Had he resented her presence here? After all, Penhally was a rather long way to go if he only wanted to find a beach to do his exercises and finish up with a swim. It might be that he’d deliberately come this far so that there was less likelihood of bumping into anyone who would recognise him.
There was also the isolation factor.
This late in the season there were far fewer holidaymakers about, especially the school or university students who might linger on the beach that much later in the day. This would almost guarantee that he wouldn’t have an audience while he pushed himself to the limit to regain his strength and flexibility.
He certainly wasn’t struggling so much this evening, she noticed as she passed him for the third time, only now allowing herself to notice that, as she was sticking to the very edge of the firm sand, she was between him and the dying sun and was therefore not limited to seeing him as a silhouette. In fact, this was the clearest view she’d ever had of him, apart from the glimpse of firm male flesh she was treated to when he leaned forward in his V-necked scrubs.
Just then he turned to pick up his towel and as she got her first good look at the injury that had made his struggles so necessary, she almost tripped over her own feet.
Dear Lord, what had happened to him?
She’d felt the irregularity of his skin when she’d been working out the knots in his muscles—she hadn’t been able to avoid feeling it—but in the poor light she’d never realised just how livid the scarring had been, or how extensive.
‘It was an explosion,’ he said suddenly, and she was horrified to realise that she’d been standing there staring at his injuries.
‘That would explain the type of scarring,’ she said, finally managing to grab hold of a little of the control she’d learned during her training. ‘Did you need a great deal of surgery and skin grafts?’
‘Not as much as I might have done if the spinal cord had been severed,’ he said prosaically, and the image of such a vital man being confined to a wheelchair made her shudder.
She wanted to know more. In fact, she wanted to know everything there was to know about this man, but before she could formulate the next question he was gesturing towards the sea.
‘Ready to swim?’ he invited.
She actually put both hands to the hem of her top, ready to strip it off over her head, before she remembered the reason why she couldn’t.
‘I’m not wearing a costume under my clothes,’ she said with a grimace, and the feeling of disappointment was immediate. If she’d thought about it earlier, she could have run back to Beabea’s cottage to change. It had been so long since she’d swum with anyone, and the thought of sharing this stretch of the sea with him was…
‘You are wearing sports clothes under those things, are you not?’ he asked, gesturing towards the casual clothing she’d donned before she’d left the hospital. ‘Can you not swim in those?’
‘Why not?’ she exclaimed with a grin when she suddenly remembered that her sports bra and pants were the sort of utilitarian shape that wouldn’t look unlike a modest bikini.
Before she could second-guess herself and realise that she was exposing far more than she ought to the man, she stripped her cotton knit top over her head and shoved the drawstring trousers over her hips to pool around her ankles.
With the sort of burning awareness that told her he was watching her every step, she sprinted for the water. Barely waiting for the waves to reach above her knees, she dived through the next line of surf and came up with her arm already poised for the first fierce stroke.
It was some time before she realised that Zayed had stopped swimming and was now standing in the fading light on the beach.
This time he’d been the one standing guard while she’d ploughed backwards and forwards across the mouth of the bay until her muscles began to quiver in a way that told her she’d regret this in the morning.
‘I hadn’t realised just how much I’d missed that. Have you been waiting a long time?’ she asked, panting as she splashed her way through the shallows towards him. It was only when he didn’t reply that she looked a little more closely and realised that he seemed to be transfixed by her appearance…her almost naked appearance as the waning light rendered her coffee-coloured clothing all but invisible against her tanned skin, and the cool sea breeze puckered her nipples into tight little beads.
‘Here,’ he said gruffly, holding out his own towel in her direction, then dragged his gaze away to stare fixedly towards the fading horizon.
Emily’s breath caught in her throat as she stepped close enough to take the nubby fabric from him to wrap it around her shoulders, wishing she was able to see his expression more clearly.
For just a second it had seemed as if there had been something almost…almost predatory in those dark eyes as they’d skimmed over her, and the thought that he’d been looking at her with sexual intent sent an atavistic thrill right through her that was waking all sorts of primitive responses.
‘Why do you…?’
‘What is it…?’
They both hurried into speech to fill the uncomfortable silence stretching between them, and both halted at the same time.
‘What did you want to know?’ he offered as he pulled the edges of his shirt together and began to button away the sight of that impressive chest.
‘Oh, I just wondered…’ What had she been thinking about while her body had still been reacting to the thought that he might have liked what he’d seen? Oh, yes. ‘Why do you come all the way to Penhally to swim? Is it because it’s far enough from St Piran’s so that you’re unlikely to bump into someone who’d recognise you?’
‘If that was the reason, it obviously did not work,’ he said wryly. ‘But, actually, it is because it is convenient for me as I have a house up there.’ He gestured towards the far end of the beach, to the cliffs beyond Penhally Bay.
Emily knew the area he meant and knew the sort of houses that had been built up there.
‘The view must be spectacular,’ she said, even as she silently acknowledged that only someone wealthy enough to set up a specialist unit would be able to afford one of those houses. They were a far cry from Beabea’s little cottage.
