‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go to supper with you anyway.’
If anything the second half of the concert was better than the first. There were three encores before the audience would finally leave. But eventually they all spilled out of the concert hall, and Ross and Lyn walked along the Embankment. The evening was still warm.
‘I like the lights on the darkness of the river,’ Ross said. ‘It makes me think of travelling to foreign cities. Romantic places. All rivers do that, I suppose.’
‘If you’d already met my parents,’ she told him, ‘they’d agree with you at once. They’d say you have itchy feet like they have.’
‘Ah. Itchy feet. Do you have itchy feet, Lyn?’
‘No,’ she told him firmly. ‘And if they do itch, they itch to be in a pair of slippers and by my own fire.’
‘I see. I’ve got an itchy hand at the moment. It wants to hold yours.’
She reached her hand out to him. ‘Everyone needs a little comfort sometimes,’ she told him. ‘I learned that.’
The restaurant was over a riverside pub. He told her he had booked in advance but said that he might have to cancel. ‘It looks very nice,’ she said, glancing up at the magnificent Victorian brick decorations, ‘but I’m afraid I’m not tremendously hungry.’
‘Neither am I. We’re not going to have a full-sized meal, just an after-concert supper with a bottle of wine. We can leave the choice to Luke if you like.’
He led her into the building. Downstairs the bars were heaving, but upstairs, where the restaurant was, was much quieter. They were met by a maitre d’hotel, who greeted Ross by name.
‘This is Lyn Webster, Luke—she’s Jack and Jo Webster’s daughter.’
Luke, a fit, burly man in his early forties who didn’t seem at all like a typical hotelier, looked at her with interest.’
‘Very pleased to meet you, Miss Webster. If your parents would care to come to dinner one evening, I could assure them a good meal.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll be sure to tell them.’
They were led to a table that overlooked the river and, looking round, she decided it was the best in the house. ‘Do you always get service like this?’ she whispered to Ross.
‘Only from Luke. I met him some years ago in Thailand. He claimed he was researching Thai cooking but he didn’t see much cooking when he was with me. We decided to go up country together, and it was an… experience.’
‘I might have guessed,’ she said.
‘As I said before, if you like, we can leave the choice of menu to him. But what kind of wine would you like? Should we have champagne?’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to be rather unfeminine. I like red wine—strong, with lots of oak. Spanish rather than French.’
‘Luke’s going to approve of you,’ he said with a grin. ‘A Rioja it shall be.’
The wine was just as she liked it, so dark as to be nearly black, with a rich earthy taste and the faint suggestion of flowers. ‘This is good,’ she exclaimed.
Luke, who had just poured, nodded judiciously. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is good.’
‘The meal he provided was more than good. They had grilled breast of duck with fruit compote, a slightly bitter leaf salad, and hot rolls. She found she had more appetite than she had thought. Afterwards there was ice cream with a ginger sauce.
‘That was marvellous,’ she sighed as their plates were removed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal quite like it.’
‘You must let me bring you again. I come quite regularly.’ He leaned over to refill her glass. ‘We have half the wine left. Time to sit and talk.’
‘Yes. Time to sit and talk.’ It was months since she’d really talked to anyone; perhaps it would help her. ‘What d’you want to talk about?’
‘I want to know about you. All about you.’
She paused a moment, her eyes searching the dark river passing below, and then she said, ‘You need to start by understanding my parents. I’m an only child. My parents loved me dearly, they still do. We’re a loving family. But my parents loved travelling too, and they saw no good reason why they should stop travelling just because they had a young daughter in tow. They were constantly on the move to somewhere new, exploring, writing. D’you know I’ve visited over half the countries there are in the world?’
‘But you became a doctor. To get into medical school you must have studied somewhere.’
‘When I was fifteen my grandmother put her foot down. She said I was to stay at home, study constantly instead of whenever it was convenient. So I stayed with her in term time and worked at the local school. My parents were amazed when I said that was what I wanted to do—they had thought I was perfectly happy wandering with them.’
