A Doctor to Come Home to

by Gill Sanderson

‘I found this upstairs. It’s yours, I think. I must have picked it up when you were moving into your new house.’

  Amy peered inside the carrier—and thought her heart would stop. There was an old cigar box. She recognised it at once, it was hers. Fortunately her mother was putting on Elizabeth’s coat and she didn’t notice just how upset Amy was—and Amy managed to conceal it.

  It was to be an ordinary evening. For once she wasn’t calling round to see Adam, he was having other visitors. So she gave Elizabeth her tea, bathed her and read the necessary story, waiting until she was asleep. And all the time she was aware of the cigar box waiting for her. Finally, when she couldn’t think of any more tasks to occupy her, she sat and stretched out a trembling hand to open the box.

  After her husband had died she had thrown away everything of his that she could. She had even thrown away all the photographs they had had taken together. Then she had taken all his clothes, his books and his CDs and put them in four large boxes. Dr Wright had come and taken them away, given them to a charity. Amy had just wanted to get rid of them. But somehow this cigar box had survived. She knew she should burn it, unopened. But she couldn’t.

  She had hated the smell of cigars in the house and Paul had smoked them just to show her who was boss. But she had liked the box, it was handsome, made of cedar. So she had kept it, stored things in it. She opened the box.

  There were two sets of letters, one set tied in pink ribbon, one set tied in blue. Amy sat there and stared at them.

  When they had been engaged they had been apart, she working in a hospital in Sheffield, he working as a salesman, wandering round the country. She had written to him—sometimes every day. He hadn’t written back as often and his letters had been much shorter.

  For a while they had been so much in love.

  When they had married he had shown her how he had kept all her letters as she had kept his, and had suggested that she should keep the two sets together. And she had done so.

  Now, with a sick feeling, she untied the bundles and started to read. They were in order and she could follow lines of thought.

  Paul had written a good letter. But, then, he always had been silver-tongued, persuasive, a brilliant salesman. Which was why he’d managed to con her for so long. After they had married she had felt guilty for suspecting him when she had found obvious signs of other women on his clothes. He had sounded so hurt! But these letters dated from before then.

  How they had planned! Where to buy their house, what furniture to get first. Where they would go for their holidays. And the long, long letters planning her wedding.

  She shook herself. She had just read a letter from him professing his love for her. It sounded so marvellous, she remembered it making her so happy. And it had all been false. She dropped the letters back in the box.

  It was surprisingly easy to do. She found she just didn’t care. She took the box downstairs, emptied the letters onto the fire. Then she stirred the ashes until all the paper was consumed. The ashes of love? Nothing like it.

  She sat there for perhaps fifteen minutes and then smiled. She went upstairs, reached into her bedside cabinet for the photograph of her with Adam. When it was time she intended to have it enlarged, keep it proudly on her dressing-table.

  Burning the letters had been the last step she needed to take. The last ghost was laid, now she was free. She could tell Adam that she loved him, that her past was over. Now all there was in her life was a future.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Noel asked me, I accepted, we’re going to get married,’ Sylvia said. ‘Look, he’s given me a ring. It’s an emerald.’

  It was early one evening and Amy had called to pick up Elizabeth. Now she looked at her mother, not making sense of what she had just heard. Then she threw her arms around her mother. ‘Ma, I’m so happy for you. I think he’s a lovely man and I think he’ll make you very happy.’

  Then she stepped back, looked critically at her mother. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Quite a while. He’s been hinting for long enough, but never quite spoken out. Said he didn’t want to spoil what we had. And I was happy with things, too. I did intend to ask your advice, but after your ex-husband I thought you were against all marriages.’

  ‘You didn’t have to worry. I’d have said yes, encouraged you,’ Amy protested. ‘I’ve seen that smile on your face, that gleam in your eye—but I never thought you’d go this far.’ She thought. ‘But you’ve been unmarried for a long time now. Aren’t you bothered that your life is going to change?’

  Her mother shrugged. ‘I am a bit. But if you see something good—you go for it. I was very happy with your dad. Noel knows that, he was happy too. So why can’t we be happy with each other?’

  ‘No reason at all. I think it’s great. Can Elizabeth be a bridesmaid?’

  ‘Who else? And you can be a matron of honour.’

  Her mother paused and then said diffidently, ‘I’d like it if you got married too, Amy. To the right man, of course.’

  ‘I might like it myself,’ Amy said with a grin. ‘Let’s just see what happens, shall we?’ And beyond that she would not be drawn.

  Perhaps it was chance, perhaps in some way it was ordained. But Adam phoned her next morning.

  ‘I’ve decided I’m officially better,’ he said on the phone. ‘I’ve also decided that if I stay in any longer I’ll go mad. I’m going out for a walk. Would you like to meet me?’

  ‘You sound better,’ Amy said, ‘but it’s a wet miserable morning. Are you sure you ought to be out? I could come and pick you up.’

  ‘If I see you, the sun will be shining. How about by the river in half an hour?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she said. ‘Hey, Adam?’

  ‘Yes?’ Still a little doubt in his voice.

  ‘It’s good to hear you sounding so well.’ Then she rang off.

  It was a Saturday morning. Elizabeth was with Sylvia—they were off on a shopping expedition to Sheffield to buy a bridesmaid’s outfit. Amy had intended to call on Adam but this made it much easier.

