‘The young hooligan!’ said Cara, filled with sympathy for the frail old lady. She held the woman’s hand. ‘How do you feel? Did he hurt you at all?’
‘No…I…I just feel a bit shocked, it was so sudden.’ The victim put up a trembling hand to her head as if confused by what had happened. Then with a sudden burst of spirit she said bravely, ‘I’d teach that rascal a lesson if I met him again—I’d set the dog on him!’
‘Good for you, love, don’t let it get to you!’
Seeing that the old lady was being well cared for by the restaurant staff, Cara went out to see if she could see Jake. Coming down the road were two figures. One was Jake and the other was a sullen youth he was propelling in front of him.
‘We’ll wait here,’ Jake said grimly. ‘The police will be coming soon, and I hope they throw the book at this young oaf.’
‘I never hurt her,’ whined the boy.
Jake twisted the boy’s face up to his, his blazing eyes an inch from the boy’s. ‘Didn’t hurt her? Do you think that poor old lady’s going to forget about this? It will stay with her for the rest of her life, you little toad. You need thrashing, picking on a vulnerable person like that.’
Cara looked at Jake’s expression. There was something of a white-hot fury about him, as if this particular crime might send him over the edge. She felt it wouldn’t take much for Jake to lose it completely and take a swipe at the youth. Then he’d be had up for assault!
She touched his arm lightly to try to bring him back to a more rational mode. ‘I’m glad you’ve caught him, Jake,’ she said quietly. ‘Let the police deal with him—I think they’re coming now.’
Jake almost threw the boy at the sergeant who came up. ‘You take him—I might do him a mischief!’ he growled. ‘I suppose you want us to come and give statements, do you?’
The policeman nodded. ‘If you would, sir. We’ll try not to keep you long.’
Jake looked at Cara wryly. ‘This was meant to be a relaxing evening. Don’t worry, we’ll finish it later!’
The youth was driven away by the police, and Jake went into the restaurant with the old lady’s bag which he handed to her. He sat down by the old lady and took her hand. ‘Why,’ he said gently, ‘it’s Winifred Batley. I managed to rescue your bag, Winnie. I hope nothing’s lost from it.’
An impish smile suddenly broke out on the old lady’s face. ‘There wasn’t much in it—just my laxative tablets, and he’d be welcome to those!’
Jake smiled, but his tone was grim. ‘I can think of other substances I’d rather give him. Anyway, Winnie, there’s a police car waiting to take you back home and the police want to hear from you what happened. Dr Mackenzie and I will go to the station and give our statements, and I’ll be calling on you in the morning to see if you’re all right. Would you like me to ring your son and tell him what’s happened?’
Winifred looked at him gratefully. ‘Aye, doctor, I’d appreciate that. He’ll come over to be with me, I know.’
Jake turned to the owner of the restaurant. ‘Keep that meal on hold for us, Carlo—the evening’s not over yet!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
CARA looked curiously across at Jake as they sat in the cosy half-light of the restaurant. His expression was brooding, lips compressed as he examined the menu. She was surprised at how near the edge he’d come to losing it completely with the mugger. It had been as if a different person had emerged from the self-contained man she’d thought she knew.
He caught her looking at him and smiled, as if trying to shake off his gloom. ‘Never let it be said that I’ve given you a dull evening!’ he commented wryly. ‘I think we deserve an injection of wine—something smooth that slips down easily.’
Cara nodded. ‘That would be nice. I feel I’ve almost been mugged myself. It happened so quickly! I thought a little place like Ballranoch would be safe enough from crime.’
‘Unfortunately not. These hooligans prey on the vulnerable even in a beautiful village like this. I don’t like to tell you what I’d do to them if I had my way.’
