The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Good. How about an early night?’

  He hesitated, then a lazy, sexy smile escaped. ‘Sounds good.’

  That night, while they lay sated in each other’s arms, the rapist struck again...

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE evening news the next day was full of it. The girl was nineteen, a student, and had been walking home from the bus at ten-thirty after an evening class. She had been brutally raped at knife-point, it was reported, and, thanks to her clear description of the attacker, they were able to say that it was likely to have been the same man who had struck before.

  Women were advised not to go out at night alone, to stay in their cars and wait for help if they broke down, and to lock their doors and windows when they were in the house, day or night. It was an extraordinary thing, the reporter said, but the police had remarked how alike both girls were—tall, slim and with striking, long blonde hair.

  Linsey’s blood ran cold.

  So, apparently, did Matthew’s. ‘That’s it,’ he said firmly. ‘No night calls—neither you nor Rosie. Rhys and Tim and I will cover them.’

  ‘Tim will love that. He and April are just getting it together. I caught them in the treatment room the other day, in flagrante or damn nearly.’

  Matthew scowled. ‘How immoderate. They should have more self-control.’

  ‘What—like we do?’ she teased, and he flushed a dull red.

  ‘That’s different; we come up here.’

  ‘Mmm. I’m sure they all know.’

  ‘I don’t care if they do. It’s none of their business.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she soothed. ‘And I’ll be fine doing my visits, so long as I set the alarm religiously.’

  ‘No,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘Matthew—’

  ‘No.’

  The phone rang and she picked it up. ‘Linsey? What’s going on down there?’

  ‘Oh, hi, Tricia. What do you mean?’

  ‘This rapist! It sounds horrendous.’

  She looked at Matthew. ‘Mmm,’ she agreed, without giving too much away.

  ‘What do you mean, “Mmm”? He’s targeting people exactly like you, chuck. You watch your step, you hear me?’

  ‘I will. I’m very sensible. I’ll be fine.’

  There was a distinct and very unladylike snort. ‘In a pig’s eye,’ Tricia muttered. ‘You just be careful. What does Matthew think?’

  Linsey turned her back on him. ‘He’s overreacting, just like you.’

  ‘I am not,’ he growled, guessing at the topic. ‘I just don’t want to be responsible for any injury or assault to one of my colleagues—quite apart from any personal feelings I might have on the matter!’

  ‘Yes, and that’s the trouble, isn’t it?’ she snapped, sick of being mollycoddled and controlled. ‘You’re obsessed by my body, and you can’t imagine that every other man isn’t too.’

  There was a deathly hush, and then Matthew picked up his jacket and walked out without a word.

  ‘Lins?’

  She looked at the phone. ‘Oh, God, Tricia, what did I just say?’

  ‘Sounds like you just dropped a clanger.’

  She chewed her lip. ‘I think I did. God, why did I say that? I’m just as obsessed. If tall men with mid-brown hair and gun-metal eyes were being targeted, I’d have him locked up under armed guard so fast he wouldn’t know what had hit him.’

  ‘So tell him that. Go and find him and tell him you understand but that he’s being over-protective. Tell him you know it’s just because he loves you.’

  ‘But I don’t know that he does,’ Linsey said softly. ‘I really don’t. I honestly think it is just my body. Every time I open my mouth, we argue.’

  ‘You argue with me too, but I love you. You’re my best friend. Just because you’re argumentative and opinionated it doesn’t stop people loving you, Linsey.’

  Her eyes filled. ‘Thanks—I think.’

  ‘Go and find him.’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Uh-uh, not with the rapist about. He won’t have gone far. I’ll bet you he’s downstairs. I’ll speak to you later—and take care.’

  She hung up, and Linsey cradled the receiver and went slowly to the bannisters and looked over.

  He was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, hunched over, his elbows on his knees, and he looked prickly and unapproachable. Linsey forced herself to go down and sit beside him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘You’re right,’ he rasped. ‘I am obsessed by you. Obviously I crowd you. I’m sorry; I’ll keep out of your way.’

