Caroline Anderson, Josie Metcalfe, Maggie Kingsley, Margaret McDonagh

by Brides of Penhally Bay Vol. 03 (li

  ‘There are reasons,’ he began stiffly.

  ‘I’m sure there are, but why punish yourself unnecessarily?’ she demanded, her own heart aching for his loss and wishing she could ease it for him. ‘You didn’t set the explosion, so why are you feeling guilty and putting yourself in exile? You should be in Xandar, showing those fundamentalists—or whoever it was that did it—that they aren’t going to win. You should be organising the rebuilding of the unit for all those children that need it…all the Abirs and Neelas and Jasmines who can’t come to a small unit in Cornwall, no matter how good it is.’

  Emily believed so passionately in what she was saying that Zayed could almost see sparks flying off her as she took him to task.

  She was an amazing woman, so open and generous…and magnificent in her fierceness.

  If they had met in another place, another time…another life, he would have done everything in his power to make her his, because with a woman like her at his side there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish.

  Just look at all the things she managed to cram into each and every day.

  Not content with a busy and demanding career, she was arriving early for her shift each day to spend extra time with their little patients so that their bewildered parents would be relaxed enough with her to voice their fears. Then she was hurrying back to Penhally to spend time with her grandmother, often returning several times during the evening to take advantage of the increasingly brief spells between her morphine-induced sleep.

  She hadn’t even bothered to ask for permission to visit his home after that first time, simply assuming that she would be welcome to join in the nightly mayhem of story time and lingering long enough to give every child a moment or two of gentle attention, playing with them and cuddling them while they settled down for the night so that their parents and carers could have time for a little adult conversation.

  And then there was her determination to be present on the beach each evening to watch over him.

  He sighed inwardly, still unable to work out how he felt about that insistence.

  His male pride wanted to be offended that she was implying that he might be unable to take care of himself, even as his common sense told him that it was taking unnecessary risks to swim alone, no matter that the beach at Penhally was hardly a remote location.

  The one emotion that he hadn’t allowed himself to examine was the feeling of pleasure that came over him at the thought that she might care enough about him as an individual to be concerned about his safety, and that was crazy.

  The last thing he should want was for Emily to grow to care about him, knowing that he couldn’t offer her anything in return. He just didn’t have it in him any more and she was a person who deserved the best of everything.

  So, even though she was sitting on his bed, close enough to touch, close enough to breathe in the sweet musky scent of her body that never completely disappeared even under the tang of sea water, even though he would like nothing more than to pull her into his arms and never let her go, he had to try to keep a professional distance between them, for both their sakes.

  But that didn’t mean that he could help himself from loving the way she related to every one of the children, and the quietly steadfast way she showed her love and care for her grandmother, even though having to watch her die by inches was devastating her.

  The last couple of days he’d even timed his departure from St Piran’s so that he could follow her to the hospice, then waited out of sight until she emerged to make her way to the beach with the few stray tears that escaped her steely control already streaking her cheeks.

  He’d discovered by accident just how close she was to tears after each visit and wanted to be there for her, but unless she granted it to him, he had no right to intrude on her private misery.

  ‘Zayed?’ The uncertain tone in her voice and the shadows that were gathering rapidly in the room were the only things that told him that he’d allowed the silence to stretch between them for far too long.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘Your words made me think and my thoughts took me in many directions…the explosion…the unit…your grandmother.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot!’ she exclaimed. ‘Beabea asked particularly if you would come to visit her tonight. She seemed fairly insistent but, of course, only if you have the time. It might mean waiting until she wakes up because she’s pretty much drifting in and out at the moment, and—’

  ‘Emily, it is all right. I would be honoured to visit her again,’ he interrupted with a smile. He enjoyed her grandmother’s spiky sense of humour, which even terminal cancer couldn’t take away. It didn’t matter that he felt wary of the keen way she watched him each time he visited, as though she were dissecting him right to the bone. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she possessed the facility for reading minds, the way his own grandmother had seemed to.

  ‘When did you want to go?’ he asked, relieved to have a chance to draw some sort of a line under their emotionally fraught conversation this evening. He had never spoken of those events to anyone before and the painful experience had left him feeling drained and on edge.

  Then there was the danger that the longer he spent in Emily’s company, the more likely it would become that he’d make a slip and reveal how he really felt about her. ‘We could leave now, if you like,’ he offered, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.

  The expression in those clear green eyes told him that she knew exactly why he was so keen to go, and left him with the uncomfortable feeling that yet again he was guilty of cowardice.

  His first look at her grandmother’s face told him that the end was very close and for a moment he wondered whether he ought to excuse himself and leave the room to give the two of them some precious private time together.

  Then she opened her eyes and fixed him with a surprisingly alert gaze, almost as if she’d known what he was thinking.

  ‘Come…closer,’ she mouthed faintly, beckoning with a single skeletal finger to make the point.

  When he would have demurred, directing Emily to stand closer instead, a glimmer of the fire he’d seen so often in her granddaughter’s eyes flashed at him, telling him without words that he was the one she wanted to talk to first.

