by Joanna Neil
‘I know—he’s in one of the houses on the estate.’ Nate’s eyes darkened. ‘It was me who made sure he had somewhere to go... As for the rest, my father said everything was being dealt with. I’m sorry if that wasn’t the case... I’ve been working away quite a bit in the States, so I couldn’t oversee things for myself. I wanted to, but...you didn’t seem to want me around and then this job came up... I thought, perhaps, you would find it easier if I wasn’t around...’
She turned her back to the sea and leaned against the railing, facing him. She wouldn’t be drawn into that conversation again, not now. It was too difficult. ‘Will you be going back there?’
‘No, this last stint was just a six-months contract in the paediatric intensive care unit in Boston. I have a job lined up here in Devon, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on things from now on. It’s what I’ve been working towards. This business with my father just moved things forward a bit.’ His gaze moved over her, gliding over her slender curves, outlined by the simple sheath dress she was wearing. ‘Better still,’ he said in a roughened voice, ‘it means I’ll be able to see more of you. Perhaps you and I could start over...?’
Her heartbeat quickened and her cheeks flushed with heat. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ she countered in a low voice, her throat suddenly constricted. If Nate thought he could erase the last two years and swoop back into her life, he had another think coming.
‘Are you sure about that?’ He was looking at her in that devilish way that had her nervous system on red alert and he was moving closer, the glint in his green eyes full of promise...
It was a promise that never came to fruition. Shouts came from above them, shocking her system and acting like a dash of cold water to propel them away from one another.
‘Help, someone...come quickly—we need help here! Is Nate Branscombe still around? Is that his car in the car park?’
Startled, Sophie looked up to where the sound came from, up on the restaurant’s terrace. She saw people getting to their feet, rushing towards the corner table, barely visible from this angle.
A man came to lean over the balustrade, looking down at them, waving his arms urgently. ‘Nate, will you come up? It’s your father. He’s collapsed.’
‘Call for an ambulance,’ Nate shouted back. He was already taking the steps, racing to get to his father, but instead of following him Sophie hurried towards the car park. Her medical bag was in the boot of her car. Her instincts told her they might need it.
When she reached the corner table a few minutes later, she could see that James Branscombe was sitting propped up against the balustrade. His skin looked clammy, ashen as he groaned in pain. Sophie guessed he was having a bad angina attack, which meant his heart wasn’t receiving enough oxygen and had to work harder to get what it needed.
Nate had loosened his father’s shirt collar and was kneeling by him, talking to him quietly and trying to reassure him. ‘Is your nitro spray in your pocket?’ he asked, but James Branscombe was barely able to speak. Nate searched through his pockets until he found what he was looking for and then quickly sprayed the liquid under his father’s tongue. The medication would dilate the blood vessels, allowing blood to flow more easily and thereby lessening the heart’s workload.
Nate glanced at Sophie as she came to kneel down beside him. His expression was grim; his fear for his father was etched on his face. He seemed relieved to see that Sophie was by his side, though. ‘You have your medical bag?’ he said. ‘That’s good. Do you have aspirin in there?’
‘I do—they’re chewable ones, or he can dissolve them on his tongue.’ She opened the case and handed him the tablets. They would thin the blood and hopefully would prevent blood clots from closing up the arteries.
After a few minutes, though, it was clear that Lord Branscombe was still in a lot of pain. His features were grey, his lips taking on a bluish colour, and beads of cold sweat had broken out on his brow. Sophie guessed this was more than a bad angina attack. She was worried for Nate; this must be something he’d dreaded, the real reason he’d come home.
‘Morphine?’ Nate asked, and she nodded.
‘Yes, I have it. I’ll prepare a syringe.’
‘Thanks.’ He administered the pain medication and soon afterwards wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his father’s arm. ‘He’s becoming hypotensive,’ he said, frowning. ‘I’ll put in an intravenous line—as soon as the paramedics get here we can put him on a saline drip to stabilise his blood pressure.’