  ‘No!’ she cried out, then said, more softly, ‘No. You never crowd me. You never crowd me. I just hate it when people are over-protective because I’m a woman.’

  He turned to her. ‘You’re vulnerable, Linsey. Look at yourself.’ He picked up a lock of her hair and held it in front of her eyes. ‘You’re just like the women he’s raped. I couldn’t bear it if it happened to you—’

  She went into his arms with a little cry, and he crushed her against his chest and held her. ‘Let me look after you,’ he reasoned. ‘Just until they catch him. He’s a nut case. He might have a record—perhaps this time they’ll get something on him.’

  ‘And in the meantime I can’t do my job. That’s not fair on you and Tim and Rhys—especially Rhys. And anyway, Rosie’s going any day now so you’ll have all her workload. You can’t take on any more.’

  ‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘All right, I’ll compromise. We’ll leave it as it is, but I’ll stay here during the week, and when I’m on duty you’ll have the burglar alarm to protect you, and when you have to go out I’ll come with you.’

  ‘But you’ll be shattered.’

  ‘No. I’ll sleep in between the calls. If you’re out on your own ever I won’t sleep a wink at all. And you’ll go shopping with me, and running with me—everything. All right? If you’re outside this door between dusk and dawn, I’m with you. Agreed?’

  She tutted. ‘Whatever will the neighbours say?’ she teased.

  ‘Damn the neighbours,’ he muttered. ‘Do you agree?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I agree,’ she said softly. ‘Just for now, and just to satisfy your honour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said drily, and stood up, pulling her to her feet.

  She sparkled cheekily at him. ‘Don’t mention it.’

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘You are impossible.’

  ‘Mmm. Are you coming back up to the flat, then?’

  ‘What, and be accused of being obsessed with your body? It’s true, you know.’

  She reached up and smoothed his hair. ‘Oh, Matthew, I’m just as obsessed.’ Her fingers threaded into the soft, sleek mass and she pulled him down to her mouth.

  He groaned against her lips, but his arms came round her and lifted her against him, and only her teasing reminder of where they were and how immoderate it would be stopped him from taking her there on the stairs.

  Instead he hoisted her over his shoulder like a fireman and ran upstairs to the flat, dropping her on the bed. ‘He-man,’ she teased. ‘Well, go on, then, finish what you started.’

  He undressed her, but slowly, his eyes clouded with some haunting demon, and when he moved over her his kisses, instead of being aggressive and wildly passionate, were tender and protective. He made her feel cherished—loved.

  For the first time she cried, and he held her gently with arms like steel, and cradled her against the safety of his chest.

  Linsey found the restriction a mixed blessing. On the one hand, of course, she saw a lot more of Matthew and that had to be a plus. On the other hand she had no time on her own, no privacy, no personal space. For such an independent and undisciplined person, it was purgatory.

  Only in her surgery hours was she alone, and then Matthew wanted to discuss the patients and go over her treatment plans and possible alternatives.

 
Her minor surgery, to her annoyance, he did anyway, and she was present and assisted if it was required. As there was also a nurse there she seldom was required, and her fingers itched to get on the end of the scalpel.

  Then she had her chance. A young woman came in complaining of heavy, irregular periods of uncertain length, weight gain and headaches. She had been on the Pill for some years and had become pregnant by accident after forgetting to take it. After a termination she had had Norplant—a contraceptive implant consisting of tiny, soft, hollow rods, filled with a slow-release contraceptive, which were injected under the skin on the inside of the upper arm and provided cover for five years.

  However, it didn’t suit everybody, as was often the case with any hormone, and as a result she was having the side effects that had brought her to the surgery.

  ‘I think the implant needs to be removed,’ Linsey told her. ‘I’m sorry, because of course it is very convenient, but there’s no point making yourself ill.’

