by Anne Fraser
‘A small glass of Chardonnay would be lovely—or some other dry white. I brought some, but stick it in the fridge if there’s one open already.’
As he was pouring the wine, Caroline sauntered into the room, wearing jeans that had seen better days and a T-shirt with the name of some group Julie had only vaguely heard off emblazoned on the front.
‘Hi, Julie,’ she said, with a sly smirk at her uncle.
‘I thought you were going upstairs to change?’ Pierre said disapprovingly.
‘I have changed,’ Caroline responded brightly, but under neath the words Julie could detect the tension between the young girl and her uncle.
‘I see you’re drinking wine from my father’s vineyard?’ Caroline said, perching herself on a barstool beside the counter and, under the frowning gaze of Pierre, pouring herself a large measure. ‘It’s yummy, isn’t it?’
Julie nodded. It was delicious. ‘Wow! I had no idea your family owned a vineyard,’ Julie said. ‘I wouldn’t have dreamt of bringing wine if I had known…’
‘It was very kind of you,’ Pierre said. ‘But it’s like bringing bricks to Newcastle—’
‘Coals to Newcastle,’ his niece scoffed, missing the wink that Pierre threw Julie. Then Caroline dropped her head. But not before Julie had seen the sadness in her eyes.
‘The wine you’re drinking was one of Dad’s favourites,’ Caroline said, a small catch in her voice.
‘Then I feel honoured to be drinking some,’ Julie said.
‘Oh, yes,’ Caroline snapped, narrowing her eyes. ‘My family is very rich. Pierre included. Didn’t you know?’
‘Your uncle and I hardly know each other, Caroline. Certainly not well enough for him to discuss his finances,’ Julie said, trying to keep her voice light.
‘Most women seem to know exactly how rich Uncle Pierre is, don’t they, Uncle?’ Caroline said—almost spitefully, Julie thought. ‘There’s certainly enough of them hanging about.’
‘Well, I’m not most women,’ Julie responded with a smile, refusing to let the younger woman rattle her. So Pierre was seeing someone. More than one woman, if Caroline was to be believed. Julie found herself inexplicably disappointed. Not that she wanted anything to do with him as a man, but over the last couple of days she had come to respect him as a doctor and wanted to believe he was more than a man who toyed with people’s feelings.
‘Dr McKenzie—Julie—is a champion skier.’ Pierre had moved on to what he clearly hoped was safer ground, but not before Julie had seen a shadow pass across his features.
‘Ex-champion skier,’ Julie corrected mildly.
Just when Julie was beginning to hope that Caroline’s baiting of her uncle was temporarily over, the young woman turned to her uncle. ‘A champion skier and a doctor, Uncle Pierre! How do you do it?’
‘Caroline,’ Julie said mildly.
At the gentle remonstration in Julie’s voice Pierre’s niece visibly shrank and she had the grace to look more than a little shamefaced.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a pain.’ Caroline took a breath. ‘Please, accept my apologies. I’m really glad you were able to come tonight. I know you probably had stuff you’d rather be doing.’ She turned back to her uncle. ‘Julie told me she hurt her face in a skiing accident. What a bummer.’ The tension drained from her face and she looked genuinely interested. ‘I didn’t know you were really good, though. Why did you give it up?’ She threw another disdainful look her uncle’s way. ‘Anybody can be a doctor, but not every one can be a great skier.’
Julie took a gulp of her wine. It still pained her to talk about the accident that had ended her career. Pierre was also looking at her keenly. With similar expressions on their faces the family resemblance was obvious.
‘Maybe Julie doesn’t like to talk about it,’ Pierre said astutely after a moment’s silence. ‘Shall we talk about something else? Why don’t you both sit at the table and I’ll serve up the first course? I hope you like mussels, Julie?’
‘I love them,’ Julie said, relieved that the conversation was back on safer ground. ‘I know a great fishmonger on the east side of the city. He always has the freshest supply of shellfish.’