‘And you weren’t?’
‘I was just learning that there was more to life than I had known so far. When I was seventeen I flew out to the north of Canada to stay at a camp with my parents. There were a lot of American students there and they voted me the student they’d most like to be marooned on a desert island with. Not because I was attractive but because I could hunt, fish, and make a shelter. I didn’t take this as the compliment they intended it to be.’
She waved at the scene around them, the elegant room, the well-dressed diners, and the attentive staff. ‘This is how I like to dine, not squatting under a bush trying to fry lumps of meat on a smoking fire.’
He grinned. ‘If you’ve tried one, then you certainly appreciate the other. Surely there’s a place for both?’
‘Possibly. But I’ve had plenty of the one and I want to catch up on the other.’
‘I see.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re moving towards telling me something that’s making you uncomfortable, aren’t you? Are you sure you want to now? I can wait, you know.’
Once again she was surprised by his ability to gauge her mood. He seemed to know what she was feeling before she did herself. Under that hard exterior was a surprising subtlety.
‘No, you’ve asked me, so now I want you to know exactly how I feel. Then there can be no mistakes. You will have to take me as I am.’
‘It sounds as if you think that will be hard.’
‘For you it might be,’ she told him.
‘So tell me about your dead fiancé. That’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. That’s the heart of the matter.’ She sat in silence for a minute, tasting her wine, running her newly dampened tongue over her lips. Patiently, he waited for her to begin.
She said, ‘The Freudians would have a field day with me. They’d say I wanted to marry a replica of my father. I got engaged to a doctor called Gavin Bell. He was a couple of years older than me. And he was never at home. He was constantly away on some pointless expedition or other, walking across Greenland or canoeing up to the source of the Amazon, or climbing peaks that no one had ever climbed before. Climbing was what he liked best.
Anyway, he went with a group into some unexplored bit of Borneo, sneaked off climbing on his own, fell off a cliff—apparently quite a little cliff—and died.’
‘I remember it being reported,’ Ross said quietly. ‘Weren’t there two brothers?’
‘Yes. Sometimes I think Gavin was closer to Doug than he was to me. Doug used to just turn up at the flat I shared with Gavin and sleep in the loft.’
She knew her voice had become shaky, and with an effort she controlled it. ‘Anyway, now I’m making a statement: no more daring men for me. I want nothing to do with men who climb mountains, sail the Atlantic in a canoe, or ski across Antarctica. I want two-point-four children, a house in the suburbs, and a husband who comes home every night. I don’t care if he works late, so long as he comes home at some time. Any man who deliberately risks his life is out.’
‘I’ve heard that central London is more dangerous than any mountain range,’ he pointed out.
‘It might be. But you don’t throw yourself in front of the traffic deliberately.’ Suddenly her
voice was shaking again, and quietly Ross offered her his handkerchief. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luke moving towards their table, and to her surprise he placed a glass of iced water in front of her then moved swiftly away. That was kind of him, she thought.
She took a draught of the water, and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not usually so emotional.’
‘You’re a doctor, you should know that there’s nothing wrong with emotions, especially grief. Did you have any counselling when it happened?’
‘I know all about grief management, and I know all the stages because I’ve been to the lectures. Let me tell you, they don’t do much good. No, I didn’t have counselling, I just lost myself in work. I was well into my first house officer’s job, so I threw myself into that.’
‘How many people have you talked to about it?’
‘As few as possible,’ she said. ‘Merry was the nurse in charge and she helped me quite a bit, but mostly I just got on with my work. Now, I’ve told you all about my recent past—now I want to know about you.’
‘Certainly I’ll tell you all about me. But right now you don’t want me to, do you? Talking to me has brought back memories—you’re in pain.’
Now the tears were running down her face. ‘All I need to do is work,’ she said. ‘It’s easy to forget when you work.’