  ‘No,’ the girl agreed. ‘I felt like this once with the Pill, but of course I just stopped taking that, and I’ve heard such a lot about these rods being difficult to remove.’

  Linsey examined them and shook her head. ‘I can feel them all quite easily, although they don’t show. They should be easy to get out if they were put in right, and these do seem to have been. Who did it?’

  ‘Dr Jarvis, but I was put on your list.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s OK. We do our minor surgery together, so he’ll probably do it anyway.’

  ‘Oh,’ the girl said, ‘can’t you do it?’

  ‘I expect so. Why?’

  The girl grinned. ‘I just think you might be more gentle; not that he hurt me at all, but you being a woman...’ She shrugged. ‘It was just a thought.’

  ‘I’ll ask him. Can you come in tomorrow between eleven and eleven-thirty? Wear a T-shirt or something sleeveless so we can get at it easily. You’ll have a local anaesthetic and then we’ll make a little opening and lift the rods out one by one. There are six.’

  ‘Yes, I know. That’s fine. I’ll be here.’

  ‘And then, of course,’ Linsey said, ‘we need to decide what you’re going to use next.’

  ‘Could I have a coil?’

  ‘An IUCD? Yes, I think so. I don’t see why not. You need to be having a period to fit it—preferably a normal one, not a hormone-induced bleed like you’ve been having. Wait until you’re back to normal and then ring up on the first day of your period and make an appointment.’

  ‘And can you fit that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Linsey said definitely. Her obstetrics qualification covered her for contraceptive services, and under that umbrella she intended to take out the Norplant rods.

  She discussed it with Matthew that evening while she was under what she was fast coming to think of as house arrest.

  ‘They can be difficult to get hold of,’ he warned. ‘There’s been a lot of hoo-ha in the Press.’

  ‘But they’re so easily palpable.’

  ‘Of course—I put them in.’

  She chucked a cushion at him. ‘Matthew, I’m going crazy. I can’t do this, I can’t go there, I have to stay in—for God’s sake!’

  ‘All right,’ he agreed mildly. ‘Have a go. But I’ll be there—’

  ‘Hovering.’

  He smiled innocently. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  In the event she was quite glad to have him there, although she managed most of the rods without any trouble. One of them, though, was difficult and evasive, and although she was stubborn and opinionated she was also aware that this was her patient’s arm and she had no business scarring it for life out of pique.

  Matthew, to her annoyance, managed to locate and remove it with forceps on the second try, and she ground her teeth, smiled sweetly and thanked him.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said, eyes dancing with appreciation of her self-control.

  Later he mentioned it. ‘Don’t feel you failed because you couldn’t get that one out. There’s usually one that’s a nuisance, and you managed the others well.’

  ‘It’s fiddly, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. ‘I won’t fit it any more. I think the idea was superb and the principle’s a good one, but if there’s a problem with side effects it’s much harder to remedy than just stopping taking the Pill, and in any case it has to be removed after five years, so at some time you have to deal with the tricky business of extracting the rods. It’s just another risk to add to the existing ones of oral contraception.’

  ‘Talking of which, I’m thinking of coming off it. I’m getting fat.’

  He put his arms round her and hugged her. ‘You’re gorgeous. You’re not at all fat.’

  ‘My clothes don’t fit. Will you put me in an IUCD?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they fail.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  ‘They do. I mean it—I don’t ever want children. I’d hate you to get pregnant by accident. It’s bad enough knowing either of us could get hurt in our relationship, without introducing another innocent victim.’

  ‘So we’ll go back to condoms.’

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘I hate having anything between us.’

  ‘You can’t feel it.’

  ‘But I can.’

  She shrugged. ‘Take your choice, then, because I’m coming off the Pill.’

  He groused. ‘Take another sort.’

  ‘I don’t like mucking about with nature,’ she argued.

  ‘Then I’ll use condoms,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t want you having a coil—or a baby.’

  She felt a tiny pang, a sort of strange, almost biological regret in the region of her womb. Would he ever change his mind?