‘And what is it that has you hurrying to Penhally every day?’ he asked as he accepted the neatly folded towel from her and tucked it under one arm. ‘I saw you looking at your watch today, just after it was time for you to leave. Do you have a man waiting impatiently for you to come—?’
The shrill sound of a mobile phone cut through his unexpectedly personal question and Emily reached for it, recognising the ring tone. She caught sight of the name of the person ringing her and her heart suddenly leapt into her mouth.
‘Hello?’ she said, breathless with dread.
‘Hello, Emily, love.’ Her grandmother’s gentle voice filled her ear with the reassurance that she hadn’t gone yet. ‘Staff Nurse let me use her phone to tell you that I’m awake if you want to visit. I didn’t know if you might have given up on me and gone back—’
‘Of course I want to see you,’ Emily cut in. ‘I’ve just been for a swim on the beach down below you, but it won’t take long for me to get there. Five minutes. Ten at the most.’
She ended the call and turned to the silent shadow standing beside her with a smile. ‘That’s the reason why I hurry to Penhally every day.’
‘Your boyfriend expects you to stop what you are doing to come when he calls?’ he asked, and in the darkness his voice sounded almost disapproving.
‘No.’ She chuckled. ‘That wasn’t a demanding boyfriend. That was my grandmother.’ She was struck by the sudden urge to introduce the two of them to each other. It would be interesting to see what Beabea made of the man who’d begun to fill her every waking thought. ‘Would you like to walk up with me to visit her? She had to move into the hospice a few days ago and…’
‘The hospice? She is ill?’ She was almost certain he’d intended refusing the invitation until that moment.
‘Surely she will not want a stranger to intrude upon her?’ They were walking while they were talking and she could see his expression a little better now that they were climbing closer to the lights along Harbour Road, well enough to see that he was intrigued.
‘Beabea has never met a stranger,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘It has never mattered to her whether someone is a duke or a dustman—she is just fascinated by people and always finds a way to put them at their ease.’
‘Even now, when she is—?’
‘Especially now,’ Emily broke in, preventing him from saying the hateful words. ‘She has been complaining that she hasn’t had enough visitors to make life interesting. I think she would definitely find you interesting.’
He laughed aloud, the sound bouncing merrily back at them from the row of houses that faced out towards the sea. ‘In that case, how can I refuse the invitation?’
‘Beabea? Are you still awake?’ Emily called gently as she stuck her head round the door.
‘Come in, Emily, dear,’ her grandmother invited. ‘I’m sorry I was asleep when you came earlier. They had to change the dose on that dratted pump thing. I have no intention of sleeping my last few days away if I can help it.’
‘Are you feeling up to a visitor?’ Emily asked, every nerve aware of Zayed’s presence in the corridor behind her as she stepped forward to give her grandmother a gentle hug.
‘Of course I am, dear.’ Her faded blue eyes brightened at the prospect, even though she was now barely strong enough to lift her hand in an automatic gesture to check that her soft silvery curls were tidy. ‘I hope you’ve brought someone entertaining.’
‘I do not know how entertaining I will be, but it is an honour to meet the grandmother of Emily,’ Zayed said as he stepped into the room and walked forward to offer his hand. ‘I am Zayed Khalil and I work with your granddaughter at St Piran’s Hospital.’ He bent low over Beabea’s hand and Emily saw delight sparkle in her eyes even as she took his measure.
‘Emily has spoken of you,’ she said after several long seconds of the sort of silence that would have had Emily shuffling her feet when she’d been younger. Zayed stoically stood his ground and seemed to have no difficulty meeting her grandmother’s direct gaze until she gave a single nod and a smile.
‘I am very pleased to meet you,’ she said, and Emily could hardly blame her for sounding almost coquettish in the face of Zayed at his most charming. ‘But she completely forgot to tell me how handsome you are,’ Beabea added, and Emily cringed.
‘Perhaps Emily does not think I am handsome,’ Zayed retorted with a sideways glance and an unrepentant grin at Emily’s blazing face
Her grandmother snorted. ‘I didn’t bring up a stupid grandchild,’ Beabea told him sternly. ‘She knows a good man when she sees one.’
It was something that she’d heard her grandmother say a thousand times over the years, but it was the first time Emily had ever seen it bring such a look of sadness to a man’s face. And she had absolutely no idea why. Zayed was a handsome man and he was also a good man, otherwise he would never have thought about setting up the unit at St Piran’s and working the hours he did to take care of his little charges.
And as for the way he was gently teasing her grandmother, bringing a touch of colour to cheeks that had been grey and lifeless for so many weeks…well, if that wasn’t a mark of a good-natured man, Emily didn’t know what was.
Within moments, Zayed had been invited to perch on the edge of Beabea’s bed and was being given the third degree. All Emily had to do was stay in the background, listening quietly to learn that he’d been born and brought up in Xandar and had returned there after he’d completed his medical training, only leaving in the wake of the most recent wave of atrocities.
‘I remember,’ her grandmother said thoughtfully. ‘There was a series of explosions, wasn’t there? Several prominent people were killed when one of the more reactionary groups tried to make a point.’
