by Clare Revell
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Chloe answered evasively. Her phone rang and she picked it up. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Could I speak to Chloe Wilkes?”
“This is she.”
“This is Sister Edwards from Headley General ED. We have a Nigel Turner here. Your number was in his phone as the ICE contact.”
Chloe shivered as coldness ran down her spine. The ICE system, brought in after the July 7 attacks, stood for In Case of Emergency. “What happened? Is he all right?”
“It appears he was mugged. The police are on their way. He’s asking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” She hung up and looked at her parents. “I have to go. Nigel’s in hospital. He was attacked. He listed me as his emergency contact.”
Dad stood. “We’ll take you.”
Nigel’s car was still parked behind hers where he’d left it. She caught her breath. Had that been the ambulance she’d seen from the kitchen window earlier? Police officers moved around the area and flashing blue lights from the marked car gave the whole area a surreal look.
When they reached the hospital, her parents sat in the waiting area, while the nurse showed her straight through. Chloe caught her breath as she entered resus. Nigel looked dreadful. His face was swollen and bleeding. One eye was almost shut and his chest was covered in…were they boot marks? His head was in a collar still and nurses stood around the bed.
He held out his free hand. The other was in a splint. “You came. I wasn’t sure.”
“Of course I did.” She gripped his hand. He was so cold. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s what fiancées do.”
“I’ve never had one. I wouldn’t know.”
“What happened? Your car is still at my place. What have they said?” She stepped to one side as one of the nurses altered something and then left them alone.
“They think I’ve broken a couple of ribs, fractured a finger, along with various cuts, and bruises. They won’t know for sure until they’ve done x-rays and a CT scan. It could have been worse.”
Two uniformed officers came over to the bed. “Dr. Turner? I’m PC Watson, this is PC Smith.”
Nigel looked at her. “Stay. No secrets.”
“Sure.”
PC Watson looked at Chloe. “And you are?”
“Chloe Wilkes, his fiancée.”
PC Watson pulled out his notebook. “Can you tell us what happened, Dr. Turner?”
“I was leaving Chloe’s flat. I went down the stairs and outside to my car. Something hit my head and then I was on the ground and someone was kicking me. I remember a shout and the kicking stopped. Then I guess I blacked out because the next thing I remember is a paramedic leaning over me.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Ummm, there is a CCTV camera outside the flats,” Chloe said. “The housing association installed them last summer.”
The officer jotted that in his notebook. “Have you fallen out with anyone recently? Does anyone have a reason to hurt you?”
Chloe caught her breath. “You have to tell them. It’s fine.”
“Chloe’s brother isn’t happy about our engagement. We argued about it earlier this evening.”
“He thinks I’m making a mistake,” Chloe added, not wanting to get Caleb into trouble. “He just speaks before he thinks sometimes.”
The nurse came back. “I’m sorry, but we need to get Dr. Turner up to X-ray now.”
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Chloe told him. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, trying to find a part of him that wasn’t hurt.
She stood as Nigel was wheeled away. Suddenly she realized she’d come to care for this man, very, very much and she didn’t want to lose him.
10
Day 21
Monday March 5
Nigel sat in his office at work. His lectures were being covered for the rest of the semester. His ribs were strapped up, two fingers of his left hand strapped together and his face was more than a little sore. He just prayed the bruising would go down before the wedding. That was if Chloe still wanted to marry him.
She’d sent a text the day after he was beaten to say that Caleb had been picked up by the police, but she hadn’t mentioned him since. It had been almost a week, and although they texted each other two or three times a day, her texts hadn’t mentioned the upcoming wedding once. Or whether Caleb had been responsible.
Nigel reached for his phone, and tapped out another text to her. She’d get it when class finished. He hit send and glanced up as his boss, Toby, tapped on the door. “Come on in, Toby.”
“Are you sure you should be here? You still look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“I’m going stir crazy at home. And at least this way I’m catching up with my paperwork. And I’m right handed so writing isn’t a problem. Besides, I look a whole lot better than the people we normally get in here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you in a good mood?”
“Why? What have you done?”
“I know it’s short notice, but I’m going to need Easter off. Well, from the day before Palm Sunday. I’m getting married.”
“You dark horse. You kept that quiet.” Toby sat on the edge of the desk. “What’s her name?”
Nigel turned the photo on his desk around. “Chloe.”
“She looks familiar.” Toby clicked his fingers. “The ballerina. She’s really good. I have a DVD of her performing in Swan Lake at home. It’ll be on the Internet probably.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“OK. Now go home. I’ll approve your leave for two weeks honeymoon, but you take the rest of the week as sick leave.”
Not going to argue, Nigel rang James to pick him up. Archie had driven his car home, but as there was no way he could drive one handed, he was reliant on James to take him everywhere.
Once home, he sat with the laptop and searched for Chloe Wilkes and Swan Lake. He found the whole performance and settled back to watch it. He was mesmerized by the way she moved and danced. She literally became the swan. She didn’t just perform, she put her heart and soul into it and he had to wipe tears from his eyes on more than one occasion.
