The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Get in.’

  ‘Yessir,’ she said smartly, and climbed in, sitting down gingerly in the piping hot water. ‘Oh, bliss.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He sat down with equal caution, turned on the bubbles and lay back with a sigh.

  Their legs were tangled, hers between his, her toes tucked under his bottom. ‘This is wonderfully decadent,’ she mumbled sleepily, and wriggled her toes.

  ‘All thanks to Joe. I would never have dreamed of being so self-indulgent, but I have to say there are times when it has its uses.’

  She lifted her lids and looked at him. His gun-metal eyes were smoky-grey, smouldering with something primitive and possessive. She pulled her toes out from under his buttocks and walked them upwards, exploring his delicate masculine anatomy with curiosity.

  He watched her, eyes hooded, and shifted one leg so that his toes could do a little exploring of their own.

  Her eyes widened. How could he be so skilful with his toes? She laid the curve of her instep over the tempered steel of his response and slid her foot gently up and down.

  He groaned and shifted, pulling her into his arms. ‘Come here, witch. I need you,’ he murmured, and without another word he drew her over him and guided her into position, then slid home with a sigh. ‘Kiss me,’ he ordered, and she bent forwards, her wet hair surrounding them, and took his mouth in a greedy, demanding kiss that escalated their loving from a mild and curious play to a blinding passion within seconds.

  The bubbles stopped, but they didn’t notice. Finally her skin grew cold and he eased her down beside him into the water, pressing the switch again.

  The bubbles rose up, tickling them with warm air, easing out the stresses of the evening. He turned it on again twice more, then reluctantly helped her out of the bath and took her to bed.

  ‘Is the surgery all secure?’ he asked, and she nodded. He made no further reference to the fact that she was there with him and not at the surgery, but she couldn’t just let it go so easily.

  ‘Matthew, I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, her hand resting on his chest. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like it did. Of course I don’t want to be raped, but I’m just feeling so restricted.’

  ‘I understand. I’m sorry too. I’ll try and give you more freedom, but it really is important at the moment to look after you. Just wait until he’s caught.’

  She thought of her confinement, then of the terrible aching sense of loss when Matthew had gone.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll wait.’

  And then, she thought, I’ll see if he still wants to be around...

  Christmas was rushing up at twice the speed of light. For Rhys, who was struggling to cope with a demanding job and three even more demanding children, it meant a few blissful days off with his parents in Salisbury. He hadn’t wanted to ask for the time, but Matthew had insisted.

  Linsey wanted to stay with Matthew, and anyway, her parents were off on Boxing Day on a cruise, enjoying their early retirement. Tim was so wrapped up with April that they were more of a hazard than an asset, and so Matthew decided that he would cover Christmas Day and Boxing Day, sharing the daytime calls with Linsey. Where possible they would ask people to attend the surgery, and they would just hope everyone was so busy having a good time that they had some peace.

  ‘We’ll have two days off at the cottage afterwards,’ he promised.

  They were out of luck. The calls started in the wee small hours of Christmas morning, and went on without rest until ten.

  Then, as Matthew pointed out cynically, everybody’s guests were arriving and so they were too busy to disturb the doctor any more.

  He refused to go to bed again but instead sat in a chair, a cup of coffee in his hand, and dozed off. Linsey removed the cup carefully and let him sleep. She had a present for him—a lovely, soft cashmere sweater that had cost half her salary but was so wonderful that she hadn’t been able to resist it. It could wait until he was awake.

  The phone rang and he mumbled something and cracked an eye open.

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ she told him firmly, and took the details. It was the neighbour of an elderly lady who had been feeling a little off colour. Could the doctor please come; the neighbour was going out for the day and was a bit worried about leaving her.

  Linsey went out, enjoying the fresh air. It was a lovely day—bright and sunny although it was cold. Perhaps they’d take the mobile phone and go for a walk after Matthew woke up.

  She found the elderly patient’s house and parked outside, then rang the bell. She heard a feeble voice calling, then tried the door and found it open.