He nodded. ‘That’s one way. Perhaps we’d better get you home. I’ll ask Luke to get us a taxi.’
It seemed no time at all before they were drawing up outside her flat. He paid off the taxi, and walked with her to the door. She wondered if he would want to come in, yet, like him though she did, she didn’t want him in her home tonight. With his apparent insight to her feelings, he recognised this.
In the cover of her porch he kissed her gently, like a brother rather than a lover. ‘I’ve enjoyed tonight,’ he said. ‘The concert and the meal were both memorable, and if I’ve made you suffer by scratching over old wounds, then I hope in time you’ll think it worthwhile.’
‘I told you what I did to warn you off,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid it will take more than that. By the way, if I had a vote, I’d vote for you as the girl I would most like to be marooned with on a desert island.’
She giggled. ‘That’s a compliment I shall treasure.’
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
Well, she wasn’t going to see him. She needed time to think. ‘Working,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot of reading up to do, notes to take.’
Once again, uncannily he knew what she was thinking. ‘I won’t push you, I think you need more time to mourn,’ he said. ‘Just one thing, Lyn: I think there could be something between us. In fact, I know there already is. I don’t want to lose it.’
‘I need time,’ she said uneasily.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Window,’ said Lyn, pointing. ‘Window.’
Lyn pointed to the door. ‘Dower,’ Fatima said hesitantly.
‘You’re coming on, Fatima,’ Lyn said cheerfully. ‘You’ll soon be speaking English as well as most in this ward. Here, have a drink.’
‘Orange,’ said Fatima.
The uncle had phoned, but not visited again. Apparently he was too busy. There was a limit to the amount of time the staff nurse from Orthopaedics could come over. So Lyn had started to visit the little girl, to stop for a chat even though she knew Fatima didn’t understand a single word. She thought—she hoped—that it would help.
‘There’s a sparkle in your eyes,’ Merry said to her when they sat in her office, having a comfortable coffee, mid-Monday morning. ‘You’ve been up to something. Tell me all about it.’
Lyn was surprised that it showed. Hadn’t she spent all of Sunday studying, working like a lunatic to take her mind off other, more pressing things? But now she came to think of it, she did feel different this morning: a bit more alert. The world was a better place.
She decided to confide. ‘I went out with Ross on Saturday night. Well, I didn’t intend to, but he found out I was going to a concert and he got the next place to me.’ She reached over for a biscuit as Merry coughed nervously. ‘Afterwards he took me to a restaurant on the river and…’
Merry coughed again, more loudly. Lyn looked up, saw her strained face, then turned and found Melissa standing in the doorway.
‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt your coffee break,’ Melissa said coldly, ‘but have you seen those observations from the lab?’
‘Not up yet,’ Lyn said promptly. ‘I know they were expected but—’
‘Perhaps you’d like to phone down and ask about them. They’re needed urgently. And by the way, there’s no need to spend quite so much time with that Fatima child. You’re a doctor; we have nurses to do that kind of thing.’
‘Of course, Melissa,’ said Lyn, vowing to pay no attention whatsoever.
So far it had all been professional and quite proper. But then Melissa said, ‘Interesting that you should spend the evening with Ross. The last time I heard you speak on the subject I thought you said he was just the kind of man you didn’t care for. You really should try to make up your mind.’
Lyn didn’t know whether to defend herself or point out that it was none of Melissa’s business. She didn’t have to. Melissa swept out and the door slammed behind her.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Lyn. ‘I hope this is not going to cause problems on the ward, Merry. You don’t need a couple of feuding women interfering with your work.’
Merry shook her head. ‘There’ll be no problems. Melissa may have faults, but she’d never be anything less than professional. Anyway, keep out of her way today and you won’t see her for the rest of the week. She’s taking some time off. You’ll see a bit more of Ross—he’s taking over her work.’
