Hired: GP and Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal

by Judy Campbell / Anne Fraser

  ‘I’d love to finish this off properly, my sweet, but perhaps, as you said, this room isn’t quite the right place during surgery hours…’

  Terry laughed. ‘Saved by the bell! I had visions of Isobel coming in and finding us—and I don’t think she’s too keen on you having female followers!’

  Atholl grinned. ‘She regards me as a surrogate son and after my experience with Zara she’s like a Rottweiler where my welfare is concerned! However, back to work, I’m afraid. We’ve got a potential worry at the Caledonian Hotel.’

  Terry frowned. ‘Isn’t that the place that belongs to the Rathbones? Janet was my first patient this morning.’

  ‘Poor woman—she’ll be very worried at the moment. They had a small wedding party there at lunchtime and one or two of the guests collapsed shortly after eating the lunch.’

  ‘Oh, no! Food poisoning, I suppose?’

  ‘It’s all rather mysterious—not the usual symptoms, from what I can gather. The victims have been taken to hospital but the public health people will be some time getting across from the mainland, so I’m afraid it’s up to you and I to go and take samples of everything in the kitchen to get them analysed as quickly as possible. I’ve telephoned through to say that the kitchen must be sealed off until we get there.’

  Terry grabbed her medical bag, and put the e-mails and post to one side of the computer—she would look at them later.

  ‘What are the symptoms?’ asked Terry as they drove over to the hotel.

  ‘Pretty grim—numbness, a weak pulse, thirst, and two of the victims have had convulsions and paralysis of the limbs,’ said Atholl. ‘The last thing a place like Scuola needed with the start of the vital tourist season is an outbreak of illness in a hotel—the sooner we can trace its cause, the better.’

  The Caledonian Hotel looked out over the Scuola Sound and had pretty gardens surrounding it. As they drove up, Terry could see a young couple playing tennis on a court at the side of the hotel and at the front was a beautifully mown lawn with croquet hoops on it. Everything looked immaculate and cared for.

  ‘It’s very popular with holidaymakers and the locals,’ explained Atholl as they got out of the car. ‘Whatever one can say about Cyril as a patient, he and Janet work like the devil—it must be quite stressful. They have an excellent chef and the food’s terrific. I just hope to goodness they haven’t got salmonella or the like on their hands—it could ruin their reputation.’

  Janet met them at the door, her face showing the strain of the past few hours. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ she said. ‘I’m so worried, we seem to have an outbreak of some kind on our hands. I can’t believe it’s food poisoning—we’re absolutely meticulous about everything that’s produced here.’

  Atholl patted her shoulder kindly. ‘I know how careful you are, Janet. Try not to worry. We’ll go straight to the kitchen and start taking samples straight away—it could be something that’s been brought in from outside. Nobody’s disturbed anything, have they?’

  Janet trotted along beside them, her words tumbling over each other. ‘It was awful. They simply started shaking and collapsed about half an hour after eating. At first we thought one of them was having a heart attack as he suffers from angina, but it was soon obvious that it was affecting quite a few of them. Oh, what can it be?’

  ‘What had they been eating?’ asked Terry.

  Janet looked a little tearful. ‘The wedding party had roast beef, and Cyril and I had a roast beef sandwich for an early lunch—but we haven’t been affected.’

  ‘We’ll get the samples for analysis now, and then go over to the lab at the hospital to get them done as soon as possible and look at the victims while we’re there.’

  It took a good hour to go through everything in the kitchen, collect all the samples and then rush them to the hospital laboratory.

  ‘We’ll try and get them done today,’ said the technician. ‘Everyone’s going to work flat out.’

  ‘Then let’s sit down and make a definitive list of absolutely everything these people ate this lunchtime—to the smallest thing,’ suggested Atholl, pulling a pen from his pocket. ‘One good thing—no one seems in immediate danger although it would be very helpful if we knew the cause.’

