A welcome to the area? Something for her? She was intrigued. Whatever could it be?
She knew no one locally, had not yet gone out of her way to make friends. Did she want a caller? Especially a man as attractive as Dr Luc Laforge? Still…he was to be her boss. This could be seen as just a professional courtesy. ‘That sounds very nice,’ she said, ‘and I’d like you to call. When would suit you best?’
‘Please! I have invited myself, you must pick the time.’
‘Why don’t you come about half past three? To a very English afternoon tea? You do drink tea? You’re not a completely coffee man?’
‘I think English tea is one of the great gifts your country has given the world. I love it. So I’ll see you at half past three?’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Kelly said, and rang off.
This was something new to think about. She found that her coffee-pot was cold, decided to percolate just one cup more. She walked to the kitchen, frowned as she ran water into the percolator.
Dr Luc Laforge wanted to call on her. He wasn’t coming here to talk about work, he had a mysterious present for her. But she knew that there was more to him coming than that.
There had been that awareness, that shiver of knowledge between them. He was a man, she was a woman. For a moment something had reached out from each of them. It had been a slight, tentative feeling. But there had been a strength to it that had surprised her. Each had found the other attractive. She wanted to know more about this man. To see if their very different personalities could have something in common.
Then she laughed, without much humour. She had been caught this way before, had learned a bitter lesson. So she wanted there to be nothing between her and this man but a professional relationship. She wanted there to be nothing between her and any man.
Still…behind her she could hear the percolator starting to bubble. The cheerful sound made her spirits rise. Perhaps, soon, she could bubble too.
He was calling that afternoon. A young gentleman—well, youngish—calling on a young—well, youngish—lady. It all seemed very Jane Austen. Perhaps it would be more proper if she had a chaperone! A chaperone! For a woman who had been through what she had! Kelly giggled. Then she thought. It had been too long since she had managed to giggle. Perhaps things were looking up.
Had afternoon tea been the right thing to offer him? She hadn’t thought what might be suitable, the idea of afternoon tea had just emerged. Anyway, in the middle of the afternoon she couldn’t offer alcohol. And not a full meal either—they were not on lunch or dinner terms yet. She had decided to be soundly English, offer him tea. Perhaps she’d better get back down to the baker’s and buy a selection of cakes. They were gorgeous.
Next problem. What to wear? Jeans or shorts and T-shirt or sweater were all very well, but something told her that he would not come dressed casually. She needed a dress but then blanched as she thought of her wardrobe. She had come here to relax, to work part time in the surgery, to be simply her own self. A social life had been the last thing she had expected. So…she had suitable clothes for working in, suitable clothes for walking in, but the only thing vaguely smart was one summer dress. A white one. And that would need ironing, she’d never taken it out of her case.
What about make-up? And then she did laugh. All she had used for the last few months had been sunblock. And that had been quite sufficient. But now…perhaps she would make a bit of an effort. There was a chemist in the village, she could buy a coral lipstick and some black mascara. And perhaps an expensive scented shampoo.
She was almost looking forward to this visit. She wondered why.
Luc blinked. This was a different woman! No, she was not different, she was the same woman he had thought of all night. But she was different.
Her face was as beautiful as ever, her body just as supple, as rounded. So what had changed? Not much, he realised. A very feminine white dress, just a touch of make-up and a slightly different hairstyle. What was different was her attitude. Before she had been the complete professional, concerned only with her work. But now she was a woman, not a doctor.
‘Do come in, Dr Laforge. It’s not too warm, I thought we might have tea on the terrace. You did mean it when you said you liked tea?’
‘I did. Tea would be most pleasant.’ He stepped into her living room, took a hand from behind his back. ‘I’ve brought you some flowers. They are from my garden.’ He handed her a bunch of roses in shades of red and yellow.
‘They’re lovely! And from your own garden! Dr Laforge, how good of you.’
He saw that her delight was genuine and it pleased him. ‘I don’t have much time to garden myself,’ he said. ‘I have to say that my gardener is responsible for these.’
‘But you brought them. Come through to the terrace and I’ll put them in water.’
He followed her through the living room. He had been in the cottage before, visiting Joe. And it interested him to notice that the living room was entirely unchanged. Dr Blackman had made no effort to imprint her own character on the room. If anything, she appeared to have gone to some trouble to keep it exactly as it had been. Yes, interesting.
He recognised that she was a bird of passage, ready to fly when her time was done.
He thought she was a woman who would recognise, would respond to signs. So he wasn’t wearing his usual, non-professional casual clothes. He wore a light grey linen suit, a dark blue silk shirt. He wanted to appear as a man who had thought about the woman he was visiting, who saw this visit as an important one. When she had opened the door to him he had noticed the way her eyes had flicked over him, then the guarded expression of approval.
She led him to the terrace, where two chairs and a table waited ready for them. ‘If you would like to wait here a minute I’ll see to the flowers and fetch the tea. I have it all ready.’
He knew better than to offer to help. Well, on the first visit anyway.
She served the tea with some formality and he appreciated it. A proper teapot, cups and saucers, a plate of cakes. She asked him how he liked it, poured the tea, offered him a cake and then the niceties were over. What were they to talk about?
