Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride / Christmas At Rivercut Manor

by Joanna Neil / Gill Sanderson

  ‘Did she appear weaker? Slurred speech?’

  Grace made a helpless gesture. ‘A bit more frail. I just…’

  ‘You’re wondering whether they were transient ischaemic attacks? Grace, it’s not the end of the world if they were.’

  Grace nodded, but still felt worried. A TIA happened when a small piece of fatty material came away from the wall of an artery, was transported to the brain and caused a temporary blockage. They were often the result of high blood pressure and they tended to grow more frequent with age. Recovery was usually quite quick. The danger was that in time the underlying cause might lead to a stroke.

  ‘I’d still appreciate you doing a proper examination.’

  ‘Then I will. Do you want to call in after we’ve seen the solicitor?’

  Grace glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Will you have time before collecting Bethany from school?’

  ‘She’s going to a friend’s house for tea. I’ve been instructed to pick her up at six o’clock.’

  ‘Then, yes, please. Can you give me twenty minutes to get these notes finished?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll go and read up properly on Mrs King.’

  It was all quite straightforward at the solicitor’s office. Grace signed and was witnessed, signed again and was witnessed again. In a tone decrying his bad taste for mentioning it, the solicitor murmured that Mike’s deposit would go straight into Grace’s bank account. Grace said cheerfully that her bank manager would probably go out and get quietly drunk.

  That almost brought a smile to Mike’s lips, and when he was examining Mrs King he seemed normal too, if slightly withdrawn. But after he had suggested gently to Ivy that he arrange a trip to hospital for her for further tests, and they consulted a calendar to fix on the best time, Grace saw a shutter come over his face. Instinctively she took over the conversation, chatting in a friendly way as they moved to the door.

  ‘So,’ she finished, ‘you’re not to worry, Ivy. We just want to be on the safe side.’

  ‘All right, young Grace,’ said Ivy King. ‘As long as the tests don’t interfere with my Christmas, I’ll go quietly. Run along now. Dr Curtis will be wanting to pick up his little girl. Bonny little thing she is, by what people say. Oh, and we’re all pleased as punch that you’re taking over the manor, Doctor. And there’s not one of us believe the gossip neither.’

  ‘Gossip?’ said Mike when they were eventually in his car again. ‘Which gossip would that be?’

  Grace felt her cheeks heat. ‘Nothing that matters.’

  He looked at her as if he didn’t believe her.

  ‘Drive,’ she said. ‘You can tell me something soothing about how much you’re having to pay to refurbish the central heating as we go. I saw the plumber’s van turn up this morning as I was leaving for work. I can’t believe you’ve found a system that will actually keep the main hall warm in winter.’

  He gave her another of those piercing looks, but talked amiably enough until they came to a halt behind a line of traffic.

  Grace peered ahead. It was obvious what had happened. A wedge of snow had slid suddenly down onto the road, causing a car to veer off. It didn’t look as if anyone was hurt, but the road was blocked by the recovery lorry. Grace was used to this sort of scenario. She got Mrs King’s case notes out of her case to annotate them. Mike, however, sat tensely, his eyes on the lorry, tapping the steering-wheel and casting harried glances at the dashboard clock.

  ‘Why did this have to happen today?’ he muttered. ‘If I knew the roads around here I could take a back route home.’

  Grace looked up. ‘Mike, I know the roads and there aren’t any back routes. Who is Bethany having tea with? Give her mother a ring. She’ll understand. Or ask James to collect her if you’re really worried about her outstaying her welcome.’

  ‘I can’t. He’s going out for the whole evening.’

  ‘Then ring,’ she advised placidly. ‘It’ll be fine. We’re used to unexpected snow-dumps in this part of the country during the winter.’

  Bethany, predictably, was not in the least alarmed at Mike turning up late. She’d had a lovely time and was delighted to see Grace in the car too. But back at the surgery she set up a wail when she realised Grace was unlocking her Land Rover instead of coming indoors.

  ‘I want Grace to stay!’