  She started to speak, but her voice was so insubstantial that he could barely hear it.

  Frustrated, she stabbed an imperious finger into the bedclothes, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to sit close beside her.

  ‘You…’ she breathed when he leaned as close as he could without crowding her, concerned that she was already struggling for breath, even with the assistance of supplemental oxygen. ‘You are…a good man,’ she declared in a way that forbade him to argue with her, no matter how much he might want to set the record straight. ‘You’ve…been hurt…’ she continued laboriously, ‘been sad…but it’s time…’

  ‘Time?’ He knew that Emily hadn’t had a chance to tell her grandmother anything of their conversation this evening, and was uncomfortable with the idea that the older woman could tell so much about him. Perhaps she could read his mind, but he certainly couldn’t read hers.

  ‘Time…to forgive…yourself,’ she whispered. ‘Time…to go on…with your life.’ She fumbled for his hand, her own feeling almost as weightless as a baby bird in his as she trapped his gaze with a fierce intensity that he wouldn’t have believed she was still capable of. ‘Promise me…’ she said. ‘You must promise…you will…take care of…my Emily…’

  Those simple words sent fear flooding through him, choking him so that he couldn’t utter a single word to deny her.

  But he couldn’t be responsible for taking care of Emily. It wasn’t right that she should ask him. He couldn’t take care of anyone—he’d already proved that when he’d let Leika and Kashif die.

  ‘Promise me…’ she demanded with all the energy she could summon, and suddenly he knew that, no matter how much he wanted to…no matter how much he should…he couldn’t refuse what m
ight be her dying wish.

  ‘I promise,’ he said, even as despair crept into his soul with the realisation that he had just vowed to do the impossible.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BEABEA beckoned Emily to her then and, regardless of the fact that it meant she was almost plastered against Zayed’s side, she hurried forward and leant as close as she could.

  ‘I…love you…darling girl,’ she managed, but Emily could tell that it was becoming harder and harder for her to form the words. She seemed to be so desperately tired that everything was becoming a real struggle.

  ‘I know, Beabea,’ she reassured her, stroking the tissue-paper-fine skin on the back of her hand and trying to ignore the unhealthy yellow colour of the jaundice that signalled the severity of her liver failure. ‘I’ve always known. And I love you, too. Now, you get a good night’s sleep and we can talk again in the morning.’

  She bent to press a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek and when she straightened up, she noticed that those faded blue eyes were focusing first on Zayed’s face, then on hers.

  A sweet smile just lifted the corners of her mouth as she closed her eyes.

  ‘No more…talk…I’ve said…all that needed…to be said,’ she managed with what sounded almost like satisfaction before her hand relaxed its grip in Emily’s.

  ‘She’s asleep,’ Zayed whispered, and Emily realised that her sudden panic must have shown in her face. ‘Her heart is still beating,’ he pointed out, indicating the pulse still beating at her grandmother’s throat. But not for long, was the silent rider that he didn’t need to say aloud.

  Emily waited until they were outside the hospice wing, standing by their respective cars, before she tackled him about the private conversation he’d had with her grandmother.

  ‘Beabea was speaking so softly that I couldn’t hear what she was saying to you,’ she said, suddenly realising that she sounded quite stiff with the resentment that he’d taken up some of her precious time with her grandmother. ‘What were the two of you talking about?’

  Zayed’s eyes looked almost black in the shadows this far away from the security lights and his expression was totally unreadable as she waited for him to speak.

  Instead, there was a sudden call from the door they’d only recently exited.

  ‘Emily!’ called the sister on night duty who had only just wished them goodnight as they’d passed her desk. She beckoned. ‘You’d better come in, quickly. Your grandmother’s taken a turn for the worse.’

  ‘Beabea!’ Emily exclaimed frantically as she whirled and started to run.

  It was a short corridor but it felt as if the faster she ran the further away her grandmother’s door became until Zayed caught her hand and ran beside her.

  Emily wasn’t quite sure how he came to be beside her or how she came to be holding his hand so tightly, but she was very aware that having Zayed with her was her only comfort at that moment.

  Unfortunately, by the time they hurried through the door they were just in time to see the nurse release her grandmother’s wrist with a shake of her head.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, and seemed genuinely upset that the end had come so quickly—just moments after Emily had left her grandmother sleeping peacefully. ‘She was a lovely lady.’

  Emily’s legs refused to hold her for a second and she was even more grateful that Zayed was there willing to lend his strength to lower her safely into the familiar chair at the side of Beabea’s bed.

  At first glance Beabea didn’t look any different to the way she’d been when Emily had glanced back at her from the doorway just minutes ago. But there was a difference—in some indefinable way it was obvious that her grandmother just wasn’t there any more.

  Emily had expected to cry bitterly when this moment finally arrived, but she was too stunned for tears, overwhelmingly aware of an enormous feeling of loss and emptiness.