  ‘Hello,’ she called as she went in. ‘It’s Dr Wheeler.’ ‘Up here, dear,’ the voice warbled. ‘I’m in the front room.’

  The house smelt of stale urine, Linsey noticed, and a pair of sticks stood at the bottom of the stairs. A quick glance in the kitchen showed that it was reasonably tidy but the gas ring looked ancient and dangerous, and she wondered how long the patient had been incontinent.

  She ran upstairs and into the bedroom, and was nearly overwhelmed by the smell. ‘Hello, there. Happy Christmas. I gather you’re not feeling good.’

  ‘Oh, I’m better now,’ the old lady told her. ‘Oh, I had such a bad day yesterday—I felt really off colour. Then in the night I had this sharp pain, right low down—you know, dear, there,’ she explained in a raspy whisper. ‘Oh, it did hurt. Then this morning I was lying on something and I found this.’

  She produced a rough yellow object the thickness of a finger and about two inches long and handed it to Linsey. ‘I can’t imagine what it is,’ she said bluntly, ‘but I’m better off without it, I can tell you.’

  Linsey stared at the object in amazement. ‘Miss Lucas, it’s a bladder stone,’ she told her. ‘You must have had it in there for ages.’

  The woman blinked. ‘Well, how did it get out?’

  Linsey wasn’t sure, short of a miracle. ‘You must have passed it. Perhaps I’d better have a look at you and make sure you aren’t torn.’

  ‘What, down there?’ She looked scandalised.

  ‘Miss Lucas, it’s all right; I’m a doctor,’ Linsey said gently.

  The elderly woman blushed. ‘Well, if you have to. Oh, I never thought I’d have to go through anything like this.’

  She submitted to the examination with profuse embarrassment, and Linsey was glad to get it over quickly. The smell in the bed was too awful to bear.

  She looked around the bleak and empty room, and then back to the frail old lady in the bed. Was this going to be her Christmas? ‘Are you doing anything today, Miss Lucas?’ she asked her.

  ‘No, dear. Nothing. Why?’

  ‘Well, because if it wouldn’t interfere with your plans I wondered if we wouldn’t be better to let you spend a day or two in the cottage hospital, just to get over the experience. You’d have someone to cook your meals, and you’d be able to rest and get properly better.’

  Her wrinkled, rheumy eyes brightened immediately. ‘I wouldn’t want to be a bother,’ she said briskly, but Linsey could see that the idea had appeal.

  ‘It’s no bother, not for anybody. You’ll get a nice Christmas lunch there today, as well.’

  She definitely brightened at that. Linsey arranged for her admission, and while they waited for the ambulance she helped Miss Lucas find a few things and put them in a case. Then she went home and changed her clothes, throwing the smelly ones in the bin.

  Matthew came out of the sitting room, sniffing. ‘Have you wet yourself?’

  ‘And Happy Christmas to you too. No, I’ve been with a patient. She passed this in the night.’

  She handed Matthew the bladder stone which she had in her pocket.

  ‘Good God. Is she split in half?’

  Linsey chuckled. ‘No, but she wasn’t keen to let me look at her. She was amazingly unscathed. I gave her some antibiotics and I think she’ll be fine.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Miss Lucas.’

&nbs
p; ‘Really? She’s as nutty as a fruit-cake. What did you do with her?’

  She smiled. ‘I admitted her to Milhaven. That way she gets a bath, a Christmas lunch and the attentions of social services.’

  Matthew kissed her. ‘Clever girl. Talking of Christmas lunch, what time are we eating?’

  She laughed. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll put the turkey in for six. When we eat is dependent on the vagaries of this crazy profession, I suppose.’

  He slouched against the bedroom wall and watched her dress. ‘We’re having a turkey for the two of us?’

  She grinned. ‘Only a tiny one. I thought we ought to try and do it properly.’

  He laughed and hugged her. ‘I’ve got a present for you under the tree.’

  ‘What tree?’

  He grinned. ‘I thought we ought to try and do it properly,’ he mimicked.

  She followed him into the sitting room and there in the corner was a little artificial tree, with a string of fairy lights and a few tiny ornaments. There was a present under it.