As tucked into their starter, Julie and Pierre talked a little about where the best food in the city was to be found. It seemed they both shared a passion for cooking.
Catching Caroline looking into the distance, Julie realised they had been leaving the girl out of the conversation.
‘What sports do you like, Caroline?’ she asked.
‘Hockey. I’m in the first team. I like skiing, too, but I’m not very good at it,’ she admitted. ‘My skis always seem to want to go in different directions. I spend most of the time on my backside. Kind of humiliating.’
‘I could take you, if you like,’ Julie offered impulsively. There was a wistfulness in the girl’s expression, a look of wariness and sadness that drew Julie. She would love to see her smile. Forget her sadness even for a short while.
‘I would like that,’ Caroline said slowly. ‘But I don’t think Uncle Pierre would let me. I’m sitting my finals in a month or two, and he thinks I should be spending all my free time studying.’
Pierre stood up to clear the dishes. ‘I’m sure a day off would do no harm,’ he said. ‘If Julie is prepared to take you.’ He turned to face Julie. ‘But, please, don’t feel you are under any obligation.’
‘As a matter of fact I was just thinking it was perfect weather for skiing this weekend, and there might not be many more opportunities before spring.’ Julie said. ‘I go whenever I get the chance—which isn’t very often. And I’d love to have some company. None of my friends ski.’
‘Then I’d really like that,’ Caroline said, her eyes shining. Once again Julie was struck at the way the smile seemed to light up her face, changing her from a sullen teenager to the beautiful woman Julie predicted she was destined to become.
‘You could come, too,’ Caroline added, looking at her uncle. Although she said the words lightly, Julie could see that her uncle’s response was important. But Pierre, busy dishing up a pan of rich-smelling stew, missed the look.
‘I would like to, but I have made other arrangements for this weekend,’ he said. ‘Another time perhaps? But you go with Julie. Have fun.’
The light went out of Caroline’s eyes. Despite her overt hostility to Pierre, Julie sensed she was hurt by his response. Losing her parents like that, and so recently, the girl was obviously in need of more emotional support than her uncle was providing. Why was it, Julie thought, that some men were so frightened of emotion and emotional involvement? And it seemed that Pierre fell squarely into this category.
‘I was planning to go on Friday night. Would that suit you, Caroline? It’ll be fun to have you for company,’ Julie said. ‘I know this cosy place to stay close to the slopes. We could ski all day on Saturday and Sunday morning and drive back on Sunday evening. How about it?’
Caroline still looked hurt. She pushed herself away from the table.
‘If you like,’ she said flatly. ‘It seems Uncle Pierre has more important things to do with his time. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough to eat. I’ll go upstairs and leave you two adults—alone.’
Pierre looked after her retreating back, clearly bemused. He raised his eyebrows at Julie who had to hide a smile at his look of astonishment.
‘Merde,’ he said. ‘What is it with women? I thought she’d be pleased to get away from me for a time.’
Julie was taken aback. Okay, he was a man, but even he couldn’t be so thick-skinned he didn’t recognise need when he saw it.
‘I think she wants to spend more time with you. But she’s a teenager. They don’t want people to know when they are feeling needy. She has just recently lost both her parents.’
‘Do you think she really wants me to come?’ he said slowly. ‘With most women, it is easy to know what they want. But my niece?’ he sighed. ‘Sometimes I just don’t know how to be with her.’ He p
ulled his hand through his hair. ‘I owe it to her parents to help their daughter, but sometimes I don’t even know how to help myself.’ The last words were said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. But there was no mistaking the naked pain in his voice. Julie resisted an instinctive impulse to reach out to offer comfort, but she guessed this man wouldn’t want pity. Not from her, at any rate.
‘I think it’s time for me to leave,’ she said instead, pushing away from the table. ‘I have a busy day tomorrow and a very demanding boss.’ She smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. The truth was that with Caroline’s departure she was suddenly aware of being alone with Pierre. Every fibre of her being seemed to react to his presence. It was mortifying the way she was responding to this man. Physically, that was. There was very little she found appealing about his personality. It was obvious to Julie he was too used to getting his own way. Too used to putting his own needs first. Suddenly she felt a wave of exasperation wash over her.