  ‘Grace has things to do. It’s nearly Christmas and she has to—’

  ‘But I want to show her the bath toys Grandad gave me!’ Tears started to roll down Bethany’s cheeks.

  Mike glanced at Grace, who nodded her head. ‘All right, Bethany, just this once because it’s nearly Christmas. But then you go straight to bed and be good!’

  ‘All right,’ said Bethany, demure now she had got her own way.

  In fact, she was very tired after the excitement of playing with her friend. Bathtime was soon over and teeth cleaned. Grace offered to read a story, but the little girl was asleep before she reached the end of the first page. Grace looked down at her, wondering if this was how Sarah had looked in sleep. She withdrew quietly to the living room.

  Mike was sitting staring into the fire, legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on his hand. Grace saw his expression before he realised she was there. He looked sad, something she hadn’t seen before. She wondered what he was thinking.

  ‘Bethany’s worn out,’ she reported. ‘It must be terribly tiring being a sociable five-year-old.’

  He stirred. ‘Thanks for putting her to bed. I don’t usually pander to her but…’ He broke off. ‘Are you hungry at all? I was thinking of warming up some soup. And maybe a glass of wine?’

  Grace remembered the last glass of wine they’d drunk together. She smiled—about to make an allusive remark—but realised with a slight shock and just a tiny touch of pique that sex wasn’t on Mike’s mind at all. But something was. Something that had brought a grey look to his face and defeat to his voice. ‘That would be nice,’ she said neutrally. ‘Shall I help? Where is it all?’

  He started to get up—almost had to drag himself. ‘Sorry, I’m not being much of a host.’

  Then Grace remembered something he had said earlier. It’s always good to have a friend. ‘Mike, tell me if I’m wrong, but is now one of those times when you’d like a friend?’ she asked.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘There’s something troubling you, it’s obvious. And earlier you said that it was always good to have a friend. Well, I’m here and I’m a friend. What’s the problem?’

  He laughed shortly. ‘Ten out of ten for observation skills. Yes, there is something bothering me, but it’s not a problem. It’s an anniversary.’

  ‘Anniversary? Of what?’

  Another silence, and then he said, ‘I’ve been trying to forget it all day. Today my wife would have been thirty. But there’ll be no party.’

  ‘And it hurts.’

  ‘It hurts. Last year her birthday was sheer agony, coming so soon after…after the accident. I thought this year it might be easier. And I suppose it is. A bit.’ He frowned. ‘Grace, this isn’t the kind of thing I should be talking to you about. We’ve got very close and—’

  ‘Mike, I want you to talk! You loved her, and I…I think that’s great. So tell me about her, tell me about her birthdays.’

  He laughed, and this time Grace thought there might be some genuine humour. ‘I can take them or leave them but Sarah was like Bethany. She was so serious and intent for most of the time, but she loved birthdays and birthday parties. We always went to a bit of trouble for her. Two years ago I took her and Bethany on the London Eye at night. As it went round we had a picnic out of the rucksack I’d packed. Then I told her to close her eyes, and Bethany and I gave her her birthday cake.’

  ‘A birthday cake? In a rucksack?’

  Mike almost smiled. ‘Two birthday cakes. Two little iced cakes, one with two candles on, one with eight. Because she was twenty-eight.’

  ‘That sounds magic.’ Grace couldn’t help herself. She took his hand
. ‘Tell me what Sarah was like,’ she said. ‘It might be painful but it might help. I think it’s wrong to try to forget, it’s better to remember—to remember the good times, remember how much they outweighed the bad. Describe her to me.’

  For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but then he took a deep breath. ‘She was a very slim woman, athletic but not as tall as you. She had a young face, sort of pointed—elfin some people called it. Dark hair, wavy like Bethany’s. She had big dark eyes, dark green, and a piercing look. Sometimes she’d stay silent and just look at you so you wanted desperately to say something to her.’

  ‘And she was a doctor, like you.’

  ‘Yes. She never believed that some problems are insoluble, are beyond a doctor’s abilities. She got involved when she shouldn’t and when she failed it hurt her.’