  ‘Hang on,’ she said, and went and fetched his from the bedroom, putting it with the other one. ‘Do you suppose we could have a small sherry?’

  He smiled. ‘Probably a small one. Have you got any?’

  ‘Of course. Why did you think I mentioned it? Just to wind us up?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time. I can think of something else you often mention when I can’t do anything about it.’

  She smirked and rubbed up against him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Hussy. Get the sherry and come and open your present.’

  She did, her fingers all thumbs as she tried to peel off the sticky tape.

  ‘Just rip it before the phone rings again,’ he growled impatiently.

  ‘Well, you open yours—Oh, Matthew!’

  The box lay open on her lap, the beautifully set semiprecious stones winking in the lights of the tree. With trembling fingers she lifted the necklace from the box and stared at it open-mouthed.

  ‘Allow me,’ Matthew murmured, and, taking the necklace from her, he placed it carefully round her neck. Then he led her to the mirror.

  Each stone was simply but perfectly cut into a delicate oval, set within a fine gold band and linked together so that the ovals lay end to end in a softly glittering curve against her skin. There were moonstones, topazes and amethysts, pale emeralds and delicate zircons, the colours muted and exquisite.

  ‘Oh, Matthew, you shouldn’t...’ she began, her eyes filling, and he shushed her and smiled.

  ‘You look beautiful in it. I knew you would—you couldn’t fail.’

  She looked into the mirror again, her eyes misty. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life,’ she said, choked, and turned into his arms and hugged him. Then she sniffed inelegantly and pulled away. ‘Come on, you have to open yours. I’m afraid it’s going to seem awfully tame.’

  He pulled the wrapper off without any hesitation and lifted the jumper out with an exclamation of delight. ‘Oh, Linsey, it’s wonderful! So soft—where did you find it?’

  She grinned. ‘Salisbury last weekend, with Tricia. I met her there—she was staying with her parents. Put it on.’

  He tugged off the one he was wearing and pulled it carefully over his head.

  She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘It suits you.’

  ‘It feels wonderful,’ he said, straightening the bottom. ‘Like cashmere.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Linsey!’ His low reproach was belied by his eyes, warm with appreciation. ‘Thank you.’

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lingeringly.

  Predictably, the phone rang.

  ‘Again?’ he groaned, and answered it.

  It was like that for the rest of the day. By five forty-five they had had ten calls out and eight people to the surgery, and were wondering whether they would get their meal when the phone rang again.

  ‘Don’t they have anything better to do?’ Matthew grumbled, and scooped it up. ‘Jarvis,’ he said briskly. ‘Yes? What seems to be the problem? Right, OK. Where are you? Fine. I’ll be with you in ten minutes.’

  He put the phone down. ‘Visitors in a holiday cottage. Elderly father has chest pain—I expect he’s eaten too much Christmas dinner. Chance would be a fine thing. Go for dinner at six-thirty, OK?’ He kissed her lingeringly, then, with a muttered sigh he dragged himself away and ran down the stairs.

  Linsey watched him go with a soppy smile on her face. Her hand went up to her necklace again, feeling the warmth of the stones against her skin. Surely he must love her? she thought contentedly. Of course he did, just as she loved him. And tonight she’d tell him.

  The phone rang again.

  ‘Hello, Dr Wheeler speaking. Can I help you?’

  It was a man’s voice, hoarse and rasping. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘It’s Mr Parker—I’m a patient of Dr Wilson’s. I’ve got some kind of throat bug, a temperature, shivering. I wonder if I might pop round to the surgery? I’m only a few doors away.’

  She eyed the kitchen. She had sprouts to cook, the gravy to make, the table to lay...

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked him. ‘It would be a help. We’ve been very busy.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you.’

  The phone went dead, and Linsey ran downstairs and switched off the alarm. She’d take him through into her consulting room, she thought. She put the lights on all through the surgery and waited, and a moment later the security lights outside switched on and the intercom buzzer went.

  ‘Hello? Who is it, please?’

  ‘Mr Parker,’ the caller’s voice rasped.

