It was two hours later that Dan phoned her.
Of course, she didn’t know that it was Dan until the answering-machine kicked in and she heard his voice projected into the room.
‘Sara, pick up the phone … it’s Dan,’ he announced—as if the sound of his voice wasn’t imprinted on every cell in her body.
‘Dan?’ she said, furious that she sounded so breathless when she’d only had to reach out her hand to pick up the phone. Pathetic!
‘Sara, I’m sorry to do this to you, but they really need me to stay on till the end of the shift. Arne’s had to go home with this wretched flu, too. He was nearly out on his feet and we could just about fry eggs on his head.’
Sara chuckled at the mental image painted of her colleague. Arne Kørsvold was an enormous gentle Swedish doctor who disguised the fact that he was rapidly losing his natural platinum-blond hair by shaving his whole head.
‘Anyway, if you’re OK with it, I’ll stay on and work the rest of the shift, then call in for an update on Zara. I promise I’ll take you back as soon as I can get away.’
What could she say? A and E’s needs were far more urgent than her own so she resigned herself to several more hours of sitting on the chair that faced Dan’s recliner and tried not to imagine what it would be like to spend her evenings sharing this lovely room with him.
Sara had no idea when the television programme finally lost her attention and she drifted off to sleep but she was completely out for the count by the time Dan let himself in.
She didn’t know how long he stood in the doorway to the living room, watching her sleep; didn’t see the way he frowned when he saw the shadows around her eyes that spoke of her exhaustion or the way his eyes softened as they traced the swelling curve of her belly.
The first thing she knew was a hazy realisation that Dan was there and that she was in his arms as he lifted her off the settee. Then he was laying her gently down again and she couldn’t help giving a little whimper of disappointment when he took his arms away again.
‘Shh,’ he whispered softly as he stroked a soothing hand over her head, and as she drifted off to sleep again, comforted by the fact that he was close to her, she imagined that she felt the butterfly brush of his lips on her forehead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I ’M GOING to go mad if I have to stay here any longer,’ Sara told the four walls of her borrowed bedroom.
She was spending yet another day in Dan’s spare room … Dan and Zara’s spare room, she corrected herself, although it was getting harder and harder to make herself remember that fact.
Because of the continuing staff shortages, Dan had returned to work full time. He was, however, being allowed time to go up at intervals to visit Zara.
Each evening, when he returned to the flat, Dan gave Sara a full report on the latest test results, but Zara’s body seemed to be struggling to rid itself of the toxic metabolite of the paracetamol she’d taken.
‘No doubt it’s because her liver had reduced glutathione stores as the result of her years of drastic dieting,’ he said soberly.
‘But the liver can regenerate itself,’ Sara reminded him. ‘Surely the paracetamol hasn’t done that much damage that it can’t be repaired.’ She shook her head and pushed her plate away, unable to eat any more even though it was her favourite tagliatelli carbonara.
‘Oh, Dan, I’m in such a muddle. Half of me desperately wants her problem to be the result of taking the drugs earlier in the afternoon, which would mean Zara couldn’t possibly be the person driving the car that hit me. But the other half wants just as desperately for it to have been her in the car, because that means the drugs hadn’t been in her system so long and she’s more likely to recover.’
There was a strange shadow in Dan’s eyes but he didn’t comment on her dilemma, choosing instead to tell her about one of the department regulars who’d turned up again after an absence of several months showing all the usual signs that she’d fallen off the wagon again.
‘Somebody hadn’t remembered to flag her name, so the new junior registrar went sailing into the cubicle to find dear old Alice lying there with all her worldly goods piled around her on the bed and snoring her head off.’
‘Oh, dear! He didn’t touch any of her bags, did he?’ Sara chuckled. ‘And she woke up and yelled the place down?’
‘She started shouting “Fire!” then realised it was a male doctor in the cubicle with her and changed it to “Rape!” with all-too-predictable results.’
