Rivals in Practice

by Alison Roberts

  Andrew mumbled something about the camper van and his keys. Jennifer ignored him as she and the teenage girl struggled to manoeuvre the heavy man towards the house and up the steps.

  ‘Where shall we put him?’ Saskia queried. ‘On the couch? Or shall I move one of the children?’

  ‘I’d rather not disturb anyone,’ Jennifer decided, ‘but the couch is no good. I’m going to be up looking after Andrew in any case. He can go in my bed.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Andrew’s speech was much clearer this time. ‘Just what I always dreamed about, Jen.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Jennifer grinned at Saskia’s widened eyes. ‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ she advised. ‘He’s a sick man.’

  ‘Not that sick,’ Andrew declared. ‘It’s true, Jen. I’ve always—’ He broke off as he began to cough. The spasms were clearly painful and Andrew was drenched in sweat by the time they reached the bedroom. As the women let go, Andrew collapsed onto the double bed. His breathing was rapid and laboured.

  ‘I’ll get him undressed,’ Jennifer said. ‘Could you get my kit from the back of the car, please, Saskia? Bring that portable oxygen cylinder as well if you can manage it.’ She pulled Andrew’s shoes off as she spoke. ‘I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.’

  Andrew’s eyes opened again briefly. He even smiled at Jennifer. ‘The longer the better,’ he murmured. ‘Come to bed with me, Jen. I want you.’

  ‘You’ll regret saying that tomorrow,’ Jennifer assured him. ‘If you even remember it, that is.’

  His eyes closed and he turned his head with feverish distraction. She eyed the male figure that was now firmly ensconced on her own bed, the dark head indenting her pillows.

  ‘I might regret this as well by tomorrow,’ she muttered to herself. ‘And I’ll certainly remember it.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT HAD to be a dream but Andrew was in no hurry to wake up.

  The usual types of frustration were there. Limbs not responding to commands to move. Speech trapped inside his head or slurred incomprehensibly around a tongue that felt swollen and dry. An exhaustion that swept him repeatedly and inexorably towards periods of sweet oblivion. Yet Andrew knew who was providing the touch of those cool hands. He could focus instantly on the soft, gentle tones of her voice even if he couldn’t quite force his eyes open. He could feel intense gratitude at the comfort her hands brought or the relief of drops of fluid in his parched mouth even if he was unable to express it. And when he could open his eyes he recognised the woman that had haunted his dreams seemingly for ever.

  There were other people in his dream as well. Most of them were short and bouncy and were often being told to be quiet. A taller girl with a ring in her nose had weird hair like sheep’s wool that was an improbable shade of purple, and there was a fat baby who got pulled around on a bright red tray with wheels. The stuff of dreams, all right. There were even dogs that appeared with startling regularity, like the hairy black one that leapt into view whenever that peculiar weight on his legs was removed. Andrew didn’t mind any of this. He drifted, enjoying the dream that seemed to have the potential to descend into nightmare at any time but never quite tipped over the edge.

  Somewhere along the line his eyes began to focus more clearly. He could see the tiny gold flecks in the hazel depths of Jennifer’s eyes as she bent close, her stethoscope pressing firmly on his chest. He could appreciate the elegance of her hands, the long, tapered fingers holding a thermometer with a delicate touch. Fingers with neatly manicured nails but unadorned with any polish—or rings. Why wasn’t she wearing any rings?

  The short people gathered names that stuck. Michael and Jess and Sophie and Angus. Angus was inclined to make fire-engine noises. Vanessa was the fat baby in the red trolley and it was Michael that usually provided the propulsion. The girl with the weird hair was Saskia and all these people seemed to smile a lot. Like Jennifer did. Had he forgotten the way her lips curved so deliciously to reveal small, perfect teeth? Or the tiny dimples that formed at the corners of her mouth halfway into the wide smile? Perhaps he had forced it out of his memory because of the effect it had. Her smile had never been just for him. Except now, by some strange twist of fate, it was.

  ‘You’re looking a lot better.’ Jennifer was, indeed, smiling as she turned off the thermometer. ‘Your temperature’s down for the first time and your chest sounds a lot clearer. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Great.’ The word came out as a peculiar croak and Andrew blinked. How long had it been since he had spoken out loud?