He had decided as he’d driven here that there was something that had to be settled at once.
‘I very much like English tea,’ he said. ‘For some time I was married to an English girl and…well, it all ended nastily. We are now divorced. For me, the only good thing to come out of it was my daughter and a taste for tea.’
‘I see. A divorce from an English girl. When you met an English woman yesterday, was that why you were less than pleased?’
He winced. He hadn’t realised that he was so transparent. ‘Possibly so. If that is how I appeared then I must apologise. I should not be prejudiced. And I saw quickly that you were a very efficient doctor.’ He paused and then said meaningfully, ‘Dr Blackwood.’
She laughed at that. ‘You feel that by now we should have gone beyond formality? Then call me Kelly and I will call you Luc.’ She leaned over, offered him her hand.
‘Good to meet you, Kelly.’ A warm hand, a firm grip. He didn’t want to let go and he wondered if she felt the same. But…whatever this was, this should be taken slowly. For the moment keep things casual, light-hearted. After all, he didn’t even know what he wanted! ‘As ever, your English tea is superb,’ he said. ‘But I detect that the cakes are French. From our local boulangerie.’
‘And very fine they are. But if my mother had known you were coming to tea she would have baked you scones. You’ve had English scones?’
‘Well, yes.’
Kelly laughed again. ‘Your lack of enthusiasm is obvious. But I can assure you that the Blackman scones are good.’
‘Then I would like to try them. Perhaps next time?’
This was only meant to be a single visit, just a welcome to her. But now he had indicated that he wanted to call again. How would she react? He could tell that she realised the importance of what he had just suggested. ‘Per
haps,’ she said. Well, that was better than nothing.
He decided to move onto safer topics. ‘I want to tell you a little about the accident,’ he said. ‘First, no one was seriously hurt. All the girls but one are now out of hospital. But secondly…the one little girl still in hospital is the one who was concussed. Whose head was bleeding so badly. Your bandaging turned what could have been a dangerous injury into one that was just serious. Both the hospital staff and myself were very impressed. You could tell this is the kind of work you’ve done before.’
Her reply was more shocking because it came out so casually. ‘As a field doctor in the army, sometimes I had to work in an actual field.’
He recognised her confidence. This woman knew her own worth.
‘Of course, we doctors come across a variety of problems. Anyway, the headmistress of the school asked me to give you her thanks in person. Those thanks I do give. Now, on to more tedious matters.’
He fumbled in his pocket, took out a sheaf of papers. ‘I suspect that British beaurocracy is as awkward as French beaurocracy. I spent more time filling in forms about that accident than we spent dealing with it. But I have to ask you again. The headmistress asked me to submit a bill for what I did. In fact, she demanded that I submit a bill. And she says you too are entitled to payment.’
‘If there has to be payment, you have it or let the school keep it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘As you pointed out, I am not yet insured to practise medicine in France.’
‘I will pass on your message. So, business over. Please, may I have more tea?’ He was enjoying his drink.
They chatted for a few minutes more, talking easily, happily. Then he knew he had to go, he had calls to make, things to do. He stood, and as he did so there was a knock at the door. Kelly went to answer it, came back with a thick packet liberally covered with stamps. ‘My mail,’ she said. ‘When I was out yesterday, my neighbour next door took it in for me. Dr Cameron collects it, sends it on in bulk. Excuse me a minute. There’s a journal he said he’d send me.’
She pulled at the packet edge, spilled letters, cards and wrapped magazines onto the table. First, he saw her reach for a journal—but as she did so her wrist brushed a letter into sight. It seemed just an ordinary letter—but the address was written in green ink.
He heard her gasp. He looked at her face. Suddenly it was white. For the moment he was forgotten, he saw her grab the letter, tear it open. There was just one sheet of paper inside—also written in green ink. She read it. Then her eyes closed and she grasped the table for support.
He thought to move round, perhaps to hold and comfort her. Then something told him that that was the last thing that she needed.
Her eyes opened. Unfocussed, she looked at him and he could tell that it took her a while to realise who he was. Then she slumped into her chair. He looked at her a moment longer, then found his way into her kitchen, fetched her a glass of water. ‘This might help,’ he said.
She drank the water. Then she shook her head, obviously trying to get a grip of her whirling emotions.
‘You have had bad news,’ Luc said. ‘Is there any way I can help or would it be better if I left you alone?’
‘Perhaps you had better go now. Thank you for calling, Dr Laforge.’
So he was Dr Laforge again. ‘Could I call again? Perhaps tomorrow?’
‘I don’t think there’s much point. We’ll have to work together but I believe it is probably best to keep social life and professional life separate. Goodbye, Dr Laforge.’
‘Goodbye, Dr Blackman…Kelly. I trust you will be well soon. I’ll let myself out.’
Just before he closed the door he looked back at her. She was crouched in her chair, tearing the letter into pieces…smaller and smaller pieces until there were only tiny fragments left. He sighed. He wanted to go back, to help her, comfort her. But he knew it would be no use.