‘Poor chap!’ Sara laughed even louder, remembering her own noisy introduction to Alice and her obsession with her bags. ‘I bet he got an even bigger shock when it took less than thirty seconds for the cubicle to fill with half the hospital’s security personnel.’
‘He was shaking and as white as a sheet and looked as if he couldn’t decide whether he was going into cardiac arrest or giving up his medical career on the spot.’
‘The trouble is, rules and regulations are so tight these days about what you can write on a patient’s notes, it’s difficult to leave a message on them saying, “Treat with extreme caution. Liable to explode,” or the hospital legal department would go into orbit. I take it you managed to smooth things over?’
‘Well, eventually,’ he said, and she was intrigued to see a wash of colour travel over his cheekbones.
‘What did she do this time?’
‘Oh, she was just her usual outrageous self,’ he said with a self-conscious shrug.
‘You may as well tell me,’ she pointed out, her imagination in full flight. ‘It will only take a single phone call to find someone else willing to spill the beans, and who knows how much bigger the story has grown in the meantime?’
‘Don’t remind me,’ he groaned. ‘I was counting on the fact that you’re not fit to work at the moment so that particular bit of gossip would pass you by.’
‘So?’ she prompted, ignoring the comment about her fitness to work in pursuit of the punchline of the story. Her upcoming return to work was a topic she didn’t intend to discuss with him. ‘Tell me, tell me. What did she do?’
‘It wasn’t so much what she did as what she said,’ he muttered, looking seriously uncomfortable. ‘In front of half the damn department and heaven knows how many patients and relatives she told me she loved my green eyes and invited me into the cubicle to give her a damn good … um … bit of passion.’
Sara burst out laughing. ‘Knowing Alice, I bet she didn’t use such a genteel phrase.’
Those gorgeous green eyes were sparkling now. ‘You’d win that bet,’ he conceded. ‘The trouble is, I’m never going to hear the end of it.’
‘Oh, you will,’ she reassured him. ‘As soon as the next juicy bit of gossip comes up, that little proposition will all be forgotten … by the rest of your colleagues, at least.’
And it was relaxed conversations like that one last night that were making life so difficult for her. It was becoming harder and harder to stop herself from doing or saying something that would reveal her secret … the fact that she was falling deeper and deeper in love with him the longer she shared his flat.
‘Well, enough is enough,’ she said firmly as she pushed herself up onto her one good foot and reached for a single crutch.
She’d been practising getting around over the last couple of days. There had been so many empty hours while she’d waited for Dan to return that she’d worked out for herself how she could manoeuvre without needing a pair of them because her shoulder was still too sore to take the weight, even with elbow crutches.
It wasn’t an elegant way of getting around, more of a stumbling lop-sided lurch, in fact, and definitely required the presence of a nearby wall as a last resort to stop herself losing her balance completely. The one good thing about it was that she’d almost perfected a way of getting around unaided, and that meant she could leave the danger zone of Dan’s spacious flat and take herself back to her own far humbler one.
‘It will probably take me a couple
of hours to go up all four flights of stairs,’ she muttered, feeling exhausted just thinking about it. She stuffed her belongings into a carrier bag, resolutely ignoring the fact that the packet of granny knickers hadn’t even been opened, tied the handles to her crutch, then phoned for a taxi. By the time it arrived, she was waiting in the entrance with just a short hop across the pavement left to do.
‘Hang on a minute, love,’ called the cabbie and heaved his considerable bulk out of the driving seat to give her a steadying hand to climb inside. ‘You’re in a right mess, aren’t you?’ he commented soothingly, his eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror once he was back in his seat. ‘Finally decided to get away from him before he does any worse? You’ve made the right decision, love. I’ve got no time for men who think it’s OK to knock women about. Need someone to give them a bit of their own medicine.’
‘Oh, good grief, no!’ Sara laughed. ‘It was a car that did this. I nearly got run over the other night.’