They didn’t have to wait too long. The ambulance arrived shortly, siren blaring, and the two paramedics hurried on to the terrace. They nodded to Sophie, recognising her from her work at the hospital.
Nate swiftly introduced himself and said, ‘I think my father’s having a heart attack. We need to get an ECG reading and send it to the Emergency department.’
‘Okay. We’ll make sure they’re kept informed.’
‘Thank you.’
One of the paramedics set up the portable ECG machine, whilst the other man began to give the patient oxygen through a mask. Nate helped them to lift his father on to a stretcher, and then together they carried him down to the waiting ambulance.
‘His blood pressure’s dropping.’ The paramedic sounded the alarm and Nate reacted swiftly, setting up a saline drip and giving his father drugs to support his heart’s action. Sophie stood by as the three men worked on Lord Branscombe.
‘He’s gone into V-fib. Stand clear.’ Nate called out a warning as his father’s heart rhythm went awry and the defibrillator readied itself to give a shock to the heart. He checked his father’s vital signs. ‘And again, stand clear.’
Her heart went out to him as he exhausted every effort to save his father’s life. She saw the worry etched on his face and suddenly wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him, but of course she couldn’t do anything of the sort.
‘All right,’ he said eventually. ‘He’s stable for now. I’ll go with him to the hospital.’
The paramedic nodded. ‘Okay, we’re ready to go. The emergency team’s alerted and waiting for him.’
‘That’s good.’ Nate turned to Sophie, who was waiting by the ambulance doors. ‘I want to thank you for all your help,’ he said softly. He reached out and gently cupped her arms with his long fingers. ‘I owe you. I’ll make it up to you, Sophie, I promise.’
She shook her head, making her soft curls quiver and dance. ‘There’s no need for you to do that. I was glad to help.’ No matter what bad feelings she might harbour about James Branscombe, she couldn’t have stood by and done nothing to save him. Working alongside Nate, though, had been another matter entirely. She hadn’t been prepared for that and the effect it had on her at all.
The paramedic closed the doors of the ambulance and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sophie stood by the roadside and watched the vehicle pull away and it was as though the world was sliding from under her feet. She reached out to rest a hand on a nearby drystone wall.
Nate had been back for only five minutes and already she felt as though she’d been hit by an electric storm. How on earth was she going to cope, knowing he meant to stay around and once more make his home at Branscombe Manor?
CHAPTER TWO
‘COME ON IN, then, Charlie.’ Sophie let herself into her father’s kitchen and then stood to one side to let the excited yellow Labrador follow her. He was carrying his lead in his mouth as usual—she always let him walk home the last few yards untethered. She went over to the sink and filled the dog bowl with fresh cold water. ‘Okay, I’ll swap you—you give me the lead and I’ll let you have the water.’ It was a ritual they followed every time they went out.
Charlie obligingly dropped the loop handle and she unclipped the lead from his collar and put it away. He drank thirstily and then dropped to the floor, panting heavily and watching her as
she washed her hands and then filled the kettle and switched it on.
She gazed out of the window at the neat lawn and the garden with its bright flower borders. There were scarlet surfinias in tubs that reminded her of that day at the restaurant when she’d met up with Nate. It had been almost two weeks ago and she hadn’t seen anything more of him since then but she guessed he was probably spending a lot of his time visiting his father in the Coronary Care Unit.
‘He looks suitably worn out.’ Her father wheeled himself into the kitchen, breaking into her thoughts and smiling as he looked over at the dog. ‘Just as well, if the physio’s coming here later on. Charlie can be a bit too exuberant at times.’
Sophie smiled with him and pushed a cup of tea across the table towards him. ‘He’s not slowing down at all, is he? You’d have thought at eight years old there would have been a few signs of maturity by now, wouldn’t you?’
‘You would.’
