C. The first patient in is a man from Birmingham who stayed there last night, the other couple have been there since Friday and were on their way home. They became ill just after they started their journey. There are no other links that we can establish between them apart from Trevallyn House.’
‘Right. I’ll check it out. Have you notified Public Health?’
‘No, I’m just about to. I suspect it’s salmonella, and Public Health will want to inspect the premises. I’m just alerting you as it’s likely you’ll be called by anyone local who may be suffering from it. If it’snot restricted to that one source, we need to know so we can set up an isolation unit.’
‘Fine. I’ll get on it now.’
And Nick hung up without another word. Ben shrugged. It suited him. The last thing he could envisage with the man was small talk!
He went back to the patients, isolated together in one bay, and concentrated on getting fluids into them and monitoring their symptoms. They were all too ill to travel home, and until they got the results of the stool samples from the Public Health lab, they needed to be barrier nursed in isolation. The last thing they needed in the hospital was an outbreak of winter vomiting virus, and the symptoms were similar.
He set up IV fluid replacement, checked them all again to make sure there was no further deterioration, and then he was vomited on.
Great.
He went and showered very, very thoroughly. He didn’t need to take home anything nasty to a pregnant woman who already had quite enough on her plate.
‘Call for you, Ben,’ the charge nurse said through the door. ‘It’s Nick Tremayne.’
‘Take a message,’ he yelled, and towelled himself roughly dry, pulled on a clean set of scrubs and went back out. ‘What did he want?’
‘Mrs Trevallyn is sick, and her son, Davey, is in a state of collapse—he’s got learning difficulties as well, by the way. He’s sending them in. He says there are no other residents, nobody else has been there in the last seventy-two hours and he hasn’t been called out by anyone from outside the guest house.’
‘Right. Thanks. Looks localised, then. Anything from Public Health?’
‘No. I’ll chase them up.’
‘Do that—and can we get these three up to a medical ward? All five can be nursed together, and if I’m right, that’ll be the end of it, unless it’s meat from a local supplier, in which case we could get many more.’
‘Look on the bright side, why don’t you,’ the charge nurse said with a grin, and went to organise the removal of their patients from the unit.
‘I’ll get a fleet of cleaners in to deal with this lot,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘We’ll need a serious hosing-down of all this contaminated equipment before we can put it back into use.’
‘Good idea.’
And he needed to phone Lucy. He couldn’t leave the department until he had the results back and was sure it was only a restricted salmonella outbreak and not something much worse and more widespread.
It was the best and yet the most appalling fortnight of Lucy’s life. If it hadn’t been for Ben, it would have been intolerable—but if it hadn’t been for Ben, it wouldn’t have been intolerable, so that was stupid.
After Sunday when he was at work, they spent a lot of time together, both at Tregorran House and in his old house in Orchard Way. She was having only three days off, and refused to take any more despite Ben’s persuasion, so she had to make the best of it. And they were lovely days.
She wasn’t allowed to do anything, but he couldn’t stop her planning, and she ordered a skip and watched him fill it with the horrible carpets and curtains, and made notes for the wedding.
Not that there were many to make.
She needed a dress. She needed flowers—a simple posy would do, nothing much, and as it was Advent the church wouldn’t have flowers. Foliage, then—ivy and eucalyptus and variegated laurel from the garden. She could see plenty of things from where she was sitting, and if she had a few white flowers interspersed—roses, perhaps?—that would be enough.
The food was taken care of, and the drinks they’d get from Tony, and she’d spoken to everyone except Jack and Ed. Ed she’d emailed, because it was the easiest way to deal with it, and she’d sent Jack a text.
Needless to say, he hadn’t called her back, but he was obviously up to his eyes. He was working hard, throwing himself into his career—although to hear her father on the subject you’d be forgiven for thinking he was never out of night-clubs—and she knew he’d get back to her when he could.
As for the rest—well, there was no ‘rest’. That was it, the sum total of the arrangements. The hymns were chosen, the order of service typed up on Ben’s computer and printed off on fine card, and there was nothing left to do but wait for Jack to ring and her father to come round.
She wasn’t holding her breath.
‘You OK?’
She smiled up at Ben. ‘I’m fine. How about you?’
‘Good. All done. The skip’s full, the house is empty, all ready for the decorators to come in and blitz it, and guess what I found?’
He dangled a big old iron key in front of her, and she exclaimed in delight and reached for it. ‘The front door key!’
‘Is it? I thought it might be. It was under the mat. Want to try it?’
‘Oh, yes. I expect it’ll be a bit rusty, but we used to go out into the garden in the summer through the front door. It’s got bolts as well—I’ll let you do those.’
So he struggled with the bolts and finally freed them, and she put the key in the lock and turned it, and although it was a bit stiff, they heard the lock go, and together they turned the doorknob. A gust of wind caught the door and blew it open, and in front of them, beyond the garden and the field, was the sea, sparkling in the low winter sunlight.
She filled her lungs with the cold, fresh air and laughed. ‘Oh, that’s gorgeous! Oh, Ben, thank you.’
‘What, for finding the key? We could have had another one made.’