‘There is nothing wrong with your memory,’ Zayed said, and Emily was sure that some odd sort of understanding seemed to pass between the two of them, but then Beabea was back in full flow again.
‘So, where are you living now?’ she demanded. ‘In one of those dreadful little flats they put up for the single staff who have to live close enough to reach the hospital when they’re on call?’
‘Thankfully, no,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Because my unit is largely privately funded, I have been able to set many of the rules myself, including employing enough staff so that the on-call times are not too onerous. This means that I am able to live in my house in Penhally most of the time and travel backwards and forwards to the hospital.’
‘You have a house in Penhally?’ Beabea’s tone was one of disgust that she’d missed out on this prime piece of gossip. ‘Where? Do you know the name of the person who lived there before you?’
Emily suddenly blessed the inspiration that had prompted her to bring Zayed to visit her grandmother. In just these few short minutes she was hearing the answer to all the questions she’d been wanting to ask but hadn’t dared to for fear of seeming too inquisitive.
‘The house is up on the cliffs on the other side of Penhally, looking out across the water, like your room here. And as for the person who lived there before, he was one of the doctors who worked at the surgery down in the town. An Italian, I think, by the name of Marcus…’
‘Marco,’ her grandmother corrected him swiftly. ‘Marco Avanti. He and his wife have gone back to Italy. But…if you’re living in Marco’s house, that means that you’re the person who’s set up that special unit for the children.’
‘I told you all about the unit, Beabea,’ Emily cut in, wondering if this confusion was a sign that it was time for the two of them to leave her in peace. If the morphine pump had recently delivered her next dose of analgesia, it wouldn’t be long before she fell asleep again. ‘Do you remember? Mr Khalil was kind enough to take me onto his team when Mr Breyley had to fly out to New Zealand.’
‘Ah, yes! I meant to ask you about that. How is that little grandchild of his doing?’ Beabea was momentarily distracted. ‘How soon after the baby was born were they going to have to operate?’
‘He phoned St Piran’s to tell us that the operation has already been done,’ Emily told her with a smile. ‘They’ve detached all the faulty plumbing around the heart and put it all back where it should have been in the first place, and everything’s looking good now.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ her grandmother said with a nod of satisfaction. ‘But I still want to know about this rehabilitation place of yours, young man. The gossip says that there are dozens of children up there, living a life of luxury with gold taps and marble floors and people to wait on them hand, foot and finger.’
‘And I’m sure your language has just as many sayings about those who listen to gossip as mine does,’ he said with a laugh.
‘So, what is the truth, then?’ Beabea pressed him.
‘The truth is that it was a very luxurious house,’ he admitted, ‘but it was the position and the space and the possibility of converting it to my requirements that made me buy it. I knew I was going to need somewhere suitable for my little patients to go when they were well enough to leave St Piran’s but not yet well enough to travel back to Xandar, and it had the added benefit of a wide view of the sea and proximity to the beach, which is something none of these children have ever seen or experienced before.’
‘And the life of luxury with gold taps and servants?’
‘A figment of the imagination, I am sorry to say. The servants are really nursing and physiotherapy staff, and they are there to take care of the children and to show their parents how to continue the work when they return home.’ He threw a quizzical glance in Emily’s direction. ‘Perhaps Emily could bring yo
u over for a visit, so that you can tell all your friends about the real story.’
‘I would love to,’ Beabea said, but smiled a little sadly. ‘Unfortunately, I think my visiting days are over, and I wouldn’t like to upset your little patients if they saw such a sick old lady. But that doesn’t mean that Emily can’t come in my place,’ she suggested, just a shade too brightly for Emily’s liking. ‘Then she could tell me all about it instead.’
‘Beabea,’ Emily began, embarrassed that Zayed might feel that he’d been forced into inviting her.
‘I would be delighted to show Emily around,’ he interrupted swiftly. ‘In fact, I will be going on there this evening, when you have had enough of our company. Perhaps she will want to go with me then?’
CHAPTER SIX
AS EMILY led the way out to her car a few minutes later, Zayed was still marvelling at the elderly woman’s strength and determination, even though her body was failing her.
In those first few seconds when he’d stepped into the room it had felt very much like the times when he’d been called to stand under the eagle eye of his own grandmother, and he’d felt the same crazy conviction that she could read his mind and the same boyish need to fidget.
Then she’d silently nodded and smiled at him, and it had almost felt like some sort of blessing.
He was glad that he hadn’t been tempted to underestimate the woman’s intelligence, especially when the conversation had turned to his home country. Who would have thought that an elderly woman dying of cancer in the depths of Cornwall would have such accurate recall of the potentially catastrophic happenings in Xandar, a country so many thousands of miles away? And who would have believed that she would have so accurately connected those events with his own life?
He was only grateful that she hadn’t questioned him about those dark times in front of Emily. It was some sort of relief to be working with someone who didn’t know all the details and wouldn’t be tempted to pity him for all he’d lost. Pity was one emotion that he couldn’t bear, not when he didn’t deserve it.
Caroline Anderson, Josie Metcalfe, Maggie Kingsley, Margaret McDonagh Page 23