Kelly sat motionless for the next half-hour, eyes clenched shut, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in her lap. Then she opened her eyes, looked around her. The sun shone, there was a breeze bringing countryside scents into her garden, somewhere a bird sang. And around the feet of her chair were scattered fragments of paper—some showing the telltale green ink.
Gary’s full name was Gary Green. He had always written his letters with green ink, he thought it made people remember him. What a stupid idea!
The tiny scraps looked like confetti, she thought. The stuff people threw around at weddings. She had thought that when she married Gary, they would have had confetti thrown at them. Not any more.
They had been going to get married. She’d worn the engagement ring, they had booked the church, organised the reception, had been making a list of guests. All right, she hadn’t been herself, she had still been ill. But she would soon have recovered. And if Gary had been ill she would have stood by him. But Gary hadn’t been up to that. So they had broken up, finally, irrevocably, three months ago. Three short months! And now Gary had written to say he had found another fiancée, they were engaged, going to get married quite soon. He thought Kelly ought to know. Three months! Was that all that the memory of their love was worth?
And this message had come just as her life was on an even keel again, when there might be a hope of happiness for her. Happiness? She’d settle for normality. So what should she do? She’d fight on.
Work was the answer. She fetched brush and pan, swept up the remains of Gary’s letter and dropped them in the fireplace. Then she set light to them. Let them disappear into smoke.
She checked the other contents of her packet from Joe—nothing of great importance.
Then there were the tea dishes to clear away. After that she would go for another walk—a good long lonely one, ten miles at least. The fatigue afterwards always made her feel better.
But as she was clearing away, something struck her. She had told Luc that there was no point in them meeting again until she started work. Just the opposite of what she had been going to say before the letter had arrived. Why should Gary be the one to make her change her mind about things? And she had acted towards Luc…well, gracelessly would be one way of putting it. Rudely would be another. She was her own woman now. She would put things right with him.
The walk did improve her mood. Perhaps she was getting better. So as soon as she had showered and changed she took Luc’s card from where she had placed it on the mantelshelf. A moment of indecision. Then she phoned him on his mobile.
‘Dr Laforge…Luc? It’s…it’s Kelly.’
His reply was warm, eager. ‘Kelly! How are you? I’m so glad you phoned. I was worried about you.’
‘I’m sorry about that. A bit of my past came up to haunt me and I’m afraid I took it out of you. I’m phoning to apologise, I’m not usually so unpleasant.’
‘You weren’t being unpleasant. You were hurt, I could tell. You felt that nobody in the entire world was worth bothering about, that when you thought you were getting over things, they suddenly got worse again. And that was the last straw.’
Kelly was intrigued. ‘That’s exactly right. How did you know that?’
It was a moment before he answered. ‘I’ve been there myself, sometimes I think I still am there. Do I take it that it was a letter from an ex-lover?’
‘We were engaged. He broke it off. Now he writes to say that he’s soon going to get married. Only three months after our break-up!’
Luc’s voice was sympathetic. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? You try to persuade yourself that he was not worth the trouble, that you’re well rid of him, that you’ll do better next time. And then you remember one of those perfect days you spent together and you’re inconsolable again.’
‘Right,’ said Kelly. How did he know her thoughts so well? She was intrigued. But now came what she had thought would be the hard part—but, in fact, she now didn’t feel too bad about it. ‘Luc, I told you that there was no point in you calling again, but if you’d like ever to call round again—as a friend—you’d be very welcome. You
didn’t even get to finish your tea.’
‘I’d love that! Is tomorrow afternoon too soon? Say, about three again?’
‘Not at all. I’d be pleased to see you.’ The idea made her both embarrassed and excited.
‘Just one thing, then. Since you’ve got plenty of notice, any chance of me trying one of the scones your mother was famous for?’
‘I think it could be arranged,’ she said.
Luc put down the phone and smiled and then frowned. What was he doing? He was happy because of the invitation, he wanted to see more of Kelly. He was not quite sure why. She was a very attractive woman—he enjoyed her company. He could persuade himself that all he was doing was welcoming a colleague to the neighbourhood. But…when his wife had finally left him he had decided that women were not for him. They only brought heartbreak. He would live with and for his daughter, they would be happy together.
So why was he looking forward so much to meeting Kelly again?
CHAPTER THREE
KELLY answered the phone the next morning and when she heard Luc’s voice she was worried at once. What if he couldn’t come? Then she wondered why she was so worried about a man she had barely met.
‘Kelly—perhaps I’d better call you Dr Blackman—I have a favour to ask you.’
‘Yes?’ Kelly said carefully. She didn’t want to rush into anything. She wasn’t yet sure what kind of relationship she wanted to have with Luc. She had learned to be cautious.
‘I’ve had a phone call from a woman who lives in Riom. She lives very close to you—about a kilometre away. She says her fourteen-year-old son has bruised his chest and is having difficulty breathing and she wants me to come out to see him. Now, we’re busy today. I know the family, both mother and son exaggerate their troubles. I’ve been called out at midnight because the son was having a bad coughing fit.’
‘You want me to go down there and deal with the problem,’ Kelly guessed.
The Country Doctor's Daughter Page 3