‘That’s right, dear. Get a good story ready to tell people so they won’t twig what’s really going on. Most of them will probably believe you, but me?’ he shook his head and drew in a breath through his teeth. ‘I’ve seen too much of the rough end of life and I can tell the difference, but don’t you worry—even if he gets the police out looking for you, I’ll never tell where I take you.’
He straightened up in his seat and put the engine into gear. ‘Right, now, where do you want to go? To one of the refuges?’
‘That’s very kind of you, and I’m so glad that there are people like you who will help battered women, but I’ve been staying with my sister and brother-in-law—’ she didn’t see the harm in stretching the truth a little, just to put the man’s mind at ease ‘—ever since I came out of hospital. If you could drop me off at my flat, that will be great.’ She gave him the address and was certain that he was quite disappointed he wasn’t going to be a brave knight coming to the aid of a maiden in distress.
Except when he drew up outside the multi-storey Victorian building, all his protective instincts seemed to resurrect themselves.
‘I hope you’re on the ground floor, love,’ he said as he lent her a hand again.
‘I wish!’ she joked, and looked right up towards the very top windows. ‘That’s me, all the way up there.’ And then, no matter how much she tried to reassure him that she could manage, he insisted on keeping her company all the way up all four flights, carrying her bag of belongings in case they unbalanced her and steadying her when her poor overworked leg began to tremble with overuse.
Sara was close to collapse when she finally got the key in the lock and swung the door wide, screwing her nose up at the shut-in smell that seemed to gather even in the space of a couple of days. Then she had a battle to make the man accept the proper fare for bringing her home, and when she tried to add a tip to thank him for spending the time to help her all the way up the stairs he drew himself up with an air of injured dignity.
‘I didn’t do that for money, love. I did that because you were someone who needed a helping hand. Now, you take this.’ He handed her a business card. ‘If you need to go anywhere, you ring that number and ask them to send George.’
‘Oh, that’s just perfect,’ she said with a little quiver. ‘Just like St George killing the dragon, you came to the aid of a lady in distress.’
He snorted and went a bit pink. ‘I don’t reckon my missus thinks I’m any sort of saint, but I know what you mean. Now, you take care of yourself.’
He was just about to shut her front door behind him when she remembered what she’d planned to do that evening.
‘Oh, George,’ she called. ‘You don’t go off work before seven, do you? Only I’ll be needing a taxi to get to the hospital for visiting hours.’
‘I told you, love, you need me, I’ll be here,’ he said with a broad grin. ‘Will a quarter to seven be early enough for you?’
‘Perfect. I’ll see you then.’
It was just after seven o’clock when the lift chimed to announce its arrival on Zara’s floor.
This time, thank goodness, she wasn’t trying to get about with her single crutch because as soon as she’d arrived in A and E, courtesy of George, she’d been whisked off by a bevy of colleagues and given the loan of a wheelchair.
‘At least my immediate welcome in the department seemed to put his mind at rest,’ she mused as she wheeled her awkward one-handed way towards Zara’s room, then an alternative suddenly struck her. ‘Or perhaps he took it as proof that they know me well because I’m always in here for treatment.’
She was still smiling at that thought when she tapped on Zara’s door and began to push it open.
‘There she is!’ Zara announced, her face twisting into an unattractive scowl. ‘And look at that smirk on her face. She just couldn’t wait to get her foot in the door, could she? All this time she’s resented the fact that Danny chose me and she waited until I’m too ill to do anything about it to move in with him and—’
‘Zara!’ Dan’s voice cracked over her increasingly hysterical rant like a whip. ‘That’s enough! You’re talking nonsense.’
‘It’s not nonsense!’ she argued fiercely. ‘How could you have let her move into my home after all the trouble she’s caused? Didn’t you read my note? It’s all her fault. Everything is Sara’s fault.’
‘Ah, yes. The note,’ Dan said, and Sara seemed to be the only one who noticed a strange edge to his voice.