  She saw him sitting on a bench in a shelter, the rain dripping from the roof. She sat by him and kissed him, the long kiss of a lover. His face was thinner but he was still gorgeous.

  He spoke first. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘I’m getting better every day. Soon I’ll be able to start light work. But I’ve been thinking about my life in general, nearly dying and then having to spend a long time in bed makes you think.’

  ‘I thought about Johanne and now I know where I was going wrong. I was being selfish.’ He grinned. ‘You know, last night I practically had to force her out of the house to see her boyfriend. She said she wanted to stay in and look after me. And she’s out with him right now.’

  ‘You’re lucky in her,’ said Amy. ‘I hope my daughter grows up like her.’

  He reached over to squeeze her hand, then let it go.

  ‘You saved my life,’ he said. ‘Don’t argue, we both know it’s true.’ He smiled. ‘I heard a Chinese saying that if you save someone’s life, you are responsible for them for the rest of that life. What a responsibility for you!’

  ‘I can take it,’ Amy said cheerfully. ‘I want to take it.’

  ‘We had a holiday romance. But I thought it might become something much more than that. I wondered if I should do as you suggested—just keep it as a memory. My experience of long-term relationships— with my wife—didn’t do much to encourage me. But I came here to see you. I told you when I came that I wanted to see what would happen. A lot has happened. Like I said, you helped me with Johanne, I learned more about work, there was the night of the dance which I will never forget. Then I told you I loved you. I thought that all would be well then—but then came the accident. And I’m glad you were there for me and I’m glad that we agreed to leave things till I was better.’

  He took both her hands, pulled her to him and kissed her. ‘I love you, Amy,’ he said. ‘I want us to have a future to
gether. I’ve thought about this nonstop over the past few days, you are what I want so desperately. So I’m making my declaration again. Can you do the same?’

  ‘Adam, of course I can! I love— Adam, what’s the matter?’ He was gazing over her shoulder, his expression horrified.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered. ‘This just can’t happen to us. Not now.’

  Amy turned to look. There, coming towards them, was Johanne. She was holding the hand of her boyfriend. ‘Hi, Dad,’ she shouted. ‘Glad we’ve found you. Jack’s parents have asked if I want to go round there for a meal tonight so if you’re up to being on your own, I thought—’

  ‘Great idea,’ said Amy. ‘Your dad’s coming round to have dinner with me. Aren’t you, Adam?’

  ‘Oh. Yes,’ said Adam.

  Amy took pains with the supper. For too long she had been living off sandwiches and hasty meals grabbed when it had been convenient. This time she wanted to be at ease, to be gracious.

  She bought salads, cold meats, wonderful bread from the small local baker and a fresh fruit salad. The Burgundy was a bottle specially recommended by her friend in the wine shop. The table was set almost formally, for two—Elizabeth was staying at her mother’s house tonight. No strong light, the room would be illuminated by candles. Then it was time to change.

  She bathed then consciously and deliberately put on the frilly underwear. A pink dress, formal but pretty. And then she lit the candles and sat down to wait.

  Adam looked well when he came in. Black trousers and leather jacket with a white shirt. No tie, of course. And he brought flowers and more wine.

  ‘The last time I was in this room I had been so happy,’ he said, ‘and as I left I told you that I loved you.’

  ‘So you did. And I think you might get an answer tonight.’ Then she frowned. ‘Adam, I’m sorry but this morning, when Johanne turned up out of the blue, I was going to—’

  ‘Hey! No one wants to hear a romantic declaration in front of his daughter. Or a hurried one.’

  He looked at the candles, the sparking glasses and cutlery. Then he looked at her in her pink dress. ‘This is much more inviting,’ he said. ‘Now I’m happy to be here.’

  ‘I’m happy too,’ she said. ‘More happy than you can think. And we’ve got time.’

  He looked at her thoughtfully but she was mischievous and avoided his eye. ‘Give me your coat and then we’ll eat,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’

  They had a pleasant, relaxed meal. They talked about Sylvia and Noel getting married, about what subjects Johanne should take at school, about whether the town should have a bypass. It was easy, casual conversation. They had all evening. They had each other.

  Eventually the meal ended and they found themselves sitting side by side on her couch. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet across his lap. When she reached for her glass she found that the wine had run out. She blinked. Had they drunk an entire bottle? ‘I’ve got another bottle here,’ she said. ‘I bought it for tonight.’

  He reached for the corkscrew, opened the bottle, tasted the wine. ‘This is fantastic,’ he said. ‘This wine is worth a toast.’

  ‘The wine was specially recommended,’ she told him. ‘I wanted something to...to mark the occasion.’

  ‘The occasion?’

  She leaned over, clinked her glass against his. ‘This is an occasion. Now I know, now I’m certain, that my old life is behind me. And I’ve something to say that I’ve been waiting to say for days. I love you, Adam Ross. You can make me happier than I’ve ever been before. And I’ll make you happy too.’

  He put down his glass, gathered her into his arms. ‘And how I love you, Amy Harrison. We’ll make each other happy.’ He kissed her. Then he smiled. Maybe we can start now…’

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  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2014

  ISBN: 9781783753680

  Copyright © Gill Sanderson 2014

  The right of Gill Sanderson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon,, CF45 4SN