His phone rang. Annoyance ran through him as he paused the film. “Hello.”
“Is this a bad time to call?” Chloe’s voice jarred through him. “I got your text and thought I’d call rather than type out a really, long, involved reply.”
He softened his tone. “No. I was just watching you on the computer. I found Swan Lake on the Internet.”
She chuckled. “You must be sick.”
“In the head,” he agreed. “This bloke you’re dancing with. Is he…?”
“My ex? Yeah.”
“You shouldn’t have given up because of him. You’re really good.”
“I’m happy teaching. Actually, that’s why I’m ringing. I found someone to take over here. She started today and I leave on Friday. She might even buy it from me if she enjoys it.”
“That’s good.” Nigel stared at the frozen image on the computer. Chloe stood en pointe, her arms extended above her head.
“Can I come and see you on Saturday?”
His heart leapt. She wanted to come and see him. More than that, she’d found someone to take over her school. “Sure. That would be good.”
“I’ll need you to pick me up from the station. My car’s gone in for repairs. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”
“I can do that. Stay for the weekend. Archie wants to meet you anyway.”
“OK. Well, my train gets in at ten-thirty. I’ll see you then. And no doubt I’ll text you before then as well. It’s just I need to talk to you properly and the phone isn’t the way to do it.” She paused. “Gotta go. See you soon.”
The phone went dead and Nigel sighed, his joy deflating. She sounded off. Was she changing her mind?
The problem was part of him had begun to care for her. This was turning into more th
an a simple business arrangement. His phone beeped and he picked it up.
Don’t stress too much over me coming up. No flags needed, or red carpet. I just want to make sure you’re all right for myself as well as have a proper conversation.
11
Day 23
Wednesday March 7
Nigel tossed the remote control to the couch. There was nothing on. Again. Did people really just sit and watch this rubbish known as daytime TV? He needed to work. Needed to do something. He couldn’t just sit around the house. Maybe he’d ring his boss and arranged to go back and just sit there. He reached for the phone and scrolled through the contacts looking for Toby’s number.
He paused when he reached Chloe’s number. He couldn’t wait until Saturday to see her. He hit the video call button and waited.
It rang three times before her face appeared on the screen. A light perspiration shone on her forehead and her hair was tied back, though a few damp strands hung free. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah.” Nigel leaned back into the couch. “Bored.”
“How can you be bored with two jobs?”
“I’m on sick leave from the university until next term and from the coroner’s office until Monday. So it’s perfectly possible to be bored. And let me tell you, this drivel known as daytime TV should be banned. Or binned. Or both.”
“You should take up a hobby. Try knitting.”
Nigel snorted and waved his strapped fingers at her. “Yeah, right.”
She tilted her head and tucked the loose hair behind her ears. “Won’t they let you work one handed? OK, I can understand the post mortems would be hard, but surely you can still lecture.”
“They’re afraid I’ll frighten off the students.” Nigel tried not to look at her perfect figure, shown off in leotard and tights. “What are you doing?”
“I was excising.”
“Well, if you can talk and work out at the same time, feel free to carry on.”
“Of course. I’m expert in multitasking.” The camera wobbled and showed the floor for a few seconds. Chloe moved over to the bar. She put one leg onto it and leaned forwards.
Nigel watched in awe. “Doesn’t that hurt? Doing the splits, I mean?”
“No. I’m used to it. I wouldn’t suggest you try it though.”
He winced. “No worries on that score. I read somewhere that ballet dancers have bits of wood in their shoes. How true is that?”
“It’s a fabric box to protect our toes when we go en pointe, and we have special shoes for that. And yes, it can hurt.”
“What happened to your car?” he asked, fascinated by the shapes Chloe made as she exercised. “You said it had gone to be fixed.”
“Someone reversed into it in the car park. But it’s been written off. I only left it there for about half an hour while I went to the bank to set up that new account you wanted. I came back to find a V-shaped dent carved out of the bonnet. And as it’ll cost more to repair than it’s worth…” She sighed.
“Did you get the license plate of the other car?” His heart pounded. “It’s a good job you weren’t in it at the time. You could have been killed.”
“But, I wasn’t. The police got CCTV images and are dealing with it. However, two hundred and fifty quid won’t get me a new car. At least I live close enough to work to walk. Changing the subject, we still have snow here. My parents have three-foot long icicles hanging from their roof.”
“We have a little, but not as much now. Snow on the beach was interesting to see. I don’t ever remember that happening before.”
“Now that is something I’d love to see.” She stood upright for a moment, before putting her other leg onto the bar.
“I’ll send you some pictures.” Nigel paused. “It’s weird. I’ve known you, what is it now? Three weeks?”
She nodded. “Three weeks today.”
“And I’ve met you a total of four times.”
“Four?” She frowned. “It’s three. You showed up here on Ash Wednesday. Then on the twentieth. And last Tuesday when we signed the contracts.”
“Four. You came to the ED.”