She glanced at him with perception. ‘The attack on Mrs Batley really affected you, didn’t it?’ she said gently. ‘At least she wasn’t physically harmed. It could have been worse…’
Jake blue eyes darkened angrily. ‘As I said to that young thug, poor old Winifred will have many sleepless nights because of him. You know yourself that it takes a long time to get over a mental trauma, and I venture to think that Winifred’s peaceful frame of mind has been shattered. She’s old, and she may never feel safe walking alone again.’
‘That’s true. Having her son to talk to will help, though,’ suggested Cara. But Jake was right about mental trauma, she reflected sadly. There were some things she could never erase from her mind.
‘What really gets me,’ said Jake savagely as if he hadn’t heard Cara’s remarks, ‘is the fact that that lout will forget all about his actions in a week or two—it won’t make a jot of difference to him. I know that it’s changed Winifred’s life for ever.’
Suddenly his eyes seemed to focus back on Cara, and he gave a shamefaced smile. ‘Sorry. I’m afraid I do have a thing about street violence—I must stop going on about it. After all, we’re supposed to be having a pleasant evening. I’ll try and forget about it. Now, let’s choose something to eat—I hope you’re hungry.’
‘Starving,’ she admitted. ‘It seems ages since lunchtime. I could eat a horse!’
Jake grinned. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that! How about some fresh bass in a white wine sauce with prawns? Light but filling. And then I suggest the most wonderful hot pecan pie with thick cream.’
Cara shrugged off the suit jacket and leant back against her chair. ‘Sounds very sinful, but I’m willing to put aside my principles. I’ll start the diet tomorrow.’
Jake’s eyes swept over her, noting how the pink silk blouse enhanced the glow of her skin in the muted lighting, and how her breasts curved provocatively against the constraints of the material.
‘The last thing you need to do is diet,’ he observed gravely. ‘There are too many stick insects about, and too much emphasis on eating as little as possible!’
There was something about the intimate way he looked at her that made Cara’s heart suddenly start to flutter, and she took a quick sip of wine. She mustn’t misinterpret his actions, she thought firmly. He was merely making a social observation.
Jake ordered their meal, then turned back her. ‘By the way, I never thanked you for delivering my sister’s birthday present last week. I did try to but, as I said, you were difficult to catch!’
‘It’s been a busy week,’ murmured Cara. She looked at him speculatively. ‘Does your sister work?’
‘She works from home. She’s an artist and does landscapes like Peter Dunne, but in a very different style.’
‘What a pity she didn’t go to the exhibition tonight, then. Wouldn’t she have been interested? Surely artists like to get together and discuss each other’s work?’
Jake poured some more wine into Cara’s glass before replying. ‘Ursula doesn’t go out very much…she’s a very private person,’ he said at last. ‘She used to be very gregarious but, as you can see, she has bad facial scarring. It…it’s changed her personality, I’m afraid.’
Cara frowned. ‘I wondered…’ she said falteringly. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but did she ever think of some sort of facial reconstruction? The maxillofacial plastic surgeon at St Cuth’s is supposed to be marvellous. Of course, I don’t know how she did it, and perhaps it’s too difficult a job.’
Jake shrugged his shoulders. ‘I have tried to persuade her—believe me. But she’s absolutely adamant that she won’t go through any more pain. I think the trauma of what happened to her has turned her into…well, into a different person. As I said before, it only takes a moment to change someone’s life for ever.’ His expression was incredibly sad and for a few seconds there was silence between them.
Cara put her
knife and fork down and regarded him sympathetically for a moment. ‘How did it happen?’ she said softly. ‘Was it a car accident?’
Jake shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that, although if it had been an accident she might have got over it better. I’m afraid to say it was deliberate.’
‘What do you mean—deliberate?’ whispered Cara, her eyes wide with horror.
His face was grim. ‘I can remember as if it were yesterday,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Ursula was attacked in the street by a gang of drunks, looking for money to feed their drug habit. I was walking some way ahead of her, and it was me they were trying to get. They knew I was a doctor and supposed my bag might contain something they could use. Ursula realised they were going after me and tried to prevent them.’
‘How did she do that?’