  It seemed to be a fairly random attack—a husband would be affected, but not the wife, a parent, but not a child. They interviewed everyone they were able to at the hospital, and Terry observed in a puzzled way when they were back in the hotel office with the Rathbones, ‘Everyone seems to have had the same—roast beef.’ She looked at the list they’d made, tracing the ticks against each name. ‘There’s only one thing I can see that differs from one group to the other, and that’s the fact that some had the horseradish sauce and others didn’t.’

  Atholl stared at her for a moment, then said slowly, ‘You know, you may be on to something there. It’s a long shot, but at the back of my mind a bell’s ringing. I think it’s time we interviewed the chef!’

  ‘What do you think it is?’ asked Terry curiously.

  ‘I can’t be sure—it seems almost too far fetched, but I have come across it once before,’ replied Atholl cryptically, striding through to the kitchens with Terry and the Rathbones behind him.

  Bernie, the chef, was defensive when questioned. ‘Everything I serve is home prepared—the meats from local suppliers, the vegetables are from the kitchen garden—’

  ‘Ah, yes, the vegetables,’ interrupted Atholl. ‘Where do you get your horseradish sauce from?’

  ‘As I told you,’ said Bernie proudly, ‘it’s all home made. The horseradish grows in the garden.’

  ‘Then let’s go into the kitchen garden and see the exact spot you got the roots from,’ said Atholl. He paused and asked Cyril and Janet, ‘Tell me, when you had your roast beef sandwiches, did you have horseradish sauce with them?’

  Cyril and Janet Rathbone looked at each other in puzzlement. ‘No, we don’t like spicy hot stuff,’ said Cyril. ‘Don’t tell me it’s something to do with that?’

  Atholl didn’t reply but went with Bernie into the walled garden where the vegetables were grown. At the far end there had been some excavation work to demolish a shed and the ground was fairly churned up.

  ‘Show me the roots you used,’ said Atholl.

  Bernie bent down and pulled up the familiar horseradish roots from the disturbed soil and handed them to Atholl, who scratched their surface and sniffed them, then smiled rather grimly.

  ‘I think we’ve found the culprit,’ he said looking up at them. ‘These tubers look like horseradish roots but, in fact, I’d bet my life they’re aconite or monksbane, which is highly toxic. It’s very easy to confuse the two roots, especially when the earth is churned about and the familiar leaves have been trampled on.’

  There were quick indrawn breaths of amazement from the others.

  ‘What made you think of it?’ asked Terry.

  ‘When I was working in A and E we had a similar case. It’s a few years back now, but when I heard that word “horseradish” it brought it back to me. A farmer’s wife supplemented her income by making sauces and chutneys and had made the same mistake.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ said Bernie in a broken voice. He turned ashen and sat down suddenly on a bench. ‘I’d no idea…I…I can’t believe I nearly killed all those people…’

  ‘It wasn’t you who picked the roots,’ cut in Janet suddenly. ‘It was me. I just handed them to you.’ She turned to Terry, her face a white mask of horror. ‘Perhaps it was because of my bad vision. I didn’t notice the difference in the leaves…’

  Atholl shook his head. ‘As you saw, the ground had been so churned up, there were no leaves, and the tubers of both plants are very similar.’

  The Rathbones and Bernie looked completely shocked. Terry said briskly, ‘Look, no one’s in danger. I’ve just rung A and E and I think we can breathe a sigh of relief. If it’s confirmed that Atholl’s right, they’ll know what they’re dealing with. I imagine that people onl
y had a tiny bit of the sauce because it would have tasted rather peculiar.’

  ‘I…I’d no idea that we had monksbane,’ said Janet miserably. ‘I hope it won’t ruin our reputation…we’ve worked so hard to get this place on its feet. I couldn’t bear it if the whole thing went down again.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Atholl gently. ‘It’s a harsh lesson but now you know all in the garden isn’t necessarily roses, I’m sure you’ll never make that mistake again. Look,’ he added cheerfully, ‘I’m not in the least worried—in fact, I’d like to book Dr Younger and I in for a meal tomorrow night!’