“But that was still Tuesday and technically you hadn’t left town. Maybe we call it three and a half times, but then we’ve texted constantly. What have you been doing with your time off?”
He chuckled, then wished he hadn’t as his ribs complained. “I finished Swan Lake,” he said, still mesmerized by the way she moved. “I loved it. Have you done anything else?”
“Lots. They haven’t all been filmed, but the Nutcracker was on the TV one Christmas and should be around somewhere.”
“I’ll have a look. Would you dance for me?”
“Now?” Chloe frowned.
“Yeah.”
“Ummm…” She glanced at her watch. “OK. I have a few minutes.” She reached over the screen and turned on the music. Then she rose and moved to the center of the room.
Nigel hit record and watched mesmerized by her performance. The fluid movement and shapes she formed held him entranced. Even though it was only her on the screen, he could understand the story she was telling.
Her face filled the screen again. “Nigel...Are you OK?”
He reached up, about to tell her he was, only his fingers came away damp. “I’m fine.”
“You should take the pain meds the doctor gave you.”
Relieved she thought it was only pain and not mesmerized by intense emotions the beauty of her performance had produced in him, Nigel nodded. “I will. The doctor reckons the ribs will heal on their own. And I’m hoping the bruises will be gone by the wedding. Otherwise, I’ll look a sight in the photos.”
“If not you’ll be wearing more makeup than me.”
“What are you doing about a dress? They aren’t cheap. I can put some money into the account for you.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t want a white sequined meringue thing. I was thinking more simple, practical, and reusable, with a hat and matching shoes. Mum is going shopping with me next week.”
“What about bridesmaids?”
“I don’t have any. As it stands right now Caleb and Vicky aren’t coming. He’s not even speaking to me.”
His stomach knotted. “Is that because of me?”
“No. It’s because the cops hauled him in and questioned him for hours. CCTV isn’t enough to either clear or convict him as there were two blokes apparently. Caleb says it wasn’t him, but he doesn’t deny being there or being mad at the both of us.” She paused and glanced behind her. “OK, time to go. Class is assembling.”
“Are you still coming down on Saturday?”
She blew a kiss towards the screen. “Try stopping me. Bye.”
Nigel closed the window as the call ended. Blowing kisses? She must have had someone else come into the room. When did talking to her become so effortless? And since when did he need to see her that much?
He searched on line and ordered a DVD of her performance in the Nutcracker. He couldn’t wait to see her again and hit the playback on the tablet, watching her dance again. It was like she were a drug and he was now addicted to her. Part of him said besotted, the other half dismissed the idea.
12
Day 26
Saturday March 10
Nigel stood on the station concourse waiting for Chloe’s train. Archie had insisted on driving him to help with the bags. His heart leapt as he saw the now familiar brunette moving through the crowds towards him, a case in one hand and a bag in the other.
He moved to meet her. Hugging her gently, he kissed her forehead. “Hello. How was the journey?”
“It was good. No delays for once.”
“Can’t you do better than that?” Archie asked from behind him. “She’s your fiancée. She deserves more than a peck on the cheek.”
“Sorry,” Nigel whispered, rolling his eyes. He gently kissed her lips, not expecting the thrill that ran through him. He looked at
her, seeing the same thing echoed in her gaze. Somehow he managed to breathe. “Chloe Wilkes, this is my brother Archie.”
Chloe held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”
“You’re not Scottish,” Archie replied. “Nigel said you lived there with your sick mother.”
“My mother is fine.”
Nigel coughed, trying to get her attention. She needed to stick to the cover story.
Chloe shook her head. “I think you’re getting me confused with someone else. I live and work in Berkshire. I teach ballet.”
Archie’s eyes widened. “You’re the Chloe Wilkes?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Archie hit Nigel’s shoulder. “Nice catch, bro. Come on. Let’s get back to the house.”
Nigel shook his head. “Actually, Chloe and I need to talk and we have some shopping to do. Like buying wedding rings.”
“You have plenty of time for that after lunch.”
“We also need to finalize the wedding with Gretna Green,” Chloe said. She looked even less keen than Nigel felt. So at least it wasn’t just him who didn’t want to go back to the house. “Tell them the names of people who are coming for the rooms we’ve booked for the overnight stay.”
“Yes, I know about the wedding. Palm Sunday in Scotland. I’ve booked a private jet to get us all up there, including your family and our lawyer. I’ll need to know where you’re honeymooning so I can get the flight plan set. You are taking the private jet, aren’t you?”
Nigel knew this would happen. From the moment Archie got involved, the whole thing would snowball out of control. “Actually, no we’re not. Chloe and I have already made our travel arrangements. We need to finalize that as well.”
He glanced at Chloe. She seemed ill at ease. Was it his bruises or cast or something else? Like the lies he was caught up in. He’d intended to be honest with everyone, but never found the time to do so. It was like he was being eaten away inside, his joy eroded. He’d even found praying hard and that was most unlike him.
However, until he got Chloe alone to talk, there was no way of finding out what was upsetting her.