  Jennifer was smiling again. ‘I’ll bet.’ A line appeared between her eyes as she frowned. ‘You’ve been pretty sick, Andrew.’

  ‘Have I? I can’t remember much of the last few hours, I must say.’ Andrew’s mouth felt as dry as a desert but his voice was returning. ‘I’ve been asleep.’

  ‘No, you’ve been delirious,’ Jennifer informed him. ‘And it hasn’t been a few hours. Try a few days.’

  ‘What?’ Andrew tried to concentrate. He stared suspiciously at Jennifer. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘It is,’ Jennifer contradicted. ‘If you hadn’t been so sick I would have shifted you into hospital. Instead, we filled you up with fluids and antibiotics and looked after you here. See?’

  Andrew looked above his head. The high brass knob on the bedstead had a bag of IV fluid taped to it. A line snaked down to reach his arm.

  ‘I can take this out now,’ Jennifer decided aloud. ‘We’ll start you on oral antibiotics and I suspect you could probably manage a cold drink by yourself. Or maybe a cup of tea.’ She deftly slid the cannula from his arm and pressed a swab to the puncture site.

  ‘I am thirsty,’ Andrew admitted. He yawned. ‘I still feel very tired. Are you sure I’m not dreaming all this?’

  ‘Quite sure. Do you not even remember us helping you to the bathroom?’

  ‘No.’ Andrew could feel a flush spreading up his neck. He tried to ignore the unpleasant prickle of embarrassment. ‘Where am I, precisely?’

  ‘In my house,’ Jennifer said. Then her lips twitched with amusement. ‘In my bed, if you want to be really precise.’

  ‘Oh, hell!’ The embarrassment intensified. ‘This is awful.’

  ‘That’s not what you said the first night you got sick.’ Jennifer grinned. ‘But never mind. It’s all water under the bridge now—like those trips to the bathroom.’ She moved away from the bed. ‘Be careful when you try standing up. You’re going to be a bit wobbly for a while yet. There’s a glass of water here but I’ve got time to get you a cup of tea before I go to work if you’d like one.’

  ‘I think I’d like to go back to sleep.’ Andrew wanted to get back to the dream. He hadn’t been in anyone’s home there, let alone their bed. And there had definitely been no trips to any bathrooms.

  ‘That’s a good idea. Saskia will be in to see you as soon as she gets the children off to school.’

  Andrew didn’t bother to ask who Saskia was. He had too much new information to assimilate already. It was too exhausting to try and worry about any of it. He closed his eyes and willed the dream to return. For a time, he thought it had. The girl with the purple hair was talking to him but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. The tuning in was involuntary and must have been due to the tone demanding a response.

  ‘So, how ’bout it, then?’

  ‘What?’ Andrew’s voice had rusted up again. He tried to clear his throat. ‘Sorry, but who are you?’

  ‘I’m Saskia.’ The nose with the ring through its side tilted up. ‘I’m Jen’s housekeeper.’ Bright green eyes were challenging Andrew to question her position. ‘And I look after all the kids.’

  Andrew licked his dry lips. Surely she couldn’t be real. ‘I don’t want to appear rude, Saskia,’ he said slowly, ‘but what happened to your hair?’

  The girl grinned and suddenly seemed even younger. How old was she anyway? Sixteen? Far too young to be a housekeeper and Andrew didn’t even want to think about Je
nnifer’s enormous brood of children.

  ‘Don’t they have dreadlocks where you come from?’

  ‘I guess they do.’ Andrew found himself returning the smile. The girl’s confidence was rather appealing. ‘Not usually purple, though.’

  ‘It’s aubergine, actually.’ Saskia’s remarkable long, woolly locks bounced as she turned her head swiftly. ‘Elvis, get down,’ she said sternly.

  Andrew almost laughed aloud. This place was better than a circus. Now the girl with the aubergine hair was about to introduce him to the ghost of Elvis Presley. He became aware that his legs were no longer pinned to the bed. A shaggy black shape materialised beside Saskia and sat wagging a plumed tail.