Her father had bought Charlie as a pup, a couple of years after his marriage to her mother had broken down. He’d taken him with him everywhere, even to his work on the estate, and they’d roamed the woods and fields together, man and dog.
‘How’s the work going with the physio?’ she asked now, as she slid bread into the toaster. Every morning before work, she came over to the house to have breakfast with her father.
‘We’re getting there, I reckon.’ He paused, thinking about it. ‘When she came yesterday I stood for a while with the frame, and I even managed to take a couple of steps.’
‘You did?’ He looked deservedly pleased with himself and Sophie stopped what she was doing and rushed over to him. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ She hugged him fiercely. ‘I’m thrilled to bits for you. That’s amazing.’
‘Yes, it’s definitely a step forward...’ He chuckled at his own joke and she laughed with him. ‘Seriously, with all the treatment I’ve been having at the hospital, and now these sessions at home with the physio, I feel as though I’m making progress. It’s been a long job, but I’m getting there at last.’
They ate cereals and toast and chatted for a while, but Sophie soon realised her father had something else on his mind. ‘I’ve been hearing rumours,’ he said, ‘about Branscombe losing all his money and the estate houses being put on the market. Do you know anything about that?’
‘Not really.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll know anything more until Lord Branscombe is out of hospital. Nate’s looking after things in the meantime, but—’
‘You’ve seen him again?’ Martin Trent’s voice was sharp, his whole manner on the alert all at once.
‘No...no, not since I saw him that day at the Seafarer when his father was taken ill.’ Sophie hastily tried to calm him. It was true. She hadn’t seen him. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d phoned the Manor House the next day to find out how Lord Branscombe was faring. After all, it had been an innocent enquiry—she’d expected to talk to Charlotte, and it had been a shock to have Nate answer the phone.
‘I haven’t seen him,’ she said again, calmly, concerned that her father was still looking tense, his fingers gripping tightly on the arms of his wheelchair, ‘so I assume he’s busy visiting his father and talking to the Estate Manager to see how they can keep things jogging along.’
‘Hmmph.’ He slumped back in his seat. ‘I don’t want either of us to have anything more to do with that family. James is an arrogant, self-centred womaniser and his son is likely no better.’
‘We don’t know that Nate is like that,’ she said in a reasonable tone. ‘He hasn’t been around here for any length of time these past few years, has he, so how can we judge him?’
‘He can’t escape heredity,’ her father said flatly. ‘It’ll be in the genes. That’s all you need to know. Besides, he upset you... I know you and he argued but you were broken-hearted when he went away.’
‘It was a bad time. You were injured and struggling to come to terms with being disabled and I was confused and lashed out.’ Sophie sighed inwardly. She understood her father’s dislike of the Branscombes and his hostility towards them. After all, he’d worked for Lord Branscombe for years and had suffered in the end because of it, but it was hard for her to share his animosity towards the son. Her mind drifted back to that last conversation she’d had with Nate.
He’d been more than pleased to talk to her that day when she’d telephoned the Manor House. Despite his troubles, his voice was warm and welcoming, sending little thrills to run along her spine. Just hearing him had made her feel that he was close by, almost as though he was in the room with her. She’d been concerned for him, though, wondering how he was bearing up, and tried to keep her mind on the business in hand.
‘They’re assessing my father in the Coronary Care Unit,’ he’d said when she asked about Lord Branscombe. ‘I think they’re planning on removing the blood clot and putting a stent in one of his arteries. It’s looking as though he’ll be in hospital for some time.’
They’d talked for a while and he said, ‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did—both for my father and for selfish reasons... It was good seeing you again, Sophie. I’m sorry our get-together came to such an abrupt end.’
‘Yes...though I wasn’t expecting you to turn up that day or I—’ She broke off.
‘Or you’d have gone out of your way to avoid me.’ She could hear the wry inflection in his voice and she flinched, knowing what he said was the truth.