‘You mentioned it before,’ he continued. ‘Remind me, when did you write it and where did you put it?’
‘I wrote it the afternoon I took the tablets, of course, and I put it on my bedside cabinet, where you’d see it when you came in … And I’m so sorry for doing that to you, but if you’d read the letter you would know how desperate I was … that I just couldn’t cope any more with Sara wanting to keep the baby and …’
‘Shh, sweetheart,’ Audrey soothed, reaching for one of her daughter’s flailing arms. ‘It can’t be good for you to get in such a state. Perhaps it would be better …’ She turned with a scowl on her face to send a meaningful glance between Sara and the door.
Sara hadn’t known whether to leave so that her sister didn’t upset herself any more, but Dan had already drawn the wheelchair fully into the room and shut the door for some semblance of privacy so she was completely trapped when he drew a slightly crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.
‘I take it that this is the letter you’re talking about?’ he said, and Sara felt sick when she saw the malice in Zara’s glance across at her.
‘You found it!’ she exclaimed. ‘So now you know exactly—’
‘“My darling Danny,”’ he read flatly, interrupting her without an apparent qualm. ‘“I can’t bear it any more. You know how hard we tried to have a baby and what a wrench it was for me to have to have my sister being a surrogate for us. I know that she’s always wanted you for herself and I’m just so afraid that she’s going to steal our precious baby and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just can’t bear it any more, Your loving Zara.”’
Sara felt the blood drain from her face then flood back in a scalding blush when he read the note for all to hear. Didn’t he realise how humiliating it was for her to have her unrequited love spoken about like that? Didn’t he realise that, even if she hadn’t loved him, she would still have loved the children she was carrying because they were an intrinsic part of her?
And the letter was a complete lie because even though she desperately wished that she was carrying Dan’s babies for the two of them, there was no way that she would have broken her promise to him to give him the family he wanted. He was going to be a wonderful father and Audrey would spoil her grandchildren at every opportunity and provide the feminine touch that Zara would probably be too busy for.
She really didn’t need all this extra emotional stress, to say nothing of the embarrassment of having her private feelings paraded for all, not when all the pregnancy books advised c
alm and serenity for the sake of the baby. After all, she was still recovering from her injuries and had, admittedly voluntarily, just gone through the exertions of moving out of his flat and back into her own.
And going from mind-blowing topics to the merely petty, there was the fact that she wasn’t certain her smart-enough-for-work trousers would ever recover from her decision to come all the way down four flights of stairs on her bottom.
‘Look at her face!’ Zara demanded shrilly, pointing straight at Sara. ‘At least she has the honesty to look guilty.’
With everyone’s eyes directed at her, Sara had felt the heat of embarrassment flooding into her face. She was unused to being the centre of attention at any time, least of all when she was in the same room as her twin.
She hated what Zara was doing to her but she had known for far too many years that there was no point protesting her innocence. Zara’s position as everybody’s favourite was unassailable. The thing that hurt worst was the fact that Dan was privy to all Zara’s spiteful lies. At least in the past it had been kept within the family.
‘You ask her, Danny,’ her sister demanded, with every evidence of being on the verge of tears. ‘You ask her if she hasn’t been thinking about keeping the kid for herself.’
Of course she’d been thinking about it, Sara admitted silently as she reached for the rim of the wheel to turn herself around. She was carrying the babies of the man she loved so it was obvious that she would long for the chance to bring them up with him, and there was no way she was staying in this room to allow her sister to make something shameful about a normal human response.
‘Sara, stay,’ Dan said in a low voice, his lean fingers resting on her wrist to dissuade her from opening the door. ‘Please?’
There was something in those amazing green eyes that told her she could trust him, that he wasn’t asking her to stay to have more humiliation heaped on her head. And even though she had no idea where this dreadful conversation was going, she knew that she could trust him, implicitly.
She missed the warmth of his touch when he took his hand away, but then he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a plastic bag.
Twins for a Christmas Bride Page 10