  ‘Sorry. He keeps sneaking in here. He seems to like you.’ Saskia’s keen glance appeared to be prepared to give Andrew the benefit of any doubt and go along with the dog’s opinion. ‘Can I get you something to eat or drink?’

  ‘Eat?’ Andrew’s dream had not included any notion of food.

  ‘My cooking’s not that bad,’ Saskia confided. ‘Especially if it comes out of a can. My best things are baked beans or soup.’

  ‘Soup sounds good.’ Andrew was feeling more awake now. He shifted his position slightly and became aware of the need to move further. ‘Um…Saskia?’

  ‘Yeah?’ The green eyes were scrutinising him again.

  ‘Where’s the bathroom?’

  ‘Right there.’ Saskia point at the door behind her. ‘It’s just as well we put you in Jen’s room, with the en suite. It hasn’t been easy, getting you to walk.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you want me to help you get to the loo?’

  ‘No,’ Andrew said quickly. ‘Thanks, but I think I can manage by myself now.’

  ‘Good.’ Saskia grinned again, acknowledging the visitor’s embarrassment. ‘There’s a shower in there if you feel up to it, and Jen put a razor by the basin.’ She was still smiling. ‘Designer stubble’s OK for movie stars but…’

  Andrew was feeling his chin. If he’d needed any proof of the length of time he’d been out of it, the heavy growth of beard was more than enough. ‘I must look dreadful,’ he murmured.

  ‘Yeah.’ Saskia nodded solemnly. ‘You’re still really pale and your face is thin and that stubble really needs to go west.’ She screwed her face into thoughtful lines. ‘Still, I reckon you’ll be quite good-looking when you’ve cleaned up a bit.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Andrew was really smiling now. It felt even rustier than his voice had. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Jennifer was astonished by the difference in Andrew’s appearance when she arrived home early that evening. Being clean-shaven helped a lot but the faint flush of normal colour in his skin was a huge relief. She’d had serious doubts over the last few days about the wisdom of nursing Andrew at home but, Brian had backed the decision.

  ‘In days gone by it was routine to nurse pneumonia patients at home. He’s a young, fit man. You’ve got him on good antibiotic cover that we can modify if necessary once we get the results from the blood tests. You’re keeping his fluids up and he’s going to get more peace and quiet here than he would in a hospital ward.’

  Jennifer hadn’t been sure about any of it and her doubts were compounded by guilt. Was Andrew as fit and healthy as he should be? He was a few years older than she was, having entered medical school as a postgraduate student with a science degree already. He looked older than the thirty-six years he would be now, and he was much thinner than she remembered him being. Quite frankly, he looked totally run-down. No wonder his bronchitis or whatever he’d had had developed into a much more serious illness. Especially after standing around in foul weather to help with a road accident.

  She had allowed him to remain in his soaked clothing for far too long, only giving him dry things to wear so that he could remain standing for hours longer. Not only standing but performing a major operation in what must have seemed like barbaric conditions to a specialist surgeon. On top of that, he’d been injured himself and had lost a significant amount of blood. Little wonder he was still so pale. And as for peace and quiet in her house, Jennifer was well aware that her domestic situation often resembled a circus. She and Saskia had had to work hard to keep the troops under firmer control around their invalid. The novelty of a visitor, especially a man, had been a tempting prospect.

  As if aware of her scrutiny, Andrew’s eyes opened. His gaze caught Jennifer’s and they stared at each other in silence for a short time. Jennifer felt suddenly shy under the focussed gaze. Andrew was once again in command of his mental processes but his helplessness over the last few days had altered her perspective so much that he seemed a stranger. For once, Andrew had not been trying to take anything over or to prove himself superior in any way. His dependence on her wasn’t something the Andrew she’d known would have contemplated. Maybe now he would assert himself enough for them to argue. At least that way Jennifer could find herself back on familiar ground. She could forget the peculiar satisfaction that caring for Andrew had generated and consider her debt of gratitude for his self-sacrifice in helping her paid in full. She could even dismiss the guilt that she had exacerbated his condition by bullying him into offering that help in the first place.

  ‘Hi.’ Jennifer spoke first. ‘It’s time you had your pills.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Three p.m.’ Jennifer was unscrewing the lid of the container she held. ‘I came home early. It’s very quiet at the hospital this afternoon and I got called out last night so I thought I’d spend some time with the children. I’ll probably get called out again later.’