  ‘That’s a good fault, don’t you think? Better than the opposite.’

  ‘True. You remind me of her that way sometimes.’

  Grace felt like crying. ‘Thank you, that’s a lovely thing to say. I can see why you miss her.’

  ‘I do. Sometimes I think I always will.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘And sometimes I resent that. How can that be? How can I resent Sarah? I loved her. I loved her so much.’

  Grace watched, alarmed now, as he crouched forward, his hands gripped together. ‘Grief doesn’t follow normal rules, Mike. Love alters us. Maybe…maybe our bodies can’t cope immediately. Maybe when the one we love has gone, our bodies try to snap back to how they were before. But they can’t. I think…I think the thing to do is to move on, but remember the past.’

  ‘Easier said than done. Do you still want some soup?’

  She followed him into the kitchen where he took a large bowl of home-made chowder out of the fridge and ladled it into a saucepan. There were crusty rolls to go with it, and half a bottle of red wine. He brushed against her as he reached for his glass. His wedding ring knocked her knuckle. Mike studied his hand for a long moment before carrying the food through to the other room.

  This time the conversation was easier. They talked about some tiny changes Mike wanted to make to the practice, but wasn’t sure whether his father would agree with. By the end of the simple meal, Grace thought Mike was probably all right again. She was glad she’d been here—as a friend—when he’d hit that low point.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave the car here and walk. Don’t want to risk running over any stray carol singers when I’ve had a drink.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Mike sat upright, his voice strained. Grace realised she had been premature in thinking him over his earlier emotion.

  He spread his hands out, looked at the left one. ‘I remember the time in church, getting married, when we exchanged rings. For me it was the happiest moment of the ceremony. They didn’t match, our rings. I gave Sarah one I’d had specially made—in white gold. She didn’t have much money of her own, so she gave me her grandmother’s ring, enlarged to fit my finger. That’s why it’s so narrow. She joked that when she was a world-famous consultant she’d have a broader one made for me. I said I didn’t want one. I just wanted this one, given to me with love.’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ whispered Grace, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Sarah’s ring was ruined in the fire in the crash. This one…’ He pulled at the narrow band on the third finger of his left hand.

  Grace couldn’t help herself. ‘No, don’t! It’s a symbol, it reminds you that—’

  ‘I need to look forward,’ he said fiercely. He tugged the ring off his finger at last, kissed it then put it on the table. ‘I shan’t wear it again.’

  This was wrong. This was so wrong. There were tears in his eyes and Grace couldn’t bear it. She gave it a moment then asked, ‘So do you feel different now? More comfortable? A new person?’

  ‘No.’ There was a world of pain in his answer.

  Grace picked up the ring from the table, lifted Mike’s hand from where it lay desolately in his lap and slipped Sarah’s wedding band back onto his finger. ‘You loved her, she loved you and she’ll always be part of you. Don’t fight it, Mike. Accept it. Go forward with her behind you, urging you on.’

  She stood up. He stood too, slightly dazed, at a loss. Grace put her arms round him and hugged him tightly. ‘You’ll be all right,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘But if you need a friend, phone me.’

  It took a great, great effort of will to shrug into her coat and leave the house. But she had to. Because otherwise she might have said those fatal words, words Mike wasn’t anywhere near ready to hear. She said them outside, though. Closed the door firmly behind her and then looked back at the solid wood panel.

  ‘Sleep well, Mike,’ she whispered. ‘I love you.’

  Chapter Ten

  THERE was another snowfall that night but in the morning the sun was out and the light on the white moors was beautiful. No one could be unhappy on a day like this, thought Grace as she drove out of Rivercut and the full beauty of the landscape hit her. She had a brief moment of regret for her old bedroom at the manor—she’d have seen this view as soon as she pulled her curtains.

  No. She set her thoughts resolutely towards lively, bustling Manchester and the day of Christmas shopping awaiting her. The manor belonged to Mike now. The view would most likely be Bethany’s. She must be content with her small cottage and rejoice in the simple fact that she could now afford to pay the rent and have money left over for more than just the basics of life.