‘She was like a wild thing, biting, kicking them, but she never stood a chance. They battered and stabbed her, but still she wouldn’t give in. Then they ran off when I came back to intervene. I never even received a scratch but poor Ursula was in hospital for many weeks.’
Cara looked at Jake’s face. It was drawn with misery, the pain of the event still raw in his mind, and she realised why he’d lost some of his objectivity when Winifred had been mugged. She put a hand across the table and placed her hand on his.
‘It wasn’t your fault. You don’t blame yourself surely?’
He smiled sadly at her. ‘I’m afraid I do to some extent. You see, I’d already told her to hurry up and keep up with me as we were late for a meeting. I’d even said that she shouldn’t have bothered coming if she couldn’t get there on time!’ He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. ‘You see, Cara, if I’d been less impatient I’d have been by her side when it happened and able to fend off her attackers. Yes, ultimately I believe it’s my fault that Ursula received her appalling injuries.’
Cara shook her head. ‘You’re being far too hard on yourself—you must know that. Has Ursula ever said she blamed you?’
‘Never. All the same, I owe her so much—not just for that night, but for my life generally.’
‘In what way?’
He grinned, his countenance lightening somewhat. ‘I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I’m afraid. I come from a long line of idlers who preferred drink to work, and after my mother died my father didn’t care what I did as long as I didn’t cost him money. It was Ursula who was ambitious for me—struggled to find the money to see me through medical school.’
‘You have a lot to thank her for, then.’ Cara toyed with her knife and fork for a second. ‘It’s good that you and she live together now, isn’t it? She must love that.’
‘We’re very close. It suits us both.’
As Cara sipped the coffee they’d ordered, she reflected that, of course, it would suit a bachelor to have a sister in tow. He had a ready-made excuse not to get involved with anyone. He had to look after his sister, and she was there to cook and wash for him—it was a perfect shield to protect him from any predatory females!
She flicked a look at him from under her lashes. Whatever his sister had done for him, Jake was to be admired for his support of Ursula. He had a strong sense of loyalty, and underneath that tough exterior there was an affectionate and loving nature.
Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for Jake, perhaps because she wanted in some small way to thank him for the lovely meal, but on the way home Cara found herself saying rather diffidently, ‘How about coming in for a quick nightcap? My father keeps a good malt whisky.’
She looked at Jake’s profile next to her in the car. She was beginning to understand why he had a touch of the loner about him. He wanted to do as well as he could in his career to make up for his sister’s sacrifice, and that needed drive and perseverence. Ursula had told her that he’d had to eschew a romantic life to pursue his ambitions, and single-minded people often seemed rather aloof.
Cara’s path through medical school had been very easy compared to Jake’s. Her parents had been encouraging and there’d been enough money to see her through. It had just been the latter part of her life that had fallen apart, she thought sadly.
The embers of the fire were still burning in the huge fireplace in the drawing room, and there was an air of cosiness and warmth about the place. The dark red velvet curtains were drawn, and the only lights on were the reading lamps by the easy chairs. Cara tossed another log on the fire and it sprang to life, sparks flying up the chimney and making their two shadows dance on the wall opposite.
Suddenly shy, she glanced at him rather timorously, wondering why she’d gone against her better instincts and asked him back. It seemed just slightly too intimate—just the two of them together in the sheltered atmosphere of the cosy room.
‘Do you like water with your whisky?’ she asked.
He stood well away from her as if he, too, was embarrassed by the situation they were in. ‘No, I like to taste the real thing.’
Cara passed him a glass and then stood by the fire. There was silence between them for a few seconds, then they both spoke together.
‘When are you going to show your father his picture?’
‘I can’t wait to show Dad the picture!’
They looked at each other and laughed, the tense atmosphere between them easing. Jake moved towards her and took a mouthful of whisky.
‘Good stuff, this,’ he said, holding up the glass to the light then looking round the room. ‘This is such an elegant room. Where do you think you could put the painting?’