‘That girl needs you. She needs someone, not a stranger, to spend time with her. Can’t you see how badly she is hurting?’
Pierre looked even more bemused. Bewildered and a little shocked at Julie’s outburst. But no more shocked than Julie herself. How could she have forgotten? The man was her boss after all. If he wanted to, he could have her put off his team. There would be plenty of other juniors only too ready to take her place.
‘I’m sorry,’ Julie mumbled. ‘That was rude of me and I had no right to say what I did. Now, I really should be going.’
Pierre crossed the room. For a moment he stared down at her, searching her face with silver eyes.
‘It is me who should be apologising,’ he said. ‘You are right, and I am an idiot.’ He placed a hand on Julie’s shoulder and she felt a flash of heat at his touch. ‘Forgive me?’
Julie felt herself sway as her knees went weak. ‘It’s not me whose forgiveness you should be asking,’ she said. ‘It’s that girl up there.’ She softened at the look on his face. ‘Go and talk to her,’ she prompted. ‘Make her realise that she is important to you. That you care about her.’
‘You will still take her skiing?’ he asked. Despite the look of entreaty on his face, Julie told herself it was Caroline that influenced her decision.
‘Yes, if she still wants to. Of course.’
‘And I, I will ask Katherine and perhaps we will come, too?’ He looked pleased at his inspired piece of logic.
So that was it, Julie thought, furious with the way her heart plummeted. The arrangements he had made were with another woman. Well, why not? She couldn’t see a man like Pierre not having a girlfriend in tow. It was what she’d suspected all along. He was handsome, successful and rich. He was bound to have his pick of women.
‘I think, if you are going to come along, you should leave your girlfriend behind,’ she said softly. Then she blushed. What if he thought that she wanted him all to herself? Well, she would soon disabuse him of that notion. ‘Caroline needs you to spend time with her away from other distractions,’ she added pointedly, remembering his comment the day she had first met him.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Touché,’ he said. ‘I can’t see Katherine wanting to spend the day in the freezing cold anyway. She is a woman who likes her comforts.’
Although Julie had never met this Katherine and was unlikely to do so, she suspected she would hate her on sight.
‘Now that is settled,’ he continued. ‘Let’s finish dinner and then we can talk about work.’
Julie could tell he was determined she eat the stew he had dished up. And furthermore she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to talk over the coming week’s cases with him. At least they’d be on safe territory. She relaxed and dipped her bread into the bowl of stew.
‘Tell me, why plastic surgery?’ she asked. ‘And what about that technique you’re teaching us at the hospital? What is so special about it?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE next couple of days flew past. Julie found plastic surgery fascinating. Every day there was something new to learn and she found she had little time for anything except work and reading up on the following day’s cases. The more she saw of the way Pierre operated the more impressed she became with his surgical skills.
Most days Pierre’s team barely stopped for coffee, let alone lunch, but Julie didn’t mind. She was working at a job she loved, with a man who, professionally at least, she admired increasingly.
With the weekend looming and no confirmation from either Caroline or her uncle about the trip to the Cairngorms, Julie wondered if she should give the teenager a call. She didn’t want to ask Pierre in case it put him on the spot. She was mulling over the dilemma when he unexpectedly plonked himself down at her table in the canteen where she was having a solitary lunch.
‘I hear the snow up north is perfect for skiing,’ he said, wrapping some pasta around his fork. ‘So does that mean you are still going and Caroline and I are still invited? I’ll understand if you want to go alone, have quiet time—it’s been crazy here—non?’
Julie’s heart thudded treacherously. Outside Theatre or the wards, she felt awkward in Pierre’s presence. If she hadn’t promised Caroline, she would have found a way to call the whole thing off.
‘I checked with the bed-and-breakfast place I normally use,’ she said slowly. ‘They do have a couple of rooms available this weekend. Caroline and I could share. But wouldn’t you prefer to stay in a hotel?’