  Mike. All the curtains had been drawn still when she’d picked up her car. She hoped he’d got some sleep last night, not stayed up wrestling with his memories. She hadn’t had a phone call. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  In Manchester she met up with Natalie, who needed a posh outfit for a charity do on New Year’s Eve. With a pleasurable thrill, Grace realised that she would not be restricted to merely admiring her friend—she could dress up too!

  An entire morning later, Natalie was the possessor of a strapless number in dark red satin—and Grace had blown an awful lot of salary on a full-length gold taffeta gown with diamanté spaghetti straps and a seductive slit from thigh to ankle. She didn’t give a thought to when she would actually wear such a dress. Whenever the occasion arose, she’d be ready! On the way out of the store they stopped in the children’s clothes department. Grace was charmed to see full-length party dresses for little girls. ‘I’ll get one for Bethany,’ she said aloud.

  ‘Pardon?’ asked her friend.

  ‘Bethany Curtis. Mike’s daughter. I told them how I used to walk down the staircase at home holding a long skirt above my ankles just like a film star. Bethany would love to do that. And I know she doesn’t have any long dresses. This can be her Christmas present.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Natalie. ‘I’ll buy one for Chloe too. How old did you say Bethany was?’ And she continued to ask casual questions about Bethany and Mike as they looked through the racks.

  It was when they were having lunch at a chic city restaurant that Grace felt a tap on her shoulder. ‘Grace Fellowes! Haven’t seen you for ages! And Natalie Wright too. What a sight for sore eyes.’

  Grace swung round. It was Dr Robert Ross, a friend that she and Natalie had worked with some years before. He now held a senior position in a hospital in Manchester. And it seemed he was looking for staff. He joined them for coffee and told them about it.

  ‘Half the time teaching—sharing your practical knowledge—the rest of the time proper hands-on nursing. Think about it, Grace. You’ve been a rural nurse for quite long enough. It’s time your talents were recognised. There’s more money in it.’

  More money. Three weeks ago, those two words would have made Grace seriously consider the proposition. Now she laughed. ‘Thanks, Robert, but inner-city nursing—even hospital nursing with all the up-to-date equipment—it’s just not for me.’

  ‘But you’re wasting away out there in the sticks! Look around you—don’t you deserve this?’

  �
�Right here, right now, it’s tempting. As soon as I get home I’ll wonder what you spiked my coffee with.’

  The afternoon was spent in more shopping. There were several people in the village Grace needed to get small presents for, but all the time she was conscious she hadn’t bought anything for Mike. But what? What did you get for the man who was buying your house—a house that needed a considerable amount of work doing to it—at a far too reasonable price? What did you get for the man who had been your lover for a few glorious hours one magical evening?

  ‘Penny for them?’ said Natalie. She had the air of having said it before.

  ‘Oh, sorry. I was trying to remember what else I wanted.’

  Natalie looked smug. ‘I just need the antiquarian bookshop. Perhaps you’ll be struck by inspiration there.’

  And perhaps not. She didn’t even know what Mike liked to read.

  At the shop, Natalie plunged into discussion with the bookseller to whom she had already emailed her husband’s wish list. Grace riffled idly through a stack of framed maps and prints—and stopped, amazed. There was an old handcoloured map of Rivercut Village and the farms around it! She knew instantly that it would be the perfect present for Mike. It was the whole area the practice covered. It even had the manor inscribed in the centre! She blinked a bit at the price but the shopkeeper, in a fit of generosity brought on by Natalie’s lavish squandering of her husband’s money, reduced the amount by a third.

  ‘That’s lovely,’ said Natalie. ‘Where are you going to hang it?’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Grace absently. ‘It’s for Mike.’

  Natalie pounced. ‘Aha! I knew it! When do we get to meet him? Remember, you always promised I could be your matron of honour!’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  But the trouble with friends who knew you rather well was that they didn’t believe the ‘just good friends’ line for a minute. ‘Grace, you’ve been talking about him all day.’