‘No,’ she said, turning to him and cradling his face in her hands. ‘For getting me my house.’
He stared down at her in silence for a moment, then he sighed softly and drew her into his arms.
‘It’s a pleasure,’ he murmured. ‘Just to see you happy is more than enough reward.’
He let her go, lifting his head, then he said, ‘Is that your phone?’
‘Oh—yes. I’ll get it.’ She hurried to her bag and pulled it out, pressing the button just in time. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, kiddo.’
‘Jack! Oh, Jack, I’m so glad you’ve got back to me. You got my text?’
‘Yes, I got it. That’s why I’m ringing you.’
‘Tell me you can come,’ she pleaded. ‘Dad’s being really difficult—it’s because it’s Ben. He’s still being really stupid about it and I can’t get through to him. I don’t think there’s a prayer he’ll come to the wedding, and Ed’s in Africa—Jack, I want you to give me away.’
There was a lengthy silence, and her heart sank. ‘Jack?’
‘Ah, hell, Lucy. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, kiddo, I can’t. Did you hear India died?’
‘Yes, of course I did. It was in all the gossip rags. Not that you told me, of course, because you never tell me anything—’
‘She’s got a child,’ he cut in.
‘Yes, I saw. But—’
‘Lucy, he’s mine. His name’s Freddie, and—he’s my son. I’ve been granted custody of him, and—oh, sis, I need you. I’m just
so out of my depth. I don’t know what I’m doing with him.’
She walked back into the kitchen and sat down again at the table they’d set up in there. ‘Oh, Jack. I don’t believe it. How old is he?’
‘Um—little. Nearly three. I’m just—I’m having problems with him adjusting to me. He misses his mother, and he doesn’t know who the hell I am, and I really don’t think I can leave him right now, and I certainly can’t bring him, not all that way. And all the fuss would just confuse him more.’
He wasn’t coming. And he was a father! Much more important, she told herself, and set aside her disappointment.
‘Oh, Jack, I quite understand. Don’t beat yourself up over it. And remember, you’re not alone. We’re all here for you. You could move back down here, so we can all help you.’
‘I can’t see Dad helping. He’d say I brought it on myself.’
‘No,’ she said, but with more conviction than she felt. ‘He’ll come round.’
‘I wish I had your confidence. Oh, Lucy, I just don’t know how to deal with Freddie—what to say to him to make it better.’
‘Just put yourself in his position, and be there for him, and be kind. And think about what I said, about moving back here. You don’t have to do this by yourself.’
He gave a ragged laugh that broke in the middle. ‘Just at the moment I don’t know if I can do it at all, sis. You know, give me a job I can do—a really messy RTA with lots of reconstruction work—and I’m happy as a pig in muck. Give me a little boy with huge blue eyes that watch me warily all day long, and I just fall apart. He needs a mother, and his own was bloody useless but at least she loved him…’
His voice cracked, and Lucy’s heart ached for him. For both of them. ‘Oh, Jack, you’ll cope,’ she said gently. ‘If I wasn’t so pregnant I’d come and see you, but—’
‘No, don’t be silly. You marry your Ben, and I’ll be thinking of you at the time, but I can’t get down. I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. You’re doing the right thing. Give him a hug from his Aunty Lucy, and you take care. I’ll send you both a bit of cake.’
‘You do that—and have a really great day. Love you, kiddo.’
‘Love you too, big bro.’
She lowered the phone to her lap and looked up at Ben, her heart heavy. ‘He can’t come. He’s got a son—Freddie. He’s only just found out, and he’s having problems with him and can’t leave him. There won’t be anybody in my family there, Ben. Not one.’
‘Oh, darling…’
He gathered her into his arms and cradled her close, his heart breaking for her. And then the baby kicked him, and he lifted his head and smiled down at her. ‘That’s not true. I’ll be there, and so will the baby. I don’t know if it’s enough, but we’re your family, too, and we’ll be there. So you won’t be alone.’
Her hands slid down and cradled the baby, and a tear slipped down her cheek, catching on her lip as she smiled. ‘No. I won’t. You’re right. And you’re all I need—all I’ll ever need.’
Kate knocked briefly on Nick’s consulting-room door and walked in.
He was standing at the window, his jaw set, arms folded, and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
‘Nick?’
‘I’m not going.’
‘Why?’
He turned, letting out his breath in an explosive sigh. ‘You know why.’
She couldn’t let him do this. She couldn’t let him miss his own daughter’s wedding because when he came to his senses it would be another layer of guilt to add to the countless others.
‘You have to go. This isn’t about you, it’s about Lucy, and it’s about her mother.’
‘Her dead mother.’
‘Exactly. Her mother who can’t be there for her. Her mother who can’t sit just over her left shoulder, sniffing into a handkerchief and being ridiculously proud of her. Lucy’s not asking you to give her away, and neither am I. Mike Trevellyan’s doing it. She just wants you there, in the congregation, so she’s not the only one there from the Tremayne family.’
‘He let her die.’