‘Why? Is there something about this place you are not telling me?’
‘I just thought you’d prefer something a little more luxurious,’ Julie said. ‘I love this place, but it’s cosy rather than fancy.’
Pierre raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘And you think I wouldn’t like it. Why?’
‘I—I don’t know. It’s just…’ Julie stammered. ‘You strike me as the kind of man who usually stays in five-star hotels rather than small bed and breakfasts.’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘You know all about me, then?’ Julie wasn’t sure—was he teasing her?
‘No, of course I don’t know anything about you except you are a great surgeon.’ She blushed. She hadn’t meant to say that. It had just slipped out. Now she sounded like some star-struck teenager.
‘I am delighted you approve of my surgical skills,’ he said. ‘But I can assure you I am happy to stay anywhere. I draw the line at camping, but only because it’s snowing—and I’m sure Caroline won’t go anywhere she won’t be able to use her hair gadgets and all that other stuff you women seem to need to get ready in the morning.’
‘I don’t need stuff like that!’ Julie protested, before catching sight of his grin and realising that he really was teasing her. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘I know more than one man who spends just as much time in the bathroom as some women.’
‘Really and who are these men? Boyfriends?’
‘No,’ Julie said, more sharply than she’d intended. She changed the subject. ‘If you’re happy with my choice of accommodation then I’ll confirm it later today when I get a chance. We should plan to leave as soon as possible after work on Friday.’
Pierre stood, stretching his lean frame. ‘D’accord. It is settled. We’ll pick you up at your flat. In the meantime, we need to get down to Theatre. Our first patient should be about to arrive.’
Julie stood, too. ‘The breast reconstruction following a double mastectomy?’ she said. ‘Mrs Simpson?’ She almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. ‘Her husband is more scared about the operation than she is,’ she said. ‘I really hope everything goes well for them.’ Pierre stopped so suddenly Julie almost collided with him.
‘Don’t you know by now, Dr McKenzie? Everything I do goes well.’
Julie almost spluttered at his arrogance. But, then again, who would she rather have operating on her? A man who doubted his skills or the man in front of her who seemed to have no doubts at all—about anything?
Before leavin
g work on Friday, Julie went to check up on Tom. As usual, she found Trudi sitting beside his bed. She looked up from the book she was reading to Tom when she spotted Julie.
‘Look, Tom, it’s our favourite doctor come to see you.’ Although the tube had been removed from Tom’s throat a few days before, he still couldn’t speak. It would be another few days before he would be able to. However, he smiled to let Julie know he was pleased to see her.
‘How are you doing, guys?’ Julie said, picking up a magazine from the top of the bedcover. ‘Hey, what’s this? The Bride?’
‘We’re getting married,’ Trudi said, her eyes shining. ‘We had always planned to eventually. But now it seems crazy to wait. We’re planning for June—do you think that will be enough time for Tom to be fit? And we want you and Dr Favatier to be our guests of honour.’
Julie felt her throat constrict. Trudi and Tom were both so brave. They obviously loved each other deeply. She looked away, blinking back tears. Seeing Trudi brought back memories of Luke. Her parents had told her that he had spent the first few days after the accident refusing to leave her bedside, although she had no memory of it. By the time she’d come round, a couple of weeks later, he had no longer been there. At first her parents had told her that he’d had to leave to compete in a downhill race in Europe. Later, when she’d been stronger, they’d admitted that his visits had simply tailed off, until one day he hadn’t come back. When she’d realised Luke had gone for good, she had sobbed her heart out. But then, once she had cried herself out, she had promised herself she would never again allow a man to make her shed a single tear. She had heard that Luke had carried on skiing, winning a bronze in the Commonwealth Games, and had become engaged to another girl in the British team shortly afterwards. She had thought it would hurt, but it hadn’t. And, true to her promise to herself, she had never let another man get close to her. These days she had her work, and it meant everything to her. She didn’t need a man to make her feel complete.