  And would he ever admit he loved her? Possibly not. ‘Isn’t it time we had another tutorial?’ she said. ‘How about non-compliance with contraceptive advice?’

  ‘Referral to the antenatal clinic, you mean?’

  And he thought she was sarcastic!

  Linsey decided she wanted to learn more about the endoscopy clinic, and so the next time they had a screening session she asked to be involved.

  Rhys was running it, and he was screening three patients for peptic ulcers before treating them for Helicobacter pylori. The procedure, a simple one requiring the patient to relax and swallow a tube with a tiny camera on the end, usually involved sedation, but, Rhys explained, because it was being carried out in the little hospital at Milhaven and not in the bigger hospital at Lymington or the even bigger teaching hospitals at Southampton, and because it was being carried out by their own family doctor, the patients rarely needed more than a local anaesthetic spray in their throats.

  ‘The infection has already been confirmed in these people through a blood test, and under normal circumstances we’d simply give them eradication therapy for the H. pylori and then follow it up with a urea breath test to see if it was eradicated. Because these patients are over forty-five, though, we routinely screen them for malignancy.’

  ‘Hence the gastroscopy.’

  ‘That’s. right. Have you done any endoscopic work in the hospital?’

  ‘A little,’ she confirmed. ‘I did tons of gastric washouts when I was in A and E, though, for overdoses.’

  ‘Want to have a go?’ he asked. They were scrubbing up for the first patient, and she was surprised he should offer her the opportunity.

  ‘Why don’t I watch the first one, and then do the second?’ she suggested.

  He chuckled. ‘Where’s your confidence? Matthew been getting at you again?’

  She laughed. ‘Matthew? I don’t know what you mean!’

  ‘So do the first.’

  She looked at him seriously. ‘You mean it, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I mean it.’

  She was touched. ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘I will—if the patient doesn’t mind.’

  The patient didn’t, and, although he gagged a little on the tube at first, she wa
s gentle and patient, Rhys held his hand and talked calmly to him, and the tube slipped easily down, giving them a clear view of the wall of his stomach. They watched the screen closely as she scanned the wall systematically until she finally found what she was looking for.

  ‘Ouch. That looks nasty—I don’t wonder you’ve been suffering,’ Rhys said with a smile. ‘Right, if we could have a little snippet of that for confirmation, Dr Wheeler?’

  She snipped a tiny portion of the ulcerated area with the biopsy instrument contained in the gastroscope, and then checked further to make sure that there were no other ulcers lurking elsewhere.

  There weren’t, and so she gently and slowly withdrew the instrument. The patient coughed and sat up, swallowing hard and shaking his head.

  ‘OK?’ Rhys asked him.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Not nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be.’ His smile was wry. “Thanks, Dr Wheeler.’

  She flashed him a smile. ‘My pleasure. I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable.’

  ‘Not at all. You were very gentle. Thank you.’

  Her smile widened. ‘Just tell the other two on the way out, would you?’

  He must have done, because once she and Rhys were ready and the instruments were sterilised and prepared the next patient came in, grinned and lay down. ‘Piece of cake, he said,’ the man told them.

  Linsey grinned. ‘Absolutely. Right, open your mouth for me and I’ll spray your throat with local anaesthetic, so you don’t feel any discomfort when the little tube goes down... Lovely, well done.’

  He swallowed it without a murmur, and they were getting on famously until she spotted the site of the problem.

  It was quite difficult to keep her face neutral. She had seen dissected stomach tumours before in anatomy classes, and during her time in surgery she had seen growths removed. Never had she seen one so large or so badly inflamed.

  ‘Right, I think we’ve found it,’ she said, looking to Rhys for confirmation.

  He nodded, his face impassive. ‘A small biopsy will confirm the diagnosis,’ he said. ‘It won’t hurt.’

  She snipped and withdrew the instrument, and, like the other man, the patient got up, smiled at them and left quite happily. Linsey looked at Rhys as the door swung shut behind him.