‘If Dad doesn’t want it in his bedroom, we could always put it above the fireplace.’
Jake looked at the spot she indicated and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m surprised there isn’t anything there now…it seems the perfect place.’
‘There was a picture there once—a portrait,’ said Cara sadly. ‘It was of my mother, but dear Angela made sure it was removed. I suppose it was hard to expect a young bride to keep a huge likeness of her husband’s first wife in the house—but nevertheless it hurt me to see it gone. She was a very beautiful woman.’
Jake gazed at Cara gravely. ‘Then you take after your mother.’ He leant against the mantelpiece and said slowly, ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking—but how did your father come to meet Angela?’
Cara bit her lip—it still shook her that her father could have married so soon after her mother had died. ‘He met her at a medical conference—she was the manageress of the hotel where it was held. I couldn’t believe it really—my parents had been married for twenty-five years and adored each other, but Mum had only been dead for six months when my father remarried. I think he was trying to fill the terrible gap in his life, but he couldn’t have chosen a more unsuitable person.’
‘So he didn’t know her before?’
‘No…he was taken in by her looks and honeyed words, I’m afraid. Angela was only concerned with one person—herself! She saw money, a title and a vulnerable man who thought she loved him for himself…’ Cara gave an unsteady laugh. ‘They say there’s no fool like an old fool, don’t they?’
‘I take it he was besotted with her, then. And from what you said before, you were forced out?’
Cara looked at the leaping flames of the fire, twisting her hands together. ‘I’m afraid my relationship with Dad started to crack from then on. The truth is, he was so frightened he’d lose Angela that he’d do anything to accommodate her wishes. Angela wanted me out of the house but Dad objected to me going with Toby. He saw him for what he was—a pretentious rat.’
‘So what happened next?’ prompted Jake gently.
‘We had a terrible row and he said he didn’t care what I did as long as I didn’t annoy Angela!’
Cara’s words hung starkly in the air, their very simplicity highlighting the terrible shock she’d felt at the time. It was surprising how the retelling of the story moved her, and to her embarrassment two large tears rolled down her cheeks. She hunched her shoulders and hugged her arms round herself as if trying to su
ppress her emotion.
In an instant Jake was by her side, his arm round her shoulders, his forehead creased with concern. ‘Cara, sweetheart…please, don’t get upset. I wouldn’t have mentioned it for the world if I’d thought it would hurt you. Forgive me for prying…’
Cara brushed her tears away angrily. What was the point of getting upset over something that was done and dusted now?
‘Don’t be silly—it’s not your fault,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I’m a fool for allowing myself to cry over a horrible woman like that. As a matter of fact,’ she said with a faint smile, looking up at him with eyes still moist with tears, ‘it’s good to talk about it. Toby didn’t like maudlin introspection.’
‘He doesn’t sound a very sympathetic character.’
‘No,’ said Cara shortly.
Jake hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. ‘So…no more tears?’
He held her glance for a moment, and Cara began to breathe a little faster. He was so close she could see the dark flecks in those blue eyes, the late night stubble on his chin, feel his breath on her cheek. Any closer and they would be touching, breast to breast. His arm was still round her shoulders and suddenly it seemed natural to Jake to draw her closer, pull her head down onto his chest, rocking her against him like one would with an upset child.
She heard the steady thump of his heart and gulped. He was like a rock, his muscular body holding hers comfortingly, soothing her as his hand stroked her back. He was merely being kind, she told herself sternly, it was nothing to do with attraction or need. He was just trying to calm her because she was upset—wasn’t he?
She looked up at him before pulling gently away. ‘You’re very kind…’ she started to say.
‘Cara…’ His voice was rough, his eyes dark with longing. ‘Cara, don’t move away. I…I want to kiss you so very much, comfort you.’
Then he bent his head down, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, setting her lips on fire, teasing them apart and melting them in a long and passionate kiss. For a second she made a feeble effort to resist.
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