  The mention of the hospital had focussed Andrew’s thoughts. ‘How’s the boy? Liam.’

  ‘He’s doing really well,’ Jennifer said with satisfaction. ‘He’s still under sedation in Intensive Care and being ventilated, but they’ve taken one chest drain out so far. He needed a massive blood transfusion but he didn’t need to be taken back to Theatre.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s been a few questions asked about the surgery we did and who you are. His consultants would like a written report.’

  ‘Of course. I should have written it at the time instead of just giving a verbal handover to the transfer team. It was unprofessional.’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly a routine situation. We were coping with a crisis and you were already sick.’ Jennifer chewed her lip. ‘I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard.’

  ‘I survived.’

  ‘Only just.’

  Andrew snorted. ‘Have you got some paper and a pen? I’ll do that report for you now.’

  ‘It can wait. I’ve filled them in as much as I could remember and the consultants are happy enough. Liam would have died if you hadn’t operated and they’re well aware of that. It’s just a formality for the records now. It will keep until you’re feeling a bit better.’

  ‘I’m feeling a lot better,’ Andrew claimed. He tried to push himself into a more upright position to prove his point but the movement was difficult. Part of the problem was the black dog lying on top of his legs again. ‘Hullo, Elvis.’

  ‘Get off the bed, Elvis,’ Jennifer ordered. The dog’s tail thumped the duvet. The rest of the shaggy body remained immobile.

  ‘He’s all right where he is,’ Andrew told her. ‘He seems to have adopted you.’ Jennifer held out two tablets and a glass of water. ‘Here. Swallow these.’

  Andrew complied. Jennifer’s eyebrows rose. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what you’re taking?’

  Andrew smiled. ‘You’ve had plenty of opportunity to poison me. It might seem somewhat ungrateful to start mistrusting you now.’ His gaze dropped, to be caught by the previously unnoticed entourage Jennifer had brought into the room with her. An enormous tabby cat was pushing itself between Jennifer’s ankles, ignoring a small, black kitten that was leaping energetically at the white tip of her tail. Andrew grinned. This place wasn’t a circus. More like a zoo. Jennifer also looked amused.

  Jennifer nodded. ‘The cat’s called Tigger for obvious reason
s and the kitten’s currently known as Trouble for reasons which will, no doubt, become apparent. Have you eaten anything today?’

  ‘I had some soup.’

  ‘Out of a can?’

  ‘I think so.’ Andrew remembered Saskia’s description of her cooking prowess and grinned. ‘It tasted great.’

  Jennifer nodded. ‘Sass is cooking dinner tonight.’ She paused and flicked Andrew a conspiratorial glance. ‘I might make you an omelette.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a bother.’ How ridiculous, Andrew thought. He’d obviously turned this household upside down for several days. It wasn’t an imposition he would have dreamed of putting on anyone. Particularly Jennifer Tremaine. He had never expected to even meet this woman again. Why had he even come here in the first place? Ah, yes. Andrew sighed heavily. The honeymoon.

  Jennifer misinterpreted the sigh. ‘It’s no bother,’ she assured him. ‘In fact, I’ll probably have an omelette myself.’

  Andrew wasn’t really listening. ‘Where’s the camper van?’ he demanded.

  ‘In the stable. It’s quite safe.’

  ‘It was due back in Christchurch on the fifteenth. What’s the date now?’

  ‘The seventeenth. I’ll ring the rental company for you and arrange to have it collected.’

  ‘No, I’ll drive it back tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Jennifer looked stern. ‘You won’t be going anywhere for a few days yet.’

  Andrew was silent. She was probably right. His session in the bathroom today had been a shock. He had struggled to manage the basic tasks of personal care. He’d felt as weak as a kitten and had become alarmingly out of breath with minimal effort. His silence was enough to let Jennifer know she had won the battle for the moment. It was broken by the sound of a door slamming and the approach of rapid footsteps.

  ‘Jen, Jen—guess what?’ Two excited small girls burst into the bedroom. The short people were back and this time Andrew could see they weren’t part of any dream. They were far too excited…and noisy.