‘Oh, good,’ said Lyn dubiously. She wasn’t sure how she would cope with Ross being so close.
In fact she coped with him as she had coped with all her problems, by working extra hard. It was easy, when there was so much to learn.
‘If you have an acute subdural haematoma, I don’t know how you judge whether to cut a burr hole or go for a full craniotomy,’ she told Ross. ‘I didn’t have a chance to ask Melissa.’
‘An SHO doesn’t need to know,’ he told her.
‘But I’m not going to stay an SHO for ever, you can bet on that. If you haven’t time to tell me yourself then tell me where to look it up.’
‘I guess I’ve got time.’ He sighed. ‘I can always do without sleep for another night.’
At about eleven on Friday morning he found her sitting on Fatima’s bed, trying to teach the little girl a few more English words from a picture book she had bought.
‘Doctor’s orders,’ he told her. ‘This is Friday, the day for taking things easy. You will have an elongated lunchtime and come to the pub with me.’
‘But I can’t do that! I’ve got to—’
He held up a silencing hand. ‘What you’ve got to do is what you’re told. May I say that the purpose of our visit to the pub is professional, not social and certainly not sexual. Well, not very sexual. There are things we have to discuss.’
‘About work?’ she queried.
‘Very much about work. It may have escaped your notice, but I do take my professional teaching duties seriously.’
In fact she had noticed. House officers, medical students, nurses, anyone who might have an interest, Ross would include them in what he was doing and make sure they understood how and why he was doing it.
To make sure she did as she was told, he picked her up at one o’clock and escorted her to the Mayflower. It wasn’t as warm as it had been before, and there were a fair number of office workers having an end-of-week drink, but they found a quiet corner. He ordered ham sandwiches for them both, and lemonade and lime.
‘So, how are you getting on?’ he asked her. ‘Still determined to specialise in neurology? It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.’
‘I love the work, and I’m more determined than e
ver to be a neurologist. I’ve sent off for details of the MRCS exam, and I’m going to have a stab at it as soon as I can.’
‘Wait a minute, there’s no hurry. You shouldn’t be thinking of exams yet. Finish this year then start thinking about the future.’
‘I told you, I love the work. And I like to have a goal, something to focus on. Work makes my life easier.’ She hadn’t meant to say that. She saw his eyes flicker towards her, realised that she had given him an opening.
‘I’ve watched you this week,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s not something that I’ve ever said to anyone before, but you work too hard. You work as if you’re driven. No one can carry on as you do and, if you do, in time you’ll have a breakdown.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said feebly. Then she picked up her ham roll and took a great bite. He couldn’t expect her to talk, while she was eating.
He looked at her approvingly. ‘I like a girl who eats well,’ he said. ‘But don’t think that you can avoid my questions that way.’
‘I don’t eat too much!’ she tried to protest without scattering crumbs all over the table.
‘I didn’t say you did. Now, I’ve got a confession to make. You told me that Merry was on your ward last year when…’
‘When Gavin was killed,’ she finished for him.
‘Yes. Well, it was most unprofessional, but I tried to get her to talk about you. How you took things, what effect it had on you. I told her that I was concerned about you.’
‘I’ll bet you didn’t get very far.’ He shook his head ruefully.
‘You’re right, I didn’t. Merry is a loyal friend. But she did agree with me. She thinks you work too hard.’
He leaned across the table so she couldn’t avoid looking at him. ‘She said you nearly killed yourself with overwork. You worked as if you were trying to do more than just forget what had happened.’
‘Why did you work so hard, Lyn?’
‘It wasn’t just his being killed, I…’ She checked herself; she had to tell this story just right. ‘I’ve always been able to lose myself in work, ever since I was a small girl. Perhaps that’s how I managed to pass my exams, because I didn’t get too much schooling. I remember lying in a tent when I was thirteen, wrapped up in my sleeping bag and reading a textbook by the aid of a torch. Rain was beating on the tent.’
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