  Janet looked at him in grateful surprise. ‘Of course—and it’ll be on the house!’

  Atholl shook his head firmly. ‘Oh, no, we’ll pay our way. What do you say, Terry?’

  ‘Sounds a great idea to me.’ Terry grinned. ‘And I can’t wait to taste your roast beef!’

  The next day Terry came into the surgery early to deal with the paperwork she’d been unable to look at the day before because of the incident at the Caledonian Hotel. There was a message from Atholl to say that the laboratory had confirmed that aconite had been found in the horseradish sauce sample and that the patients were all doing well—and that he was looking forward to their dinner together that evening!

  Terry sat down in front of the usual pile of circulars from drug companies, medical magazines and letters that came in on a daily basis, sorting them out with a light heart. She mused rather distractedly on what she would wear that evening. Her wardrobe was decidedly meagre, and she decided to nip out during the lunch-hour on the off chance that the small dress shop in Scuola had anything remotely glamorous she could buy.

  One of the letters was a private one, with a handwritten envelope. Odd, that—she never received personal mail nowadays. After all, no one knew where she lived, except her father’s solicitor, and that would surely be typewritten.

  She turned the envelope over in her hand. There was just the barest address there. ‘Dr T. Younger, GP on Scuola.’ There was something familiar about the handwriting.

  Curiously she slit open the envelope and pulled out a note together with a newspaper clipping—it was the article and photograph about her and Atholl rescuing the baby from the quayside the first day she’d arrived in Scuola. It had obviously been taken up by a national newspaper.

  She read the note slowly, hardly comprehending it at first, then reread it with mounting horror. Her mouth suddenly went very dry and her heart started to thump uncomfortably, the light-hearted happiness she’d felt a moment ago draining away from her. She put the note down and stared at it, huddled back against her chair.

  ‘My God,’ she whispered. ‘What on earth can I do?’

  She got up and walked unsteadily over to the window, drawing aside the blind and looking out at the view of the hills and the sea beyond. She was so happy here—happier than she could ever have imagined, coming to a place that was new to her and leaving all she’d known behind. Life was interesting, the people were friendly, and, of course, above all there was Atholl, a man that she knew now that she’d fallen for, hook, line and sinker, in the few weeks she’d been here.

  Was all that going to be put in jeopardy because her past had suddenly and horribly caught up with her?

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE let the blind go with a snap and went back to the desk, sitting down with her head in her hands, trying to remain calm, to think about what she ought to do. She took up the piece of paper again and reread it, as if by so doing it would be different this time.

  Hi, darling,

  Bet you didn’t think that I’d be in touch with you! No wonder this photo caught my eye immediately—you can change your name but not your looks, even if your hair is shorter! It’s amazing how news travels fast, even when it’s from a little place like Scuola, isn’t it? Now I know where you live, I’ve come up to the area to have a little chat with you, but mostly to warn you I need some ready cash—a few thousand would help. I’d like you to get this a.s.a.p. I’ll give you four days to organise cash in used notes. Better if you keep your mouth shut about this, sweetheart. If you don’t, your nice Dr Brodie might get hurt (accidentally of course).

  Be seeing you, Max.

  Terry shuddered. That damn newspaper! Even though she thought she’d disguised her looks well, had convinced herself that nobody would guess where she was, and had begun to feel relaxed in her life here, Max had found her! The man she’d once thought she’d loved so much had found out where she was and was blackmailing her.

  She put her head in her hands, the whole dismal scenario of what had happened to her father reeling through her mind. She’d thought she was so safe up here in Scuola—but it seemed there was to be no hiding place from the implied threats in that horrible little note. And Atholl was in as much danger as she was—she was under no illusion about what Max was capable of. Her father had paid a high price for her involvement with Max because Max didn’t care who he hurt.

  What the hell could she do? She leaped up from her chair and started pacing about the room, trying to control her panic.