Seeing him again had stirred up all sorts of feelings inside her that she’d thought were long since forgotten...or at least pushed to one side. But she didn’t want to go there again—to start up something that would only end in distress.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she sought for a way to bring the conversation to an end. ‘I’m sure your father’s in good hands, Nate. He’ll be glad to have you by his side as he recovers.’
‘Yes, he seems calmer, knowing I’m here for him.’
‘That’s good.’ She hesitated, cautious about getting more deeply involved with him, and then said, ‘I should go. Maybe I’ll see you around.’
‘Sophie, couldn’t we—?’ Nate started to speak but she quickly cut the call before she could change her mind.
‘Bye.’ She had no idea what he must have made of her rush to get away, but he already knew she was trying to keep her distance from him.
‘Anyway,’ her father was saying, ‘it looks as though the tenancies could be at risk if what the papers say is true.’ His brow was furrowed with anxiety. ‘I’ve grown used to living here since the crash—I have wheelchair access, handrails... I don’t want to have to move...to have to go through the upheaval all over again...’
‘It probably won’t come to that,’ she said, trying to soothe him. ‘I suppose we’re all in much the same boat—my place is rented too. But, as far as I know, the press stories are just speculation. It’s too soon yet for anything to have been decided.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ He glanced at Charlie, snoozing in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Thanks for taking him out for me every day. It’s good of you and I do appreciate what you do for me—I know how hard you work.’
She smiled at him and stood up to clear away the breakfast dishes. ‘I like to keep an eye on you. I was worried when you had that chest infection, but you look so much better now.’ She finished tidying up and then glanced at her watch. ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have a date first thing with those gorgeous little babies in the Neonatal Unit.’
‘Ah...that’s the bit you like best of all about your job, isn’t it? Looking after the tiny infants.’
‘It is.’ She gave him a quick kiss and a hug, patted a sleepy Charlie on the head and headed out of the door.
She drove to work, following the coast road for a while, uplifted as always by the sight of the wide, sweeping bay and the rugged landscape of cliffs and i
nlets. After a mile or two she turned inland, driving along a country road until gradually it gave way to suburbia and eventually the local town came into view. She parked the car at the hospital and made her way inside the building.
There was one baby in particular she was eager to see this morning. Alfie had been born prematurely at twenty-seven weeks and had been looked after in Intensive Care for the last couple of months. She’d followed his progress day by day. Now that he was a little stronger and in a better stage of development, Sophie had been able to withdraw his nasogastric feeding tube and she was keen to see how he and his mum were coping with him taking milk from a bottle. They’d had a few attempts at feeding him over the last couple of days, but so far it hadn’t been going too well.
‘Hi there, Mandy,’ Sophie greeted the young woman who was sitting by the baby’s cot, holding the infant in her arms. She looked down at the tiny baby, his little fingers clenched, his pink mouth pouting, seeking nourishment. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’
Mandy smiled agreement, though at the moment the baby was squirming, crying intermittently and obviously hungry. The nurse on duty brought a bottle of milk and handed it to Mandy, who gently placed the teat in her baby’s mouth.
Alfie sucked greedily, gulped, swallowed and forgot to breathe, causing him to choke on the milk, and Mandy looked anxious. ‘He keeps doing that,’ she said worriedly.
‘It’s all right, Mandy,’ Sophie said softly. ‘It’s something they have to learn, to remember to breathe while they’re feeding. Sometimes they stop breathing for a few seconds because the heart rate is a little slow—as in Alfie’s case—but we’ve added a shot of caffeine to his milk to give him a little boost. There’s supplemental iron in there too, because being born prematurely means his iron stores are a bit low.’
‘Will he always have this low heart rate?’ The young mother was full of concern for her baby.
‘No, no. Things will get better as he matures. In the meantime, the caffeine will help. You can relax. He’s doing really well.’ Sophie lightly stroked the baby’s hand. ‘Look, he’s sucking better already.’