  ‘Emily? You are all right?’ Zayed asked gently, his arm tightening supportively around her shoulders. ‘Do you want me to drive you home?’

  Home? That nearly broke through the strangely echoing distance that had appeared between her and the rest of the world.

  The little cottage that she’d shared with her grandmother ever since her parents had died was Beabea’s home, and now that she was gone, it felt to Emily almost as if she didn’t have a home any more.

  ‘I can’t leave yet,’ she said in a voice that felt as if it scratched her throat on the way out. ‘There are the formalities to see to and…and…’

  ‘Shh,’ he soothed, as if he knew she was just seconds away from flying apart into a million pieces. ‘First you just need to sit here quietly with your grandmother to say your last farewell.’

  He was so understanding of the churning chaos inside her that she only just held onto her control, but the dark shadows in his eyes reminded her that the reason why he knew what she needed was because he had suffered so much worse.

  At least Beabea’s life had been long and full. Zayed’s son had hardly begun to live when his life had been snuffed out like an ephemeral candle flame.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, and hoped that the smile she managed looked a little more convincing than it felt. But she had to try. It wasn’t fair, after all the sadness he’d suffered, for him to be burdened with her unhappiness, too. It could only bring back the memories that haunted him. ‘I expect that someone on the staff here will have telephoned the surgery for someone to certify the death. Once that’s over, I’ll go home.’

  ‘Are you sure that is what you want? I do not mind waiting with you,’ he offered, and sounded as if he really meant it.

  She was so tempted to accept, knowing that just to have him by her side would make everything so much more bearable, but Beabea hadn’t raised her to be a coward.

  ‘I’m sure,’ she said quietly, and he nodded, accepting her decision.

  ‘Ring me on my mobile to tell me when you leave,’ he suggested, and when he took that first step away from her she was already wishing she could change her mind, especially when he added, ‘If you want me to come over, I will come—so you are not alone.’

  ‘Dr Tremayne’s arrived,’ Nan Yelland murmured softly, and Emily blinked. She’d completely lost track of time while she’d been sitting there, her mind wandering over so many happy memories in the years since she’d come to live with Beabea.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked, her voice sounding as rusty as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.

  ‘Nearly three o’clock,’ said a male voice in the doorway.

  For just a second her heart leapt with the hope that it would be Zayed standing there, but it was only the very tired and rumpled figure of Nick Tremayne.

  Emily smiled at him, feeling a sense of rightness that he should be the one to see Beabea for the last time. He’d been her GP ever since he’d started the practice in Penhally and her grandmother had always had a great deal of faith in him. It just wouldn’t have been the same if a stranger had performed this last duty.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any earlier, my dear,’ he said, as he placed his bag very precisely on the bedside table and released the locks. It only took him a second to find the relevant paperwork. ‘There was an accident out at the junction of Penhally View and Dunheved Road. Youngsters going too fast and one didn’t make the corner.’ He looked up with a wry twist to his mouth. ‘You’d think local lads would grow up knowing that you can never win in an argument with a Cornish stone hedge.’

  ‘Was anyone hurt?’ Emily seized on the topic to take her mind off the fact that he was treating her grandmother so impersonally. Although he was being perfectly respectful, it seemed almost as if she was no longer a person to him any more, just a routine job to be done.

  Did it seem that way simply because he was exhausted at the end of a long, traumatic day or was it perhaps a defence mechanism, his way of dealing with seeing his patients when they were no longer alive, by shutting a part of himself away inside?

  Wo
uld she ever be able to do that if they lost one of their little charges? Would that be the way she could cope with the feeling that she should have been able to do something more for them?

  ‘The passenger was trapped and it took a while to cut him free,’ he continued. ‘He’ll probably be on crutches for a while when they get his leg reassembled, but the driver was unconscious at the scene—a depressed skull fracture. We’ll just have to wait and see what St Piran’s can do with him. If it’s as bad as it looked, he might never come out of ICU, even if he makes it out of Theatre.’

  The sharp click of locks drew her attention to the fact that he’d just closed his oversized briefcase again.

  ‘I’ve done the necessary,’ he said as he turned towards her. ‘Of course, you know that there’ll be no need for a post-mortem. It wasn’t as if her death was unexpected or that the cause is in any doubt.’

  ‘No.’ Somehow Emily forced her voice to work. ‘Thank you for coming out so late,’ she added, the manners that Beabea had always insisted on a totally automatic part of her life even when everything else had been turned on its head.

  ‘Nan told me you were sitting with her and I couldn’t leave you here all night.’ He reached out an avuncular hand to pat her on the shoulder. ‘She was a lovely lady and it was always a pleasure to see her. I’m sure you’ll feel better when you’ve had a good cry, my dear. Just concentrate on the fact that she’d had a good innings—and that she was tremendously proud of you—but if you’d like me to organise some grief counselling…’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said firmly, not seeing the point. No amount of counselling would bring her grandmother back and she would rather deal with this loss the same way she’d dealt with the loss of her parents—in her own way and in her own time.