‘No. No, he didn’t, Nick. He did everything he could, and he was gutted that she died. And he loves Lucy to bits. He’ll be a good husband and father. He’ll make her happy—which is more than you’re doing at the moment. So—are you coming, or not?’
For a moment she thought he’d say no, but then he snatched his coat off the back of the door, shrugged into it and yanked the door open. ‘Well, come on, then, we don’t want to be late.’
Nick couldn’t believe he was doing it.
Going to Lucy’s wedding, in the church where his father and brother and Annabel had all been laid to rest.
He nearly turned round and drove back, but Kate wouldn’t have let him and, anyway, she was right. He had to be there, for Lucy’s mother.
The church car park was full, to his surprise, and he had to go to the Smugglers’ Inn. It was only a few yards further, but as they hurried back, he saw Lucy arriving in Mike Trevellyan’s wonderful old car. It was done up with ribbons, and it was gleaming, and as Mike helped her out, Nick’s footsteps faltered.
He should be doing that. Giving her away. Not some man who was almost a stranger.
He broke into a run, Kate after him, and they reached the church just as the music started and she was walking down the aisle.
‘Here,’ Kate said, tucking a flower into his buttonhole, and she gave him a little shove.
The vicar was there in his ceremonial robes, Ben standing ramrod straight in front of him, and when he turned to look at Lucy, his eyes met Nick’s and held. Then he looked down into Lucy’s face and smiled.
‘He’s here,’ Ben said.
‘Who?’
‘Your father.’
She turned, searching the crowd, but then she saw him, hesitating at the back of the church, as if he was unsure of his welcome. He smiled at her, a sad, twisted smile, and she held out her hand, but he didn’t move.
For an endless moment everyone held their breath, and then she gave up, and turned back to the vicar. Ben’s hand caught hers and tightened on it, giving her support, and she clung to him.
Her father was here. He’d said he wouldn’t come, but he was here. Mike was hovering beside her, unsure what to do, but she smiled at the vicar and nodded, and he smiled back.
‘Dearly beloved,’ he began, and Lucy listened and tried to concentrate, but then, when Mr Kenner said, ‘Who gives this woman to be married to this man?’ there was a ripple through the congregation, and her father’s voice rang out.
‘I do,’ he said, and reaching her side he took her right hand, kissed her cheek and said softly, ‘I’m sorry,’ and placed her hand in Ben’s.
CHAPTER TEN
BEN wasn’t sure he could believe it.
After all the agonising and trauma of the past two weeks, he’d come, in the end, and given his daughter away.
And his eyes, as he’d placed her hand in Ben’s, had held a challenge that should probably have struck fear into Ben’s heart.
It didn’t, because it was a challenge he had every intention of meeting. He was going to make Lucy happy if it took his last breath, and he didn’t need Nick Tremayne to challenge him to do it.
And Lucy was happy.
Her face shone, her eyes were bright, and she’d never looked more beautiful. And when she paused outside the church and walked over to her mother’s grave and laid a single white rose from her bouquet in front of the simple headstone, her eyes sparkled with tears, and he was sure his did, too.
He didn’t know about Nick. He wasn’t looking at him, he had eyes only for Lucy, and as they made their way to the Smugglers’ Inn, it seemed as if the whole of Penhally had turned out to shower them with good wishes.
Ben chuckled to himself. They might be the most phenomenal load of old busybodies, but they were there because they loved Lucy, and he couldn’t blame them for that.
He recognised several of the faces in the crowd
gathered on the clifftop—Toby Penhaligan, the fisherman with the broken arm, Bea Trevallyn from the guesthouse with the salmonella outbreak, fortunately contained to just the five identified, and others such as Mrs Lunney, with her new husband Henry, who’d come all the way from Wadebridge just to cheer them as they came out of the church.
It was touching, and as they walked away, Lucy tucked her hand tighter into the crook of his arm and smiled up at him.
‘He came.’
‘I know.’ But he was worried, and he said softly, ‘Lucy, don’t expect too much. One step at a time.’
She nodded. ‘I know. Early days. But one step, today, is enough for me.’
The pub was packed.
They’d booked a room for up to twenty-five, and it should have been enough, but so many people had come to wish them well, and her father asked the landlord to give them all a drink in celebration.
‘Ouch. That’ll cost him,’ she said with a smile, and Ben chuckled.
‘I don’t think he’ll mind. Come on, we need to stand here and greet everyone.’
As a reception line, it was a strange affair, oddly formal in the rather informal and yet curiously fitting surroundings of the pub.
Her father, Ben’s parents—lovely, lovely people who’d been so sweet to her in the last two weeks—his brother, Rob, just like him in many ways, his sister-in-law, Polly, who she was looking forward to getting to know much, much better, and hovering in the background organising, as ever, was Kate.
Dear Kate, who must have talked her father into coming, because without her Lucy was sure he wouldn’t have come.
She greeted her with a heartfelt hug and a whispered, ‘Thanks.’
Kate smiled back and mouthed, ‘Any time,’ and then moved on down the line, followed by all the others.
Caroline Anderson, Sara Morgan, Josie Metcalfe, Jennifer Taylor Page 14