  One thing was certain—she couldn’t put Atholl at risk by staying at his cottage any longer. In fact, it would be better altogether if they ended their relationship, she thought miserably. He mustn’t in any way be sucked into the vile and corrupt world that Max represented. She could imagine Max demanding money from Atholl, and threatening to harm her if Atholl didn’t agree.

  She would have to inform the police, although it was hard to see how letting them know about this grubby little note would do any good. There weren’t many policemen on the island and they could hardly give her twenty-fourhour protection. She would have to move on.

  She took the note and put it in her handbag, snapping it shut viciously. She had been naive to think that she wouldn’t be discovered—letting herself be photographed for the paper had been a careless mistake. With cold logic she realised that realistically her only option was to leave Scuola and get as far away from Atholl as she could. She could face Max herself but she was damned if Atholl was going to be mixed up in this sordid scenario.

  A lump of sadness lodged somewhere in her throat. How could she leave her lovely life here? But Max was her problem, not Atholl’s, and she must make her own decisions. It had been too good to be true anyway, she mused sadly. Happiness such as she had started to experience lately could never last—the past had been bound to catch up with her. Somehow she had to be strong and tell Atholl that it was over between them and that she was leaving Scuola.

  Atholl was already home when she returned to the cottage.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart.’ He smiled, his whole face lighting up as his eyes wandered over her. ‘Let’s get going—I’m starving! Go and put on your glad rags. Oh, by the way, we’re needed in Hersa tomorrow morning—that’s the little island I pointed out to you. There’s been a case of meningitis affecting a child who was visiting her grandparents on the mainland, and all the children who may have come into contact with her need to be given antibiotics pronto. It needs two of us again, so I’d be much obliged if you’d come with me. Sue’s already involved with doing MMR vaccinations here at the baby clinic.’

  He waited expectantly for her reply. What could she say? It was an emergency after all.

  ‘Yes…yes, of course I’ll come,’ she said distractedly.

  She closed her eyes briefly, trying to compose herself, psych herself up to tell him that their affair was over and an intimate and romantic dinner with him was not on that evening.

  ‘Atholl, I, er…’ She paused for a second, gathering her courage, then swallowed hard and said in a rapid voice, ‘Atholl, I can’t go out with you tonight.’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Why not?’

  She sat down at the little kitchen table and gripped her hands together. ‘Because…because I’ve something I’ve got to tell you as soon as possible. It’s very hard to say this. It…it’s about us…’

  Atholl looked at her
with twinkling eyes. ‘Oh, dear, you sound very serious, sweetheart. What is it about us?’

  God, this was difficult! Terry twisted her hands together wretchedly. How could she put it to him that although they’d made wonderful love only the evening before, now she wanted to finish their liaison, leave her job?

  ‘The thing is…’ she started haltingly. ‘The thing is, I think we’ve been too hasty, Atholl. I…I’ve been thinking it over and I don’t feel I can get involved in a relationship at the moment. It’s too soon after Max…I’ve been too impetuous.’

  Atholl sat down on the chair opposite her, his expression changing slowly from humour to incredulity. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘I…I mean I’ve just had one intense relationship. I can’t leap into another one so quickly.’

  ‘You mean you think you’re on the rebound?’ He laughed and said in amusement, ‘Are you trying to say it’s over between us? Good God, we’ve only just started.’

  ‘I know, I know! That’s why I think it’s best to stop things before we get too…committed.’

  Those amazing eyes bored into hers and she looked away hastily. ‘This seems to have come on very quickly. I didn’t notice you holding back yesterday when I kissed you in the surgery,’ he commented quietly.

  ‘I had time to think about it when I was clearing things out in my room for Sue. It suddenly came over me,’ Terry replied helplessly.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he said gently. He reached across the desk and took her hand. ‘We don’t have to break up. We can just take things a little more slowly if you feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. As a matter of fact, I also feel as if a steamroller’s gone over me—it’s been an incredible experience!’ He grinned at her. ‘Perhaps you feel that, like fine wine, we should savour what we feel, not gulp it down too greedily!’

  Terry drew her hand from his and said dully. ‘No…halfmeasures are no good, Atholl.’