  ‘Push the door and come in, Mr Parker,’ she said, and went to greet him. ‘Hello, there. Could you come into my consulting room and I’ll have a look at you?’

  She turned away and froze at the sudden, cold sound of sliding steel. A knife.

  ‘I don’t think so, Dr Wheeler. I think I’d like to go upstairs with you to your bedroom. I watch you getting ready for bed at night, you know. You’re not always very sensible about closing the curtains, especially not when your boyfriend creeps up on you.’

  Linsey swallowed, praying for inspiration. ‘We can’t go up there,’ she lied. ‘The alarm’s on.’

  ‘So unset it—and don’t try any fancy stuff. This knife’s sharp. I use it for filleting fish. If that alarm goes off, by the time help comes I’ll be long gone—and your precious Dr Jarvis won’t ever want to look at you again...’

  CHAPTER TEN

  LINSEY’S hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly press the numbers on the alarm keypad. Backwards, she told herself, then the alarm would sound only at the police station and Matthew’s cottage. Not that that would help—he wasn’t there—but at least the police would come—if she got it right.

  Nothing. No alarm. Thank God. The keypad display light went out, showing the system open. Please, God, let it work, she prayed.

  ‘Right,’ the harsh, ugly voice said behind her. ‘Let’s go. I want my Christmas present, Dr Wheeler. I’ve waited a long time, but you’ve made it more interesting. I thought he’d never leave you alone, but he did. I knew it was just a matter of patience.’

  . Linsey went slowly up the stairs, her heart pounding. Please, Matthew, come back. Please let the alarm work. Please hurry, police—‘Faster, Dr Wheeler. I’m getting impatient.’

  She felt the prick of the knife against her thigh, and ran up the last few steps, the madman right behind her.

  ‘Now, into the bedroom, nice and easy, without turning on the light—lovely. Shut the curtains. I’d hate anyone to see this. This is for me. Just me.’

  He flicked the light on, and then tossed her something white—a T-shirt? She caught it automatically and stared at it.

  ‘Put it on,’ he ordered. ‘Take everything off and put it on.’

  She looked at him in horror. ‘My nightshirt—how did you get this?’

  He la
ughed—an ugly sound. ‘I slipped in behind your not so vigilant lover one night, but before you came back to me a burglar disturbed me. I thought it prudent to make myself scarce, but I took it with me as a memento—something with your scent on to sleep with at night, and to remind me of you. Not that I’ve forgotten you, not for a minute. The last girl was just a distraction. Her hair was similar, you know, but not as beautiful as yours. Once I’d seen yours I realised the first girl was just a pale shadow too. It was you I really wanted all along. You should be flattered.’

  She swallowed. Flattered? she thought. Try terrified. Where were the police? How could it take them so long? She’d have to waste time, distract him or something.

  She took off her shoes, one by one, then fumbled with the hem of her jumper. Oh, God, she couldn’t bear his eyes on her but she had to do something so that he would think she was co-operating—

  ‘Come on!’ he snarled. ‘Now. I’ve waited long enough.’

  She closed her eyes, grasped the hem of her jumper again and prayed.

  Matthew couldn’t find the cottage. He was sure the man had said it was down this road, but there was no trace of anything answering its description.

  He drove to his cottage, meaning to phone Linsey and ask her to contact him if the man rang back, and as he got out of the car to open the gate he heard it.

  Not the shrill wail of his house alarm, but the insistent beep-beep-beep of the surgery-alarm system connected to his house.

  The blood drained from his face. A hoax, he thought—a hoax to get him away from the surgery, leaving Linsey alone.

  ‘Oh, God, no,’ he whispered, and, throwing the car into reverse, he shot backwards down the track, out into the lane and then forward towards Milhaven, tyres screaming, the automatic gearbox protesting at the harsh treatment.

  He put his headlights on full, fumbled the magnetic flashing green light out of the glove box and plugged it into the cigar lighter, then opened the window and stuck it on the roof, all with one hand. The car swayed and steadied, and he screamed down the road at twice the legal limit, praying that nothing got in his way.